‘I assure you, madam,’ he said with a condescending smile, ‘that the Ministry of Food New Meals Order of 1942 includes even the Savoy and the Ritz.’
He explained that restaurants had initially been exempt from rationing but this caused upset as wealthier people were accused of supplementing their food allocation by eating out. To create a level playing field, new restrictions were introduced that meant the maximum cafes and restaurants could charge for a three-course meal was five shillings. Unless, of course, there was a cabaret show, in which case there might be an added cost!
‘Well,’ Madge said, ‘I can’t believe I haven’t been eating at The Curb every night!’
Having settled the bill, the pair treated themselves to another trip to the cinema, this time to see This Happy Breed at the Marble Arch Pavilion, with a cast that included John Mills. It was much more pleasant to watch as the evening passed without them being interrupted by air-raid sirens. As the 10 p.m. curfew rapidly approached, the girls hurried to get back to their billet but soon found that Marble Arch underground station was being used as an air-raid shelter. Whole families were bedding down for the night on mattresses they had brought from home. There were babes in arms, toddlers, families eating their dinner. Many found they had a better, safer night’s sleep in the Tube stations rather than racing back and forwards from home to the shelters when the sirens sounded.
As the girls tiptoed through, they suddenly caught sight of a large crowd.
‘What on earth is that all about?’ asked Vera.
‘I’ve got no idea.’
It wasn’t until they drew closer that they spotted a jolly lady of mature years in a bottle-green uniform dress and a black beret at the centre of the throng.
‘Oh look, it’s a WVS tea point,’ Madge told Vera. ‘No wonder people love these ladies,’ she added, thinking of the endless hours they worked to keep the mobile canteens operational.
They watched with admiration as one of the WVS women handed a steaming mug to a mother who looked at the end of her tether keeping two toddlers in line, then bent to sweep the naughtiest child off his feet and give him a cuddle so Mum had a few moments of peace to have a thoroughly deserved cup of tea.
After weaving their way past the sleeping bodies, mattresses, toys and gas masks that all but blocked the platform, the girls managed to get on a train to Baker Street. Back in their digs, Phyllis Yearron handed Madge a beautifully wrapped early twenty-first birthday present that turned out to be a very smart silver hairbrush with a mirrored back. She was genuinely surprised, having only met Phyllis a few days previously.
‘How generous of you!’ said Madge. ‘Can you believe I’d forgotten to pack a mirror! What would I do without you?’
The realisation that she was perhaps not as organised as she thought she’d been encouraged Madge to make one last check on her cabin luggage case and she decided to go through the contents against the list sent from the Military Department of the India Office again:
EQUIPMENT FOR THE JOURNEY
Cabin luggage must include:
1 pair of navy blue slacks
Sports kit, including rubber-soled shoes
1 jersey or pullover
Bathing dress
1 cardigan
Extra shoes, shirts and stockings
2 pairs blue socks
White felt hat
2 nursing members dresses
Sunglasses
2 aprons
Looking glass
2 caps
Petersham belt
2 thin white shirts and navy blue skirts
Travelling rug
NOTE: VAD members will travel in their coats, navy skirts and white shirts and will carry their overcoats. Civilian clothes are NOT to be taken.
The evening was still not over because the VADs at 108 Baker Street were given their boat and destination index numbers and told to write them very clearly on the labels that were provided. The index numbers were basically a simple security system so there was no way that spies, or even nosy parkers, could find out where they were going.
When the girls were assembled in the dining room an army sergeant appeared and began giving them a short, sharp talk.
‘Now, I want you to please listen, ladies. This is of the utmost importance. You must remember at all times that careless talk costs lives. Please take a moment to look at the posters that I have placed on the walls.’
Madge glanced at the posters. The slogan on one said ‘Walls have ears’. She saw Vera looking at another poster, suppressing a giggle as she read it. It showed a big floppy black fedora decorated with a pretty yellow bow and a slogan that warned ‘Keep it under your hat’. Madge smiled to herself. Very clever, she thought.
‘Thank you, ladies. Bon voyage and goodnight,’ said the sergeant as he turned on his heels and walked out of the dining room.
Vera was laughing as she turned to Madge and said there was only one thing wrong with his little pep talk. ‘He’s presuming we know when and where we are going. The truth is, I haven’t got the slightest clue. And neither has anybody else. So who would we talk carelessly to?’
Madge held her hands up in mock surrender and said it had been such a long day it was time for bed. She was asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow.
A breakfast of scrambled eggs got the next day underway and the rest of the morning was spent shopping with Vera before watching an afternoon of ballet at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. They were well aware this would be the last week to enjoy the delights of London before service overseas so off they went to The Curb again for early evening cocktails and dinner, where Madge placed her gas mask discreetly under the table – so much more preferable to leaving it on view as a stark reminder of the terrifying times in which they were living. And the
