“You’re joking!” Maitland said.
“I told you the Major’d pull it off,” Camberley said, “even if it is a bit late. I’m afraid you’ve missed all the fun, Kent.”
“If you were stationed in Oxford,” Reed said, “then you must know-”
“Never mind that,” Talbot said, coming in in a bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a towel. “I want to see what you got. Pink? Oh, no, I look dreadful in pink. It washes me out so. Still,” she said, snatching it up, “it’ll be better than the Yellow Peril for Saturday.”
“You’re not wearing it Saturday,” Camberley said. “I risked life and limb going up against those St. John’s girls. I get to wear it first.”
“Evening frocks are in short supply,” Fairchild explained, “so we all share. We’ve been making do with the Yellow Peril and the dress Sutcliffe-Hythe wore for her presentation at court. We dyed it lavender, but it came out rather streaky.”
“It can only be worn to very dark nightclubs,” Reed said.
“But I must wear the pink,” Talbot said. “It’s the Ritz. I’ve already worn the Yellow Peril there twice.”
“Who’s taking you to the Ritz?” Reed demanded.
“I’m not certain yet. Possibly Captain Johnson.”
“Johnson?” Reed asked. “Is he the handsome one with the dashing mustache?”
“No,” Talbot said, holding the pink frock up against her and looking at it in the mirror. “He’s the American one with access to the PX,” and Mary should have been delighted with the conversation. It was a perfect example of pre-rocket ambulance-post life. But why hadn’t they heard about the V-1? Surely one of the Bethnal Green ambulance crew would have mentioned it.
Don’t be silly, they weren’t there, she told herself. They’d have been up since half past four, administering first aid and transporting victims-there’d been six casualties-to hospital. They wouldn’t have then gone blithely off to a clothing exchange.
But even if they hadn’t been there, surely someone would have mentioned hearing an explosion. Or the siren, if, as Fairchild said, they hadn’t heard one for months. Unless, she thought, watching the FANYs pass around the pink frock and a pair of worn dancing slippers they’d obtained, they’d been so intent on finding clothes that they hadn’t spoken to anyone else?
“Haviland was there, and you’ll never guess what she told me,” Maitland said. “Do you remember Captain Ward? We met him at that canteen dance-dark wavy hair? Well, Haviland said he’s mad about me, but he’s been afraid to ask me out.”
“I was able to find you a lipstick,” Reed was saying to Talbot. “Crimson Caress.” She handed her a gold tube.
“Thank goodness,” Talbot said, taking off the cap and twisting it up to reveal a startling shade of dark red. “Mine was down to nothing. Did you get the black gloves?”
“No, but Healey and Baker were there, and they said their post is putting on a ragbag in July and that they’re certain they saw a pair in among the donations. They told me they’d save them for us.”
“What’s Bethnal Green’s post doing putting on a ragbag?” Fairchild asked.
“It’s to raise funds for a new ambulance,” Maitland said.
“Oh, no, don’t let the Major find out, or she’ll have us doing one,” Talbot moaned, but Mary scarcely heard her. Bethnal Green’s FANYs had been there.
Could I have got the date the V-1 assault began wrong? she wondered, but the times and locations had been implanted straight from the historical records. But if the V-1 had hit the railway bridge, how could they have failed to mention it?
“Look,” Reed was saying. “I got a pair of beach san-” She stopped, listening. “I think I heard a motor,” she said, darted out of the room, and returned. “The Major’s back.”
It might as well have been an air-raid siren. Reed and Camberley scooped up the clothes and swept them out of the room. Fairchild lunged for the phonograph, unplugged it, slammed down the lid, and thrust it into Maitland’s hands. “Take this back to the common room,” she ordered, and as Maitland left, wriggled into the jacket of her uniform. “Kent, hand me the Film News. Quick,” she said, buttoning her jacket.
Mary dived to unwedge the rolled-up magazine propping open the door and hand it to Fairchild, who jammed it into a file cabinet drawer, then leaped back to the desk just in time to sit down and then stand up again as the Major entered.
From all the comments, Mary had been expecting a gorgon, but the Major was a small, slight woman with delicate features and only slightly graying hair. When Mary saluted and said, “Lieutenant Mary Kent, reporting for duty, ma’am,” she smiled kindly and said in a quiet voice, “Welcome, Lieutenant.”
“I was just showing her round the post,” Fairchild said.
“That can wait. Assemble the girls in the common room. I have an announcement to make,” the Major said. Which meant the V-1s had hit on schedule after all, and the Bethnal Green FANYs, like the Coastal Defence officer, had been ordered not to say anything till an official announcement had been made. Which the Major was about to do.
And in the meantime she’d had the chance, in spite of having arrived late, to observe a cross-section of life at the post-a life which was about to change radically. It was already changing. The girls’ solemn expressions as they gathered in the common room showed they knew something was up. Talbot had combed out her wet hair and got into uniform, and Fairchild had pinned her pigtails to the top of her head. They all stood at attention as the Major entered. “We are now entering a new and critical phase of the war,” she said. “I have just returned from a meeting at headquarters-”
Here it comes.
“-where our unit received a new assignment. As of tomorrow, we will be charged with transporting soldiers wounded in the Normandy invasion to Orpington Hospital for surgery.”
Coughs and sneezes spread diseases
Warwickshire-May 1940
IT TOOK EILEEN NEARLY AN HOUR TO FILL UP THE THREE evacuees’ paperwork for Mrs. Chambers, partly because Theodore announced he wanted to go home every thirty seconds. So do I, Eileen thought. And if you hadn’t arrived, I’d be back in Oxford now, persuading Mr. Dunworthy to send me to VE-Day.
“I don’t want to go home,” Edwina, the elder girl, said. She looked as though she’d fit right in with Binnie. “I want to go in a boat like we was supposed to.”
“I want to go to the toilet,” Susan, the younger one, said. “Now.”
Eileen took her upstairs, then came back down to sign several more forms. “Do tell her ladyship thank you for all her hard work,” Mrs. Chambers said, putting on her gloves. “Her dedication to the war effort is truly inspiring.”
Eileen saw her out, then sent the children outside to play, took their luggage upstairs to the nursery, and ran up to her room for the third time. She changed out of her uniform, arranged the letter about her mother’s illness and its envelope on the bed, and hurried downstairs. Ten past three. Good. The other children wouldn’t be home from school till four, which meant she could take the road. She hurried around the corner of the house to the drive.
“Look out!” a man’s voice called, and she looked up to see the Austin bearing down on her with the vicar in it and with-oh, no- Una at the wheel. Eileen leaped aside.
“No, the brake, the brake!” the vicar shouted, “That’s the wrong-” and the Austin shot forward, straight at Eileen. Una flung her hands up, like someone drowning. “Don’t let go of the-” the vicar shouted, grabbing for the steering wheel. The Austin slewed wildly sideways, grazing the skirt of Eileen’s coat, and screeched to a halt mere inches from the manor. He leaped out. “Are you all right?” he said, racing over to Eileen. “You’re not hurt, are you?”