AFS Driver

I picked up the damaged hose and stood waiting for him. Just before he reached me there was a wind-blown shower of burning droplets of pitch from a flat roof. They covered my head and shoulders. He and I put them out by beating with our gloved hands but my uniform jacket was holed in many places and my trousers were scorched by droplets that had run down the outside of the legs.

"Fucking Hell!" I shouted, surprising him because I didn't usually swear.

"Why, Albert?" He asked. I knew that he was asking why I had sworn.

"This uniform was only a few hours old and is, no WAS, the only respectable clothing I had. How can I go to work on Tuesday? I can't wear this now. I don't get a new suit until at least Wednesday."

"But you're not hurt, are you?" He asked.

"No. I'm not, just hopping mad."

"OK, but turn the water back on. We need it."

We went back to the trailer pump and turned the pressure back on for that line. He went back to the fire engine and I stood there, cursing to myself, until three am when our AFS unit was relieved.

I undressed myself slowly and carefully, dropped the ruined uniform in a heap on the bedroom floor, and crawled into bed beside a faintly snoring Mary.

+++

I woke up at ten am to see Mary hanging the remains of my uniform up on a hanger.

"Are you OK, Albert?" She asked.

"Yes, but the uniform isn't," I said.

"I can see that. I thought you were supposed to be just a driver, nowhere near the fire."

"But the fire and wind doesn't know that. Mary. Some flaming tar droplets showered over me..."

"So I can see. But none on your skin?"

"No. They just wrecked the uniform, the only respectable clothing I had. Now? What do I wear for work tomorrow?"

"You could ask the tailor. Which reminds me. You had a postcard in the first post today. The GPO telephone engineers are coming at noon today to install a telephone in the air raid shelter."

"So soon? Good? I can ring the tailor to find out when my suit will be ready but he didn't expect it until Wednesday at the earliest. But I'd better get dressed."

"Can you do that yourself, or do you need my help, Albert?"

"I can dress myself if I'm slow and careful, Mary."

"OK. Breakfast will be ready in a quarter of an hour. See you."

When I was dressed I looked sorrowfully in the mirror. Unlike last night's respectability I looked like a tramp again. I sighed.

After breakfast we did some more sorting until the telephone engineers arrived. We kept them provided with tea as it was a more complex job than they had expected. They had to install a short telegraph pole in my garden before they could string the wire and then chisel around my armoured air raid shelter door to put in an armoured gas-proof tube before feeding the wire inside. It was nearly three o'clock by the time they had finished.

My first telephone call was to the tailor. He was apologetic. The suit wouldn't arrive until Thursday at the earliest. He didn't say 'Don't you know there's a war on?' but the implication was obvious.

We returned to more sorting and were nearly at the back of the heap. Mary found a large suitcase labelled 'Andrew'. I was adding more items to the heap for Olive when Mary opened it.

"Albert!" Mary called. "What size was your son Andrew?"

"About my height or half an inch taller," I yelled back. "Why?"

I walked back into the storeroom.

"I've just found a suitcase full of Andrew's clothes," Mary said. "Suits, shirts..."

"Oh shit. I'd forgotten them. I had put them in the storeroom when Andrew enlisted in 1938, just after Munich," I said. "He didn't want to take them when he would spend most of his time in uniform. What have we got?"

Mary opened the large suitcase fully and pulled out the contents.

"Three suits, four shirts, vests underpants, socks, shoes, two pairs of pyjamas and other things."

"In fact, a complete gentleman's wardrobe and one that will fit me," I said, sorting out the contents. "That is a relief. I can go to work tomorrow looking respectable."

"And this suit looks expensive," Mary said, holding it up.

"It is. I bought it for his 21st birthday. It came from Savile Row and cost the earth. It took two months for him to be fitted for it. It won't fit me quite as well as it did him but any of his suits would be near enough. That is a great relief. I've got clothes even before my new suit is finished."

"Won't you feel awkward wearing Andrew's clothes, Albert?"

"No. He used to borrow mine. In fact the evening suit that was in the trunk in the loft was worn by him last for an event he went to. I'll think of the clothes as a posthumous gift to his father who would be naked without them."

"OK. I'll hang them up and press one suit for you to wear tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mary. Oh shit! Tomorrow's OK but tonight as an AFS driver?"

"I don't think you should wear one of Andrew's suits. You might look odd, but no one except your colleagues will see you if you wear the remains of your AFS uniform."

"You're right, Mary. It will remind the AFS commander that I need a new uniform -- again."

After lunch I went to bed in the air raid shelter's bedroom. Mary woke me up for the evening meal at 9 pm. I dressed myself carefully in the ruined AFS uniform. By 10 pm I and the trailer pump were in position by the docks in the East End. The AFS commander brought me a new uniform.

"Albert, you are supposed to be a driver, not a fire fighter." He said. "This is the last uniform in your size in our stores. I have asked them to order some more but please stay away from the fires."

"I'll try, sir," I said, "But the bombs and fires don't seem to know I'm only a driver."

He laughed.

I put the new uniform on the back seat of my car. I couldn't change in the street. That night we were busy again but no fire embers came anywhere near me. We were relieved at 3 am. By 3.30 I was back in my air raid shelter. Quietly I hung up my new uniform and undressed before joining a gently snoring Mary in bed.

On Tuesday morning she made breakfast before helping me to get dressed in one of Andrew's suits. We walked to the factory hand in hand. I was surprised that all the women working for me insisted on kissing and hugging me before I could start work. Mary had said they loved me, I hadn't believed her but apparently they wanted to show that they did. I was pleased to be back at work and properly dressed.

That evening I went back to bed before eating a Mary cooked dinner and starting work as an AFS driver again, this time in a pristine uniform. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were still busy as the Luftwaffe rained bombs down on the docks but I just kept tending the trailer pump while my younger colleagues took the real risks.

On Thursday night I went to bed, naked next to a naked Mary. I didn't sleep for some time because Mary insisted on riding me first. WE had decided that sharing a bed naked was much more attractive than wearing night clothes. Even when Mary was asleep, her body was pressed against mine. That was a comforting feeling.

+++

Over the next few weeks, as my bruises faded, I was able to take a more active role in our lovemaking but I couldn't match Mary's stamina. That wasn't surprising. She is decades younger than me but she seems happy with whatever I can do. Every night that I'm not being an AFS driver Mary wants to make love and I'm enjoying it. I know Olive wants me too, but a naked Mary is more than enough for an aged Albert.

Maybe, after the war, if we survive it, we might marry, but until then two naked bodies in bed show how much we love each other.

+++

Author's Note: Albert's air raid shelter was based on one attached to a house my relations bought in the 1980s. It had been built with the house in 1937. It had access from a terrace in the garden and from the house's basement. By the 1980s the only change made from when it was built was that the electricity for lighting and ventilation was from the mains, and the chemical toilet in the shower room had been replaced by a flush toilet. My relations' grandchildren loved it.