Time Shall Reap (38 page)

Laura Fullerton gave a skip, her auburn curls swinging round her ears. ‘What’s the bets it’s fish again? What else could they give you in a fishing community?’ She was always ready for a laugh, and it was her imitation of one of their officers which had caused their previous hilarity.

In spite of their disparagement of her, they thought the world of Mrs Adams, a little round ball of a woman, who did have a tendency to mother them. ‘Where are you bound for tonight?’ she asked when they went in, producing, to their relief, a meat roll made from what the butcher cheerfully called sausage meat, although it consisted mainly of bread.

Betty laughed. ‘I think we’ll mosey along and see who we can pick up at the dance.’

The old lady reacted as the girl had expected. ‘You WAAFs and your slang. In my days, we’d to wait till we were asked to any dances, and we’d to stay the whole night with the same lad.’

Laura winked to her friends. ‘I’d gladly stay the whole night with any lad,’ she said, obviously meaning to shock, and they all laughed, including Mrs Adams.

When they reached the hall, it was already packed, a sea of Air Force blue moving in smooth waves, flecked with the bright colours worn by the local girls who flirted with all the young airmen, for Porthills had been a quiet backwater until the RAF came to Bonachy Aerodrome. The three WAAFs were intrigued by being stamped on the back of their hands with a purple star as soon as they went through the door.

‘What’s that for?’ Betty asked.

The organizer of the dance, a local man, said, ‘It’s so people can leave the hall and come back in without paying again. Some of the young lads here used to pretend they’d paid when they hadn’t.’

‘I felt like a cow being branded.’ Betty observed, as they went inside.

‘You’re the one that said it.’ Laura and Lep howled with unrestrained laughter.

On the dance floor, they surveyed the seething, swaying mass, and Laura’s eye was caught by a scraggy, sandy-haired sergeant, who made a bee line towards her when the quickstep came to an end. She nodded when he raised his eyebrows, and while they were foxtrotting, he told her that his name was Bill Darbourne, and that he came from London.

‘Oh, a Cockney?’ she teased.

‘No, I’m not a Cockney,’ he replied, earnestly. ‘I wasn’t born within the sound of Bow Bells, it was Barnet, actually, in north London. What’s your name and where do you belong?’

‘Laura Fullerton, and I belong ... anywhere I happen to be.’ Smiling at his puzzled expression, and aping his accent, she added, ‘It’s Aberdeen, actually.’

‘You’re not so very far from home, then.’ Bill guided her through a complicated pattern of small scissors steps to fit in with the slow rhythm. ‘It’s a helluva journey from London to Banffshire. You should thank your lucky stars you don’t have to contend with that when you go on leave.’

Having been so affected by Pat’s tragic death, Laura had asked to be posted away from Wick, and now that Mrs Haggarty had given up her boarding house, she had nowhere to go, but who cared? She couldn’t let herself worry about things like that when she was enjoying herself. Dancing was almost an obsession with her these days and she gladly went up with Bill Darbourne to the next dance, a tango. Glancing round, she saw Betty gliding past in the arms of a small, owlish-looking aircraftman with glasses, and smiled at the odd picture they made – the long and short of it. Then Louise, all four feet eleven of her, was swept past by a strapping six-footer, and Laura burst out laughing – the short and long of it this time.

Bill frowned. ‘What’s the joke?’

Laura pointed out the other two couples and told him what had passed through her mind, and he laughed, too. ‘I’d say we were pretty well matched, though, wouldn’t you?’

He was looking at her admiringly, so Laura made another joke to avoid any sentimentality developing. The tango finishing, the MC announced a Paul Jones, so she ran into the middle of the floor and contrived to miss Bill each time the music changed. She flirted mildly for the rest of the evening, but Bill claimed her for another dance near the end. ‘I think you’ve been avoiding me, Laura,’ he scolded.

It had taken some very careful manoeuvring on her part to avoid him every time he’d come towards her, but she grinned. ‘I can’t help being popular.’ She didn’t want to offend him, but she had to keep things on a manageable level. As soon as the Lambeth Walk was over, she dashed away from him. ‘Time to go, before the last waltz,’ she told Louise and Betty. Bill was looking for her and she didn’t want to give him the chance of asking to take her back to her billet, so she hustled the other two through the door.

‘What’s the rush?’ Betty sounded peevish when they were outside. ‘I was hoping to get a decent partner for the last dance. That shrimp of an AC2 was determined to walk me back, but I felt like a beanpole beside him.’

‘I’m quite happy to leave,’ remarked Lep. ‘I don’t feel easy trying to flirt like you two.’

Betty sighed. ‘Two against one – outvoted, poor me.’

Giggling, Laura began to waltz along the road, singing the song that had been playing when they left. ‘Who’s taking you home tonight, after the dance is through ... oo ... oo? Who’s going to hold you tight, and ...’

‘Why didn’t you want to dance with that sergeant?’ Betty interrupted. ‘I could see he was keen on you.’

‘Who, Bill?’ Laura laughed airily. ‘He was OK, but little old Laura doesn’t want any commitments, thank you. It’s more fun not being tied to any one boy.’

‘I guess it is more fun that way,’ Betty agreed, ‘and we can’t break up the Three Musketeers, can we?’

‘It’s not that I don’t want a boyfriend,’ Louise remarked, ‘but nobody looks at me when you two are around.’

‘Oh, you poor little Lep.’ Laura smiled to show she was teasing. ‘But I bet you’ll be the first one of us to get serious about a boy. Come on, girls. Race you to the house, and last one there’s a hairy witch.’

Louise, with her short legs, was last inside, but when Laura went to the bathroom, she said, ‘You know, Betty, I think she must have had a disappointment over a boy at some time. She never wants to be serious with any of the fellows she dances with, and some of them have been really nice.’

Betty smiled. ‘You’re very profound tonight, Lep, but I know what you mean. The flirting and joking do seem a bit forced at times, and it makes me wonder, too. It must have been pretty bad, because she never talks about it.’

Their tête-à-tête was stopped abruptly when Laura came into the room again.

Just over three months later, Louise astonished her friends one evening by saying, shyly, ‘I’m going out with one of the fitters tonight. He asked me at lunchtime in the Mess, and I thought, why not?’

‘Why not, indeed, my little leprechaun?’ Laura cried. ‘I can’t wait to see you married and having babies.’

‘We’re only going to see the film,’ Louise protested, her face colouring.

‘But it’s what could happen afterwards that you’ve got to watch.’ Betty poked her in the ribs. ‘Are you strong enough to fight off his immoral advances?’

‘Oh, you two!’ Louise rubbed some Pond’s Vanishing Cream into her face and patted on some powder, then took a tube of Max Factor lipstick and a bottle of Californian Poppy out of her bag.

‘Oho, we’re really out to make a kill.’ Laura winked at Betty as Lep dabbed the perfume behind her ears.

‘Be careful, Lep,’ Betty warned, when her friend went out. ‘That scent might go to his head.’ She lay back on her bed, her arm under her head. ‘Laura, don’t you ever fancy having a steady boyfriend? I know I do, sometimes.’

Laura hesitated. ‘No, not really. I’m having a whale of a time as it is.’

Giving up, Betty warbled, ‘Whale meat again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but we’ll have whale meat again some sunny day,’ and they dissolved into giggles.

When they simmered down, Laura said, ‘I don’t fancy the film, it’s one of those dreary gangster things, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass Lep by going anyway, but I don’t feel like staying in. How about going for a walk?’

Calling in at the local hotel on their way back, they struck up a conversation with two young civilians. ‘We’re due to register next week,’ one of them said.

‘I’m going to say I’m a conchie,’ said the other. ‘I don’t want to have to salute all the time like the Brylcreem boys. Their hands go up and down like yo-yos when they meet an officer, even when they’re off duty. And the air crews – boy, they don’t half fancy themselves.’

‘They’ve something to be proud of,’ Laura snapped, quite unexpectedly. ‘They’re fighting to keep the likes of you free, and they’re risking their lives every time they go up. Anyway, they’ll put you in prison if you say you’re a conscientious objector, and it’ll serve you bloody well right. Come on, Betty, we shouldn’t waste our time speaking to this idiot.’ She jumped to her feet and marched out.

Hurrying to catch up with her, Betty puffed, ‘That wasn’t like you, Laura – what got into you? Where’s your sense of humour? He was only a kid.’ She had been rather shocked by her friend’s outburst.

‘He made me so blasted mad criticizing the air crews like that.’ Laura was cooling down now, and laughed suddenly. ‘Did you see his face, though? If his mouth had fallen open any more, his chin would have hit his chest.’

Betty smiled momentarily, then said, ‘Are you jealous of Lep having a boyfriend? Is that why you’re so touchy?’

‘I’m not jealous, honestly, but I sometimes wish I could let myself be serious about somebody.’

‘Why can’t you? It’s not a crime. It’s only natural for a girl to fall in love and get married.’

‘I won’t let it happen to me! I just won’t!’

Her vehemence astonished Betty. ‘I don’t know if someone you loved was killed, or what it was that’s making you like this, but whatever it was, surely you can tell me about it? That’s what friends are for, you know.’

Sighing, Laura slowed her pace, but kept her eyes to the front. ‘It was nearly three years ago, at Turnhouse. We fell in love, but marriage was out of the question.’

‘Why? Was he married already?’

‘Yes.’ It seemed the simplest explanation.

‘Wouldn’t his wife divorce him?’

‘No.’ Feeling that she was getting in deep water, Laura said, ‘I asked for a posting and was sent to Wick, then I came here. Do you mind if we don’t discuss it any more?’

Betty walked a few steps before saying, ‘Your leave starts next week, doesn’t it? I heard you telling that sergeant you came from Aberdeen, are you going home?’

Realizing that Betty probably thought it strange that she never mentioned her family, Laura said, carefully, ‘There’s nobody in Aberdeen for me to visit now.’

‘Have your Mum and Dad moved?’

‘They’re ... both dead.’ It was all she could think of to stop the questions, but it didn’t work.

‘Oh, I’m sorry. How did it happen? Was it a bomb?’

Laura was aware that Betty was only showing concern, and decided that it might be best to tell her the truth – so much of it, at any rate. To continue with this deception would make her as bad as her ... ‘That wasn’t true. They’re not dead, as far as I know. We’d a flaming row in 1941 and I walked out. Don’t ask about it, because I can’t tell you.’

‘Don’t you ever feel like going home and apologizing?’ ‘No, and you’d never understand. Can’t we just let it drop now – please?’

Louise came in at eleven o’clock, enthusing about the film she had seen, and raving about Ernie Partington, the fitter who had escorted her. ‘I’m going out with him again on Friday. I really like him, girls, and I think he likes me, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed to make sure.’

‘You’d better cross your legs, too,’ Betty said, wickedly, making the girl blush with embarrassment.

‘I hope it’s the real thing, Lep,’ Laura said, seriously. ‘You deserve it.’ She also hoped that her friend would never have to undergo the trauma of losing a boy she loved.

They said nothing to spoil Louise’s obvious bliss when she returned on Friday night; they were fond of their little ‘leprechaun’ and were only too pleased that she was happy.

That weekend, her second leave from Bonachy due in a few days, Laura felt depressed. She had gone to Glasgow in May, but the boarding house she had found had felt alien to her, and, although she had seen a lot more of the city, she had been glad when it was time to return to Banffshire. Then Operation Overlord had started in June, and the pressure on the Ops Room had put everything else out of her head, but it had eased off now. She would have been quite happy to carry on without a break, but knew that it would not be allowed. Where would she go, that was the problem.

On an impulse, when the time came, she took her warrant out to London – perhaps to disprove Bill Darbourne’s remark that it was a ‘helluva journey’; perhaps to be somewhere that held no unpleasant memories, where she would be lost in anonymity.

When she set off, the challenge of breaking new ground buoyed up her spirits, but, waiting in Aberdeen Joint Station for a train, she remembered that the last time she had been there was on her way to Edinburgh to say goodbye to John Watson for ever. The same sickness clutched at the pit of her stomach, the same ache gnawed at her heart, and for several minutes she wallowed in misery. It was only three years ago, but it seemed like another life, another world, and so much had happened in between.

At last she stood up and walked over to the kiosk to buy something to read on her journey, and by the time she was served the gates were open and she joined the queue, showing her travel documents to the ticket collector on her way to the correct platform. Finding an empty carriage, she slung her bag up on the luggage rack and settled down next the window. Most of the other travellers going past were in the services, but there was a sprinkling of civilians, and Laura wondered where and why they were travelling, because there were huge posters everywhere demanding, ‘Is your journey really necessary?’ Was hers, for that matter?

Before long, her carriage was filling up. Two REME boys, a sailor and a Wren had crushed into the opposite side, and two women, one young and the other middle-aged, were facing the engine like herself. Then a tall Norwegian sailor popped his head round the door and sighed with relief when he saw the small space next to Laura. The rack was full, but he sat down with his kitbag between his feet.