As Time Goes By Page 7

  It had been a long night, and in twelve hours’ time she would be singing at the Grafton, Sally reminded herself tiredly, as she let herself into the house, bustling her two sons, just up from their beds at Doris Brookes’s, inside in front of her whilst she yawned into the early morning air. There was a small folded slightly grubby piece of paper on the hall floor. She stared at it tiredly for several seconds before finally bending to pick it up. It would probably just be a note from one of her neighbours about the birthday party she was planning, but her hands trembled as she opened it. After all, no neighbour was going to waste precious paper writing a note when they could just as easily call in, or leave a message with Doris.

  The note was brief, the writing an untidy scrawl: ‘Got a message for yer from the Boss. Be in tomorrow dinner.’

  Sally could feel the clammy sickness gripping her insides. She felt icy cold with fear and yet at the same time her face was burning with heat.

  ‘Cor, Mum, our Harry needs his nappy changing,’ Tommy protested, wrinkling up his nose, forcing her to try to conquer the fear that reading the note had brought her so that she could concentrate on her sons. They must never ever know this fear that terrified her. They must not grow up in the shadow of their father’s debts. She had to be strong for them, she had to protect them from that. She pushed the note into her pocket and forced her lips into a painful smile.

  Her boys, her sons – she loved them so much. And their father – did she still love him too? Sally buried her face in the warmth of her baby son’s neck as she tried to bury she guilt she was feeling. What sort of daft question was that? How could she not love him? Ronnie was her husband, they were married, and he was a POW held captive by the Japs.

  SIX

  Sam exhaled slowly, pausing to check behind her before straightening up from the agonised position she had assumed in the dining room, gripping her stomach and doubling over as though in pain whilst complaining that her stomach felt too bad for her to eat any breakfast.

  ‘Got yer monthlies, have yer, love?’ one of the women serving up the food had asked her sympathetically, unwittingly aiding her deceit. ‘A nice cup of tea and a lie-down with a hot-water bottle is what you want.’

  When Sam had made her exit from the room under the grim unblinking stare of the warrant officer, she had told herself that her lack of sympathy would make her own victory in retrieving Mouse’s bear all the sweeter. Poor Mouse. She looked so miserable, her face all blotchy from her tears. The other recruits had all seen the way she had visibly flinched when they had walked in past the warrant officer.

  Toadie had a good appetite, and since she wouldn’t sit down to eat until she had made sure all the girls were up and in the dining room, Sam reckoned she had plenty of time to achieve her mission and get back to the dorm without being found out – providing there was no one around by the front door to see her.

  That was the part of her plan that had kept her awake last night. With no chance of doing a recce beforehand, she would have to trust to her own memory and the breakfast routine of the billet.

  Toadie was bound to want to be downstairs ready to pounce on them as they left on the buses for work, which meant that she probably had a maximum of twenty minutes in which to get the bear – providing the cubbyhole wasn’t locked.

  As she had hoped, the hallway was deserted, the front doors closed. Sam found that she was holding her breath. The cubbyhole door was closed. And locked? There was only one way she was going to find out.

  Quickly looking over her shoulder to check that there was no one around, Sam slipped behind the reception desk and headed for the door. If the captain was in her office and heard or saw her, she would have to come up with a pretty good excuse for being here. Her mouth had gone dry. Her heart was pounding with the kind of reckless excitement she could remember from her childhood forays into Russell’s often booby-trapped room. Hopefully Toadie would not have rigged up a bag of flour to empty itself on her head if she tried to open the door, as Russell might have done. A small bubble of laughter formed in her throat. The warrant officer waste precious flour – of course she wouldn’t. But she could inflict far more serious reprisals on her than Russell, Sam reminded herself, if she should be caught.

  But she wasn’t going to be caught. She reached for the door handle, turning it carefully and exhaling in relief when the door opened.

  At least once she was inside she could close the door so that she couldn’t be seen. And be caught red-handed if she had got her estimates wrong and Toadie appeared.

  The small room smelled of stale sweat and cigarette smoke. Sam wrinkled her nose in distaste. The shelves lining the walls were unexpectedly untidy, jammed with papers and books as well as various items that looked as though, like Mouse’s bear, they had been confiscated. The bear! Where was it? It should be easy enough to find. Sam scanned the shelves intently, frowning when she couldn’t see it. It must be here. It had to be. She looked at her watch. Fifteen minute since she had left the dining room – which meant she had only five minutes left at most.

  She looked down at the small desk pushed back against the shelves and then stiffened as she saw the telltale pieces of golden fur on the floor besides a wastepaper bin. Sam picked up the bin. Pieces of fur fabric and kapok filled the bottom of it. She could see one beady brown eye staring up at her. To her own astonishment she could feel her own eyes starting to sting with tears. She reached down into the bin, her hand shaking slightly as she gently turned the eye into the fabric. Poor, poor bear and poor, poor Mouse. She must never know about this. Hazel had been right to say that the warrant officer was sadistic. She must have known what destroying her bear would do to Mouse.

  Shakily she put down the bin and opened the door. The hallway was still empty. She stepped out of the room, closing the door.

  She was halfway across the hall when a girl she didn’t know appeared at the top of the stairs.

  As she headed for them herself Sam said as nonchalantly as she could, ‘I thought I’d try and get some fresh air but the front door doesn’t seem to be open.’

  ‘No, it won’t be yet,’ the other girl replied ‘The warrant officer should be on her way down to open it, though, if you want to wait …’

  Waiting for the warrant officer was the last thing Sam wanted to do but the other girl seemed to be standing in her way. Deliberately?

  Sam raised her hand to her mouth and made a small choking sound, keeping her head down as she whispered, ‘I’m sorry … please excuse me. I need the bathroom,’ and dived past her. Her nausea wasn’t faked either. She was still in shock from seeing that poor bear.

  ‘Toadie’s bin looking for you,’ May warned her, coming out of the dorm as Sam headed in. ‘Corp told her that you was in the lavvy throwing up.’ Sam opened the dormitory door. Hazel’s crisply businesslike, ‘Feeling any better, Grey?’ warned Sam of the warrant officer’s presence before she saw her standing in the shadows.

  ‘Sorry about that, Corp,’ she apologised. ‘It must have been something I ate. I’ll feel better once I’ve had a bit of fresh air,’ she added, remembering the girl on the stairs.

  ‘Private Hatton isn’t very well either. In fact she’s seeing the MO now,’ Hazel informed her in a neutral voice. ‘I dare say it must have been something you ate when you were working together yesterday.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sam agreed quickly. ‘I did think that sandwich we bought in the Naafi smelled a bit off.’

  ‘Has anyone seen the warrant officer, only the captain’s asking for her?’ a breathless voice called out urgently from outside the dormitory, causing Sam and Hazel to exchange looks of relief.

  ‘What is wrong with Mouse?’ Sam asked Hazel as soon as she was sure the warrant officer was out of earshot.

  ‘I don’t know. Toadie tried to force her to eat her breakfast. She was goading her, asking her if she didn’t want to eat because Teddy wasn’t there. Mouse was white as a sheet. She tried to force down a couple of mouthfuls, but then she passed out in a
dead faint. If you ask me the MO is going to send her home, and to be honest it would probably be for the best.’

  ‘If he does, she’ll have to go without her bear,’ Sam told her, colouring up when she saw the look Hazel was giving her.

  ‘I’m your corporal, don’t forget,’ she warned Sam firmly. ‘And—’

  ‘Toadie’s cut it up – the bear.’ Sam was unable to hold back the words. They rushed out, filled with her own disbelief and disgust. Fresh tears burned the backs of her eyes. ‘How could she do something so rotten? She must know …’

  She could feel Hazel’s fingers fastening round her arm as she gave her a small firm shake, and told her quietly, ‘I know you’re upset but it doesn’t do to show it. Better to get a grip.’ She waited a few seconds whilst Sam struggled to bring her emotions under control and then said approvingly, ‘Good show. Now come on, we’d better get on that bus before Toadie comes back up.’

  ‘What about Mouse?’ Sam protested. ‘Shouldn’t we wait in case—’

  ‘We can’t do anything for her right now. Let’s hope that the MO has pronounced her unfit to serve, because if he hasn’t, Toadie is going to make her life hell. It was the captain who called the MO when she saw Mouse faint. Toadie won’t like that and she’ll make Mouse pay for it.’

  ‘Where’s your mate today?’

  Sam had been so busy checking off the items on the shelves that she hadn’t seen the nice fair-haired sergeant, and the sound of his voice made her colour up self-consciously. Not that she was imagining anything silly, like hoping he might have deliberately sought her out. She wasn’t that daft, was she? No, of course she wasn’t, she reassured herself. He was just being pleasant, that was all, and she had better not go making a fool of herself thinking any different, nor let on to anyone else that she was actually thinking of how she wouldn’t have minded one little bit if he had been.

  ‘She isn’t very well,’ she told him. ‘She isn’t really cut out for war work, at least not in the services. There was a bit of an upset last night.’

  He looked and sounded so sympathetic that she was tempted to confide in him, but just in time she reminded herself of their respective professional roles. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear about any of this,’ she apologised. He probably thought she was as soppy as Mouse.

  ‘It isn’t easy settling down into service life,’ he told her with a kind smile that made her think all over again how really nice he was. ‘And it’s easy for those of us who have already done it to forget how grateful we ought to be to you girls for what you’re doing.’

  His praise made Sam glow with pride and pleasure.

  ‘I’d like to do more,’ she told him enthusiastically. ‘The girls I trained with are on their way to Egypt now. When I joined up I expected to be doing something exciting and worthwhile, and instead I’m stuck here doing a dull boring job with dull boring people.’ She gave a small sigh and then flushed as she realised what she had said. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean you, it’s just that …’

  To her relief he was laughing. ‘I know what you meant and it must seem hard to have missed out on going with your pals, but the work we’re doing here is every bit as important as all the exciting stuff.’

  Sam grimaced.

  ‘It’s true,’ he insisted. ‘The chap who flies the plane that bombs the enemy is a hero but he couldn’t do it if someone somewhere hadn’t made sure that he had everything he needed for his mission, could he?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Sam agreed grudgingly.

  ‘You see, the way I see it is that we’re all part of a team, working together to beat Hitler, and a good team is only as strong as its weakest link.’

  What he was saying made sense and it also lifted her spirits – or was he the reason they had lifted rather than what he had said, Sam wondered a bit giddily, as somehow without intending to she took a couple of steps towards him.

  ‘Sorry to butt in but if one of you …’

  Sam had been so totally wrapped up in their conversation that she hadn’t realised that they weren’t on their own any more. She started to turn away and then froze as the other man stepped into the light and she was able to see him properly.

  Even without the uniform she would have recognised him. Those dangerously handsome features of his were printed on her memory for all time.

  ‘Johnny!’ she could hear the sergeant exclaiming in a pleased voice. ‘Private Grey, let me introduce you to Sergeant Everton, and I warn you, you’re going to need to keep your guard up against him,’ giving her an almost paternally protective look, which caused her face to burn.

  Sam could well imagine the derision there would be in those dark eyes at the thought of her being in any danger from him. Sergeant Brookes, of course, was far too kind and nice to think that a girl like her was simply not the sort to attract a man like Sergeant Everton – ‘Johnny’, as he had called the other man.

  ‘If you don’t,’ Sergeant Brookes was continuing with a grin, ‘he’ll have these shelves stripped of whatever he and his team need without leaving you any paperwork to show for it. Johnny, let me introduce you to our new recruit—’

  ‘Private Grey and I have already met,’ he informed the sergeant in a coldly hostile voice.

  Sergeant Brookes looked at Sam and then back at his friend, one eyebrow arching in mute enquiry.

  ‘I lost my way and accidentally walked up a street with a UXB in it,’ Sam told him unsteadily.

  Was Sergeant Everton going to give her away and say that it had not been an accident? Before she could find out, a transport truck, pulled into the yard. Sergeant Brookes apologised to them both. ‘I’ve got to go, but remember, Sam, don’t let this chap sweet-talk you.’

  Silently Sam watched Sergeant Brookes stride away, wishing that the other man had gone with him.

  ‘You know that he’s a married man, and that his wife’s having a baby, don’t you, Sam?’

  The sharp words made her face sting. ‘No, I didn’t,’ she answered without turning round. How dreadful she felt now about thinking earlier that she wouldn’t have minded if Sergeant Brookes had shown an interest in her. She stood up straight and announced firmly, ‘Because there’s no reason why I should know.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? That wasn’t the impression I got when I walked in here.’

  ‘We were just talking, that’s all,’ Sam defended herself.

  ‘Frank may have been just talking, but you were looking at him like a moonstruck kid.’

  For a few seconds she was too shocked to respond. Was that really how she had been behaving, like a silly girl on the verge of starting a crush? That wasn’t how she wanted to think of herself at all and it certainly wasn’t how she wanted others to think of her. She felt mortified. But she was determined to defend herself, despite her humiliation.

  ‘That’s not true,’ she denied ‘And you have no right—’

  ‘Mind you, Molly won’t need to worry about any competition,’ he cut her off forthrightly. ‘Frank’d be a fool to risk losing her. Sam. Huh! What kind of a name is that for a girl, anyway?’

  ‘The kind I happen to like,’ Sam told him fiercely. She could see Captain Elland marching towards the hangar, in that stiff-kneed way he had, bristling with the irritation and impatience poor Mouse dreaded so much. If anyone had told her yesterday that she’d ever feel glad to see him she would have called them a liar, but then yesterday she hadn’t realised that she was going to be brought slap-bang up against this man again.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ the captain demanded sharply. ‘You’re supposed to be checking off goods, not lolling around talking to the men. Bloody women in uniform … waste of time …’

  To be accused of flirtatious behaviour with two different men in the space of ten minutes would be enough to make any girl feel like defending herself, Sam thought as she struggled to suppress the hot words burning her tongue.

  Sam looked unenthusiastically at her lunchtime sandwiches. Tomato with a thin scraping of something that was
supposed to be butter.

  So Sergeant Brookes was married. Well, that was nothing to her, was it? Of course it wasn’t. But suddenly she had lost her appetite – because of the way Sergeant Everton had spoken to her and the way he had made her feel, not because she was disappointed that Sergeant Brookes was married. What rotten bad luck it had been that she had had to bump into him again. Johnny … Sergeant Everton, she corrected herself quickly. She would take a bet that he wasn’t married. No sane woman would be foolish enough to want to marry a man like that. It would be far too much of a risk – and not just because of his work.

  Even though she had been waiting for it ever since she had read the note, when the knock on the door finally came, Sally felt a shock as powerfully as if it had been an air-raid warning.

  Thankfully Molly had called round and offered to take the boys down to the allotments with her, so at least she didn’t have to worry about them being here.

  When she opened the door, she was aware that her neighbour across the road was peering out from behind her curtains.

  ‘I’ve told you before, I don’t want you coming round here,’ she said to the burly man who followed her into the hallway, as she closed the door.

  ‘And I’ve told you, missus, it isn’t what you want that matters. The Boss has heard that you do a bit of singing down at the Grafton.’

  Sally stared at him. ‘What if I do?’ she challenged him.

  ‘She said to tell you that she wants you round at her local a week Saturday night, so that you can do a bit of singing for a few friends she’s going to be entertaining, seeing as it’s her birthday.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I work Saturday nights.’

  ‘Listen, you, when the Boss says she wants something she gets it, understand? You’d better, otherwise it will be the worse for you.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Sally protested. ‘I’ve just told you, I work Saturday nights.’

  ‘Got two kiddies, haven’t you?’ the man commented, ignoring her.