Chapter Ten
Missing
Edie stared at the telegram. 11.53.
“What’s the time now?” she asked.
Gus glanced at his watch. “About 11.48, I’d say.”
“That’s only five minutes,” cried Edie. “I’ve got to go… Here. Take these.” She handed Gus the binoculars and turned to run. But Greta tugged at her sleeve.
“I still need a wee,” she said. “And—”
“—So does Mr Churchill,” chorused the boys as she waved the knitted elephant in the air.
“Fine!” snapped Edie. “You better come with me.” She grabbed Greta’s hand a little more roughly than she meant. She’d much rather have gone to the station alone.
“Why don’t Gus and I take the binoculars to HQ? Aunty Patsy said I’d be free once I’d delivered the telegram,” said Perky. “We’ll see if we can spot anything happening at Boar’s Head Farm.”
“Good idea. I’ll fill you in on what Edie and I overheard this morning,” agreed Gus. “And Edie… ”
“What?” She was already running.
“Keep an eye on Len while you’re at the station,” he hissed.
“I will,” she said, tugging Greta along behind her, but to be honest she wasn’t really thinking about the Snigsons now. Len could unload a whole handcart of smoked hams right in front of her and she wouldn’t stop him. Not if it meant she could get to see Fliss.
“Come on, Greta. Be quick!” she snapped, helping her to dry her hands in the washroom. She could already hear the train chugging towards the station. She steered Greta through to the waiting room, with its brass umbrella stand, leather seats and pretty bowls of flowers.
“Why don’t you and Mr Churchill stay in here and play fancy ladies? Don’t move,” she said, without waiting for an answer. She wanted Fliss all to herself for a moment. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She dashed on to the platform just as the 11.53 shuddered to a halt, billowing smoke.
A short, dumpy woman dressed all in blue stepped down from the carriage furthest away from the engine and waved to someone. Edie spun round and looked the other way. That certainly wasn’t Fliss.
She ran down the length of the train peering into the carriages. Nobody else seemed to be standing up or getting off. Then she spotted a tall, slim figure emerging from the carriage nearest the engine.
“Fliss?” She peered through the smoke. But as the figure stepped forward, it turned out to be Reverend Greaves, the vicar.
“Hello, Edie; see you on Sunday, I hope.”
“Yes.” She wheeled round and glanced along the carriages again. An elderly man was hobbling towards the level crossing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Len pushing a perambulator along the platform. He must be helping a mother down from the train. It was hardly anything to report to HQ.
“Cooee.” The plump lady was still waving. “Edie? Edith? Is that you?”
“Me?” It took Edie’s brain a moment to connect. The plump lady was waving at her. She was wearing a blue ATA uniform just like the one that Fliss had. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m Edie.” But where was Fliss?
The whistle blew and the 11.53 chugged out of the station. As the smoke cleared, Edie saw there was nobody else on the platform but the two of them now.
“Hello, dear.” The jolly-looking ATA lady held out her hand. “Belinda Barton-Withers. I fly with Fliss. Did you get the telegram?” she asked. Then she slapped herself on the forehead, almost sending her smart blue cap flying on to the railway track. “Of course you got the telegram or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yes,” said Edie, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Isn’t Fliss coming herself?” Then she had a sudden moment of panic, like when she’d first seen the telegram in Perky’s hand. Perhaps this woman, this Belinda Barton-Withers, was here to break the bad news gently. “She is all right, isn’t she?”
“Lawks, yes! Fit as a fiddle,” assured Belinda. Edie felt her whole body relax. Fliss was safe! But as quick as her fear subsided, it was followed by the crushing disappointment that she hadn’t come. She was so sure the telegram had meant Fliss would be here.
“Shall we take a pew?” Belinda tapped the sunny bench at the edge of the platform, inviting Edie to sit down. “I’m on my way for a few days leave with my family. When Fliss heard I’d be passing through, she asked if I’d have time to get off the train and send you her love and all that. I’ve only got ten minutes; I need to be back on the 12.04.”
“That’s so kind of you,” said Edie. She tried to keep her voice bright, but was sure it must sound hollow and flat.
If Belinda noticed her disappointment, she didn’t show it. “Fliss says she’s awfully sorry she hasn’t written yet,” she boomed. “The censors read all our letters anyway, so she can’t say anything really juicy. But if she gets the chance to fly an old crate over Yorkshire, she’s going to make a detour to Three Chimneys and do the best damn beat-up you’ve ever seen.”
“Beat-up?” Edie was finding it hard to work out half of what Belinda Barton-Withers was saying. It wasn’t just that her voice was so hearty and posh; she kept using phrases that Edie didn’t understand.
“Sorry, old thing.” Belinda clapped Edie on the back, almost sending her skidding off the bench. “Beat-up is ATA slang. It means to fly a plane really, really, low. So low, you can pretty much see the pilot’s lipstick.” She laughed. “All the girls do it if we get a chance to fly near home. It’s very frowned upon by the Top Brass, of course. If Fliss had written about that in a letter she certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to send it to you.”
Edie smiled. She could imagine Fliss loving
