Mrs Fortescue, and it was quite likely that he would be a personal pal of Mr Hindmarsh (H. J. K. Hindmarsh Esquire, C.I.E.), our General Manager.
I went down to the yards well before the troop specials were due in. The ladies and I gathered at the Yard Foreman’s office in the middle of the yards. We were talking together there when Victoria arrived with her father. An engine was shunting over the hump close beside us, and there was a roll of wheels and clanking of buffers all the time.
At the same time Colonel Savage and Lieutenant Macaulay arrived from the opposite direction. Victoria drew herself up and saluted Savage very carefully. He saluted her just as carefully. He looked her up and down as she stood there, and said, ‘You can wear mufti whenever you like. Women and uniforms don’t go together.’
‘Especially when they’ve got such good figures. Better than Betty Grable,’ Lieutenant Macaulay said.
I agreed with Savage about women in uniform. Victoria would look good in a sack, but those WAC (I) clothes were not pretty. She wore a tight, short drill skirt, a khaki shirt, and a fore-and-aft hat perched on the right side of her curls—and khaki stockings and big brown shoes and a blue shoulder cord. I happened to know everything underneath was also plain and khaki, because she’d showed me when she got her first uniform.
Victoria said to Savage very stiffly, ‘This is my father, sir. He is an engine driver.’
Macaulay said, ‘Oh.’ He probably never expected Victoria, who was so beautiful and a subaltern, to have an engine driver as her father. Savage turned to Mr Jones and held out his hand. The wide brim of his Gurkha hat was starched and straight as a board. He wore it almost flat on his head, while Macaulay’s was tilted very much to the right and showed a lot of curly fair hair under it on the left. I hung around dose bythem, waiting to speak to Victoria.
Savage said to Mr Jones, ‘I’m sorry we had to take your daughter away from you, sir.’
I started, and Victoria did too, to hear Savage calling Mr Jones ‘sir’. Mr Jones wrung Savage’s hand very hard and said, ‘Oh, don’t call me “sir”, sir.’
‘Well, you’re a father,’ Savage said and smiled. That was the first time I saw him smile. I couldn’t believe it was the same person who had got out of the train on Saturday, this smile was so hot and brilliant, and it crinkled all his face round his eyes. ‘We’ll look after your daughter,’ he said. ‘She’ll be living at home with you. She’s going to help Mr Taylor and me to help you to keep the trains running.’ He’d seen me by then and nodded to me when he mentioned my name.
Mr Jones said, ‘Good, jolly good! She is a clever girl, Colonel, and works hard. But she is a woman, eh?’
‘She looks like one,’ Savage said and glanced again at Victoria. Victoria caught my eye, and I think I know what was on her mind. She was wishing her father wouldn’t be taken in so easily. These people were snobs really. But Pater said, ‘Yes, man! But she works well, for a woman. You should see the reports she got while she was at the General Headquarters.’
‘Colonel Savage doesn’t want to hear about that,’ Victoria said, blushing and angry.
Mr Jones said, ‘I expect he knows, girl. You do not become a lieutenant-colonel in the military department while you are such a young man for being a fool. You are not forty, Colonel, I bet?’
‘Thirty-four.’
I was surprised. Why, he was two years younger than I was. He looked older.
Mr Jones said, ‘Thirty-four! Well, well. My grandfather was a military man, Colonel. Sergeant J. T. Duck. He retired from the Queen’s Fusiliers in eighteen sixty-three. He was the first man to take a train from here to Gondwara when the line was built.’
‘That’s very interesting,’ Savage said. He looked interested too, but Macaulay yawned behind his hand.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Mr Jones said He was wearing his topi then, and his
I went down to the yards well before the troop specials were due in. The ladies and I gathered at the Yard Foreman’s office in the middle of the yards. We were talking together there when Victoria arrived with her father. An engine was shunting over the hump close beside us, and there was a roll of wheels and clanking of buffers all the time.
At the same time Colonel Savage and Lieutenant Macaulay arrived from the opposite direction. Victoria drew herself up and saluted Savage very carefully. He saluted her just as carefully. He looked her up and down as she stood there, and said, ‘You can wear mufti whenever you like. Women and uniforms don’t go together.’
‘Especially when they’ve got such good figures. Better than Betty Grable,’ Lieutenant Macaulay said.
I agreed with Savage about women in uniform. Victoria would look good in a sack, but those WAC (I) clothes were not pretty. She wore a tight, short drill skirt, a khaki shirt, and a fore-and-aft hat perched on the right side of her curls—and khaki stockings and big brown shoes and a blue shoulder cord. I happened to know everything underneath was also plain and khaki, because she’d showed me when she got her first uniform.
Victoria said to Savage very stiffly, ‘This is my father, sir. He is an engine driver.’
Macaulay said, ‘Oh.’ He probably never expected Victoria, who was so beautiful and a subaltern, to have an engine driver as her father. Savage turned to Mr Jones and held out his hand. The wide brim of his Gurkha hat was starched and straight as a board. He wore it almost flat on his head, while Macaulay’s was tilted very much to the right and showed a lot of curly fair hair under it on the left. I hung around dose bythem, waiting to speak to Victoria.
Savage said to Mr Jones, ‘I’m sorry we had to take your daughter away from you, sir.’
I started, and Victoria did too, to hear Savage calling Mr Jones ‘sir’. Mr Jones wrung Savage’s hand very hard and said, ‘Oh, don’t call me “sir”, sir.’
‘Well, you’re a father,’ Savage said and smiled. That was the first time I saw him smile. I couldn’t believe it was the same person who had got out of the train on Saturday, this smile was so hot and brilliant, and it crinkled all his face round his eyes. ‘We’ll look after your daughter,’ he said. ‘She’ll be living at home with you. She’s going to help Mr Taylor and me to help you to keep the trains running.’ He’d seen me by then and nodded to me when he mentioned my name.
Mr Jones said, ‘Good, jolly good! She is a clever girl, Colonel, and works hard. But she is a woman, eh?’
‘She looks like one,’ Savage said and glanced again at Victoria. Victoria caught my eye, and I think I know what was on her mind. She was wishing her father wouldn’t be taken in so easily. These people were snobs really. But Pater said, ‘Yes, man! But she works well, for a woman. You should see the reports she got while she was at the General Headquarters.’
‘Colonel Savage doesn’t want to hear about that,’ Victoria said, blushing and angry.
Mr Jones said, ‘I expect he knows, girl. You do not become a lieutenant-colonel in the military department while you are such a young man for being a fool. You are not forty, Colonel, I bet?’
‘Thirty-four.’
I was surprised. Why, he was two years younger than I was. He looked older.
Mr Jones said, ‘Thirty-four! Well, well. My grandfather was a military man, Colonel. Sergeant J. T. Duck. He retired from the Queen’s Fusiliers in eighteen sixty-three. He was the first man to take a train from here to Gondwara when the line was built.’
‘That’s very interesting,’ Savage said. He looked interested too, but Macaulay yawned behind his hand.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Mr Jones said He was wearing his topi then, and his
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