A Song in my Heart Page 30

  Within a few days, Clemmie had made the first pair of French knickers, which she christened ‘Boudoirs’. There were squeals of delight from the girls when she removed her skirt to reveal her exquisite silk underwear, trimmed with lace. Then with great excitement, one by one, each WAAF stood in front of Sheila to have her measurements taken.

  Before long other girls who had the skills joined in Clemmie’s Sunday morning ‘sewing bee’, and Jessica was soon bringing back spools of lace smuggled from over the border. The girls would gather after breakfast, the parachute would be on the floor, with Sheila making patterns and Jessica cutting out, and the stitchers would sit on their beds sewing while everyone else sat around and chatted.

  Then one Sunday, when the Boudoir production line was in full flow, the door quietly opened and someone slipped inside. No one noticed the intruder until she bellowed, ‘Stand by your beds!’

  Sergeant O’Dwyer.

  They dropped everything and rushed to their places. She walked the length of the hut, stopping to look at the knicker-shaped cut-outs on the parachute. She took the sewing from one girl and held it up. There was no mistaking what it was. When she reached the far end of the hut, having glared at every WAAF on the way, she demanded, ‘Who’s responsible for this?’

  ‘We all are,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Where did you get the parachute?’

  ‘We found it,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘Where have you been hiding all this?’

  ‘Under the floorboards,’ said Sheila.

  ‘Are you making money out of it?’

  They shook their heads.

  ‘Hmm,’ said O’Dwyer. ‘I could have you all on a charge. You could be peeling spuds and mopping out ablution blocks for months.’ The girls stared straight ahead.

  ‘But maybe we could come to a different arrangement.’ She walked back the way she had come and turned to face them.

  ‘I will require three pairs of these silk and lace undergarments and I’ll have them by the end of the week.’

  Sheila raised her hand. ‘What is it?’ snapped O’Dwyer.

  ‘We’ll need to know your measurements, Sergeant.’

  She glared at Sheila. ‘Is that a tape measure round your neck?’

  Sheila nodded and without a second thought O’Dwyer removed her skirt and stood before them with her blue ‘blackout’ bloomers down to her knees and rolls of fat escaping from every piece of elastic.

  A year had passed since Sheila had last seen Charles. Their letters had continued, but inevitably they became shorter and shorter. Charles wrote about happenings at school, talking about members of staff that Sheila barely remembered, and always he would dwell on how much he missed her. Sheila found it difficult to write about her life on the base; it was always the same routine and, anyway, she wasn’t permitted to write about what went on in the operations room. She couldn’t possibly tell him that she thought about him less and less, nor could she lie and say that she missed him. She found it strange that other girls pined for their sweethearts and time spent apart seemed to strengthen their love.

  Towards the end of August, she received a letter from Charles that sent her into a panic. ‘Oh Clemmie, what am I going to do?’ she said.

  ‘You’re going to do what he asks. There’s no getting out of it. He’s off school for the holidays, so he has plenty of time to come up here to see his fiancée. You know what they say: if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain.’

  ‘Ach, that’s the sort of thing my mother would say.’

  ‘Well, there you are – moms are always right.’

  ‘But what will I do with him? He’ll get off the train at Ballykelly, where there’s not exactly a lot to do, and I can’t bring him on to the base.’

  ‘It’s simple, you’re on the night shift so you’ll have most of the day with him. What about you get on his train when it arrives here and the two of you go on together to Londonderry? There’s a bit more to do there.’

  Sheila thought about it. ‘Clemmie, to be honest, I don’t know if I want to see him at all. It seems so long ago that I said I’d marry him. I’m scared that when I meet him again he’ll be like a stranger.’

  ‘Isn’t that exactly why you need to see him? If you don’t want to marry him, you’ve got to do the decent thing and tell him.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

  Clemmie leaned over, her eyes twinkling. ‘Look at it the other way. You could meet him and fall in love with him all over again. Is he good-looking?’

  Sheila smiled. ‘Yes, yes he is: tall and dark. And he says the most lovely things.’

  ‘There you are, girl. Answer his letter and tell him to come.’

  Less than a week later, Sheila stood on the station platform in full WAAF uniform, twisting her engagement ring round her finger. How odd it felt to be wearing it after all this time. The sound of the train grew louder and, as it rounded the bend, the smoke billowed, obscuring the carriages. By the time it drew up alongside her, there were only wisps of steam swirling round the platform and she spotted Charles looking anxiously out of the window. Her heart was thumping as she waved and ran towards him. He opened the carriage door and pulled her inside. She had only seconds to take him in – to recognise his face and realise the memory of it she had carried all these months had been a poor copy. He was much more handsome than she remembered.

  The train was one without a corridor and the carriage itself was empty. She was therefore alone with Charles. He was so happy to see her, words tumbling out of him about how he had missed her, taking her hand and holding it fast. By the time the train gave a little jolt and began to move slowly forwards, she was wrapped in his arms and between the kisses he told her about his plans for their future.

  ‘I’ve been saving up,’ he said. ‘We should be able to rent a decent wee house when we get married. Of course, when I qualify I’ll look to buy somewhere, get us established, you know?’

  Sheila nodded. He raised her chin and looked into her eyes. ‘You’re a picture,’ he said. ‘In the time you’ve been away you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Your face, your figure … you delight me.’ Sheila lowered her eyes, embarrassed but pleased by his words.

  Charles hardly noticed her response as he rushed on with his plans. ‘They say the war will soon be over, now that the Allies are pushing back the Germans. I was thinking, if you could leave the Forces, say by the end of the year, you could come back to Belfast and even get your old job back.’

  ‘But Charles, I’ve signed up until the end of the war. I’m not allowed to leave before then.’

  ‘But you’re not a conscript and anyway you’re a girl. I’m sure if you made a fuss about wanting to leave they’d let you go. You could tell them you’re getting married. It’s not as if they’ll need you.’

  Sheila extricated herself from his arms and gave him a hard stare. ‘A girl? A fuss? Charles, the work I’ve been trained to do is important. Lives depend on it.’

  He wasn’t listening. ‘I never should’ve agreed to you joining up in the first place. My parents couldn’t believe it when I told them.’

  ‘It wasn’t anything to do with you agreeing,’ said Sheila. ‘It was something I wanted to do.’

  ‘But look how it’s turned out.’ Charles’ tone had changed. ‘I’m left on my own for a whole year. You’re away here, surrounded by pilots and tail-end Charlies and everybody knows what they’re like when it comes to chasing the girls.’

  Sheila’s eyes blazed. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing. What kind of girl do you think I am?’

  ‘I’m not getting into all that now. I’m telling you, you need to come home.’

  ‘And I’m telling you that I can’t.’

  Charles shook his head as if he was searching for the final word. ‘I suppose I’ll have to accept that you can’t get yourself out of this mess. But that ring on your finger means that you’re mine and you’d better promise me that you’ll get demobbed as soon
as you can and come straight back to Belfast where I can keep an eye on you.’

  Sheila was on her feet, glaring at him, but she couldn’t find the words to show her anger. ‘You can’t speak to me like that … I …’

  Sheila sensed the train was slowing down as it approached a station and turned away from Charles to look out the window. On the platform, a woman was blowing kisses to an unseen passenger and a man in a corduroy cap was standing beside a large trunk, pointing at the train and trying to attract the attention of a passing porter. Ordinary people leading ordinary lives. Sheila knew in that moment what she wanted – and more importantly, what she didn’t want.

  The brakes squealed and Sheila, shaking with anger and indignation, found herself yelling at Charles, ‘I’m going back to the base! A ring doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do.’ And she wrenched it off her finger and threw it at him.

  The train juddered to a stop. Charles came towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Sheila, you can’t do this. Don’t go, we’ll talk about it … get things sorted.’ The carriage door swung open behind Sheila and she turned to see the man in the corduroy cap trying to get in. She slipped past him and ran, turning only to see if Charles was following her, but the man in the cap was dragging his trunk through the carriage door and there was no sign of Charles.

  Sheila set off walking back to the base, her head full of the confrontation with Charles. It was like he owned her, the way he was making decisions about her life. She thought about when they were together before she joined the WAAF. He had been a bit like that then and she had just gone along with everything he said. Even the engagement was rushed; she had been in two minds about it, but his words had charmed her. She didn’t doubt he loved her, but the truth was she was older and wiser, and she knew for certain that Charles was not the one she loved.

  By the time Sheila got back to the base she was hot and thirsty and went straight to the NAAFI for something to eat and drink. Clemmie and Jessica were there, along with some of the other girls from their hut, and she went to join them.

  ‘I thought you’d be in Londonderry by now with that handsome fiancé of yours,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘And I thought you’d be in the hut sewing knickers the size of barrage balloons for Sergeant O’Dwyer,’ said Sheila.

  ‘No, I’ve had quite enough for one day.’

  ‘I know how you feel …’ said Sheila.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Barbara. ‘Did he not live up to your expectations?’

  ‘More like I didn’t live up to his,’ she said, and gave them a word by word account of their short train journey.

  Clemmie was outraged. ‘Sounds like he thinks he owns you and you have to ask him his permission to breathe.’

  Nell chipped in, ‘Did he actually say he wanted to keep his eye on you?’

  ‘I wish I’d seen him,’ said Jessica. ‘I’d have given him a piece of my mind. “Only a girl” indeed. I hope you let him have it right between the eyes.’

  ‘I did,’ said Sheila, ‘I threw the ring at him.’ There were hoots of laughter.

  ‘You know what I think?’ said Jessica. ‘This world is changing, has been since the war began and these men have no idea of the revolution taking place in women’s heads. This war will be won because of women like us. We know our worth and none of us will ever again be just a man’s possession.’ And the girls cheered and clapped.

  ‘Very well put,’ said O’Dwyer, who had come into the NAAFI just as Jessica started to speak. She turned to Sheila. ‘Now then, Goulding, there’s a man at the gate, says he’s your fiancé and he needs to speak to you urgently. You know the rules – no visitors allowed – especially if they have a face like thunder and look like they’re spoiling for a fight.’

  ‘She’s broken up with him, Sergeant,’ said Clemmie. ‘That’s why he’s turned up here. She doesn’t want to see him, do you Sheila?’

  Sheila shook her head.

  ‘Right, I’ll send him packing,’ said O’Dwyer and she headed for the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Sheila called after her. ‘I think I should tell him I don’t want to see him again. It should come from me.’

  ‘Fine, if that’s what you want to do. He’s at the gate, but if you need help the guards are there – just give them a shout. I’ll be close by, too.’

  Charles was pacing up and down outside the gate. He caught sight of her and waited, hands in his pockets, grim expression on his face. Sheila slipped through the gate and faced him.

  ‘Sheila, I can’t go home leaving it like this. We need to decide what to do.’

  ‘There’s nothing to decide, Charles. It’s over and, to be blunt, I don’t want to see you ever again.’

  His face was paralysed with shock and it was a moment before he collected himself. ‘Look Sheila, I’ll apologise. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. It’s just that I love you and I want to marry you and take care of you.’

  ‘But I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to have the freedom to do what I want. Not what a man tells me.’

  He reached out and grabbed her arm. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m offering to make something of you. You’ll be marrying a professional man, with his own house.’

  She stared at his hand on her arm. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘Sheila, you’ve got to listen to me.’

  ‘No, she doesn’t.’ Sheila recognised the booming voice and turned to see Sergeant O’Dwyer at her shoulder. ‘She’s told you it’s finished and I’m telling you it’s time you went on your way before I call the guards.’

  Charles ignored her and spoke to Sheila. ‘I’ve wasted a year of my life on you. And you needn’t think you can come crawling back to me.’ His voice was low and the look in his eyes frightened her. ‘I’m glad to be rid of you,’ he said, and without another word he walked away.

  Sheila was trembling and Sergeant O’Dwyer immediately put her arm round her shoulder and led her back to the NAAFI. When they came in the girls were eager to hear what had happened. ‘He’s gone for good,’ said Sheila, ‘Sergeant O’Dwyer made sure of that.’

  ‘I’ll not have a fella like that upset one of my WAAFs,’ she said, and the girls gave her a hearty cheer.

  As September faded and the October nights drew in, Clemmie waited anxiously to hear from Brad. There had been talk on the base of Liberators supporting the push through Belgium as part of Operation Market Garden and it seemed pretty certain that Brad and Philippe would have been involved. Sheila tried hard to keep Clemmie’s spirits up by listening to her fears and reassuring her that Brad would come through unscathed. Never once did she mention her own anxiety about Philippe.

  Sheila was leaving the admin block one morning after collecting her weekly letter from her mother, when Nell called after her. ‘Do you want to take Clemmie’s post as well? It’s Canadian Air Force mail. She’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Oh yes – I’ll take it to her right away.’

  Clemmie was fast asleep, having just come off a busy night shift, but Sheila didn’t hesitate to shake her awake.

  ‘Wake up, it’s come.’

  Bleary-eyed and yawning, Clemmie tried to focus on whatever Sheila was waving in front of her face. ‘I can’t see – what is it?’

  ‘It’s a letter. It must be Brad.’

  Clemmie sat up, took the envelope and tried to open it. ‘Oh, my fingers won’t work,’ she said, and handed it back to Sheila who carefully opened it.

  ‘Here you are.’ She gave Clemmie the single sheet of paper. ‘What does it say?’

  Clemmie skimmed through the first side. ‘He’s well, he misses me … oh my goodness, he’s coming back to Northern Ireland. Only for a few days … his plane needs some repairs and modifications at Langford Lodge.’ She turned the paper over, her eyes darting backwards and forwards as she read. Then she screamed and jumped out of bed and ran halfway down the hut and back.

  ‘What is it?’ shouted Sheila. ‘Tell me.’

  Clemm
ie grabbed her friend by the shoulders and laughed. ‘We’re going to get married when he comes back. In Belfast … I need to arrange everything … Oh, what will I do about a wedding dress?’

  Clemmie’s excitement was infectious and Sheila was so pleased for her that it was a good fifteen minutes before she felt able to ask, ‘Does he mention Philippe at all?’

  ‘Of course he does. His plane needs the modifications as well and not only that, Philippe’s going to be his best man.’

  ‘It’ll be nice for you to see him again, too.’

  Clemmie tilted her head. ‘Nice for me? You do realise I’m going to need a bridesmaid and, hey girl, that’s you.’

  ‘Me?’ Sheila’s face lit up.

  ‘And you know what they say about the bridesmaid and the best man?’

  Sheila blushed. ‘I don’t think there’ll be anything like that going on.’

  Clemmie hugged her. ‘We’ll see,’ she said. ‘In the meantime we’re going to have to sweet-talk our new best friend Sergeant O’Dwyer.’

  Chapter 36

  On a frosty November morning Sheila and Clemmie boarded the train for Belfast.

  ‘Three whole days in the big city,’ said Clemmie.

  ‘Three days and a wedding.’

  ‘Three days, a wedding and visiting your family – it’ll be great to meet them, after all the things you’ve told me about them. And, just think, Brad and Philippe will have flown to Langford Lodge already. I can’t wait to see them both tomorrow.’

  Clemmie caught Sheila’s poor attempt at a smile. ‘You’re not still worrying about seeing Philippe again? I’m telling you, he’ll be so pleased to see you.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Sheila.

  Clemmie laughed and nudged her in the ribs. ‘He knows you’re not engaged to Charles any more.’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t tell him that, did you? He’ll think there’s some matchmaking going on. How embarrassing.’