Читать книгу Sand In My Shoes: Coming of Age in the Second World War: A WAAF’s Diary - Joan Rice - Страница 10

I am sitting on Betty's¹ bed (a Shell colleague, now living with my parents). Opposite on my own is a pile of belongings and a far too small suitcase. Herewith the events leading up to my last day at home (excuse legal phrasing but I have just returned from making my will). I look at my packing and have the same sick and ‘wish I hadn't done it’ feeling in my tummy that was there on going back to the convent (boarding school) evenings. Only tonight have I realised that I'm going into this new unknown living. Even at Bunty's² (a school friend with whom I had been staying), when she and her mother made up absurd adventures about me in the Air Force which ended with me dropping from the air onto a submarine, and much laughter in which I joined, it was impossibly far away. Even when Mother phoned and said I was to go on Monday it was still impossible to happen. Now it is my last night at home and no one but you must know how I feel or I's probably cry. Because of that it's going to be good for me. I've got to be adult. I've got to be self-assured. I've got to be able to go anywhere and not be shy. At least I'll have you with me.