A Matter of Time

by Graham Debenham

part 5

Eddie couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was back in wartime London with a girl who would be quite at home on the cover of a fashion magazine, and here she was showing an obvious interest in him. He decided he wanted to know everything about her. As they walked the platform, she stopped occasionally to speak to somebody or to hand out more sweets.

“You must come down here quite a bit,” he said after a while. “Everybody seems to know you.”

“Yes, quite a bit; when I’m not on battery duty. My regular posting is with the Artillery. Normally I’m manning an anti-aircraft gun emplacement in Fulham.”

Eddie looked amazed. “But Ron said that you were a Red Cross nurse. I imagined you working in a hospital somewhere, not shooting down enemy aircraft.”

She laughed. “Well, actually I worked in a hospital before the war, so when I joined the ATS they designated me as a nurse; but I do everything that the other girls do, as required. At the moment I’m Ack-Ack, but I’m also a qualified lorry driver and dispatch rider.”

“Did you work locally?” he asked. “Before the war, I mean.”

“Yes. I was a nurse at The Grove Hospital just down the road.”

“Well,” he said looking around. “Judging by the looks on some of their faces, you’re obviously doing some good.”

“I like to think so,” she said, smiling. “Of course, what with the battery and the stations, I don’t really have much of a social life.” She looked at Eddie out of the corner of her eye. Eddie spoke before he even realised he was doing it. “Well, maybe we could go out one night, if you weren’t too busy; the pictures or the pub or something?”

Her head was down as she picked her way through the bedding and belongings piled on the platform. “I’d love to,” she said without looking up.

Eddie sighed with relief. Thank goodness that’s over.

Then he realised what he had thought. You Wally; you’ve travelled back in time, you don’t know how you got here, and you don’t know if you’re ever going to get back. And here you are making a date with the first pretty girl you see.

He watched her as she knelt down and held the hand of an elderly lady who was on her own but seemed far from lonely. All she needed was a smile and a kind word, and Dolly certainly had a way with words.

With a final squeeze she let go of the old lady’s hand and stood up again. “I fancy a breath of fresh air. What about you?”

“Yeah, it is a bit stuffy down here.”

They started to walk toward the escalator when somebody called out to them. “Excuse me kids, got a minute?”

They looked back. The man walking toward them had his hat pushed back on his head, and was carrying a large camera. He wound his way through the groups huddled on the ground. “Can you spare a minute for a couple of photographs?” he asked as he approached them. “I work for the Mercury, and I’m supposed to get a few human-interest shots of life in the shelters. It won’t take more than a few seconds, and my editor would be very grateful.”

He looked first at Eddie then at Dolly. They looked at each other and shrugged.

“I suppose it’s for a good cause,” Eddie said.

“I’m game if you are,” Dolly agreed, with that smile of hers.

“That’s very good of you both,” the man said, lifting his hat politely in Dolly’s direction. “How about here, with the old lady? I saw you with her just now and, well, it’s just what the public wants. You know; the angel of mercy.”

Dolly nodded. “Come on, Eddie,” she said, taking his hand and leading him back to where the lady lay on her pile of bedding. They knelt down on either side of her, and Dolly took her hand again.

Eddie didn’t know what to do, so he just looked at Dolly.

Even posing for a photograph, she had a certain air about her. She was so natural in front of a camera. She sat and listened patiently to the old lady, as she rambled on about this and that. She certainly seemed like an angel. As they sat there, the reporter took photograph after photograph of them. He seemed to be just as mesmerised as Eddie was.

Eventually, the old lady began to doze off. Dolly made her comfortable and stood up, straightening her uniform. Eddie stood up, his eyes still on Dolly

“That was really great,” the reporter said. “Thanks a lot, especially you, miss.” He rushed off up the platform to find some more subjects to immortalise.

“Do you still fancy a breath of fresh air?” Dolly asked.

Eddie nodded and they turned back toward the corridor. Walking around to the lower escalator lobby they made their way up the stairs.

* * *

They were silent for a while until Eddie spoke. “I suppose you live in a barracks somewhere?”

“Yes. When we’re on duty, we’re billeted at Chelsea Barracks with the other batteries.”

He probed a bit further. “What about when you’re off duty?”

“Then I get to go home.”

“Do you live nearby?”

“Yes Wimbledon; West Side Common.”

Eddie knew the area. Lots of big houses, very affluent. He looked at Dolly and tried to imagine her living in the stockbroker belt. “Do you live with your parents?”

She laughed. “Well, you don’t think I could afford to live there as an auxiliary, do you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Eddie agreed with an awkward grin. “It’s just that I can’t imagine somebody living in that part of Wimbledon and having a name like Dolly.”

She tilted her head and looked at him. “Why, Mr Hall. I do believe you’re a snob.”

“You’re joking. I was born in Wandsworth, and there are no upper-middle class areas there.”

She smiled at him again. “You’re right. I was joking.”

They had reached the top of the stairs and were walking through the ticket barrier towards the entrance. The full moon was shining through the folding gates and the huge lead light windows, flooding the foyer with diffused light. They walked across and looked out into the moonlit street.

It was strange. Back in his time, even this late at night, there was always some kind of activity. Now, there was nothing. No cars, no pedestrians, no late night revellers. Not even the late drinkers from the Mitre; just a deserted suburban street.

He looked across at Dolly. In the moonlight she looked prettier than ever. “How many stations do you visit when you’re on this particular duty?” he asked.

“I alternate with a couple of other girls,” she replied. “I usually visit the stations from South Wimbledon up to Balham.” She stopped and her almost permanent smile faded.

He looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

She paused for a while before answering. “It’s going to sound silly,” she said softly. “But I can’t bring myself to visit Balham anymore. Not since the bombing.”

Eddie remembered reading about it. The fourteenth of October 1940. Balham station was bombed during an air raid. The bomb exploded below ground, and water and sewage pipes were ruptured. The station was flooded and nearly seventy people were killed.

“Were you there?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. But one of my friends was.”

He stood there waiting for her to continue, not wanting to push her.

She went on eventually. “Helen was the first girl I met when I joined up. We joined the ATS together and took it in turns, with a couple of other girls, to visit the stations in our area.

“It was my turn to visit Balham that day, but I was rostered for duty at the battery. I asked her to cover my shift, but she said that she’d rather stand in for me at Balham. That’s how she happened to be there during the raid.”

“And you feel guilty about it?”

“It should have been me there that night. If I had been, Helen would still be alive.”

“Yes, but you’d be dead.”

Dolly looked away. “You don’t know what it’s been like. You don’t understand how guilty I feel.”

“No I don’t,” he said. “But I know that you have to be alive to feel guilty.”

She smiled. “Yes. I suppose I’ll have to come to terms with it eventually. I mean, it’s not as if I’m the only one who’s suffered a loss since the war started.”

He looked at her. It was strange. She belonged in this time, whereas he had only ever read about it. Six years in the life of a country. Six years of putting up with shortages of food and essential items. Six years of dealing with death on a daily basis.

He had assumed that Londoners would have hardened themselves to the circumstances that had been forced upon them. Looking at Dolly, seeing how distressed she obviously was, it was suddenly clear to him that you could never get used to it. All you could hope for was to accept it as a temporary measure.

He realised that this was the essence of the London spirit. The attitude of its people that however dismal, however depressing, however devastating life became, things were bound to get better. He was silent for a while.

“What is it?” she asked turning and facing him.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, turning back and looking out at the street.

They were silent again for a few minutes, until Dolly finally spoke. “It’s Francesca,” she said quietly, not wanting to break the mood.

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Francesca, Francesca Dollimore.”

“So why...?”

“Dolly is just a nickname I’ve had since school,” she explained. “When I started with the ATS, it just seemed that Francesca was a bit too middle-class for the work that I wanted to do. I needed a name that would help me to fit in. Dolly seemed to be just right. What do you think?”

He turned to face her. “What’s in a name?” he quoted. “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

She turned toward him, her smile fading. She looked up into his eyes and suddenly he knew that no matter what happened, he would remember this experience for as long as he lived. She moved closer and he put his arms around her waist.

Her face was tilted up and her eyes were half closed. He felt his heart pounding inside his ribcage. He reached up and touched her face. He could smell her perfume. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. All he knew was that it conjured up memories of bygone years.

She was still wearing her ATS cap, and he gently lifted it from her head. She also reached up, putting her arms around his neck. He moved his face closer to hers. She smiled, closed her eyes and tilted her mouth up to meet his.

Then it began.

A moaning ullulation; rising and falling. It seemed to be right on top of them. Eddie began to panic. What the hell is that?

Dolly’s head fell forward onto his chest with a thud. “I don’t believe it; of all the bad timing.”

He looked out through the gates and he could see that the searchlight beams he had seen earlier had been joined by two or three others. They were sweeping the sky looking for enemy aircraft. The siren they could hear was sitting on top of a tall pole that was situated in the middle of the intersection, right outside the gates.

Dolly was replacing her cap and straightening her tunic. Eddie looked at her and then

He looked back out through the gates at the sweeping searchlights. Well, that was a mood breaker if ever there was one.

The siren was joined by several others, more distant. Over the sound of the air raid siren, they could hear the sound of boots clumping up the stairs, the sound echoing around the foyer. Seconds later, Ron appeared, breathlessly at the top of the stairs. He ran across the foyer and through the ticket barrier.

“Open up the gates, Eddie,” he gasped. “We’ll probably get a rush now that there’s a raid on.” The two young men pulled the gates open wide, in preparation for the onslaught.

Just then, Les appeared from around the corner in Mitcham Road. “You wouldn’t credit it, would you?” he called. “They don’t come over for days on end, then just when you think they’ve lost interest, back they come. Must be the full moon.” He helped Ron and Eddie to open the other two gates. Then all four of them walked back inside and made their way to the rear of the foyer.

“Do you think we’ll get many more people in tonight?” Eddie asked.

“I doubt it,” Les replied. “I think everyone’s getting fed up with bringing all their belongings out night after night. I reckon they’ll stay at ’ome.”

“You’re probably right,” Dolly agreed.

“You know something?” Ron said reflectively. “We’ll probably look back on all this in a few years time and have a good laugh. What do you think, Eddie?”

“I don’t think we’ll laugh,” Eddie replied, still looking at Dolly. “But I think we’ll have a lot to smile about.”

Just then, there was a commotion outside, and the corner of a mattress appeared in the entrance. A few seconds later, the rest of the mattress appeared, followed closely by a lady and a small boy loaded down with bags. The hands of the lady’s husband could just be seen peeping over the two adjacent front corners.

“Hurry up, Stan,” the lady shouted. “They’ll be over in a minute.”

“I’m doin’ the best I can, Ethel,” Stan replied. “But this mattress is bloody heavy.”

“I wish you’d stop complainin’,” Ethel said testily. “Roger, give yer father a hand.”

She pushed Roger forward and he grudgingly lifted the rear end of the mattress a few inches off the ground. They trooped into the foyer of the station just as the first of the bombs started to fall some distance away.

Ron, Eddie and Les ran forward to lend a hand as the family struggled through the gate. Ron and Les grabbed the mattress and Eddie herded Stan, Ethel and Roger over to where Dolly was standing near the escalator. “You three wait here,” he said.

He ran back and grabbed the front edge of the mattress. With Ron carrying the back edge, he walked backwards toward the centre staircase. Checking behind to make sure he was lined up, he stepped onto the first tread. He stepped down carefully, balancing the mattress on its edge as he went.

“You’ll have to lift the front as we go,” Ron called, over the noise of muffled explosions. Eddie lifted the front edge up to waist height.

Proceed to part 6...