Time Shall Reap Page 30

  The officer’s face was grave when she admitted the girl to her quarters. ‘Ah, it’s you, Fullerton. I was going to speak to you in the morning. Pat Haggarty’s missing, and I believe you and she were good friends?’

  ‘I’ve just found out about it, Ma’am, but what ...’

  ‘We don’t know what’s happened. All I’ve been able to find out is that she received a letter yesterday, but whether it had any connection ...’

  ‘She’s been writing to a boy overseas.’ Laura’s voice sounded strangled. ‘Maybe he wrote to tell her he’d found somebody else. Oh God, Ma’am, that would have finished her.’

  ‘I assumed she was sick when she didn’t come on duty this morning, and it wasn’t until lunchtime that I discovered no one had seen her since last night. Do you have any idea where she might be?’

  ‘She hasn’t gone home to Glasgow, because I’ve just come from her mother’s house. It must have been something in that letter that ... can I do anything to help?’

  ‘See if you can find it in her locker.’

  Laura was rummaging through Pat’s belongings before she even realized what she was doing, and when she found the letter under a pile of underclothes she read it with no compunction.

  Dear Pat Haggarty,

  I’m very sorry to have to tell you that Pat Sandison was killed when enemy planes strafed our camp yesterday. I found some letters from you amongst his things and I thought you should know. I can only say again how sorry I am, and if it’s any comfort, he was always speaking about you, and I’m sure he loved you very much.

  Sincerely, Bill Davis.

  PS I’m going to miss him, too.

  We were good buddies.

  Sinking down on her own bed, Laura stared into space, her heart filling with black anger.

  ‘Was it bad news?’ Jenny Porter was standing beside her.

  Laura nodded miserably. ‘Her boyfriend’s been killed.’ Her feelings overpowering her, she said, viciously, ‘And the boy she was engaged to before was killed, too, so you see how bloody wrong you were about her?’

  Jenny looked contrite. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry for what I said before. I hope she’s OK, wherever she is.’

  ‘So do I!’ Laura rose and went back to the CO.

  The woman looked up sympathetically from the letter. ‘Poor child, this must have been quite a blow to her.’

  ‘Her fiancé was killed about two and a half years ago.’

  ‘Oh, no! She must have been out of her mind at getting this, then. I’d better contact her mother to see if she’s gone home now, but I’ll have a search party sent out in the morning. I think you should go on duty as usual tomorrow, Fullerton. It will be worse for you if you brood about it.’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Laura returned to the hut, wishing fervently that she had been there when that letter arrived. Pat might not have taken it so badly if there had been a shoulder to cry on.

  At eleven o’clock the following morning, she was called to the CO’s office, and knew, even before she went in, what she was going to hear. ‘Sit down, Fullerton.’ The officer’s voice was serious, her expression compassionate. ‘They found your friend’s body at the bottom of the gorge beside the old Castle. We’ll never know if she went with the intention of throwing herself over, or if it was an accident, and I know it won’t help, but I’m very, very sorry. Your sergeant has already identified her, so there’s no need for you to see her. In fact, it would be better if you remembered her the way you saw her last. I have already notified her mother.’

  ‘Oh, poor Mrs Haggarty.’ Laura’s throat constricted. ‘It’ll be a terrible shock to her – they were very close.’

  ‘It’s a great tragedy. It’s the people who are left behind who have the burden to bear.’ Showing how upset she was, the CO fiddled briefly with some papers on her desk, then said, ‘You are excused duty today, and you will be allowed to attend your friend’s funeral – even if Mrs Haggarty wants it to be in Glasgow.’

  ‘May I have permission to leave the camp, Ma’am, just for a short time? I ... I’d like to be on my own.’ Noticing the narrowing of her officer’s eyes, Laura said, hastily, ‘I’m not going to do anything stupid, I just want to have some time to think.’

  When she went through the gates, she turned towards the open countryside. She had often walked this way with Pat, and the memory released the tears – welcome, welcome tears.

  Old Wick Castle was grim and forbidding, the gorge was dark and deep. Laura was certain that Pat had jumped and could understand why. Even with only sadness and pity in her heart, the chasm drew her like a magnet, and Pat Haggarty had felt much more than sadness, much more than pity, at Pat Sandison’s death. She had likely been trying to come to terms with the second tragedy to strike her, and the depressing atmosphere of this fearsome place had made her take her own life.

  After taking a step nearer the brink, Laura drew back in horror. It would be so easy to go over – much easier than it had been at Rubislaw Quarry. Well, she had survived the parting from the man she loved, she would survive the death of her friend, she could survive anything that fate held in store – nothing could be worse than what had befallen her already. And this had taught her a lesson. It was best to live life to the full while you could, and she would do exactly that in future. She would dance with as many boys as she could, laugh with them, flirt with them, but never, never, would she let herself fall in love.

  Over the next few days, there seemed to be a damper over the whole camp, and Laura had to brace herself to accept the sympathy of the other WAAFs when she felt like shouting that she hoped they were ashamed of how they had treated Pat.

  A much more harrowing experience for her came when she had to travel to Glasgow on the same train as the coffin, and it took all her will power not to break down at Inverness station, where she watched it being transferred to the Glasgow train. She had always hoped that she and Pat would return to Glasgow together some time, but not like this.

  The ordeal of facing Mrs Haggarty was not as traumatic as Laura had feared. The woman held out her arms and they wept together for a few moments before she patted the girl’s cheek and steered her into the darkened house. The priest had known Pat all her life, and spoke of her naturally and without sorrow, as if a new life had opened up for her, something which had not occurred to Laura and which gave her great comfort.

  Mrs Haggarty, pale and drawn, clasped her hand as they stood in the hallway when she left. ‘Thank you for coming, Laura,’ she whispered, brokenly, ‘and thank you for being such a good friend to Pat.’ Hesitating, she said, softly, ‘I’m giving up the house. My sister’s asked me to live with her in Coatbridge. She’s a widow, too, so we’ll be company for each other and she won’t let me brood. The only thing is, you won’t have anywhere to come on leave.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’ Laura’s voice had a catch in it. ‘You’ve been very kind to me and I’m glad you won’t be lonely. I’ll never forget you ... or Pat.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mrs Haggarty kissed her cheek. ‘Goodbye, my dear, and may God be with you.’

  Making her way towards the station, Laura wondered why Pat’s mother hadn’t asked her to write, but perhaps she was afraid that it would bring back painful memories, which was quite understandable. It was probably better this way, the girl reflected, then an icy shiver ran through her as she realized that another door had been closed to her.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  1944

  Arms linked and laughing hilariously, the three WAAFs made their way through Porthills back to their billet, and an old fisherman shuffling in the opposite direction could not help but smile at their gaiety, although many of the older locals resented the influx of so many young people to their area.

  ‘Wonder what old Mother Adams is concocting tonight?’ The tallest of the trio led the way into a small close. Betty Fry was five feet seven and well built, but neither fat nor flabby. Her straight dark hair was cropped short like a man’s, and her grey eyes were
dancing.

  ‘I hope it’s not her fish pie.’ Louise Wilson, smallest and quietest, had an elfin face and green eyes, hence her friends’ nickname for her – ‘Lep’, short for leprechaun.

  Laura Fullerton gave a skip, her auburn curls swinging round her ears. ‘What’s the bets it’s fish again? What else could they give you in a fishing community?’ She was always ready for a laugh, and it was her imitation of one of their officers which had caused their previous hilarity.

  In spite of their disparagement of her, they thought the world of Mrs Adams, a little round ball of a woman, who did have a tendency to mother them. ‘Where are you bound for tonight?’ she asked when they went in, producing, to their relief, a meat roll made from what the butcher cheerfully called sausage meat, although it consisted mainly of bread.

  Betty laughed. ‘I think we’ll mosey along and see who we can pick up at the dance.’

  The old lady reacted as the girl had expected. ‘You WAAFs and your slang. In my days, we’d to wait till we were asked to any dances, and we’d to stay the whole night with the same lad.’

  Laura winked to her friends. ‘I’d gladly stay the whole night with any lad,’ she said, obviously meaning to shock, and they all laughed, including Mrs Adams.

  When they reached the hall, it was already packed, a sea of Air Force blue moving in smooth waves, flecked with the bright colours worn by the local girls who flirted with all the young airmen, for Porthills had been a quiet backwater until the RAF came to Bonachy Aerodrome. The three WAAFs were intrigued by being stamped on the back of their hands with a purple star as soon as they went through the door.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Betty asked.

  The organizer of the dance, a local man, said, ‘It’s so people can leave the hall and come back in without paying again. Some of the young lads here used to pretend they’d paid when they hadn’t.’

  ‘I felt like a cow being branded.’ Betty observed, as they went inside.

  ‘You’re the one that said it.’ Laura and Lep howled with unrestrained laughter.

  On the dance floor, they surveyed the seething, swaying mass, and Laura’s eye was caught by a scraggy, sandy-haired sergeant, who made a bee line towards her when the quickstep came to an end. She nodded when he raised his eyebrows, and while they were foxtrotting, he told her that his name was Bill Darbourne, and that he came from London.

  ‘Oh, a Cockney?’ she teased.

  ‘No, I’m not a Cockney,’ he replied, earnestly. ‘I wasn’t born within the sound of Bow Bells, it was Barnet, actually, in north London. What’s your name and where do you belong?’

  ‘Laura Fullerton, and I belong ... anywhere I happen to be.’ Smiling at his puzzled expression, and aping his accent, she added, ‘It’s Aberdeen, actually.’

  ‘You’re not so very far from home, then.’ Bill guided her through a complicated pattern of small scissors steps to fit in with the slow rhythm. ‘It’s a helluva journey from London to Banffshire. You should thank your lucky stars you don’t have to contend with that when you go on leave.’

  Having been so affected by Pat’s tragic death, Laura had asked to be posted away from Wick, and now that Mrs Haggarty had given up her boarding house, she had nowhere to go, but who cared? She couldn’t let herself worry about things like that when she was enjoying herself. Dancing was almost an obsession with her these days and she gladly went up with Bill Darbourne to the next dance, a tango. Glancing round, she saw Betty gliding past in the arms of a small, owlish-looking aircraftman with glasses, and smiled at the odd picture they made – the long and short of it. Then Louise, all four feet eleven of her, was swept past by a strapping six-footer, and Laura burst out laughing – the short and long of it this time.

  Bill frowned. ‘What’s the joke?’

  Laura pointed out the other two couples and told him what had passed through her mind, and he laughed, too. ‘I’d say we were pretty well matched, though, wouldn’t you?’

  He was looking at her admiringly, so Laura made another joke to avoid any sentimentality developing. The tango finishing, the MC announced a Paul Jones, so she ran into the middle of the floor and contrived to miss Bill each time the music changed. She flirted mildly for the rest of the evening, but Bill claimed her for another dance near the end. ‘I think you’ve been avoiding me, Laura,’ he scolded.

  It had taken some very careful manoeuvring on her part to avoid him every time he’d come towards her, but she grinned. ‘I can’t help being popular.’ She didn’t want to offend him, but she had to keep things on a manageable level. As soon as the Lambeth Walk was over, she dashed away from him. ‘Time to go, before the last waltz,’ she told Louise and Betty. Bill was looking for her and she didn’t want to give him the chance of asking to take her back to her billet, so she hustled the other two through the door.

  ‘What’s the rush?’ Betty sounded peevish when they were outside. ‘I was hoping to get a decent partner for the last dance. That shrimp of an AC2 was determined to walk me back, but I felt like a beanpole beside him.’

  ‘I’m quite happy to leave,’ remarked Lep. ‘I don’t feel easy trying to flirt like you two.’

  Betty sighed. ‘Two against one – outvoted, poor me.’

  Giggling, Laura began to waltz along the road, singing the song that had been playing when they left. ‘Who’s taking you home tonight, after the dance is through ... oo ... oo? Who’s going to hold you tight, and ...’

  ‘Why didn’t you want to dance with that sergeant?’ Betty interrupted. ‘I could see he was keen on you.’

  ‘Who, Bill?’ Laura laughed airily. ‘He was OK, but little old Laura doesn’t want any commitments, thank you. It’s more fun not being tied to any one boy.’

  ‘I guess it is more fun that way,’ Betty agreed, ‘and we can’t break up the Three Musketeers, can we?’

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want a boyfriend,’ Louise remarked, ‘but nobody looks at me when you two are around.’

  ‘Oh, you poor little Lep.’ Laura smiled to show she was teasing. ‘But I bet you’ll be the first one of us to get serious about a boy. Come on, girls. Race you to the house, and last one there’s a hairy witch.’

  Louise, with her short legs, was last inside, but when Laura went to the bathroom, she said, ‘You know, Betty, I think she must have had a disappointment over a boy at some time. She never wants to be serious with any of the fellows she dances with, and some of them have been really nice.’

  Betty smiled. ‘You’re very profound tonight, Lep, but I know what you mean. The flirting and joking do seem a bit forced at times, and it makes me wonder, too. It must have been pretty bad, because she never talks about it.’

  Their tête-à-tête was stopped abruptly when Laura came into the room again.

  Just over three months later, Louise astonished her friends one evening by saying, shyly, ‘I’m going out with one of the fitters tonight. He asked me at lunchtime in the Mess, and I thought, why not?’

  ‘Why not, indeed, my little leprechaun?’ Laura cried. ‘I can’t wait to see you married and having babies.’

  ‘We’re only going to see the film,’ Louise protested, her face colouring.

  ‘But it’s what could happen afterwards that you’ve got to watch.’ Betty poked her in the ribs. ‘Are you strong enough to fight off his immoral advances?’

  ‘Oh, you two!’ Louise rubbed some Pond’s Vanishing Cream into her face and patted on some powder, then took a tube of Max Factor lipstick and a bottle of Californian Poppy out of her bag.

  ‘Oho, we’re really out to make a kill.’ Laura winked at Betty as Lep dabbed the perfume behind her ears.

  ‘Be careful, Lep,’ Betty warned, when her friend went out. ‘That scent might go to his head.’ She lay back on her bed, her arm under her head. ‘Laura, don’t you ever fancy having a steady boyfriend? I know I do, sometimes.’

  Laura hesitated. ‘No, not really. I’m having a whale of a time as it is.’

  Giving up, Betty war
bled, ‘Whale meat again, don’t know where, don’t know when, but we’ll have whale meat again some sunny day,’ and they dissolved into giggles.

  When they simmered down, Laura said, ‘I don’t fancy the film, it’s one of those dreary gangster things, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass Lep by going anyway, but I don’t feel like staying in. How about going for a walk?’

  Calling in at the local hotel on their way back, they struck up a conversation with two young civilians. ‘We’re due to register next week,’ one of them said.

  ‘I’m going to say I’m a conchie,’ said the other. ‘I don’t want to have to salute all the time like the Brylcreem boys. Their hands go up and down like yo-yos when they meet an officer, even when they’re off duty. And the air crews – boy, they don’t half fancy themselves.’

  ‘They’ve something to be proud of,’ Laura snapped, quite unexpectedly. ‘They’re fighting to keep the likes of you free, and they’re risking their lives every time they go up. Anyway, they’ll put you in prison if you say you’re a conscientious objector, and it’ll serve you bloody well right. Come on, Betty, we shouldn’t waste our time speaking to this idiot.’ She jumped to her feet and marched out.

  Hurrying to catch up with her, Betty puffed, ‘That wasn’t like you, Laura – what got into you? Where’s your sense of humour? He was only a kid.’ She had been rather shocked by her friend’s outburst.

  ‘He made me so blasted mad criticizing the air crews like that.’ Laura was cooling down now, and laughed suddenly. ‘Did you see his face, though? If his mouth had fallen open any more, his chin would have hit his chest.’

  Betty smiled momentarily, then said, ‘Are you jealous of Lep having a boyfriend? Is that why you’re so touchy?’

  ‘I’m not jealous, honestly, but I sometimes wish I could let myself be serious about somebody.’

  ‘Why can’t you? It’s not a crime. It’s only natural for a girl to fall in love and get married.’

  ‘I won’t let it happen to me! I just won’t!’

  Her vehemence astonished Betty. ‘I don’t know if someone you loved was killed, or what it was that’s making you like this, but whatever it was, surely you can tell me about it? That’s what friends are for, you know.’