The Girls in Blue (38 page)

‘Shut up, Gil.’ She leaned over to brush his lips with a kiss. ‘I come because I want to see you and I don’t care who knows it.’

‘Just so long as you realise that I won’t hold you to anything.’ He released her hand with a guilty start as a nurse entered the room. ‘Don’t tell me it’s that time already.’

‘It is indeed, Flight Lieutenant Maddern.’

Miranda rose to her feet. ‘I’d better go, but I’ll be back, Gil, and that’s a promise.’

With the approach of autumn and the prospect of harsh winter weather looming ahead, Viv and Joan decided one day that the roof repairs could wait no longer. As there was nobody they could call upon to help, they opted to try their hand at thatching. Joan said that she had a good head for heights and she had been brought up on a farm in East Anglia where she had seen thatchers at work. She was confident that she could do just as well, but when she slipped off the ladder and tumbled several feet
to
the ground there was a moment of panic. She lay groaning in agony, with her right arm bent beneath her and a large bruise on her forehead.

‘You silly cow,’ Viv said crossly. ‘I told you it was dangerous.’

‘My arm,’ Joan murmured, closing her eyes. ‘I think it’s broken.’

‘We ought to get her indoors,’ Rita said, frowning. ‘It’s going to rain any minute.’

Miranda shook her head. ‘We mustn’t move her. She might have hurt her back. You’ll have to cycle to the aerodrome, Rita. She needs an ambulance.’

‘If only we had a telephone.’ Viv stared anxiously at Joan. ‘They’d have a phone at the railway station, wouldn’t they?’

‘Yes, but the aerodrome would be our best bet. I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Rita rushed off to the lean-to where they kept their bicycles and without stopping to get a coat or hat she leapt on the saddle and pedalled off.

Viv clutched her hand to her mouth. ‘I feel sick.’

‘Don’t think about it,’ Miranda said hastily. ‘Go indoors and get a blanket. She should be kept warm or she might go into shock.’

Joan moaned even louder and Viv raced off, disappearing around the corner of the building. Miranda knelt down on the concrete path. ‘You’ll be okay. Hang on, Joan.’

It seemed like an eternity as they waited for the ambulance to arrive but they made Joan as
comfortable
as possible, and Viv insisted on making a pot of tea. Miranda said that Joan ought not to have anything to drink in case she had to be anaesthetised when she reached the hospital. On hearing this Joan started to sob, but Miranda managed to calm her down and Viv drank the tea.

Eventually Rita came clattering round the side of the house, flushed and breathless but obviously very pleased about something. ‘Guess who’s driving the ambulance, Manda?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Is it here?’

‘They’re just getting the stretcher out. It’s old Toopy. He’s a medic now. Would you believe that?’

Miranda could not have cared less if the devil himself was driving the vehicle if it would bring relief to Joan, who was looking alarmingly pale and, even more frightening, had stopped complaining.

Tommy was calm and professional as he examined her. He chatted cheerfully as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be dealing with a young woman who had fallen off a roof, and he gave her something to ease the pain before he and his colleague lifted her onto the stretcher.

‘Well done, Tommy,’ Miranda said as she followed them round to where the ambulance was parked in the lane. ‘But why did they send you? You’re stationed at Bovington, aren’t you? I was expecting the local ambulance to come.’

‘We were the nearest and the best.’ He grinned
down
at her. ‘Anyway, the others were all out on emergencies and we happened to be available.’

‘I’m so glad you were. Poor Joan took a terrible tumble.’

‘She’ll be okay.’

‘You’ve surprised me, Tommy. I didn’t think you had it in you.’

He puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve found my calling. When the war’s over I’m going to be a civilian ambulance driver.’ He leaned over to pat Joan on the shoulder. ‘All right, love. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Hold tight.’

Miranda stood back as they manoeuvred the stretcher into the vehicle. She looked round to see if Viv or Rita wanted to go with Joan but they were nowhere in sight. ‘I’ll come with you, if that’s all right, Tommy.’

‘That’s okay. Hop in.’

Joan had fractured her arm and would be out of action for several weeks until her broken bones knitted together, and this left them short-handed in the repair shop. Miranda found herself promoted or demoted, whichever way she chose to look at it, to take over Joan’s work. It had been Rita’s idea, of course. Rita was always at the forefront when it came to organising the people around her. She knew that Miranda hated clerical work with a passion, and she had somehow manipulated their section leader into thinking that to move Miranda to the
repair
shop had been her decision. Miranda for her part did not argue. Anything, she thought, would be better than filing and filling out requisitions all day, and she did not mind getting her hands dirty. It was all a means to an end, and even when Joan was fit to return to duty after Christmas, Miranda opted to stay where she was and Joan was given clerical duties.

Whenever she had some free time Miranda cycled to Highcliffe. Dickens seemed to sense her imminent arrival and he would amble somewhat arthritically along the garden path to greet her, arching his back and purring loudly as he nuzzled her hand when she bent down to stroke him. She felt a sense of calm descending upon her as she gazed up at the old house. It was as ugly as ever and its paint might be peeling and its brickwork needed pointing, but it was still standing alone and defiant on the cliff top as if offering a challenge to the enemy.

She had the comfort of knowing that despite the traumas of war, nothing much would have changed at home. Her grandparents, with characteristic stoicism, were still doing their bit for the war effort. Her grandfather was still heavily involved in the Home Guard, and despite his advancing years he was a fine figure of a man. Miranda thought how distinguished he looked in uniform, and when he enveloped her in a great bear hug she felt like a child again, safe and secure. The clean spicy scent
of
him lingered long after they parted and she knew that this was how she would always remember him, even when she was an old woman, if she survived that long. She tried not to think too far into the future and took comfort from her time spent with her grandmother, timing her visits so that she caught her in between shifts at the WVS canteen.

On one such visit they had been sitting on the veranda enjoying the spring sunshine when the sky clouded over and a cool breeze tugged at their clothes and hair. Maggie shivered. ‘Let’s go indoors.’ She stood up, displacing Dickens who had been snoozing on her lap. He gave her a baleful look and leapt back on the seat, curling his tail around himself and closing his eyes. ‘Stubborn animal,’ Maggie said fondly. She opened the French windows. ‘Come inside, Miranda. We’ll have tea before you go back to your wretched hovel.’

Miranda followed her indoors. ‘Is Dickens all right out there, Granny? I mean he’s getting old now.’

‘Aren’t we all?’ Maggie moved to an armchair and sat down. ‘We’ll have some cake if there’s any left. I’ve been entertaining some of the young American soldiers who are stationed close to town. They’re good company, but they eat us out of house and home.’

‘There are Americans at Warmwell too.’

‘They’re charming boys and so far from their homeland. I feel the least I can do is invite some of them to Sunday lunch every week.’

‘That’s very kind of you, Granny.’

‘They don’t seem to mind what they eat, even if it’s only meat loaf or Woolton pie. Or perhaps they’re simply too polite to complain. Annie grumbles, of course, but they sweet-talk her and she absolutely loves it. I’ll really miss them when they eventually return home.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Will you go and see what’s keeping Annie? She should have brought the tea tray by now. I’m afraid she’s getting quite slow these days, but then we’re all getting older.’

Miranda leaned over the chair and kissed her grandmother’s lined cheek. ‘You’ll never be old, Granny. You’ll live to be a hundred and still be beautiful.’

‘Flatterer.’ Maggie shooed her away, but she was smiling.

Miranda found Annie sitting at the kitchen table. She gave a guilty start as the door opened, covering whatever it was she had been munching with her hands. She relaxed visibly when she saw Miranda. ‘I thought it was Mrs B,’ she said, lifting her hand to reveal a Hershey bar. ‘The American GIs give them to me, only your gran doesn’t approve. She says I shouldn’t take things from them when it’s their rations.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Annie. I’m sure they can spare a bar of chocolate or two. Anyway, if you refused it might offend them.’

‘Quite right.’ Annie stuffed the last piece of
chocolate
into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. ‘I have to eat them here because Elzevir has a sweet tooth. If I took them home that would be the last I ever saw of my candy.’ She licked her lips, smiling. ‘That’s what the Yankees call it. They don’t say sweets like we do.’

‘Granny sent me to remind you about tea.’

‘They’re such polite young men, Miranda. They thank me very nicely and call me ma’am. One of them gave me some nylon stockings as well as the chocolate. Not that I wear such things; lisle is quite good enough for me. I gave them to my young niece.’

‘And I’m sure she was very pleased,’ Miranda said patiently. ‘Shall I put the kettle on, or will you?’

Annie inclined her head graciously. ‘I’ll do it. You’re a guest, Miranda. Go and chat to Mrs B and think yourself lucky that there aren’t any of her rocks to eat. What with rationing and feeding the whole of the American army, we don’t get a chance to eat cake ourselves.’

‘But you have your Hershey bars,’ Miranda said, chuckling. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell Granny.’ She left Annie to make the tea and made her way back to the drawing room.

‘What are you grinning at?’ Maggie demanded. ‘Where’s my tea?’

‘It’s coming. Annie was just waiting for the kettle to boil.’ Avoiding her grandmother’s suspicious gaze, Miranda resumed her seat.

‘She’s up to something, Miranda. That woman will be the death of me.’

‘You don’t mean that, Granny. You’d be lost without her.’

‘Hmm.’ Maggie tossed her head. ‘I doubt that. Anyway, tell me about that young man of yours. Mad Bull, or whatever he’s called.’

‘His call sign was Mad Dog, and his name is Gilbert Maddern – Gil for short.’

‘Well, dear, no one’s perfect. Anyway, how is he? Is his mother still playing up? I could always have a word with her.’

‘I think she’s rather given up, Granny. I visit Gil in the hospital whenever I can, and we write to each other almost every day. He’s doing very well now and the doctors say he’ll walk again.’

‘I like the sound of him much better than Raif Carstairs.’

‘He’s still missing and I don’t think there’s much hope of ever finding out what happened to him.’ Miranda stared down at her tightly clasped hands.

‘It’s just as well, Miranda. Raif was too much like his father. Max Carstairs nearly wrecked my life and I wouldn’t want to see history repeating itself.’

‘It won’t, Granny.’

‘I should hope not. It’s bad enough knowing that your mother is risking hers by spying on the Germans without you falling for someone who would break your heart.’

‘I haven’t heard anything from Maman,’ Miranda said, biting her lip. ‘I try not to think about the awful risks she’s taking in France. I wish I could talk to someone in authority and find out if she’s safe.’

Maggie took a hanky from her pocket and handed it to her. ‘Don’t start blubbing, Miranda. You’ll start me off.’

Miranda dabbed her eyes. ‘Sorry.’

‘And don’t apologise. Actually there is some news of her. Your grandfather has been in touch with an old army chum in the War Office.’

‘What did he say?’ Miranda leapt to her feet. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

‘I didn’t want to raise your hopes in case it all went terribly wrong. Apparently she’s been in Paris all this time, but now there’s talk about bringing her home.’

‘But that’s wonderful.’

Maggie shook her head, frowning. ‘It is, of course, but she isn’t out of danger yet. Your grandfather didn’t want me to tell you until we were absolutely certain, and now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.’

‘I’m not a little girl now, Granny. I’m very glad you told me. I was beginning to think I’d never see her again, but you’ve given me fresh hope.’ Miranda glanced over her shoulder as the door was pushed open and Annie marched in carrying a tray of tea. ‘Have you heard the news, Annie? My mother is coming home.’

‘That’s nice.’ Annie placed the tray on the table
near
Maggie’s chair. ‘I found some biscuits at the bottom of the tin.’

Maggie glared at her. ‘You’ve been eating chocolate. It’s all round your mouth.’

‘So what?’ Annie demanded, wiping her hand across her lips. ‘It was given to me by that nice young private, Joe Wysocki. At least someone appreciates me.’ She tossed her head and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

‘One day she’ll go too far,’ Maggie said, reaching for a biscuit. ‘She knows I like chocolate.’

Miranda smiled to herself as she sat down to pour the tea. Nothing ever changed at Highcliffe.

An hour later she rode back to Warmwell feeling much happier than she had for a long time. It was dark when she arrived at the castle and there was an army ambulance parked in the yard. She did not think anything of it as she stowed her bicycle in the lean-to as Tommy had taken to visiting on a regular basis. She had thought at first that he had renewed his interest in Rita, but then she realised that it was Joan who had caught his eye, and that the feeling was mutual. Viv and Rita teased them mercilessly but Tommy parried their comments with his usual good humour, and Joan simply shrugged and told them to mind their own business.

Miranda hurried inside, shutting the door to keep to the strict blackout regulations that applied even in such an isolated spot. She had been about to tell them her good news but everyone had stopped
talking
. ‘What’s the matter?’ she demanded. ‘Why are you all staring at me?’