Under the Apple Tree (6 page)

ground-floor lounge, bar and restaurant where they had

been brought were littered with blankets and sheets, piled

ready for washing, and there was a smell of blood and vomit

and disinfectant. First-Aid workers were busy cleaning up

and sorting fresh bandages and bedclothes ready for the next

raid. They looked exhausted, as if they’d been there ever

since the bombs began to fall, and Judy thought they probably had.

‘Do you know where the Council offices are going to be?’

she asked a woman who was near the door, scrubbing at a

patch of what looked like blood on the floor. ‘I was told to

report here for work.’

The woman, her sleeves rolled up and a scarf wound like

a turban round her head, looked up, and to her surprise

Judy recognised the face of one of the WVS volunteers who

had come to the Guildhall for meetings with the Lady

Mayoress. They looked at each other and the woman

smiled.

‘You didn’t expect to see me here, did you! Well, we all

have to do our bit. I think the offices are going to be

upstairs, though I did hear that the Mayor will have the

meeting room on the ground floor as well.’ She sat back on

her heels and pushed a few straggling hairs out of her eyes.

‘I expect you’ll get a guided tour, but just in case you don’t, the basement’s being used as a shelter - the stairs are over

there, behind that door - and there’s a lookout post on the

roof. The Fire Brigade are manning that at the moment, but

I did hear they’re going to put Observers up there, to see

when planes are coming. Anyway, you should find your

people on the next floor.’

Judy thanked her and went up the gracious stairs that

wound their way from the big foyer all the way to the top of

the building. The balustrade was of elegant wrought iron

and the well was lit by a single thick flex that hung from the

very top, bearing glittering chandeliers at each floor. I

suppose it was too difficult to take these away, she thought,

looking at the shimmering crystal drops. The touch of

luxury sent a little thrill through her body. It was almost like working in a palace.

There wasn’t much luxury in the new offices, however.

Once comfortable, spacious bedrooms with balconies on

which the guests could sit and look out over the sea only

yards away, across the road, the rooms were now stark and

empty. Beds, dressing-tables and wardrobes had all been

removed to make space for utilitarian desks and tables, and

plain wooden chairs that looked as if they’d come from the

cheapest furniture shop in the city. There were no cabinets,

shelves or drawers and people were standing looking a little

helplessly about them. Presumably office furniture would be

brought in as soon as it could be obtained, but for now they

had to make do with what there was.

‘How long d’you think we’ll be out here?’ Judy asked

when she found the former bedroom that had been assigned

to her department. ‘It’s taken me ages to get here this

morning.’

‘It’ll be for the duration, I’m afraid,’ Miss Marsh said.

‘It’s the same for us all, Judy.’

‘I know.‘Judy rubbed her cold hands together. There was

no fire in the grate and a bitter wind was scouring in from

the sea and finding its way through the windows. ‘Well,

what is there to do? I suppose none of the office papers were

saved?’

‘Nothing at all. The Lord Mayor only just managed to

get out of the Guildhall before the roof caught fire and fell

in, and the ARP were too busy trying to save the building.

There were people firewatching up on the roof too, but they

got down just in time, thank goodness.’ Miss Marsh sat

down at a desk that had been brought in from the hotel’s

reception area, and massaged her forehead with her fingertips.

‘We’ve just got to start from scratch. Organise

ourselves as best we can, and try to get things in order again

- but it’s not going to be easy. Think of all the forms we

used to use, all gone; we’ll have to get them printed all over

again, and I haven’t even heard from the printers yet. Most

of the phones are out of action, and for all we know they

could have been bombed too and all the plates destroyed …

It’s a nightmare, Judy.’

Judy looked at her helplessly. ‘But there are people

downstairs already, wanting help - what are we going to tell

them?’

‘Tell them we’ll do our best but it may take time. They

can’t expect miracles.’

They would though, Judy thought as she went to face the

huddle of men and women who were down in the reception

area. ‘We can’t get no information,’ one man complained.

‘We’ve had to trek all the way out to Southsea, and you

know what the streets is like - and then when we do get here

we can’t find nothing out. What are we supposed to do?

There’s no gas, no electricity, not even any water laid on

down our way, and nobody seems to know nothing. It’s a

flipping disaster.’

‘Well, so it is,’ Judy said. ‘You know how much damage

there’s been. It’s bound to take time to sort things out, I’m

afraid.’

‘And what’re we supposed to do in the meantime?’ the

man demanded again. He had a pugnacious face, with small

eyes and a flattened nose, and his ears looked as if they’d

been chewed. He glowered at Judy and she took a step back.

‘I got a wife an’ three nippers to look after. They ain’t had a decent meal for two days, only what that WVS stall or

whatever it’s called has been able to dish out. My missus

can’t even boil up a kettle to make a cup of tea.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ Judy said. ‘We’re doing all we can.’

There was a mutter of discontent from the crowd, and a

woman in a brown herringbone coat with a scarf wrapped

round her head said, ‘Well, what about the Public Assistance,

then? Can’t they do nothing?’

‘They’re not here,’ Judy said. ‘They’ve been sent

somewhere else - I’m not sure where.’ She escaped back

into the makeshift office. ‘They’re really upset,’ she told

Miss Marsh. ‘I feel sorry for them but it’s not our fault.’

‘They won’t understand that. They’re worried and

frightened and a lot of them have lost their homes. Well,

you know yourself how they must feel. Look, here are the

addresses of the Public Assistance, the Police Headquarters

and the Medical Offices. They’re spread all over the place,

I’m afraid. You’d better put a notice on the wall.’

Judy went back and tacked up the notice, listening to the

aggrieved remarks as she did so. She couldn’t blame the

people for feeling upset - as Miss Marsh had said, they were

all under strain - but she did think they ought to make some

allowances. After all, nobody had known the Guildhall was

going to be destroyed, and all these arrangements had had to

be made at a moment’s notice. ‘I’ve had to come a long way,

too,’ she pointed out as one young woman with a baby in

her arms started to complain about having to go miles away

for Public Assistance. ‘And I was bombed out on Friday

night. It’s the same for us as for everyone else.’

‘Yes, but you’re paid to come here,’ the woman snapped.

‘We’ve got to find our own shoe-leather.’ She hoisted the

baby higher on to her hip and glared at Judy before turning

to push her way out of the building. Judy looked after her

and sighed.

‘Never mind, my dear,’ said a voice in her ear. ‘I don’t

suppose she means to be nasty. She’s just tired and

frightened, like the rest of us. Come inside and have a cup of

tea. There’s something I want to ask you.’

Judy turned and saw to her surprise that it was the Lady

Mayoress herself who was speaking to her. She was a

familiar figure in the Council offices and had often smiled at

Judy as she went by, but had never spoken to her before.

Puzzled, Judy followed her back to the office, where the

tables were being taken over as desks by various members of

staff. The Mayoress walked across to a corner of the room

and motioned to Judy to sit down. She gave her a friendly

smile. ‘I’ve seen you in the offices quite a lot, haven’t I?

Your name’s Judith Taylor, and you’ve been working for

the Council for some time, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, madam. Ever since I was sixteen. I worked in a shop

when I first left school and did shorthand and typing at

night school, and then I saw a job advertised in the Council

office and I applied for it.’

‘Well done. You’re obviously a girl with some initiative.’

The Lady Mayoress paused. ‘Now, I know just how busy

we’re all going to be here, and I know how difficult it’s

going to be for Miss Marsh to get her office organised, but I

have a very special request to make. As you probably already

know, I’m the local President of the WVS - the Women’s

Voluntary Service. You may have seen our Head, Lady

Reading, when she visited us last July.’

‘Yes, madam, I remember her. She came to the Guildhall

with another lady.’

‘That’s right. That was Lady Northampton. Now, the

WVS does a lot more work than many people realise - I

expect you’ve seen the stalls giving out tea and buns and

soup that have been set up in all the bombed areas. We were

there when the men came back from Dunkirk, and we’ve

been helping out at Emergency Centres and First-Aid Posts.

But we do a lot of other things, too: we’ve cooked Christmas

dinners for folk who wouldn’t otherwise have had anything,

we’ve sorted out coal rations for old people, and we’ve even

enrolled people into the Blood Transfusion Service. In fact,

wherever people need help, you’re likely to find a WVS

volunteer offering it.’

She paused again and Judy gazed at her, wondering

where all this was leading. Feeling that she was expected to

make some response, she ventured, ‘My granny helps on

tea-stalls and things, but I don’t think she’s in the WVS.

They have a uniform, don’t they?’

‘Yes, we wear dark green with a dark red blouse or

jumper, and a green beret. But we’re not like the women’s

Services - we don’t call people up. We just ask for

volunteers. And we pay for our own uniforms,’ she added.

Judy began to guess what this was about. ‘And you’d like

me to be a volunteer? Well, I will, of course, but I can only

help out in the evenings. I couldn’t do anything in the

daytime because of my job.’

The Mayoress shook her head. ‘No, my dear, I’m not

asking that, although I hope that you will be able to help, in

whatever way you can. What I’m asking you to do is work

for me - for the WVS - full-time.’

‘Full-time?’ Judy stared at her. ‘I don’t understand. I

thought it was all volunteers?’

‘I’m sorry, I haven’t explained properly. Look, my dear,

it’s obvious that with Portsmouth now under severe attack we’re sure to get more bombing raids like the one on Friday,

we’re in the front line here - there are going to be a lot of

people needing help. Immediate, practical help with things

like clothes, rations, food, accommodation - the sort of

things the Council would do, certainly will do - but the

WVS can do so much more quickly, leaving the Local

Authority to get on with the job of permanent rehousing,

putting the city back to rights and so on. That means we’re

going to need more volunteers and more office staff to help

them. I’d like you, Miss Taylor, to join my staff.’

The? But …’ Judy glanced round the room, looking

more like a bustling office now with men and women sitting

at tables which were already covered in sheets of paper.

Typewriters were being carried in, packets of envelopes

being opened. Where had they all come from? she wondered,

and felt guilty at not helping. ‘But I’ve already got a

job, madam, and I ought to be doing it now. I don’t want to

be rude - I’d really like to be able to help you, and I promise I will, in the evenings and at weekends, but there’s going to

be so much to do here—’

The Mayoress held up her hand. ‘Just wait a minute,

Miss Taylor, while I finish explaining. I’ve already spoken

to Miss Marsh and she understands the position. She’s

agreed to let me have two of her girls to help for as long as I need them. I’m afraid I asked for her best girls,’ the Lady

Mayoress smiled, ‘and she said that in that case one must be

you. But of course, this will only be with your agreement nobody’s going to force you. That’s not the WVS way at

all!’

Judy gazed at her, unable to think of anything to say. She

glanced across the room to where Miss Marsh was busy at

her own desk, deep in discussion with two of the senior male

clerks.

‘And Miss Marsh doesn’t mind?’ she asked at last.

‘I wouldn’t say that - she doesn’t want to lose you at all,