Chapter 2

After the concerted effort of Friday, it was with a sense of dread that I answered my mobile, seeing Andrew as the caller.

“Carol here.”

“Carol, it’s Andrew and thank you for organising the photos. I rang the photographer, and he told me that it was a pleasure to see you through his lens. I’ve shown the pictures to management, and they’ve decided to use one in reception. With your application, I’ll email you the form again. If you fill it in with your new name and on-air experience, I’ll use that for the records.”

“So, you do still want me?”

“Carol, just hearing your voice sends shivers up my spine. Of course, I want you here and raising our ratings. Tell me, can you DJ properly, say in a hall?”

“I have done that with my other show, with modern music. I haven’t done the scratch stuff, too much respect for the vinyl.”

“Right. I’ll keep in touch. I’ll see if I can get somewhere to stay within walking distance of the studio. Do you mind living with an older couple? They had a son, and his room is vacant.”

“That’s all right. As long as the rent is within my budget and salary.”

I spent the weekend with a smile on my face. The move was still on. Over the two days, I was in constant training on how to live in my new persona. Sunday morning, Mum and I dressed well and joined Dad at the golf club for lunch

Monday morning, the doctor rang to tell me that I was to arrive at the hospital on Tuesday morning, having fasted since midnight, for my ‘little problem’ to be removed. I would be home on Thursday afternoon. In the seven days since I saw her, my world had been turned upside down.

Thursday afternoon, Mum picked me up from the hospital and took me home. I would need to go back the next week to have stitches removed and to be checked over, but for now I was a eunuch in a skirt. I had to count myself lucky in that nothing cancerous had been discovered. I had been given big injections of hormones and a prescription for ongoing tablets.

On Friday afternoon, Dad gave me an envelope, officially marking my termination from the company. It included a nice reference and a cheque with my accrued holiday and entitlement wages. When I banked it, next week, I would be quite well off. I hadn’t spent big since I left school, having saved my money since starting to help out in the company in my early teens. I was listed as a partner in the company, with twenty-five percent of the stock, and that had added nice bonuses every year. About the biggest expense since leaving school had been my little runabout, which hadn’t cost a lot. Come to think of that, I’d been told that I’d bought a girls’ car. Maybe I knew, deep inside, that it would be perfect.

Over the next week, I tidied up my business, bought a case for my clothes and did more shopping with Mum, mainly for shoes and accessories. Towards the end of the week, Andrew rang to tell me that he had organised my room and wondered if I could go to Mildenhall on the weekend, where I would be settled in. He told me that my pay would start from the Monday, and I would spend a few days in the studio to get up to speed with the equipment and meet the rest of the crew. I agreed to get there on Saturday, ready to work. Mum was teary when I told her, telling me that the last week or so with her new daughter had been good, and to keep in touch.

On Friday, I loaded the car with all the extras, my laptop, mini-music system and a box of my CDs. I ended up having to get another case, having seriously underestimated the amount of stuff I now needed to maintain this female person.

On Saturday morning, I drove north to Mildenhall. It was only around forty miles by road, but a world away when it came to size. I was out, in my car, driving carefully as Carol Novak, the new girl on the air. I was feeling good, I was feeling confident, as Mum had drilled me in every situation I was likely to meet, including how to fend boys off. That was something that I never thought I’d need until we were out for a farewell dinner and a lad tried to chat me up while I was returning to our table after visiting the toilet.

When I arrived in Mildenhall, I had directions that Andrew had given me. Coming off the A11 and onto Bury Road, I found High Street, which became Mill Street. I drove past the studio and then saw the alley to the right that I wanted. The place I wanted was set off the road, in what looked like a hodgepodge of old and modern homes. There was parking beside the house, so I locked the car and went to knock on the door.

I heard someone call ‘coming’ and then it was opened by a cheerful looking man.

“Hello. I’m Carol Novak and Andrew told me that he’d organised me to stay with you for a while.”

“Hello. I’m Jaunty and my wife is Maude. Andrew is our son-in-law. Our daughter went to work at the radio station, and they ended up getting married. There’s more to that story for another time. Now. Come on in and we’ll have a chat before we get your things in.”

He led me through to the kitchen, where Maude was sitting. Straightaway, I saw that she was crippled, so I went over to her to give her a hug.

“Hello, Maude. I’m Carol Novak. I believe that there’s space for me for a while.”

“As long as you like, Carol. The arrangement is a little different. We have renovated the lounge into our bedroom, with an ensuite. You have the run of upstairs. There’s two bedrooms, with one set up as a dressing room and lounge. You’ll have your own bathroom. As you can see, I can’t go up there any longer, so you’ll have to do your own cleaning. I’ll get Jaunty to do the sheets once a fortnight, but otherwise, we can come to an agreement with the washing machine. Now, tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Excellent! We’ll get along fine. Jaunty makes it, so just you sit down and tell me about yourself.”

So, I sat down, and we talked. We talked through some sandwiches and into the afternoon. In the course of the conversation, I found out that Andrews’ wife was once their son, Christopher, now Christine and blissfully happy. Andrew had warned them of my own slight problem, so there were no secrets to stand between us. When I went upstairs to look at the rooms, I was extremely happy. The bedroom had been repainted to suit a girl, and there was a big vanity. The other room had a couple of hanging racks and a comfy chair, as well as a cupboard next to a power outlet which would work for both my laptop and mini-music unit. The bathroom was full size and needed a bit of a wipe over, and there was a cupboard with extra linen and cleaning supplies.

I went back outside and started pulling my things in, with Jaunty helping by carrying the laptop as far as the stairs. I took everything up and hung my clothes, filled the drawers and added my cosmetics to the vanity. I found a duster among the cleaning things and went through the three rooms with it.

When I went downstairs, I went back into the kitchen.

“Maude, Andrew told me that this was B&B. What’s around where I can eat. More importantly, what’s around where I can take you nice people out for a meal?”

“If you’re buying, there’s a nice pizza place not far away with wheelchair access. We don’t get out a lot, so that would be lovely.”

We loaded her into my car, with Jaunty in the front and her wheelchair folded in the back, and I was directed up the street to Pappa Johns’, where we unloaded Maude and her chair. Then Jaunty directed me to where I could park, just a little way back the way we had come, in Market Place.

The pizza shop was good, the prices reasonable and the small Garden Party was big enough for me. I was introduced to the owner as the new girl at the radio station, and was photographed next to him, by the counter, as a one-up for him to brag to his friends. I received my first genuine loyalty card in my name.

That night, I slept in the new bed, snug and warm, with the warmth of my reception here making me smile. For some odd reason, I had been more outgoing with strangers than I had ever been before. Perhaps, it would help me get settled here.

After a cooked breakfast, followed by washing up, Andrew and his wife, Christine, arrived. I was put in the front seat of their car, with Christine driving, and was taken on a tour of the town. The town was odd, in a way, with you seemingly heading into the country before rolling into another part of it.

We stopped in the industrial area at the Angels’ Café, being an area where we had several backers of the station. Then we went a little way further north to Lakenheath. Andrew was giving me information as we drove.

“You don’t have access to the bases. That’s a few hoops to jump through and depends on how quickly you’re accepted on the radio. Then, you can expect to get invitations to visit. They do have dances on the bases, and we’re sometimes asked to supply DJ services. There’s another base further north, Feltwell, but that’s mainly comms and admin, there’s no strip.”

During the day, I became friends with the two of them. Andrew would be my producer when I did evening shifts, while Christine was in reception. At the end of the tour, she dropped me and Andrew at the station so he could show me around. It wasn’t as big as I had hoped, but it had the means to broadcast around the clock. As I was shown everything, I realised that it was a very slick operation. There were no management there on a Sunday, so I met the desk operator on air, and he grinned, showed me a seat and put a set of headphones on me. In a break between songs, he introduced me to the listeners and asked me about myself.

I said that my main audience, up to now, had been hospital patients, and he slid a schedule under my nose for my first week, so I was able to tell them when I would be on, and the sort of music I’d be playing. As I was speaking, Andrew put an album in front of me, so I pointed out Anything Goes. Mark, the operator, cued it up and stood aside for me to announce my signature tune, and the name of my show. I smiled as I announced that I’d be with them in a week, with my show of show tunes and other greats. As the track was playing, Mark gave me a hug.

“You’re going to slay them in the aisles, Carol. That was smooth and professional, and off the cuff, too!”

He went back to his work, and Andrew walked along the street with me.

“Tomorrow, you should be at work for nine. There will be an official welcome from the boss, unveiling your picture in reception, and then you’ll be escorted around town again, this time meeting all the main sponsors. Look good and be friendly and they’ll all love you. What you’ve done today was recorded and will be broadcast every couple of hours during the week. When all the hoo-ha is over, we’ll get you to study our music collection for you to plan your first few shows. You’re on air twice a day with two-hour sessions. By that time, you’ll be part of the team.”

“Thank you for today, Andrew. It’s been interesting and I feel almost at home, already. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I went up the lane, made sure that my car was locked, and let myself in with the key I’d been given. After I had freshened up, I let myself out again and walked up the road, past the studio, and went into the Indian Restaurant. I was given a seat at a small table and ordered something only mildly spicey for my dinner. The waiter looked hard at me.

“Didn’t I hear your voice on the radio, today?”

“Yes, I was on for a few minutes. I’ll be starting my schedule from Monday week.”

“When I come back with your meal, the chef will want a selfie with you. Will that be all right?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly all right.”

The meal was spicey, but tasty, and the selfie was duly taken. I was constantly surprised by the welcome I was getting. I slept well and had the alarm on to give me time for the morning regime, then breakfast, teeth clean and a short walk to work.

The morning was busy. The boss was nice, the paperwork was completed, and I was given a packet of new business cards, an ID that had been laminated with one of the three pictures on it, the same as the one that had been unveiled in front of a reporter from the East Anglian. We had lunch and then the afternoon was me with the boss, visiting local sponsors and advertisers of the station. It was tiring but I had a lot of fun, more hugs than my favourite teddy bear, and not a few kissed cheeks. They had all heard the promo during the morning and were looking forward to the show. I figured out, quite early in the afternoon, that there was a bit of a deal to be struck to be the main sponsor of Anything Goes. I was told that I may be travelling to other sponsors in the wider broadcast area at a later date.

Monday evening, in bed, I thought about the day and how I, as Carol, had been welcomed. Then, I was visited by self-doubt. It all seemed so contrived and a bit off. On Tuesday, at breakfast, I voiced my unease. Maude smiled.

“I win, Jaunty, dear. The girl is quick. Yes, Carol, there are deeper waters out there. The thing is that the guy who told the station about you and your show is one of the RAF liaison officers who organise events at Lakenheath and Mildenhall. While the station covers a wide area, there are closed systems inside the two main bases with shows brought in from the US by air. That means that the bases, on the whole, don’t listen to the station.”

“OK.”

“Now, if they aren’t listening, they’re not hearing the advertising of local businesses. Your show may be what they want to hear. If it gets bought and replayed in the piped system, then the station and the local traders get a toehold on a large group of very well-paid men and women who are a long way from home. At the moment, they have everything flown in, from toilet paper to tiaras. Just ten percent of that business venturing outside the base is a big win. We’ve had our kids sitting here trying to figure out a way to get played on the bases. If you can open up the door, then you’ll have a job for as long as you like.”

“Oh, lovely. No pressure.”

“Look, Carol. Just do your best on air. You’ve already got one friend in Lakenheath, even if you’ve never met. Andrew had played us a recording of one of your shows, and it was a lovely hour. We would have danced if I still could. Don’t let this bother you. Go along with things and see where the dice finish rolling.”

I helped tidy up, got ready and walked the short distance along the road. What I had been told fitted with some of the things that Andrew and Christine had said on Sunday. If all they wanted was some more listeners, then that’s what I’ll try to give them. It was really no different from the national stations vying for top dog in the morning or drive home spots. It may well be good to develop strategy here, before I move on to a national. Well, a girl can dream.

That day was spent in the second booth, recording two, two-hour shows that could be kept as insurance against drastic damage. That achieved a number of things. I was able to search the actual discs, tapes and CDs held in the library and cross-listed by artist and writer. Secondly, it allowed me to use all the desk settings to get used to the system. Thirdly, for the first time, I was exposed to the vast library of music that was available through the internet, in a format that allowed me to fit it seamlessly into the show. This included rare, live performances that had all the atmosphere of the times. I was so engrossed, I missed getting lunch and Andrew had to tell me to stop when he came in to prepare for the evening shows.

Before I left, I picked up a copy of my next week schedule to look at more carefully. I saw that I was on air twice a day, weekdays and Saturday, with a recorded show going out on Sunday. I was taking a session between two and four, with the second between eight and ten. I decided to mix it up a bit. If we wanted the bases to listen, then the show tunes were one thing, but big band swing was something else and notably part of American history as well. After a meal out, I sat on my bed with the laptop, locked into the house network, and made lists of the best of the big bands, from Count Basie to Woody Herman.

On Wednesday, I repeated the previous day, but with big band tunes. I already had a signature tune, ‘Take The A Train’, and had worked out a welcoming segment. There was a lot of material to choose from. One of the things that was so much different for me was having to get there at nine to plan the two shows, so that, when I was live, I had the order at my fingertips. The other thing was including adverts from the computer inventory. I would get a list before each show.

On Thursday, I tried to get ahead of the game by planning out my shows next week, so that I knew what tracks I would need to get the discs for. As I was doing that, I realised that there were a lot of the required songs from the computer, but I noted the ones where discs or CDs were available, in case of internet failure. On Friday, Mark and I worked as a double act, with the two of us on air from noon until four. He had his list, and I had one of my own.

It was a momentous day for me, on air over much of East Anglia for the first time. We swapped twenty-minute segments, and I had real-time experience with inserting the adverts and reading out weather and traffic reports from our screen. Neither of us completed our planned list, as we were getting call-ins that Christine started to route to us from about three. It was strange to be talking to callers while on-air, learning how to cut things short if they went on too long.

When we handed over, Mark gave me a hug and a smile.

“That was an interesting show. If all the callers keep coming in, you may be asked to do a morning chat show. Do you like Indian food?”

“If you’re talking about the one over the road, I’ve eaten there, and it was good.”

“Dinner with me, my treat, and then I’ll go home to the wife.”

On our way out, Christine was getting ready to leave. She passed me a note.

“Looks like you’ve already caused a storm, Carol. Group Captain Allardyce is going to be coming by at ten. He wants to give you a guided tour of the bases. Wear jeans, as he’s sending a jeep.”

We walked across the road and found seats at a table. We had both ordered before Mark spoke.

“You certainly struck a chord with the Group Captain. He was the one who advised us of your talent. I’m glad he did, if today is an indication. The boss is going to be happy.”

“Mark, I’m aware of the situation, and understand the consequences. I found all the adoration on Monday to be too much over the top and asked a few questions. I’m here to put on my shows, and that’s all, unless I get dragged into the mix. I’ll act as if this is all new to me, and just, as I’ve been told, go with the flow.”

He grinned and raised his water glass to me. I picked mine up and we clinked.

“To you, Carol. May your innocence keep you safe.”

We had a nice meal and Mark insisted on paying. I told him that I’d reciprocate when I got paid. When I got home, Maude called me into the kitchen.

“Welcome home, angel of the airwaves. I had the radio on all afternoon, and it was a wonderful show. I had to ring a few of my old friends to tell them not to waffle when they’re on air.”

“They were all right, Maude. It was different for me, as my previous show was piped to patients in hospital, and I’ve never had to deal with call-ins before. Mark was great in teaching me some tricks to handle them, short of just switching them off. I’m going to get picked up, tomorrow, by jeep for a tour of the bases. I’ve been invited by the Group Captain who heard me in hospital.”

“That’s going to make a few happy.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“Wear jeans or slacks. Those jeeps are difficult to get in or out of in a skirt.”

“Christine already gave me that advice.”

On Saturday morning, I took a lot of care getting ready, had breakfast and double checked before going downstairs. It was a cooler day, and I was wearing a denim set of jeans and jacket for the first time. I waited at the station for a couple of minutes before a jeep came down the road. When it pulled up beside me, a very handsome, older man in uniform hopped out with practiced ease and put his hand out to shake.

“Carol, it’s such a pleasure to meet you in person. That show of yours was a great pick-me-up while I was in hospital. I’ve heard a lot of that style of music over the years, what with working with our USAF friends. Hop in and we’ll show you the sights.”

We were both in the back and he told the driver to go ‘to the Lake’. As the driver turned around in Aldrich Place, I told him that this would be where I was to be dropped off, later. On the way, the Group Captain told me about his role at the base. He was one of the links between the two countries. The base was nominally an RAF site, with the bulk of the operations carried out by USAF units. He would organise shows and be the one to book local acts, while his counterpart would ship in American artists, who never left the base.

On the way, he gave me a quick history lesson of the two bases being important in the Second World War as bomber bases, with both British squadrons and American ones, one flying Halifax, Wellington and Lancasters, the other mainly B17’s and Liberators. In the Cold War, the main planes had been B29’s.

“There were others here that came and went. We had Phantoms for a while, and a flight of F100 Super Sabres, one of which is our Gate Guardian.”

Marianne Gregory © 2026