Some Lucky Day (5 page)

The girls were all in their Sunday best, and the older women were wearing pretty hats and summery dresses beneath their warm coats as they set out the picnics and enjoyed a good gossip. There were stalls selling tea, sandwiches, beer, motorbike spares and second-hand leather jackets, boots and helmets – and gaggles of girls gave the glad eye to the Americans who were showing off on their flash motorbikes. The uniforms were of just about every allied service, and the men who were not competing were examining the motorcycles with undisguised envy.

‘This is Rita,’ said Freddy as he introduced a pretty, dark-haired girl in trousers and an old WWI flying jacket. ‘She’s responsible for all this.’ He put his arm about the girl’s shoulder. ‘How much have you got for the fund, Rita?’

‘We’re nearly there,’ she said, easing away from his tethering arm. ‘Another fifty quid and we can get our town’s name printed on one of your Spitfires.’ She shot Kitty a grin. ‘It’s good to see another girl competing,’ she said. ‘I’m usually the only one.’

‘What bike have you got?’

‘A Triumph,’ she said proudly. ‘But it won’t match that beast, so we’ll be in different heats until the last race when it’s a free-for-all scramble.’

‘That sounds like fun,’ said Kitty. ‘I can’t wait to get stuck in.’

Rita grinned. ‘I look forward to seeing how you do.’ She took their money and handed them a neatly typed list of the races. ‘See you on the track,’ she said cheerfully, then walked away and was soon lost in the crowd.

‘She seems like a nice girl,’ said Kitty. ‘And what a marvellous thing to do.’

Freddy nodded. ‘She’s a lodger at Commander Black’s mother-in-law’s, that’s how we got to know about these race meetings in the first place.’ He pointed towards a small, dark-haired woman of about forty who was helping to serve the teas. ‘That’s Peggy Reilly,’ he said. ‘She’s Rita’s landlady and a jolly good sort.’

Kitty watched as the little woman bustled about dispensing tea and laughing and chatting with everyone. She didn’t know much about landladies except for what the comedians and postcards made of them, but Peggy Reilly certainly didn’t seem to fit that mould at all.

‘The Commander took some of us round to her boarding house for tea last Sunday,’ Freddy added with a grin. ‘It was great fun, and Roger and I got to meet the four other girls who lodge there.’ He leaned closer. ‘I think Roger was rather taken with the little red-haired nurse,’ he murmured.

Kitty wasn’t surprised, for Roger enjoyed playing the field, and he always had some giggling female in tow.

All conversation came to an end as the first race was announced and everyone drew closer to the wooden barriers that surrounded the twisting course. There were huge piles of old tyres at every corner to protect the cyclists should they skid off, and there was even a small stand by the winning post where it cost a bit more to sit on the hard wooden benches.

Kitty waited breathlessly as the first competitors rode their bikes to the starting line and waited with engines revving for Rita to drop the flag. Silence fell and the tension grew – then the flag went down and the crowd erupted into bellows of encouragement as the less powerful bikes took off and roared around the first bend.

There were great groans as the leader took the dog-leg too fast and smashed straight into the heap of tyres, and a round of applause as he got to his feet and shamefacedly collected his bike. Mud and cinders flew beneath the wheels, showering the spectators and smearing the riders’ goggles, and when the winner went through the chequered flag there was a roar of approval which made the dogs bark with all the excitement.

As the races continued and her own class approached, Kitty began to feel quite nervous. She hadn’t raced for years, and the bike was on loan and still felt unfamiliar. There were some very skilled riders here today, and it would be humiliating to lose to Freddy after all her boasting the previous night. Her doubts burgeoned as she pulled the Sidcot overalls over her trousers and tied the sleeves around her waist under her sheepskin-lined flying jacket.

‘Not having second thoughts, are you?’ Freddy asked as they wheeled the bikes through the crowd to reach the starting line.

‘Not at all,’ she lied as she rested the bike on its kickstand, strapped the flying helmet firmly under her chin and pulled on the goggles and gloves. ‘I’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the winning line.’

Despite her challenge, her mouth was dry and her heart was banging against her ribs with fear and excitement as she straddled the Ariel and started the engine. There were eight riders competing in this race and all of them were men, hell-bent on reaching the winning post first. She eyed the track which stretched in front of her and disappeared into the wickedly sharp bend which had caused so many spills already. Failure was not an option – she had to hold her nerve.

She dug the toe of her boot into the ground, struggling to keep the bike upright as the roar of the surrounding engines drowned out the noise from the crowd and the flag was raised to flutter in the breeze.

The flag went down and she shot off the starting line so fast the rear wheel skidded and she had to fight to keep control and not stall the engine. The others were edging ahead in those precious few lost seconds, so she changed gears, leaned across the tank and gauged the line she should take for the optimum advantage without risking going into another skid or causing a crash.

It was clearly every man for himself, with no concessions given because of her sex, and as she managed to get back into the melee, she saw Freddy nudging to the front. She negotiated the sharp bend by whipping through on the inside as the bike in front swerved and opened up a gap.

She was closer to Freddy now, and could see Roger tucking in behind him. She upped the gears and her speed on the long straight then smoothly took the long, sweeping bend which led into a dip. The Ariel roared down it and raced up the hill, taking to the air over the brow and landing with a firm thud that would have thrown her off if she hadn’t been such a skilled and experienced horseback rider. She’d overtaken two riders by using that little stunt, and was now edging up on Roger.

Exhilaration banished fear as well as caution, and she kept her speed high as she took the next long bend at such an angle her knee was almost touching the track. She could barely see through the splattered goggles now, but she didn’t dare clear them, for the course twisted away again and the second dog-leg was coming up.

Freddy was still in the lead with Roger edging up to his rear wheel and Kitty closing the gap on the third rider. But Freddy was going too fast into the dog-leg and his back wheel skidded, making the bike yaw right and left. Roger almost crashed into him because he was so close, and the third rider took advantage of the situation and shot past them both. Kitty didn’t have time to worry about Freddy as she negotiated the wickedly sharp bends and tried to catch Roger.

The winning post was up ahead and Roger was across it in second place. Freddy had caught up with her and was right alongside as they both opened up their throttles and hurtled for the line. It was anyone’s guess as to who had taken that third place.

Kitty’s heart was racing, the adrenalin pumping as she cut the speed to an amble and slowly turned back to the finishing line. This was on a par with flying a Spitfire, and she’d never felt quite so alive. ‘Who won?’ she asked the moment she brought the Ariel to a halt.

‘Billy Smith,’ said Rita, nodding to the big chap on a powerful Triumph. ‘But only by a whisker from Roger.’ She grinned at Kitty. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t split you and Freddy, so you’re both in third place.’

Kitty laughed as she pulled off the goggles. ‘Well done to Billy and hard luck Roger. As for you, Freddy Pargeter, perhaps now you’ll agree that I’m just as good as you.’

‘There are three more races,’ he replied. ‘So don’t start crowing just yet.’

Kitty wasn’t placed in any of the other races, but she didn’t mind at all. She’d had the best day she could remember in a long time, and spending these few precious hours with Freddy had been just what she’d needed to banish the homesickness.

They said goodbye to Rita, who made her promise to come back and race again when time and geography allowed, and made their leisurely way back to Cliffe airfield. The motorcycles were cleaned and stowed back in the hangar under tarpaulins, and then their riders headed for their separate ablutions blocks.

One look in the full-length mirror hanging from the door in the female accommodation hut had her in tears of laughter, for like Freddy and Roger, she was splattered from head to foot in mud and cinders, and the only clean patches were where her goggles had been. She looked like a demented panda after a mud bath.

Having soaked away the muck and the aches and pains, Kitty dressed once more in her uniform and stowed her filthy clothes in a side pocket of her overnight bag. She would wash them when she got back to Hamble.

It was still a lovely bright day, and after getting a sandwich from the canteen and a glass of beer from the mess bar, she and Freddy sat in deckchairs outside and talked of Charlotte and family and the life they’d left behind in Argentina as they waited for the Ansen to arrive to take Kitty back to her ferry pool.

The Ansen duly arrived and they reluctantly went to meet it. Freddy gathered her into his arms and held her tightly for a long moment before kissing the top of her head and releasing her. ‘Give my love to Charlotte and tell her I’ll see her next weekend, all being well. And you take care of yourself, Kitty,’ he said solemnly. ‘I don’t want another scare like yesterday.’

She gave him a brave little smile and gathered up her things. ‘Neither do I,’ she said ruefully. ‘Look after yourself, Freddy,’ she managed as the tears pricked. ‘Fly safe.’

Without waiting for his reply, she turned away and climbed aboard the air taxi. Having stowed her gear, she found a seat by the window and looked out, hoping to exchange a wave and a smile. But Freddy already had his back turned and was walking away, soon to be lost in the deep shadows of a nearby hangar. He hated goodbyes as much as she did.

IT HAD BEEN
two weeks since Peggy Reilly had helped Rita at the race meeting, and although she’d enjoyed the experience, she’d been very tired at the end of it. Now she was feeling the effects of the long walk to and from Cliffehaven station and was glad to have the pram to lean on. She still tired quickly, although the operation had been several weeks ago, and now there was a dull ache around her hysterectomy scar and she knew that by the time she reached home she’d be wrung out and in need of a cuppa and a bit of a sit down.

As she reached the end of Camden Road and waited for a convoy of army trucks to rumble up the hill from the seafront, she dabbed her hot face with a handkerchief, wondering if she’d been wise to make that long trek on this surprisingly warm June day. But really, she’d had no choice, for Ruby and her mother had arrived from London this morning, and of course she’d had to be there to hand over the numerous letters that had come for Ruby during her absence and welcome them both to Cliffehaven.

Peggy gave a soft smile as she crossed the main road and trudged further up the hill to the twitten that ran between the backs of the Victorian terraces. The letters had clearly come from the lovely Canadian soldier who’d taken such a shine to Ruby, and she rather hoped their fledgling romance would blossom once he’d returned from his training course.

It had been a very small welcoming party, with just herself, baby Daisy and Rita, and, of course, Stan the stationmaster. Stan was a widower in his early sixties who would have retired from the railways if it hadn’t been for the war. He’d had a soft spot for little Ruby from the moment she’d first stepped off the train from London in the middle of a freezing winter’s night, carrying the marks of her husband’s fists on her face, and with no coat and nowhere to go. Stan had soon taken on the role of guardian and surrogate grandfather, and had been the driving force behind saving her from the clutches of a predatory landlord, and seeing that she was safely billeted with Peggy.

Ruby had obviously been delighted to see them all again, for she and Rita had got on like a house on fire. But there was added warmth in her greeting to Stan, and Peggy could have sworn there had been tears in his eyes as he bashfully succumbed to her enthusiastic hug.

Peggy stopped by the back gate to catch her breath. Beach View Boarding House had survived quite well so far, she thought as she regarded the four-storey Victorian terraced house. The damage caused to the basement by the bomb blast that had nearly been the death of her, Daisy and Cordelia had been beautifully repaired by their friends and neighbours in an overwhelming act of kindness, and she counted herself very blessed.

She stood and admired the fresh brickwork and sturdy new guttering. There was a new frosted window beside the donated stone sink in her scullery, and a freshly painted second-hand back door. The flint wall at the bottom of the garden had been expertly repaired and the gate no longer hung from a single hinge. The shattered windows had been reglazed and heavily taped against further bomb blasts, loose tiles fixed or replaced, and the chimney made safe.

She gave a deep sigh of thankfulness that she hadn’t suffered the same fate as her less fortunate neighbours on the other side of the twitten. The damage had been so severe to two of the houses that they’d had to be demolished, and the poor residents were now in emergency lodgings on the far side of town. Even the third house still had scaffolding up and a tarpaulin covering the huge hole in the roof, and Peggy knew just how close she and her loved ones had come to being killed on that fateful night.

She opened the gate and wheeled the big pram along the slab path that ran past the ugly Anderson shelter and her father-in-law’s vegetable garden to the heavily laden washing line and the back door. Ron had repaired the hen house and coop, and the chickens didn’t seem at all upset, for they still provided lots of eggs and the rooster continued to be full of himself and very vocal. But Ron had yet to build another outside lav – and that was a big inconvenience.