Island Fortress
December 1942
Ginger came into the Mess to find Algy already seated at the breakfast table, perusing a letter. Another envelope lay beside his plate, unopened.
Ginger greeted him and sat down.
"There's a letter for you," murmured Algy, passing the lad the second envelope.
Ginger took it, surprised. He wasn't expecting any correspondence.
"It's from Jeanette," murmured Algy with a smile.
Startled, Ginger looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know?" he asked in a curious voice.
"She wrote her name and address on the back, in the usual French way," Algy informed him. "Don't worry, I haven't read it!"
Ginger coloured at the unworthy thought. "Sorry," he murmured as he turned over the envelope and saw that what Algy had said was true. He smiled involuntarily when he saw Jeanette's name. "I was just surprised to get a letter," he muttered to hide his embarrassment.
"You didn't know she was going to write to you?" asked Algy.
"I didn't think she knew my address," responded Ginger. "I meant to give it to her, but then I forgot." He looked at the envelope fondly. Jeanette had misspelled his surname, he noted, and the address was simply his squadron number and "Rallam" rather than Rawlham. It was a minor miracle it had got to him.
Ginger hesitated and then put the envelope in the left breast pocket of his tunic.
"Aren't you going to read it?" queried Algy as he folded his own letter and put it away.
Ginger blushed. "I'll read it later," he said, thinking he wanted to be alone to savour every second of this tenuous link with Jeanette. He missed her dreadfully. If she had taken the trouble to write to him, she must feel the same, he thought thankfully.
He sighed inaudibly, thinking it would be a long time before he could get leave to go to London to see her. He consoled himself with the thought that at least he had a letter and every time he read it she would seem near.
Algy watched him amused, guessing his thoughts. "I hope you've kept up your dancing practice," he murmured. "The entertainments committee is putting on a dance for Christmas in the NAAFI. You'll be able to invite Jeanette and show off your new skills."
Ginger looked at him in delight. "Really?" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Really," confirmed Algy with a grin. "I thought that would cheer you up."
Ginger looked sheepish. "When is it?" he wanted to know. "I'll let Jeanette know when I write back."
"Christmas Eve," replied Algy. "That'll be a nice Christmas present for you," he winked.
Ginger smiled shamefacedly, but further conversation on this topic was curtailed by the appearance of Bertie, Tug and several other members of the squadron.
"What-ho!" exclaimed Bertie, seating himself opposite Ginger. Tug took the place on Ginger's right and the others filled the vacant chairs at the end of the table.
"Hello, Bertie," acknowledged Algy, while Ginger muttered an almost unintelligible greeting. He had not forgotten Bertie's antagonism in Monaco and Algiers and his mind was still on Jeanette. He made short work of his breakfast, murmured his excuses and took himself off to find a quiet spot to read his letter.
The dispersal hut was deserted when he got there and it seemed an ideal place. He could read in peace and then put the letter safely in his locker before he flew. Much as he wanted to take it with him, he knew the rules about personal effects.
Swiftly he slit the envelope with his penknife and drew out the sheets of paper, covered with closely written lines of Jeanette's continental style writing. Everything about her was exotic and wonderful, Ginger mused, savouring the thought that she had held the paper in her hands not so long ago. She seemed very close at that moment.
The letter did not say very much; just that she and her mother had settled in well and their neighbours were very welcoming. Jeanette wrote that they now had ration books and identity cards and told him how helpful the Air Commodore had been in making it all happen. She apologised for not having much news, but Ginger acknowledged that if she had sent him a shopping list in her handwriting he would have been delighted to receive it. The fact that she had sent it was sufficient and he was profoundly grateful that the Post Office had managed to decode the address and deliver it safely. Indeed, Jeanette had mentioned that she hoped the letter had arrived because she was not sure how to address it. She ended by assuring him she was still wearing his brooch next to her heart and thinking of him all the time.
Greatly heartened, Ginger passed his fingers gently over her signature, tracing the letters. Taking care that no one was around to witness the gesture, he touched the paper lightly to his lips before he put the letter back in the envelope. When he changed into his flying kit, he tucked the missive into his cap which he left in his locker.
The day's patrols were uneventful and he retrieved the letter as soon as the squadron was stood down. Escaping the others' noisy banter as they went to the Mess to let off steam, he shut himself in his room to reply.
Writing was something he had avoided as much as he could in the past and he sat a long time in thought, wondering what to say. His letters to his father had been dutiful affairs, but this was different. In the end, he decided to write as if Jeanette were in the room and he was talking to her face to face.
Mindful of security and the censor, he could not say much about the day-to-day operations he was engaged in and the thought of somebody else reading anything intimate that he might write made him go hot and cold with embarrassment. He decided it was best to explain these restrictions at the beginning of his letter so that Jeanette did not think he had grown indifferent to her since his enforced absence back with his squadron.
Expressing the wish that he could see her soon, he let her know about the Christmas Eve dance, stressing it was open to those connected with the squadron as well as serving personnel. As an afterthought, he added 'wives and sweethearts, for instance' in brackets in case Jeanette had not understood that he meant she could come. Sucking the end of his pen in concentration, he struggled to find a way of informing her that he wanted desperately to see her again without actually putting it into words.
Eventually he admitted to missing her and hoping that she would be able to attend the celebrations because he was looking forward to being able to dance the Waltz with her. He read it through and thought there was very little content, so he added comments about how glad he was that the Post Office had managed to deliver her letter and how pleased he was to receive it. Although he felt it was stilted, he was afraid that anything else was likely to suffer the censor's blue pencil, so he signed his name and put it in the envelope, leaving it unsealed.
He was about to put Jeanette's letter in the top drawer of his dresser, under his handkerchiefs, when he thought better of it. While he wasn't flying he might as well keep it with him, he considered, so he put the envelope in his left breast pocket and buttoned it securely before he headed for Toddy's office to submit his reply to the censor.
When he got there, Fiona was in the outer office, typing. He greeted her casually and then noticed she was wearing an engagement ring.
"Congratulations," he said smiling, indicating her third finger with a nod of his head. "When did that happen?"
Fiona blushed. "Yesterday," she said shyly. "We're going to get married as soon as Robbie can get leave."
"I hope you'll be very happy," he told her sincerely, thinking how unexciting she was compared with Jeanette. "Is Toddy in?"
She nodded and he passed through to the inner office. The adjutant was sitting at his desk, reading some correspondence with a blue pencil in his hand.
"Here's another one for you to do," smiled Ginger as he held out the letter.
"I don't enjoy this, you know," grumbled Toddy as he took the envelope, glanced at the address and put it on the pile, "but we don't want the enemy to know what's going on. Careless Talk Costs Lives."
Ginger nodded. "I've done my best not to give away any secrets," he confided wryly, as he turned to leave, "but it doesn't leave much to talk about since I'm flying most of the day!"
Toddy looked at him sympathetically and winked. "I'm sure you found some nice things to say to fill up the pages and Jeanette will be delighted to hear from you, whatever you've said."
Ginger looked sheepish. He took his leave of the Adjutant and made his way across to the Mess. The sounds of revelry reached him as he opened the outer doors.
Biggles stood at the bar watching as Algy played the piano and the rest of the squadron stood round singing raucously. He signalled to his protégé to join him. Ginger went across and greeted his CO.
"I wondered where you'd got to," observed Biggles as Ginger ordered a half of bitter and signed the chit.
Ginger blushed faintly. "I had a bit of paperwork to catch up on," he admitted diffidently.
Biggles smiled and nodded understandingly. "I see," he murmured dryly. "Algy mentioned that you'd had a letter."
Ginger's blush deepened and he took a sip of his beer to hide his embarrassment. Absent-mindedly he wiped the froth from his upper lip. Unbidden, thoughts of Jeanette came into his head, but he pushed them to the back of his mind.
Bertie joined them and ordered another drink. "Coming to join us for a sing-song, old boy?" he asked Ginger.
Ginger glanced at Biggles briefly before he nodded.
"Good show!" approved Bertie, reaching for a pen to sign the bar chit. Ginger took his drink and went across to stand between Algy and Henry at the piano, leaving Bertie to follow and find a space on the other side of the carousers.
Although Ginger joined in the singing with gusto, his mind was elsewhere. It helped to pass the time, he thought, but he would rather have been with Jeanette. He wondered if the weather would turn nasty and cancel operations so that he might get a chance to go up to London. The weather had been very wet lately, but it had not stopped them flying.
The party broke up eventually and everyone headed for bed. Ginger accompanied Algy across to the Officers' Quarters. The night was cloudless and cold, the stars shining bright over the airfield. His breath hung in misty clouds as he conversed desultorily with his companion. Ginger went to his room and re-read Jeanette's letter before he retired. He was pleased to have this contact with her, no matter how tenuous. Sentimentally, he tucked the letter in his pyjama pocket, sighed and slid between the sheets, curling up to get warm. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, to dream pleasantly of holding Jeanette in his arms.
His alarm clock woke him with its shrill ringing. He disentangled himself from his pillow and threw back the blankets. The chill air struck his body and he hastened to wash and dress before briskly making his way to the Mess for breakfast. He joined Biggles and Algy who were already seated at the table and tucked in to bacon and eggs.
"It doesn't look as though there will be much happening today," opined Biggles as he lit a post-breakfast cigarette. "Unless the mist burns off pretty quickly, I can't see that we'll be sent up."
Algy nodded and glanced out of the window. The weather was dull with fine tendrils of mist curling round the station buildings and obscuring the airfield perimeter. The cloud base was low and visibility on the runway, he estimated, would be poor. "I don't expect Group will be very quick to stand us down, though," he observed. "They'll hang on until the last minute in case it improves."
Ginger agreed gloomily. He envisaged a day of hanging around, with much binding about the uncertainty, until the weather either cleared enough for them to fly or they were stood down. In any event, he told himself, he was unlikely to be able to see Jeanette. If it hadn't improved by noon, he estimated, they would be socked in for the day, but that did not mean that Group would release them from readiness.
The other members of the squadron filed in for breakfast in dribs and drabs. Biggles pointedly looked at his watch and stood up, commenting that he was going over to dispersal.
Algy and Ginger joined him, expecting that the rest of Treble Six would not be long following and in that they were not disappointed.
The pilots hung around at a loose end because of the poor weather conditions and grew increasingly restless as the day wore on. Eventually, the telephone rang with the release from Group.
"No time to do anything now, look you," grumbled Taffy. "It's nearly dark."
There was a general murmur of agreement from the others as they dumped their flying kit in their lockers and made a beeline for the Mess. Blackout was in force from shortly after 17.00 at that time of year and was not lifted until nearly 09.00 the following morning. It meant a long night in prospect.
Ginger followed them slowly. The late afternoon and evening stretched out in front of him empty and boring. He was in no rush to start drinking and singing round the piano was swiftly losing its appeal as a means of passing the time, but there was nothing else on the agenda, he told himself as he made his way across to the Mess, so he might as well make the best of it.
He pushed open the door and was about to let it swing shut when a figure appeared in the opening behind him. Instinctively, Ginger grabbed at the handle to stop the door slamming in the newcomer's face.
"Merci, Ginger," smiled the young pilot in Free French uniform.
Ginger's mouth opened wide. "Henri!" he exclaimed. "When did you get back?"
"I flew to London yesterday and stayed with maman last night. I 'ave something for you from my family." He rummaged in his pocket and held out a small package wrapped in brown paper.
Ginger took it in a daze and thanked him automatically. "Does that mean you've seen … Jeanette?" he queried, his voice softening as he pronounced her name.
Henri smiled and nodded. "She talked about you all the time. She sends you 'er love," he added with a wink. "That is a very pretty brooch she is wearing. With the wings."
Ginger blushed. "Have you been passed fit for duty?" he asked to cover his confusion.
"I 'ave still a few days of leave," responded Henri, "before I am obliged to pass the medical board. I think there will be no problem," he averred. "When I called to see my family they were anxious that I should see you," he smiled, "so I promised to them that I would call in at Treble Six on my way back to my squadron."
"I'm glad you did," Ginger told him, clutching the parcel. "It's good to see you. Come in and meet everybody," he invited the Monégasque. "Algy, Biggles and Bertie are here; they'll be delighted to see you." He led the way into the ante room where most of the squadron members were disposed around the piano. Biggles was sitting on the sofa talking to Bertie when Ginger walked in with his guest. He got up immediately and came across to shake Henri's hand and ask after his health. Bertie hesitated before following more slowly. Algy took one hand off the keyboard to wave a greeting.
During the introductions as Henri made the acquaintance of the rest of the squadron, Ginger thrust the small package he had been given into the hip pocket of his tunic. He was curious as to its contents, but he told himself he could wait until he was alone before he opened it.
The pilots, scenting a distraction, made a great fuss of their guest, so it was some time before Ginger had an opportunity to draw Henri to one side and ask him for more detailed news of Jeanette and whether she had received his reply to her letter. Bertie watched them broodingly as they talked, wondering about the subject of their conversation. He had not forgotten that Henri was Jeanette's brother.
Ginger's heart leapt when Henri assured him Jeanette was looking forward to attending the dance. "I 'ave booked a room for that night and the next in the pub of the village for maman and Jeanette," Henri told him. "So we can all be together on Christmas Day." He looked at Ginger sideways. "You would like to join us, n'est-ce pas?"
Ginger nodded vigorously. "I'd love to – provided I can get the time off."
"I rang my Commandant when I arrived in London and explained everything in my report," said Henri. Ginger wondered uneasily what exactly "everything" had encompassed.
"Naturally," continued Henri, "he understands that I want to be with my family, so he 'as invited them to spend Christmas with my squadron. I am sure that no one would object to 'aving our English guest with us, too," he informed Ginger with an artful smile. "I will see that your CO receives the invitation officially, so we use, 'ow you say, the proper channels?"
Ginger grinned at Henri's resourcefulness. "Biggles could hardly refuse an official request for my presence," he admitted.
Henri clapped him on the shoulder jovially. "Love, she conquers all," he exclaimed enthusiastically, much to Ginger's embarrassment.
"Have you done anything about requesting a transfer?" asked Ginger to change the subject.
Henri shrugged. "I will complete the paperwork when I will be back in my squadron," he declared. "There is no 'urry."
Ginger nodded. "Nothing much will happen until after Christmas and the New Year, anyway," he opined.
"C'est ça," agreed Henri philosophically.
"Let me get you another drink, old boy," offered Bertie, who had been watching the pair with growing disquiet. Henri's comment about love had made him wince inwardly. Although Ginger had not mentioned her since he got back from leave, it seemed he was still infatuated with Henri's sister, thought Bertie sadly.
Henri accepted and Bertie took him off to the bar. Algy drifted up to Ginger's elbow. "Everything alright?" he asked quietly.
"Yes, of course," murmured Ginger, wondering if Algy meant had Henri brought any bad news from London. "Everything's fine."
"Bertie been behaving himself?" asked Algy pointedly. "No snide remarks?"
Ginger shook his head. "I get the feeling he's still upset about Jeanette for some reason," he remarked presciently, "but he hasn't said anything nasty to me since we got back from Algiers."
"I'm pleased to hear that," averred Biggles as he joined the pair in time to overhear the exchange. "We can do without any internal tensions in the squadron. It's bad enough fighting the Hun without scrapping among ourselves. We all need to pull together in the same direction."
Ginger nodded, wondering why Bertie had taken such an antagonistic stance from the moment he, Ginger, had mentioned his appreciation of Jeanette's sterling qualities. He sighed and consigned the enigma to the back of his mind. Bertie was a strange character, he reflected, whose life and upbringing were about as far removed from his own as could be imagined.
When Ginger finally saw Henri off, it had started to rain again, the penetrating drizzle driven by a strong wind. The night was dark, the low cloud obscuring the moon and making moving around in the blackout difficult. At least that meant it was not as cold as the previous night; there would be no frost and probably no raids, thought Ginger gratefully.
He carried on to his quarters, feeling the small, square package in his pocket. "From my family" Henri had said, so it was from Madame as well as Jeanette. He shut the door and checked the blackout before turning on the light and removing the brown paper from his gift.
There was a hand-written note wrapped around a small box. Ginger opened the note and smiled when he recognised Jeanette's handwriting.
"Maman and I," he read, "wish you to have this medallion of St Christopher to keep you safe. We pray for you daily. You are always in my thoughts," had been added on the line immediately above her signature.
He opened the box and discovered a silver St Christopher nestling on cotton wool. His smile broadened as he tucked it in his left breast pocket, near his heart. If he had hung it round his neck, he reflected, it would have got tangled up with his dog tags, but he would make sure he always had the talisman with him when he was flying. It may be superstition, he told himself, but it was another tangible link with Jeanette and one that would not contravene any regulations to take with him, unlike her letter. They each now had a gift from the other which they wore in more or less the same place, he realised.
He sat down and wrote a thank you note to Jeanette, assuring her that the medallion would always be on his person. As an afterthought, he added, "please say thank you to your mother on my behalf." He hesitated, then decided that there was no harm in echoing the phrase she had used. "You, too, are always in my thoughts," he concluded, before he signed his name. He put the letter in an envelope and wrote Jeanette's name and address on the front. He glanced at his watch and decided it was too late to take it to the Admin Office. He would do that first thing in the morning.
Toddy smiled when Ginger handed him another letter. "I never thought you were the literary type," he teased.
"It's a thank you note," Ginger told him stiffly. "For a gift. Biggles always insisted on good manners."
"You don't have to be so touchy, laddie," Toddy soothed his ruffled feathers with a grin and a wink. "You're a very lucky chap; Jeanette is the sort of girl who would make anybody put pen to paper." He chuckled as Ginger made a hasty exit.
Biggles was just coming out of his office as Ginger passed the door. "You're in demand," he commented when he saw his protégé.
Ginger looked puzzled.
"Along with my daily orders I've just received a formal request for your presence in the Mess of the Free French squadron on Christmas Day," explained Biggles. "Henri was behind that, I take it?"
Ginger blushed. "He said he'd ask his Commandant to invite me," he murmured.
Biggles looked at the youngster quizzically, but said nothing.
"The Commandant has invited Henri's family as well," Ginger admitted eventually.
"Ah," breathed Biggles. "I see." For a few moments he said nothing, watching Ginger's blush deepen. Then his lips twitched. "For the sake of international relations, I had better accede to the request, then, hadn't I?" he added dryly. "I wouldn't like to spoil Jeanette's Christmas."
Ginger looked sheepish, but breathed a silent sigh of relief. He nodded gratefully, murmuring his thanks.
"Just make sure you uphold the honour of the squadron," Biggles enjoined him.
"I will," promised Ginger fervently, although quite in what respect his CO meant he was not entirely sure. Perhaps Biggles was referring to the spot of fatherly advice he had given, mused Ginger. If so, Biggles need have no fear. Ginger was only too well aware that he was not going to trifle with Jeanette's affections.