The kindness and support of both Vera and Phyl left Madge in somewhat of a quandary. She loved the fact that Mum and her sisters were just a short bus ride from the hospital, but she also felt that the way she had been treated was totally unfair.
That night, yet again lying awake in bed, thoughts whirling through her mind, she made a decision. I am simply not prepared to be pushed around like this, not under any circumstances. First thing tomorrow I’m going to set to work convincing them to change their minds, and I won’t stop hounding them until they let me go!
Over the next few days, Madge repeatedly tried, and failed, to navigate the maze that was the India Office telephone system until the kindly hospital telephonist, Mrs Hutchinson, stepped in to help. Day after day, Madge spoke to officials but simply could not persuade the India Office to overturn their decision.
Weeks passed into months and Madge became resigned to the fact that she would be staying at Stoke Mandeville after all. The rumours of a ‘big one’ sadly came true and Madge was kept madly busy with the volume of casualties arriving from the D-Day landings on 6 June. Many of those boys were in a terrible state and Madge found a renewed sense of purpose as she tended to their wounds and made them as comfortable as they could be.
It was a warm summer’s day and Madge had been on her feet all morning when she checked her pigeonhole for word from her sisters, Doris and Doreen, who loved receiving and sending little notes. Instead of the slim letter she was expecting, there was a thick envelope with ‘On His Majesty’s Service’ emblazoned across it and ‘India Office’ printed on the bottom left-hand side. Madge’s hands trembled, sure this would be final confirmation of the India Office rejection. She ripped open the envelope and read.
Madam,
I am directed by the Secretary of State for India to inform you that your acceptance as a member of the VAD for employment in India has been approved with effect from 16 June 1944, under the conditions set out in the enclosed memorandum.
Madge’s heart leapt. She’d done it! She was in! All her phone calls had paid off. She read on:
You will be entitled to pay at the inclusive rate of £134 per annum from the date of your acceptance until the date of your arrival in India. Issue of allotment will commence on the first day of the month following that in which you embark, and you should therefore conduct your private financial arrangements in this knowledge.
You should be prepared to embark for India at short notice. Detailed instructions will be forwarded as soon as possible and you should inform this department immediately of any change in your address.
It cannot be too strongly stressed that the utmost secrecy must be observed since disclosure by a member of her destination, location of assembly place or time of departure not only endangers the life of the member concerned, but also the lives of comrades. It is of particular importance that no baggage or personal belongings should bear inscriptions or initials of the destination other than the place of assembly.
I am, madam,
Your obedient servant,
H. G. Bull
Madge read the letter three times. Then went straight to the little room that housed the switchboard and was put through to Whitehall 8140. She waited for what seemed like an age before Mr Bull himself came to the telephone and blandly explained that whilst indeed their original decision to refuse Madge’s application was correct, on review, it was pointed out that the sea journey to India would take several weeks, during which time Miss Graves would celebrate her birthday, meaning that she would be of age by the time she reached her destination.
‘The application has been approved and, yes, you really are going,’ Mr Bull told her.
Madge was standing in somewhat of a daze with the letter in her hand as Vera walked past on her way to lunch.
‘Are you OK or have you just seen a ghost?’ she quipped, and tried to sneak a look at the document. All she could see, however, was a line that read: Miss Madge L. Graves, W5101845, VAD 125 IGH (C), SEAC. ‘What on earth is that all about?’ asked Vera. ‘It looks like a secret code.’
Madge was bubbling with excitement. ‘You’ll never believe it,’ she said, as she handed the letter over and added, ‘I’m going to be joining you!’
Vera’s whoop of joy was so loud that heads turned to see what the noise was all about, but she didn’t care.
‘I’ll get Phyl and we can all go into Aylesbury for a celebration lunch,’ she almost shouted.
Madge laughed and said she loved the idea, ‘But not today because I must tell a very important person first.’
As luck would have it, driver William was sitting outside the hospital in his battered old van and happily drove her into Aylesbury, and from there she caught the bus to High Wycombe.
By pure coincidence, as Madge got off the bus her mum Lily was waiting at the bus stop to go shopping. Madge was bursting with excitement and pride as she told her mum the news.
‘Your father didn’t like India at all when he was posted there during the Great War,’ her mother said, the shock clear on her face. ‘Do you think it’s a wise idea? Oh, but listen to me, you’ll have a wonderful time and you’ll be doing something truly amazing. I’m incredibly proud of you, love.’
Tears glistened as she wrapped her arms around Madge to give her a long and loving hug and then they walked back to the family home in Dashwood Avenue arm in arm so Lily could make her beloved eldest daughter a cup of tea.
2
Friday Meant Steak and
