Read Online The Gunner Girl by Clare Harvey - Free Book Online Page A

Thy name . . .
    It was dark by the time someone – the corporal – came back and cast a cursory eye over the spotless floor; the company sergeant major not bothering to turn up himself. Then, Edie
trudged through the darkening evening to the empty cookhouse. There was a plate of toast and jam and a mug of tea waiting for her. The toast was burnt and cold, and the tea tepid. After she’d
finished, she put the plate and mug on the counter and was just thinking about whether to head to the NAAFI for a cocoa or just give up on the whole shebang and go to bed, when she heard the sound
of the cookhouse door opening. She turned to look, and there was the company sergeant major. He took off his hat and hesitated, just a fraction, before beginning to walk towards her. Edie
didn’t know where to look; there was just the two of them in the empty cookhouse, after blackout. She held her breath. What now? Was the wretched floor still not clean enough? How she wished
she’d never entered the recruiting office and signed her name in triplicate on their silly forms. How she wished she’d never even heard of Mary Churchill. How she wished she could just
go home.
    Edie watched the CSM’s approaching bulk. His uniform looked more brown than khaki under the dull lights, and his face was no longer beetroot-coloured. He cleared his throat as he got
nearer and she braced up, readying herself for the inevitable bawling out.
    â€˜Sir,’ she breathed, bracing up again, almost unable to speak.
    â€˜I thought I’d find you here,’ he said. ‘Stand easy.’ She could see the line where his hat had cut a groove in the skin on his forehead, and the deep furrow between
his bushy brows. ‘I’ve got your parents in my office, Lightwater. They’ve come to take you home.’
    â€˜Sir?’
    â€˜Your mum and dad. They’ve been worried sick.’ He rubbed a hand across his head, smoothing down the thinning hair that was slicked down against his scalp.
    Edie didn’t know what to say. Mummy and Pop were here! She wondered how on earth they’d found her – but then remembered Pop’s old friend George Cowie, who was very high
up in the War Office, so maybe . . .
    â€˜Why the hell didn’t you let them know you’d joined up? We’ve had the police here as well,’ said the CSM, interrupting her thoughts. He let out a sigh.
    â€˜I didn’t think they’d let me come,’ she said.
    â€˜I see.’ His thumb flicked the rim of his hat.
    â€˜So I can leave, sir?’ she said. ‘I can just walk out?’ Could she? Could she really just leave all this behind? Go home now, back to her room, back to Mummy and Pop and
Cook and Marjorie and Mrs Carson and quiet nights in front of the fire.
    He cleared his throat again. ‘Well, you’re a volunteer, not a conscript, so if you really feel you have to leave then I think we could find some form of legitimate discharge –
your height perhaps – in your case, at least.’
    In her case? Had Pop asked George Cowie to pull some strings? Edie looked at the CSM and he looked back at her. His eyes had lost their glassiness. They just looked red-rimmed and tired, like an
old man’s.
    â€˜The thing is, Private, take a look at me. I’ve been in the army twenty years. The army made a man of me.’ Here we go, thought Edie. He’s going to tell me to grow up, and
try to bully me into staying. ‘And I’ll tell you this,’ he continued. ‘There’s nothing I’d like better than to be at home right now.’
    She thought she knew what was coming next. Something about how everyone was homesick, but that they were all in it to fight Hitler. About how if they all pulled together then they could beat
Germany and stop this terrible war. About her patriotic duty. But the speech never came.
    â€˜I’ve got a son your age,’ he said, rubbing a large