Mornington-By-Mere – (94) The Old Flame

Pilot Officer Ronald Carrington and Land Army girl Fiona Blake met twice on the journey from their home towns when they were traveling to Mornington, once on the train between Nettlefield and Purplemere and again on the bus as they crossed the Finchbottom Vale.

And by the time they reached the quaint picturesque chocolate box  idyll, with its Manor House, 12^th Century Church, Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere, they had fallen in love.

As a result they made a date for the following Saturday which culminated with a good night kiss by the gate of Manor Farm.

 

After that first date at the Old Mill Inn they saw each other as often as her work on the farm and his sorties with the RAF permitted but at the end of April his squadron were notified that they were on the move to an undisclosed destination.

When he met Fiona that evening he was wearing a grave expression

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern

“I have just received some bad news” he informed her

“Why what’s happened?” she asked even more concerned

“The squadron has been posted” he said

“Where to?”

“We don’t know” he replied “We won’t know until the day we leave”

“When is that?” she asked flatly

“In two days” Ronald replied

“Oh God so soon” she exclaimed

“But no one is allowed off base after ten o’clock tonight” he said

“So tonight is your last night” Fiona said sadly

“I’m afraid so, but I will come back to you” he assured her and she threw herself into his arms

“I love you so much” he said

“I love you too” 

“I will write to you every day” he promised “but you might not get them as often, and they might be out of sequence when you receive them depending on where they’re posted from”

“I’ll write everyday too” she said and then she began to cry

And he suspect there would be more tears, after all they wouldn’t be seeing each other again for goodness knew how long.

 

When she had dried her eyes she said

“Let’s not go to the pub, I don’t want to share you with anyone else on our last night together”

So they walked slowly around the village just like they did on their first date.

 

And afterwards they walked back to the farm hand in hand and as he expected there were more tears by the gate and when she was composed enough to say a proper goodbye they kissed and she walked straight into the farmhouse without looking back.  

 

He kept his word and wrote to her everyday even though it was difficult with the amount of training missions they were flying in what was the preparation for D-Day, but he promised her he would so he did and posted them whenever he could.

It became more difficult once they crossed the channel and her letters to him, which arrived as regular as clockwork, became more sporadic once he reached France and by October they had stopped altogether.

Despite her letters drying up he continued to write but only once a week, then one a month and by February of 45 he stopped. 

 

He returned to Mornington in August of 1945 as a Squadron Leader and his first port of call was to Manor Farm to see Fiona but Mrs. Hargrave told him that she had left the farm and the Land Army twelve months earlier after her father was killed in an air raid and she went home to look after her mother.

He asked if she had left a forwarding address, but she hadn’t, and the lady of the house said she had a box full of unread letters and he recognized them as his.    

 

He had spent the three weeks since he learned of his posting, hoping he could reconnect with Fiona and get to the bottom of why she stopped writing.

But after going to the farm he was faced with the fact that he would never see her again.

 

After 3 months in Mornington he was sent on temporary secondment to RAF Millmoor which was a promotion of sorts because at Millmoor he would be flying jets.    

After a month at Millmoor he got a call from one of his old Squadron who was going to be in Nettlefield a few days before Christmas. 

“We get in on Saturday morning” William said “so we could have lunch maybe, you me and Crispin”

“Ok great” Ronald replied

So on Saturday morning, a week later, he caught the train at Millmoor station.

 

He had planned to meet up with William and Crispin in Nettlefield at a restaurant called “The Boars Head” at half past twelve on Saturday, and he had left the base five minutes later than he intended and thought he was going to miss his train but for some unknown reason he not only caught the train, but he arrived in Nettlefield half an hour early.

So he stood outside the station staring at his watch and scratching his head trying to figure out where he had gone wrong with his calculations.

But it was snowing hard and he was feeling the cold so he decided to have a beer at the nearest watering hole, which happened to be “The Grey Friar Inn”.

 

As it was almost Christmas the pub was bedecked with the best that post war Downshire could conjure up, namely paper chains, holly and balloons.

It was a very welcoming pub despite the understated festive décor, there was a roaring fire in the grate, and a middle aged man was playing Christmas songs on the piano and there was Mornington ale on tap.

He ordered a pint and sat at the nearest table to the fire and smiled at the tableaux before him of the mixed clientele of Christmas shoppers and workers at lunch.

The music was good, but then he thought you couldn’t go wrong with Christmas music, and the pianist was good.

 

It was when he was halfway down his pint that he spotted a familiar face and he had to do a double take.

The girl was short with a nice little figure, and long straight brown hair and a rather attractive, if heavily freckled face, lovely hazel eyes, a cute nose and a thin-lipped smile.

 

Ronald was halfway down his pint that he spotted a familiar face and he had to do a double take.

The girl was short with a nice little figure, and long straight brown hair and a rather attractive, if heavily freckled face, lovely hazel eyes, a cute nose and a thin-lipped smile.

 

She was dressed differently from the last time they met, her summer dress had been replaced by a dark green tweed skirt and a brown cable knit sweater, tan coloured stockings encasing her shapely legs and she had brown brogues on her tiny feet.

He watched her move from table to table collecting empties and putting them on the bar.

She was an altogether more confident girl than the shy little mouse he first met on the train to Purplemere,

 

But although he had fallen in love with her, a love that was clearly still alive, judging by the effect that seeing her had had on him, there was still the question as to why she had stopped writing to him.   

He was desperate to get up and walk to the bar and speak to her but he feared his legs might not carry him so instead he called out.

“Fiona? Fiona Blake?”

“Yes” she answered and as she turned towards him recognition dawned on her face and she smiled

“Ronald” she said and walked over towards him.

“Hello” he said

“Ronald” she responded

 

Fiona had mixed feelings when she saw him, because she still loved him but she was also still hurt that he hadn’t written back to her after  she left Mornington even though she wrote to him half a dozen times explaining why she left and where she had gone.

Of course what she didn’t know was that after D-Day there was a back log in the mail supply to frontline units and it was several weeks before it got on its way, unfortunately one of the Dakota’s ferrying the sacks across the channel was shot down and crashed into the sea, and Fiona’s letters along with it.

 

Wearing half a smile she walked towards him and asked

“Why didn’t you write?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

“I did” he said “I wrote everyday as I promised, until it became clear that you had stopped”

“I didn’t get them all if you did” she pointed out

“Well when I went to Manor Farm Mrs. Hargrave showed me a box full of my letters, which were delivered after you left” he explained

“But why?” she asked “Why didn’t you send it to Heathervale?”

“What’s Heathervale?”

“That’s where I live” she snapped “I wrote and told you that”

“I never got that letter” he said and she went pale and sat down heavily on a chair

“I don’t know what to say, I thought you had just lost interest in me”

“Never” he said “Not for an instant”

“I’m sorry” she said in her soft mousy voice.

“FIONA! Customers!” the landlord barked

“OK!” she snapped “I have to get back to work”

 

“So it would seem” he said and then looked at his watch “oh God! I have to go”

“What? No, don’t go” she implored “We need to talk”

“I have to, I’m meeting William and Crispin, they’re only in Nettlefield for a few hours” he said drained his glass and stood up

“I’ll come back later”

“I finish at seven” Fiona said

“Great I’ll see you then” He said, smiled and left and Fiona watch him leave with tears welling in her eyes.

 

Ronald reached “The Boars Head” at half past one on the dot only to find the other two were late, which left him time to dwell on the meeting with Fiona, until the other two sauntered in fifteen minutes later.

“Sorry we’re late” Crispin said, “my fault I’m afraid, my train was delayed”

 

It was a wonderful reunion and an exceptionally nice meal considering the post war shortages but it was the company that made it so enjoyable.

Ronald enjoyed it so much that he didn’t have time to think about Fiona and before he knew it the afternoon had gone.

When they left the restaurant it was almost five o’clock as they headed to the station.

It was snowing heavily and when they got there they found that no trains were running south, but William and Crispin, who were heading north, managed to get on the last train running.

After they said their goodbyes he tried the taxi rank but there were no cabs to be found so after he had met Fiona again he would be stranded in Nettlefield.

 

He walked to the “Grey Friar Inn” and went to the reception and managed to secure their last vacant room.

It was a few minutes after five when he was handed the key for room six and as the rather gruff receptionist returned to the bar a small figure wrapped up against the cold, came through the door from the noisy lounge bar and stopped dead when they caught sight of him.

“Ronald” she said, her voice muffled by her scarf.

“Is that Fiona under all that?” he asked

She didn’t speak but nodded.

“Where are you off to?” he queried

“I’ve got to get home,” she said

“I thought we needed to talk” he pointed out

“We do and I want to but I need to get home” Fiona assisted 

“There aren’t any trains,” he told her

“What? To Heathervale?” she asked urgently

“To anywhere” he replied

“And there are no taxis either”

 “Oh damn,” Fiona exclaimed

“I have to try” she said, “I’d like to stay, but I have to try”

“Ok” he said “I’ll walk with you”

She nodded and then they walked out into the snowy night,

 

They passed the empty taxi rank on the way and when they reached the station they found it was closed and Fiona turned towards him and put her face against his chest and began to cry.

“I”

“Cant”

“Get”

“Home” she said between sobs

Inside his head he said

“Well I did tell you that”

But saying it out loud would not have helped the situation so he just thought it and made sympathetic noises instead.

“All the trains are cancelled,” she said

“I know,” he thought

“And there are no taxis”

“I told you that as well,” he thought

After a few moments he asked

“What’s at home that you are so desperate to get home for?”

He was certain it wasn’t a sweetheart and he was right.

“My mum” she answered

“For God’s sake” he thought “you’re in your twenties, you’re a big girl now”

Out loud he just said

“Oh?”

And she explained that the air raid that killed her father also paralyzed her mother and Fiona looked after her.

She worked all day in at the pub in Nettlefield but she was at home mornings and evenings to tend to her mum.

Ronald felt bad when he heard her explanation.

“I have to try and get home” Fiona said

“But it’s just not possible” he said “is there anyone in the village who could check on her”

“Yes, Mrs. Rooney” she replied “But I can’t ask her because she doesn’t have a phone”

“No, but Warrant Officer Coleman does” Ronald said

“Who?”

“Former WO Coleman at Mornington Field is now Police Sgt Coleman in the village of Heathervale” he said “come on let’s find a phone box”

 

The nearest phone box was just across the street so they ran hand in hand across the road and squeezed into it, and Ronald phoned Sgt Coleman and after a minute or two of reminiscence he explained the reason for the call and the nature of the emergency and the Sgt promised he would dispatch his PC out into the snow to Mrs. Rooney’s.

 

“Thanks George” he said and hung up the phone

“Thank you” she said and hugged him

“That’s ok”

“What now?” she asked expectantly

“He’s going to ring the “Grey Friar” when he has news” he replied

“Why there?” she asked

“I have a room” he replied “we can stay there tonight, and we can set off early tomorrow morning”

“I can’t spend the night with you” she said with horror

“It’s ok, you can have the bed” Ronald assured her “There won’t be any impropriety, I promise”

“Ok” she said meekly as she gazed up at him and he kissed her.

 

They got back to the “Grey Friar” and weren’t able to go straight to the room as the rather gruff receptionist he’d seen earlier, who was Mrs. Cleary, the Landlords wife, was behind the counter so they went into the bar and ordered drinks, but they didn’t stay long as it was very loud and raucous, so they quickly drank up and as soon as she saw Mrs. Cleary walk into the bar Fiona knew that reception would be unattended so she discreetly took the key for room six from Ronald, slipped out of the bar and sneaked up to the room and he followed five minutes later, but was stopped in his tracks by grumpy Mrs. Cleary.

“Squadron leader!”

“Yes Mrs. Cleary” he said  

“Telephone” she snapped

 

When he got to room six he found Fiona sitting on the end of the bed still wearing her outdoor clothes

At first glance the room was a bit small and dingy but on reflection he thought it was better than some of the billets in France and Belgium he’d stayed in after D-Day.

Fiona was looking rather glum but he had some news that would cheer her up, because it was Sgt Rooney on the phone to say that Mrs. Rooney had been contacted and she was only too happy to oblige, and to tell Fiona not to worry.

 

As promised he let Fiona have the bed and he spent the night in an armchair but neither of them slept as they talked the night away.

Saying all the things they had said before in letters that had gone unread.

 

The next morning, although physically and mentally they were collectively, a spent force, they had never felt more alive as they had found each other again, and the happiness that went along with that reunion.

But as happy as she was that the man she loved was back in her life she was eager to get back to Heathervale to see her mum.

The heavy snow of the day before had given way to rain during the night so they thought the trains would be running some kind of service, the only problem was getting her out of his room unseen. 

So Ronald went down the stairs first and distracted Mrs. Cleary while Fiona slipped out unseen into the street then they walked to the station together.

 

Although the station was open and trains were running there was a greatly reduced service due to the previous day’s cancellations, which was going to result in a rather lengthy wait on the platform.

He left her looking at the revised timetable while he went and got the tickets, and when he returned she said

“There’s a train going south in ten minutes, but I’ve got a longer wait for a train to Heathervale”

“That’s ok because I’m coming with you” Ronald said

“You don’t have to do that” she said

“I know, but I’m not letting you get away from me again without knowing where to find you” he said

“Don’t worry you’re mine now, forever” Fiona said and they kissed