The Brooklands Girls Read online

  ‘Well done, major,’ Peter said with a huge grin. He turned to Pips. ‘And I can’t wait to see you back in your nurse’s uniform, miss.’

  ‘Come on, Milly. Let’s put them on.’

  When the two young women arrived back downstairs, there were two solemn-faced men in the shop. George turned to Pips as she came through the door. ‘These gentlemen are from the Strike Committee. You’ve to go with them to explain what you’re doing.’

  ‘Can’t I explain here? Besides, isn’t it rather obvious what we’re doing?’

  The two men glanced at each other. ‘Not to us, miss, nor to the locals. They fear that the troops are about to be sent in and you’ve set up a post to attend any injured soldiers.’

  ‘I know nothing about the army coming, but if they do and there are injured among them, then of course we will help them.’ She stepped closer to the two men, completely unafraid. ‘Just as we will help anyone – strikers, strike-breakers, police officers and any other officials. In fact, anyone who needs our aid.’ She gave them her beaming smile. ‘Even you. Now, may I offer you a cup of tea?’

  The two men glanced at each other. ‘What d’you reckon, Jim?’ the first one, who had seemed to take the lead, now turned to his colleague for his opinion.

  Jim scratched his head. ‘Don’t rightly know, Percy. I say we have that cuppa and then report back to the other members of the committee and see what they say.’

  Percy turned back to Pips. ‘They might still want to see you, miss, but we’ll do what we can.’ He nodded as he glanced around. ‘I believe you.’

  The two men sat down and chatted in a friendly manner. But just as they were about to leave, the door burst open and a man, his eyes wild, rushed in. ‘Come quick. My mate’s been hurt. Hit on the head with a brick.’

  At once Pips issued orders. ‘Peter – Hugh, please go with him. Take the stretcher. Bring him back as soon as you can. We’ll get ready here.’

  Twenty minutes later, the two brothers arrived back bearing the stretcher between them. On it lay one of the strikers, holding a dirty bandage to his head and groaning loudly. The two officials looked on, lingering, as if watching for proof of Pips’s declaration. Now, they were seeing her first-aid post in action for one of their own.

  Hugh and Peter lifted him onto the table and Pips bent over him.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I ain’t telling you that. I’m not daft.’

  Pips hid her smile. ‘All right. I’ll call you “Bill”. Now, let’s have a look at that gash on your head. Milly, bring me a bowl of warm water, please, and cotton wool. We must clean it first.’

  The wound was not deep, though it was bleeding profusely. After she’d cleaned and dressed it and wound a white bandage around his head, Pips said, ‘Do you live near here? Hugh here will take you home in the car.’

  ‘I ain’t letting you know where I live. Sorry, miss, but we all reckon this place is a set-up for you to spy on us and report back to the authorities.’

  ‘I can assure you it isn’t. Whatever our private feelings, this first-aid post is completely neutral. You have nothing to fear from us.’

  ‘Aye, well, I don’t know that, do I?’

  ‘No, you don’t, I agree, but you and your colleagues are welcome to come and see for yourselves. These two gentlemen here are from the Strike Committee. They’re going to report back. If their colleagues aren’t satisfied, then they’ll be back, I’m sure. Just so you know, we shall treat anyone who needs our help – whatever side they’re on. Now, if you’re sure you’ll be all right, off you go.’

  But as the man stood up, he wobbled and put out his hand to grasp her steadying arm.

  ‘I really don’t think you’re quite ready to go home alone, are you? What if I come with you? Surely no one is going to disrespect a nurse’s uniform.’

  The man seemed to be struggling to decide. ‘Were you in the war, miss?’

  ‘Yes. Near Ypres.’

  ‘Bill’ bit his lip and said huskily, ‘My brother was killed there. I couldn’t join up. I was too young then.’ He was thoughtful for a moment before nodding and then saying, ‘You’ll do, miss. I’ll tell all me mates I reckon we can trust you –’ he glanced around – ‘all of you. And yes, I’d be glad of a bit of company . . .’ Then he gave an apologetic grin. ‘At least to the end of me road.’

  They all laughed and Pips, ‘Bill’ and the two men from the Strike Committee left the post. When they had walked a short distance, George murmured, ‘I think I’ll follow at a discreet distance – just to make sure she’s all right.’

  They walked for about half a mile, completely unaware that they were being followed.

  ‘We’ll see him the rest of the way, miss,’ Jim said as he took the wounded man’s arm. ‘We’ve to think of you walking back alone before we’ve had time to get the word out that you’re not to be touched.’

  Pips nodded. ‘You seem to be walking more strongly now,’ she said to ‘Bill’, ‘but promise me you’ll rest when you get home and if you should develop a bad headache or feel dizzy or sick, you must come straight back to us.’

  ‘We’ll make sure he does, miss, and – thank you.’

  As Pips turned and began to walk back the way they had come, she saw George standing in a shop doorway.

  As she drew near, she smiled. ‘You followed me?’

  ‘Of course; I’m not going to let you go wandering through the streets on your own as things are. What sort of a fiancé would do that?’

  She laughed and looked up into his face. ‘Oh, engaged now, are we? I don’t remember agreeing to that.’

  He chuckled. ‘It’s not for want of asking.’

  They walked along in silence, but as they neared the post, Pips said slowly, ‘I don’t mind being engaged to you, George, if you’re sure.’

  ‘I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. But are you?’

  ‘It’s not marriage and it’ll give us time to see how Rebecca reacts to the news.’

  George gave a wry laugh. ‘I think I can tell you that already.’

  Thirty-Four

  For the next few days, the first-aid post was kept busy. As they had promised, they treated strikers, those who were injured whilst trying to keep the country going and members of the police force, who were valiantly trying to keep order. It was a hopeless – and thankless – task. The only time that the members of the post were really fearful was on the sixth night of the strike when a riot occurred in the street outside the post. Luckily, they were all there. There had been a feeling of unrest all day and, in the early evening, Bill visited the post. He was now fully recovered.

  ‘I’ve come to warn you,’ he told them soberly. ‘I shouldn’t, but you’ve been good to me an’ my mates. There’s going to be trouble tonight. You’d do best to leave.’

  Pips glanced around at her fellow helpers. They all gave a brief shake of the head. She turned back to Bill. ‘We appreciate your concern, and putting yourself in an awkward position by coming to tell us, but, no, if there’s to be trouble, we’ll be needed here more than ever. But our resolve is still the same. We help anyone who needs it. Is that understood?’

  Bill sighed and said in a low voice, ‘You were all there, weren’t you? At the front. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve all seen far worse than a bit of a skirmish on a London street.’

  Pips touched his arm. ‘We’re so sad to see fighting on our own soil and between our own people. This sort of thing really shouldn’t happen.’

  ‘No,’ he said bitterly as he turned to leave. ‘It shouldn’t.’

  As dusk fell, they watched groups of men forming in the street.

  Pips peered out of the window.

  ‘Don’t stand too near the glass, darling,’ George warned, ‘in case someone lobs a brick in our direction.’

  ‘I—’ Pips began, but then she gasped in horror. ‘There’s a car coming down the street. I can’t be sure in the half-light, but I think it’s Muriel and Pattie. O
h no . . . they’re being surrounded. They’re trying to drag them out. We must help them.’

  Pips pulled open the door, rushed into the street and ran towards the mob surrounding the car. Everyone from the post followed her at once.

  ‘Leave them alone. They’re bringing us more supplies,’ Pips shouted, but above the hubbub she could not be heard. She began to pull at the jackets of those nearest to her, but they just shrugged her off. Then she saw Muriel standing up in her open-topped car, gesticulating at the crowd and shouting words that Pips could not hear. Hands reached up to pull her down, but Muriel swiped them away, gesticulating angrily. Pattie, in the passenger seat, was clinging valiantly onto a large box, but in a concerted effort both women were pulled from the car and manhandled over the heads of the crowd. Then the crowd began to rock the car until, with one gigantic effort, they toppled it onto its side.

  Furious now, Pips pushed her way through the throng. ‘You idiots!’ she railed. ‘Don’t you realize we’re trying to help you? They’re bringing medical supplies to our first-aid position.’

  With a supreme effort, she pushed her way through to the car, just in time to see a man close to it brandishing what looked like a can of petrol.

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she shouted at him. ‘There are medical supplies in that car.’

  He paused and then glanced around at his mates for support. ‘They’re strike-breakers.’

  ‘No, they’re not. They’re part of our team at the first-aid post. But if this is the thanks we get, we’ll pack up, go home and put our feet up. Or . . .’ she moved towards him, menacingly, her green eyes spitting fire, ‘I’ll drive a lorry or a bus and then I’ll really be helping the other side.’

  Another man pushed his way to the front and Pips heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Bill, am I glad to see you. For Heaven’s sake tell them . . .’

  ‘His name ain’t Bill,’ the man with the can muttered.

  ‘I know that, but when he came for treatment he didn’t want to tell me his real name.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘So as far as I’m concerned, he’s Bill.’ She turned to the man. ‘Just tell ’em, Bill, will you?’

  ‘They’re all right, mate, honest. This lass was at the front near Ypres driving ambulances and nursing. And this feller,’ he pointed at George, ‘was a captain in the army, but he ended up a major.’

  ‘He’s not on our side, then,’ the man with the can was still threatening.

  ‘I said “was”, yer daft bugger. They’re doing what they’ve done before – helping anyone in trouble. They’re not taking sides. So get this car turned back onto its wheels and help carry the supplies to their post, if you’ve got any sense left in that daft head of yours.’

  There were a few moments of muttering rippling amongst the crowd but then one of their number said, ‘Come on, lads, let’s give ’em the benefit of the doubt. But if we find out you’re not what you say you are, if yer spying, then it’ll be the worse for you.’

  Pips put her hands on her hips and faced him. ‘Are you threatening me, feller, because if you are . . .’

  ‘No, miss, he ain’t. Come on, Joe. Put that bloody can out of harm’s way and help us up with this car. My, it’s a Napier. You could race this at Brooklands, miss.’

  ‘I do,’ said Muriel shortly. She had pushed her way back to the front of the crowd. ‘And quite successfully, thank you very much. So I hope there’s no lasting damage done.’

  The car was lifted and bounced back onto its wheels. There were a few dints on the right-hand side, which had hit the ground, but Bill said at once, ‘I’ve got a mate who’ll knock them out for you, miss, in a jiffy. No real harm done.’ He grinned at her. ‘I bet it’s had a few more knocks than that in its time.’

  ‘Are you insinuating, my man, that I’m a bad driver?’

  Bill’s grin broadened. ‘Would I, miss? But Brooklands is a dangerous place. Even more dangerous than trying to cross a picket line. Now, let’s help you unload and take this stuff to the first-aid post.’

  The incident passed off without serious injury, yet it had been a warning to Pips and her helpers that it could have turned ugly, if it had not been for the timely arrival of Bill, whose real name Pips still didn’t know.

  ‘Well,’ Muriel said as she, Pattie and Pips stood looking at the damage to her car. ‘Despite the rather unfriendly reception, I think we should still go ahead with our idea, don’t you, Pattie?’

  ‘Of course. We’ll be helping their families, not these idiots.’ She gestured towards the scratched paintwork and dinted driver’s door.

  ‘What are you two planning?’ Pips asked.

  ‘We’ve been talking to the local shopkeepers down this street,’ Muriel said. ‘They’re trying their best to support the local community by letting anyone who’s involved in the strike have food on credit, but there’s only so much they can afford to do. They still have to pay for their stock.’

  Pips frowned. She couldn’t guess where this was leading.

  ‘So, Pattie and I are going to set up a soup kitchen for families who have been the hardest hit. And there’re a few of them around here.’

  ‘There’s another empty shop a bit further down the street,’ Pattie said. ‘We’ve seen the owner and he’s given us permission to use it.’

  ‘Provided we make good any damage.’

  ‘I don’t think there’ll be a lot of that, if you’re feeding their kids.’

  ‘Neither do I. So, Pips, when we’re up and run-ning – hopefully by tomorrow – you can start telling folks – your new friend Bill, for one. He’ll soon spread the word.’

  ‘And the Strike Committee. I’ll let them know too.’

  The soup kitchen was a great success and each day, longer and longer queues, mainly women and children, formed outside the former shop premises. When they weren’t busy at the first-aid post, Pips and Milly went to help out too.

  ‘Now, no pushing. You’ll all get served,’ Pips admonished, but her heart went out to the kids with pinched, white faces and huge, hungry eyes.

  ‘But what if you run out of soup, miss?’

  ‘Then we’ll make some more.’ She smiled, ladling a generous helping into a bowl and handing it to the boy who had spoken. ‘Don’t forget your bread bun. Freshly baked this morning.’

  She watched the poorly dressed urchin leave the shop and squat down in front of a building across the road. He was so ravenous, he couldn’t wait to carry his meal home.

  As Pips watched him, she couldn’t help but send up a silent prayer of thanks. But for the grace of God, it could be Daisy or Luke or Harry . . .

  Gunshot wounds and shell-blast injuries had become cracked skulls and bloody noses. But there was little difference in Pips’s eyes; the casualties still needed her skills, though in the end, there weren’t as many injuries as had at first been expected.

  After nine days, when the effectiveness began to crumble, the TUC called off the general strike, though the miners vowed to carry on their struggle.

  ‘Well, that didn’t last as long as we thought it might,’ Pips said as they cleared away all the supplies and furniture and tidied the shop in preparation for leaving. ‘And there weren’t as many serious injuries as there might have been, but I feel so sorry for the miners. They’re carrying on the fight on their own now, and I suspect that they won’t win.’

  ‘It isn’t right, I agree with you. They feel they’ve been deserted.’ George shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘We can spend millions on fighting a catastrophic war that should never have happened in the first place, but we can’t pay the men who put their lives at risk on a daily basis to provide us with coal.’

  ‘You should stand for parliament, George.’

  He laughed wryly. ‘If anyone should, it ought to be you.’

  ‘Me?’ Pips was startled. ‘Oh I don’t think I’d last long in there, even if I got in in the first place.’ She grinned. ‘I’m far too outspoken and opinionated. I’d never be able to follow the party line.’

/>   ‘And which party would that be?’

  ‘That’s just the trouble. I never know which to support. I agree with some things the Tories say and with others that the Liberals say. And then there’s the Labour Party. I think they’re going to get a lot stronger as time goes on. At least they seem to be the party for the ordinary working man. Besides, although women have got the vote now, generally speaking, it’s still only for certain women at the moment, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’ll come – given time. But as regards the Labour Party, they’re overtaking the Liberal Party in popularity, so I’ve heard.’

  As she glanced about her to check that everything had been done, Pips murmured, ‘So, it’s back to Hazelwood House for me, then, though the need for that now seems to be dwindling. I think I’ll go home for a few days, George. I can’t tell you how much I’m missing Daisy. Would you like to come with me?’

  George hesitated, but then shook his head. ‘I need to see Rebecca.’ He caught and held her gaze. ‘Especially if you’re going to agree to marry me.’

  ‘I do love you, George . . .’ She hesitated and he added softly, ‘There’s a “but” though, isn’t there?’

  She bit her lip and nodded. ‘I don’t want to come between you and your daughter. You know that. You’re all she has.’

  ‘Hopefully not for always. She’ll get married and have children of her own.’

  ‘Will she, though? The papers are saying that there are two million surplus women now. Many of them are never going to find husbands.’

  To that, sadly, George had no answer.

  Thirty-Five

  ‘Engaged? Oh Daddy, I can’t believe you can be so blind. She’s nothing but a gold-digger. Can’t you see that?’