Ellie (22 page)

They were used to seeing vapour trails in the sky, indicating a battle was taking place. They heard aircraft overhead, sirens wailing, the rattle of machinegun fire, and sometimes caught sight of a parachutist dropping from the sky or heard the occasional bang of a falling bomb. But until that day in August, 1943 all reports of destruction had been far enough from Amberley for them to be casual about it.

Bonny had no desire to go back to the austerity of London at war. Sussex was just fine, and if she could find a way to stall her parents until she was old enough to join a dancing troupe, then she’d never return to Dagenham.

‘What does Miss Wynter think about this secretarial college idea then?’ Jack asked from beneath the car bonnet.

‘She won’t say.’ Bonny pouted, swishing back her hair from her face. ‘I know she thinks it’s still very dangerous in London, but as I’m old enough to leave school next month, I suppose she thinks I’m big enough to leave her too. Can you speak to her, Jack?’

Jack smiled to himself. He had guessed Bonny’s arrival at the garage today had some purpose behind it. ‘You want me to try and influence Miss Wynter I suppose?’ he said drily.

He came out from under the bonnet and just looked at Bonny. He adored her, but there were times when he wanted to shake her. She always thought about herself first. Now he was supposed to back her up, tell Lydia Bonny was breaking her heart about going home, yet afraid to hurt her parents’ feelings, when in fact her plans had nothing to do with any of the people who loved her.

‘Why do you have to be so devious?’ he reproached her. ‘The real reason you want to stay here is because Lydia will help you get into shows when the war’s over.’

Bonny blushed. Jack knew her better than anyone, but she hated the way he was always so blunt about her motives. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ she snapped back. ‘You chose to stay here rather than find work in London and help your mum out.’

Jack shook his head. ‘My mum couldn’t care less about me, or Michael and Tom. I can do more for my brothers by doing an apprenticeship here than giving Mum money so she can go out and get drunk. Your parents are different.’

Sometimes Jack was very aggravating. Bonny thought he should take only her feelings into account, but he always had to have a broader view.

‘Does that mean you won’t stick up for me?’ Bonny tossed her head arrogantly.

Jack paused before answering.

Bonny saw his indecision and knew she had to persuade him somehow. Aunt Lydia liked and trusted Jack. He could easily influence her into offering some alternative suggestion that would appease her parents.

She moved closer to him. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might want to stay here because of you?’ she said softly, looking right into his eyes. She could always tell what he was thinking by doing this. They were light brown with amber flecks and they registered anger, hurt, love and disbelief more clearly than anyone else’s eyes. ‘Don’t you know I lie awake at nights thinking about you?’

She saw his expression change from suspicion to bewilderment. She knew how he felt about her and it gave her a charge when she saw it in his eyes.

Jack’s heart began to pound alarmingly, sweat breaking out on his brow. He could see the outline of her small firm breasts beneath her thin blouse and he licked his lips nervously.

‘Kiss me, Jack?’ she whispered, reaching up and cupping his face between her two hands.

Her lips touched his before he could stop her. His hands fluttered at his sides, afraid to touch her because of the dirt on them. But the moist warmth of her lips drove away all reason and his eyes closed involuntarily, his body leaning in towards hers.

The delicious sweetness only lasted for a brief moment. Jack opened his eyes as she moved away from him and found she was smiling.

‘Can’t you do any better than that?’ she teased.

‘I – I can’t hold you,’ he stuttered, his voice hoarse with emotion. ‘I’m so dirty.’

‘Well, clean yourself up and meet me tonight,’ Bonny said, turning away towards the open garage door. ‘At seven, by the bridge.’

Jack watched her jump on her bicycle and pedal away. She waved one hand but didn’t turn her head. Her hair was flowing back in the breeze and her slim waist and small buttocks made his heart contract painfully.

He turned back to the engine, knowing he must have it finished by five, but his mind was on Bonny and the taste of her lips.

Being evacuated to Amberley had been the making of Jack and his brothers. Mr and Mrs Baker had wiped out all the years of deprivation and their mother’s indifference. With Bert and Alec Hatt he’d discovered that real men didn’t have to be brutes. They’d encouraged his passion for mechanical things, letting him work alongside them, and taught him to appreciate nature and the countryside.

But it was Bonny who’d really motivated Jack. She had vision. Not only did she see herself on the silver screen, but she made dreams for him too. First an apprenticeship, then a garage of his own. One day he could own dozens up and down the country and get others to work for him. She brought magazines down from Briar Bank, glossy ones with pictures of limousines and flashy American cars, and together they’d lapse into happy day-dreams of Bonny in a mink coat and Jack at the wheel of a Rolls-Royce.

She didn’t stop at dreams, either. It was Bonny who wheedled Miss Wynter into persuading Alec to take him on as an apprentice, then set to work on Alec until he thought it was all his own idea.

After that day when Bonny had almost drowned, they’d become closer than brother and sister. They climbed trees together, made camps, swopped comics, went scrumping and explored the surrounding countryside. Everyone in the village shook their heads over this odd friendship. Sometimes they thought Jack felt sorry for the girl because no one else liked her; other times they claimed Bonny just used Jack. What they didn’t know was that Jack and Bonny had found something in one another that they couldn’t find elsewhere. Jack loved her plucky nature and her imagination. She was more fun than another boy because the two of them didn’t have to compete; she was the sister he never had.

To Bonny, Jack was excitement. With him she could do the kind of things her mother would never have allowed, but with the safety net of his protectiveness. He didn’t put her on a pedestal, but liked her as she really was. It was Jack who taught her to ride a bike, to whistle, to light fires. In turn, she taught him how to waltz, to play board-games and to use his imagination.

Swimming was the only thing he couldn’t persuade her to join him at. Littlehampton’s beach was swathed in barbed wire, but even if they had been allowed near the sea he knew she wouldn’t do more than paddle. She would sit on the wooden jetty by the river watching him swim, but apart from dipping her toes in the water, she went no further.

It was only since Christmas that Jack had begun to realise his feelings for her were no longer brotherly. He’d gone to watch her dance in a pantomime in Bognor and the sight of her budding breasts under the tight costume had given him an erection. Since then he had fallen asleep nightly thinking about her, torturing himself by imagining holding and kissing her. As the months went by he’d watched her figure changing into a woman’s and sometimes when he was with her he was tongue-tied by her beauty.

If she’d been sixteen, as she looked, no one would have said anything about them being sweethearts. But she was only fourteen, and he knew if Miss Wynter was to guess what was in his mind, she’d take a horsewhip to him.

*

‘I’ve had it.’ Belinda tossed her tennis-racket on the grass and flopped down beside it. ‘You’re too good for me, Bonny.’

Bonny fastidiously wiped the sweat from her forehead and joined Belinda on the grass.

Belinda was Bonny’s only real girlfriend. If Bonny hadn’t carefully cultivated her, it was quite possible she would have been as wary of Bonny as the other girls.

Belinda was Dr Noakes’s daughter – petite, with dark, curly hair and a sweet nature. The only girl in a family of four boys, she was always grateful for Bonny’s company and she invited her round for tennis or parties all the time. Belinda danced too, although she had no plans to make it a career as Bonny did.

Dr Noakes’s home wasn’t an impressive one: just a plain, Victorian, family house with furniture made shabby by his five children. But the garden was huge, with a splendid view of the river, and although a great deal of it had been put down to vegetables, no one had managed to persuade him to dig up the tennis court.

‘It’s so hot.’ Belinda fanned herself with her hand. ‘We had some of our lessons outside yesterday because some of the girls were half asleep.’

‘What’s it like at your new school then?’ Bonny asked. Belinda had been moved from the village school when she was thirteen to a small private one in Arundel.

‘Stuffy.’ Belinda pulled a face. ‘My teacher Miss Hobbs is an ogre. I asked my father if I could get a job when I get my school certificate, but he’s dead set on me going to university.’

Bonny saw this as an opportunity to air her problems and launched into her account of the college in Romford.

‘I can’t see why you have to go there,’ Belinda said in surprise. ‘Why not go to Mayfield in Littlehampton?’

Bonny looked blank.

‘Don’t you know it?’ Belinda seemed surprised. ‘It’s a bit like a finishing school. You know the stuff, good manners, deportment, French and music, but they changed it just before the war when that sort of thing went out of date. Now they do typing and shorthand too. One of my cousins went there.’

‘I suppose it’s expensive?’ Bonny knew her parents were planning to pay for the place in Romford, but this sounded as if it was in another league.

‘It can’t be that bad, my aunt and uncle aren’t rolling in it,’ Belinda said. ‘Why don’t you ask Miss Wynter to get a prospectus? You have to wear a posh uniform. Pink dresses and boaters!’

That decided Bonny. She could just see herself in that outfit.

‘Have you ever heard of Mayfield College in Littlehampton?’ Bonny asked Aunt Lydia over their tea.

Lydia was wearing her WVS uniform, as she would be driving a mobile canteen later. It should have looked awful on her, a grey-green tweed suit and a beetroot red jumper with the kind of felt hat people associated with Angela Brazil books about posh boarding-schools. But Lydia had the suit altered by a tailor and managed to remould the hat to make it look dashing.

‘Yes dear.’ Lydia was reading the paper as she ate, and her reply was more courtesy than a real answer. ‘How awful, Leslie Howard is dead. The civilian plane he was travelling in was shot down by Germans. What a terrible way for a man like him to die.’

‘Yes, dreadful,’ Bonny agreed politely. She only remembered the man as the drip Ashley in
Gone with the Wind
. Perhaps he should have had more sense than to travel by plane. ‘You do know Mayfield then?’

Lydia looked up from the paper. ‘Sorry dear, what was that?’

One of the things which Bonny liked most about Lydia was her diverse interests. Aside from music and dancing, she liked sport, cars and the theatre. She read everything from magazines to literary books and studied the newspapers to keep abreast of world affairs. There was never any danger of her discussing cake ingredients.

‘Mayfield College,’ Bonny repeated. ‘Do you know it?’

Lydia smiled and put her paper down. ‘Yes I do. Several of my friends went there as girls. What makes you ask?’

‘Belinda was talking about it. She said you can do typing and shorthand there. Is it really expensive?’

‘Not terribly,’ Lydia said, taking a bit of bread and wincing. ‘Ugh, this bread is disgusting. I don’t know how they expect us to eat it.’

The national wheatmeal loaf was all they could get now and though it might be more nutritious than white bread, everyone complained about the lumpy bits in it.

‘Mayfield sounds nice.’ Bonny knew she had to give Lydia something to think about on her long drive tonight, but at the same time make no demands. ‘I wish Mum and Dad would let me go somewhere like that rather than Romford.’

Lydia poured them both another cup of tea. ‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to go home?’ she asked.

Lydia hated the idea of losing Bonny. She thought of her as a daughter now, despite many ups and downs. London wasn’t safe, Dagenham was a wasteland and she was afraid that if Bonny was uprooted now, at such a crucial stage in her life, she might rebel.

‘I don’t know,’ Bonny sighed deeply. ‘I want to see Mummy and Daddy, but all my friends are here and there’s you.’

Bonny was never one to miss an opportunity for drama. She managed to squeeze out a couple of tears, then rushed away from the table.

Lydia followed her, as Bonny knew she would. ‘Why the tears?’ she said, catching hold of Bonny out in the hall. ‘Is there something more?’

‘I don’t want to go away from you,’ Bonny whispered, leaning her head against Lydia’s shoulder. ‘But I’m afraid of hurting Mummy and Daddy’s feelings.’

Lydia held her for a moment. She suspected this might be theatricals, yet she wanted to believe Bonny.

‘Look, darling, I’ve got to go now,’ she said. ‘But I’ll give it some thought tonight while I’m working. Now promise me you’ll behave yourself this evening. I don’t mind you going out for a while, but be back by nine. Be sure to lock the door behind you, you know how nervous I am at leaving you alone at night.’

Jack was waiting at the bridge, sitting on the parapet smoking a cigarette. The moment he saw Bonny coming down the road he leaped down to meet her.

He had made a great effort with his appearance, but he knew he fell a long way short of smart. His grey flannel trousers were a pair Bert Baker had grown too fat for, but they were still too big for Jack’s slim hips. Mrs Baker had made his shirt out of some old sheets but the collar didn’t sit right. Only his blazer pleased him. It was a really good quality one, passed on to him by Mrs Garside of Amberley Castle. It had belonged to her son, a Battle of Britain pilot who had been shot down over the Channel while returning to his base at Biggin Hill. There was a faint mark on the breast pocket where his RAF badge had been. Jack was proud to wear a hero’s jacket.