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Dear Auntie Mim,
This is to let you know my new address so you can write to me. I think I will be here for some time; wouldn’t mind being here for the duration, it is so nice. Just three of us in a billet like a doll’s house. I’ll write more, later. Please write back to me, soon.
Love, Nan X X
‘Well, that’s mine written.’ She laid the envelope on the windowsill. ‘Think I’ll have a bit of a walk, till youse two have finished.’
Remembering to put on her cap she walked down the front path, taking deep breaths of air, marvelling at her luck, and though she had not grasped just what she would be doing here, she was content to be part of a set-up that was as different as could be from the barracks she had reported to, and the just as awful teleprinter training school. All bull it had been, and everything at the double.
Here, it was as if life had slowed down now the hectic weeks of her training were over, though not even in her dreams had she thought to be sent to such a place.
The gateposts either side of the drive that led to Heronflete were ornately patterned in stone and there had obviously been gates there. Probably, Nan thought, taken away to be melted down for war weapons, like gates and railings all over the country. The government in London took anything they wanted; for the war effort, they said, and if you told them it wasn’t on, they took not one blind bit of notice, and accused you of being unpatriotic!
She thought about the lord, and if he had been a bit miffed when the War Office took his house and all the estate, and it made her wonder what had happened to the workers and the farmers and their animals, because they had had to get out, too.
A funny old war, you had to admit, but she was glad she had joined it and met up with Evie and Carrie, though Sergeant James was a bit of a martinet, Nan brooded.
She gazed up a wide driveway with oak trees on either side and which turned abruptly to the left about two hundred yards on. Round that bend she might be able to see Heronflete, even though one big, empty house was probably the same as another. It intrigued her, though, for the simple reason that they had been told it was none of their business, though if it were none of their business, why was she and four others – and the sergeant an’ all – here in the first place?
The gravel of the drive crunched beneath her feet so she stepped onto the verge, walking slowly, carefully. The grass was damp with evening dew, and long. Probably because there were no gardeners now, to cut it. Must have upset a lot of people, having to pack up and find somewhere else to live. Not fair, really, but what was fair, when you thought, about a war?
She reached the curve in the drive and crouched in the shelter of the trees. Just a quick peep. See what all the mystery was about.
‘You there! Halt!’ yelled a voice behind her.
She swung round, gasping at the sight of a soldier holding a rifle, and though he wasn’t pointing it at her, she was all at once afraid.
‘What are you doing here, then? What’s your name, girl?’
‘304848 Morrissey N,’ she gasped, eyes wide. ‘Didn’t mean to intrude. Was getting a bit of country air.’
‘All right. I believe you. But somebody ought to have told you that up here is out of bounds.’
He jabbed a forefinger at a red and white barrier and the sentry boxes either side of it.
‘I’m sorry. You won’t say nuthin’ to Sergeant James, will you? I’ll be in dead trouble if you do.’ Nan fixed him with a wide-eyed stare.
‘Is that what she’s called? Her that goes around thinking she can give orders, you mean? Face that’d crack, if she smiled?’
‘That sounds exactly like our sergeant,’ Nan breathed. ‘I don’t want to land myself in trouble, first day here. You’ll not tell on me? I won’t ever come up here again.’
‘You can come up this drive, but only if you have a pass saying it’s all right, ’cause you’ll have to get past me and my mate over there, and we’re very particular who we let in! Now on yer way, girlie, and don’t try it on again without permission or you’ll be on a charge – see?’
‘Yes. Much obliged, I’m sure.’
Nan turned and ran, not caring about the noisy gravel, still shocked by the sentry, and his gun.
‘Hey, you two!’ She burst breathless into the lodge. ‘Up that drive! There’s sentry boxes and soldiers and one of them copped me, peepin’ through the trees. Came up behind me with a gun, and -’
‘Nan, you idiot! Weren’t we told it was none of our business? Now you’ll be in trouble.’
‘No I won’t, Evie. He said he wouldn’t tell on me – this time. An’ he said you can get up there, but only if you have a pass.’
‘So did you get a look at the place?’ Evie asked.
‘No, I didn’t, and I’m not trying it on again. I didn’t expect to get caught but they’re there, where the drive turns suddenly. Barrier across it, an’ all.’
‘Then it must be very secret if they’ve got guards there.’ Carrie folded the single sheet of notepaper and tucked it into an envelope addressed to Jackmans Cottage. ‘I’ve finished, now. Just quick notes to mother and Jeffrey. Maybe I’ll come with you to the post. You finished, Evie?’
‘Mm. Just the envelope to see to…’
My darling,
To let you know my new address and to tell you that I love you, love you, love you. I’ll write, tomorrow, to explain in great and loving detail just how much, and how desperately I miss you and want you.
Take care, Bob. You are so precious to me.
She printed the PO address on the back of the envelope then, placing it to her lips, gave it to Nan.
‘Bless you, love. I won’t be long from my bed. And I’m not hiking to the ablutions, either. I’ll make do with a quick wash at the kitchen tap and a walk down the garden. Don’t be too long, will you – just in case the sergeant decides to check up on us.’
‘I’m going to like Evie,’ Carrie said as they took the right turning to where the cluster of buildings stood. ‘Poor love. Just seven days of being married, then heaven only knows when they’ll see each other again.’
‘So when are you getting married, Carrie?’
‘Don’t ask! I’m already in trouble for not setting a date for the wedding.’
‘So why don’t you want to get married? And why aren’t you wearing your ring? Have you and your feller had a nark, or sumthin’?’
‘N-no. It’s just that everybody seems to be pressuring me into it, and I want a bit of breathing space.’
‘Why?’ Nan could think of nothing nicer than being married to a man who was decent enough to buy a ring, and make things official. ‘I’d like to be married – when I’m a bit older, I mean.’
‘And I want to marry Jeffrey, but when I want to. And I want to be one hundred per cent sure.’
‘And you aren’t?’ Nan sensed drama.
‘No. About ninety-five per cent, I’d say.’
She wished she could tell Nan why; that she was unsure about the really-being-married side of things, and that Jeffrey hadn’t been very considerate when that happened. But Nan was little more than a child. Hardly eighteen, if looks were anything to go by. It wouldn’t be right to talk about that to her. Mind, she had the most beautiful come-to-bed eyes, though she didn’t seem aware of it; eyes that could get an innocent like Nan into trouble, if she wasn’t careful.
‘Then you’re nearly there, wouldn’t you say,’ Nan laughed.
‘Almost. Jeffrey’s next leave, perhaps. Isn’t this the most beautiful evening?’ Time to talk of other things! ‘If we weren’t in uniform, we could be forgiven for thinking that there isn’t a war on at all, out there.’
‘Ar,’ Nan sighed, completely captivated. ‘Wouldn’t mind stoppin’ for ever.’
Here, in a place almost hidden from sight or sound of war, was a different life. Here, there would be no wailing sirens to send fear shivering through her; no crowded, sweaty air-raid shelters nor whole streets blasted into rubble. And no hospitals bombed.
Here, Nan Morrissey was as good as anyone else; her uniform saw to that. Here, no one seemed to worry about her accent nor the way her Liverpool bluntness might be misconstrued as rudeness. This set-up that seemed to baffle even Sergeant James was the right and proper place for her to be. It seemed, on this evening in late August, that Nan Morrissey had truly come home.
‘Ar,’ she sighed again. ‘Just wish me dad could see me now. He’d be made up for me, God love him.’
‘I’d like to think mine could see me, too. I never knew him, y’know.’
‘Last war was it, Carrie?’
‘Mm. He was badly hurt but it wasn’t his wounds he died of. It was the mustard gas, really. A slow death, it must have been. God! I hope they never use it this time around.’
‘Fighting dirty, poison gas is. Do you think them bods in Heronflete are up to something like that? Secret weapons, and that kind of thing?’
‘Back-room boys and boffins, you mean?
‘Dunno. But they’re up to sumthin’ or why all the mystery? You don’t need soldiers to guard nuthin’.’
‘They’ll tell us, perhaps – or maybe we’ll figure it out for ourselves. And it looks like Evie has fallen asleep and left her light on.’ Carrie nodded in the direction of Southgate Lodge. ‘Reckon we’d better see to the blackout, or Sergeant James’ll be down on us like a ton of bricks.’
The lance-corporal had not fallen asleep. She lay on her bed in blue and white striped pyjamas, writing pad in hand.
‘Hey up, Evie.’ Nan made for the window. ‘Time them curtains was drawn.’
‘Sorry. Got carried away, writing to Bob. Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d write again – tell him about this new posting. What time is it?’
‘Still not quite blackout time,’ Carrie smiled. ‘And I’ve drawn all the other curtains. Couldn’t you sleep, Evie, or were you waiting for us to get back?’
‘No. Just got past it, I suppose. Posted the letters?’
‘We did,’ Nan beamed. ‘There was hardly anybody in the NAAFI – just a few soldiers, playing cards. And had you thought – we’re going to need cleaning gear. Better ask the sergeant for a chitty so we can get a brush and mop and things from stores – keep Southgate nice an’ tidy, so she can’t moan at us.’
‘I’ll see to it, tomorrow.’ Evie placed the cap on her fountain pen. ‘Y’know, this pen was Bob’s. It’s a good one and he didn’t want to take it with him when he went. Said I was to have it. I write all his letters with it. And oh,’ She closed her eyes tightly against tears. ‘I do miss him.’
‘Hey, old love, you’d be a very peculiar wife if you didn’t.’ Carrie took Evie’s hands in her own, holding them tightly. ‘And if talking about Bob helps, we’ll be glad to listen, won’t we Nan?’
‘Course we will. And we’ll send nasty thoughts to Hitler and that fat old Goering.’ Especially Goering, because it was him sent the bombers to Liverpool; his fault dad was dead.
‘Sorry,’ Evie sniffed, dabbing her eyes, forcing a smile. ‘You’ll know how it is, Carrie.’
‘Yes. Lousy…’
But was it all that bad? Had Carrie Tiptree ever been reduced to tears, just to think that Jeffrey had gone to war? Sad, granted, but never the obvious pain Evie felt.
Yet it was different for Evie and her Bob. They were husband and wife. Lovers. And that loving was good, it was plain to see by the softness in her eyes when she spoke about him. And Carrie knew when she was thinking about him, too. Perhaps Evie wasn’t aware of it, but she often fondled her wedding ring with her fingertips. Carrie Tiptree’s ring hung with the identity disc around her neck.
Mind, she was fond of Jeffrey – always had been. They’d grown up in the same village, for heaven’s sake, and she knew almost all there was to know about him. No one would be able to say theirs was a hasty marriage.
She shrugged and began to undress. She would get into her pyjamas, clean her teeth and splash her face at the kitchen sink. Then go to bed, even if she lay awake for ages.
And she would lie awake, thinking about Jackmans and her mother and Jeffrey, too, because she had let them both down if she were to be completely honest. Her mother had given a little moan, then burst into sobs when told her daughter had had a medical and been accepted by the ATS, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, now.
Carrie remembered that night in vivid detail. A vase of roses on the little table beneath the window, petals reflected pink against the dark wood. An old copper jamming pan, placed on the hearth in the ingle fireplace, full of greenery. The soft armchairs, none of them matching. The fat cushions, made by her mother from remnants of bright material. She even remembered gazing at the ink stain they hadn’t quite been able to remove from the hearthrug.
He mother had gone very pale, then moaned softly, a bewildered look on her face. Carrie thought she would faint, but then she had gasped,
‘Oh, Carrie – such deceit. How could you? Why did you do it? I don’t understand.’
Her distress had been genuine. Carrie laid an arm around her shoulders, but her mother had shrugged it off.
‘You forged my signature, didn’t you, on the form?’
‘Yes, I did…’
‘Then I shall tell them about it; that it’s all been a mistake and you won’t have to go!’
‘It would be a waste of time, mother. I’ll be twenty-one long before it’s sorted.’ Carrie’s distress had been genuine, too.
‘So tell me, Caroline, just what happened to make you do such a foolish thing, and to be so underhanded about it, too.’
‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t. It was everything in general, sort of, and nothing in particular.’
Which was true, Carrie supposed, even though she had felt vague unease for a long time about the way her life was. And as for nothing in particular – she knew exactly what it was; the instinctive need to get away and have time to think; make sure that what her mother and Jeffrey’s mother wanted was what she, Carrie, wanted too. The doubts first surfaced the night her mother had gone out to play whist, there was no denying it.
‘You are all I have in the whole world, Carrie. Your place is at home, with me. And what am I to tell the village?’
‘I don’t think it’s anything to do with them. It’s between you and me and – and Jeffrey, I suppose…’
‘Then tell me what I am to say to Ethel Frobisher? How will I be able to look her in the face?’
‘You won’t have to. I’ll tell Jeffrey’s mother. And as for the wedding – well, nothing was planned exactly.’
‘No, but it was understood, I would have thought, the day Jeffrey gave you an engagement ring. Weddings usually follow, you know. And I don’t feel at all well.’
She hadn’t looked so good, Carrie recalled. That evening, there was genuine need for aspirin and a hot drink and it had been awful, afterwards, to lie awake, listening to her mother’s sobs.
‘Won’t be a minute.’ Carrie cleared her head of thoughts, making for the kitchen. And when she came back she said,
‘Put your slippers on, Nan. That stone floor is cold! And I’ll set the alarm for seven – that all right with you, Evie?’
And Evie said it was, but would they mind if she closed her bedroom door, and they said it was fine by them. After all, she did have a stripe up!
They didn’t talk, though. Nan curled up in her bed like a contented puppy and was quickly asleep. Which left Carrie to wonder about what was to come and when she and Jeffrey would be able to arrange leaves to allow a wedding – because they would get married, she was as sure of it as she could be. Yet only when she had laid out her thoughts and doubts, and only when Jeffrey had truly understood and promised to talk about things, so that everything would come right for them. Then Caroline Tiptree – Frobisher - would have Evie’s look of love in her eyes, too, when she spoke of her sailor husband.
She thumped her pillow peevishly, then settled down to listen to the night sounds because she knew sleep would not come easily. It never did, when you were desperately tired and in need of it.
She tried to think of Jeffrey, still in Plymouth barracks waiting for a draft to a ship, but could not, so instead she turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, telling herself that tomorrow was another day, a bright new start to her life as W/462523 Tiptree C. because that was who she was, now, for as long as the war lasted. A name and number.
Yet instead she sighed deeply and tried hard not to think of Jackmans Cottage and her bedroom with the sloping roof and tiny window – and the pigeon that nested in the tree in the lane outside and made a terrible noise as soon as daylight came.
A tear slipped from her eye and trickled down her cheek and into her ear. It made her annoyed to realize it was the first she had shed since leaving home almost two months ago.
