The Adventures of the Spitfire Patrol

Night at the Non-Camp

If any of the Hedgely Gate residents had gazed across the village green at around midday on a certain April afternoon, they would have seen a rather pathetic-looking sight.
It was blustery out, to say the least, and Katy Kennedy was trying to put up a ridgepole tent alone; the wind was not helping and snatched at the canvas every chance it got. Eventually, she wrestled it to the ground and pinned it down with several chunky wooden pegs.
This was no small victory for Katy who was notoriously bad at pitching tents and hadn't expected to succeed. She ought to have waited until two o'clock- that's when the camp was due to begin, but she had little else to do that day and didn't feel like waiting around until the rest of her patrol was free.

It must be noted that camping on the village green was not normal for the Spitfire Patrol. It was the first time they had ever done it, and if they could have gone anywhere else they would have.
The problem lay in petrol rationing, which was only getting worse, and restricting their travel opportunities. Of course, they could have taken their bicycles, but then several of the girls would have been left behind because they didn't know how to ride them.
This was all compounded by an air raid that occurred during the previous week in another village just eight miles from Hedgely Gate, and which frightened all the parents so badly they preferred to keep their children as close as possible.
The girls had toyed with the idea of pitching their tent in Katy's back garden since there was plenty of space and she had no siblings to disturb them. It might have worked, were it not for Katy's father and his concerns about the lawn; the last thing he wanted was for it to turn into a bog, or for his flower beds to be trampled on, so that idea was quashed.
Eventually, some bright spark had suggested they use the village green and after some assurances to the local council that they would take good care of the area, it was agreed they could go ahead.
To the girl's surprise, campfires were permitted (during the day), but the line was drawn at digging trenches for latrines and air raids.
Thankfully, Alison's house overlooked the village green and her parents were more than happy to lend the girls both their outhouse and Anderson shelter.

Promptly at two o'clock, Katy heard the sound of squeaky cartwheels rolling over soft grass and stuck her head out of the tent to find Olave and Daisy only a few yards away. They each had neat little bedding rolls tied to their backs and brown paper lunch bags in their hands. Olave dragged the trusty old red cart behind her. It was filled to the brim with pots and pans and various cooking utensils that rattled around and threatened to jump overboard every time the cart lurched over an uneven surface.
"Are we the first to arrive?" Olave sounded surprised, "It's usually Violet."
"Well, today it was me," Katy said, getting to her feet, "Rare, I know, but there wasn't much competition. Half of you have been at school, Alison is babysitting, and Violet's Aunt Isabelle is visiting and she can't get out of it."
Olave and Daisy groaned. Violet's Aunt Isabelle was infamous to the Spitfire Patrol for having made her views on Girlguiding quite clear the last time she visited.
"What about Anne?" Daisy asked, "Is she not joining us?"
Katy shook her head, "She suffers dreadfully from hay fever, I've never seen a case like it."

Katy had done very little in the two hours she had waited for the other girls to arrive, aside from putting up the tent and laying the ground sheet. She had allowed herself a little rest, promising in good faith to start working again after half an hour of reading, but had fallen asleep before making it through the chapter she was on.
Now, it was all hands on deck again, unravelling bedding rolls and getting up a campfire to welcome the rest of the party when they arrived. The wind whipped up the flames into a frenzy and the girls, too paranoid to leave the fire unattended for even a second, gathered around with tin mugs of tea and discussed the evening's activities.
Katy thought a wide game of some sort might be fun, though they would have to be sensible and respectful of their surroundings.
"That'll put a damper on it!" Olave groaned, "I like it much better to be in the middle of nowhere miles from anyone, where we can make as much racket as we please. I suppose singing is also out?"
Katy shook her head, "I don't see any reason why we can't have a little sing," she said, "But we had better stick to the nice respectful songs and not give anyone the wrong impression."
"I think we should tell ghost stories!" Daisy grinned wickedly, "I've saved up some real good ones."
"Oh, yes, we have to do ghost stories!" Olave concurred, "Anne isn't with us this time so I doubt anyone will cry."
"Yes, I did feel sort of responsible for that," Katy said, hanging her head.
"Why?" Daisy asked, "It was Janie's story that set her off."
"I know, but it was my idea to jump out at her when she got up to go to the loo... Look out! Here comes Betty!"
Sure enough, Betty came bounding across the green in great strides with her two red plaits flying out behind her. She had one hand on the back of her hat, clamping it to her head even as the wind tried to rip it away. Over her shoulders, she had slung an alarmingly loose bedding roll.
"Am I late?" She asked breathlessly.
"Yes." Olave replied, as blunt as you like, "You were supposed to meet Daisy and I outside her house an hour ago, what kept you?"
"Oh, just about everything! First, my bootlaces broke so I had to replace them; then my bedding roll just would not do as it was told; then, as I was walking up the front path, my hat blew away and I had to run for a good five minutes before I caught it!" She stopped and looked about her all of a sudden, "I say, it does sort of feel like we're in a fishbowl here, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we're surrounded, aren't we? There are houses on every side of us and lots of windows for nosy people to spy on what we're up to. It's not at all what we're used to- it's not a normal camp!"
"It's a non-camp," Katy replied solemnly, "Since we can't have a real one just now, this will have to do, but I know what you mean. We're so used to being in our own little world, just us and the sky. It felt awkward pitching on a busy village green. I mean look, there's children over there flying kites!"
So there were, about a dozen of them, running two and fro with homemade kites of all shapes and sizes swooping and diving in the air above them.
"It does feel a bit like we're on display," Daisy muttered, "I'm not so keen on that."