Chapter 33
Bobby didn’t have long to wait to set eyes on the new love of Carol’s life: this handsome American officer. In fact, she saw him the next day, when the women arrived at the hut where they were forced to sit through long, dull lectures on the history of the service.
‘Surely we must know everything there is to know about the history of the RAF by now,’ Mike muttered as they went in.
‘It’s not history today,’ said one of the WAAFs filing in alongside them. ‘I heard it was going to be first aid.’
‘No, that’s not right,’ another said. ‘We’ve got a first aid demonstration after lunch, before the route march.’
‘Well, what is it then?’
‘International relations or something,’ another woman said, stifling a yawn. ‘Some officer is going to talk about cooperating with foreign Allied services and all that rot. Here, let’s grab a desk at the back and see if we can have a crafty kip while they’re droning on.’
‘Oh blimey.’ Carol grabbed Bobby’s arm. ‘I bet it’s him!’
‘What, your divine Yank?’
‘Who else could it be? There aren’t any other foreign officers in the mess.’
‘But you said he was RAF,’ Bobby pointed out. ‘Why would they get an RAF officer to talk to us about working with foreign services? If he’s one of ours he won’t have any special knowledge, even if he is American.’
‘I don’t know, do I? I’m sure it has to be him though. Come on, before the good desks are taken.’
Carol dragged her three friends to the front. Since most recruits preferred to sit as far back as they could, out of sight of the lecturer, they were able to claim a place right in the centre.
‘You’d better be right about this, Car,’ Dilys whispered. ‘Otherwise we’ve got an hour of having to sit up prim and proper for some ugly old officer while everyone at the back is playing Noughts and Crosses.’
A man appeared and mounted the lecturer’s podium – a short, squat RAF NCO. Carol looked devastated, until she realised this wasn’t the lecturer but someone to introduce him.
‘Settle down, ladies, settle down,’ the man said pompously.
‘This morning’s lecture will be on the subject of “Our Commonwealth Allies, and How We’re Stronger Together”.
In a moment it will be my privilege to introduce Flying Officer Ernest King of the Royal Canadian Air Force, who has recently joined us at Ryland Moor. ’
Bobby blinked. ‘No!’
‘Shush, Bobs,’ Mike murmured, ventriloquist-style. The NCO glared in their direction, but didn’t reprimand them for talking out of turn.
‘Flying Officer King is taking a temporary hiatus from operational flying while he heals from an injury sustained in the course of his duties,’ the man went on. ‘I hope you will remember to treat him with the respect he deserves. Now, notebooks at the ready.’
The NCO went to fetch Ernie, and Bobby took advantage of the hubbub that arose while the WAAFs hunted for writing materials to whisper to Carol.
‘I thought you said he was a Yank,’ she hissed.
Carol shrugged. ‘Well, he sounds like a Yank. Anyway, he’s still bagged.’
‘What’s up, Bobs?’ Mike asked.
Bobby tucked an escaped tendril of hair under her cap, feeling flustered. ‘Nothing.’
‘It doesn’t look like nothing,’ Dilys observed. ‘You’re red as anything, you are. What’s the secret?’
Bobby was spared the necessity of answering by the arrival of the NCO, showing in their speaker. As soon as Ernie entered, twenty-odd heads swivelled in his direction.
Behind her, Bobby heard a WAAF whisper to her friend, ‘Bloody hell! How many coupons do you need for something as sweet as that?’ Her pal guffawed appreciatively.
Bobby couldn’t avoid him noticing her. Thanks to Carol, they were directly in front of the speaker’s podium.
Sure enough, she saw Ernie blink when he spotted her, and then the twitch of a smile.
She didn’t smile back but looked straight ahead, summoning all the military professionalism she could muster.
Ernie King, here! Topsy had told her he was down in Cambridge.
Various emotions flooded her. Pleasure at seeing her friend looking so well after his recent injury, with his arm now out of its sling.
Guilt, still, over that night on the ice.
Confusion about what the look he had given her might have meant.
Worry about Charlie, and how he would feel if he knew Ernie was here with her while he was far away.
Fear about whether he would still care, or if he had really forgotten her.
But more than all that, Bobby felt an overwhelming sensation of comfort at seeing a face that belonged to home.
Ernie King, something familiar amongst all this strangeness, felt like a panacea for the gnawing homesickness she was unable to shake off.
He had mounted the podium now, and was endeavouring to catch her eye. Bobby allowed him to do so, flashing a small smile. He smiled warmly back before turning his attention to the recruits waiting for him to speak.
Bobby didn’t hear much of the talk on Commonwealth relations.
She was too bowled over by Ernie’s unexpected appearance.
What she did hear didn’t sound particularly enthralling, although you might have thought Ernie was another Svengali, the way he seemed to hold his audience rapt.
It was clear Carol was going to have some competition for his favours.
Would he speak to her, afterwards? Bobby half hoped he wouldn’t. Her friends were already suspicious about her pink cheeks. She could dissemble her way out of that, perhaps, but if Ernie acknowledged their prior relationship, she would be bombarded with questions about him.
After the lecture, the pompous NCO engaged Ernie in conversation.
For a moment, Bobby thought she might be able to slip out unseen in spite of the crowd of women pressing through the door so they could be first in the queue for lunch.
The NCO disappeared as she was preparing to fight her way out, however, and Ernie hailed her at once.
‘Hey. Slacks.’
Her friends hadn’t hurried to leave, lingering to enjoy a last gaze at the object of Carol’s affections. They stared at Bobby on hearing her thus acknowledged, and she cursed her stupid flushed cheeks.
‘Ernie,’ she said, smiling warmly. Despite the muddle of emotions, she was genuinely pleased to see him. ‘I mean, sorry.’ She whipped off a salute. ‘Flying Officer King.’
He laughed. ‘At ease, Aircraftwoman Slacks. It is Aircraftwoman, I assume?’
Bobby laughed too, relaxing a little. ‘Yes, ACW/2, the very lowliest of erks. May I shine your boots, sir?’
He stepped towards her, and for a moment she thought he might take her hands, but he didn’t, thank God.
‘No, but you can have a drink with me in the NAAFI tomorrow night.’ He nodded politely to the other three, who were goggling at him wonderingly. ‘And your friends, of course. It’s good to see a familiar face.’
Carol came forward to slip her arm through Bobby’s. ‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Bobs?’ She beamed at Ernie. ‘I’m her best friend.’
Ernie laughed. ‘A new best friend already? You’ve barely been here a week, Slacks. Have you forgotten Her Ladyship so soon?’
Mike frowned. ‘Ladyship? What ladyship? Bobsy, do you know a ladyship?’
Bobby cursed Ernie silently. What did he have to go and say that for? She was struggling enough to shake off a reputation for holier-than-thou primness without it getting out that she knocked around with the landed gentry.
‘Oh, it’s just a nickname for a mutual friend,’ she told Mike airily, casting Ernie a keep-quiet look. ‘Mrs Nowak. I was maid of honour at her wedding recently.’
‘A wedding that the RAF decreed I had to miss,’ Ernie said. ‘How about tomorrow night then, girls? Bobby, you can tell me all about the nuptials over a drink.’
‘I’m afraid we’re not allowed,’ Bobby said, ignoring a glare from Dilys. ‘We’re not even supposed to be talking to you. Fraternisation with your kind is strictly forbidden until we’ve been here a fortnight.’
‘Didn’t you listen to my talk? I thought we were fostering Commonwealth relations.’
Bobby smiled. ‘“Your kind” meaning men, not Canadians. Sorry, but you’d have to take it up with our WAAF commandant.’
‘I might do that.’ He gave her another warm smile. ‘I’m glad you’re here, kid.’
He strode off towards the door, but Bobby called to him.
‘Ernie, wait! Have you had any news from Teddy?’ she asked. ‘We’re not allowed to receive letters for a fortnight either. I’m dying to know how everyone is at home.’
‘I had a letter from the new Mr and Mrs Nowak just before I left Cambridge,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Happy to report that all’s joyous with the honeymooners. I’m told the old lady’s just become a proud gran of nine feathery grandchildren.’
‘Oh! You mean Norman and Jemima’s goslings have hatched?’
Ernie laughed. ‘Sorry, I have to go. I have to be on the airfield in ten minutes to take a sprog up. Meet me in the NAAFI tomorrow and I’ll let you read it for yourself, OK?’
‘You know I can’t. Mulligan would have my head.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ he said, grinning, and left the hut.
‘Bloody hell!’ Carol stared at Bobby like some wondrous thing. Mike had fixed her in an awestruck gaze as well, and even Dilys looked reluctantly impressed. ‘All right, tell us everything.’
Bobby shrugged. ‘He’s a friend from home, that’s all. I didn’t know he was being moved here. Last I heard he was in Cambridge.’
‘What kind of a friend?’ Dilys asked, narrowing one eye.
‘What kinds are there?’
‘Men and women can’t really be friends,’ Mike said. ‘Sooner or later he goes gooey on her or she does on him, or something happens between them when they’re tight, and it all ends up one big mess.’
Carol frowned at Bobby. ‘Is that it, Bobs?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Bobby said, fighting a blush. ‘It isn’t always like that. Ernie was billeted in my village and we got to know each other performing in a Christmas pantomime.’ She glanced at Mike, who was smirking. ‘Honestly, that was all there was to it. He helped me with my Lambeth Walk.’
Mike snorted. ‘I’ll bet he did.’
Dilys gave Bobby an impressed nod. ‘Maybe you’re not so clueless after all, Bobsy. Sounded like he was keen to make a date with you.’
‘It wouldn’t be a date. It’s comforting to see a familiar face in a new place, that’s all – for both of us.’
‘He invited us to the NAAFI tomorrow,’ Mike said reverently. ‘I mean, we obviously have to go. He’s an officer, isn’t he? He could put us on a fizzer for disobeying orders.’
‘I doubt Stewpot’s going to see it that way,’ Bobby said, laughing. ‘Come on, let’s bimble over to the cookhouse. We’ll be at the back of the lunch queue as it is.’
‘This is wonderful though, Bobs.’ Carol claimed her arm and gave it a gleeful squeeze as they headed to the cookhouse, Dilys and Mike walking off ahead deep in gossipy conference.
‘Now you can tell me all about him, and if he can get us special permission from Stewpot so we can meet in the NAAFI, I can get my hands on him before any of the others. Quick, tell me everything you know.’
Bobby blinked. What did she know about Ernie, really? Not that much, now she came to think about it.
‘He’s from Alberta,’ she said. ‘His parents have a farm there.’
Carol’s eyes gleamed. ‘A farm like… a plantation? Like Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. That’s at the bottom of America, isn’t it? Ernie’s from near the Rocky Mountains.’
‘So he’s rich?’
Bobby laughed. ‘I have absolutely no idea, Car, I’ve never asked.’
‘What about brothers and sisters?’
‘I really couldn’t say. We only met last autumn, when we started rehearsing the pantomime. We haven’t talked much about anything personal.’
‘Oh.’ Carol sounded disappointed. ‘Well, you must at least know if he’s got a sweetheart at home. Or a wife, God forbid.’
Bobby frowned. ‘I don’t know actually. I presume not.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d have expected him to mention it. Besides, he was courting a mutual friend of ours before she married – the one we were just talking about, Topsy Nowak. Well, not courting exactly, but he definitely had his cap set at her.’
They had reached the cookhouse now, and joined the back of the queue.
‘If she’s just got wed then it’s the perfect time for me to sweep in and fill her place,’ Carol said, cheering up again. ‘You’ll help, won’t you? Put in a good word and all that?’
‘I doubt my good words will carry much weight, but I’ll do what I can,’ Bobby said, smiling. ‘Don’t be disappointed if he’s not interested though, Car. Ernie’s sort of… old-fashioned. A bit stuffy about certain things.’
‘What’s he old-fashioned about? He can’t be more than twenty-six.’
‘He’s got very definite ideas about men and women, and the roles they ought to play in life,’ Bobby told her.
‘He says the war’s making women less feminine.
Encouraging them into immoral behaviour, like drinking too much and picking up men.
We used to clash about it all the time – in a friendly sort of way, I mean. ’
‘Oh, he sounds just whizzo,’ Carol said dreamily.
Bobby glanced at her. ‘Really? I thought you joined the WAAF especially to have some of that sort of fun.’
‘Even so, I don’t want a husband who approves of all that, do I?
All it means is that he’ll be out drinking and picking up women while I’m stuck at home with a bunch of screaming brats.
Some lads are all right to have fun with, but when it comes to husbands, I want an old-fashioned gent who’ll look after me.
’ Her brow lowered. ‘Someone who’s the exact opposite of my dad. ’
‘I thought you wanted to enjoy yourself before settling.’
‘That was before I saw Ernie King,’ Carol said with another smitten sigh. ‘You won’t tell him, will you? What I said about wanting lots of boyfriends and all that? You can’t now we’re best friends.’
Bobby smiled. ‘I won’t breathe a word.’