“Wait. If you have a moment, I would like to ask you how I can help. In the village, I mean. I know my family hasn’t been very active, and I apologize for that. But I would like that to change. My parents are away for the time being, and I’m now the lady of the manor, you might say, and I see on the notice board that there’s much to do here in the village. For the war effort, I mean. And to . . . to serve God.” She was rambling, her words stumbling along like a drunkard on a crooked path, but the vicar smiled kindly.
“No need to apologize, Miss Clarkson. We’ll simply go forward from here. There is, indeed, much to do as we prepare for the defense of England. We welcome all the help we can get.”
“I would like to do more for the church, too. I know I haven’t been very involved, but I’ve seen the work that other churches in England are doing, and I very much want to be. Involved here, I mean. To show my gratitude for Alfie. The message board is a bit overwhelming.”
The vicar nodded and sat down in the pew in front of her, crossing his legs and resting his arm on the back of the pew as he faced her. “I can describe some of the ways the other villagers are involved and you can decide what suits you. Fair enough?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We always need volunteers to take shifts as rooftop spotters to look for enemy aircraft. This is especially important since an invasion is imminent and will likely include Nazi paratroopers dropping from the sky. The battle for Britain has already begun, and our valiant RAF fighter pilots are doing a remarkable job of keeping the enemy at bay. But the Nazis will have an advantage once France falls and the Luftwaffe takes control of their airfields thirty miles across the channel. I’m told they’ll try to knock out our air defenses first, as they prepare to invade us. And as you know, our village is quite close to several airfields.”
“Yes, I see.” Audrey hadn’t imagined enemy paratroopers landing near Wellingford. She found the idea frightening.
“If you aren’t squeamish,” Rev. Hamlin continued, “the government offers first aid classes so we’ll be mobilized to help in the event of an emergency. It’s expected that the enemy will begin massive bombardments to try to weaken us by destroying our war industries and crippling our ports to prevent shipping and cause slow starvation. If the Nazi invasions of other nations are any indication, we can expect aerial bombing raids quite soon. Once they begin, the need for air-raid wardens, civil defense workers, fire brigade volunteers, and medics will skyrocket.”
“Oh, dear.” Audrey felt the color draining from her face as he brought the war vividly to life, right in her backyard. She could tell that the vicar saw her fear, too.
“I’m sorry, Miss Clarkson. Have I been too blunt? My wife often accuses me of it.”
“Not at all. I did ask. Please, go on.”
“Many of the villagers qualify for the free bomb shelters the government provides, but there’s always a mountain of paperwork involved with these endeavors, and we could use help sorting through the government red tape. We also lack the manpower to get the shelters dug with so few men remaining behind. It’s vitally important to ensure that everyone has access to a safe shelter when the invasion comes.”
Audrey nodded, feeling numb. Father had refused to provide an Anderson shelter for their servants, but perhaps she should look into it while he was away. A few holes in the back garden would be well worth saving their lives.
“Then there’s the Women’s Voluntary Service,” he added. “They’re preparing to help out in almost any home-front situation one can imagine. In fact, they’re meeting in the village hall at this very moment, if you’d like to listen in.”
“Yes, please. I would.” She stood, and they walked to the village hall together, the vicar wheeling her bicycle for her. “What about helping at church?” she asked. “I would like to convey my gratitude to God by helping to serve there in some way.”
He studied her for a long moment and she wondered if he was scrutinizing her motives. Or was she being overly sensitive? “My wife leads a prayer group every evening before curfew,” he finally said. “You’re welcome to join us anytime. Right now, and for the immediate future, I believe that the work of Christ’s church will be exactly those things I have just outlined. It’s more important than ever that we serve as the hands and feet of Christ in every way we can during these troubling times.”
They stopped outside the door to the village hall, which stood open. The murmur of women’s voices drifted outside. The vicar paused before saying, “I hope you won’t feel offended, Miss Clarkson, if the villagers seem a bit cool at first. I suspect there is some resentment toward your family for seeming to ignore the village’s needs all these years. Once they see that you would like that to change, I’m certain they’ll welcome you and your efforts. But please don’t be put off until they do.”
Audrey drew a steadying breath, determined to be useful instead of hiding in Wellingford Hall for the duration of the war. “I’m grateful for the warning. I know my family’s faults as well as the villagers do, and I shall try to be thick-skinned.”
They slipped inside and sat down in the back row, listening as a middle-aged woman in a tweed skirt and cardigan described plans to help a village family whose son had died on one of the rescue ships that sank near Dunkirk. She followed with the story of a young wife and mother whose husband was taken prisoner in France. Two other women from the village struggled to cope alone with their husbands away. In every instance, women from the group pledged their help and support. Eve Dawson grew up in this village and likely knew all of these families, people who had helped Eve and her mother after her father died in the first war. Audrey longed to stand up and apologize to all of them for her family’s long indifference. Instead, she turned to the vicar and asked, “Where is God in all these tragedies? Why does He allow evil to triumph and cause such suffering?”
Rev. Hamlin sighed. “Much wiser men than I have tried to answer that question. One can only hope that when all is said and done, God will use this war to draw us closer to Him and make us better people. I fear, however, that it may have the opposite effect in many cases.”
Audrey thought it an odd thing to say. There was so much she didn’t understand about God. In fact, she barely knew where or how to begin to understand Him. She stood. “I’ll be back,” she promised, then went outside and climbed onto her bike for the mile-long ride home to Wellingford.
She was within sight of the manor house when she heard the roar of an airplane approaching from the south, flying lower than usual. She braked and looked up, shielding her eyes, straining to see the insignia on the fuselage and wings, dreading the sight of a Nazi plane. The roaring engine grew louder, closer. Her heart pounded as she recalled the vicar’s ominous words about an invasion of paratroopers.
The plane came into view at last, just above the woods, the engine stuttering now. A plume of dark smoke trailed behind. Audrey spotted the bull’s-eye emblem on the RAF Spitfire and could breathe again. But the plane flew much too low, barely skimming the chimney tops as it soared over Wellingford Hall. It was going to crash on the lawn. Audrey leaped onto her bicycle and pedaled as hard as she could toward home, as if she could do something if she got there in time, as if she could prevent the stricken plane from crashing.