A Song in my Heart Page 19

  When they came off shift in the early morning Sheila and Clemmie went straight to the NAAFI, where everyone was in high spirits and the talk was all about the Liberator and its crew.

  ‘Well, Sheila,’ said Clemmie, ‘how did that feel?’

  ‘I can’t describe it, my heart’s still racing. I never thought I’d feel like this. Oh Clemmie, this is why I wanted to join the WAAF – to do something that made a difference, something to bring an end to the war.’

  ‘Well, let’s get something to eat then we need to go to bed, because we have to do it all again tomorrow.’

  When Clemmie and Sheila had been on the night shift they would sometimes visit the little tea shop just outside the base in the afternoon. Most days it was crowded with RAF personnel, escaping the NAAFI to enjoy tea that wasn’t stewed and soda scones baked the same morning. Clemmie would often meet her boyfriend Brad, a Canadian pilot, there when they were off duty. Sheila wouldn’t normally have gone with her, but today Clemmie insisted. ‘You can’t lie on your bed all afternoon. Come on, it’ll be fun.’

  Sheila knew she should stay in the hut and write to Charles; he’d sent her three letters and she’d only replied to one. The trouble was that he could write about his love and how much he missed her – indeed he could make her blush with his passionate words – but try as she might she found it hard to express her own feelings. She jumped off the bed and grabbed her makeup bag. ‘Give me five minutes.’

  Brad was already there with another pilot when Clemmie and Sheila came in. He gave Clemmie a peck on the cheek then introduced his friend. ‘This is Philippe, he arrived last week. We trained together back home; never thought we’d both end up in Ireland, let alone at the same base.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Philippe, this is Clemmie and Sheila.’

  Philippe, leaning back in his chair with his flying jacket open, acknowledged them with a slight nod. His dark hair and olive skin gave him an exotic look, more Mediterranean than Canadian.

  ‘Where were you based before?’ asked Clemmie.

  ‘RAF Aldergrove but, now that your runway’s been extended, a few of us have transferred with the Liberators so we can be closer to the Atlantic.’ Sheila was curious about his accent; she’d have to ask Clemmie about that.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Brad, ‘and he’s not been here a week and he’s already bagged a U-boat!’

  ‘Wow!’ said Clemmie. ‘That was you, last night?’

  Sheila’s eyes widened. This was the airman whose plane she had plotted, the one she had prayed would make it back safely.

  ‘Call sign Panther,’ said Clemmie. ‘Hey, we were in the ops room – Sheila plotted your plane.’

  Philippe, his eyes dark and striking, winked at Sheila. ‘Looks like you brought me luck – merci.’

  She blushed under his gaze and was glad when, at that moment, the tea and scones arrived.

  Brad and Philippe talked of missions flown and narrow escapes and Clemmie happily listened and chipped in now and again. Sheila was conscious that she had very little to say and felt slightly intimidated by their easy banter and swapping of stories. So instead she surreptitiously studied Philippe. He was not particularly tall, but he was solid like a boxer and when he laughed he tipped his head back and his teeth were very white. His jaw was strong with a tinge of blueness as though he hadn’t shaved. She wondered how old he was. Early twenties probably, yet he could fly that huge plane out over the ocean to—

  ‘What do you think, Sheila?’

  They were looking at her, expecting an answer, but she had no idea of the question. Clemmie came to her rescue. ‘Next time we’ve all got Saturday night off we could go to the dance in the village. What do you think?’

  Sheila hesitated. ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Oh, it’ll be great fun – you’ve got to come,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘Okay, that’s settled then,’ said Brad and he stood up. ‘We’ve gotta go, there’s a briefing.’ But as the two pilots left, Sheila thought she caught a look of irritation on Philippe’s face, and he seemed to be having words with Brad.

  ‘What was the matter with you back there?’ asked Clemmie as they walked back to the base. ‘You love dancing.’

  ‘You’ve just fixed up a foursome and I’m not interested in going out with anyone. I’m engaged, remember?’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll just be friends out together.’

  ‘But you and Brad are a couple and we’ll be the gooseberries. Did you not see the look on Philippe’s face when he left? I don’t think he liked the idea either. He’s a bit strange isn’t he? I mean he sounds strange.’

  Clemmie laughed. ‘He’s French Canadian, that’s why. I love his accent, don’t you?’

  Sheila shrugged.

  Clemmie linked arms with her friend. ‘You could get to know him, if you come to the dance.’

  As it happened it was only two weeks later that Sheila went to the village dance and she didn’t have to worry about Philippe because he wasn’t there. In fact she knew exactly where he was because, just before she finished her shift, she had plotted the coordinates of his Liberator and moved it just beyond the coast heading west. Tonight there would just be Jessica, Clemmie and herself – a girls’ night out – to celebrate Jessica’s birthday and the first dance they had attended together since they arrived at the base.

  Sheila felt completely different out of uniform. She was wearing the one decent dress she had brought with her, the rosebud print with the sweetheart neckline, the same one she had worn to the Floral Hall the night Charles had asked her to marry him. That all seemed so long ago. Now her world had changed beyond anything she thought possible and every day her was head was filled with convoys and planes and some days she hardly thought of Charles at all.

  ‘Are you ready?’ shouted Clemmie.

  ‘In a minute.’ Sheila took a last look in the mirror. In uniform they had to wear their hair off their shoulders, but tonight she left it loose and slightly flicked out at the ends. Her makeup was exactly how she would do it for the stage.

  ‘Now all we need is the birthday girl so we can get going. Where is she?’

  ‘Still in the ablutions, I think,’ said Sheila and at that moment the door opened and Jessica came into the hut.

  Clemmie and Sheila gasped at the sight of her. She wore an expensive, silk, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress in a rich ruby colour and around her neck was an amethyst necklace.

  ‘Wow, you’re going to raise a few eyebrows dressed like that,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘Oh, is this not what’s expected on these occasions?’

  ‘I can safely say that no one will be expecting that,’ said Clemmie.

  At the church hall, they paid their shilling entrance fee and went to the cloakroom. ‘Let’s start with a little cocktail, shall we?’ suggested Jessica and she took a sizeable silver hip flask from her handbag and unscrewed the cup at the top. She filled it up and offered it to Clemmie who took a sip and started to cough.

  ‘What kind of cocktail is that?’

  ‘Well, it’s whiskey,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Whiskey and what else?’ Clemmie handed her back the little cup.

  ‘Just whiskey, that was all I could get.’ Jessica drank the remains, poured another measure and offered it to Sheila. ‘Go on, try it, you might like it.’

  Sheila took a sip and shuddered. ‘Ugh, it’s horrible.’

  Once again Jessica finished it off, then poured another just for herself and drank it in one. ‘Well, shall we go and mingle with the hoi polloi?’ she said, and led the way into the hall just as the sound of ‘I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire’ blared from a crackling gramophone.

  There were only a few couples dancing, while most of the men stood around talking and every now and again sneaking a look at the girls on the other side of the room.

  ‘Not exactly the Ritz, is it?’ said Jessica.

  ‘Oh, it’s early yet,’ said Clemmie. ‘There’ll be more airmen in later when they’ve had a few drinks i
n the bar down the road. We can take it in turns to dance together until they get here.’

  Jessica groaned. ‘Why don’t you two go ahead? I’d rather wait for a genuine Brylcreem boy. In the meantime, I’ll be happy here with my friend …’ She patted the flask in her bag.

  The next record had a faster tempo and the two girls danced a quickstep around the almost empty floor and after that they had a few dances with the airmen. By eight o’clock the hall had filled up and the dance floor was packed. Sheila thanked the corporal with two left feet she had been dancing with and made her way back to their table for a rest. Neither Clemmie nor Jessica was there, but she soon caught sight of them waltzing past.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ A voice, honey warm, behind her. ‘My guardian WAAF deserts me to go off dancing and, before I know it, my luck runs out.’

  Sheila looked over her shoulder and did a double take because there was Philippe, not in his flying gear, but in full uniform as though he was going on parade.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she demanded. ‘You should be—’

  ‘Over the Atlantic? That’s right, but only half an hour out we were hit by lightning – messed up the instruments. We returned to base pronto; bit hairy coming down.’ He threw himself into the seat next to her. ‘What have you to say for yourself, deserting your post?’

  ‘I can’t be on duty every time you fly.’

  ‘Why not?’

  In spite of herself, Sheila smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Philippe leaned forward. ‘You know how superstitious flyers can be, don’t you? I thought you and I were somehow connected.’

  Sheila was on her guard. ‘Why would you think that?’

  ‘Because the funny thing is, when I met you, I kind of thought I knew you, like I’d seen you before.’ He paused and studied her face. ‘I got the same feeling just now, only stronger.’ He reached out and lifted a tress of her long hair and let it fall. ‘Do you know me?’ he said.

  Under the intensity of his gaze, she shook her head and lowered her eyes. Then he laughed and she looked up. The moment had passed.

  ‘Hey, do you want to dance?’ he asked.

  ‘I … I’m not sure …’

  ‘Come on, it’s just a dance,’ he said, and took her hand. It was a slow bluesy Ella Fitzgerald song, one of Peggy’s favourites. They moved round the floor; it was hardly dancing at all, but Sheila didn’t care. The song made her think of Peggy, Pat, Irene and, most of all, her mother and after all this time away she felt such a longing to see them again. She rested her head on Philippe’s shoulder and let the mournful sound of the minor key bring her close to tears. When the music stopped she quickly thanked Philippe and walked off the dance floor, through the hallway and straight out into the night. It was pitch black, not a star in the sky. The cold air steadied her and she wiped her eyes, but then she sensed someone behind her. ‘Who’s there?’ she said.

  ‘My dancing wasn’t that bad, was it?’

  ‘No, no … I’m sorry. It’s just that I … it’s silly … I suddenly felt so homesick. I don’t know why, it just hit me.’

  ‘Sometimes it happens like that – everybody gets it. Who have you got back home?’

  ‘My sisters and my mother.’

  ‘They must be proud of you, oui?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know … probably. My mother didn’t want me to enlist.’

  ‘No, neither did mine, that’s the way it is. Heard you’ve a sweetheart too, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, we’re engaged.’

  ‘Too bad.’ She could hear the smile in his voice.

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Mother, father, brother and two sisters back in Montreal; used to have a sweetheart too, but not any more. She found somebody else.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘No need, I’m not sorry. Tell you the truth, when I got her letter it was a weight off my mind – not having to worry about a girl back home when I’m doing a job like this. Doesn’t mean I can’t have a dance or talk to a girl, just don’t want to get involved, that’s all.’

  ‘So what was all that you were saying about knowing me?’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t a chat-up line or anything. I don’t know, maybe you remind me of someone.’ He touched her hair again. ‘That’s to bring me luck.’ He gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Hey, it’s getting cold out here. How about we go back inside and talk some more?’

  After that night, Sheila was surprised how often she would bump into Philippe. Whether in the tea shop, the NAAFI or the mess, he always looked pleased to see her and would ask about her family and how her job was going. Sometimes he’d touch her hair for luck and to make her laugh. Before long she found herself looking out for him and when they met his easy smile never failed to brighten her day.

  Towards the end of October, when she was on her own eating breakfast after her shift, he came into the mess. He didn’t see her at first so she watched him as he got coffee and toast at the counter and she found herself running her eyes over his broad shoulders and the dark hair curled tightly on his head. She waited for him to turn round and waved him over. By the time he sat down opposite her, his brief smile had been replaced by a serious expression.

  ‘Hello.’

  He nodded in reply.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Not really.’ He was clearly annoyed. ‘I’ve just been put on the roster to do a training flight later on this afternoon, something to do with parachute tests, instead of going on patrol.’

  ‘Can you swap with someone?’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t ever do that.’

  ‘Why not?

  ‘Oh, it’s a sort of superstition – you know what we’re like. If you’re on the roster, you fly the roster. But never mind me, how’s my best buddy today?’

  ‘Tired, ready for my bed. There was a lot going on last night. A U-boat was tracking a convoy, but then it disappeared into thin air. They were searching for it all night, but it must have slipped away.’

  ‘Have you written to your mother and Charles, like you said you would?’

  Sheila looked away. ‘No – I’ll do it today.’

  Philippe gave her a stern look, but she could see his eyes were twinkling. ‘You promise?’ She nodded and he went on, ‘Got a letter myself yesterday.’

  Sheila waited, but he just sat there eating his toast. Eventually she said, ‘Who was it from?’

  He dusted the crumbs from his hands and took a drink of coffee before he spoke. ‘From the girl back home, you remember the one who …’

  ‘Yes, I remember.’

  A heavy silence settled between them. Sheila was shocked at how much she wanted to know what was in the letter, but how could she ask something so private, so delicate? Philippe swirled the dregs of coffee round his cup and didn’t meet her eye. Then they both spoke at the same time: ‘Why did she write to you?’ ‘She wants to make up with me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Sheila, ‘what did you say?’

  ‘I said she wants us to get back together.’

  ‘Oh …’ Sheila felt his words churn her insides. ‘Oh …’ she said again.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Philippe and the silence crept back into the space between them.

  ‘What do you thing about that?’ said Sheila at last.

  ‘I don’t know what to think. As far as I was concerned, she’d found someone else and, well … I tried to get over her. In a way, I was glad not to have to worry about her, you know, if something happened to me. Then out of the blue there is this letter.’ He stared into the distance. ‘And I’ve no idea what to say to her.’

  Sheila spoke gently. ‘Do you want to get back together with her?’

  He raised his head. ‘People change,’ was all he said, but there was confusion in his face and something else – a sadness maybe.

  Sheila resisted a sudden urge to touch his hand. Instead she told him, ‘Give yourself time to think about it. There’s no rush, is there?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘There is a
ll the time in the world.’

  Tired from her long shift, Sheila went back to the hut and wrote a letter to her mother then got into bed. It was still light outside, but that wouldn’t usually have kept her awake. Then there was the cold wind blowing through a gap in the corner of the hut – she got up and put her greatcoat on top of the blanket. But there was no escape from the real reason she was wide awake after a six-hour shift. The truth was she couldn’t stop thinking about Philippe and the girl who wanted him back. She couldn’t blame her – he was such a nice person and good company – but how could she have been so cruel as to send a letter to a pilot serving overseas, rejecting him? It was even worse to write and upset him again when he had just got over her. Sheila yawned and curled up in a ball. Slowly she began to warm up and her heavy eyelids closed …

  She slept the day away and woke up in the dark, cold and hungry. If anyone had come into the hut she certainly hadn’t heard them, but it was surprising that no one was about. She braved the cold and went to the ablutions block to wash, then got back into her uniform and wandered over to the NAAFI. There was, as usual, no light coming from the building because of the blackout curtains, but there was no sound either. At this time it would normally be full of people having their tea and chatting to their friends. She pushed open the door and saw at once that it was indeed full of people, but the faces that turned towards her stopped her heart. Jessica rushed over to her and led her to the table where several of the girls from their hut were sitting. She could see that they had been crying and felt panic rise inside her.

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Jessica and Sheila felt for the chair and lowered herself into it.

  ‘There was an accident this afternoon,’ Jessica explained. ‘A plane clipped a telephone wire over behind the church and it crashed. We’ve been waiting here for word of the crew, but we’ve heard there were no survivors.’ Sheila closed her eyes tight, trying to hold back the tears, trying to make sense of what she had been told.