Lexie read the letter again, tears of relief forming in her eyes. ‘He does care’ she whispered out loud

Sgt Brady was as handsome as ever when she reported for duty next morning but even the sight of him didn’t bring a smile to her face.

He noted Lexie’s heavy eyes and put it down to the grief she was suffering from the loss of her stepfather and in Sgt Brady’s experience, there was only one antidote for unhappiness and that was hard work.

“There’s a stack of paperwork to be sorted before you take over your shift on the teleprinter,” he said firmly, “and while you’re at it, check our internal mail, it’s not been looked at for a week.”

Lexie saluted, her training forcing her to react immediately to an order from a superior officer. “Yes, sir!” she said, picking up the wire basket full to overflowing with the documentation necessary for the running of an efficient comms room.

Despite herself, Lexie began to feel more relaxed as the demands of the work took her mind away from her own problems and focussed it back on the tasks in front of her.

Even Jenny McKenzie, who had hoped she’d upset Lexie with the news about the Canadian pilots’ departure, was huffed to see her just getting on with the job.

Appetising

Lexie had forgotten all about the internal mail and it wasn’t until the end of her shift that she eventually got round to going to the mail office.

There were the usual leaflets and general information for the comms room but when she checked her own pigeonhole, there were three letters for her, two with stamps on them and one that had been dropped off.

She popped them in her handbag and headed for the NAAFI. Lexie hadn’t eaten since a breakfast of tea and toast in the mess but maybe something more appetising to eat would help settle her grumbling stomach.

Lucy Ashford was sitting alone, pushing some mashed potato round the plate with her fork. Since her promotion to corporal, Lexie had had to step back a bit from her friendship with Lucy but right now, they were both off-duty and like Lexie, Lucy looked like she needed a friend. “Mind if I join you?” she asked. “I’d like that,” Lucy said flatly, “and don’t get the sausages, they taste like sawdust,” she added, putting down her fork and picking up her cup of tea.

“I won’t” Lexie replied, looping her bag and gas mask over the back of the chair. “Be back in a jiffy’” she said, heading for the food counter and wondering why Lucy’s usual cheeriness had deserted her.

She didn’t have long to wait to find out. “Men,” Lucy said, her arms crossed in front of her and a faraway look in her eye.

Lexie waited, biting into a forkful of fish pie. “Why do they always have to leave you, just when you get to... well, like them?” she said, more to herself than Lexie.

“Who’s left you?” Lexie asked, immediately likening Lucy’s situation to her own.

Lucy sighed. “His name is Brad Hollis,” she said, “Pilot Officer Brad Hollis to be exact, Royal Canadian Air Force.”

Lexie almost dropped her fork. Lucy must know what had happened and maybe even where they’d been posted.

She held her breath. “Where has he gone then?”

Letters

Lucy looked at her, suddenly remembering about Lexie’s home leave. “Of course,” she said, “you wouldn’t know what’s been happening. You weren’t in the comms room last week.”

Lexie nodded, Bo McGhee once again foremost in her mind. “Our favourite, Jenny, was on duty and word came through that the Canadians were needed at RAF Montrose, now their training was finished and just the day before the NAAFI dance when Brad Hollis and me were going to meet up.” Lucy sighed again.

So, that was where Bo was – Montrose. Still in Scotland but he might as well have been on the moon, Lexie vexed and he’d still believe that she’d stood him up.

Lexie could empathise with Lucy. They’d both found and then lost the chance of finding love. “Fancy a beer?” Lexie asked, “drown your sorrows?”

Lucy grimaced. “There’s not enough beer in the world,” she said pushing back her chair and gathering her things together, “so, thanks but no thanks.”

Lexie was looking around her, hoping to find a reason to stay and avoid going back to her quarters, when she remembered the letters in her handbag and pulled them out.

She started with the unstamped envelope. Probably another camp leaflet about the joys of the forthcoming NAAFI activities but Lexie could hardly believe her eyes when she read the letter. It was from Bo!

“Dear Lexie I don’t know why you chose not to meet me but it was perhaps that I kissed you on our first date and you didn’t want to repeat the experience.

“I can’t say how sorry I am that I’ve offended you but if you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance, I promise I will be the perfect gentleman. I await your response with hope and forgiveness.”

Lexie read the letter again, tears of relief forming in her eyes. “He does care” she whispered out loud and was now more determined than ever to find a way to reach him.

Sgt Brady smiled at the change in Lexie the next day when she reported for duty, confirming his “work theory” had been responsible.

Formality

“Feeling better?” he asked in a rare breach of the formality that was his usual approach.

Lexie saluted. “Yes, sir,” she said briskly, “reporting for duty.”

Sgt Brady saluted in return and immediately got back to business. “Sit down,” he said, pushing a sheet of paper towards her marked TOP SECRET in red ink.

“There is to be increased coastal sweeps off the Norwegian coast targeting shipping in the North Sea carrying supplies to the German army via ports in Norway.

“Due to heavy losses experienced by Bomber Command, especially Blenheims, all personnel and bomber aircraft at RAF Lossiemouth, not required to meet immediate needs, are to be posted to RAF Montrose.”

Sgt Brady took back the order. “This was received the day you left the base and during your absence, two squadrons and 12 Wellington bombers, along with the newly-trained Canadians have been sent to Montrose.”

Lexie nodded, so that’s what happened, she thought, fear building in her system at the thought of the danger Bo and the other pilots would have to face over the North Sea.