Elsie stood up. ‘What? What is it?’
‘Heinkels and Dorniers—heading our way. We need to get into the shelter.’
Elsie refused. ‘No—I’m staying here.’
Woody looked confused. ‘Why, what’s the problem?’
Elsie began to sob. ‘I can’t—I just can’t. Leave me here—you go.’
Woody pulled his arms around her. ‘I’m not going to leave you out here, don’t be silly.’
They stood huddled together, watching as the twenty Luftwaffe planes descended low towards the aerodrome.
‘Come on!’ Woody shouted. ‘Open up the anti-aircraft guns, for God’s sake!’
Seconds later, as if they had managed to hear Woody’s instructions over the din of the siren and the droning of twenty looming aircraft, there came the loud booms of the four Bofor guns that were the aerodrome’s only remaining defence. Black palls of smoke thumped into the sky, each of them falling short of the looming target.
Elsie clung tighter to Woody.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to shelter?’ he called. ‘It’s pretty dangerous out here.’
‘Certain,’ Elsie replied.
The planes circled just above the rooftops of the hangars and, one after another, opened their bomb doors and released their deadly cargo.
One deafening explosion after another tore through the aerodrome. Great clods of earth exploded into the sky. Office buildings were split open, their contents ejected upwards before being ravaged by fire. Horrified screams erupted from somewhere nearby. More angry retaliation came from the anti-aircraft guns.
The Luftwaffe’s job was done. As quickly as they had arrived, so they left.
As the planes retreated over the coast, Elsie released her grip on Woody.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
The all-clear sounded, followed immediately by an eerie silence. Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. Seconds passed. Then, on the horizon, came the first of the Hurricanes from 32 Squadron.
Woody stiffened. With a hand raised to shelter his eyes from the sun, he counted the aircraft preparing to land. ‘Nine,’ he breathed. ‘Two missing. I need to see who hasn’t returned. Do you want to come over with me?’
She understood why he needed to go in there, but there was no way on earth that she was going to be confronted by William Smith. ‘No, you go,’ she said.
‘Will you wait here for me?’ he asked. ‘We could go down into Folkestone to the Odeon and watch The Grapes of Wrath, if you fancy? Maybe a drink in Bobby’s afterwards?’
Elsie smiled. ‘Lovely.’ She watched him jog across the airfield to the dispersal hut. She saw some discussion with one of the pilots—Daniel, possibly—then Woody strode back over to her.
‘Barker and Smith,’ he revealed sombrely.
‘What about them?’ Elsie asked, her heart beginning to thump.
‘Barker’s kite was shot-up in mid-air and Smith hasn’t returned. Nobody seems to know what happened to him yet. He may have bailed out or have landed at another aerodrome. God, that could have been me.’
Elsie took his hand in hers and tried to stifle her tears. Her heart was heavy and she couldn’t make sense of her feelings about William’s failure to return. Right now, she hated him and never wanted to see him again…but dead? She wasn’t sure she wanted that.
‘Come on,’ Woody said, still holding her hand.
They left the Odeon Cinema on Sandgate Road arm in arm.
‘Did you like the film, really?’ Woody asked. ‘Was a film about The Great American Depression dismal enough for you?’
Elsie laughed. ‘Well, sometimes it helps to see people less fortunate, if you know what I mean.’
‘That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,’ Woody agreed. ‘I think we’ve earned ourselves a drink.’
They walked along the street to Bobby & Co.’s—a vast department store with a large restaurant. They took a glass-topped table overlooking the dance floor, which was packed every evening with servicemen and women dancing to the tunes of Don Sesta and His Gaucho Band.
‘A pint of beer, a large gin and lemon and two plates of eggs on toast with bacon, sausage and tomato, please,’ Woody ordered. When the waitress had taken their order and gone off to the kitchen, he lowered his voice and leant across the table, holding her left hand in his. ‘Elsie, can I ask—do you think you’ll ever marry again?’
Elsie’s gaze flitted between her wedding band and his earnest eyes. It was a question that had never even crossed her mind before now. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. I think I need to see this war out first and find out what happened to Laurie.’ She began to consider a future, after the war. ‘I mean—what happens next? Does he get a funeral? A death certificate? Can I just get married again?’
Woody squeezed her hand. ‘I can try and find out for you, if you like.’
The waitress arrived with their drinks.
‘Cheers,’ Woody said, raising his glass.
‘Cheers,’ Elsie responded, taking a sip from her gin and lemon. ‘What about you, Woody—I don’t even know your real name?’
Woody grinned. ‘I don’t have a real name.’
‘Of course you do,’ Elsie countered. ‘So, I’m guessing that you’re embarrassed about it, which must mean that it’s truly ghastly. I’m guessing that Woody is somehow connected to it?’
Woody nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m not telling you how.’
‘Then I shall I have to guess.’ Elsie drank more of her drink, the alcohol rippling through her empty stomach and making her light-headed. ‘Edward?’
Woody smiled. ‘That’s my middle name—where I take the Woody from.’
Elsie feigned shock. ‘Which means your first name must be really dreadful.’
‘It is.’
The waitress returned with their food.
‘Can I have another gin and lemon, please,’ Elsie ordered. ‘And another beer for my friend, Angus here.’
Woody tried not to laugh. ‘Angus?’
‘Adolf?’ Elsie speculated.
‘Definitely not that one,’ Woody laughed.
Elsie began to eat her food, as she stared at her handsome dinner partner.
‘What?’ he asked,
