Wish Me Luck (6 page)

She should have been helping him. With Fleur gone, he was always short-handed nowadays, even though Kenny lent a hand whenever he could. And that was another worry. Where was Kenny? He should have been home from school hours ago. They had persuaded their son to stay on at school into the sixth form, with the hope that he might go on to university afterwards. Anything to try to keep him out of the war for as long as possible.

Betsy craned her neck, trying to see further up and down the lane through the gathering gloom. She opened the window and leant out, straining to hear the sound of his whistling. Kenny was always whistling as he rattled homewards on his bicycle. She’d hear him long before she saw him … But the evening air was still, the only sounds the occasional bark of their dog as he helped herd the cows along the lane.

And Fleur – where was she? She’d not come back since going out to meet that boy. Meg’s boy. Betsy had watched her go from this very window – had seen her walk down the lane. Watched her turn the corner until she was out of sight.

The very lane that Meg had walked down all those years ago as she left with her baby. The day that Jake had said ‘goodbye’ to her for ever. The day he had chosen to stay with Betsy and their daughter, and they had stood together in the yard and watched Meg walk away.

Betsy sank back into the chair, her arms resting on the sill, and dropped her head onto her arms. It was as if the intervening years had never happened. As if all the love and care Jake had lavished on his children and, yes, on her too, she had to admit, had never happened.

It seemed like only yesterday that she’d stood beside him as he’d waved goodbye to Meg.

‘I’ll drop you at the main gate for you to book in at the guardroom,’ the driver of the RAF lorry that had met them at Lincoln railway station told them, as he drove through Wickerton village and turned into the gateway of the RAF station. Robbie and Fleur had met up on the Nottingham to Lincoln train as they had planned and travelled the last few miles together.

‘Here we are, then,’ the driver said as he slowed the vehicle to a halt just in front of the barrier. Whilst they waited for the sentry to approach them, he added, ‘You’ll need to report in at the main guardroom here first, but all the living quarters are set well away from the actual airfield itself. The Waafery’s that way, miss.’ He pointed along the road to the left. Fleur giggled inwardly at the nickname given to the WAAF buildings.

‘That’s where you need to go and they’ll tell you where to go from there, but you, sunshine’ – he nodded at Robbie – ‘will have a bit of a walk.’ His grin widened as he added, ‘I reckon they’ve built the fellers’ quarters as far away from the lasses as they can.’

Robbie laughed. ‘I shouldn’t wonder!’

‘Over there, see.’ The driver jerked his thumb to the right, towards several buildings of all shapes and sizes, scattered across a vast area some distance away. ‘That’s the men’s quarters. There’s the CO’s quarters, officers’ mess, sergeants’ mess, airmen’s mess, NAAFI, gym, chapel and the sick quarters. Let’s hope you don’t see much of that place, though.’ He winked at Robbie. ‘I wouldn’t mind meself. There’s a couple of nice nurses there, so I’ve heard.’

Robbie jumped down and held out his hand to help Fleur. ‘Home for the next few months at least.’

As the lorry drove off further into the camp with a series of splutters and bangs, they looked about them.

Fleur shaded her eyes against the setting sun beyond the distant airfield, its huge, camouflaged hangars black silhouettes against the golden glow. A little nearer several aircraft stood in a silent row.

‘What are those?’ Fleur asked. Though she’d studied pictures of various aircraft, she’d never been so close to one.

‘Hampdens,’ Robbie murmured. ‘I wonder if one of them’s ours.’

Fleur gazed at the planes and shuddered. Soon Robbie might be flying night after night in one of them. And she would be left watching and listening and waiting.

‘Come on,’ he said, picking up his belongings and Fleur’s kitbag too. ‘We’d better do as we’ve been told and then I suppose we’ll have to go our separate ways.’ The regret in his tone mirrored her feelings.

‘But we’ll see each other, won’t we? About camp, I mean?’

He grinned at her through the gathering dusk. ‘Just let ’em try to stop us.’ But his hearty tone was forced now. The worry was still in both their minds. Should they even be meeting at all?

When they’d reported in, they stood together for another few minutes, in the middle of the road, both reluctant to make the final move to part.

‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone about,’ Fleur said. ‘I thought the place’d be teeming with activity.’

‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Maybe it’s supper-time or something.’

‘That’d explain it.’

‘Or maybe they’re flying …’

Again, a silence, but neither of them moved.

Robbie nodded towards the WAAF buildings. A few were obviously still under construction. ‘I’d heard this was a newish station. Looks like it’s not finished yet.’

Fleur looked about her and then said reluctantly, ‘We … we’d better go, hadn’t we?’

Robbie grinned. ‘Trying to get rid of me already, are you?’

‘Course not.’ Fleur pretended indignation that he could even think such a thing. ‘I just don’t want you in trouble on your first day. I … I’m not quite sure how they’ll view the men and women mixing, especially different ranks. You know … ?’

Robbie laughed aloud. ‘Shouldn’t think they’ll be able to stop it even if they try.’ His blue eyes twinkled at her through the gathering dusk. ‘Not with us they won’t. Will they?’

‘Not likely,’ Fleur grinned, then she sighed. ‘I’d better report in at the Waafery.’

‘And I’d better go and find the rest of the chaps, I suppose,’ Robbie said and handed over her kitbag. ‘So – this is it then?’

Fleur nodded and tried to smile. ‘Looks like it. I … I’ll see you around, then.’

‘You most certainly will even if I have to break into the Waafery at night.’

‘Don’t you dare …’ she began and then realized he was teasing. Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t do anything that would get her into trouble, even if he didn’t mind for himself.

As she moved towards the WAAF buildings, Fleur glanced over her shoulder and waved as Robbie’s long strides took him along the road in the opposite direction further and further away from her. At the same moment, he turned and raised his arm in the air and then strode away, quickening his pace.

With a small sigh, Fleur shouldered her heavy kit-bag and walked towards the Waafery. As she did so, a WAAF came out of the nearest building, slamming the door behind her. As she drew nearer, Fleur could see that she was short and round, her uniform buttons straining to stay fastened across her ample bosom. She was a good few years older than Fleur and her plump cheeks were florid, her small eyes almost lost in the fatness of her face.

The woman – a Flight Sergeant – would have walked straight past without even glancing at her had not Fleur said, ‘Excuse me. I’ve just arrived. Could you tell me where I have to go?’

The WAAF stopped, looked Fleur up and down, and then snapped, ‘Name?’

Fleur reeled off her number, rank and name.

‘You’re late. Supper’s nearly finished, but you’d best go to the dining room.’ She nodded towards the building she had just left. ‘You might get something.’ She didn’t sound very hopeful and seemed to care even less. ‘Find Morrison. You’re billeted with her. In the village. And report to Flight Sergeant Watson in Control in the morning. They work a system of shifts in the watch office: a four-hour and then an eight-hour, times varying of course, so between all the operators, the twenty-four hours are covered, with always at least two on duty. More sometimes, when they’re flying. The rota’s posted on the board in the office. Because you work a twelve-hour day and often through the night, the time off is very generous.’ It sounded as if she heartily disapproved of the WAAFs being given any time off. No doubt she was a great believer in the ‘idle hands’ saying.

‘Thank you,’ Fleur said carefully.

The older woman eyed her critically. ‘Your hair’s too long. It’s touching your collar. Either mind it’s tied up properly under your cap or get it cut.’ Then she turned and marched away.

‘Well,’ Fleur murmured as she watched her go. ‘I hope the other girls are a little friendlier than you!’

As Fleur entered the dining room, the noise of chatter and laughter hit her. She stood, blinking in the bright light, and looked around her, not sure what to do.

Catching sight of her, a plump, merry-faced girl with unruly fair curls rose from her seat at one of the long tables and came bouncing towards her. ‘Hello there. Come and sit with us and I’ll get you something to eat. Leave your gear there. We’ll sort it out in a mo.’

She caught hold of Fleur’s arm and pulled her towards the place where she’d been sitting. ‘Budge up, you lot. Room for a little ’un. Sorry about the squash. We’re having to make do with trestle tables at the mo, though they keep telling us that proper dining tables and chairs are on order.’ Then she rushed away towards the counter where the food was being served.

As they shuffled along the bench seat to make room for her, the other girls smiled at her. ‘Just arrived, have you?’

Fleur nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks,’ she added, as she squeezed into the space they’d made for her. The girl who’d greeted her arrived back carrying a plate of cheese on toast and a mug of tea. ‘There. Get that down you. Bet you’re hungry. Come far, have you?’ She hardly paused for breath as she sat down again. ‘I’m Ruth Morrison, by the way, and you’ll be with me. We’re billeted in the village. Most of the girls are.’ She nudged Fleur and winked. ‘Don’t reckon they trust us to stay on the camp with the fellers.’

‘It’s nothing of the sort,’ a fair-haired girl sitting opposite retorted. ‘Don’t listen to her. I’m Peggy Marshall.’ She held out her hand across the table and Fleur took it.

‘Fleur Bosley. Hello.’

‘And don’t believe a word our Ruth tells you. Truth is, they haven’t got the sleeping quarters finished yet, so most of us are billeted out …’

‘Not all of us.’ A dark-haired girl further down the table remarked. There was a distinct note of resentment in her tone, though, as Fleur glanced at her, the girl winked. ‘Some of us,’ she went on dryly, ‘have to put up with sleeping in a draughty hut on hard biscuit beds and eat forces’ fare whilst the rest of you languish in feather beds and are plied with delicious home cooking by the locals.’

There were cries of derision and someone threw a dry biscuit at her, but the girl just smiled, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘That’s Kay Fullerton, by the way. As you can see, she’s a corporal,’ Ruth said. ‘The rest of us are just lowly ACWs.’

Fleur nodded. ‘Me too.’

Ruth nodded towards Kay as she added, ‘She doesn’t mean it – about the sleeping arrangements, I mean.’

‘Oh yes I do. Why should all the newcomers get the best billets, I’d like to know?’

Fleur looked up and met the girl’s belligerent expression. ‘Well, I don’t mind sleeping here if you want to swap,’ she offered.

Kay stared at her for a moment until someone else put in, ‘Kay’s all talk. She’ll not leave camp – she’s already got her eye on one of the new pilots that’s just arrived.’

The remark was greeted by loud guffaws and even Kay smiled sheepishly. ‘No, you’re OK, but – thanks for the offer.’

As there was a general movement to get up from the table, Kay came up to Fleur and held out her hand. ‘You’re the first one to do that.’

Closer now, Fleur could see that the girl had the most unusual dark blue eyes – so dark they were almost violet. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and her black hair was so shiny it seemed to glint in the light as she moved. She was really very pretty.

‘She gives all the new ones a hard time over it,’ Ruth explained, ‘just to see how they react.’

Kay laughed. ‘Most of them go all red and embarrassed, but none of them have ever offered to swap. You’re all right, Fleur Bosley. In my book anyway.’

Now it was Fleur’s turn to look a little embarrassed at the unexpected compliment.

‘Not one to hold back is our Kay. You’ll get it straight John Bull from her,’ Ruth said. ‘If she likes you, she’ll tell you so. And if she doesn’t – well, she’ll tell you that an’ all.’

‘What job will you be doing? Do you know?’ Kay asked.

‘R/T operator.’

Kay’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, then you’ll be with me in Control. That’s good. Welcome aboard, Fleur.’ Then she spun on her heel, adding, ‘Must go. Things to do, people to see. See you tomorrow.’ And before Fleur could say a word, she had marched down the long room and out of the door.

Ruth spluttered with laughter. ‘She’s a caution, that one, as my mother would say.’

Fleur smiled. She was feeling very much at home already. She liked Ruth and had taken to the girl she now knew would be working with her. She wondered if she’d be working with Ruth too. ‘What do you do, Ruth?’

‘I’m in intelligence. I help at briefings and then debrief the crews when they come back from a raid.’

‘That must be tough,’ Fleur murmured sympathetically.