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"Free a man to join the fleet. Burning barnacles. How about me joining the fleet?" Nancy flopped back on her bed and waved the leaflet in the air. Peggy didn't look up from her the grubby piece of paper she was scribbling on.
"Hang on a minute. I can't get this to add up." She wrote down a final number and placed her pencil down. "Let's have a gander then." Peggy studied the creased paper and looked vaguely confused.
"Well it's either that or becoming a Land Girl. You hate being a typist."
Nancy glared at her sister. "That's not the point. I bet I have more sailing experience than half of their recruits and I can't even go to sea properly. I'll be stuck in some back room, filing."
"Then don't volunteer. You don't have to go yet. See what Mother and Uncle Jim says. He's been to sea even though he wasn't a proper sailor."
Nancy threw a pillow at Peggy and she squeaked. "Why do you have to be sensible?"
"I can't tell you to do anything Nancy. You're 21 and I trust you to do the right thing." Molly Blackett scrutinised her eldest daughter. It would have been easier if Nancy had been born a boy. Her passion for sailing wouldn't have seen as so odd.
Nancy hacked off another slice of bread and buttered it. She was quiet as she ate it thoughtfully. "It won't hurt to ask. I can ask about the Land Army at the same time or even the WRAF. I can't go into munitions making horrid guns."
"Ask Uncle Jim to drive you over to the village on Saturday afternoon. I need some more curtain material for the spare room. They may be evacuees but they can have new curtains."
Nancy nodded absently and sipped her tea. She would write to John after church on Sunday and see what he thought. He'd probably be dreadfully busy swotting at university but he would know what to say.
Whistling softly under her breath, Nancy swept the kitchen and listened for the postman. He was usually the first with all the news apart from the native in the store. He strolled up to the door and said cheerily "Morning Miss Blackett. Lovely day?"
He leafed through the letters in his hand. "I've got one for you. Another for Miss Peggy and two for Mrs Blackett. Little Helen what does at the vicarage had a little boy last night. 8 pound six, he was. They're calling him William after his granddaddy."
Nancy opened the envelope and half listened to his stream of gossip. It was from John and was short and to the point.
Can't do much worse, old girl. Daddy says that if the war goes on long enough, you might have a chance to serve on ship.
Chin up. Who knows? We might end up serving on the same ship.
It was that tiny sliver of hope that allowed her to cling to her dream. Being able to go to sea for a living – even for a short while. Serving King and Country was just a means to an end.
Nancy announced it at dinner. Mrs Blackett wasn't surprised and Peggy was only surprised at the length of time it had taken Nancy to decide.
There was a biting wind coming off the Thames and Nancy shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. She wished she had remembered her gloves as she leant on the railings and looked out to sea. Nancy had loathed the first two weeks of training – all scrubbing of floors and peeling potatoes. All in the name of discipline. The only respite was the hope of being chosen to do something interesting. She might even learn to drive. Uncle Jim had let her try driving his car and Nancy had loved it.
After her training had finished, Nancy had been filled with glee when she was chosen to be part of Boats' Crew. She could finally serve on board. She wouldn't be as important as John who had left university to sign up or Susan and Peggy who were both studying nursing in London. But she was doing her bit.
Letters from her mother kept her spirits up during the long hours organising the stores and she desperately wished she had a Mate to help her check off her endless lists. She finally made friends with the other Jennies aboard her ship and Maggie helped to stop her from turning up at roll call with a ladder in her stockings or without her collar. Before lights out they would study maps and naval language and all the small nautical things that Nancy grew up with and never dreamt anyone wouldn't know.
Nancy woke by a hand shaking her. Maggie looked frantic as she moved to wake all the other girls. "Everyone is needed. Dunkirk's gone wrong. All the men are trapped and the destroyers can't get close."
Nancy's face drained of colour and her hands shook as she dressed. She grabbed the gloves that Peggy had knitted, needing something that was familiar and not caring that they weren't uniform. Their commanding officer was barking orders on deck as any seafaring vessel worth its salt was found.
Maggie and Nancy ended up on a small pleasure boat as a skinny boy who looked about fourteen steered it down the Thames towards Ramsgate. Nancy was terrified as she looked out over the edge of the boat in the faint morning light. She looked over at Maggie who was talking at a million miles a second at the boy who would occasionally nod. This wasn't like the adventures she had had as a child. It was suddenly all real and it wasn't a lark any more.
Ramsgate was mayhem and Nancy realised that this wasn't the time to start behaving like a native. She was an Amazon and a Wren and by golly, she would prove she had a bit of backbone. The hours blurred into one another as they went between the destroyers and the shore. They pulled up men who had been standing in the water and just sat there shivering.
None of them said anything about being rescued about being rescued by two girls and a fourteen year old boy. Nancy lost count of the number of cups of tea she handed out and only wished she could do more. By the time she was ordered to bed, Nancy was nearly crying with fatigue. But after a short nap, she argued her way back out onto the waters. She couldn't stay in bed whilst men could be dying on the French beaches.
Days passed with a blur. Leading Wren Jones laid a hand on Nancy's shoulder and said in a low voice, "Ordinary Wren Blackett, last trip. We can't do any more." Nancy looked at her and saluted. They carefully went out and helped as many men aboard as possible. As she pulled the last man aboard, she gasped.
"John?"
The man looked up and despite the lines around his mouth and shadows under his eyes, he managed a smile.
"Good play, old girl. I should have know you would be out here."
Nancy made a space next to her and then placed her coat around his dripping shoulders.
"I'm so glad you're safe." She paused and then tentatively asked, "Was it as bad as it looked?"
John suddenly looked about ten years older. "Worse. But don't tell Mother or the others. They worry enough as it is."
With that, Nancy swallowed hard and then nodded. She slipped her hand into his cold one and held it all the way back to the destroyer. In the noise of the transfer, John said softly, "It was the Swallows and Amazons that kept me going. Thank you Captain."
And with a dazed smile, Nancy replied "That's all right Commodore," and saluted.
A week later, a postcard arrived. It was a snapshot of two small boats on a lake and on the back was John's precise handwriting.
"Will you be my girl, Captain?