do you do in the WAAFs?’ Connie continued.
‘Telephone operator,’ said Eva. ‘Mum seems to think it’ll hold me in good stead when I get demobbed. She says I could join the GPO as a telephonist but I’d much rather join the police or something.’
‘Oh no,’ cried Connie. ‘I can’t wait to get out of uniform. I hate it. All those damned buttons to polish, no thank you!’
Eva chuckled.
‘I mean it,’ Connie said defensively. ‘When I went for training in Blackpool, our billet was so damp that every single one of my buttons was green by the morning and that was even after I’d used the button stick and a duster. I had to polish the darned things up again with my uniform cuffs before parade.’
By now, Eva was laughing heartily.
‘You may well laugh,’ Connie continued, ‘but I was forever getting into trouble. There was a constant film over them.’
‘I trained in Blackpool as well,’ said Eva wiping her eyes. ‘1942. I had the choice of factory work or the WAAFs.’
‘I was there in September 1943,’ Connie said. ‘Blowing half a gale on the seafront, it was.’
‘And if your hat blew off while you were marching, you weren’t allowed to stop and pick it up,’ laughed Eva.
‘Yes, and how daft was that?’ Connie remarked.
‘Did you have old Wingate?’
‘You, that gel over there,’ Connie said mimicking Sgt Wingate, the WAAF officer who presided over new recruits, perfectly. ‘Head up, chhh … est out.’ And they both roared.
‘So, what will you do when you get demobbed?’
‘I want to be a nurse,’ said Connie.
‘And they don’t have a uniform?’ Eva teased.
‘Yesss,’ Connie conceded, ‘but it’s much sexier,’ and they both laughed again.
Even after the long walk down The Mall, the crowd outside Buckingham Palace was every bit as good-natured as the crowd had been in Trafalgar Square. People milled about, meeting old friends and new faces with equal enthusiasm. The area around the Victoria Memorial was so overwhelmed with people, you could hardly see the mermaids, mermen or the hippogriff. People sat on the plinths beneath the great angels of Justice and Truth either side of Victoria herself. The statue depicting Motherhood was just as beautiful but it was facing the wrong way. Nobody was interested in what was happening down The Mall. Today all eyes were on the palace.
‘At least he’s home,’ said Eva, rolling her eyes upwards.
Connie turned her head and glanced at the royal standard on the roof, fluttering in the breeze. ‘Oh good-o,’ she grinned as she put on a posh voice. ‘Shall we knock on the door and ask for tea?’ and Eva laughed.
According to one woman in the crowd, the King and Queen had already come out onto the balcony four times so Connie and Eva didn’t hold out much hope that they would be lucky enough to see them. An impromptu conga snaked its way through the crowds and Connie and Eva joined in until they were breathless with laughter.
‘What do you reckon?’ said Eva eventually. ‘Do you want to wait a while?’
‘May as well,’ said Connie with a shrug, ‘now that we’ve walked all this way.’
‘What if we don’t see them?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Connie. ‘At least we were here.’ In her heart of hearts she was hoping they’d be lucky. Two disappointments in one day was too much to bear.
All at once, the cry went up, ‘We want the King, we want the King.’
As it gathered momentum, Connie and Eva joined in. The volume of noise reverberated all around and it felt as if the whole world was stilled by the cry of the crowd. ‘We want the King.’
Dodging one of the few cars still travelling in the area, they crossed the road and joined the people nearer the railings. Connie stared at the imposing building beyond the iron gates and especially at the red- and gold-covered balcony.
‘They say Buckingham Palace has 775 rooms,’ said Eva.
Connie wrinkled her nose. ‘Just think of all that dusting. You’d hardly be bloomin’ finished before you had to start all over again!’
‘Look!’ Eva nudged her arm and Connie’s heart nearly stopped with excitement when a small door within the great centre door opened and a tiny figure in naval uniform came out onto the balcony. The King! King George VI, King of the United Kingdom and the Dominions of the British Empire, and here she was, looking right at him! He raised his arm and with a circular motion of his hand began to wave to the crowd. The Queen in a pale green hat and matching coat and dress had followed him out onto the balcony and when she began to wave as well, the crowd opened its throat and roared. A sea of waving hands and cheering people in front of them, Connie and Eva were carried along with the thrill of it all. In a moment of sudden frustration, Connie stamped her foot. Damn it, Emmett! You should have been here with me, she thought.
Two more figures had joined the King and Queen. Princess Elizabeth in her ATS uniform and Princess Margaret Rose, not yet fifteen and too young to join up, was in a pretty aqua-coloured dress. From where Connie and Eva stood, they were no more than tiny dolls behind the long red- and gold-covered balcony but it was enough. Connie and Eva cheered themselves hoarse.
When eventually the royal family went back inside, the two girls looked at each other with satisfied smiles.
‘I’m starving,’ said Eva. ‘Fancy something to eat?’
‘I’ve got a couple of fish paste sandwiches in my bag,’ said Connie taking it from her shoulder. ‘They’ll be a bit squashed but you’re welcome to share them with me.’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ laughed Eva, ‘but if you don’t mind, I think I can do a bit better than that.’
‘But where are we going to get anything around here?’ Connie cried.
Eva tapped her nose and pulled Connie towards Green Park. When they reached the road, they turned into a side street. Connie hadn’t a clue where she was, but she didn’t feel the least bit nervous. Presently they came across a small crowd laughing and dancing outside a café.
‘Is this where we’re going?’
Eva nodded.
‘How on earth did you know this was here?’
‘My husband’s family has been here for quite a while,’ she said matter-of-factly.
Connie was taken by surprise. Eva had never mentioned a husband. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring either. She was about to mention it when she was swept up with hugs and kisses and handshakes as the family welcomed Eva’s new friend. Someone called out, ‘Queenie, Queenie luv, look who’s ’ere.’
Queenie, a small woman, middle-aged, with a lined face, hair
