Bluebirds Read online

  They went on spying on the dancers. This was a rather different affair from the Sergeants’ Mess evening, Anne saw. Far more decorous. Nobody was dancing like Stan with his Palais gliding. There was a good deal of pump handling and quartering the floor stiffly. Cynthia of the mink coat, she was pleased to see, was dancing with a portly squadron leader and looking extremely bored. What had happened to Johnnie who was rather keen and such fun?

  Pearl had edged her way a little further round the door post and a pilot officer, coming out, caught sight of her. He was a little drunk and blinked at her, confused.

  ‘I say, I know you, don’t I?’

  ‘I’m one of the WAAFS, sir.’

  He grinned at her triumphantly. ‘Knew I’d seen you somewhere before. I say, what about a dance?’

  ‘You’ll get me into trouble, sir,’ Pearl said demurely.

  ‘What? Oh, stuff and nonsense! It’s Christmas, or jolly nearly. No-one’ll notice.’

  Pearl winked back over her shoulder as she was led away. Anne stayed by the doorway, watching. Nobby Clarke was on the home straight now, clinging soulfully to the microphone.

  Two officers had appeared from behind her and were standing in the doorway. She moved back but they seemed oblivious of her presence so close by. The tall one, nearer to her, leaned against the doorpost, hands in his pockets. The back view of fair hair reaching almost to the collar was familiar and Anne was sure that this was the driver of the green sports car that had almost knocked her down. She was not surprised, when he spoke, to hear that it was in a languid drawl.

  ‘I say, poor old Cynthia’s got herself stuck with some frightfully stodgy type. Looks as bored as hell. Go and do the decent thing and rescue her, Willy, there’s a good chap.’

  The other one laughed. ‘You go, old boy. You’re welcome to her. Absolute bloody nympho, if you ask me. I’d sooner not have it thrust at me.’

  ‘Still, gift horses and all that . . .’

  ‘Speaking of horses, given or otherwise, old Cynthia’s definitely getting a bit long in the tooth, you know. Past thirty, I’d say.’

  ‘Good lord, is she? Doesn’t look it, I’ll give her that. Not that I’ve ever actually seen her in the light of day. Last time I saw her at some party she looked all right to me, though I was a bit pissed so I can’t remember much about it. I say, what on earth’s that girl doing in here?’

  Pearl and her pilot officer had come into view.

  ‘What girl?’

  ‘The fat one with that awful dyed red hair, dancing with Goofy whatsisname. What the hell does he think he’s doing?’

  ‘Foxtrotting, I’d say, by the looks of it. Rather well, actually.’

  ‘I don’t mean that Willy. What’s he doing with that girl? She’s a waitress.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A waitress. Serves in the Mess. She’s one of those Women’s Auxiliary thingummybobs. They wear those RAF shirts.’

  ‘You sure, old boy?’

  ‘Positive. She nearly spilled the soup in my lap, that’s how I remember her. Never notice them otherwise. It was that tinned tomato stuff they dish up – missed me by a whisker or I might never’ve been the same man again. Bloody hot, you know. She should be in the kitchens, or somewhere.’

  ‘Shouldn’t worry, old chap, there must be an officer in charge. She’ll soon chuck her out. I saw a damned attractive one the other day, as a matter of fact. I always think uniform’s pretty sexy on a woman . . .’

  ‘I’d steer bloody clear of the lot of them, Willy, if I were you. You don’t know where they’ve been. Give ’em a wide berth and stick to your own kind.’

  ‘Careful what you say . . . I think there might be one of them standing right behind you, looking absolute daggers at us.’

  The fair head turned briefly and without interest in Anne’s direction. ‘Is there? God, they’re everywhere.’

  The shorter, darker one laughed. ‘I say, Johnnie, if looks could kill you, you’d be a dead man.’

  ‘That’ll teach her to eavesdrop. Come on, Willy, we’d better go and do our stuff. I suppose I’ll have to dance with Cynthia. God, what a bore! Did I tell you about that girl I met at Sonny’s, by the way? She was the most incredible lay. Game for anything. I’ve asked her down next weekend. Booked a room at the Mermaid . . .’

  The two men drifted away out of earshot. The band’s tempo had speeded up and Nobby had exchanged his soulful expression for a roguish grin.

  You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .

  So that, Anne thought glowering, was Johnnie who was such fun and too divine for words, and Willy who was frightfully amusing. She did not find either of them either divine or remotely amusing. On the contrary. Pearl reappeared, flushed with triumph.

  ‘Bloomin’ nuisance . . . I was just getting along like a house on fire with that bloke when Newman shows up dancing with some officer and I have to scarper pretty quick before she sees me. She was all togged up in a civvy frock and I didn’t recognize her at first. Don’t think she spotted me, though. Hey, what’re you looking so pissed off about. What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve just seen the two those London women were talking about . . . Johnnie and Willy, or whoever they are. They were standing right here in front of me for a while.’

  ‘What were they like?’

  ‘Utterly revolting. They were quite sickeningly pleased with themselves. I could hear every word they were saying and I can tell you they were bloody rude about us WAAFS – at least, the one called Johnnie was. I was just about to tell him exactly what I thought of him when they moved off.’

  ‘Lucky you didn’t, duckie. You’d’ve been in more trouble. Mustn’t cheek officers – remember.’

  ‘It would’ve been worth it . . . what a creep!’

  Pearl took hold of Anne’s arm firmly. ‘Come on, we’d best get back to our post before anything else happens. Forget those two sods. Let’s go and try on some more furs.’

  Speedy was manoeuvring Felicity rather erratically round the floor.

  ‘Speedy, this is meant to be a foxtrot.’

  ‘Good lord, is it? Thought it was a waltz. Damn silly name for a dance anyway. Foxes trot jolly quickly. If they mooned about like this they’d get clobbered every time. Sorry, got your toe then. Are you enjoying this caper?’

  ‘Dancing with you? Or the evening?’

  ‘Both. But specially dancing with me.’

  ‘I’m enjoying both, as it happens, though I won’t go on doing so if you tread on my foot like that again.’

  ‘I’ll try my hardest not to, I swear. Not really my line, dancing, as you may have noticed . . . You know, that frock you’re wearing suits you like anything.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘First time I’ve seen you out of uniform and it knocked me sideways, I can tell you. Mind you, the old uniform suits you too. Fact is, anything would suit you. What’s it made of?’

  ‘The uniform? It’s the same as yours, I think.’

  ‘No, I mean the frock. It’s jolly pretty stuff . . . soft and it clings in all the right places.’

  ‘It’s georgette.’

  ‘Ah, that reminds me. George is on standby to be your chaperone any evening this week. So, which one is it to be?’

  ‘Honestly, Speedy, I don’t think it’s a good idea –’

  ‘So you said before, Company Assistant Newman, and I told you that old George is the perfect answer to a maiden’s worry.’

  ‘Actually, it’s Assistant Section Officer now, not Company Assistant. They’ve changed the name.’

  ‘What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’

  ‘Another of Mr Snodgrass’s favourites?’

  ‘Definitely. You can’t beat the Bard, Snodders used to say – many a time and oft. Nothing like him for the apt phrase. Amazing when you think about it, isn’t it? Three hundred years back and yet the old boy still puts his finger on it . . . if you see what I mean.’

  ‘I thin
k I do.’

  ‘Romeo and Juliet, if I’m not mistaken. Now that’s romantic stuff, if you like. Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Damn good. I’m not sure where the fellow is, though.’

  ‘He was listening below the balcony.’

  ‘Was he? Poor show that. He shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves.’

  ‘He did, in this case.’

  ‘So he did. I remember now. It was his name she was going on about. Always thought that a bit odd, you know. Rum sort of bloke, smelling of roses.’

  Felicity laughed. ‘Speedy, this is supposed to be a quickstep now. They’ve changed the tune.’

  ‘Glad you noticed. Shall we walk a little faster, said the whiting to the snail . . . I say, there’s a porpoise close behind us, all right. Lucky I didn’t tread on his tail. Our revered and respected Station Master is at hand . . . don’t look now. He’s tripping the light fantastic with some old duck. Bet he wishes he was dancing with you. What are you making that face for?’

  ‘He’s not revered by me.’

  ‘What’s he done now? Eaten a WAAF for breakfast?’

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. On toast, probably. He hates having us here. He thinks we just get in the way. I’m only here on sufferance this evening.’

  ‘Bad show. I can’t think why they won’t let you eat in the Mess, same as the rest of us. If I had my way, you’d sit next to me every day and then I’d eat up all my greens, like a good boy. Whoops, sorry old man . . . didn’t see you there. That wasn’t him, I’m thankful to say.’

  ‘We’re second class. Third class, actually. He doesn’t believe we’re capable of more than cooking and cleaning and filling in forms. He told me so the first day I arrived here.’

  ‘Oh, he’ll soon learn. He’s one of the old guard, that’s his trouble. Getting on a bit and stuck in his ways. As a matter of fact, he’s not such a bad chap, you know, when he’s in a good mood.’

  ‘When does he ever have a good mood?’

  ‘Oh, when the moon is full. Actually, I’ve seen him positively jovial at some of the Mess nights. Life and soul of the party.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘’Tis all the cares and weight of responsibility that make him seem so unfriendly. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, and all that . . . There you are, the Bard once again. I told you, he always hits the nail on the head. I see our First Lady is running true to form this evening. Dancing with all the millionaires in turn.’

  Felicity watched as Mrs Palmer passed them in the arms of one of the Croesus Squadron pilots. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing up into his face.

  ‘Are they really all millionaires in that squadron, Speedy?’

  ‘Bit of an exaggeration, I suppose, but most of them are pretty stinking rich, I’d say. Fresh meat for her. Different breed from us RAF Regulars, the Weekend chaps. She’ll go through them like a dose of salts.’

  ‘Speedy, you shouldn’t say such things.’

  ‘’Tis true, ’tis pity; And pity ’tis ’tis true. The Bard again! There’s no end to his wisdom. Oh lord, was that your toe again . . .?’

  At the end of the evening he insisted on walking back to her quarters with her.

  ‘No officer should allow a lady to return home unaccompanied. Rule two thousand and fifty-three, King’s Regulations.’

  ‘I’m an officer, too, remember. And quite capable of going home alone.’

  ‘This evening you’re a lady – you danced with me, so you must be – and it’s my solemn duty to protect you.’

  Walking across the darkened camp from the Officers’ Mess, he took her arm.

  ‘Wouldn’t want you to trip over something.’

  ‘Actually, I can see quite well with my torch, Speedy.’

  ‘You can’t be too careful, though. Supposing you broke an ankle . . . jolly inconvenient.’

  Unknown to Felicity, all kinds of thoughts were chasing themselves inside the young pilot’s head. She was not to know that he was falling deeply in love with her and that he hardly knew how to cope with the unaccustomed feeling. He was afraid that he stood little chance with her. He knew that he amused her and could make her laugh by playing the fool, but he could never be the sort of bloke she must have been used to meeting at Cambridge. The clever sort of chap who could spout Goethe or recite the Iliad, not just pop off a few silly quotes. And yet, he reasoned hopefully to himself in the dark walking along beside her, some of those types must be bloody boring . . . And what’s more they couldn’t fly a fighter at three hundred miles an hour, bash all over the bloody skies and then cut the daisies upside down with nothing on the clock but the maker’s name. So far the old wings had never failed him. The thing was, though, he’d have to play his cards jolly carefully. One false move and it would all be over before it had even begun.

  Outside her quarters he released her arm decorously and then, in an inspired gesture, found her hand and raised it to his lips.

  ‘A fair good night, Assistant Section Officer. And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.’

  The gallant and respectful action touched and surprised Felicity. Even more surprising was the fact that he let go of her hand at once and walked away. She called after him.

  ‘Shakespeare again?’

  ‘Scott,’ came the answer out of the darkness.

  She watched the narrow beam of his torch bobbing away.

  ‘Good night, Speedy.’

  She thought she heard him whistling as he went.

  Four

  ‘THIS WAY, PLEASE, Miss Stratton.’

  Virginia hurried after the WAAF who strode ahead down a long and gloomy corridor. The Air Ministry building was busy with people moving about purposefully and she had to dodge between them to keep her guide in sight. A man carrying a bundle of files under his arm collided with her and one of the files slid to the floor, scattering its contents. He swore under his breath as he crawled about retrieving the papers and Virginia, stammering her apologies, tried to help him. Her guide was fast disappearing down the end of the corridor, marching on briskly without a backward glance, and in panic Virginia thrust a handful of the papers at the man and scurried after her.

  She was shown into a big, high-ceilinged room with a desk under the window. A grey-haired RAF officer with a line of ribbons on his chest was seated behind the desk, writing something, and a WAAF officer, also grey-haired, sat a little to one side of him. It was several moments before the RAF officer looked up and spoke.

  ‘Sit down, please.’

  Neither of them smiled at her as she took her place awkwardly on the chair in front of the desk. The man stared at her through horn-rimmed spectacles and his eyes were two cold blue spheres behind the thick glass lenses.

  He clasped his hands before him on the desk top, interlacing the fingers. ‘You have asked to be considered for Special Duties, Miss Stratton. Can you tell us why?’

  She had no idea what to reply. The whole idea had been suggested to her, not the other way round. In the silence the two of them watched her and waited without expression. More than ever she regretted the day when she had found the courage to go back to the recruiting department, which had led her to this moment. The WAAF officer there had been enthusiastic. She had asked some strange questions, apparently to some particular purpose, wanting to know whether Virginia was quick to learn things, whether she would stay calm in a crisis, whether she could keep a secret . . . She must have given her the right answers because at the end of the interview the WAAF officer had smiled at her with approval.

  ‘I’m going to recommend you to train as a Special Duties Clerk. No good asking me what that is – it’s too hush-hush. The only thing I can tell you is that you’ll be doing one of the most vital jobs in the WAAF – if you’re accepted. You’ll be hearing from us soon about an interview.’

  When the letter had arrived she had hidden it away from her mother. Dear Miss Stratton, You are instructed to report at eleven hu
ndred hours . . .

  ‘We’re waiting, Miss Stratton.’

  The RAF officer was still staring at her. In her nervousness she let her handbag slip off her lap onto the floor. She bent to retrieve it, blushing, and clutched it closely against her body.

  ‘I was told I might be suitable for the work.’

  ‘And do you consider that you would be suitable, Miss Stratton?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. I don’t know what is required.’

  ‘Then let me enlighten you. These qualities would be required of you: intelligence, alertness, integrity, the ability to think quickly, devotion to duty and absolute reliability. Do you think you can offer all these?’

  ‘I think I have some of them, at least . . . I can only say that I would do my best.’

  ‘Unfortunately your best might not be good enough, Miss Stratton.’

  The WAAF officer spoke now in an equally stern voice. ‘There is another quality needed . . . are you capable of keeping secrets?’

  She could answer this quite firmly. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because if you’re the sort of girl who’s likely to go round blabbing and gossiping then you’ll be no good to us at all. If we decide to take you on then you must tell no-one at all about your work or what it involves – and that means no-one. Not your parents, or your family, not your boyfriend or any other friends – not even other WAAFs. Nobody at all. Do you understand?’

  Virginia nodded. Now the RAF officer spoke again. He was looking at her as though he had no confidence in her at all.

  ‘Women are prone to gossip, as we all know. Why should you be any different?’

  She cast a look of appeal towards the WAAF officer but there was no help there.

  ‘I don’t really know, sir.’

  ‘You don’t seem very sure about anything, do you, Miss Stratton?’

  She was silent. Tears were pricking her eyes and she blinked quickly. The officer had unclasped his hands and was looking at the papers in front of him, turning them over.

  ‘You are completely British by birth and parentage?’

  She swallowed to steady her voice. ‘Yes, sir.’