Rising Summer (18 page)

I tottered. The bike nearly fell over. The daft dog growled at it. ‘You’ve got to be joking, sir. I do happen to know a girl, but only because she’s the daughter of friends of mine.’

Major Moffat looked me in the eye. A brutally vigorous figure, he was admired by Suffolk females. He made me feel my number was up. ‘Let me tell you, Gunner Hardy,’ he said, ‘if you’re caught going to work on a schoolgirl, it’ll count as rape. Have you got that loud and clear?’

‘Yes, sir, I’ve got it and a headache as well. Who wouldn’t have? I’m not the type, sir, and you can take my word for it. You’ve been misinformed about my present objective.’

‘That’s man to man, is it?’ he said.

‘If you like, sir.’

‘I’m watching you,’ he said. ‘Well, don’t stand about, get going.’

I got going, after saluting him again. I rode out through the gates, his lunatic hound bounding and barking beside me. I stopped when I’d rounded the first bend and detached the pump. The Dalmatian sniffed it, recognized it, turned tail and went off howling.

I cycled towards the village and the station. Missus must have seen me coming a mile off, or she must have heard I was on my way because she was waiting for me at her gate. I had to stop, after all, I was still getting eggs and some of my mates like Frisby, relied on the occasional fried one. And perhaps it wasn’t her fault that she’d inherited unmentionable ideas from her Aunt Flossie. She gave me a creamy smile, her beige jumper hovering over her gate.

‘Watcher, Missus. Can’t stop, I’m afraid. Got the Major checking up on me.’

Missus laughed. It was like the rich sound of churning butter. ‘Tim, pet, what you been gettin’ up to with Lottie Ford?’

‘Just screwing her dresser to the wall, Missus, you must have heard.’

‘Heard a bit more than that, lovey. I don’t hardly remember any soldier bein’ as ’elpful to ladies as
you,
what with what you done for me, then your Elsingham widow woman and now my friend Lottie across the street, who don’t have her husband around to oblige her. Ain’t Lottie a nice woman? But a bit starved like.’

‘Is that a fact? What a crying shame. Look, send Jim across. When it’s dark. He could be there and back in two shakes of his pipe and I don’t suppose Lottie will mind if he doesn’t take his hat off.’

Tim, what a vulgar thing to say, I couldn’t ask Jim to do that.’ Her jumper quivered in some kind of protest. ‘I couldn’t lift my head up in church if I let Jim commit adultery with a neighbour. Besides, Nathaniel wouldn’t like it. He wouldn’t mind you, though, you both bein’ soldiers.’

‘He’s a sailor.’

‘Same thing, love.’ Missus smiled fondly.

‘Bloody earthquakes, Missus, you—’

‘Don’t swear, ducky. Jim don’t like swearing and carrying-on.’

‘Well, hard luck on the old goat, he’ll have to put up with it. Believe me, Missus, what goes on in the wilds of Suffolk is all too much for me and the sooner I get posted to Margate the better.’

‘Won’t be Margate, Tim. More like where Hitler’s lot is.’ Missus acquired a comforting look. The parlour curtain moved and I glimpsed Minnie. She looked fed-up. ‘Don’t you worry now, Tim, I’ve been readin’ the tea cups, and they don’t show anything about Hitler’s lot gettin’ the better of you, just a surprise marriage.’

‘A what?’

‘You’re goin’ to have a surprise marriage,’ said Missus.

‘Well, any marriage is a surprise when it happens in a tea cup.’

‘You’re a laugh, you are, lovey,’ said Missus. ‘Min says she likes that, she says much better to die laughin’ than cryin’. Pity she’s not nearer your age, fancyin’ you the way she does. Mind, now she’s sixteen, she wouldn’t mind waitin’ a bit for you to start courtin’ her, except Jim says he’s not goin’ to have none of that till she’s eighteen. Still, you did send her a nice birthday card and a little brooch—’

‘What’s she doing home from school?’

‘Feelin’ a bit poorly again, poor lamb. Well, think about when you want to come and see me one evening.’

‘I’ve got nothing left to think with, Missus, I’m hollow all over.’

Missus laughed. I had a feeling that the three of them, mother, father and daughter, were all having me on.

Aunt May wrote to say she was quite pleased with my last letter as it told her a lot more about my American lady friend than any of the others. The other letters hadn’t made a lot of sense, she said. She thought it was very interesting that I’d got to know an American girl so well. The war is full of surprises, she said. She also said she couldn’t think what I meant about Kit being a bit too efficient, she didn’t know how anyone could be too efficient. I didn’t want to end up with a girl who didn’t know how to boil an egg properly, did I? That reminded her to say she was getting used to dried egg, it came out
quite
good scrambled and was also useful for making cakes.

She said she was already looking forward to my next leave, when I’d be able to talk to her about Kit. She’d never met any girl called Kit before, only Kitty. Still, it sounded quite nice, she said. Yes, she’d really enjoyed the rabbits and had invited another friend in to enjoy the last one with her, as she couldn’t eat a whole one all by herself. She wanted to know if I was doing any soldiering, because I seemed to spend such a lot of time doing work for widow Mary Coker, which didn’t sound much like soldiering to her.

Poor Edie Hawkins had had her baby, a little girl, and her mother had said it was a lovely mite. It didn’t look a bit like it had been born out of wedlock and perhaps when Edie’s husband saw it he might not want to give Edie a good hiding. Aunt May wondered just how he would behave to a wife who had fallen from grace. By the way, she wrote, your friend’s uncle, Mr Clayton, happened to come round to see me and offered to re-paper the kitchen one weekend, he’s got some rolls of nice pre-war wallpaper. She couldn’t say no to such a kind generous offer.

I had another word with Gunner Simpson. ‘Is your uncle getting ideas about my Aunt May?’ I asked.

‘Is he? How do I know?’ said Simpson.

‘Well, find out. I’m particular about whoever might get his feet under her kitchen table.’

‘Listen,’ said Simpson, ‘you can make that your business, if you like, I ain’t makin’ it mine.’

‘Have a gasper,’ I said. We both had one, we both lit
up.
‘The point is, Simmo, I don’t want my Aunt May being taken in by some old goat who’s lookin’ for tree board and lodging.’

‘’Ere, watch it, you’re talkin’ about me mother’s brother, who I can guarantee is a gent.’

‘Well, that’s good, Simmo, I’ll take your word for it.’

I saw a fair amount of Kit. Not when she was out of bounds, of course, as Sergeant-Major Baldwin was always on the prowl up there on the first floor. Sometimes when I had an evening pass, Kit came to the pub with me and sometimes she didn’t. Sometimes I think she was out with Major Moffat on what he would probably say was official Allied business. Cassidy, the friendliest girl, offered to stand in. I said that was really nice of her, but if Top Sergeant Dawson found out I’d never live to see next day’s breakfast. Cassidy said she’d come to my funeral, she’d be a heel if she didn’t.

Frisby continued to be Cecily’s guide, doctor, mother, father and grandma. She liked it. It did wonders for her. She shone. So did her fully-fashioned Waac stockings. Her skirt, previously very long in length, had been shortened. I assumed it meant she wanted Frisby to see she had legs. I asked him if it did. Frisby said she hadn’t said so to him. He hadn’t even noticed, he said. I said that had to be a stand-up lie.

‘All right, I’ll be frank,’ he said, ‘I don’t talk to Cecily about things like her legs. I don’t want her suffering a setback. She’s still sensitive, y’know.’

‘But she doesn’t twitch any more, does she?’ I said.
‘And
you’re dating her and making her happy, aren’t you?’

‘I’m doing my best,’ he said.

‘You going to pop the question or not?’

‘I’m just taking my time. You can’t rush a girl like Cecily.’

‘Well, watch out, mate, someone else might. In case you haven’t noticed on account of being her doctor, Cecily’s turned into a Lulu.’

‘Think so?’ Frisby looked proud of his accomplishment. ‘I’ll make a note of that.’

The rumours about Burma died a death. Others began to circulate. They were all to do with a Second Front, which John Gordon in the
Sunday Express
thought ought to start sometime next week. Sounded dangerous to us. It was no good anyone saying we’d had it cushy so far. Everyone still wanted to stay alive, especially the gunners out on site. They were having a wonderful summer. Only Major Moffat and Sergeant-Major Baldwin wanted to see blood.

A senior officer from Brigade put in an appearance and gave us a lecture on rocket warfare. It meant the regiment was going to be equipped with rocket-firing machines as well as Bofors. It also meant that various personnel would be on a course soon.

IN THE PUB
, Kit crowned one of her men to make a king.

‘There’s a clever old sergeant,’ I said. ‘By the way, someone’s been talking to Major Moffat about me.’

‘I have,’ said Kit. ‘I wanted to take his mind off other things.’

‘What other things?’

‘Yes, you’ve got it, old buddy,’ she said, watching my move. ‘I simply told him that in view of your many talents, I couldn’t understand why you hadn’t made sergeant at least. I said you could fix anything and he said he knew that and that the last thing he’d do was put you in a position where you could fix him as well.’

‘I don’t fix things,’ I said, ‘I just do odd jobs for old ladies.’

‘What old ladies?’ asked Kit, surveying the board. She moved one of her men, forcing me to take it. ‘Zap,’ she said, ‘and bang bang.’ She smiled. ‘Old buddy, that’s cost you two men and a king.’

‘Did it when I wasn’t looking,’ I said.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. ‘Hi,’ said a friendly voice. Cecily. She’d arrived with Frisby. ‘How’s it going, Tim? Hope you’re pitching good.’

‘He’s not,’ said Kit, ‘he’s throwing weird ones as usual.’

‘Hi, guys,’ said Cassidy, arriving with Top Sergeant Dawson. He looked like a brown bear, Cassidy looked like his honey, Cecily looked 100 per cent cured and Frisby looked tidy. Cecily had taken to knotting his khaki tie for him and prettying him up. It was like taking up ownership. Except that Frisby hadn’t officially given in yet.

The latest rumour was that our little bunch of seconded Americans, male and female, were soon to leave us. Jim had said he reckoned that was right, right enough. Cecily refused to believe it. No way did she want to believe she was going to be parted from her doctor. Frisby, now in need of a doctor himself, had confided certain relevant details to me. I didn’t feel too qualified and all I could give him was a sympathetic hearing. He said that Cecily wanted to know if they’d still get to see each other. Frisby said he’d do his best. Cecily said that she’d have to fight any new feeling of insecurity.

‘That’s right, you fight it,’ said Frisby, ‘you’re a fully-grown woman now.’

‘Oh, sure,’ said Cecily, ‘but fully-grown women can still have their bad days when someone important to them isn’t in contact.’

Frisby said he’d have to do some heavy thinking about what was best for her. I told him to stop all his thinking and get on with things.

At the moment, however, Cecily had gone back to disbelieving the rumour. In her acquired spirit of camaraderie, she paid for drinks for all. We all sat as wartime mates around the table.

Jim came in, looking a bit dark under his hat and sucking his pipe upside-down. He beckoned me.

‘Excuse me a tick,’ I said.

‘Go ahead,’ said Kit. ‘It’s your mafia godfather.’

Jim took me outside, right outside, which I thought meant trouble. Without preamble, he said, ‘Missus reckons our Min’s in the fam’ly way.’

‘Eh?’

‘It’s what we both reckon,’ said Jim.

‘What?’

‘I ain’t goin’ to shout it, son,’ said Jim. Son?

‘You’re kidding me, Jim,’ I said. I wasn’t going to call him dad.

‘Wish I was, but I ain’t,’ he said. ‘Missus is fair certain and I been wonderin’ meself about Min gettin’ broody at times. I asked ’er straight out this mornin’, was she pregnant or wasn’t she. Told me to mind me own business. Told Missus that too when Missus asked. Missus reckons she’s been ’aving a bit of mornin’ sickness and said she’d best take ’er to the doctor’s. Min said she wasn’t goin’ to be taken to no doctor’s. Told us to leave ’er alone, said she’d got enough miseries as it was on account of you takin’ up with yer American lady sergeant. But I’m tellin’ yer, son, Missus and me both reckon Min’s in the club all right and Missus wants me to ask you a straight question. Did you get up to it with Min?’

‘You asking that for a laugh?’ I said.

‘Ain’t no laugh, Tim lad. Puttin’ a bun in Min’s oven ain’t nothing but serious and nor ain’t it good manners, neither. Missus is shocked.’

‘So am I.’ A picture of Major Moffat getting me for rape leapt into my mind. He would too, if he could. ‘I wouldn’t do a thing like that to Minnie, Jim. I couldn’t.’

‘Maybe you wouldn’t,’ said Jim, gloomily eyeing the village street. Cottage windows winked in the evening light. ‘But I ain’t sure you couldn’t. Manly young bloke like you. And Missus reckons Min would ’ave let you. Gone on you, our Min is. She wouldn’t ’ave let no Yank touch ’er, she’d ’ave poked ’is bleedin’ mince pies out. She’s got too much sense to fall for any Yank’s fancy talk, got ’er mind set on bein’ some nice chap’s wife. Yourn, I reckon, son.’ I honestly didn’t like the way he kept calling me son.

‘Listen, Jim, if Minnie really is pregnant, it wasn’t me. Have I ever been out with her or had a date with her? You know I haven’t. She’s too young.’

Jim peered darkly at me. The crowded pub was a buzz at our backs, the village street quiet. Very quiet. I felt every window was looking, listening and winking.

‘Well, I ask yer, Tim, ’ow about risin’ summer night? I reckon you got pretty close to Min that night, didn’t yer? Mind, I trusted yer. Tim won’t do wrong by our Min, I thought. She’ll maybe get ’im to kiss ’er, I thought, but Tim won’t give ’er more than that.’