A Sister’s War

Ronnie surreptitiously glanced behind her, sure that Maman would spring out of the shadows and confront her.

‘Yes, I saw a news clip at the cinema yesterday evening,’ she said. ‘It was about girls like me taking cargo from London to Birmingham and back again. I’d like to apply but they didn’t say how to do it.’

‘I wouldn’t think you were old enough to take part in something like that,’ Miss Lidbetter said, studying Ronnie intently.

‘I’m seventeen,’ Ronnie said, crossing her fingers behind her back, ‘and the man on Pathé News said some of the girls were my age.’

‘Hmm.’ Miss Lidbetter pursed her plump lips. ‘What do your parents say about this?’

What would Dad have said? She had no idea. But she knew exactly what to expect from Maman.

‘Oh, they know I’m looking into it, but there’s nothing definite yet,’ Ronnie said, squeezing her fingers more tightly together.

Miss Lidbetter sighed. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in your writing to them,’ she said eventually. ‘Then it will be down to your parents as to whether they give their permission.’

Ronnie sent what she hoped was a sweet smile in Miss Lidbetter’s direction. She tapped her foot while the librarian took her time rifling through a box of cards and finally pulled one out. She peered at it, then looked at Ronnie over the top of her glasses.

‘I believe you need to write to the Ministry of War Transport, dear. Would you like me to jot down the address?’

‘Oh, that would be marvellous … thank you.’

The librarian adjusted the comb at the side of her bun that was on the verge of falling out and took the pencil the helper offered. She wrote the address on a piece of scrap paper and handed it to Ronnie.

‘Be sure to listen to your parents when making a decision of this nature,’ she said. ‘You’d be doing a man’s job and you’re just a young girl. It’s not to be taken lightly.’

‘I’m really grateful, Miss Lidbetter,’ Ronnie said, tucking the precious piece of paper into her coat pocket, desperate to make her escape.

‘Are there any books you need today, dear?’

‘Oh, no, not at the moment.’ Ronnie smiled. ‘I’d better go. I’ve tied my dog up outside and he’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.’

She didn’t bother to inform Miss Lidbetter that the real truth was that it would be Maman she’d have to face when she got home – who would ask why had she been so long – not Rusty.

Ronnie wasted no time in writing a letter to the Ministry of War Transport, explaining that she’d seen a newsreel on Pathé News which had inspired her to apply for a position on the canal boats to haul cargo. Now she’d have to wait for a reply. It seemed as though she was always waiting. Surely this time she’d get the answer she was looking for.

And this time she wouldn’t let Maman come anywhere near it.

It was three weeks later when Micky turned up with the post at seven in the morning. Ronnie was up and dressed and had seen him walk up the path, but she’d given up now on the Ministry of Transport.

‘Morning, Micky. What have you got for us?’

‘One for your mother from that pilot sister of yours.’

Ronnie hid a smile, imagining how annoyed Maman would have been if she’d opened the door to the postboy who loved commenting on everyone’s letters. She glanced at the envelope. Yes, it was Raine’s large looping writing.

‘Anything else?’

‘Nah.’

The last flicker of hope died.

Then Micky glanced at the pile of envelopes in his hand, tightly bound together by an elastic band. ‘Oh, yes, sorry. One other. For you.’ He looked up. ‘It’s typed,’ he added as he handed her a long envelope, then hopped onto his bike.

‘Thanks, Micky,’ she called after him, but he just pulled his cap off and still with his back to her, put his hand up in the air and waved as he pedalled off.

She’d only been indoors long enough to put the kettle on when Maman called downstairs.

‘Véronique, please bring my post up to my room with my tea.’

Assuring Rusty she’d be down soon to give him his breakfast, Ronnie took the tray upstairs with the two letters. But first she went to her own room and tucked the typed envelope under her pillow, then picked up the tray again and knocked on her mother’s door.

‘Entre, chérie,’ Simone called.

‘Ah, the English cup of tea for all evils.’ Simone was sitting up in bed expectantly, her hair groomed, her make-up on, and wearing a white fluffy bed-jacket, looking for all the world like an actress who was waiting for the newspapers to be delivered giving the reviews of her successful first night.

‘I think you mean “ills”, Maman.’ Her mother’s eyes narrowed. She hated to be corrected on her English. ‘I’d bring you coffee if it wasn’t so scarce,’ Ronnie went on, ‘although there’s Camp if you’d prefer it to tea.’

‘Do not even use that word to me.’ Simone grimaced unattractively. ‘Camp! How can the manufacturers even pretend it is like coffee. It is more unlike coffee than any drink I can imagine.’

Ronnie laughed. ‘You’d better drink your tea then. And I have a letter from Lorraine for you.’ She used Raine’s full name on purpose. She mustn’t allow anything to put Maman in a difficult mood.

‘It will be for both of us, so hand me my letter-opener and come and sit by me. I will read it to you.’

Simone took the letter and carefully slit it open.

‘Dear Maman and Ronnie’ – Simone stopped and gave a deep sigh. ‘I so wish—’

‘Maman, you won’t stop her using “Ronnie”. Besides, I prefer it. Come on, I want to hear what Lorraine’s been doing.’

Simone shook her head but carried on reading:

‘I hope this finds you both well. I’m busy as usual but at least the pilot I’ve been filling in for is now back at work which has taken off some of the pressure. I have managed to get a decent sleep for the last two nights. But you know I’m not complaining – I love every minute of my job and still consider myself incredibly lucky.

‘Our American pilot, Dolores, brought us some luxury items from one of the American bases (as they call them) and she always shares everything with us. I now have two pairs of silk stockings – yes, two whole pairs! – a box of chocolates and a bar of soap smelling of roses just for me and a huge tin of biscuits she calls cookies for all of us. What a generous girl.

‘You will remember Stephanie who I invited for Christmas last year— Simone broke off and looked up. ‘Yes, I liked her, but I thought she was sad.’

‘She’s all right, isn’t she?’ Ronnie said anxiously.

Simone bent her head again, then smiled. ‘She is very much all right. It seems she has a nice boyfriend – although unfortunately he is another pilot.’

‘It must be difficult meeting men who aren’t pilots in that sort of place,’ Ronnie said.

‘Hmm. Now, where was I?’

‘Stephanie’s boyfriend.’

‘Oh, yes. Lorraine does not give any other details. Now she is talking of Miss Gower.’

‘That’s Raine’s boss,’ Ronnie said. ‘What does she say?’

Simone cleared her throat.

‘We women pilots have had some incredible news from Pauline Gower. She’s been telling the powers that be in the ATA that we take exactly the same risks as the men, work just as hard, and fly just as many different planes, yet we are paid a third lower in wages. After much arguing and persuasion they have actually agreed we are to have equal pay to the men! It’s not even the money so much as the acknowledgement that we’re every bit as good!’

Simone pursed her lips. ‘What is she saying – “it is not even the money”?’

‘I know exactly what she means,’ Ronnie interrupted. ‘It’s the principle of the thing. And the women have finally won!’ She jumped up from the bedside chair and clapped her hands. ‘Good for Miss Gower. Is there anything more?’

‘Non, just she sends her love to us and not to worry … she is fine. As if I can stop from worrying.’

‘She’s happy, Maman, and really that’s all that matters.’ She smiled at her mother but Simone didn’t smile back. ‘I’ll leave you to get dressed while I put the porridge on.’

‘Give me twenty minutes, please,’ Simone said, draining her cup.

Ronnie decided not to risk Maman bursting into her bedroom, demanding to see this particular letter and tearing it to shreds, so she retrieved it from under her pillow and ran down the stairs, Rusty flying after her, for once not barking. Outside, she unbolted the shed and perching on an upturned crate, ripped open the envelope. The heading in capitals and underlined was: MINISTRY OF WAR TRANSPORT. Her heart began to pound. She skimmed through the two-page letter trying to see if they’d accepted her, but she couldn’t tell so she took in a deep breath and read more slowly from the beginning:

Dear Miss Linfoot,

Re: Training Scheme for Women

Thank you for your letter. The training scheme for women is as follows:-

Training takes at least 8 weeks where you will learn to manage a pair of boats – the motorboat and the butty and how to load and unload cargo etc., as well as rudimentary training on care of the engine. You will live on the boats which will carry the cargo along the Grand Union Canal from London to Birmingham and back.

During training you will be paid £2 per week but you must pay for your own food, national insurance and all personal expenses. You should bring your ration books so we can arrange to issue Emergency Coupons. You may then make purchases in any part of the country. When you are able to operate the boats you will be allotted your own pair of boats working together with two other women.

After training, earnings of around £10 per week must be shared by the three crew members. This figure may vary according to the cargo and distance travelled etc. and will depend upon each member’s effort.

When you have completed two trips – usually around three weeks each – you may take three days off unpaid. The more trips you make, the more days you may take (unpaid). After a year you will be paid one week’s leave, and the same thereafter.

We must stress that you should be fit and healthy as you will be working long hours over a seven-day week.

If you are still interested in this vital war work, and are at least 17 years of age, then we will arrange for you to come for an interview at our offices.

Yours sincerely,

D. Hunter (Mrs)

Supervisor

Grand Union Canal Carrying Co.

They hadn’t turned her down! She hadn’t stated her age so she’d have to take a chance they wouldn’t ask for her birth certificate. After all, she’d be seventeen in December – only two months away. With a shiver of excitement she tucked the letter back into its envelope. She’d write back immediately. Then when they gave her a date to attend the interview, only then would she tell Maman her plans.

There was one problem even more insurmountable than Maman – and that was Rusty. Maman would never agree in a million years to look after him. She wondered if she could somehow smuggle him onto the boat. She read the letter again. There was no mention of not being able to take a dog aboard and she’d seen dogs on boats when she’d cycled to Keston Common with Rusty in the front basket. They’d always looked perfectly happy. She was sure Rusty would be thrilled to accompany her – and Maman would be delighted to be rid of him.

But would whoever was in charge of the training allow it?

Chapter Three

At the vet’s the following Saturday where Ronnie helped out and earned some useful pocket money, she stood on the opposite side of the table to Mr Lincoln. He was having to put down a perfectly healthy dog because the owner, an elderly lady, said she was no longer able to feed it. She hardly had enough income to keep herself together, she’d said, her chin trembling as she left the mongrel to his destiny.

If she didn’t already have Rusty, Ronnie would have immediately taken the little dog home, but the thought of Maman’s anger stopped her. Ronnie swallowed hard. This would have been Rusty’s fate if she hadn’t rescued him, and he’d been in a dreadful condition compared to this boy. She vowed never to witness something like that again. She’d have to confess to Mr Lincoln that she wasn’t cut out for this kind of work after all. Not that she was squeamish at assisting the vet with the most gory operations. She rose to the challenge just as she knew Mr Lincoln did. And the glow of happiness she felt every time an animal recovered and was back with its owner was all the reward she would ever want. She loved how Mr Lincoln would celebrate a job well done by making her a cup of tea instead of the other way round, and adding a finger of Kit-Kat in the saucer. But poor Oscar being lethally injected after looking up at her with such trusting eyes just moments ago sickened her.

She gulped back her tears and turned to blow her nose.

‘I hated doing that,’ Mr Lincoln said with a sigh. ‘Bad enough having four injured pets brought in yesterday evening, caused by a couple of ignorant youths throwing fireworks at them.’ He shook his head in disbelief.

‘Maman thought it was a bombing raid,’ Ronnie said. ‘I must say, Rusty shook with terror every time a banger exploded.’

‘If only the owners would keep their animals in on Guy Fawkes night,’ Mr Lincoln said. He listened to Oscar’s heart, then looked up. ‘He’s gone.’

Ronnie bit down hard on her lip. She mustn’t cry. It wouldn’t bring Oscar back.

‘This war is having such bad consequences on the animal kingdom. I would have taken the little fellow home with me if I hadn’t already taken in two poor little blighters in the last three months. And I tried for a week to find a home for this one.’

‘I know you did your best,’ Ronnie said, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gazed down at the young dog, now perfectly still.

The vet gently picked him up. ‘Let me just take Oscar next door.’

He was back in moments and went to the sink to wash his hands. He turned to her, drying his hands on the nearby roller towel.

‘You have a real way with animals, Ronnie, the way you comfort the animals when they’re in distress. So I have a proposition for you. How about you coming to work for me as my full-time assistant? I’d train you with the idea of putting you forward to take an exam to obtain a proper veterinary nursing qualification.’

Ronnie startled. This was totally unexpected. A proper job with a certificate at the end. One that even Maman might approve of. And she liked and trusted Mr Lincoln. He was a pleasure to work with and she loved his wry humour. She wanted to say yes immediately. She would have jumped at the chance if they weren’t in the middle of this blasted war. But was she being weak? She always prided herself on being a strong person who didn’t turn away from something unpalatable. Then she thought of Oscar. She knew she wouldn’t be able to face the needless destruction of animals day after day as a result of the strict food rationing. But it would be even worse for the animals if there weren’t kind vets like Mr Lincoln who carried out the senseless deed with tender-hearted feeling. Thank goodness he hadn’t ever turned his back.

‘What do you think, Ronnie? Does it appeal?’

‘Yes, it does – in many ways,’ she said truthfully. ‘You know I really wanted to join the Land Army. When the war started I loved digging our vegetable plots at home and seeing everything grow. They taste wonderful. It’s something I’m good at and I don’t even mind weeding. But the Land Army won’t have me. It’s so ridiculous. You have to be seventeen and a half, and I’m not seventeen until December. So for the sake of a few months they’ve turned me down. They said to apply again in a year and I was bound to be successful, but the war will probably be over with by then and I won’t have done my bit.’

‘I doubt very much that the war will be over within the year,’ Mr Lincoln said, ‘but you’re obviously looking for more of an outdoor life.’ She nodded. ‘Well, I can see why the Land Army would have appealed but you’re going to have difficulty getting in anywhere at your young age. So why don’t you think about working here.’ He smiled. ‘There’s no need to come back to me with an answer straightaway. Take your time. It’s a big decision.’

Ronnie took in a breath. She could confide in Mr Lincoln. He would never repeat anything she said in confidence.

‘There is another possibility,’ she said. ‘I’ve got an interview next week with the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company.’

Mr Lincoln raised his brows. ‘Working on the canals? My goodness, Ronnie, that’s backbreaking work. Mind you, I think you’re physically strong and you’re a most determined young lady, so you’ll probably survive – maybe even enjoy it.’ He took his glasses off and studied her. ‘Well, I’m disappointed if that’s your decision, but if you need a reference, I’ll be more than happy to provide one.’

‘Thank you, Mr Lincoln. That’s kind of you.’ She paused. ‘There is one thing. My dog, Rusty. Do you think I’ll be able to take him with me on the canal?’

‘As far as Rusty’s concerned, he’d love it,’ Mr Lincoln smiled, ‘but you’ll have to ask permission at the interview. On second thoughts it’s probably better to wait and see how you settle in first in case it doesn’t turn out how you think it will.’ He paused. ‘I’ll be sorry to lose you, Ronnie. When the war’s over I hope you’ll consider my offer – that is, if I haven’t got someone permanent by then.’ He chuckled. ‘But I don’t suppose they’ll be queuing up. It’s not an easy option here for a young person.’

‘But I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it – except today with poor Oscar,’ Ronnie said, hoping she wasn’t making a terrible mistake by pursuing the canal work. ‘And if the canal people don’t take me on, I would love to come and work for you.’

The doorbell sounded.

‘That’ll be Mrs King with her poorly hamster. At least with his diet he’s safe enough.’ Mr Lincoln gave a rueful smile as he laid an old but spotlessly clean white pillowcase on the table. ‘Can you bring her and Hammy in, please, Ronnie?’

Ronnie mentally counted the days to her interview. Only six more. How on earth was she going to tell her mother she was going to London? Maman would forbid her to go. London is too dangerous, she’d say. You don’t know London. You’ve never been there. And most definitely I will not allow you to go on your own. And why would you want to, anyway? Her mother would insist upon accompanying her. Worse than that, it wouldn’t end there. Maman wouldn’t rest until she’d ferreted out the reason for her daughter’s sudden desire to go to London and would be watching her from now on. Ronnie shook her head. No, it was impossible.

And then it came to her. She would say she was meeting Raine. Better still, if Raine could really get a few hours off and go to Southall with her, then Maman couldn’t accuse her of telling a lie.

‘Beatrice Mortimer has invited me for a real cup of coffee,’ Maman said when Ronnie walked through the door after attending to the vegetables, ‘but I will be back for lunch. I have made a soup. Please have the table laid ready and slice some bread.’

Ronnie wrinkled her nose. Her mother wasn’t best known for her soups – or any of her cooking, for that matter. But at least she’d have the house to herself and could telephone her sister in private.

‘All right, Maman. Tell her I said “hello”.’

The front door shut. All was wonderfully silent. Ronnie went straight to the telephone.

‘Oh, operator, could you please put me through to the aerodrome at White Waltham?’

After half a minute a woman’s voice said, ‘What department, miss?’

‘The Air Transport Auxiliary. I’m trying to reach Lorraine Linfoot – one of the pilots,’ she added proudly.

‘Your name?’

‘Ronnie Linfoot – her sister.’

‘One moment, please.’

The minutes ticked by. Then there was the sound of a click.

‘Ronnie, is something wrong?’ Raine’s voice was breathless, as though she’d been running hard.

‘No, nothing really,’ Ronnie said, delighted her sister was there. ‘I just wondered if you could meet me in London on Friday?’

‘London?’

‘Yes. I’ve never been and I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to have a proper day together. We never have,’ she finished.

There was a pause. Then Raine said, ‘I’m not due a day off until Monday. Would that do?’

‘No. You see I’m meeting someone on Friday.’

The line crackled. All she could hear was Raine saying ‘important’.

‘It is important,’ Ronnie said.

‘Are you meeting a boy?’

‘Don’t be daft. I’ll tell you about it when I see you. Is there a chance –?’

More crackling. Ronnie shook the receiver in frustration.

‘– I could swap?’ Raine finished, and Ronnie could imagine her older sister’s eyes gleaming with the idea of a secret. ‘No one’s going to jump at giving up a Friday for a Monday, but I could probably persuade someone. I’ll see what I can do and phone you back. It might not be until this evening as you only just caught me. I’ve got a couple of deliveries to do.’

‘That would be marvellous. I’d clap my hands if I wasn’t holding the receiver.’

Raine chuckled, then said, ‘Where’s Maman at the moment?’

‘Having coffee with Mrs Mortimer.’

‘Oh, James’s mother. I’ve still not met her, but Suzy says she’s lovely.’

‘I have, and she is,’ Ronnie said.

‘Right then, I must go. Give Maman my love. I’ll have a word with her as well this evening.’

‘Thanks, Raine.’

Ronnie put the receiver down. If her sister could organise the swap it would take a load off her mind.

The telephone rang just after six. Ronnie sprang up to grab it but her mother, who was in the front room, got to the hall first.

‘Is it Raine?’ she mouthed.

Simone put her finger to her lips. There was a long pause. Ronnie was just about to go back to the kitchen when she heard her mother say:

‘This is Mrs Linfoot, Véronique’s mother.’

Another frustrating pause. Ronnie was beside herself with curiosity.

‘Oui, I know. I can give her a message.’

‘Maman, please let me take it.’

Ronnie put out her hand for the receiver but Simone held on to it.

‘Shhhh!’ She turned her back to Ronnie. ‘Excusez-moi,’ she said into the mouthpiece.

‘Yes, I will pass on the message. I am sure she will do this.’

‘Maman, please …’

‘I did not quite hear.’ Her mother gripped the receiver more firmly and the caller spoke for some moments. ‘Oh, yes, she did mention it.’ She nodded. ‘Yes, I hope so, too. Thank you, monsieur.’ She replaced the receiver.

‘Maman—’

‘That was your Mr Lincoln,’ Simone said, walking back to the front room. Ronnie followed. ‘He asked if you could go in tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. He needs you to stay with some animals while he is gone no more than two hours. You heard me. I said I was sure you will do this. You may telephone him to confirm.’

‘Why didn’t you let me tell him there and then?’

‘Because he said something very interesting. He asked me if I could persuade you to accept his offer to work for him permanently.’ Simone regarded Ronnie and sighed. ‘But you have not told me this.’

Ronnie’s chest tightened. ‘He only mentioned it yesterday as I was leaving.’

‘Surely that is important enough to discuss with your maman.’

‘I was going to, but I wanted to make a decision first. He asked me to think about it before giving an answer.’

‘You must know if you would like to work for this man … and do you not love animals?’