Some Sunny Day Page 2

  That night, yet again lying awake in bed, thoughts whirling through her mind, she made a decision. I am simply not prepared to be pushed around like this, not under any circumstances. First thing tomorrow I’m going to set to work convincing them to change their minds, and I won’t stop hounding them until they let me go!

  Over the next few days, Madge repeatedly tried, and failed, to navigate the maze that was the India Office telephone system until the kindly hospital telephonist, Mrs Hutchinson, stepped in to help. Day after day, Madge spoke to officials but simply could not persuade the India Office to overturn their decision.

  Weeks passed into months and Madge became resigned to the fact that she would be staying at Stoke Mandeville after all. The rumours of a ‘big one’ sadly came true and Madge was kept madly busy with the volume of casualties arriving from the D-Day landings on 6 June. Many of those boys were in a terrible state and Madge found a renewed sense of purpose as she tended to their wounds and made them as comfortable as they could be.

  It was a warm summer’s day and Madge had been on her feet all morning when she checked her pigeonhole for word from her sisters, Doris and Doreen, who loved receiving and sending little notes. Instead of the slim letter she was expecting, there was a thick envelope with ‘On His Majesty’s Service’ emblazoned across it and ‘India Office’ printed on the bottom left-hand side. Madge’s hands trembled, sure this would be final confirmation of the India Office rejection. She ripped open the envelope and read.

  Madam,

  I am directed by the Secretary of State for India to inform you that your acceptance as a member of the VAD for employment in India has been approved with effect from 16 June 1944, under the conditions set out in the enclosed memorandum.

  Madge’s heart leapt. She’d done it! She was in! All her phone calls had paid off. She read on:

  You will be entitled to pay at the inclusive rate of £134 per annum from the date of your acceptance until the date of your arrival in India. Issue of allotment will commence on the first day of the month following that in which you embark, and you should therefore conduct your private financial arrangements in this knowledge.

  You should be prepared to embark for India at short notice. Detailed instructions will be forwarded as soon as possible and you should inform this department immediately of any change in your address.

  It cannot be too strongly stressed that the utmost secrecy must be observed since disclosure by a member of her destination, location of assembly place or time of departure not only endangers the life of the member concerned, but also the lives of comrades. It is of particular importance that no baggage or personal belongings should bear inscriptions or initials of the destination other than the place of assembly.

  I am, madam,

  Your obedient servant,

  H. G. Bull

  Madge read the letter three times. Then went straight to the little room that housed the switchboard and was put through to Whitehall 8140. She waited for what seemed like an age before Mr Bull himself came to the telephone and blandly explained that whilst indeed their original decision to refuse Madge’s application was correct, on review, it was pointed out that the sea journey to India would take several weeks, during which time Miss Graves would celebrate her birthday, meaning that she would be of age by the time she reached her destination.

  ‘The application has been approved and, yes, you really are going,’ Mr Bull told her.

  Madge was standing in somewhat of a daze with the letter in her hand as Vera walked past on her way to lunch.

  ‘Are you OK or have you just seen a ghost?’ she quipped, and tried to sneak a look at the document. All she could see, however, was a line that read: Miss Madge L. Graves, W5101845, VAD 125 IGH (C), SEAC. ‘What on earth is that all about?’ asked Vera. ‘It looks like a secret code.’

  Madge was bubbling with excitement. ‘You’ll never believe it,’ she said, as she handed the letter over and added, ‘I’m going to be joining you!’

  Vera’s whoop of joy was so loud that heads turned to see what the noise was all about, but she didn’t care.

  ‘I’ll get Phyl and we can all go into Aylesbury for a celebration lunch,’ she almost shouted.

  Madge laughed and said she loved the idea, ‘But not today because I must tell a very important person first.’

  As luck would have it, driver William was sitting outside the hospital in his battered old van and happily drove her into Aylesbury, and from there she caught the bus to High Wycombe.

  By pure coincidence, as Madge got off the bus her mum Lily was waiting at the bus stop to go shopping. Madge was bursting with excitement and pride as she told her mum the news.

  ‘Your father didn’t like India at all when he was posted there during the Great War,’ her mother said, the shock clear on her face. ‘Do you think it’s a wise idea? Oh, but listen to me, you’ll have a wonderful time and you’ll be doing something truly amazing. I’m incredibly proud of you, love.’

  Tears glistened as she wrapped her arms around Madge to give her a long and loving hug and then they walked back to the family home in Dashwood Avenue arm in arm so Lily could make her beloved eldest daughter a cup of tea.

  2

  Friday Meant Steak and Kidney Pudding

  Madge was only too aware that her service overseas would involve a number of personal sacrifices, and that the most painful of those would be being separated from her mum and her sisters Doris and Doreen, who were aged eighteen and thirteen respectively. Not to mention leaving behind the warmth and comfort of the family kitchen or, indeed, the mouth-watering family meals, so she made a point of spending as much time as possible with her family in the few days left before the start of her passage to India.

  One day, as Madge and her mother sat chatting in the back garden of the family home, Lily talked for the first time about the early years of her marriage to husband Charles. Lily was born in High Wycombe and Charles in Dover in 1897, the year in which Queen Victoria celebrated the Diamond Jubilee of her accession to the throne.

  ‘Did you know,’ she told Madge, ‘the Great War broke out in 1914, when your dad was just seventeen. He wanted to do the right thing for his country so he joined the Royal Field Artillery. Most of his next six years in the army were spent in India. We got married soon after he was demobbed, but, as you know, he seemed to suffer from some sort of flu from then on . . .’

  Madge went in to make a pot of tea and when she returned Mum said that after he came back from India Dad started work as a flour miller in Dover, ‘and we felt really blessed when you arrived. Then there was Doris and, five years later, Doreen. I was never happier than when your dad was playing the piano or the mandolin at your birthday parties,’ said Lily. ‘Do you remember how everyone wanted him to play at their parties? He could tinkle out most of the popular songs of the day, but he couldn’t read music. It was all played from memory!’

  Madge knew all of this already but she loved to hear it again. She smiled and said her early memories were of the mouth-watering aromas and tastes from the Graves’ cosy kitchen, which was always the centre of the household.

  ‘Everything went on in there and you were forever baking or cooking something, but however busy you were, you always had time to sort out a problem, or kiss a bruised knee better,’ she said with a fond smile.

  Of all the days of the week, Friday was by far the best because the Graves family always had steak and kidney pudding for lunch. By 6 a.m. on a Friday morning, Lily would have the sauce steaming away on the stove and six hours later the beef was so tender it would just melt in your mouth. The girls would come home from school at midday, as they did every day, and their father Charles would arrive not long after. Fridays meant that Charles would be in a good mood because steak and kidney pudding was his favourite, too, and every time he would have second helpings.

  ‘You know, I’m not sure if I’ll miss steak and kidney pudding the most or the smell of newly baked bread,’ Madge said, thinking of the
homely, comforting aroma that regularly wafted round their cosy kitchen.

  As the eldest, she was allowed to help her busy mum by slicing the bread once it had cooled and that meant she was first in the queue for a crust. But being the eldest also meant she had responsibilities. From the age of ten one of Madge’s jobs had been the weekly walk to the baker’s shop where old Mr Goodwin sold yeast, which, as Lily had explained to her, was the essential ingredient to make bread rise, and Mr Goodwin’s yeast was the best in Dover. One day, Lily was shocked to pull the bread from the stove and discover a flat loaf.

  ‘Maybe it’s a problem with the oven, Mum,’ Madge said, shuffling her feet.

  ‘Maybe . . . I’m sure it can’t be Mr Goodwin’s yeast,’ her mother said dubiously.

  But the next day they had the same problem and Lily was certain that Mr Goodwin hadn’t given them their full tuppence’s worth.

  ‘I wouldn’t put him for a scoundrel, Madge, but we have to do something.’ And with that she dragged a very reluctant Madge to the shop. The old boy protested indignantly that he wouldn’t dream of short-changing a customer, especially one he had known for so many years. Madge watched as her mother started to raise her voice. It was awful! She couldn’t bear it any longer.

  ‘Mr Goodwin isn’t to blame, Mum . . .’ Madge felt herself going bright red and the rest of her words came out in a tumble. ‘I had a little nibble of the yeast. I’m very sorry!’ Madge’s stomach sank as she watched her mother’s face go as red as her own when she began apologising profusely to Mr Goodwin.

  ‘Not to worry, Mrs Graves,’ Mr Goodwin said, as the pair tumbled out the door.

  Madge was given a stern ticking-off on her way home and she dreaded her next visit to the bakery. It took her a quarter of an hour longer than it usually would to walk there as she dragged her feet, and by the time she arrived she was almost in tears.

  ‘Ah, look, if it isn’t our little yeast snaffler,’ Mr Goodwin said as she walked in. Madge thought she might be sick she was so ashamed but was surprised to hear Mr Goodwin break out into kindly laughter. ‘How on earth can you bear to eat raw yeast?’

  Madge gave him a grateful smile as he handed over the Graves’ weekly yeast portion in a little parcel that this time was securely tied up.

  ‘Hold on,’ he said, and picked up a block of yeast, sliced off a slither and handed it to her as a treat to eat on the way home.

  Mum laughed at the memory of that little escapade and slowly drifted to sleep in the afternoon sun to leave Madge thinking about some of the other events of her childhood. She remembered a time when the arrival of a new headmistress caused a bit of a stir. There had been whispers all around the school and Mum had told her, not entirely approvingly, that this one was ‘a very different kettle of fish’. Madge adored Miss Radford at first sight. She wore a black suit, high heels and make-up. She taught history to Madge’s class and told them that her brother was Basil Radford, the actor who starred in many films, including Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes. Madge hadn’t seen that film – in fact, her mum hadn’t taken her to the cinema yet – but it all sounded very glamorous!

  Miss Radford talked to the pupils about the Great War and she told the class that in his training, her brother had to stick a bayonet into a sack of straw and that he kept on having mental images of blood pouring out. One of the girls surprised Madge by almost fainting at the very thought of blood spurting from a sack, but Miss Radford calmed her down and went on to explain that the war had been a difficult time, particularly for the men who had to go off and fight. Madge looked down at her desk as she thought about her dad and wondered what he had thought about the war. She knew that he’d been to India, though all he said was that it was jolly hot.

  ‘This week,’ Miss Radford said, ‘I’d like you all to take part in recording your own bit of history. Please ask your fathers and write half a page about their war experience, and please bring it back next week.’

  Madge looked up. She was determined to make her history project the best in the class. When school finished she rushed home and started planning her questions. Charles had barely been through the door a minute when Madge told him about the project.

  His face paled and Madge knew instantly that she had made a mistake. He marched straight upstairs and wouldn’t come down for dinner. Madge knew he was furious because she could hear him telling her mother through the walls that he was going directly to the school in the morning to register a complaint.

  ‘That was the war to end all wars and it should never even be mentioned!’ he said to her mother. ‘There will never ever be another war like it and I don’t want her worrying about that sort of thing.’

  It was the first and last time Madge raised the subject; she never wanted to see her father that worked up again.

  By the time Madge was a teenager her father was suffering from more and more of his flu bouts, with nausea and very high fevers. During these episodes, he would shake so much that his bed banged violently against the bedroom wall. It was frightening for the family, who had never seen anyone quite so ill, but the doctors said he was just unusually susceptible to the illness.

  At the end of November 1938, when Madge was fifteen years old, her father was struck by yet another bout of fever which worried the doctor so much he was admitted to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Dover. After a short stay there, Charles was transferred to the Royal Free Hospital in Hampstead, London, where he died just a few days later on 8 December.

  Lily was determined not to let her grief at the loss of her beloved husband affect her three daughters and bravely insisted that life should continue as normal. To avoid even more emotional upset within the household she decided it would be better if Madge, Doreen and Doris didn’t attend the funeral. The girls were distraught at the loss of their father, but carried on as normally as they could, albeit with a sadness in their hearts that hadn’t been there before. Madge, still a teenager but that bit older than her sisters, was far from convinced by the doctor’s diagnosis that flu was the cause of her father’s death.

  The fun-filled childhood that the three sisters had so enjoyed came to an abrupt end with the sudden loss of their father. Christmas Day 1938 should have been a time of merriment with a chorus of neighbours and friends crowded around Charles’s piano for hours on end. Instead there was just silence and sadness.

  3

  War is Declared

  The new year came and Madge vowed that she’d help Mum and her sisters recover from Dad’s death. As the months passed they all tried to put on a brave face, but couldn’t help but notice the gap at the head of the table where Dad used to sit.

  On 3 September 1939, Madge, as usual, took her sisters to Sunday school in the stark Wesleyan chapel near their home, and found herself staring out of the window as she daydreamed. She had left school that summer, aged sixteen, and had enrolled at a commercial college to learn skills that included shorthand and typing. Madge had always wanted to be a hairdresser but you had to pay a hundred pounds to serve an apprenticeship and that sort of money was out of the question. Dad hadn’t left them much and Mum was struggling to get by as it was.

  She suddenly realised the rest of the Sunday school pupils had begun whispering. The teacher was usually very strict about talking in class but she wasn’t at her desk in front of the board. Instead, she was huddled around the radio along with some of the other volunteers.

  ‘Turn it up, I can’t hear,’ someone said.

  Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain’s clipped voice echoed loud and clear around the hall.

  ‘I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room in 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’

  Mad
ge’s stomach dropped and she couldn’t help but think about the Great War and what Miss Radford had told them about her brother imagining blood pouring out of the straw sack and the way her dad had looked when she’d asked him about the history project. She didn’t normally pay much attention to the news but she had overheard her mother’s worried conversations with the neighbours about Hitler and everything awful that was happening in Germany.

  Madge saw their teacher’s face blanch and, as the announcement finished, she quietly told the group to go straight home. Madge gathered her things and walked out with her sisters.

  ‘What do you think will happen now?’ asked Doreen.

  Doris opened her mouth to speak but was cut short because they had barely walked out of the doors when an air-raid siren started shrieking. The sisters looked at one another, eyes wide in fear.

  ‘Leg it!’ Madge said, and the girls ran back home, encountering many panicked neighbours on their way, and hid under the dining room table.

  ‘Will there be bombs, Madge?’ asked Doreen.

  ‘Probably not, don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just a drill,’ Madge said, although she wasn’t sure at all.

  The sisters stayed under the table, huddling close together, for what felt like forever, even after the siren had stopped howling. All three of them jumped as they heard the front door lock turn and rushed to hug Lily as she walked through the door.

  ‘It was the awful noise that really frightened us,’ said Madge, as Doris and Doreen burst into tears of relief at the comforting sight of Mum standing in the hallway. ‘Thank goodness you’re home. We didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Oh, girls, you poor things,’ said Mum. Lily had been just one year older than Madge when the Great War started in July 1914, so she knew all too well the fear they were feeling. ‘Everything’s OK. It’s over now. Let’s all have a nice cup of tea and some biscuits.’

  A little while later Madge caught Mum on her own in the kitchen preparing dinner. ‘I told Doris and Doreen I thought it would be better if they didn’t go out to play,’ she told Lily. Mum nodded in agreement. ‘I’m scared, Mum. What do you think’s going to happen?’