We'll Meet Again (12 page)

‘She’s eighteen now. Is she here?’

‘No, she isn’t, and I suggest you go back where you came from.’

‘I’m not going back until I’ve seen her.’

‘Then you have a long wait. She’s at work. She won’t be home before nine o’clock, not then if she goes gallivanting with her new friends.’

‘Where does she work? She never said.’

‘No, she wouldn’t. She’s trying to put the past behind her and that means anything to do with her old life. You are wasting your time.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘I am not accustomed to being called a liar, young man. Now I suggest you go before I call the police.’

‘OK, I’m going. Tell me where she works.’

Constance laughed. ‘Bletchley Park. Go there if you must but don’t blame me if you find yourself locked up.’ She slammed the door in his face.

Chris always gave most of his wages to his mother and it had taken a few weeks to save enough for the train fare and the ring he had in his pocket. Three pounds it had cost him, over a week’s wages, and he did not intend to go home until he had put it on Sheila’s finger.

Everyone in the town knew where Bletchley Park was and it wasn’t long before he found himself at the gate and confronting a sentry in naval uniform. ‘You can’t come in here.’

‘I want to see my girl. She works here.’

‘Makes no odds, you can’t come in.’

‘Then fetch her out to me. I must see her. Her name is Sheila Phipps.’

‘I don’t know the names of all people who work here, lad. There are hundreds of us and security is tighter than your arse.’

‘Can’t you turn your back for a moment?’

‘Certainly not.’

‘Then I’ll just have to hang around ’til she comes out.’

‘D’you want to get yourself arrested?’

‘No, course not. But I have to see her. I’m off to Chatham on Monday and I want to say goodbye to her.’

‘Go to her billet.’

‘The old battleaxe wouldn’t let me in either.’

The sentry laughed. ‘Wait here.’ He turned and picked up a telephone in the sentry box and spoke to someone. ‘There’s a young lad at the gate wants to come in and speak to his girl.’ Pause. ‘No, he won’t go away.’ Another pause. ‘Yes, sir.’ He put the phone down and turned back to Chris. ‘Someone’s coming.’

Chris peered through the gate. There was a path and some gardens but he couldn’t see much else. People came and went through the gate after having their passes scrutinised by the sentry. He tried to slip in behind one of them, but was grabbed by his jacket collar and hauled back. ‘No, you don’t young feller, m’lad. You wait here.’

A couple of military policemen arrived and, before he knew it, he was being blindfolded and frog-marched he knew not where. They took him into a building and up some stairs where they removed the blindfold. He was in an office and there was a naval commander facing him. ‘Sit down,’ he said, indicating a chair.

Chris sat and then began a thorough interrogation which scared him half to death. It wasn’t that the man laid hands on him, because he was politeness itself, but the fact that he was suspected of breaking some law he knew nothing about and according to his interrogator the punishment was dire. He would probably spend the rest of the war in clink. ‘I don’t know anything about what goes on here, Sheila never said,’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t even know she worked here, until today.’

‘How did you find out? Did she tell you?’

‘No, her landlady did. She said I’d be arrested if I came and she weren’t far wrong.’

‘You haven’t been arrested – yet.’

‘If you arrest me, you’ll have to answer to the Admiralty. I’m due to report at Chatham for war service on Monday.’

‘I can soon check that.’

‘You do that, sir, then perhaps you’ll believe me. I’ve done no wrong and if I’ve messed up your security, then I’m sorry. It weren’t intended.’

The man laughed. ‘I believe you. What did you see as you came in?’

‘Nothing, those MPs blindfolded me.’

‘You will have to go out the same way, I’m afraid.’

‘But I want to see Sheila. I’ve got a ring in my pocket for her.’

‘Do you know what she does here?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea, but I can’t think what she does that has to be so secret; she’s only an ordinary working girl, a shop assistant until a couple of months ago.’

‘We all have our part to play, Mr Jarrett. But sit still, I’ll see what I can do.’

He went into an adjoining room. Chris heard the murmur of voices and then the officer came back. ‘They’ll have to find her, it might take a few minutes. You can wait here.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

The officer went back to the work on his desk and Chris simply sat and waited. Neither spoke. Ten minutes later, a breathless Sheila arrived. Chris stood up, a broad grin on his face.

‘Chris, what on earth are you doing here?’

‘I came to see you.’

‘And they let you in?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced towards the officer, who showed no sign of
leaving them alone. ‘I’m off into the navy next week and I wanted to say goodbye and …’ He fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out the box containing the ring and flipped it open. ‘I wanted to give you this.’

If he had expected delight and an eagerness to pick up the ring and slip it on, he was disappointed. She simply stared at it. ‘Chris, you shouldn’t have.’

‘Why not? You know how I feel about you. I wanted to make it official.’

‘Oh, Chris, why didn’t you ask me before you spent the money?’

‘Are you turning me down?’ He was miserable and bitterly disappointed and she had changed. Not so much in looks but the way she held herself and the way she spoke, especially in the way she spoke. Posh-like.

‘But it’s the wrong time. We are both young, there is a war on … Who knows what will happen.’

‘It won’t change the way I feel.’

‘I’m sorry, Chris, truly I am, but I just don’t think it’s the right time.’

‘Your aunt said you’d found new friends.’

‘Of course I have. You can’t get along without friends, Chris, and you are one of the best.’

‘Then I’ll wait for you to change your mind. If I get killed you might be sorry.’

‘Of course I would be sorry. I’m not hard-hearted, Chris, but …’

‘Oh, I understand. You’ve got above yourself, that’s what. P’raps I never was good enough for you.’

‘That’s not true. I haven’t changed. I’m still me.’ After a pause she added, ‘Are you staying in Bletchley tonight?’

He had planned to do so, to take her out somewhere and
celebrate, but in the face of her rejection, he changed his mind. ‘No, I promised Ma I’d be back. Tomorrow’s my last day at home.’

She held out her hand. ‘Then good luck.’

He ignored it and made to leave but the officer stopped him. ‘Sorry, old chap, you have to be escorted off the premises. Miss Phipps, you may return to duty.’

She smiled at Chris as she left. ‘Sorry, Chris, so very sorry. Perhaps I’ll see you when we both get leave.’ Then she was gone.

He put the ring back in his pocket and waited for his escort, mentally cursing the officer whose presence had inhibited him. He could have said so much more, would have persuaded her, he was sure. He had never felt so miserable in his life.

‘I felt an absolute heel,’ Sheila told Prue later that day, as they sat together on the bed in Prue’s room. ‘But I couldn’t pretend, could I?’

‘No definitely not. He’ll get over it and you are still very young. There’s plenty of time.’

‘I hope so. Miss Reed gave me a lecture about security which went on and on. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t ask Chris to come and make a fuss. I didn’t even tell him where I worked, Aunt Constance did. He knew her address because I told him when I knew I was coming here and we’ve been writing to each other. In any case I don’t know what goes on at BP. I just do my job, carrying envelopes and packages from place to place. I don’t even know what you do.’

‘Boring office work. Miss Reed must have believed you or you would have been out on your ear.’

‘Aunt Constance has been nagging me about Chris. She says it’s disgusting to have boyfriends at my age and no doubt I’ll go the way of my mother. I’ve no idea what she meant by that. I wouldn’t mind being like my mother. She was the best. She and Pa loved each other. And they loved all us kids.’

‘Take no notice, the old dragon is repressed.’

‘I just need someone to love.’

‘Oh, Sheila.’ Prue put her arm round the girl’s shoulder and hugged her. ‘I know it’s not the same, but you can love me.’

‘Oh, I do.’

‘Just hold onto this thought: if it is meant to be, he’ll be back.’

Tim and Prue came out of the smoky warmth of the cinema into the cold crisp air of a late January night and, arms linked, made for the Black Bull in Huntingdon where Prue had taken a room. The film they had just seen was
The Lion Has Wings
, about an RAF attack on a German battleship and how the Luftwaffe bombers were turned back from London by barrage balloons.
Part newsreel, part acting, it starred Ralph Richardson and Merle Oberon and had been doing the rounds of the country’s cinemas for nearly a year.

Tim was incensed. ‘Blatant propaganda,’ he said. ‘Lies from beginning to end. They couldn’t even get their facts right. All those pre-war biplanes whizzing about and everyone fearless and patriotic. And that German bomber was actually an airliner. My God, do they think people are going to be taken in by it? And the speech by Merle Oberon at the end was so cloying, it was unbelievable. I don’t wonder Ralph Richardson fell asleep while she was giving it. Why couldn’t they tell it like it really is?’

Prue hugged his arm with both hands. ‘I suppose it was made before the Blitz started. It was meant to make people feel cheerful and optimistic.’

‘Well, it hasn’t made me feel cheerful. I felt like throwing something at the screen.’

She laughed. ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

The river was wide and deep before swirling under the ancient bridge. They stood in one of the embrasures and looked down at the fast-flowing water. The moonlight shining on it made it gleam like a silver ribbon. ‘Rivers make good landmarks,’ he said. ‘We always try to identify rivers when we’re over there.’

‘Is it very bad? Silly question, of course it is. Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not really. Let’s get in the warm.’ He took her arm to walk the short distance to the inn. ‘Do you think they’ll have anything to eat at that hotel of yours?’

‘I expect they’ll rustle up a sandwich if we ask nicely.’

‘Good. The food we get is pretty basic, except before an op, when we are served bacon and eggs.’ He gave a hollow chuckle. ‘The condemned man ate a hearty breakfast.’

‘Do you have to go back to Wyton tonight?’

He turned and grinned at her. ‘Is that an invitation?’

‘Could be. So when are you due back?’

‘I have to report by eight in the morning.’

‘How will you get back?’

‘There’s buses or a taxi or I could walk.’

The lounge was deserted but they were able to obtain sandwiches and a bottle of wine and two glasses by ringing the bell in reception, and sat in a corner to eat and drink.

‘Do you think we could sneak this up to your room?’ he asked.

There was no one about; the staff had evidently gone home or gone to bed. The porter who had taken their order had disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. They successfully negotiated the stairs to Prue’s room, carrying the bottle, glasses and sandwiches. ‘I feel very wicked,’ she said, laughing and taking off her coat and hat and throwing them on a chair.

‘Good,’ he said, pouring wine. ‘I shan’t have a fight on my hands.’

‘What would you do if I did resist?’ she asked, sitting on the side of the bed.

He handed her a full glass. ‘I suppose I should have to behave like a gentleman. But you aren’t going to resist, are you?’ He took off his jacket and sat down beside her.

‘I don’t know. I’ve often wondered what I would do.’

‘You mean you’re an innocent?’ He affected surprise.

‘Not so much innocent as inexperienced. I’ve led a sheltered life, home and girls’ school. Not that I haven’t had my chances,’ she added, laughing. ‘I never felt the inclination.’

‘War changes things,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It changes people. Things we would never dream of doing in peacetime become commonplace. Men who have seen the murky side of
war try and relieve it by picking up the first willing girl and making love to her.’

‘That’s not love, that’s lust.’

‘True. War makes us lusty, not that we weren’t lusty before, simply schooled to be patient and restrain ourselves.’ He took a gulp of wine. ‘Now there isn’t time. We might be dead tomorrow.’

‘Oh, Tim, don’t talk like that.’ The film had evidently touched a raw nerve and the wine was making his mood worse.

‘Why not? It’s true. Have you any idea of the casualties we’ve suffered?’

‘I think so,’ she said quietly.

‘I don’t mean what they put out on the news. That’s lies, like everything else. Bomber Command has lost hundreds of men and aeroplanes, a lot more than Fighter Command, who get all the praise. And for what? So that we can fly in the cold and the dark for hours on end to pulverise a German city. There are men, women and children in those cities, people who didn’t want this war any more than we did. And I’m expected to murder them.’