‘No, the family has always lived where we are now. Bates, do you think you could find the necessary beds, a chest of drawers and so on? There’s more than enough room for three girls in a bedroom.’

  ‘I reckon there’ll be things in the attics, my lady. Me and Billy will go and have a look after we’ve got these fires going.’

  ‘Is there any way of knowing if this is clear before we light the fire?’ Sarah asked as she tried to peer into the darkness of the chimney.

  ‘You leave that to us, miss. Which two rooms do you want getting ready?’

  By the time the man from the base turned up, the rooms were ready, lovely and warm, and even the antiquated geyser in the bathroom had reluctantly rumbled into life. Sarah was just on her way down the stairs when there was a thunderous knocking on the front door.

  Mummy was sitting in the drawing room looking like the lady she was, not a hair out of place, looking as young and beautiful as ever. It was a great shame, but Sarah had been told many times by well-meaning visitors that she didn’t take after her mother but her father.

  This meant she was tall and slim with nondescript features, mid-brown hair and, in her opinion, only her eyes were worth complimenting. Her father had these spectacular cornflower-blue eyes too.

  She opened the door, expecting to find someone her father’s age, but instead there was a tall, red-headed, green-eyed, devastatingly handsome young flight lieutenant standing in front of her.

  2

  ‘Flight Lieutenant Angus Trent here to see Lady Harcourt.’ Angus had caught a glimpse of the delectable Lady Harcourt in the village and this wasn’t her. The girl standing in front of him must be a servant of some sort as family members wouldn’t answer the door themselves.

  ‘I’m Miss Sarah Harcourt, my mother’s waiting to see you in the drawing room. Shall I take your greatcoat and so on? Hanging it in here won’t make it much drier. It would do better in the kitchen.’

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Miss Harcourt.’ He quickly shrugged off his outer garments and looked around, expecting to see a maid or housekeeper ready to take it.

  ‘There’s no one else, Flight Lieutenant, only myself and my mother live here. We do have a housekeeper but she’s not here as her husband’s had an accident.’

  With some reluctance he handed over his dripping coat, unwound his scarf and rammed it and his gloves up one of the sleeves. His cap was already pushed through the epaulette on his shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, much appreciated.’

  The girl vanished, leaving him standing in the huge, freezing hall not sure exactly where the drawing room was as there were several doors, and all but two were closed.

  ‘In here, young man. I’m not coming out to greet you as it’s far too cold.’

  He strode across and through the double doors from which the voice had come. Lady Harcourt was even more beautiful face to face – quite breathtaking – and didn’t look old enough to have an adult daughter.

  ‘Sarah has gone to make tea. Won’t you sit down? There’s no point in you beginning your explanation until she’s here as having the girls is her idea and, therefore, she will be managing everything.’

  Angus followed her to the fire and took the seat she indicated. There were elaborate, black lacquered screens around the seating area. If these were to make sitting here more comfortable, then they’d failed spectacularly.

  His breath condensed in front of his face and she laughed. ‘It’s absolutely beastly here, isn’t it? I thought I should speak to you in the drawing room as that’s what my husband would expect. However, I’ve changed my mind and will do what my daughter suggested. Follow me, young man, I’ll take you somewhere you won’t freeze to death.’

  ‘I’m a fighter pilot, ma’am, and I’m more warmly dressed than you are.’

  Her tinkling laugh echoed in the draughty passageway as she dashed along in front of him and into a much more pleasant and far warmer room on the opposite side of the house.

  ‘Miss Harcourt will wonder where we’ve gone.’

  ‘No, she told me it was silly to sit in the drawing room and I’m forced to accept that on this occasion she was right.’

  Angus looked around the room with interest, never having been inside the house of an aristocrat before. It looked no different to his own family sitting room – polished wooden furniture, comfortable well-worn chairs, sofas, and a variety of watercolours and oils on the walls.

  ‘Lady Harcourt, we really appreciate your offer to house the six WAAF arriving tomorrow. We didn’t know we were getting any girls – we certainly didn’t apply for them.’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty of things they can do that you now have men doing – such as in the catering departments, admin positions and so on.’ She sat, neatly folding her ankles, every inch an aristocrat even though she’d not been born one.

  ‘It’s not that there aren’t duties they can fulfil adequately, it’s the fact that having females about is just unnecessary. Better for the men to keep their minds on the job and not be worrying about women and be competing for their attentions.’ Even to himself he sounded like an arse, and he was quite sure she must agree with him.

  Miss Harcourt came in and put the tray down rather more vigorously than was necessary. She had obviously heard his last comment. Should he apologise or just pretend he hadn’t said something so crass?

  ‘I’m going to be a doctor, Flight Lieutenant Trent. Are you suggesting that I wouldn’t be able to do my job as well as a man?’

  He ran his finger around his collar, which had become unaccountably tight. ‘No, of course I’m not. There are just some things that a man can do more efficiently than a woman – nothing to do with intelligence, but physical differences.’

  She ignored his reply. ‘Are you also suggesting that a WAAF isn’t professional enough to do her duty without chasing after any airman she might happen to see?’ She handed him a plain china mug of tea, milk already in, without offering him any sugar.

  He was tempted to hand it back and say he drank it black with sugar rather than white without but decided he’d already dug himself a deep enough hole. He followed her lead and ignored her previous remarks – pretended nothing untoward had been said by either of them.

  He thought he’d better explain exactly what was happening on the base. ‘Until a few months ago we were an RAF training base. There’s a squadron of Hurricanes and some Aussie chaps in Blenheims. The War Office expects us to be used for emergency landing in the future as well as an active fighter base.’ They exchanged a puzzled glance so he continued. ‘In other words, ma’am, we’re still sorting ourselves out. Wing Commander Billings and myself are the senior officers plus a few dozen others, less exalted, at the moment, which is why I’m here.’

  ‘I take it that you’re a regular and not a volunteer?’

  ‘I am, my lady, I’ve already served five years. I’m here to get things organised and will then have my own squadron of Spitfires but I doubt I’ll be based here.’

  The girl was apparently unimpressed by his account. ‘I take it you intend to get to the point eventually?’

  ‘I thought I’d made myself clear – but obviously not. We don’t need WAAF getting under our feet at the moment but it seems that we’re getting them anyway. Hence the necessity for billeting them with you.’

  Lady Harcourt frowned at her daughter. ‘And we’re very happy to be able to help out. We’ve got more than two dozen unused bedrooms in this vast house.’

  He decided to plough on with his rehearsed speech and ignore the girl’s unhelpful interruptions.

  ‘Miss Harcourt, Lady Harcourt, I came here to thank you for your generous offer to take these WAAF in until we can organise something on the base. They will be expected to do their own chores. You will provide them with suitable accommodation and breakfast and dinner.’

  ‘What time do they have to be on duty and what time will they be returning? Will they keep regular hours or be working on a shift pattern?’

  ‘Good question, miss, but I’ve no idea of the answer. I’m sorry, as we didn’t even apply for any, we’ve not got things in place. We don’t know what these girls have been trained to do, we don’t know exactly what they’ll be doing or when. I’m hoping you’ll keep them here for a week or so. I think it highly unlikely they’ll be working nights, but who knows?’

  ‘In which case, Flight Lieutenant, shall we say that breakfast will be served at seven o’clock and supper at the same time in the evening?’

  ‘That seems reasonable, Miss Harcourt. They will, no doubt, get a day off at some point and will then want something at midday. Will that be a problem?’

  Again, the girl answered. ‘As you don’t require them for a week at least, we’ll have to provide luncheon. I hope our remuneration will reflect this?’

  Lady Harcourt visibly shuddered at the mention of something so vulgar as money.

  ‘It certainly will.’

  She nodded her thanks. ‘We’ve turned one of the bedrooms into a sitting room for them. They can use that if they’re not going out. If any of them can ride, then, when the weather’s not so beastly, they can come out with me if they want to. We have two hunters as well as my own mare that need exercise.’

  The remainder of his visit was less fractious and they both seemed delighted with the payment they would get for each boarder. He was more than satisfied with the accommodation offered and thought it was a great deal better than the unfortunate girls would get on the base once things had been arranged for them.

  Lady Harcourt had remained in her sitting room and the girl had shown him around. She wasn’t exactly pretty, but there was something striking about her and she was certainly intelligent, and lively company. Her eyes, however, were spectacular.

  ‘If you look across the park, flight lieutenant, you’ll see some woodland. If the girls go through there then they’ll be at the base in a fraction of the time it takes to walk along the lanes. Mummy was upset when your squadrons arrived, thinking you would be constantly flying overhead with those noisy fighters. Fortunately, we don’t appear to be on the flight path.’

  ‘No, you’re not, as the runway is parallel to your boundary. Therefore, we take off and land alongside rather than flying across. I can’t promise it will remain like that once the balloon goes up.’

  ‘What balloon? Barrage?’

  ‘No actual balloons involved, it just means when the fighting starts.’

  ‘I see. Anyway, whatever happens, there’s a war on, and we’ll just have to jolly well lump it. Now, have you seen enough?’

  ‘Absolutely. The girls will arrive in transport of some sort, sometime tomorrow. I’ll have a few hundredweight of coal delivered to you in the morning. You’re going to need it.’

  He wasn’t sure if he should offer to shake hands but she kept hers firmly in the pockets of her very unflattering dungarees, so he did the same. His greatcoat was pleasantly warm. He was about to shove his arm through the sleeve when she laughed and grabbed it.

  ‘Just a minute, your gloves and things are up there. Let me take them out for you.’ She deftly removed his scarf and gloves and handed them over with a smile.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Harcourt.’

  She opened the door for him and, as he was walking out, he remembered there was going to be a dance in the mess that weekend to welcome the new arrivals.

  ‘I hope you’ll accompany the WAAF to the dance at the base on Saturday. We’ll be sending transport for the girls. Do you think you could persuade Lady Harcourt to come too?’

  ‘Good heavens, I should think not. She wouldn’t dream of going out without my father. I might come, but it depends if I’m busy.’

  ‘Busy?’

  ‘I have to look after your WAAF as well as everything else unless our housekeeper is back.’

  ‘They will only want feeding. Surely that’s not going to take up all your time?’

  There was something about this officer that grated. He was too sure of himself – arrogant even – it was probably because he only had to raise an eyebrow to get a girl to do what he said.

  ‘If the weather’s as bad as it is now then it hardly seems sensible to hold a dance at all. The girls would be better off remaining here. Good afternoon, flight lieutenant.’ She stepped back and closed the door on him.

  Her mother had drifted into the grand hall and observed the exchange with some amusement. ‘I thought him rather sweet, certainly good-looking, but obviously not to your taste.’

  ‘The last thing I want to do is put on a fancy frock and go outside in freezing temperatures just to prance around a makeshift dance floor being pawed and ogled by sex-starved members of the RAF.’ She hadn’t meant to reveal that, despite the efforts of her father to keep her cloistered, she wasn’t entirely ignorant or innocent.

  Instead of being shocked, her mother laughed. ‘Well done, darling. As far as I’m concerned, the decision is yours – if you want to go, then do so. But let’s not dawdle here any longer or we’ll freeze.’

  Angus stared at the closed door in astonishment. He thought the aristocracy were supposed to have good manners. He regretted his impulsive invitation to the informal dance they were holding on Saturday. With any luck she’d decide not to come.

  He’d travelled from the base in a camouflaged Hillman Minx. This unexciting vehicle had got him here in one piece and he hoped would do the same on the return journey.

  Win Co had persuaded him to take this posting, promising that once things were up and running at Manston then he would have his own squadron to command. He’d had a minor prang which meant he couldn’t fly for a few weeks so he’d agreed – reluctantly. Manston was part of Fighter Group 11 but would be used mostly as a forward base and the squadrons would only stop to refuel on their way to France or to fight the Germans in the Channel.

  He’d been trained on both Hurricanes and Spitfires and much preferred the latter. They could be compared to a racehorse, whereas the Hurries were the carthorses. Who wouldn’t want to be in the fastest, most manoeuvrable fighter if they had a choice?

  The drive was mercifully short and when he turned on to the road that led into the village he carefully steered the car into the tracks that ran down the centre. There’d obviously been at least one other car along here this morning. What he needed was a stiff drink and with any luck the pub would be open.

  The car skidded to a halt on the gravel outside and he scrambled out and made a dash for the door. It was locked. The window opened above his head and the landlady, Vera, poked her head out.

  ‘We don’t open until six, Flight Lieutenant Trent, you should know that by now.’

  He was given no opportunity to answer as she vanished and the window slammed shut. What was it about Kentish women that made them so belligerent and disobliging? He kicked the snow from his shoes, wishing he’d not bothered to put on his best blues and had worn his flight suit and flying boots, which would have been far warmer.

  He crashed the gears, which didn’t improve his temper, and by the time he arrived at the base he’d barely recovered his good humour and headed for the officers’ mess – if it could be called that. Until the refurbs were done, they were using empty offices. The other ranks fared better as they had a brick-built mess and decent accommodation.

  The dance would be held there and he was quite certain the airmen had already invited most of the village to attend. The brown jobs that manned the guns built around the base had their own barracks and there was very little fraternisation between his men and the army. He doubted they would have been invited to this dance – he hoped not as he’d been told there was usually trouble when they did intermingle at village functions.

  Once Sarah and her mother were safely in the warmth and comfort of the kitchen, she produced her notepad and began to jot down how much it might cost them to feed and house the six girls. When she totted it up and put it against the amount they were going to be given, she was astonished.

  ‘Taking into account the fact that they will be eating food we already have and didn’t have to pay for, as well as the free coal that’s going to be delivered tomorrow, we’re going to do really well out of this arrangement, Mummy.’

  ‘It’s going to make a lot of extra work, for you especially, as Betty might not be back for a few days. You also have the horses to exercise and the chickens to take care of.’

  ‘If I’m not here at mealtimes then I’m quite sure you can manage to boil an egg, make the tea, or put a saucepan of stew on the range.’

  ‘It’s about time I learnt to cook. Your father didn’t like me to come in here. I don’t suppose you remember, but when you were very small not only did I have a nanny to take care of you, there was also the cook, two housemaids and the housekeeper. Outside there were half a dozen journeymen as well as the grooms and gardeners.’ She was counting on her fingers as she spoke. ‘There was also a chauffeur and a Bentley for him to drive.’

  Joanna rather thought she preferred the present circumstances, despite the lack of comforts, as she’d never been comfortable being waited on. But it was a worry that at any moment the bank could refuse to honour her cheques.

  ‘I can vaguely remember there being a lot of servants in black frocks and white pinnies dashing about the house. When did it change?’

  ‘Although your father never discussed such things with me, I think he lost a lot of money in the depression a few years ago. Certainly, that’s when we cut back. Your father kept the car but drove it himself. As far as I know it’s still sitting in the barn gathering dust.’

  ‘Well, he’s not here now to tell us what to do. I know he loves us but I felt smothered, controlled, and I’m going to enjoy being able to make my own decisions. Do you realise how hard it was for me not being allowed to mix with the villagers? I’ve never had friends my own age and actually, although I hated my boarding school, I often used to think that it was preferable to being here.’