Squadron Officer Mulligan didn’t answer. She just gestured to a seat without looking up. Bobby sat down.
There was silence. Bobby wondered what she was supposed to do.
‘The doctor said I was to give this to you,’ she said, remembering the form in her hand.
Again, there was no answer. Squadron Officer Mulligan waved vaguely to the WAAF at her side, who seemed to be fluent in this type of communication. She took the form from Bobby, glanced at it, then scribbled something in shorthand. Bobby tried to make out the squiggles upside down.Roberta Bancroft. A1, passed for immediate enrolment, it said.
‘You can read this?’
Bobby jumped. Squadron Officer Mulligan had finally deigned to pay attention to her and had clearly caught her studying what was presumably supposed to be confidential.
‘Um, yes,’ Bobby said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy, it just… caught my eye.’
‘Roberta Bancroft,’ the officer read from her clipboard. ‘Studied at Pitman’s. What shorthand speed?’
Bobby felt even dizzier than she had when she entered. The military seemed to operate without time to waste, or even to draw breath.
‘A hundred and fifty words per minute,’ she said, not without a trace of pride. The NCO making notes looked up to give her an impressed nod.
‘Typing?’
‘Eighty words per minute.’
‘Shorthand typing as well?’
‘Yes, although it’s been a little while since I was called on to do any.’
‘And do you play an instrument?’
Bobby blinked. ‘As in, a musical instrument?’
‘Yes. A cornet or euphonium, ideally.’
Bobby had no idea what the significance of this was, or if it was something all WAAFs were expected to do, but it had been such a bizarre afternoon that she no longer had the capacity to feel surprise.
‘Um, no,’ she said.
‘Pity,’ the officer murmured as she struck through something on her clipboard. ‘They’re desperate for cornets in the WAAF band at Debden. Still, we can certainly use you in administration. You can expect to be summoned back here for enrolment within the next week, then it’s likely you’ll be placed on deferred service until we can find a spot for you at a training school – perhaps for several months. There aren’t nearly enough places to accommodate every new WAAF. I don’t think there’s a bed left at West Drayton or Wilmslow, and Harrogate’s bursting at the seams.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘This is what happens when you have a government filled with men – no thought forthe practicalities. They expect all these girls they’re conscripting to sleep dangling from the rafters like bats, I suppose.’
Bobby’s head was fair spinning now. Everyone in this place seemed to take it as read that she understood military procedure, and knew what would happen at each step of the call-up process. She was almost embarrassed to admit just how much of a clueless civilian she was.
Mulligan was ignoring her again. Bobby didn’t know if this meant she was dismissed or not, but she wasn’t going without some information.
‘Excuse me?’
Squadron Officer Mulligan looked up. ‘Yes?’
‘The letter I was sent said I could claim for travel and lost earnings.’
‘Oh, yes, yes,’ Mulligan said with a dismissive motion, as if such petty concerns were beneath her. ‘The girl on the door will give you a form.’
Her attention drifted back to her clipboard, but Bobby wasn’t finished.
‘Can I request to be close to home when I’m posted?’ she asked.
‘You can request it,’ the officer said vaguely. ‘Whether you’ll get it is another matter. Priority goes to married women. But we can note it here as a preference.’
‘Yes, please. And, um… I’m sorry, but the letter did say something about a postponement form?’
