Wish Me Luck (27 page)

‘I’ll not let it,’ Harry said stoutly. ‘I’ll just remember that my Doris would have liked that. They were big pals, y’know. ‘Er and Mary Jackson. Big pals. Alius in and out of each other’s kitchens. Borrowing sugar and a bit of flour. And swapping recipes. No, lass, she’d have been thrilled. And so will I be.’

Life at Wickerton Wood had been fairly mundane for several weeks, if being involved with bombing raids could ever be described as mundane, but on the day that Meg came to visit a bigger mission than usual had been planned for that night and everyone on the airfield was tense.

Take-off, with more than the normal number of aircraft taking part, went smoothly and everyone in the watch office heaved a sigh of relief as the last bomber lumbered into the air and disappeared into the deepening dusk. The airfield was strangely silent after the drumming of dozens of engines. Yet for some reason the staff were unable to relax into their usual diversions for the waiting hours. Peggy made copious cups of tea until Fleur said, ‘Do you know, when this war’s over, I don’t think I’ll ever drink tea again.’ She was trying to lighten the atmosphere, but failing. ‘It’s my landlady’s cure-all and we seem to drink gallons of it here too.’ Fleur, more than anyone, was feeling jittery. When she’d pricked her finger twice sewing a button on her blouse, she gave up and tried to read. But the words on the page blurred before her eyes and the light romantic novel seemed out of place when she was in the middle of a real-life drama.

The aircraft were late – all of them – and Bob began his restless pacing as he always did. At last, the first call sign came over the airwaves and one by one the planes limped home. And many of them had some damage. Several were landing on almost empty tanks. One plane had a damaged undercarriage and slithered off the runway to land on its belly on the perimeter track, the crash crews and fire tenders screaming out to it at once.

Then there were only three left to return, but the airwaves were silent. Fleur glanced up at the blackboard. Her heart missed a beat and then began to thump wildly.

Beside Tommy Laughton’s name, the space was blank.

The minutes seemed to turn into hours whilst they all waited. The wireless crackled and a voice requested permission to land. But it wasn’t Tommy and Robbie’s aircraft. Kay snapped her answer. It was the first time Fleur had ever seen her colleague show any sign of stress whilst on duty.

The aircraft landed safely and then – there was silence once more. The tension in the watch office mounted. No one spoke as the minutes ticked by.

At last, when they were almost ready to give up hope, the radio crackled into life once more, and Fleur almost fainted with relief as she heard, ‘Hello, Woody, this is D-Doggo calling . . .’

Fleur flew into his arms, not caring who saw them, not caring if she was reprimanded.

‘I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought we’d never get married. I thought. ..’

Though exhausted, with heavy dark rings under his eyes, Robbie could still raise a smile. ‘Hey, what do you take me for?’ He put his arm about her as they continued walking towards the debriefing centre. ‘I’m not the sort of chap who leaves his girl standing at the altar. Not even Adolf is going to stop that.’

‘Oh, Robbie . ..’ She was crying openly now.

He paused a moment and turned to face her, taking her face between his hands. ‘I have to go now, darling. You know that. But I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She nodded. ‘Get some sleep. You look all in.’

His eyes clouded. ‘It was a bad one, Fleur. Our plane is badly damaged. But the one good thing is we won’t be flying tomorrow. So I’ll see you tomorrow night and you can tell me how all the plans are going. Love you . . .’ He kissed her soundly on the mouth and turned to follow his weary crew into debriefing.

Suddenly, the tiredness washed over Fleur. Anxiety for Robbie had kept her going, but now that he was safe, the sleepless hours finally caught up with her. By the time she had walked to the cottage – it would be a while before Ruth could come home – Fleur had scarcely the strength to climb the stairs and fall into bed. So it wasn’t until the following morning that Fleur heard from Mrs Jackson that Meg had visited.

‘I told her I didn’t think you’d be home yesterday, so she didn’t wait, but she left the dresses for you to try on .. .’ Mary Jackson repeated Meg’s instructions about the fitting. Then she added anxiously, ‘Fleur, I’m sorry, but I told her I thought there was something big going on at the airfield. I hope I didn’t worry her.’

Fleur stared at her. She opened her mouth to say,
Of course you’ll have worried her. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a word. . .
But seeing the troubled look on the old lady’s face, her swift anger melted and instead she said, ‘Robbie’s back safely. I’ll let her know somehow.’

‘Don’t send her a telegram,’ Ruth said, her mouth full of porridge. ‘That’ll scare the living daylights out of her.’

Fleur bit her lip. ‘But how can I let her know then? I can’t go in person, we’re on duty again tonight, aren’t we?’

Ruth nodded. ‘But Robbie probably won’t be flying. His plane won’t be ready for tonight.’ She glanced up at Fleur. ‘Did you see it?’

Fleur shook her head.

‘Badly shot up, it was. One engine out of action and holes all down the fuselage. It was a miracle they got back at all, and even more miraculous not one of them was hurt.’

Fleur shuddered and sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

‘I’ll ring Mr Tomkins at the shop on the corner. He’s the only one with a telephone in our street, but he doesn’t mind taking messages for folks. ‘Specially not now. And his little lad positively longs for the phone to ring.’ Robbie laughed. ‘The little tyke gets a few coppers from anyone he delivers a message to. More, if it’s good news he brings.’

‘I hadn’t the heart to tell Mrs Jackson off, but she really shouldn’t have said anything.’

Robbie pulled a face. ‘Ma knows the score, I doubt she’s any more worried than usual. But I will ring. There might be something on the wireless about it being a bad raid. Then she will worry.’

‘Let’s walk down to the phone box and do it now,’ Fleur insisted. Although it wasn’t her fault, she felt guilty that Meg had been burdened with extra anxiety. Though the worry would always be present, miles away in Nottingham she was usually unaware of exactly what was happening. But not this time.

As they walked down the lane, arm in arm, Robbie said, ‘At least I’ve a bit of good news. My leave for the whole week after the wedding has been granted.’

Fleur grinned up at him. ‘Mine too. I heard yesterday.’ She hugged his arm. ‘So where are you taking me on honeymoon?’

‘Ah – now I haven’t quite decided. But I’ll tell you one thing. One of the chaps is lending me his sports car for the week, so as long as I can scrounge enough petrol we can go anywhere you like.’

‘I don’t care. Just as long as we’re together.’

They reached the phone box and Robbie got through to Mr Tomkins. ‘Just get your Micky to nip down the street and tell Ma and Pops I’m OK.’

‘Right you are, lad . . .’ Fleur, squashed into the box alongside him, heard the shopkeeper’s voice faintly. ‘Glad to hear you’re OK. All ready for the big day, a’ yer? All the best from me and the missis.’

‘Thank you, Mr Tomkins,’ Robbie said and turned to Fleur. ‘Did you hear that?’

Fleur nodded as Robbie bent his head to kiss her. ‘Oh, I’m ready for the big day all right.’ Only the sharp rapping of someone on the glass window, anxious to use the telephone, finally disturbed them.

On a warm day towards the end of June, Fleur was at the end of the cottage tending the growing row of sweet peas. She sprayed the plants with water and then pinched out the side shoots. Pulling up one of the plants where the leaves had turned yellow, she said, ‘You’re not going to give Mrs Jackson any pretty flowers, are you, poor thing?’

‘Fleur, Fleur – where are you?’ She heard Mrs Jackson calling from the back door. Not wanting to give away what she was growing in secret along the wall, Fleur quickly moved into the front garden, paused a moment to inspect the row of runner beans and then went around the house by the pathway.

‘Did you call?’ she asked innocently as she rounded the corner.

‘Oh, there you are, dear. Come in and listen to this on the wireless. We can’t believe it!’

‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Mrs Jackson beckoned. ‘Come and listen – you’ll never believe it.’ The old lady turned and hurried as fast as her legs would take her back to her seat beside the wireless. Harry was sitting in the chair on the other side and, as Fleur took off her boots and stepped into the kitchen, she saw the old couple, one on each side of the wireless, leaning towards it, straining to hear every word the news announcer was saying.

‘What’s happened?’ Fleur asked again, to be answered with a ’Shh’ from both of them.

Fleur listened but could make no sense of the final words of the bulletin and, as Mrs Jackson switched off the wireless, Fleur glanced at them in turn, the question on her face.

‘Old Adolf’s invaded Russia.’

‘Russia?’ Fleur was shocked. ‘Whatever for? I thought he’d signed a non-aggression pact with Stalin?’

‘He did. But he’s broken it.’

Fleur sank down into a chair. ‘But why? Russia’s a massive country with an army of millions. How can he hope to beat Russia?’

‘’Cos he’s a madman, that’s why. Mind you, it’ll probably be his downfall and while he’s busy fighting that lot he won’t be bothering us so much, now will he?’

Fleur wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. ‘Maybe not.’

‘If he tries to keep all his fronts going, he’ll be spread too thin, see.’ Harry stroked his moustache and beamed. ‘What we want is for the Yanks to come in. Then we’d really see the end of Hitler.’

‘I don’t think they will. It’s not their war, is it? You can’t really expect them to do any more than they’re doing,’ Fleur said reasonably. ‘I mean, I know we weren’t exactly being attacked when war was declared, but we were certainly on his agenda, weren’t we?’

‘Aye, aye, I see what you mean, lass. It’s just that – to my mind – with the might of America behind us, we couldn’t lose.’

Fleur grinned at him. ‘We can’t anyway.’

Harry smile was tinged with poignancy. ‘No, lass,’ he said and his voice was husky with emotion. ‘No, not whilst there’s youngsters like you about, we can’t lose.’

‘Well, this won’t get the hoeing done,’ she said getting up. ‘We’re all going to a dance in Lincoln tonight, so I’ll need a bit of time to get my glad rags on.’

As they climbed aboard the ’Liberty Bus’ to take them into the city that evening, the chatter was all about the invasion of Russia and how it might affect Britain.

‘It’s got to take the heat off us, surely.’

‘Well, I don’t mind a bit of a breather, ‘specially in September,’ Robbie remarked, putting his arm around Fleur’s shoulder. His statement was greeted with whistles and catcalls until Fleur blushed.

‘Where are we all going?’ she said, trying to divert attention from herself. ‘It’s too nice to sit in a cinema or a smoky dance hall, isn’t it?’

‘How about,’ Robbie suggested, ‘a row on the Brayford?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Tommy agreed. ‘We could have a race.’

‘Well, I’m popping home to see my folks,’ Ruth said. ‘But only for an hour or so. I’ll meet you down there later.’

‘Aw, come on, Ruth. Your folks won’t mind for once, will they?’ Robbie tried to persuade her.

‘I won’t be long, I promise.’

Robbie seemed disappointed. ‘Where do you want the bus to drop you, then?’

‘Monks Road near the school. I’ll walk down to the Brayford from there. I’ll only be about an hour.’

‘My goodness,’ Fleur exclaimed as they arrived beside the Brayford Pool. She shaded her eyes against the sun setting over the smooth expanse of water, the tall warehouses silhouetted against the golden glow. Sitting on a wall, three young boys dangled homemade fishing rods in the water. ‘I’ve never been down here before. Oh, and look at all the barges. It’s lovely.’

Boats were hired and soon everyone was out on the wide pool and heading towards where the Pool narrowed into the Fossdyke.

There was much shouting to one another and laughter and banter. A race of sorts developed until the airmen rowing decided the competition wasn’t worth the risk of aching muscles the next day and they all rowed leisurely towards a pub set a little way back from the bank.

‘We should have waited for Ruth,’ Fleur said regretfully. ‘She won’t bring a boat out on her own.’

‘Don’t expect she’ll be on her own,’ Robbie said cheerfully.

‘Really? Why? Do you know something I don’t?’ Fleur felt a little miffed. Ruth was her friend. Her best friend. Surely . . . ?

‘You’ll see,’ was all Robbie would say.

Fleur lay back in the prow of the boat and trailed her hand in the water that shimmered with a myriad of colours in the setting sun. Through half-closed eyes she could see the fields on either side of the water and the cathedral standing proudly on the hill bathed in golden light.

The war and all its turmoil seemed miles away.