Pam Weaver - Pack Up Your Troubles

‘Three o’clock,’ said a man’s voice behind them. Connie turned sharply to look at him. Sure enough, he was putting his cigarette case into his inside jacket pocket and was reaching for a lighter. He lit the fag between his lips and took a long drag. ‘That’s what the copper on the steps told me,’ he went on. ‘Three o’clock.’

A wave of relief flooded over her. The man was old, forty or maybe fifty with greying hair and a tobacco-stained moustache. It was all right. It wasn’t him. Connie relaxed and looked at her watch. It was quarter past ten. A group of Girl Guides gathered together at the base of Nelson’s column and were turning around to face the crowd. If the authorities were planning to entertain them, the man must be right. Churchill wouldn’t be giving his speech for ages yet.

‘Rene!’ A girl’s voice rang out above the noise. ‘Rene Thompson, it’s me, Barbara.’

Rene searched the sea of faces and eventually spotted her friend waving as she came towards her. ‘Barbara Hopkins. Well, as I live and breathe. Fancy seeing you here!’

Laughing, the two girls hugged each other. Barbara, dressed in her WAAF uniform, was thickset with very dark curly hair. The girl with her was dressed in civvies and hung back shyly.

‘I haven’t set eyes on you since our training,’ Rene cried happily and Barbara hugged her again. ‘Oooh, it’s so good to see you.’

They stepped apart and introduced everybody.

‘This is Eva O’Hara,’ said Barbara. Eva was tall but with an almost elfin-like face, and a lot of laughter lines around her eyes. She wore dark slacks and a pale blue hand-knitted jumper.

‘And this is Connie,’ said Rene. ‘We share the same billet.’ The hand shaking was soon over and somehow or other the girls had reached one of the fountains in the middle of the square. The day was warm and the water inviting and while Rene and Barbara caught up with old times, Connie, unable to resist, began to roll up the legs of her slacks. ‘Come on,’ she laughed. ‘Which one of you is game for a paddle?’

After a feeble protest from the others, Eva rolled up the legs of her slacks as well. As she climbed in, a sailor gave her a hand and then he rolled up his trouser legs and stepped in. The water was cold, but not unbearable, and it came just above their knees. The sailor and his mate, who joined them, were taller than Connie and Eva so there was less chance of them getting their clothes wet. The sailors were nice looking lads. One had brown Brylcreemed hair and a ready smile and the other one had fairer hair and slightly bucked teeth. He plonked his cap on Connie’s head as they stood together. The blond one carried a knobbly walking stick and Connie wondered if he had some sort of injury, but she didn’t like to ask. They all had to hold on to each other because the bottom of the fountain was covered in algae and a bit slippery. If they weren’t careful, they’d all be under the water and soaked. The singing grew louder.

‘There’ll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover …’ The two girls swayed with the sailors as they sang and after a few minutes, the sailor’s cap began to push Connie’s rich chestnut-coloured hair out of place. She wore her hair with curls on the top of her head and pulled away from her face. When her comb landed in the water, her hair fell in attractive loose tendrils around her face. The sailor bent to pick the comb up and at the same time spotted a newspaper photographer taking pictures.

‘Here you are, mate’ he called. ‘Two pretty girls and two good looking sailors. What more could you want for the front page?’

The photographer came over and the sailor planted a kiss on Connie’s cheek as the shutter came down. Connie wasn’t offended but she gave him a playful shove before he was tempted to take any more liberties. She didn’t want Emmett or her own mother to see a picture of her kissing someone else on the front page of the paper and despite the improbabilities, she found herself scouring the faces in the crowd.

‘Which paper are you from?’ laughed Eva as the four of them posed again.

‘ Daily Sketch ,’ said the photographer before moving on.

Connie heaved a sigh of relief. None of her family read the Daily Sketch and with a bit of luck, her great aunt (they called her Ga) had never even heard of it.

Their legs were getting cold so the four of them climbed out of the water and Connie gave the sailor his cap back. She and Eva only had handkerchiefs to dry their legs but they didn’t care. They held on to each other because in the surging crowd it was difficult to keep a balance on one leg while drying the other. Someone shouted a name, and waving, the two sailors merged back into the crowd.

‘You in the WAAFs as well?’ Connie asked Eva. It seemed very likely considering that her friend Barbara was in uniform.

Eva nodded. ‘And you?’

Connie nodded too.

‘Did you and Rene come on your own?’

‘Actually my boyfriend was meant to be here but he couldn’t come.’

‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’

Connie shook her head. ‘He’s got a sick mother.’

‘I hope it’s not too serious,’ Eva remarked.

Connie shook her head. It was funny that Mrs Gosling always seemed to be ill whenever she and Emmett had something planned but as soon as the thought went through her head, she scolded herself for being so churlish. Nobody could help being ill, could they?

‘No doubt my lot will all be back home and listening to the radio,’ Eva said. ‘My parents are at home and my brother is in the Royal Engineers. He’s still being kept quite busy, and will be for a long time, I’m afraid. He’s in the bomb squad.’

Connie frowned sympathetically. ‘That must be tough on you.’

‘I try not to think about it,’ Eva smiled. ‘What about you? Do you have brothers and sisters?’

‘A brother two years older than me,’ said Connie with a sigh, ‘and a little sister called Mandy. She’s just coming up for six.’

‘What about your brother? Is he in the army?’

Connie shook her head and willed her voice not to crack as she said matter-of-factly, ‘We lost touch.’

Eva stopped what she was doing and looked up. ‘I’m sorry.’

Connie looked away, embarrassed. It wasn’t bloody fair. Families should be together, especially at times like this. Her emotions were all over the place. After her scare of a few minutes ago, now she was fighting the urge to cry. She looked around. ‘Have you seen my other shoe?’

Eva shoved it towards her with the end of her foot.

‘Thanks,’ Connie smiled, glad that Eva hadn’t asked any more questions. She looked at her watch. It was still only 11.30 a.m. If they stayed here, they were in for a long wait and it wasn’t as if Churchill would be coming in person. He was only going to speak over the loudspeakers. Connie blew out her cheeks. She was bored. She wanted something more memorable to happen. Something she could tell her children and grandchildren about when she was old and grey.

‘Let’s go to Buckingham Palace,’ she said suddenly.

Barbara looked around helplessly. ‘Where will we get a bus?’

‘We can walk from here,’ said Eva. ‘It’s not that far.’

They pushed their way back through the crowd and when they finally reached the fringes, all four of them struck out for Buckingham Palace. Rene and Barbara linked arms and walked on ahead so Connie walked with Eva. With a lack of anything else to say, they shared their war experiences.

‘So, where do you come from?’ asked Eva dodging a drunk man staggering along the pavement in the opposite direction.

‘Worthing. It’s on the south coast, near Brighton.’

‘Really?’ Eva laughed. ‘How weird. My folks live near there.’