Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (93 page)

‘Bless ’em all, the long and the short …’

‘Come on,’ cried Rene as Connie held back, ‘let’s join in.’

An American GI caught Rene’s arm and pulled her into the body of moving people.
‘… this side of the ocean, so cheer up my lads bless ’em all.’

‘Oh Rene,’ cried Connie, ‘it’s really, really over.’

Picking up the lyrics, they lurched with the crowd towards Nelson’s column, the base of which was still covered in hoarding to protect it from bomb blasts even though the last air raid warning had been sounded on 19 March. Someone had stuck a poster on it with ‘Victory over Germany 1945’ on one side and ‘Give thanks by saving.’

Connie nudged Rene in the ribs and jerking her head, shouted over the noise, ‘Give thanks by saving? I should cocoa!’ and they both laughed.

After so much hardship and sacrifice, did the government really think everyone was going to keep on being frugal and sensible with their money? Some might, but not her. She was twenty-one and she’d already spent the best years of her life scrimping and making do, first in the munitions factory and then, after a spell of sick leave, in the WAAFs. Now that the war was over, Connie had no idea what she wanted to do but she was sure of one thing. She was in no mood to save for the future. Hadn’t she just blown all her coupons on her new outfit, a lovely pale lemon sweater and some grey pinstriped slacks? And then there was Emmett. She had hoped he would have asked her to marry him by now, but he hadn’t, presumably because he was anxious about his mother’s health. He’d asked her a few times to go further but Connie had told him she wasn’t that sort of a girl. Still, Rene was right. This was no time to nurse her disappointments. Today was the day to enjoy herself.

In the press of the crowd, Rene was standing on tiptoe to see if anything was happening. ‘We should have got away earlier,’ she grumbled good-naturedly. ‘There’s too many people here.’ Despite the noise all around her, Connie heard a distinct tap-tapping sound just behind her and froze. Someone was tapping his cigarette on a cigarette case. Her blood ran cold and her heartbeat quickened. A surge in the crowd made the woman beside push her and she apologised. ‘Sorry, luv.’

‘Has Churchill given his speech yet?’ Rene asked.

Connie listened hard. The person behind her clicked a cigarette case closed. It couldn’t be … could it? No, it was impossible. It would be far too much of a coincidence.

‘It was supposed to be at nine o’clock this morning,’ the woman went on, ‘but we’re still waiting.’ She rolled her eyes towards the lions. ‘They’ve been putting up speakers so that we can hear him but as for when that happens, your guess is as good as mine.’

‘You all right, Connie?’ said Rene. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

‘Three o’clock,’ said a man’s voice behind them. Connie turned sharply to look at him. Sure enough, he was putting his cigarette case into his inside jacket pocket and was reaching for a lighter. He lit the fag between his lips and took a long drag. ‘That’s what the copper on the steps told me,’ he went on. ‘Three o’clock.’

A wave of relief flooded over her. The man was old, forty or maybe fifty with greying hair and a tobacco-stained moustache. It was all right. It wasn’t him. Connie relaxed and looked at her watch. It was quarter past ten. A group of Girl Guides gathered together at the base of Nelson’s column and were turning around to face the crowd. If the authorities were planning to entertain them, the man must be right. Churchill wouldn’t be giving his speech for ages yet.

‘Rene!’ A girl’s voice rang out above the noise. ‘Rene Thompson, it’s me, Barbara.’

Rene searched the sea of faces and eventually spotted her friend waving as she came towards her. ‘Barbara Hopkins. Well, as I live and breathe. Fancy seeing you here!’

Laughing, the two girls hugged each other. Barbara, dressed in her WAAF uniform, was thickset with very dark curly hair. The girl with her was dressed in civvies and hung back shyly.

‘I haven’t set eyes on you since our training,’ Rene cried happily and Barbara hugged her again. ‘Oooh, it’s so good to see you.’

They stepped apart and introduced everybody.

‘This is Eva O’Hara,’ said Barbara. Eva was tall but with an almost elfin-like face, and a lot of laughter lines around her eyes. She wore dark slacks and a pale blue hand-knitted jumper.

‘And this is Connie,’ said Rene. ‘We share the same billet.’ The hand shaking was soon over and somehow or other the girls had reached one of the fountains in the middle of the square. The day was warm and the water inviting and while Rene and Barbara caught up with old times, Connie, unable to resist, began to roll up the legs of her slacks. ‘Come on,’ she laughed. ‘Which one of you is game for a paddle?’

After a feeble protest from the others, Eva rolled up the legs of her slacks as well. As she climbed in, a sailor gave her a hand and then he rolled up his trouser legs and stepped in. The water was cold, but not unbearable, and it came just above their knees. The sailor and his mate, who joined them, were taller than Connie and Eva so there was less chance of them getting their clothes wet. The sailors were nice looking lads. One had brown Brylcreemed hair and a ready smile and the other one had fairer hair and slightly bucked teeth. He plonked his cap on Connie’s head as they stood together. The blond one carried a knobbly walking stick and Connie wondered if he had some sort of injury, but she didn’t like to ask. They all had to hold on to each other because the bottom of the fountain was covered in algae and a bit slippery. If they weren’t careful, they’d all be under the water and soaked. The singing grew louder.

‘There’ll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover …’

The two girls swayed with the sailors as they sang and after a few minutes, the sailor’s cap began to push Connie’s rich chestnut-coloured hair out of place. She wore her hair with curls on the top of her head and pulled away from her face. When her comb landed in the water, her hair fell in attractive loose tendrils around her face. The sailor bent to pick the comb up and at the same time spotted a newspaper photographer taking pictures.

‘Here you are, mate’ he called. ‘Two pretty girls and two good looking sailors. What more could you want for the front page?’

The photographer came over and the sailor planted a kiss on Connie’s cheek as the shutter came down. Connie wasn’t offended but she gave him a playful shove before he was tempted to take any more liberties. She didn’t want Emmett or her own mother to see a picture of her kissing someone else on the front page of the paper and despite the improbabilities, she found herself scouring the faces in the crowd.

‘Which paper are you from?’ laughed Eva as the four of them posed again.

‘
Daily Sketch
,’ said the photographer before moving on.

Connie heaved a sigh of relief. None of her family read the
Daily Sketch
and with a bit of luck, her great aunt (they called her Ga) had never even heard of it.

Their legs were getting cold so the four of them climbed out of the water and Connie gave the sailor his cap back. She and Eva only had handkerchiefs to dry their legs but they didn’t care. They held on to each other because in the surging crowd it was difficult to keep a balance on one leg while drying the other. Someone shouted a name, and waving, the two sailors merged back into the crowd.

‘You in the WAAFs as well?’ Connie asked Eva. It seemed very likely considering that her friend Barbara was in uniform.

Eva nodded. ‘And you?’

Connie nodded too.

‘Did you and Rene come on your own?’

‘Actually my boyfriend was meant to be here but he couldn’t come.’

‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’

Connie shook her head. ‘He’s got a sick mother.’

‘I hope it’s not too serious,’ Eva remarked.

Connie shook her head. It was funny that Mrs Gosling always seemed to be ill whenever she and Emmett had something planned but as soon as the thought went through her head, she scolded herself for being so churlish. Nobody could help being ill, could they?

‘No doubt my lot will all be back home and listening to the radio,’ Eva said. ‘My parents are at home and my brother is in the Royal Engineers. He’s still being kept quite busy, and will be for a long time, I’m afraid. He’s in the bomb squad.’

Connie frowned sympathetically. ‘That must be tough on you.’

‘I try not to think about it,’ Eva smiled. ‘What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?’

‘A brother two years older than me,’ said Connie with a sigh, ‘and a little sister called Mandy. She’s just coming up for six.’

‘What about your brother? Is he in the army?’

Connie shook her head and willed her voice not to crack as she said matter-of-factly, ‘We lost touch.’

Eva stopped what she was doing and looked up. ‘I’m sorry.’

Connie looked away, embarrassed. It wasn’t bloody fair. Families should be together, especially at times like this. Her emotions were all over the place. After her scare of a few minutes ago, now she was fighting the urge to cry. She looked around. ‘Have you seen my other shoe?’

Eva shoved it towards her with the end of her foot.

‘Thanks,’ Connie smiled, glad that Eva hadn’t asked any more questions. She looked at her watch. It was still only 11.30 a.m. If they stayed here, they were in for a long wait and it wasn’t as if Churchill would be coming in person. He was only going to speak over the loudspeakers. Connie blew out her cheeks. She was bored. She wanted something more memorable to happen. Something she could tell her children and grandchildren about when she was old and grey.

‘Let’s go to Buckingham Palace,’ she said suddenly.

Barbara looked around helplessly. ‘Where will we get a bus?’

‘We can walk from here,’ said Eva. ‘It’s not that far.’

They pushed their way back through the crowd and when they finally reached the fringes, all four of them struck out for Buckingham Palace. Rene and Barbara linked arms and walked on ahead so Connie walked with Eva. With a lack of anything else to say, they shared their war experiences.

‘So, where do you come from?’ asked Eva dodging a drunk man staggering along the pavement in the opposite direction.

‘Worthing. It’s on the south coast, near Brighton.’

‘Really?’ Eva laughed. ‘How weird. My folks live near there.’

They could hear the sound of a mouth organ playing,
‘When the lights go on again, all over the world …’
and all at once, an American airman grabbed Eva around the waist and waltzed her into the middle of the road. His companion held out a bottle and leaned into Connie’s face. ‘Hey babe, want some beer?’

Laughing, she pushed him away and another serviceman, this time a jolly Jack Tar, danced Connie into the street next to Eva and the two of them spent a hilarious few minutes with their newfound dance partners. As suddenly as they’d grabbed them, the two men hurried off to join their companions, blowing kisses as they went.

‘Where’s Rene?’ said Eva as they came back together, laughing.

Connie shrugged. ‘No idea,’ she said. ‘I can’t see Barbara either.’

They stayed where they were for a few minutes but as there was no sign of either of their friends, Connie and Eva struck out on their own. All the way to the palace, they were craning their necks and calling out occasionally but it was hopeless. The crowd was every bit as big as it had been in Trafalgar Square but thankfully, because the area in The Mall was much bigger, they didn’t feel quite so much like sardines. After a while Connie said, ‘This is stupid. We haven’t a hope of finding them.’

‘I think you’re right,’ said Eva, linking her arm through Connie’s. ‘It’s time to give up and enjoy ourselves.’

‘I second that,’ Connie laughed. She suddenly liked this girl. ‘It’s a pity we never got stationed together. I’ve been in Hendon for a while, after I was re-mustered from Blackpool. Were you ever there?’

‘I was stationed along the south coast mostly,’ said Eva shaking her head. ‘Poling, Ford and Rye. That’s where I met Barbara.’

‘I was hoping to be posted to those places,’ said Connie wistfully.

Eva looked sympathetic. ‘Why? Did you have it bad where you were?’

Connie shrugged. ‘Not really.’ It wasn’t that. ‘It was closer to home, that’s all.’

‘We didn’t have too many bombs,’ said Eva, ‘but we were on the front line for the invasion. They were bombed in Poling just before I got there.’

‘I suppose,’ Connie said with a broad grin, ‘as soon as ol’ Hitler heard you were coming, he pushed off elsewhere.’

Eva chuckled.

‘What do you do in the WAAFs?’ Connie continued.

‘Telephone operator,’ said Eva. ‘Mum seems to think it’ll hold me in good stead when I get demobbed. She says I could join the GPO as a telephonist but I’d much rather join the police or something.’

‘Oh no,’ cried Connie. ‘I can’t wait to get out of uniform. I hate it. All those damned buttons to polish, no thank you!’

Eva chuckled.

‘I mean it,’ Connie said defensively. ‘When I went for training in Blackpool, our billet was so damp that every single one of my buttons was green by the morning and that was even after I’d used the button stick and a duster. I had to polish the darned things up again with my uniform cuffs before parade.’

By now, Eva was laughing heartily.

‘You may well laugh,’ Connie continued, ‘but I was forever getting into trouble. There was a constant film over them.’

‘I trained in Blackpool as well,’ said Eva wiping her eyes. ‘1942. I had the choice of factory work or the WAAFs.’

‘I was there in September 1943,’ Connie said. ‘Blowing half a gale on the seafront, it was.’

‘And if your hat blew off while you were marching, you weren’t allowed to stop and pick it up,’ laughed Eva.

‘Yes, and how daft was that?’ Connie remarked.

‘Did you have old Wingate?’

‘You, that gel over there,’ Connie said mimicking Sgt Wingate, the WAAF officer who presided over new recruits, perfectly. ‘Head up, chhh … est out.’ And they both roared.

‘So, what will you do when you get demobbed?’

‘I want to be a nurse,’ said Connie.