‘Yes, Charlie, of course I understand why Daphne won’t be coming with you, with her own mother not being very well, but I must warn you that Mummy is bound to be disappointed. You know how much she thinks of Daphne.’ Bella Polanski pushed the thick waves of her golden-blonde hair back from her face as she spoke patiently but firmly into the telephone receiver. Her blue eyes were shadowed with disappointment as she assured her younger brother that she had got the message that his visit to Wallasey would be a solo affair.
Privately, Bella acknowledged later, she wished that Charlie was going to be accompanied by his wife, even though that would have meant Bella giving up the comfort of her double bed to Charlie and his wife, leaving her to sleep in the boxroom’s single bed, and even though she and Daphne had never been close. And it wasn’t for her mother’s sake either that she would have preferred Charlie not to have returned home alone. Vi had been puffed up with pride when Charlie had announced that he was to marry Daphne Wrighton-Bude, the girl whose brother Charlie had rescued at Dunkirk but who had sadly not survived his injuries, and their father had rewarded Charlie very handsomely financially for his good sense in marrying a girl from such a good family. Not that Charlie was likely to get any money out of their father now that he had left their mother for his assistant, Pauline. Vi had been over the moon when Charlie had told her that he and Daphne were expecting their first child, but then just after Bella and Jan had married had come the sad news that there was not to be a baby after all. Bella, having suffered a miscarriage herself during her own first marriage, had written immediately to Daphne but the only reply she had received had been a frosty little note from Daphne’s mother acknowledging her own letter.
From her small office at the nursery, it was impossible for her to see out into the nursery itself but she didn’t have to do that to be able to visualise the look of tenderness on Lena’s face as she worked with their small charges.
The best thing she had ever done, aside from marrying Jan, had been to listen to her conscience the day she had seen Lena in the street in Liverpool, distraught and heavily pregnant with her brother, Charlie’s illegitimate baby. Moved by the young girl’s plight, Bella had taken her home with her. Out of that one act of compassion had grown a friendship that had turned Bella’s own life around. Lena was happy now, a proud mother of Bella’s adored niece, a happy wife to Gavin, a mother-to-be to his own baby, and Bella’s right hand and a highly valued member of Bella’s loyal team of nursery nurses. After their marriage Bella had offered her own house to Lena and Gavin and had moved back to live with her mother. She’d been delighted when Lena and Gavin had married and Bella felt that the last thing they needed now was for Charlie to reappear on the scene to start making trouble in that way that he had.
On the other hand, Bella also knew how much it would mean to her mother to see Charlie, especially when Charlie himself had hinted to Bella during his telephone call that he expected to be sent into action soon.
She would have to tell Lena about his proposed visit, of course.
She found Lena in the day room of the nursery, soothing one of their new intake of little ones, who had woken up from her afternoon nap confused by her surroundings. Small and curvaceous, with olive-toned skin and thick dark hair, Lena was strikingly attractive, her looks and colouring a perfect foil for Bella’s peaches-and-cream beauty.
The nursery was a light airy place, with two large main rooms, a day room, and a sleeping room where the children could have their afternoon naps. The walls of the day room were painted bright yellow and decorated with the children’s drawings. High chairs for the babies were pushed back against one of the walls, ready to be pulled up to the scrubbed wooden table where the children ate their meals, whilst there were proper chairs for the older children, and four deep comfy armchairs for the staff to sit in when they settled down to read the children their afternoon story, or give some upset child a special reassuring cuddle.
Lena, who was sitting in one of these, had settled the toddler on her lap to dry her tears. She looked up at Bella with a warm smile.
‘You aren’t going to be able to do that for much longer,’ Bella warned her. ‘You won’t have enough room.’
Lena laughed and looked down at the swelling beneath her navy-blue cotton maternity smock, with its white Peter Pan collar and pretty bow.
‘He doesn’t like it at all when I put one of the babies on my knee. He kicks away at them like billy-o.’
‘He?’ Bella teased her, her own pre-war floral cotton dress slightly loose on her slender frame, thanks to the rigours of rationing. Bending down to lift the now smiling toddler from Lena’s lap and watching her whilst she toddled off happily to join a group of children who were playing with some wooden building blocks, she reminded Lena, ‘You were sure that Janette was going to be a boy but you were wrong.’
‘Yes, I know, but I’m really sure this time that it’s going to be a boy.’
It would certainly probably be a good thing if Lena and Gavin’s baby were a boy, Bella reflected. Gavin was a wonderful father to Lena’s little girl and adored her, but Bella felt privately that there would be less chance of comparisons being made between the child that Charlie had fathered, and the one that was Gavin’s own, if this next baby was a boy.
Thinking of Charlie reminded her of why she had come to find Lena.
‘I’ll go and make us both a cup of tea, shall I?’ Lena suggested, starting to get to her feet, but Bella stopped her, shaking her head.
‘There’s something I want to tell you.’
Immediately Lena’s face lit up. ‘You’ve started a baby,’ she challenged Bella excitedly. ‘You and Jan. Oh, Bella, I’m so pleased.’
‘No, it isn’t that. It’s Charlie. He’s coming home this weekend. He told me that he’s expecting to be sent into action soon and that he wanted to come up and see Mummy.’
They exchanged understanding looks.
‘You’ll want to tell Gavin, of course,’ Bella went on, ‘although I don’t think you’re likely to run into Charlie. He’s bound to want to give you a wide berth after the way he’s behaved.’
‘It wasn’t his fault that I was daft enough to think he wanted to marry me when all he wanted was a good time.’
‘It was his fault that he didn’t tell you that he was already engaged to be married, Lena.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Lena assured her. ‘In many ways I reckon he did me a favour.’
‘A favour? When he left you carrying his child?’ Bella protested.
‘Well, if it hadn’t been for me being pregnant I’d never have got to meet you, and look at all the things you’ve done for me, Bella – giving me a home and a job, and being such a good friend to me. If it wasn’t for you I’d never have met Gavin, and I’d probably have come to a bad end instead of being married to the best husband a girl could have, and having the best friend in the world. Don’t you worry about me accidentally bumping into your Charlie. If I did, I’d tell him how lucky I reckon I am.’
‘Oh, Lena, you’re a real tonic and no mistake,’ Bella laughed.
‘Hug, Auntie Bella, hug.’
The sound of her niece’s voice had Bella going immediately towards the little girl to pick her up and cuddle her close. She smelled of that lovely vanilla and baby powder scent, and Bella’s hold on her tightened as she breathed it in.
Lena’s innocent comment about Bella being pregnant herself had caused a little ache deep inside her body. Once she had been going to have a child, but because of her first husband’s physical assault on her she had lost that baby. Jan had been there then to help her, although then she had believed she hated him.
They had talked during the brief time they had shared together before Jan had had to rejoin his Polish RAF Squadron down on the South Coast, and Bella had told Jan then that she didn’t want to have a baby until the war was over, and until he could be with her.
‘I’m so afraid, Jan,’ she had confessed to him. ‘After what happened before. I couldn’t bear that to happen again.’
‘It won’t. It was Alan who caused your miscarriage,’ he had tried to reassure her.
‘I know that, but I’m still afraid. I need you to be there with me – I need your strength. Somehow I feel that if you are there then everything will be all right…our baby will be all right,’ Bella had told him.
Jan had kissed her then and she had kissed him back, and he had told her that everything would be as she wished. She knew she had made the right decision, but that couldn’t stop her aching with longing to feel Jan’s child growing inside her. It wouldn’t be long now until the war ended. Everyone said so. All she had to do was wait.
Wait and pray that Jan would come safely through it. Bella hugged her niece even more tightly. The Polish Squadron within the RAF had a reputation for bravery and daring. Jan had already been shot down once whilst in action. If she should lose him…but she mustn’t think of that. She must think instead of doing her own bit for the war effort, of playing her part and, of course, of dealing with the fuss her mother would make once she learned that Charlie was going to pay them a visit but that Daphne would not be with them.
So Charlie was coming home. Lena put a calming hand on her stomach as the baby within it kicked hard as though in protest against the intrusion into her thoughts of someone else. Lena looked down at her daughter. She was a beautiful little girl with the same dark curls that Lena herself had inherited from her Italian father, but where Lena’s skin had a faintly olive tone to it, Janette was fair-skinned and blue-eyed. Everyone who saw the three of them together remarked on the fact that whilst her daughter’s hair was the same colour as Lena’s own, her eyes were the same colour as her father, Gavin’s. Only of course Gavin had not fathered her at all, even if she called him Daddy and the two of them adored one another. Charlie had fathered her. Charlie, whom Lena had so naïvely and foolishly believed loved her and had meant what he had said when he had promised to marry her.
How silly she had been giving her heart and her body so immediately to Charlie. She was much wiser now, and with this new baby on the way she had everything she could possibly want.
So why did the fact that Charlie was coming home make her feel so restless and…on edge? A sudden flurry of kicks from the baby punished her for her thoughts and reminded her of where her duty lay. She was so lucky to have what she did, Lena told herself. So very lucky.
Katie enjoyed her voluntary work at the American Red Cross’s home from home for the American military at Rainbow Corner in Leicester Square, although she had to admit that it could be very demanding, especially on evenings like this one, when she was running late. She’d earned herself a disapproving look from the senior voluntary worker in charge on the reception area as she’d hurried in and made a dash for the cloakroom, where she’d removed her blue blazer and her neat white hat with its navy-blue bow trimming.
There’d be no chance of begging five minutes to snatch a hot drink and something to eat, Katie thought ruefully, quickly dabbing Max Factor powder onto her nose and then applying a fresh coat of pink lipstick, before combing her soft dark gold curls. Working at the Postal Censorship Office did not require her to wear a uniform, and the warmth of the September sunshine had meant that she had gone to work this morning wearing a neat white blouse under her precious ‘good’ blazer, and a red skirt with a pattern of white daisies on it, not really thinking about the significance of the colours until a small group of British Army high-ups had passed her when she left work, one of them commenting approvingly, ‘Red, white and blue, eh? Jolly good show, young lady. That’s the spirit.’
It was almost miraculous how things had changed since El Alamein and the Allies’ success. The air of tension and anxiety that had filled London’s streets like the dust from its bombed-out buildings had begun to lift, to be replaced by a sense of energy and optimism. The years of sacrifice, both in terms of human life and going without, of having faith and holding strong, were finally beginning to pay off. You could see it in the pride with which everyone was beginning to hold themselves, especially those in uniform, even if the shadow of Dunkirk and all the losses that had followed it were still there.
Victory – it was so close that you could almost taste it, almost…inside your thoughts, in your conversations with others, but it wasn’t real yet, and there were still hundreds, thousands, perhaps, of young men who would have to sacrifice their lives before it could be achieved.
Some of those young men would be those who were here tonight in the Rainbow Club, Katie knew: eager, enthusiastic, brash young Americans, come to show the Brits how to win a war and not in the least abashed about saying so either.
They didn’t mean any harm, not really. They just didn’t realise the effect their well-fed, smartly turned-out appearance had on a nation that had undergone four years of warfare and rationing. And it wasn’t just Britain’s armed forces that some Americans seemed to look down on. There had been more than one occasion on which Katie’s face had burned with indignation and anger over the way she had heard American servicemen describing British girls, although to be fair she had to admit that the behaviour of some girls did leave a lot to be desired.
At night the streets round Piccadilly were filled with girls offering GIs ‘a good time’; couples openly having sex in doorways and whatever dark corner they could find, with the result that used condoms littered the streets, whilst, according to the authorities, venereal diseases were on the rise.
All this was to be deplored, and it was strictly forbidden for the young women who were judged suitable to work at Rainbow Corner to get involved in relationships with the Americans they met there.
Of course, there were girls who broke that rule, although Katie wasn’t one of them. Not that the young GIs hadn’t tried to date her – they had. Katie, though, always refused. She didn’t want to get involved – with anyone.
A sudden influx of young airmen brought an end to her introspection.
‘Boy, oh boy, it smells good in here,’ one of them remarked enthusiastically, breathing in appreciatively. ‘Coffee, doughnuts and hamburgers, Home sweet American Home.’
They’d arrived on one of the special trains put on to ferry American servicemen from their bases into London for their weekends off, and they were keen to let Katie know how they planned to spend their weekend.
‘Girls, girls and more girls – that’s what we want, isn’t it, guys?’ the one who was obviously the leader informed Katie, looking round at the others.
‘Sure is,’ they agreed in unison.
‘I’m afraid we can’t help you there,’ Katie responded lightly, ‘but if you’d like a map of London, or directions to anywhere…’
‘Yeah, we’ll have some directions to the nearest cat house,’ one of the men grinned.
Katie suspected that they’d already been drinking, but she didn’t really want to get them into trouble by calling for assistance. American GIs were meant to respect Rainbow Corner as though it were their home and occupied by their mother.
‘Why don’t you boys go and get yourselves a Coke and make yourselves at home?’ Katie suggested.
‘That ain’t what we’ve got in mind,’ drawled the one who had first spoken, leaning on the counter, breathing alcohol fumes in Katie’s direction, while the others gathered round him. ‘How about obliging us yourself? We don’t mind taking it in turns, do we, guys?’
Some more men had walked in and had obviously overheard the comment. One of them – an officer, Katie guessed from the insignia on his uniform – walked over to the desk with a grim expression and announced curtly, ‘We don’t treat the kind folks, who are good enough to give up their free time to make us welcome, like that, Soldier, and I suggest you apologise to the lady right now, otherwise I’m gonna be calling the MPs.’
One look at the officer had an immediate sobering effect on the small group.
‘Yessss, sir,’ the culprit stammered as he stood up straight and saluted, a shamed-faced, ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ crossing the desk, before, to Katie’s relief, the young men disappeared at some speed, into the club.
‘Thank you for that,’ she told her rescuer.
He shook his head, his mouth tightening into a grim line.
‘You shouldn’t have had to thank me,’ he told her bluntly. ‘Do you get much of that kind of behaviour?’
‘No,’ Katie told him truthfully.
‘I’m afraid that some of these young idiots try to treat this country as though they’re an invading force, not its ally,’ the officer commented.
Katie smiled but didn’t say anything. What he had said was, after all, true.
A younger officer came hurrying in saluting her rescuer.
‘The general’s car has arrived, sir.’
‘I’ll be right with you,’ Katie’s rescuer answered him, looking back at her. ‘I’m sorry you had to put up with those young fools,’ he told her before turning on his heel to leave the building.
‘Wow, who was he?’ the other girl on the reception desk, who had been taking her break, demanded as she reappeared just in time to see Katie’s rescuer disappearing.
‘I don’t know,’ Katie answered.
‘Looked more like he should be mixing with the top brass at the American Embassy than coming here. That was a major’s insignia he was wearing.’
It was obviously one of those nights, Katie reflected later when she arrived back at the billet she shared with four ATS girls in Cadogan Square, to find Peggy Groves, the most sensible and senior of the young women, waiting anxiously in the kitchen, twisting her engagement ring round on her finger. Katie noticed her khaki uniform skirt was looser on the waist than it had been. Thanks to rationing, they were all quite literally having to ‘pull their belts’ in.
‘I’m waiting for Gerry to come in. I’ve decided that it’s time I had a word with her about the way she’s behaving. For her own sake, not just because it reflects on all of us.’ An anxious frown was creasing Peggy’s forehead. ‘I was working late at the War Office this evening and when I got back the retired colonel from three doors down collared me to complain about what he referred to as “our goings-on”.’
Peggy lit up a cigarette and drew deeply on it, the light from the kitchen’s ugly single bulb shining on her dark auburn hair. ‘If word of Gerry’s behaviour gets to Lord Cadogan’s ears, we could all end up looking for a new billet, and I can’t say that I would blame him. I know that Gerry’s always been a bit on the wild side and that she’s been through a hell of a lot, losing both her brothers this summer.’ Peggy gave a shudder and stubbed out her cigarette. ‘It’s the kind of news we all dread getting.’
Katie nodded. Gerry’s brothers had both been pilots with Bomber Command and everyone knew that the death rate amongst those who flew bombing missions to Germany was very high – higher than that amongst fighter pilots.
‘We’ve all tried to give her a bit of leeway and cut her some slack,’ Peggy continued. ‘If there’s one thing this war has taught me it’s not to judge others. Gerry isn’t the first girl to throw herself into living life to the full, with all that that means, following the death of someone close, and it’s not for me to stand in moral judgement on her. She’s a decent sort at heart, but she can’t keep carrying on the way she is doing, drinking too much and sleeping around with as many men as possible, coming in at all hours, and in the state she does, with torn stockings and her clothes not fastened properly.’
Katie knew what Peggy meant. They were all aware of the change the deaths of her brothers had caused in Gerry. Before, she had spoken openly about the fact that she liked a bit of fun, but now there was a desperation about her behaviour that worried them all.
‘Do you want some cocoa?’ Katie asked, going to fill the kettle.
Peggy nodded, and then frowned again as they heard someone knocking on the front door.
Without saying anything they hurried into the hallway, automatically switching off the lights as they did so, so as not to break the blackout laws.
When Peggy opened the door, Katie could see a couple of GIs supporting Gerry between them, a taxi with another GI standing beside it waiting at the kerb with its meter ticking.
‘Get a move on, you guys,’ the GI standing beside the taxi urged them. ‘We don’t want the MPs catching up with us again.’
His warning of the possible arrival of the Military Police was enough to have the two GIs let go of Gerry, who would have fallen headlong into the hallway if Katie and Peggy hadn’t caught her. She smelled of whisky, and something else – a rank sexual male odour that made Katie gag.
‘We’d better get her upstairs to her room,’ Peggy told Katie as they exchanged despairing looks.
It wasn’t easy. Gerry was so drunk that her limbs were like those of a rag doll, her speech confused, but eventually Katie and Peggy managed to get her into her room and onto her bed.
‘We’ll have to turn her onto her side, in case she’s sick in the night, otherwise she could choke,’ Peggy told Katie practically. ‘Come on, Gerry,’ Peggy instructed her firmly. ‘You’re going to have to sit up.’
‘Don’t want to sit up.’ Gerry told them. ‘Don’t want to do anything,’ but determinedly, and with Katie’s help, Peggy managed to get Gerry into a semi-sitting and much safer position.
‘I don’t really like leaving her on her own in this state, but I’ve got to be at the War Office earlier than usual tomorrow. There’s an important meeting taking place,’ Peggy confided to Katie, when Gerry fell asleep minutes after they had got her sitting up.
‘I’ll stay with her, if you like,’ Katie offered.
‘Would you?’ Peggy gave her a grateful look. ‘I know that strictly speaking it isn’t up to us to look out for her, but—’
‘We’re all in this war together,’ Katie stopped her. ‘I like Gerry and I feel sorry for her. She doesn’t really mean any harm.’
‘No, she doesn’t,’ Peggy agreed.
It was over two hours later when Gerry woke up, her attempt to stand waking Katie, who had been dozing in the chair beside her bed. Throwing off the thin grey blanket she had wrapped round herself, Katie got to her feet just in time to prevent Gerry from losing her balance.
‘Oh, Katie, it’s you. That’s funny,’ Gerry announced. ‘The last thing I remember is being with some GIs.’
‘Yes, they brought you back here,’ Katie agreed.
‘And you don’t approve. Oh, it’s all right, I can tell by the sound of your voice what you’re thinking.’ Gerry shivered. ‘I thought that by living I’d be able to make up for the fact that my brothers are dead; that if I had fun then I’d be having fun for all three of us. I wanted to live for all three of us, Katie, but I can’t. I can’t…’ Her voice broke and her body heaved with the intensity of the ragged sobs shaking her.
‘The more I try, the worse it gets, and the worse I feel. Sometimes I wish that I was dead as well. At least that way we’d all be together and my parents wouldn’t have to worry any more; they wouldn’t look at me and think that there should be three of us. It’s so hard there, just being me.’
Katie ached with sympathy and sadness for her.
‘Sometimes I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. Have you ever felt like that, Katie?’
All Katie could do was hug her tightly, but Gerry’s anguished outburst had filled her with concern, and she knew she had to say something.
Taking a deep breath she told Gerry quietly, as she released her, ‘I do understand how you feel and, well, I think I’d feel the same, but we can’t always just think of ourselves, Gerry.’
The other girl was looking at her now.
‘You are all your parents have left, Gerry. You are the future of your family. You and the children you will have, not just for yourself but for your brothers as well. Sometimes it takes more courage to live than it does to die. Your brothers were incredibly brave and I know that you can be just as brave.’
For a moment Katie thought she had done the wrong thing. Tears were pouring silently down Gerry’s face, but then Gerry flung herself into Katie’s arms.
‘I just don’t deserve a friend as good as you, Katie,’ she wept. ‘You’re right. The boys would be furious with me for being such a coward. From now on things are going to change. I am going to change.’
They hugged again, Katie close to tears herself.
Later on, as she stood in her own room, her hands wrapped round the comforting warmth of her mug of cocoa, Kate reflected sadly on the effect that the war was having on the emotions of young women, herself included. Some, like Gerry, sought escape from its harsh realities in drink and ‘having fun’; others, like Katie herself, avoided anything other than friendship with young men, for fear of the emotional pain of losing them, whilst women like Peggy Groves, engaged or married, prayed every night that their men would return home safely. If she and Luke Campion had still been engaged, she too would have been one of those waiting and praying and hoping against hope.
But she was not still engaged to Luke, Katie reminded herself. That was over and in the past, just like the despair she had suffered when Luke had first broken off their engagement. But ending it had been the right thing for both of them. As much as she had loved Luke – and she had – she had found his dark moods and jealousy difficult to cope with. The turbulence of her parents’ marriage had left her yearning for the calm of a love based more on the comfort provided by friendship than passion, Katie admitted, but she had not known herself well enough then to be able to see that. She had not known herself and she had not really known Luke either; they had never properly discussed themselves with one another. No, she no longer wept for their broken engagement or her own broken heart.
‘What do you reckon, Corp? Think we’re going to make it?’ Andy asked Luke as they kept their heads down, waiting for the landing craft they were on to get close enough to Salerno’s beachhead for them to disembark.
Luke and Andy had joined up virtually together, trained together, and fought together in the desert, and now here they were about to disembark onto Italian soil.
Their unit, along with the remnants of other British units, were now being deployed in Italy under the command of General Mark Clark, of the American Fifth Army, the aim, to break through the German defences and push all the way to Rome.
Right now, though, Luke reflected, as he tried not to let the screams and moans from a landing craft that had just been hit by a German shell, get through the protective wall that every soldier learned to draw around himself, for some odd reason it was Katie who was at the forefront of his mind. Determinedly he pushed her image away to focus on his men and his responsibility to them.
On the beach ahead of them men from the advanced landing craft had started up a smoke screen to protect the landing of the infantry and the equipment.
The sergeant in charge of their troop was giving the command for the men to make for the beach. Wading through churning water, Luke chivvied his own men on, ignoring the sight of a corpse floating in the sea next to them.
All along the landing area men were coming ashore, amid the cacophony of noise and the acrid smell and taste of smoke, and the enemy shells falling around them, to get their equipment safely beached, before starting to push inland, alongside 146th Field Regiment RA, which was now attached to the 7th Armoured Division.
‘Fighting this ruddy war certainly doesn’t get any easier,’ Andy found time to mutter, in an aside to Luke, as the men fell in and started to push forward. The first rule of any beach landing was that you got off the beach as fast as you could, and as far as the enemy would let you.
This time that distance wasn’t very far, a mile or so Luke reckoned, before all hell broke loose and they were under attack from the Germans.
She had done it. Lou felt like whooping with joy as she taxied her plane neatly to a standstill, after her tenth cross-country flight. This one had been the hardest of all: from Thame to the Castle Bromwich aircraft factory – the largest Spitfire factory in the country – surrounded on three sides by barrage balloons to protect it. Lou had not had to land on the airstrip there this time to avoid clogging it up when it was needed for the removal of Spits to the maintenance units. Instead she had been instructed to drop down almost to a landing height and then lift off again. As the barrage balloons stretched to the western side of the airstrip, all landings had to be made to the west and all take-offs had to be made to the east. Today, even with good visibility and a lightly buffeting wind, Lou had been aware of what a challenge it must be to perform those manoeuvres when weather conditions were unfavourable.
Lou had been glad she had listened to the advice of her instructor, Margery, who had told her to return via the maintenance units of Little Rissington, Kemble and Aston Down, where ultimately she would be expected to deliver the new Spitfires for their mechanical fitting out, and then Number 6 Ferry Pool at Ratcliffe before returning to Thame. Since the Fosse Way passed the boundary to Ratcliffe’s airstrip, once she had the road in her view, Lou had stuck with it, holding her breath when they had run into some unexpectedly low cloud.
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