She stood for a moment outside the cottage and looked up at the plain, blacked-out windows. It looked so ordinary given that what went on inside was so extraordinary. Following the attacks on the aerodrome, it had been decided that operations tomorrow would be moving to safer and higher ground. She would miss working here, she realised, feeling a pang of lamenting the loss of the old place already.
Collecting her bicycle, she cycled along the road towards the stricken aerodrome, but, as she neared it, the roads became almost impassable; troops from the nearby Shorncliffe Camp had been drafted in to help clear the devastation. Elsie watched as she rode past soldiers standing ankle-deep in a slurry of murky water that poured like an unstoppable river from the aerodrome. They sifted and shifted the rubble, wood, broken glass and other unrecognisable detritus that had been blown over the fence in a series of massive explosions.
In the midst of all of the chaos, however, stood Annie’s tea van.
‘Morning, Annie,’ Elsie greeted as she dismounted. ‘Tea and a ham sandwich, please.’
‘Shocking morning, wasn’t it,’ Annie grumbled. ‘I thought I’d had it!’
‘I don’t think it’s over yet,’ Elsie warned. ‘Stay on the look-out.’
‘Oh, I will, don’t you worry,’ Annie said, leaning back and pointing to an aircraft identification poster. ‘Junkers 87s, Stukas and Bf109s—that’s what we had over here this morning.’
Elsie nodded in agreement. ‘That’s right.’
‘Sergeant Finch!’ a voice greeted.
Elsie briefly closed her eyes, recognising the voice. William Smith. She turned to see his impish grin, just as he smacked her hard on the bottom. ‘Are you going to get your favourite pilot a cup of tea, then?’
Elsie looked at him incredulously. He was most certainly not her favourite pilot; she had had little to do with him since his behaviour at the RAF dance in the village hall. Still, she hadn’t quite been able to tell him to clear off, as several of her WAAF comrades had successfully managed to do. ‘Another tea, please,’ she ordered.
‘Okay,’ Annie said, handing over Elsie’s tea and sandwich.
Elsie turned to face William and asked in a disdain-laden voice, ‘Are you not flying today?’ It annoyed her that, while the skies were alive with dog-fights, here was William, swaggering around as though there weren’t a war on.
‘Got a twenty-four-hour pass from the MO,’ he grinned.
‘What’s the matter with you, then, that a doctor has signed you off?’ she demanded.
William tapped the side of his nose and winked. ‘Don’t worry, though—it’s nothing life-threatening. Or contagious—if you know what I mean.’
Elsie paid for the extra tea and handed the cup to William.
‘Cheers,’ he said, walking away from the tea van beside Elsie. They sat together on the grass bank and he immediately leant in and whispered, ‘How do you fancy going somewhere quiet?’
Elsie looked at him in horror. ‘Somewhere like a mortuary, you mean?’
William snickered. ‘Whatever you fancy, Sergeant Finch. We’ve got a small mortuary in the aerodrome grounds—think we can squeeze in amongst the other guests.’
‘That’s not funny.’ He really was a vile man. She turned away, wishing that the tea had been cooler, so that she might have been able to finish it and get back to Cliff House. The more time that she spent with William Smith, the less she liked him.
He placed his hand on her leg, making her flinch. She picked it off, dropping it down onto his own leg. ‘No, thank you.’
He smirked and shuffled up closer to her side.
Elsie had had enough. ‘Right, time I was leaving,’ she said, standing up and placing the nearly full cup back on the counter. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Ah, come on,’ William said. ‘Let’s go and get a drink somewhere.’
‘You’ve got a drink,’ Elsie replied, picking up her bicycle.
Another smirk. ‘You know what I mean.’
Suddenly, the air raid siren began to howl all around them.
‘Great,’ Elsie murmured. Just what she needed.
William’s roguish grin fell to seriousness. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he shouted.
‘Where to?’ Elsie asked.
‘Shelter. Today’s not the day for taking chances—Jerry’s got it in for us.’
He was right, of course. From recent raids, it seemed that the Luftwaffe were attempting to destroy all south coast radar installations and forward aerodromes. This was not a safe place to be right now.
So, she reluctantly followed him through the aerodrome gates to the concrete shelter and propped her bicycle up beside the entrance. Inside was pitch black, cold and stank of dampness. Worse, it was empty. Worse still, she discovered, was that the only bench was situated right at the back of the shelter.
She sat beside him and, for several seconds, the only sound was the air raid siren. She hoped that someone would join them and soon. Then, as he shunted along the bench towards her and she could feel his warm tea breath on her cheek, she had an idea. She stood up and began to move towards the door.
‘Where are you going?’ he demanded, reaching out for her. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back.
‘I’m going to get poor Annie—she can’t just stay out there,’ Elsie said, trying to shake off his grip. But he was too strong and pulled her back.
‘She’ll be okay, besides
