The Girls in Blue Page 5

  ‘But where would you go?’ Miranda could keep silent no longer. It was obvious that Rita was close to tears despite her attempt at bravado. ‘You told me that you didn’t have anybody else.’

  ‘I’ll get a job in a munitions factory, or maybe I’ll go to the film studios at Ealing and see if I can find work there. I could be one of them starlets you read about in Picturegoer and Picture Show. I love them magazines, don’t you?’

  Maggie gave her a pitying look. ‘But you’re little more than a child, Rita. You need someone to look after you.’ She nudged her husband in the ribs. ‘Say something, George. You know that Rita’s a minor; she shouldn’t have to fend for herself. I can’t see what objections you could possibly have to her staying here on a temporary basis.’

  ‘We need to talk about this, Maggie.’ He drew her aside.

  Miranda waited anxiously for their decision. She had not warmed to Rita from the start and nothing she had said or done had changed that first impression, but a small voice in her head was telling her not to be so mean. She was seeing her with new and slightly more sympathetic eyes. When they met this morning she had thought her rather common and a bit annoying, but looking at her now, with her skinny arms clasped tightly around her equally scrawny frame, Miranda felt a sudden surge of sympathy. Not only was Rita’s cotton dress faded and grubby, it was at least a size too large, suggesting that it was second-hand. Her cardigan was in holes where her bony elbows had worn through the wool, and her shoes were scuffed and down at heel. All that she owned was packed in that battered cardboard suitcase and, even worse, Rita was all alone in the world.

  ‘What do you think, Miranda? Wouldn’t you like to have someone of your own age to keep you company? We both feel that you should have a say in this.’

  Miranda came back to the present with a jolt to find her grandmother waiting eagerly for her response. She knew what was expected of her. ‘Yes, Granny.’ She turned to Rita with an attempt at a smile. ‘Please stay with us until Mrs Proffitt is well enough to leave hospital.’

  ‘I’m sure it will work out very well for all concerned.’ Maggie turned to Rita with an encouraging smile. ‘It’s entirely up to you, my dear. But I want you to know that you will be most welcome to stay here for as long as you like. We’ve plenty of room and it will be absolutely no trouble. What do you say?’

  Rita shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t mind if I do, but what about him?’ She jerked her head in George’s direction. ‘He’s the guvner. Don’t he get the last word?’

  ‘If I do it will be the first time ever,’ he said drily. ‘And I see that I’m outnumbered. You’re welcome to stay with us, Rita.’ He moved towards the doorway. ‘And now please may we have some lunch, Maggie? I don’t know about these girls but I am absolutely starving.’

  ‘Thank God someone’s had the nerve to mention it,’ Rita said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘I’m so hungry I could eat a bloody horse, hooves and all.’

  There was a stunned silence, but Maggie was the first to recover. ‘Sandwiches will be the order of the day, Annie. I’m sure there must be some cheese in the larder.’ She took Rita by the hand. ‘Come with me, dear. I think we need to have a little talk before we go any further.’ She glanced over her shoulder as they were about to leave the room. ‘We’ll join you in a minute. Rita and I have some things to sort out first.’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes,’ Annie muttered as they left the room. ‘But that young lady needs putting in her place. She’s got too much to say for herself for my liking.’

  ‘I’ll be in my workshop.’ George headed for the back door. ‘Call me when lunch is ready.’

  ‘I’ll go and start unpacking.’ Miranda was about to follow her grandmother and Rita from the kitchen but Annie caught her by the sleeve. ‘No you don’t, young lady. You can stay here and help me make the sandwiches. You’ve got all afternoon and evening to sort your things out.’

  ‘I suppose so, but she’s getting off lightly.’

  Annie pulled a face. ‘When you’ve suffered the rough edge of your granny’s tongue as I’m sure young Rita’s doing at this minute, then you’ll be able to decide who’s come off best. Now get along with you and less of the lip. I’ve been with this family too long to put up with any nonsense from spoilt little girls.’

  ‘I’m not a little girl and I’m not spoilt.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you. I was thinking of Miss Eileen; she was the apple of your grandad’s eye, even after Master Jack was born. She only had to ask and she could have had the top brick off the chimbley.’

  ‘I only met Aunt Eileen once. She came home on leave with her husband and their two children.’

  ‘I’d rather forget that visit. They were the two worst behaved little brats I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. Anyway, we’d better stop gassing or you’ll be eating lunch at teatime.’ Taking a loaf from the bread bin she began slicing it. ‘The cheese is in the larder and there’s a jar of pickles on the shelf. By the way I’ll need your ration book and Rita’s too. I hope she doesn’t eat too much. We’re all out of horsemeat.’ She made a gruff gurgling sound, laughing at her own joke. ‘Cheer up, Miranda. It might never happen.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever it is that’s made you look like you lost a shilling and found sixpence.’ Annie’s lined face creased into a caricature of a grin. ‘Don’t worry; your granny will knock Miss Rita into shape. She won’t stand for any nonsense. Now spread the butter very thinly. There’s a week’s ration there, unless I can do another deal with Farmer Drake.’

  Miranda paused with the knife clutched in her hand. ‘What sort of deal?’

  ‘Never you mind.’ Annie tapped the side of her nose. ‘Times are hard and going to get a lot harder before this war’s over. We’re going back to the old ways of bartering for things, but that’s between you and me and the gatepost.’

  Rita was unusually silent but appeared to be unchastened after her heart to heart with Maggie. She limited her conversation to please and thank you during lunch and Miranda hoped that she was not going to sulk for the rest of the day. It was going to be hard enough to find common ground between them, and almost impossible if Rita would not meet her halfway.

  The lack of verbal communication seemed to have affected everyone seated around the table and the silence was getting on Miranda’s nerves. She swallowed a mouthful of sandwich. ‘There were crowds of people at the railway station today,’ she said, making an attempt at conversation. ‘I overheard someone saying that they were evacuees from the Channel Islands.’

  Maggie looked up, her eyes alight with interest. ‘I heard that on the wireless this morning. Poor souls, it must be heartbreaking to be in such a terrible situation.’

  ‘The authorities are doing all they can to help.’ George selected another sandwich and put it on his plate. ‘The WVS are doing a great job, but it’s a logistical nightmare.’

  ‘There seemed to be hundreds of them at the station,’ Miranda said with a catch in her voice. ‘They were mostly mothers with very young children.’

  Maggie frowned thoughtfully. ‘Is there anything we can do, George?’

  ‘I think it’s all in hand, my dear. Best leave it to those who are experienced in these matters.’ He rose from the table. ‘I’ll be in the workshop if anyone needs me.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Maggie said meekly. She waited until the door closed behind him before rising to her feet. ‘Your grandfather is still coming to terms with the terrible things he saw at Dunkirk and the loss of his old friend, Miranda, and we must take care not to upset him. However, that mustn’t stop us doing our Christian duty. We’ve got important work to do.’

  ‘But, Granny, we haven’t unpacked yet and you haven’t said which bedroom Rita is to have.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Rita said through a mouthful of bread and cheese. ‘I can sleep in the dog kennel if I have to.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. We can sort the sleeping arrangements out later. We’re
going into town.’ Maggie snatched her handbag from a chair by the door. ‘Get a move on, Miranda; you too, Rita. There are people who need our help.’

  *

  It seemed that they were doomed to walk the whole length of the beach road and even further. By the time they reached the town Miranda was hot and breathless and wishing she could throw the wretched gas mask into the sea. Rita had trudged along silent, but patently out of sorts. She had barely said one word since they left the house and then it was only to complain that she had a stone in her shoe.

  The Esplanade was crowded with people and every sort of conveyance from buses to horse-drawn carts and pony traps. Maggie strode purposefully towards the ferry terminal but as they reached the Alexandra Gardens she came to a halt. The grounds around the theatre were overflowing with evacuees and the officials who were attempting to help them.

  ‘Wait here,’ Maggie said firmly. She crossed the road to speak to a group of women who seemed to be in charge.

  If anything, Miranda thought with a feeling of sympathy, the volunteers looked even more tired and frustrated than the people they were helping. She waited patiently while her grandmother and the officials embarked on a seemingly endless conversation, but she was beginning to feel light-headed with fatigue. It had been a long day and an emotionally exhausting one.

  ‘This is nuts,’ Rita said, shifting from foot to foot. ‘I dunno what she thinks we can do here.’

  Miranda shielded her eyes from the sunlight. ‘I think we’re about to find out. She’s coming back and it looks as though she’s got a boatload of women and kids following her.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Rita clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘You and me are going to be sleeping in the outside lav at this rate.’

  Maggie came striding towards them leading her flock. She paused for a moment as she caught sight of Tommy Toop, who had apparently fixed his cart and was touting for business. ‘Tommy Toop, come here this minute.’

  He approached her warily. ‘What’s up, missis?’

  ‘Help the ladies to put their cases in your cart.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t take that lot.’

  Maggie bit her lip. Behind her the children were crying and some of the women were demanding to know what was going on. ‘No,’ she said at length. ‘You’re right. Miranda, take Rita and see if you can find someone with any kind of conveyance which will take these poor people and their belongings to Highcliffe. Never mind the expense. This is an emergency.’ She turned to the women with an encouraging smile. ‘Don’t worry, ladies. We’re just finding suitable transport. Please be patient for a little while longer.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the harbourside. ‘Go on, girls. Chop-chop. You too, Tommy.’

  ‘What on earth are we supposed to do?’ Rita demanded as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘There’s no chance of finding a taxi in this dump.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Tommy said crossly. ‘Just because you come from London don’t mean you can be rude about our town. There’s a war on, you know.’

  Rita thrust her face close to his. ‘Of course I know it, you moron. I wouldn’t be seen dead in a backwater like this if it wasn’t for the bloody war.’

  Miranda could see another conflict looming and she decided to take charge of the situation. ‘You two go along the harbour and I’ll walk along St Mary Street. Maybe we can find a carter or someone with a van who’s willing to take them to Highcliffe.’ She hurried off before either of them could argue.

  The atmosphere in the streets seemed to be charged with urgency, as if the war had suddenly arrived on their doorstep and shattered the peace of the seaside town. Miranda quickened her pace, dodging through the crowds and cutting down one of the narrow side streets as she headed for the town centre, but as she rounded the corner she cannoned into someone laden with cardboard boxes. Everything flew up in the air and Miranda stumbled off the edge of the kerb, falling to her knees in the gutter.

  ‘Hell and damnation. Look where you’re going.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Brushing the hair back from her face, Miranda squinted up at the tall figure of a man silhouetted against the sunshine.

  Chapter Four

  MIRANDA SCRAMBLED TO her feet and found herself looking into the irate face of Raif Carstairs. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  He stared at her for a second and his angry expression melted into a grin. ‘I thought I’d deposited you and your friend safely on the other side of town. You are a traffic hazard, Miss Beddoes.’

  ‘I said I’m sorry, and anyway you weren’t looking where you were going either.’ She bent down to help him retrieve the boxes, most of which had remained intact, except for one which had burst open spilling its contents onto the pavement.

  ‘Shoes,’ he said, picking up a pair of high-heeled court shoes and replacing them in their box. ‘Not mine I assure you. My mother buys everything by the dozen or half dozen. No half measures. I was collecting them for her. She’s convinced that clothes and footwear will be rationed before long, hence the panic to buy out almost the entire stock.’

  She piled the last box on top of the ones he was already holding. ‘Sorry again. I hope they’re not damaged.’

  ‘No harm done, but why the hurry? You came round that corner as if the devil himself was on your heels.’

  ‘I’ve got to find transport for some evacuees. My grandmother has decided to take them in. She’s like that.’

  ‘I see. I’m afraid I’ve only got my two-seater or I’d offer to help.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Miranda backed away, hoping that he had not noticed that she was blushing furiously. Of all the people in the town she had to bump into it was the person who already thought of her as a silly young girl, and the fact that he was a dashing RAF pilot made it even worse. Her one aim now was to put as much distance between them as humanly possible. ‘Got to go, sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologising. Anyway, you’ll never find any form of transport on a day like this, but I might be able to help.’

  ‘You can?’

  ‘I have a pal who owns a removal firm. If we’re lucky he might have a van in the garage. We can but ask.’

  ‘Thanks, but you needn’t put yourself out for me.’

  ‘I’m not. This is for the war effort. We’ve all got to do our bit, even collecting shoes for women who have enough pairs in their wardrobe to last a lifetime. Follow me, Miranda.’ He strode off along the street clutching the shoe boxes in his arms. ‘Hurry up,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I’ve only got a twenty-four-hour pass, and so far today I’ve done nothing but run errands for my mother. Anyway, we’d better get there before they close or your grandmother’s guests will have to walk to Highcliffe.’

  Miranda hurried after him, but she could not help wondering if she was doing the right thing. Granny’s reaction at the mention of Raif’s name and her overt disapproval of someone she professed not to know was quite baffling. She realised with a start that she had almost lost sight of him in the crowd, and she had to run to catch up. Perhaps if her grandmother were to meet Raif she might change her mind, as it was his family she seemed to dislike and not him personally. Anyway, he seemed determined to help and she had the feeling that once he had made up his mind to something it would be very hard to persuade him otherwise.

  She followed him to the inner harbour where he had parked his car. He tossed the shoe boxes into the boot, locked it and strode off without waiting to check that she was following. In fact her patience was being stretched to the limit and she was rapidly growing resentful of his cavalier treatment. She was planning to tell him so if she ever caught up with him, but then he stopped suddenly and ushered her into a yard filled with commercial vans. ‘Wait here.’ He went to the office and disappeared inside, emerging moments later and brandishing a set of keys. ‘The only vehicle free is an open truck, but it’s better than nothing.’ He crossed the yard to where an ageing and slightly dilapidated lorry was parked, and opened the cab door. ‘Hop in. You can ride shotgun.’

/>   She eyed the truck doubtfully, wondering whether it would be suitable, but as there did not seem to be any alterative she walked across the yard with as much dignity as she could muster and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘This is very good of you, Flight Lieutenant Carstairs.’

  He gave her a quizzical look as he leapt into the driver’s seat. ‘That’s very formal, Miss Beddoes. How did you know my rank?’

  ‘You introduced yourself to us this morning, and I know what two stripes on your cuff means. I’m not a child, Lieutenant.’

  He was suddenly serious. ‘I can see that, Miranda. You’re a very enterprising young lady.’

  ‘Now you’re being patronising. Have you got any sisters?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I have a younger sister.’

  ‘Really? What’s her name?’

  ‘Isabel, but we always call her Izzie.’ He started the engine. ‘And before you ask, she’s nineteen, several years my junior.’

  ‘I’m not that nosey, Flight Lieutenant.’

  He checked the rear view mirror and began to reverse out into the street. ‘Where do we pick up our passengers?’

  There was no mockery in his smile and in spite of everything she felt herself warming to him for the second time that day. She relaxed into the worn leather seat. ‘Alexandra Gardens. I left them standing on the pavement with their babies and toddlers. Tommy Toop and Rita went off to see if they could get help too.’

  ‘Let’s go then. Operation Nippers about to commence.’

  Forgetting her irritation, Miranda smiled. Perhaps she had misjudged him, she thought, giving him a sideways glance as he concentrated on the road ahead. He was not handsome like Jack, who had the archetypal good looks of a film star, but Raif Carstairs had a strong profile, a determined chin and a twinkle in his dark eyes. He had taken off his peaked cap, revealing a high forehead and wavy brown hair. He seemed to sense that she was staring at him and he took his eyes off the road long enough to give her an encouraging grin. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get them there, although I have a nasty feeling this contraption is being held together with string and rubber bands.’ He swore softly beneath his breath as he crashed the gears. ‘Sorry. I forgot I had a lady in the cab. I’m not used to driving a truck, but let’s hope it doesn’t conk out before we get you home.’