The Light Over London(36)

9


LOUISE


Louise was lying on her bed listening to Doreen read out from one of the cheap novels her sister had sent, when Margaret, one of her bunkmates, came racing into the dormitory.

“What is it?” Louise asked, bolting up.

Margaret braced herself against the door frame, her round cheeks bright pink and her breath puffing. “The examination results are in. We have five minutes to assemble.”

All at once, the five girls of C barracks who had been relaxing scrambled down from their bunks. Louise jammed on the stiff leather ATS-issued shoes that had torn her feet so badly in the first week until calluses had hardened on the backs of her heels. Sarah, a shy Welsh girl who had the bunk underneath her, hopped on one foot as she struggled to pull her stockings on. Louise put a hand out to steady her, and Sarah smiled softly up at her as she hooked a stocking onto her suspender belt.

“I’m so nervous. I can’t be a cook. That’s just the same as what I did at home in Aberystwyth,” said Sarah.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said Louise, also sending up a little prayer that she wasn’t assigned to a canteen, doomed to peel hundreds of pounds of potatoes or scrub pots day after day. Paul had warned her that noncommissioned men in the forces didn’t get a say in their assignments, and that she shouldn’t expect to either. Still, she hoped her job would be more glamorous than helping the army win battles through its stomach.

The girls hurried into the yard where they drilled every morning. Their excitement made the air crackle with energy, propelling them forward with equal parts eagerness and trepidation. From across the hard-packed dirt, she spotted a flash of blond hair and saw her cousin turn to speak to another girl.

“Excuse me.” Louise put her shoulder between the two women in front of her and pushed through the crowd.

“Kate,” she said, catching her cousin’s sleeve.

“Louise!” Kate cried, throwing her arms around her. “Darling, aren’t you just a bundle of nerves? I’m so worried, although I’m certain you’re bound to get something good like accounts. I’ve heard you can rise up the ranks fast there.”

“What assignment do you want?” Louise asked, linking arms with her cousin, knowing the likelihood they would be separated was great. Even though Kate was housed in H barracks, it was a comfort to know she was near. But now they could be sent anywhere the army was stationed, keeping in touch only by letter.

“I’ll be on the telephones, I should think,” said Kate. “My typing isn’t nearly good enough for me to be a clerk, and I don’t have any experience driving, although I think it would be heavenly to learn.”

Louise didn’t think driving a heavy truck down cratered roads or through the debris of a London air raid sounded heavenly at all, but she wasn’t going to argue. Besides, all life was dangerous in Britain now. Haybourne hadn’t seen bombing as heavy as that in the East London docks or the single night of devastation that had set Coventry ablaze last autumn, but air raids happened everywhere. German bombs killed civilians and service members alike without prejudice. Chance and fate were coconspirators in this war.

As they shuffled into the hall where they’d taken their examinations, the women began to fall in line by their barracks, just as they’d been taught. Louise hugged Kate’s arm to her. “Good luck, and stay safe.”

Kate dipped her head, their caps just touching. “You too. You can’t let anything happen to you, because you’re going to be the bridesmaid in my wedding.”

Louise pulled back. “To whom?”

Kate grinned. “Oh, some handsome officer or another, I suspect. I’ll write and let you know when I’ve decided which one.”

With a laugh, Louise kissed her cousin on the cheek and hurried to join C barracks.

Corporal Clovis, who, with her commanding voice, ran them through their drills every day, stood on a small stage at the front of the room, a clipboard in her hand. She slid a pair of spectacles on and peered up over them at the assembled women.

“As you all know, you took your examinations last week. The results have been considered, and you’ve been assigned your units accordingly. I will remind you that although you might have volunteered to join the ATS, these assignments themselves are not voluntary. You will not be able to argue or persuade me to change them. If you’re lucky, after some months, you may be able to apply for a transfer if you can show reason why your skills would be more valuable in another unit.”

Two women ahead of Louise, Sarah shifted from foot to foot.

“I’ll start with the A barracks,” said Corporal Clovis in her dry tone. “Calvi, accounts. Dardenne, cook.”

There was an audible groan, and Corporal Clovis stopped. “Do you have something to say, Volunteer Dardenne?”

The woman straightened. “No, ma’am.”

Corporal Clovis’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what I thought. Harrow, telephonist.”

There were no more outbursts as the corporal made her way through A and B barracks, but the sinking shoulders or broad smiles broadcast how each woman felt about her assignment.

“Now for C barracks,” droned Corporal Clovis.

Louise wiped the palms of her hands on her tunic.

“Arden, ammunition inspection,” Corporal Clovis called. “Egerton, postal services. Hughes . . .”