Sisters At Arms

Margaret’s shout alerted Anthea to face her seconds before the contents of Margaret’s bucket splashed over Anthea’s face and overalls. "Right you’re going to pay for that! You better start running missy." Anthea laughed as her best friend started running started running, looking over her shoulder as she went, then she began to run after her, bucket and sponge at the ready. Margaret bobbed and weaved between the vehicles parked in the square ensuring that capturing her was a mammoth task. Finally, Anthea had a clear shot, and the soaking wet sponge went flying through the air, colliding with the back of Margaret’s neck with a satisfying slap and a yelp of pain. Another chuckle escaped Anthea as she watched her friend turn around to face her. “b****y hell Thea, did you have to? That really stung, now I’ve got cold water dripping into my knickers.” Almost as though she could read Anthea’s mind Margaret began walking backwards, till she felt something behind her back preventing her going any further. She glanced backwards; she was backed up against a Bedford. She swore under her breath as Anthea approached with the full bucket of cold soapy water a manic grin on her face, Margaret had nowhere to run, and Anthea relished the thought. "Bad move old girl!" "Come on Thea. We are supposed to be working, cleaning the vehicles, not each other." "Too bad! You shouldn't have started it, should you?" The bucket was upturned over Margaret's head and she squealed as it dripped down her neck and onto her back. "Corporal Bowes- Willoughby! You should have listened to your companion. You are supposed to be doing a job, not playing around!" Anthea hesitantly turned around to see Lieutenant Locke stood behind them, his arms folded in front of his chest and a frown on his face. She raised her head, her soaking red locks dripping onto her shoulder and caught their Lieutenant’s eye, despite his stern countenance expressing his disproval, his eyes were twinkling showing both the girls just how hard he was trying to remain professional and not laugh at the two of them soaking wet, water dripping from their hair and expressions like children who had just been caught with their hands in a biscuit barrel as they stood to attention in front of him. “I'm sorry Sir." "I came out here for a reason. You two have been requested by a Captain Mason inside now." "Who is Captain Mason Sir?" "I have no idea girls. An American, definitely with an important job of some kind. He wanted to talk to you both right away but given the state that the two of you are in, then I think it would be best if the two of you to go dry yourself off and change and report to my office in twenty minutes. Dismissed!" Margaret and Anthea quickly ran off to their room. The thoughts were whirling around in Anthea’s head, what the hell did a Yank Captain want with Margaret and herself? Surely, they weren't in serious trouble, they may be prone to a bit of mischief on occasion but nothing serious and certainly nothing that would warrant a Captain wanting to speak to them, maybe it wasn’t anything bad, maybe it was a transfer to another battalion as despite their jocular behaviour from time to time it was also true that they worked the hardest and were the best ATS mechanics on the base, better than a number of the male mechanics as well. She changed out of her sopping overalls, towelled herself down and pulled on her service dress uniform, brushing down the skirt and tunic whilst Margaret did the same. "Thea, old girl. What do you think this Yank chap wants with us?" "I haven't a clue dear. I don't think we have done anything wrong. I don’t think I have felt this confusion and anticipation since Grade five, do you remember?" Margaret laughed. "Remember, of course I b****y do. I was terrified by the mysterious way that Baker sent for us during Gym class but told us not to go until the end of class, my legs felt like utter jelly. I can't believe I allowed you to talk me into missing evening assembly, supper and study time to sneak out and go dancing." Anthea halted mid-way through pinning up her now mostly dry hair and glared at the blonde next to her. "Hey! Don't you dare blame me! You wanted to as much as I did, and I certainly did not see you complaining when you were dancing with Andrew Milton." Margaret blushed clearly remembering Andrew, her first serious boyfriend who attended St Alban’s brother school and had been good friends with both the girls. “Alright, I wanted to. Yes, dear Andy, he was rather dishy, wasn’t he?” She fell silent then continued. “We should get going now; we have been gone long enough and I’m anxious to know what this is about. as far as I remember we haven’t been sneaking off to dance with chaps.” Anthea put her final hair pin into place ensuring that her thick hair stayed where it was supposed to, and she looked moderately smart and respectable. Margaret was right, they hadn’t been sneaking off to dance with men, any dancing they had done was allowed after all, sneaking off base going AWOL was considerably more serious that sneaking away from the matron when they ought to have been in bed. “Wasn’t Andrew’s father an M.P?” Margaret looked a bit peeved, and Anthea instantly regretted opening her mouth, why hadn’t she noticed that Margaret didn’t want to talk about Andrew and his family. “Yes, he is a Lord, Henry Milton, Andy took me to his family’s seat a couple of times. Brantonville Manor, b****y marvellous place, stunning surroundings. The fun we had, the picnics by the lake, the dances, what fantastic times those were. Somehow, I don’t think that England will ever be the same as it was back then, not even after this war is over.” “Whatever happened to Andy anyway? You haven’t spoken about him recently and I haven’t seen him in quite some time?” Anthea bit her lip, she hadn’t even meant to ask that it was almost like her mouth had a mind of its own. “Ignore me Peg, I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry.” “It’s alright, you weren’t to know. Anyway, I suppose it is about time I told you, I’ve kept it to myself for far too long. Andy wrote to me a few times after our relationship ended, as you know we were still good friends, then one day the letters just stopped. He had been fighting in the desert for a few months while and our letters weren’t what you call frequent or at all regular but then a three months ago I received a letter from his Mother, Andy had been killed in action. She told me he had been missing in action for several months, but she hadn’t wanted to tell me until they knew for sure, one of his friends said they were fighting the Eyties, and he took a bullet in the back just outside Tobruk, at least it was quick, running one minute flat out the next. I didn’t know what to do when I got the news, we weren’t married, not even engaged, we had only courted a bit back in school and parted as friends, but it felt like a part of me had snapped off, vanished. I kept expecting him to turn up and tell me it was all a mistake and wrap my hair round his fingers like he used to. I should have told you as soon as I knew, he was your friend as well, it wasn’t fair keeping it all to myself, I guess I thought if nobody else knew then it wasn’t quite real.” A lone tear trickled from Margaret’s eye and rolled down her cheek splashing onto the collar of her shirt and Anthea rested her hand on her best friend’s arm tugging her into a hug. “I can’t believe that you kept this to yourself for all this time! Oh Peg, I’m so sorry!” Margaret took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and smiled sadly. “Nothing I can do old girl, fortunes of war as they say. Do I miss him? Do I wish that there was anything I could do to bring him back? Of course I do. Every day I wake up and hope that the letter was a dream and that I’ll receive a letter from him soon. Unfortunately life doesn’t work like that and there is no use me moping around acting miserable because I’ve lost a good friend, as long as this damn war continues more young men like him will die so let’s give Hitler what for eh, I know that’s what Andy would want. Well anyway enough of me acting like a watering pot, we really should go and see what this Yank chap wants.” “Yes, you’re right, I am rather curious about it all, let’s go old girl.” Margaret took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes then handed Anthea her cap. Both girls fully satisfied that they would pass muster put on their caps, hurried out of the door and down two flights of stairs coming to a smart stop at attention before Lieutenant Locke’s office. “I’ll knock, shall I?” Anthea nodded as Margaret stepped forward and rapped firmly on the oak door with her knuckles.