by Fiona Ford
‘It’s the same at Jolly’s,’ Mrs Downing said sadly. ‘Mind you, we don’t usually come here, do we, girls? But there’s a special dance on in honour of all the GIs that are here visiting officers at Charmy Down, and Millie’s cousin is married to one of them, so that’s why we’re here.’
At that the band struck up a lively tune Alice recognised as the jive and Millie looked at Doreen pleadingly. ‘Will you dance? I’ve been learning all the steps to this one.’
Her friend rolled her eyes, but Alice could tell she was equally keen to get on the floor. ‘Go on then.’
The girls walked on to the dance floor, which was now swollen with British and American officers and their partners, leaving Alice sitting alongside Mrs Downing. Alice couldn’t help smiling as she watched the Americans twisting, shaking and moving their hips to the unrelenting thud of the beat. It was quite a sight: the well-turned-out Yanks in their smart-fitting uniforms teaching the British steps that they had never heard of. As the Americans moved their bodies effortlessly to the music, the British struggled with the loose fluidity of the steps, but their unrelenting desire to prove themselves willing and above all else polite meant they had a good go at mirroring the Americans’ moves, even if they did look as if they’d rather be at the dentist’s having a tooth out.
As the band stood up to take a bow, the British stood and clapped politely, moving only their hands, whereas by contrast the Americans whooped, whistled and cheered, calling for more.
‘For heaven’s sakes,’ Mrs Downing grumbled. ‘What on earth do they do if they think something’s really good?’
Alice smirked and said nothing. She rather liked the Americans’ overzealous approach, finding it a refreshing change from the traditional stiff upper lip of war-weary Brits. As she joined in to applaud the band, who were now taking a well-earned rest, her eyes strayed to a GI hovering at the corner of the dance floor. There was something familiar about him, but for the life of her she couldn’t work out what. Suddenly the man turned his head and Alice gasped as she recognised him as the GI she’d knocked over earlier.
‘Will you excuse me, Alice dear?’ Mrs Downing asked, getting to her feet. ‘I must just nip to the ladies’.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Alice replied, grateful for the distraction as she stood up to let the woman pass.
As Mrs Downing walked swiftly away, Alice turned back to her drink. Only as she reached out for it, she jumped as she suddenly realised that the man she had just been staring at was now standing at the foot of her table.
Tipping his cap, he beamed at Alice. ‘Hello again.’
‘Hello,’ Alice mumbled, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. ‘How are the bumps and scrapes?’
‘Not too bad, thank you.’ He lifted a glass of dark-coloured liquid. ‘Nothing one of your English pints hasn’t cured.’
Alice smiled at the sing-song lilt of his accent. ‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked, gesturing to her glass.
‘That’s very kind of you but I’ve plenty left in this one,’ Alice said evenly.
The GI nodded. ‘I guess I asked for that,’ he said, giving her a half-smile, before looking at her hopefully once more. ‘Could I sit down?’
‘As long as you’re not too long. My friends will be back very soon,’ Alice replied. She knew she sounded hoity-toity but the truth was his friendliness was making her nervous and when all was said and done she was a married woman.
‘Fair enough.’ He grinned again, holding out his hand for her to shake. ‘I’m Jack Capewell, staff sergeant in the US Army.’
‘Alice Milwood,’ she replied, unable to resist his easy manner. ‘Deputy fabric manager at Liberty’s.’
As Jack shook his head, Alice felt a jolt of happiness at being able to explain all about the shop she loved. ‘It’s a beautiful store that sells all manner of arts and crafts. It was founded by a chap called Arthur Liberty who loved working with artists, designers and architects. Now we sell only the most beautiful of clothes, rugs and homewares in the most beautiful building you’ve ever seen.’
‘Really?’ Jack raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds like one very special department store. I should come pay it a visit.’
‘You should,’ Alice said delightedly, pleased her enthusiasm for Liberty’s had rubbed off on someone else.’
‘I’d have to tell my sister all about it. She loves anything with a bit of glamour,’ Jack said.
‘Sounds just like my sister!’
Jack chinked his glass against Alice’s own. ‘We’ll have to exchange stories, see who got the rawest deal.’
‘I can tell you now, it’ll be me,’ she laughed. ‘So are you stationed in London or Bath?’
‘London,’ Jack replied. ‘Just down for the weekend meeting with your fine British officers. They’re treating us to a night out here in these very fine and elegant rooms.’
‘Me too.’ Alice raised her voice slightly over the roar of approval as the band took to their seats again. ‘I mean, I live in London not Bath. I’m here visiting work colleagues too.’
A smile played on Jack’s lips. ‘We really do have a lot in common. Would you like to tell me all about it over the next dance?’
It was all Alice could do not to giggle at the obviousness of his chat-up line. ‘We’ve a name for lads like you up in London, but I’m too polite to say! What I will say instead is that it’s very kind of you to ask me, but I’m spoken for,’ she finished kindly, gesturing to the plain gold wedding band on her ring finger.
Jack had the good grace to look crestfallen. ‘Ma’am, I am so sorry, I meant no offence.’
‘None taken,’ Alice replied as he stood up. ‘It was nice meeting you.’
‘And you, Mrs Milwood,’ Jack said softly, tipping his cap once more as he left her alone.
Watching his retreating back, Alice ignored the brief stirring she felt in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was the Assembly Rooms, the romantic city of Bath or the fact she was out somewhere new with new people but she suddenly felt very much alive.
Chapter Twelve
Alice couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. After declining Jack’s invitation to waltz the night away she had eventually allowed herself to be propelled on to the dance floor, first by Millie, then Doreen, and even Mrs Downing herself as they danced the foxtrot and an American dance Alice hadn’t heard of before: the jive.
By half past ten she was spent, and Alice begged the girls for mercy, pleading tiredness as they whirled and twirled her around the dance floor. Eventually they gave in and Alice, grateful for the breather, sat down and enjoyed the rest of the port and lemon the girls had given her when she arrived.
Taking a long sip of her drink Alice looked back towards the packed dance floor and found herself astounded at the energy people had. The band was in full swing and the dancers seemingly just getting into their stride while she herself felt ready for bed.
Catching herself yawning Alice placed a quick hand in front of her mouth and felt a pang of guilt, before realising that actually there was no need. She was, after all, a mother with a young baby and a job; it was no surprise she was tired. Mrs Downing had already left half an hour ago, but Alice, determined to show some Liberty spirit, had soldiered on with the other girls. Yet, looking at her watch once more, she knew all she wanted was her bed. Her digs in Laura Place weren’t that far away and she had promised the landlady she would be home well before midnight when the locks would be firmly placed on the door. Pulling her coat on, she saw Doreen and Millie giving a couple of GIs the run-around with their own version of the jive and gave them a wave goodbye.
They would hardly notice she was gone, Alice thought, stifling another yawn as she ventured out into the moonlit night, grateful that it would help guide her home in a strange town. Pausing for just a moment to gaze up at the sky, she felt a sudden chill at the bright light. Alice remembered only too well how she and the rest of London
used to feel sheer terror when the moon was so big and the night so clear, as they knew that would mean only one thing: hours of devastation.
Rounding the corner, Alice felt a sudden urge to get back to her digs as quickly as possible and quickened her pace only to see Jack loitering on the corner, lit cigarette in his right hand.
‘What are you doing out here?’ she asked.
She was rewarded with a grin. ‘I needed some air. All that dancing, while it’s fun ’n’ all, it’s not really my thing. I prefer the quiet life.’
‘Me too,’ Alice admitted. ‘Always have.’
Jack looked at her in surprise. ‘Can I walk you someplace?’
‘Oh, I’m fine, thank you,’ Alice replied quickly.
‘No, really,’ Jack replied. ‘Back where I come from it’s not right to let a woman walk home alone. My mom would beat me black and blue!’
Alice couldn’t help herself and giggled at his accent. There was something so warm and comforting about it; she felt she could listen to it all day.
‘I really shouldn’t,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure my husband would like it.’
‘Ma’am,’ Jack said firmly. ‘If you were my wife and a member of the military offered to walk you home in the dark, I would consider it a personal favour. Now please allow me to escort you.’
‘All right,’ Alice relented. ‘I’m not far away, I’ve digs in the centre.’
‘Well, that’s just perfect,’ he said cheerfully as they strolled companionably along the road. ‘That means I can get back here and nobody will be any the wiser.’
‘Will anybody miss you?’ Alice asked as they walked down the hill, the brilliant moonlight continuing to light the way.
Jack shrugged. ‘Nobody that matters.’
As the pair turned into Broad Street, Alice found herself admiring the architecture once again. The bright moonlight bathed the Bath stone in a light so white and pure it made the buildings seem almost ethereal.
‘It’s a beautiful city, ain’t it?’ Jack remarked, reading her mind.
‘Have you ever been here before?’ Alice asked.
Jack shook his head. ‘Not before today. I’d heard about it back in the States of course.’
‘Really?’ Alice sounded incredulous.
A laugh escaped from Jack’s lips. ‘Your gorgeous cities are famous, even to a farm boy like me. We don’t all think the world begins and ends in America.’
‘I thought all you Americans thought your country was the best in the world,’ Alice teased.
‘You Brits sure as hell say what you mean, don’t you?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,’ Alice replied, feeling embarrassed.
Jack chuckled. ‘And you sure as hell all apologise easy enough.’
Alice paused to round on Jack. ‘And you Yanks go at everything like a bull in a china shop. No doubt you’ll be going at Hitler the same way.’
‘Hey?’ Jack looked at her quizzically, his tanned skin illuminated in the moonlight. ‘What’s all this? I’m only kidding around.’
Alice felt suddenly wrong-footed. She too had only been teasing but she had a feeling it had all come out wrong. Wearily, she ran a hand over her face. She was too tired to fall out with American soldiers tonight, or indeed any other night. All she really wanted to do was go home.
’How about we forget it?’ Jack said charitably, correctly interpreting her feelings once more. ‘It’s late and I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.’
‘Thank you,’ Alice said gratefully. ‘Sorry.’
Jack laughed again as they continued down the hill. ‘You need to stop apologising.’
‘Sorry,’ Alice said automatically before shaking her head despairingly at herself. ‘I’m not going to say another word.’
‘Now that would be kind of a shame,’ Jack said warmly.
Alice was about to tell him off for his cheek when a low eerie strumming sound above caught her attention. ‘Did you hear that?’ she asked, stopping in the middle of the street to cock her ear towards the sky.
‘Hear what?’
Just then two large bangs erupted overhead.
‘That!’ Alice cried, turning her head in time to see a line of flares drop up ahead lighting the city as brightly as if it was daylight.
‘Germans,’ Jack said grimly.
‘Here? They can’t be bombing Bath. It must be Bristol – there’s nothing here worth targeting.’
‘I’m telling you now, it’s the Jerries,’ Jack roared, just as the piercing wail of the air-raid siren sliced through the air.
‘We need to find shelter.’ Alice looked desperately around for anything that might point them in the direction of a public shelter. But the streets seemed eerily empty.
‘Come on.’ Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her down the road.
‘Where are we going?’ Alice cried.
But Jack’s reply was impossible to make out above the low whine of the Luftwaffe, the shape of the raiders now clearly visible overhead.
Of course Alice had been caught in a raid before but this felt different. When the bombs fell in London almost daily, she and the rest of the Liberty girls had become experts at taking refuge and thought nothing of whiling away the time with a good book or some knitting. But now she was a mother; her son already had a father missing. An instinct for survival kicked in as Alice let go of Jack’s hand and charged ahead, pounding down the street in what she hoped was the direction of Laura Place, praying that the digs she was staying in could offer salvation.
‘Alice!’ Jack cried above the din. ‘Wait up!’
But Alice wasn’t waiting for anyone, she was fixated on only one thing: ensuring her son had one parent who remained alive.
Chapter Thirteen
As Alice ran towards Argyle Street, trying to make sense of the chaos around her, she felt as if she was going to be sick. The eerily quiet streets of moments earlier were gone and in their place teams of uniformed volunteers from the Civil Defence League were trying to stop the fires already surging through Bath’s precious buildings from spiralling perilously out of control.
From her position near the River Avon, Alice could see bright orange flames ripping through the heart of houses that had stood for centuries. The sheer heat of the blaze was overwhelming, and she instinctively shielded her face as she heard Jack’s footsteps come to a halt behind her.
‘Are you OK?’ Jack cried.
Alice nodded. ‘You?’
‘Fine, but we need to find shelter now. Alice honey, I’m not sure we can even get to your lodgings.’
‘Then let’s just find shelter where we can.’
At that, the noisy drone of the aircraft roared ominously overhead. Glancing up, Alice was horrified to see the twin-engine Heinkel now flying perilously low along the street, heading in one direction only: straight towards her. As the plane got nearer and nearer Alice tried to move but she couldn’t. It was as though her legs wouldn’t listen to her brain. Instead she found herself mesmerised, gazing at the plane audaciously flying so close to the ground she could make out the face of the pilot.
Heart in her mouth, Alice watched the plane suddenly fire its machine guns at will, aiming for the volunteer fire crew. Like a line of dominoes she saw the firemen fall to the ground. At the sight, Alice felt sick, but no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t take her eyes from the pilot responsible for such destruction. A sudden, indescribable rage filled her very core. And as she looked up at him in the plane, carrying out the orders of the dictator who stood for nothing but evil, she found herself opening her mouth and screaming in fury.
‘Nazi scum!’ she shrieked. ‘You murdering filth!’
But her voice was lost in the wind Alice’s outburst, and as the plane continued along its course, she saw it was now just feet away from her as it neared the fountain at the centre of the street. Alice knew she should get out of the way but she was so consumed with rage for all the pain and suffering these Jerries had caused s
he found she couldn’t move. About to open her mouth and scream again, for her, for Luke, for all the lives that had been taken too soon, she felt a pair of arms grip her firmly around her waist and without warning she was flying through the air only to land with a thud in the doorway of a sports shop on top of Jack. The plane suddenly stopped firing and the drone grew quieter as it flew away.
Once she realised her life was no longer in immediate danger, Alice became acutely aware she was lying face down on top of a man.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she gasped, sitting upright.
‘Entirely my fault,’ Jack replied, sitting bolt upright next to her. ‘You were so busy cursing at the Germans, I had to act fast. The last thing I wanted was for you to go the same way as those firemen.’
At the mention of the emergency service volunteers who had so unceremoniously lost their lives, Alice hung her head in sorrow. ‘We should go and see if we can help any of them. There may be some that are injured.’
‘And maybe some that need messages sent to their families,’ Jack finished, his tone sombre.
With the planes gone, silence echoed all around them, apart from the sound of the cricket bats that hung in the window, swinging in the breeze.
For the next few hours Alice and Jack worked side by side as they helped clear the wreckage, giving notes to messenger boys who cycled across the city carrying news of loved ones, and administering tea, first aid and words of comfort to those that needed it. The air was heavily scented with the stench of burnt wood, and thick dust from the blasts filled the skies.
Word spread fast that the Germans had dropped a heavy load of hate on the south of the city, destroying entire streets and wiping out families with an avalanche of bombs.
But of course it wasn’t just Jack and Alice dispensing aid. The moment the all-clear siren sounded teams of WVS volunteers arrived ready to serve tea to the newly homeless, while wardens roamed the streets checking on the welfare of residents.