Keep Smiling Through (18 page)

‘You don’t look it either,’ replied Louise, running her fingers through the tangled mop of Rita’s hair. ‘Come on, hurry and get washed and dressed. I’ve made a special breakfast, and there’s a pile of presents waiting in the other room.’

Rita sniffed the air. ‘Can I smell bacon?’

Louise smiled. ‘You can – and that’s not all. Hurry up.’

Rita cleaned her teeth and washed in the kitchen sink then hurriedly got dressed in a clean shirt, sweater and dungarees. The delicious aroma of frying bacon made her mouth water as she tugged on thick socks and ran a brush through her hair. The weariness had fled, and she felt ready for her special day as she excitedly began to open her presents.

There was a lovely warm sweater in the softest moss green from Louise, a pretty winceyette nightdress from Peggy, and a pair of beautiful leather gloves from her father accompanied by a letter and a silky scarf. ‘My goodness,’ she breathed. ‘I will look smart.’

‘Only if you don’t wear the sweater and gloves on that bike of yours,’ said Louise. ‘I spent too long knitting that to have it ruined with oil.’

Rita gave her a huge hug. ‘Thanks, Mamma. It’s beautiful and I shall take enormous care of everything, I promise.’

‘There is one more gift,’ said Louise, taking a neat package out of the table drawer. ‘Papa Tino saw them months ago and he and Roberto agreed they would be perfect for this very special birthday.’

Rita carefully undid the lovely red ribbon and opened the box. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘How lovely. How simply . . .’ She could feel the onset of tears as she took the pearl earrings out of the box. ‘They’re perfect, Mamma,’ she sighed, holding them to her ears to get the effect in the mirror on the wall, ‘but Papa Tino shouldn’t have spent so much.’

‘It was no matter to Tino,’ said Louise. ‘You are his little girl, and he wanted you to have something to mark your journey into womanhood.’

‘I’ll have to get my ears pierced,’ Rita replied, looking this way and that and admiring her reflection in the spotted glass.

‘I can do that tonight,’ said Louise. ‘I have some simple gold rings you can wear until the holes heal. My daughters used them when I did theirs.’

Rita wasn’t at all sure if she wanted Louise sticking a hot needle through her earlobes, but she would just have to grin and bear it if she wanted to wear those gorgeous earrings. She carefully put them back in their nest of cotton and closed the box.

‘All the excitement has made me ravenous, Mamma. Where’s that breakfast you promised?’

Louise carefully took the two plates out of the warming section of the range, and proudly placed them on the table.

Rita gasped at the sight of half a sausage, a rasher of bacon, fried bread and – wonders of wonders – a beautiful golden egg. ‘Where on earth did you manage to get this lot?’ she breathed. ‘It must have taken all your coupons and cost half a week’s wage.’

Louise sat down and picked up her knife and fork. ‘That’s for me to know,’ she said smiling back. ‘It’s worth it just to see you smile, and we both deserve a treat now and then.’

‘Thank you, Mamma,’ Rita said softly.

‘Eat,’ she ordered, waving her fork at her and sniffing back her tears. ‘It’s getting cold.’

Several minutes later their plates were empty and Rita was mopping up the last of her delicious breakfast with a hunk of bread. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a meal, and was feeling pleasantly full and rather sleepy.

‘You must go,’ said Louise, as she cleared the plates. ‘It’s getting late. I’ll see you and May back here at five sharp.’

Rita struggled into her heavy boots and tied the laces before slipping on her coat. ‘I’ll take the bike so I can get there and back quicker. I’ve got enough petrol.’

‘You be careful. Now go, and leave me to prepare our special supper before I leave for work.’

Rita kissed her goodbye, ran down the back stairs and quickly got the motorbike out of the garage. There were no letters in the box below the slit in the door, but then it was hours before the postman was due to deliver. Aware of how early it was, and that most sensible people would still be tucked up in bed, she pushed the bike to the end of the road before starting it.

As she rode through the twilight of the quiet streets she experienced a rush of hope and excitement. She was eighteen at last, and the only thing that would make this day even more perfect than it already was, was a letter from the WAAFs telling her they wanted her to join them.

Setting aside all the doubts that had plagued her ever since she’d filled in that form, she breathed in the cold December air and concentrated on the deep, satisfying rumble of the Norton’s engine, and the sense of power it always gave her to be in command of such a machine.

The factory was a hive of industry despite the hour, with the night shift leaving and the early shift drifting in. May was already busy welding and gave her a wave in greeting. ‘Happy birthday,’ she shouted above the noise. ‘We’ll catch up during the break.’

Rita grinned back and nodded. She hung her gas mask box and coat on her hook and placed her packet of sandwiches and flask of tea on her bench. Reaching for the protective leather apron, she slipped it over her head and began to tie it round her waist.

‘Good morning, Rita.’ Vi Charlton emerged from the small canteen where she worked as a cook, and was pulling on her coat and scarf. She gave a vast yawn. ‘I’m ready for me bed, and that’s a fact. I hate working nights.’

Rita stifled her own yawn. ‘I’m not too fond of these early starts either, but someone’s got to do it.’

Vi placed a beret neatly over her glossy hair. ‘I saw you talking to Chuck Howard yesterday,’ she said, her eyes glinting with curiosity. ‘Are you stepping out with him?’

Rita laughed. ‘He was only asking about the bike, Vi.’

Vi regarded her evenly. ‘You’re a pretty girl, Rita. There’s no harm in having a bit of fun.’ She came closer so those nearby couldn’t overhear. ‘Did he ask you out?’

‘Just for a drink, but I turned him down.’

‘But why?’

Rita shrugged. ‘I’d come straight from work and looked a fright.’ She grinned back at Vi. ‘It was a good thing I did turn him down,’ she confided. ‘You should have heard Louise hit the roof when I told her.’

Vi pulled on knitted gloves and wound the scarf more tightly about her throat. ‘You’re young and free and should make your own choices,’ she said flatly. ‘Louise should realise that and not keep you tied to her apron strings.’

Rita felt a jolt of defensiveness. ‘She’s only looking out for me, Vi.’

‘Is she?’ Vi arched a finely plucked brow. ‘Or is she looking out for herself now she’s only got you to rely on?’

Rita bristled. ‘That’s unfair, Vi. She’s been like a mother to me and we rely on each other.’

Vi gave a deep sigh. ‘I know, and I didn’t mean to cause offence, but you have a life to live, Rita – and it seems to me you’re wasting it by hiding away with Louise.’

‘I think you’ve said enough,’ warned Rita.

Vi’s pretty eyes clouded. ‘Yes, I probably have. But think about what I’ve said, Rita. You’ll thank me for it in the end.’ With that, she hitched her gas mask box and handbag over her shoulder and stepped out into the dawn.

Rita was seething as she snatched up the visor and put it over her head until it settled firmly, and then donned the heavy gloves. Vi had a cheek, she thought. It was all very well for her – she had nobody to worry about but herself since her children had been evacuated. And as for suggesting Louise was holding her back – well, that was just ridiculous. She picked up the blowtorch, examined the job in hand and set to work.

It was breaktime and Rita and May had found a relatively quiet corner to eat their sandwiches. ‘Happy birthday, Rita,’ muttered May through a mouthful of bread and Spam. ‘I’ve got you a present, but I’m saving it until tonight.’

‘You didn’t have to get me anything,’ Rita protested.

May shrugged. ‘I wanted to, and anyway, this could be the last birthday we’ll share until this war’s over, so why not make it special?’ She regarded Rita from beneath her heavy blonde fringe. ‘What’s Louise doing for tea tonight? I love her cooking.’

‘I don’t know.’ Rita chuckled. ‘She’s keeping it a secret.’ She went on to tell her friend about her lovely presents. ‘Louise promised to pierce my ears for me, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough.’ She eyed May’s earlobes where tiny gold studs glistened. ‘Does it hurt very much?’

‘Yeah, a bit at first, but you soon get over it.’

‘Smith. In my office, please.’

Rita looked up at Major Patricia and quailed. What on earth had she done wrong now? She set aside her sandwich and, with a grimace at May, hastened to follow the striding figure into the office.

‘Shut the door.’

Rita shut the door and waited nervously as the older woman reached for some papers on her desk.

‘I have had a letter from the Air Force Administrators,’ she said without preamble. ‘They have asked for a reference.’

Rita swallowed as excitement fluttered in her midriff. ‘For me?’ she managed.

‘I’d hardly be discussing this with you if it wasn’t,’ the Major replied dryly. She eyed Rita sternly. ‘Are you unhappy here, Smith?’

‘Not at all,’ she stammered, ‘it’s just that I . . . I . . .’

‘Want something more exciting than welding,’ the other woman finished for her. She clasped her hands behind her back and stuck out her chest. She looked formidable. ‘You have an important posting here, Smith. Not many young women are as efficient and skilled as you, and the RAF relies absolutely on their aircraft being fitted out to the highest standard.’

Rita really didn’t know what to say.

‘I see from your records that you are eighteen today and therefore entitled to sign up to any of the forces. But before I send this reference off, I want you to be absolutely sure you wish to join the WAAFs and not continue your sterling efforts here.’

Rita was quaking, but she realised that in a backhanded sort of way she’d been given enormous praise by this hard-to-please woman. ‘Thank you, Major,’ she managed, not daring to meet those gimlet eyes. ‘I have enjoyed working here, but I’m quite sure about joining the WAAFs. It’s something I’ve wanted to do ever since war was declared.’

‘I see.’ The Major’s expression softened as she eyed her. ‘You will be missed,’ she said. ‘It’s rare to find a girl with such a feel for working in this environment, and you can be assured that your reference from me will be positive.’

‘Thank you, Major.’

‘Off you go, Smith, and remember to give me as much warning as possible before you leave. I’ll need to fill your placement.’

‘How long do you think I’ll have to wait to hear from them?’

‘I have no idea, but I doubt it will be long.’ She dismissed her with a wave of her hand and Rita fled the office.

‘What did she want?’ May was preparing to get back to work, but her curiosity had been too great to ignore.

Rita told her. ‘They’re obviously processing my application, May,’ she breathed, ‘and she’s promised to give me a good reference.’ She hesitated.

‘But?’ May coaxed.

‘But now the waiting will be even harder – and how do I tell Louise?’

‘I’d cross that bridge when you come to it,’ said May. She pulled the visor over her head and gave her friend a wink. ‘You’ll think of something.’

Rita slowly donned her protective garments, her thoughts in a whirl, the excitement making it hard to concentrate on the job in hand. This was turning out to be quite a birthday, and she just prayed that nothing would spoil it.

Ron was not enjoying hospital, and even though he was wise enough to realise it was the best place for him, he couldn’t wait to escape. His chest felt tight and his breath rattled, but at least the pills had put a stop to his headache, and the fears about pneumonia had turned out to be a false alarm. The doctor had assured him he wasn’t suffering from anything more than a nasty chill and a couple of pulled muscles in his chest.

As for Matron Billings, she was a battleaxe who seemed determined to truss him as tightly as she could in this damned bed, her beady eye settling on him every time she came into the ward.

He lay there tugging at the sheet and blankets in a desperate attempt to free himself, when he caught the welcome sight of his granddaughter coming through the doors with the other visitors. ‘Help me loosen these,’ he mumbled through the oxygen mask.

Anne obliged, kissed his cheek and sat down. ‘You’re obviously feeling better.’ She shot him a smile. ‘These will probably cheer you up further.’ She placed the evening paper on the bed, along with the latest copy of the
Field
– a specialist magazine for the hunting, shooting and fishing brigade, to which Ron had always subscribed.

‘To be sure, and you’re a good girl, so you are,’ he muttered. ‘They’ll help to pass the time away. How’s Harvey?’

‘Feeling sorry for himself,’ Anne replied dryly. ‘We couldn’t leave him downstairs all night because he just howled and kept everyone awake. Now he’s lying on the front doormat and refuses to move.’

‘Bring him in to visit. That’ll settle him down.’

‘Don’t be daft, Grandpa. They won’t let dogs in here.’

He thought about it for a moment and then reluctantly nodded. ‘Matron Billings doesn’t like her patients much – I dread to think what she’d make of Harvey.’

Anne giggled. ‘We had a telephone call from Mum, by the way. She’s arrived safely in Somerset, and the boys are well and growing like weeds. She sounded very happy, so we didn’t tell her about your adventures.’

‘Probably best. Peggy worries too much as it is.’ He eyed his lovely granddaughter and noticed how well she looked. ‘I don’t need to ask how you are, me darlin,’ he muttered. ‘You’re positively blooming.’

‘It’s the walk to the hospital,’ she said lightly. ‘The wind is coming off the sea today and it’s bitterly cold.’ She looked up as the ward door opened. ‘I’ll be getting home if you don’t mind, Grandpa,’ she said, gathering her things together. ‘Mrs Finch is in charge of tea and will probably need a hand.’

‘But you’ve only just got here,’ he protested. ‘The days are long enough, and visiting time is the only chance to have a decent conversation.’