Turn Left at the Daffodils. Elizabeth Elgin

badly, and I am sorry, but when next we meet I hope we will be able to talk to each other freely and frankly and put things to rights.

      I am posting this letter sneakily, so you need not worry that someone had read it, and I hope you might be able to find a way to do the same when you reply to it. After all, things concerning you and me should be read by you and I only.

      Write back very soon, and tell me you understand, darling. And tell me I am being an idiot, and that of course our honeymoon will be something I will never want to forget.

      With love.

      A disjointed, rambling letter with words tumbling out higgledy-piggledy; a letter she wished she need never have written, but one which, now it was in her pocket, she was glad that she had.

      ‘Wakey wakey, Tiptree!’ Sergeant James placed her respirator at her feet, then banged shut the door of the truck. ‘You were miles away!’

      ‘Sorry, Sergeant. Just thinking that once we get there I’ll be all right. Corporal Finnigan told me where to park. It’s just a bit awkward, with no road signs.’

      ‘Agreed, but necessary. Can’t have the enemy knowing where he is if he decides to parachute in!’

      ‘But I thought there wasn’t going to be an invasion, Sergeant. Not now that Hitler’s invaded Russia…’

      ‘The rate that man’s going at, he’ll be in Moscow by Christmas. Mind, it’ll be snowing there soon, so heaven only knows what’ll happen when everything is frozen over. But chop-chop, girl, and pick up the other two!’

      ‘Yes, Sergeant.’ Carrie could see Southgate at the bottom of the hill, and Evie and Nan waiting at the gate.

      ‘And what will you two be doing this afternoon,’ the sergeant asked when they had climbed into the back of the truck.

      ‘Me, Sergeant? I’ve got a date,’ Nan offered cheerily. ‘Well, I think I have. Course, he might be off bombin’ and that’ll be the end of it. Fingers crossed, eh?’

      ‘An airman, Morrissey? He wouldn’t by any chance own a very noisy car that awoke me at half-past ten the other night?’

      ‘Ar, sorry, Sergeant. That would be Boadicea. She’s a car he shares with some of the other lads at the aerodrome.’

      ‘Ha!’ Monica James was at a loss for words because, in her opinion, someone as young as Morrissey should be told the facts of life before she went on dates and allowed herself to be driven home in the dark in a car that wheezed and coughed – and backfired – fit to wake the dead!

      But where did your duty as a sergeant end and where did interference take over? And surely Morrissey would have had the usual lectures in barracks during her training? Personal Hygiene, didn’t it come under? Keeping your nose clean and not landing yourself in trouble, it amounted to.

      ‘We’ll be dancing,’ Nan supplied when the silence had become noticeable. ‘He can’t dance, so I’m learning him.’

      ‘Then mind your young man gets you back to the truck for ten sharp.’

      ‘Yes, Sergeant.’ There didn’t seem much else to say, especially since Chas mightn’t even be there.

      ‘What will you do this afternoon?’ Evie asked the sergeant.

      ‘Got an appointment at the hairdressers for a trim and a shampoo and set, Turner. How about you?’

      ‘Carrie – er – Tiptree and I will tag along together – maybe look out for some under-the-counter-make-up.’

      For the rest of the journey there was silence; Carrie concentrating on her driving, Sergeant James thinking how embarrassing it was having to mix with recruits so raw they hadn’t had their first leave, yet. Except Turner, that was.

      She settled down to think about leave and leave-rosters, whilst Nan brooded that it wasn’t half awful having to share your transport with a sergeant on your afternoon off.

      But Evie gentled her wedding ring and thought how marvellous it would be if she turned a corner and saw Bob striding towards her.

      ‘I can see the Cathedral,’ Carrie called. ‘Nearly there.’

      She found the barracks with no trouble at all, reversed neatly into a parking space, then locked the truck.

      ‘Ten o’clock!’ reminded Sergeant James, then strode off in the direction of the High Street and a hairdresser called Maisie.

      ‘Where are you meeting Chas?’ Evie asked.

      ‘Outside the Cathedral. I told him I’m not very good at findin’ places, so he said I couldn’t miss something so big and I was to meet him there. Fingers crossed, eh?’ she grinned. ‘See you’se both. Have fun…’

      ‘Fun!’ Carrie grunted. ‘All I can think of is this letter. Keep your eyes open for a pillarbox, Evie.’

      ‘You managed it, then? Difficult, was it?’

      ‘After four false starts, but I got it finished in the end. It’s a bit of a jumble, but he’ll get the message. And I was very reasonable; said I knew things would be fine when we can get together and put things to rights – or words to that effect.’

      ‘So you’ll be threshing things out on your next leave – not arranging a wedding?’

      ‘If Jeffrey accepts the way I feel about – you know – things, there’s nothing to stop us getting a special licence – takes about three days, I believe. Mind, it would be a quiet wedding and a short honeymoon, so if mother is planning a big do, then we’ll have to put it off, to give her time. You were married in white, weren’t you?’ There was a wedding photograph on Evie’s locker. ‘Don’t think I’ll be able to run to anything elaborate, especially since I’d have to give coupons for a dress I’d only wear once.’

      ‘You’ve got clothing coupons?’ Evie frowned. ‘Didn’t you give them in when you joined up?’

      ‘I gave in my food ration book, my identity card and my clothing coupons book. But I only left two coupons in it – cut out the rest and they’re hidden at home. And I still think being married in our uniforms would be just fine. And I’m lucky. I won’t have to have a utility nine-carat ring. Mother said I could have my grandmother’s wedding ring. It’s quite thick and a bit old-fashioned, but it’s the real thing – and hey up, Evie. You take it!’

      An officer was approaching them, head on, and would require to be saluted, because there were no convenient shop windows they could turn to look into, no way of getting out of it.

      Evie brought her hand up in the smartest salute; Carrie gave an eyes right then whispered, ‘Hell!’ I hate saluting!’

      ‘You’ll get used to it, old love. King’s Regulations and all that. Means nothing, really. You’re only saluting the rank and not the man. And this place is crawling with officers – let’s get out of here, sharpish.’

      They made for the street outside and a pillarbox and a café in that order, finding both within yards of each other.

      ‘Good! Just slip it in,’ Evie whispered, ‘as if you’ve got every right to. Try not to look guilty!’

      Carrie heard the plop as it fell, then relaxed visibly. It was on its way now; no going back. And Jeffrey would understand – of course he would!

      ‘Right! Tea and with a bit of luck, a cake, or something,’ Evie grinned. ‘You look as if you could do with a cuppa, Tiptree.’

      ‘I could. And thanks a lot,’ Carrie sighed as she opened the café door. ‘For helping me sort things out. I feel a whole lot better about everything, now.’