Time to Say Goodbye (26 page)

By now they had begun to walk towards the pub, Auntie in the middle with Imogen on one side, Rita on the other and Debby carrying her basket, though it contained little beside her handbag and the greaseproof paper which had held her sandwich lunch. ‘Will Jill be all right?’ Debby asked anxiously. ‘I’m so sorry about the other girls; were many of them injured?’

Auntie began to speak in a reassuring voice, but then seemed to change her mind. ‘Yes. Jill was one of the lucky ones,’ she said grimly. ‘A great many people died, and many more were injured. The hospitals are packed, but the doctors and nurses say they can cope.’

‘Can we go and see her?’ Imogen asked eagerly. ‘Oh, poor Jill. Does she feel very dreadful, Auntie?’

Rita cut in before Auntie could speak. ‘Of course she does,’ she said crossly. ‘When you say she was hit in the shoulder, Auntie, was anything broken?’

Auntie nodded. ‘Yes, her collarbone. And when it’s safe of course you can visit her, but only one at a time, I’m afraid. Visiting is usually between seven and eight, but I’m sure the hospital will make an exception in your case. And now let’s talk about something a little more cheerful. What are we going to have for supper?’

The blitz on Norwich continued for the rest of the week, though with varying severity, but Auntie refused to let the girls go into the city until the raids had been over for a week, and then she would not let the boys accompany them.

‘Patients at the hospital are only allowed one visitor per bed; the girls will have fifteen minutes each and that will be plenty long enough, for Jill is still very weak.’ She saw the disappointment on the boys’ faces and relented a little. ‘Why not meet the bus and come back to the Linnet for supper? Then the girls can tell you just how Jill is.’

‘We could go next week . . .’ Josh began, only to be put firmly in his place.

‘Laurie is coming all the way down from Lincolnshire whenever he can manage it,’ Auntie said. ‘I spoke to the sister in charge of the ward and she says Jill is a grand girl and determined to be back at the control centre just as soon as she’s able. She’ll get some leave – bound to – so you’ll be able to see her then.’

The girls were given permission to take an afternoon off school and set off for their first visit, and were shocked and appalled by the state of the city. When they got off the bus Rita lifted her chin and sniffed, reminding Imogen sharply of the Bisto Kids. ‘What’s that glorious smell?’ Rita asked curiously. ‘I’ve smelt it before, but I can’t put a name to it . . .’

A passer-by, overhearing, grinned broadly. ‘That’s clear you aren’t local,’ he said. ‘Them bloody Nazis hit the Caley’s factory; that’s chocolate you can smell.’ He looked at them curiously. ‘Know where you’re headin’?’ He pointed. ‘This here’s Surrey Street, and up there’s Ipswich Road. Any help to you?’

Rita was inclined to say that they could find their way very well, thank you, but Imogen was not so proud. She gave him the name of the hospital and listened gratefully to his instructions, and presently the girls found themselves pushing through the revolving doors and being directed to the ward by a harassed but friendly nurse.

After explaining who they were to the sister in charge, the girls went on to the ward, a long room with a dozen beds on either side. They had just begun to walk along between the rows when Debby gave a squeak. ‘There she is!’ she said joyfully. ‘Look, she’s trying to wave.’ She began to run towards a figure at the far end of the ward, then remembered where she was and slowed to a walk. Imogen, following close behind, was shocked: Jill was white as a ghost and seemed to have lost weight simply by lying in bed. Her hair hung limply on either side of her face, her eyes were blue-shadowed, and there were hollows beneath her cheeks, but when they got closer her eyes lit up and her beautiful, gentle smile illumined her pale face.

‘Girls! How lovely to see you! Auntie said you were going to come and visit, but she wasn’t sure when. Laurie came two days ago, and now that I’m able to leave my bed I telephone his station each morning to make sure he’s come back safe from whatever sortie he’s on. How are you all? And how are the boys?’

‘We’re fine, and so are they,’ Imogen said at once. ‘But oh, we do miss you, Jill! It’s daft really because you’ve been in the WAAF, and away from us, for nearly a year now. But you always came back to the pub whenever you had the chance.’

‘Did you know the bombs hit the Caley factory?’ Rita put in. ‘When we got off the bus all we could smell was chocolate; we wish we could have brought you some, only I expect it’s all ruined. But we did bring you some mint humbugs.’ She handed over the sweets and gradually the shyness which had gripped the three girls when they saw how pale and pulled Jill looked dissipated, and by the time a nurse came along, saying rather reproachfully that two of them should have waited outside and gone in separately, so as not to tire the patient, they were chattering freely.

On the bus going home, however, Rita gave vent to her feelings. ‘Bloody, bloody Nazis,’ she muttered. ‘I’m sure our chaps would never target people on the ground.’

Imogen raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sure it was dreadful, but as Auntie says, it’s war,’ she told her friend. ‘And even if our chaps don’t deliberately fire on people, they bomb them. You mustn’t try to pretend that the RAF don’t hurt women and children – babies, even – because what choice do they have?’

‘And remember, Jill and her friends are all Waafs,’ Debby reminded Rita when she remained obstinately silent. ‘And from what I’ve read in the papers the Nazis do much worse things than shoot at girls in uniform. In fact I know they do; my family didn’t leave Germany without a very good reason. I wonder how long Jill will be able to stay with us when she comes out of hospital? She won’t be able to plot aircraft across the control board until her collarbone knits, or whatever it is they’re supposed to do.’

Rita took the opportunity to tease Debby, though not as cruelly as she sometimes did, saying she now had a mental picture of Jill’s collarbone, needles in hand, quietly knitting away at an air force sock.

When the bus reached the village they found Woody and Josh waiting for them. ‘How was Jill?’ Woody asked eagerly, and before any of the girls could answer he added: ‘But you needn’t tell us now. Auntie’s invited us to supper because she knew we’d want to hear how Jill’s doing, so let’s save it till then. Auntie says she might be out of hospital next week.’

‘Yes and the sister on the ward told us they’ll release her to Auntie’s care, which is great,’ Imogen said joyfully. ‘Jill says she’ll lie on the couch in the small parlour and as soon as she’s able she’ll start doing the books again.’

Rita giggled. ‘Auntie does do them – the books I mean – but because of coupons and restrictions it’s awfully hard work. As soon as the bar closes you can see her scribbling away. We try to help – counting coupons and checking the stock – but sometimes I think we only confuse her, so she’ll be tickled pink to get Jill back, even if it’s only for a week or two.’

When they entered the Linnet, they found Auntie sitting at the table carving what looked like a joint of pork. The smell was delicious, and when Auntie bade them to take their places around the table they obeyed with alacrity.

‘I smell stuffing, the sort you make yourself,’ Debby said ecstatically. ‘Gosh, and roast potatoes; what have we done to deserve such a feast, Auntie?’

Auntie continued to carve the meat and divide it between the plates she had set ready. Then she began to dish up the potatoes and spoon some delicious stuffing on to each plate. ‘Mr Huggit killed a pig,’ she explained. ‘This is our share, so make the most of it. Now tell me, did you have a good visit? And how was my poor little niece?’

‘Sister says she’ll be home before next weekend,’ Rita informed her, helping herself to carrots and cabbage as the tureen was passed around the table. ‘The MO says she won’t be fit for work for a long time, so you’ll have help with the books again, Auntie.’

‘Well, isn’t that the best news anyone could hear?’ Auntie said at once, beaming around the table. ‘I knew Jill did the right thing when she joined the WAAF, but my goodness, don’t we miss her! What with coupons, rationing and all the masses of paperwork I have to fill in and send off just to get a barrel or two of beer, I seem to work from dawn till dusk, and then from dusk till dawn. But having my Jillywinks back, even for a short while, will be a great relief.’ Her tone suddenly sharpened. ‘Have you eaten all your meat already, Debby? Or did I give you a very tiny helping?’

‘It’s all right, Auntie; I’m almost a vegetarian so I passed most of it to Woody. Can I have a bit more stuffing, though? And is that apple sauce? I love apple sauce.’

Imogen, in front of whose plate was a round dish of apple sauce, pushed it along the table without comment, but Rita remarked that Debby had not been backward in coming forward when Auntie had made toad in the hole the previous week. Imogen was about to jump to Debby’s defence when Josh forestalled her. ‘Sausages are mostly sawdust,’ he said briskly. ‘I say, Auntie, I feel really mean eating your share of Mr Huggit’s pig, because Mrs P will get her share as well. But knowing her, she’ll send us down tomorrow with liver or kidneys or a couple of pork chops, to make up.’

‘That’s true,’ Auntie nodded. ‘Now let’s eat up, because I’ve an apple pudding steaming on the back of the stove and some custard made up in the jug. Goodness, how I’m looking forward to having my niece home once more!’

For one reason and another the youngsters had not visited the Lookout since the previous summer, and when the raids on Norwich started and they saw with their own eyes the terrible results of the Luftwaffe’s attacks, visited Jill in hospital and heard sad stories on every side it had seemed a childish pastime. But now it was June, and Jill had returned to an airfield not far from Laurie’s, though she was now training as an R/T operator. Laurie had visited her a couple of times while she was at the Linnet, and on those nights Imogen took care to stay in her room, even when for some reason she might otherwise have padded down the stairs to the kitchen. She had no wish to repeat her previous experience.

Now that the weather was set fair, however, Woody suggested one Saturday that they really should visit the Lookout. Last autumn’s leaves would have piled up and the debris of the winter might make climbing the great beech both difficult and dangerous unless they first went prepared to test and clear every branch. Auntie and Jill had never been told much about the Lookout, though they knew it existed; they had no idea how high one had to climb to reach the position from which they could see the airfield, so Auntie agreed to lend brushes, rakes and other implements needed to clear the platform the boys had built. As they wended their way through the familiar countryside Woody turned to Imogen. ‘We’re getting too old for mucking about with the Lookout and pretending we’d carry on a guerrilla war from there if the Nazis ever landed,’ he said rather discontentedly. ‘I’ve joined the air force cadets; did I tell you? And as soon as I’m old enough I’ll join the regulars. I’d like to fly, of course, but I believe they’re getting pretty damned fussy; you have to pass all sorts of exams before they’ll even let you put a foot on the runway.’

Rita, overhearing, snorted. ‘Oh, rubbish; you’re talking through your hat,’ she said scornfully. ‘My cousin Albert—’

‘Sod your cousin Albert; we’ve heard all we want to hear about him,’ Woody said at once. ‘And anyway he’s not a pilot . . .’

‘He’s air crew; he might be a pilot for all I know,’ Rita said defensively. ‘You’re just using it as an excuse because you don’t want to leave school. But if you do decide to join up – before your age group gets conscripted, I mean – then you’ll probably end up as an armourer or a plain old motor mechanic.’

‘I don’t see that it matters if he is, because he’ll still be helping with the war effort,’ Debby the peacemaker said. ‘You can’t pick and choose in wartime, Rita. You have to do whatever job the air force needs most.’

Rita went pink. ‘I wouldn’t be content to muck around with engines if I were a man; I’d want to do something really useful, like piloting a heavy bomber the way Laurie does. But of course it’s different for you, Woody; you’re only a boy.’

Woody’s normally easy-going freckled face turned scarlet and his eyes blazed. ‘At least I’ll be a man one day, even if I’m not yet sixteen,’ he said angrily. ‘But you, Rita Jeffries, will never be a man, because you’re just a silly little girl who thinks she’s oh so marvellous . . .’

Rita, who was carrying a long-handled brush, suddenly whirled round and round, shouting she was glad she would never be a horrible boy, and let go of the brush, which flew across the clearing and hit Woody’s head with such force that he was knocked over. There was a general outcry and Rita rushed to apologise and pick him up, but Woody scrambled to his feet, the light of battle in his eyes. Imogen saw that he had a bruise the size of an egg on the side of his forehead, a bruise which was dripping blood, and noticed how he swayed and clutched the nearest tree for support. She turned on Rita, too angry to guard her tongue as she usually did with the other girl.

‘You wicked girl, Rita Jeffries!’ she shouted, her voice trembling. ‘You could’ve killed him, and all he did was say you weren’t a boy, which is pretty damned self-evident. You’re wicked . . . and if you had killed him, it would have been murder, so tell him you’re sorry!’

‘I’m not sorry; he started it,’ Rita yelled, but her voice was trembling. She turned to Imogen. ‘Oh, come off it, Immy. It was an accident, and anyway I said I was sorry . . .’

Debby tried to break in again, still apparently wanting to make peace, but now Imogen was yelling at Rita and neither of them paid any attention until Josh’s voice rose over the hubbub.

‘We’ve got to get him back to the Linnet, or at least to the village,’ he said urgently. ‘That whack on the temple ought to be seen to.’ He turned to Rita. ‘You can do what you like, but I reckon it will take the rest of us to get him back to civilisation, so you can help if you want or go your own way.’

‘I’m not coming back with you. He’ll be all right, and someone’s got to clear the Lookout,’ she said sulkily.