Maddie waited in the room next to the garage. She wasn’t alone. Lots of
other drivers and mechanics were hanging around waiting for their
assignments as well. Some were sitting, like her; others were caged lions,
pacing back and forth. The lance corporal who normally handed out the
rotas was nowhere to be seen. The woman had disappeared an hour ago
after bellowing orders that all drivers were to ‘stand by’ and await further
instructions.
Every so often one of the younger women would grumble about the
hold-up, but Maddie was content to sit and wait and enjoy the respite.
Especially after yesterday, when there’d been palpable excitement in the air,
as well as curious theories about Hitler’s death. And work was frenzied.
Maddie had christened it ‘Manic Monday’, and she’d fallen into bed late
last night, exhausted. She’d spent the day ferrying officers between the War
Office and different government ministries non-stop. Her vehicle log had
taken up three whole sheets, and nowhere on there had it mentioned lunch.
Or tea. So, not only had she gone to bed late, but hungry and cranky as
well. And this morning, she’d woken up with a headache.
Two WVS volunteers arrived and set up trestle tables at the far end of
the room. Another pushed a trolley with a tea urn on it and a stack of plates.
‘Know what’s up?’ asked a young woman, who’d sidled up to Maddie.
‘Not a clue,’ said Maddie. ‘I guess we’ll find out.’
‘You’re not curious?’
‘It’s the army,’ said Maddie. ‘They’ll tell us when they’re ready.’
‘The trusting type, eh?’ said the woman. She gave Maddie a sarcastic
smile.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Know what I think? None of ’em’s got a clue what the hell’s going on.’
The voice held a challenge in it.
Maddie closed her eyes, ignoring the woman. She wasn’t often rude, but
she had a fierce headache and the young woman wasn’t making it any
better. Maddie had met her type before. Barrack-room lawyers, they were
called and most people ignored them for they were always ready to
complain about something, trying to stir up trouble where none existed.
Making bullets for other people to fire.
‘Charmed, I’m sure.’ The woman walked off in a huff.
The WVS ladies returned with another trolley, the smell of food wafting
from it. And a small procession of officers arrived; one of them, a captain
Maddie had never seen before, lifted a ladle and banged it noisily on the
table.
‘Ladies, ladies! May I have your attention, please?’
A hush fell over the room and everyone who’d been sitting sprang to
attention, firing off a ragged volley of salutes.
‘At ease, ladies.’ The captain smiled. ‘You’ve all done an incredible job
and I’m proud of you. It’s not been easy – long hours, battling through
blackouts… and yesterday… well, I expect there are many of you
exhausted today.’
A few heads nodded in reply. There were some ironic smiles as well.
And Maddie heard a theatrical cough.
‘Right,’ said the officer. ‘These ladies behind me will be serving you all
breakfast. You’ve earned it. After that, there will be new orders posted with
the dailies in the office. Most of you won’t be going out today. Instead, you
may return to your billets and at fifteen hundred hours, you would be well
advised to turn on your wireless sets. You will be on the rota for a forty
eight-hour pass.’ She smiled. ‘Some of you will need it, I feel sure. And
when you return to duty, there will be further instructions from your section
head. Carry on, Corporal.’ She turned to the small woman beside her,
nodded and handed the corporal the serving ladle, like handing off a baton.
Once the captain left, the noise in the room grew to a din. Drivers and
mechanics asking questions, everyone speaking at once. To be given
breakfast? This wasn’t normal. And a forty-eight-hour pass?
The corporal wielded the ladle with military precision and a hush fell
over the room. ‘You heard the officer,’ she said. ‘Form an orderly line for
breakfast and when you’ve finished, you may come to the office to read
your new orders. Only three at a time, please – the clerks already have their
hands full in there. Carry on, ladies.’
Breakfast was wonderful. Maddie had seconds, to make up for
yesterday’s shortfall of food, and when she finally made it to the office,
only the lance corporal was there.
‘You’re on a forty-eight. Report back at oh-eight hundred hours on
Thursday. Dismissed, Private.’
Maddie made it home around lunchtime and fell wearily into a chair in
the lounge. She’d walked back to the billet, from one side of London to the
other. The buses were sometimes hit-and-miss, but today had been one of
their miss days. She thought back to the strange morning and the way the
forty-eight-hour passes had been handed out like confetti. Odd. And there
had still been an odd tension in the air. There’d been speculation that the
war was over, but no one could be sure.
She should do something to celebrate her unexpected leave but the
house was silent and cold. No one to share this free time with. And that’s
when the idea came to her.
She would use some of the week’s coal ration and build a fire. She
imagined the others would be pleased, coming home to a warm house.
The ashes had been cleaned out, but no one had set the fire in the grate
yet. Still, there was something therapeutic about twisting newspaper into
concertina firelighters and crisscrossing the shavings of kindling around it
like a wigwam. She placed small nuggets of coal carefully around the whole
construction. There was an art to coaxing a fire into life, but it was one
Maddie had mastered during these frugal years of rationing. And there was
a special magic when you stared into the flames bursting into life with their
incandescent colours: orange, yellow, red and sometimes a strange blue
haze. It was a kind of alchemy.
She sat back on her heels in front of the fire, watching with satisfaction
as the flames grew and made their way up the chimney to the sky above.
That’s when the unexpected clatter of heavy shoes and a cheerful whistling
announced her friend Gertie’s arrival.
‘Get you,’ said Gertie. ‘Throwing coal around like we lived in Buck
House.’
‘It was freezing,’ said Maddie. ‘Besides, it’s a celebration – I’ve been
given leave.’
‘You too? The mess officer just sent me home and gave me this. Told
me to enjoy myself.’ Gertie produced a bottle from her rucksack. It was
half-full and she held it up to the light so that the liquid inside shone like
amber.
‘Brandy?’ said Maddie, confused. ‘Sergeant Johnson gave you a half
bottle of brandy? Why would the grumpy old guy do that?’
‘Said we should both enjoy ourselves, Madds. Don’t know what he
meant but he winked as well.’
‘Maybe he fancies you, Gert.’ Maddie grinned.
‘Shouldn’t think so. He spends most of his time complainin’ I ain’t up
to snuff.’
‘All bark and no bite, though,’ said Maddie. ‘He hasn’t got the teeth for
it.’
They both giggled at that. Sergeant Johnson was always having trouble
keeping his loose-fitting false teeth in place.
‘Right, let’s have the last of the cheese,’ said Gertie. ‘I’m starved. And
maybe a nip of that brandy.’
‘But it’s the middle of the day!’ said Maddie. ‘It’ll send me to sleep.’
‘No, it won’t and that’s an order, Private.’ Her friend sniggered. ‘Get
your feet up, enjoy the fire and I’ll make you lunch. Got to look after you
pensioners.’
‘Cheeky monkey! I still got some useful mileage in me,’ said Maddie.
All the same, it was good to be fussed over.
‘And put the wireless on,’ ordered Gertie as she headed for the kitchen
to do battle with the hard bread.
Maddie hummed to herself as she thought about an afternoon away
from work, sitting by a blazing fire, listening to music on the wireless and
drinking brandy.
Life didn’t get much better than this.
Life did get better. A whole, humongous, incredible lot better. They both
drank their brandy and battled their way through heels of stale bread that, as
Gertie pointed out, would have been a challenge to Sergeant Johnson and
his dodgy teeth. And just before three o’clock in the afternoon, a BBC
Home Service announcer warned that listeners should stand by for a very
special programme. Then there was a loud trumpet fanfare. And that was
the moment that life truly got better.
Mr Churchill addressed the nation in his usual charismatic way.
The war was over.
The Germans had signed an unconditional surrender the day before and
Churchill called for national celebrations. But he warned that it wasn’t the
end. Victory! But only in Europe. He was calling it VE Day.
Maddie grabbed her friend, hugged her and rushed out excitedly onto
the street with Gertie in her wake. They passed an old woman draped in a
Union Jack flag, sitting on her front step, a massive grin on her face. There
were people everywhere, shouting, laughing, waving flags.
She joined a conga line making its way along Sunnyfield and, in an
ambitious move, not unlike the impressive choreography of the Lindy Hop,
she pulled Gertie into its line.
She could feel the uninhibited joy, the excitement pulsing through
people as they clung to the person in front. The strange line of dancers
wobbled its precarious way along the middle of the road, tall people, small
people, old people, young people; people whose pinched, grey, worried
wartime faces of yesterday had miraculously transformed into beaming,
happy faces. Two lorries stopped to make way for them all, honking their
horns in celebration. It was as if a wonderful madness had gripped
everyone. People laughing, kissing strangers.
Maddie broke away from the line, dragging Gertie with her. They linked
arms, marched along the pavement together, grinning the same idiotic grin
that was on faces all around them. Freedom. Liberation. They were words
that went round and round in Maddie’s head. Suddenly, miraculously, they
were cut free – untethered from the fear that had held them down. The fear
of dying. The fear of losing friends. The fear of never feeling normal again.
‘Let’s go up town,’ said Maddie.
‘What, now?’
‘Sure. It’s what we should do, celebrate properly. The Strand. Trafalgar
Square. The Mall. Whatever… Let’s just go mad. And Gert?’
‘What?’
‘Let’s get the brandy. That’s what he meant it for. The sergeant must
have known.’
They went back home for the brandy – and their army greatcoats. It
looked like being a long night, but one to remember.
The excitement was at fever pitch. Strangers hugging each other like long
lost friends, dancing ‘The Lambeth Walk’, all packed together like sardines
wriggling in their cans.
On the Strand, they were hoisted up onto the back of an open army
lorry. Maddie clung on precariously and when a bump in the road
threatened to dislodge her, a uniformed soldier hauled her back. He held her
tightly round the waist and planted an exuberant kiss on her lips. It was the
first of many kisses from total strangers but it was all in good sport, part of
the atmosphere of euphoria and boisterous happiness that enveloped
London and its people that night.
When the road became blocked by hundreds of revellers, they
abandoned the lorry and joined the mass of bodies pressing on towards The
Mall.
‘Let’s go and see the king,’ yelled Maddie over the racket. ‘And
Churchill. I want to see Churchill!’
It took ages to get through the roaring crowds lining The Mall but
Maddie was insistent: she wanted to get as close to the gates of
Buckingham Palace as she could. She intended to see Churchill and the
king and queen, and maybe even Princess Elizabeth would be there. The
princess was one of them, just like her and Gertie. In the ATS. A driver and
mechanic. It had been brave of her to push to join up, to be normal – and for
the king to let her.
Someone handed her a bottle of brown ale and she shared it with Gertie.
She didn’t want to get blotto and miss out on the excitement. They’d
already had some of the brandy and Gertie carried the rest of the bottle in
her backpack.
Maddie thought back to the captain’s words that morning. About the
forty-eight-hour pass and how some of them would need it. She’d imagined
that was because of their exhaustion from long hours on duty, but it hadn’t
meant that at all. The officer had known about this. Had suspected there
were some who would have sore heads tomorrow, would need the time off.
They bludgeoned their way through the dense crowd, Maddie in front,
refusing to be knocked off course. And by some miracle and a lot of good
natured banter when toes had been stood on and folks elbowed out of her
way, Maddie made her objective. Close enough to the palace to see the
figures already out on the balcony. Churchill was there, right next to the
king and queen. The rightful place for him, she felt.
Someone behind them knocked her uniform cap off and she struggled to
retrieve it, but the old man gave her a good-natured, toothless grin and
replaced it with a party hat. She smiled at him. There was no room for anger
that night – there’d been enough of that. Churchill’s words were awe
inspiring, their power resonating, amplified through many speakers placed
around the vast space. Words that seemed to find their way straight to the
hearts of people, for the cheering was so loud from the thousands packed in
front of the palace and all the way down The Mall that the prime minister
had to stop until the noise died down.
Maddie’s throat was raw from screaming and cheering along with the
rest. But when she turned to Gertie, she saw that her friend was silent and
tears were streaming down her grief-stricken face. Bill… Of course it would
be Bill. Victory was great, but for Gertie it must be bittersweet. Bill had
helped to pay for it, but he couldn’t be there to enjoy it. Or take his wife
dancing. There would be a sad stock-taking now, not only for her friend
Gertie but for millions around the world.
But that was for tomorrow. That night was for celebration. Maddie
thought about the other people, in countries far away from here. The Allies
would be celebrating too, wouldn’t they? Would the lights all be blazing in
Paris now, as they were here in London? That was an amazing thing. A
crazy, wonderful thing when you were used to a blackout: to see the lights
blazing away on The Mall, and Buckingham Palace lit up like it was
Christmas.
She took Gertie’s hand, squeezed it in a gesture of understanding. And
Gertie smiled at her. Nodded her head. Mouthed the words, ‘It’s okay.’ And
maybe it would be okay. But losing your husband, losing your family, your
friends – it wasn’t something that would soon be forgotten, and neither
should it be.
Gertie had found a soulmate, only to have him ripped from her grasp.
And although they had only known each other for an eye blink in time,
Maddie felt the same way about Rudi. She hadn’t forgotten him. And didn’t
think she ever could. They had shared something powerful. It had felt
natural to love him, and she knew he felt the same way for he’d told her so.
Where was he now? Was he free or a prisoner? And if he was, he would
hardly be celebrating, not like her and Gertie, or these Londoners, and
people throughout the country. Folk would be celebrating in France, in
Belgium, in Holland, in New York, all over the place. But the one country
that wouldn’t be having parties that night would be Germany. Rudi’s family
wouldn’t be celebrating, would they?
‘Let’s go, shall we?’ said Gertie, suddenly.
‘Go? Go where?’
‘Don’t know. Feels weird being trapped here. Need to breathe,’ said
Gertie, her breath coming out in short bursts. Her eyes had a wild look of
panic in them.
Maddie reached for her friend, held her up by the elbow, for Gertie’s
legs had buckled under her. And now Maddie was worried, tried to stay
calm. Collapsing in the middle of such a massive, excited crowd would be
dangerous: a person could easily get trampled and others might not even
notice.
She turned to the man next to her, tugged urgently at his uniform,
pulling him towards her. The American airman laughed and kissed Maddie
smack on the mouth. His breath smelled of something strange, something
she hadn’t come across before. She didn’t kiss him back. Instead, Maddie
shouted in the young man’s ear.
‘Can you help us? I need to get my friend out of here – she’s ill.’
‘Ma’am,’ he said, politely, and gave a mock salute. ‘We’re allies, ain’t
we?’ He winked.
And in a night full of weird and wonderful happenings, it didn’t seem
out of place, this young man grappling with her friend Gertie, pushing her
through the sea of humanity. Most people were good-humoured and gave
way. Some, Maddie noted, were downright squiffy. Pubs had been handing
out free beer most of the day. Hopefully, chemists would be handing out
free aspirins tomorrow.
It took the three of them almost an hour to make it down The Mall. The
man – his name turned out to be Al – left them there and carried on to
Trafalgar Square, but Maddie steered her friend towards the park. Maybe
the crowds were thinner there and they could sit and catch a breath and
watch the ducks. Were the pelicans and ducks back in St James’s Park? Had
they even left? Maddie didn’t know. The last time she’d been there, there
had been no war. Now it had a massive air raid shelter in it.
‘Well,’ said Maddie, after they’d collapsed onto the grass. ‘Quite a
night. Feeling better?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You gave me a scare.’
‘Sorry. Not sure what happened there. Panicked, I guess.’
‘All those people,’ said Maddie. ‘Claustrophobic.’
‘Yeah.’ Gertie blew out some air. ‘Some of ’em weren’t bad-looking
neither,’ she said. ‘Specially that last one.’
‘Our knight in armour, you mean.’ Maddie laughed.
‘You get his name and address?’ asked Gertie.
‘His name was Al. And no – I didn’t get his address.’
‘Missed your chance there, girl. And those baby blues? Gorgeous. Like
a film star.’
‘Thought you were too busy fainting to notice,’ said Maddie.
‘I was poorly, not dead. Blond hair too. Not like a bloke. Reckon he
dyes it?’
‘God, Gert! How would I know? I only just met the bloke.’
Gertie reached down and took the brandy from her rucksack. ‘Might as
well finish it.’
It was a cold night. A good-enough excuse for finishing off the brandy.
And it wasn’t as if they’d be able to get back home before morning now. So
they drank, sitting on the ground in the park, huddled up in their army
greatcoats. Watching people passing by. Gazing in awe at fireworks going
off in the distance.
‘You still want to do that thing like you said, Madds – you and me in a
house somewhere?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘By the sea?’
‘Hope so.’ Maddie smiled. And the sigh of contentment that came from
the friend beside her – well, it couldn’t all be about the brandy.
‘That bloke…’
‘What bloke?’ asked Maddie.
‘Our rescuer,’ said Gertie. She had trouble with the word. Tiredness and
alcohol taking their toll.
‘Al. He said his name was Al.’
‘Yeah, Al. Blondie,’ said Gertie. ‘Looked kind of German, don’t you
think? Jesus, Madds! You don’t think he was a German, do you?’
‘No. How could a German be walking along The Mall? He was a full
blooded American GI. Chewed gum the whole time.’
‘Yeah, but how can you be sure?’
‘He was no German. I’ve met a German,’ said Maddie. ‘I know a
German,’ she said wistfully.
‘You do? How? Who—?’
‘Can’t tell you that, Gert.’
‘But I’m your best mate,’ said Gertie.
‘You are. Friends forever,’ agreed Maddie. ‘But I can’t tell you. Not
now, not yet. It’s not safe.’
‘What?! That don’t make sense.’
‘It will – one day. I’ll tell you one day. That’s a promise.’ Maddie stared
off into the distance and tried to remember his face. A feeling of panic
gripped her. Rudi. How could it be that she’d forgotten his face?
