Maisie absorbed each new experience and couldn’t wait to share it all with Cam in her letters. After Coleen left armed with a new outfit, Maisie sat down and wrote a new poem and included it in the letter.
Holly Bush House
March 15th 1942
Dear Cam,
How I enjoyed your last letter. Canada sounds like a wonderful place and somewhere I think I would like to visit. Your memories are good ones to hold on to. If only I could share memories of my childhood with you, but alas, you have seen more of England than I have, and I really do not have anything interesting to look back upon. Meeting a handsome Canadian paratrooper is the most exciting thing to have happened in my life but I cannot share it with you as you were there!
My days are not so lonely now I’ve a companion. Coleen is a nurse and we work most shifts together. She’s Irish and great fun. She teaches me so much about life outside of this place. We listen to music and she keeps me updated with the latest fashions. I sew much better than her (she said that; it’s not me boasting) and we recreate outfits by copying them from magazines. I am now a great fan of Glenn Miller, and The Beverley Sisters. What wonderful uplifting music they share with us. My feet tap even if I try to prevent them.
It might seem silly to you getting excited over songs, as you jump from planes and fight the enemy every day, but it gives me something to hold on to during the times I’m alone and to fill the space you left behind.
Joyce’s bump is growing fast, and I’ve the honour of being the child’s godmother when it arrives about August time.
I have been sent more things which once belonged to the old matron of this place. I have the pen I am using to write this letter, a key, and a box which has no keyhole. I can’t think what the key might belong to, but she had kept it secure inside a little box, so I assume it is important to someone. I’ve not thrown it away in case I find the rightful owner or a keyhole it fits. It’s an odd thing, throwing away keys. I can’t bring myself to do it. I had some from broken cabinets in the orphanage and I put them in a tin inside a cupboard. What use are they? I think I’ll give them to the metal collection to be made into bullets or something useful.
The weather is improving – windy but not so cold. I don’t suppose you would appreciate windy days in your job. I still cannot imagine how anyone could jump from a moving plane. You are so brave.
I’m going back to Aldershot soon. There is a dance – for adults this time – civilians and servicemen and women mixed. Coleen insists I join them. There are hundreds of Canadian soldiers based here now, but never fear, I only have room for one in my life.
Another poem for you to enjoy.
Winter Died Last Night
It brushed my skin – the warmth
Of a gentle breeze alerts me,
Winter died last night, yet
No mourning will you see.
A blade of grass, a satin petal,
Oh, new life, a simple thread.
The birth of Spring renews me,
Winter passed away; it’s dead.
Spring arrives full glory,
It carpets the world with green,
Bursting buds and rainbows –
We forget Winter has ever been.
Stay safe.
With my love,
Maisie
Saxophone music blasted from the hall and loud laughter reached Maisie’s ears before she’d even stepped down from the truck.
Coleen shook out the creases from her outfit, and Maisie touched the curls at the base of her own neck – just for something to do. Her fingers trembled as she readjusted her skirt and removed her gloves. She knew she’d made the right dress choice as it felt comfortable around her bare legs which she’d painted with cold tea and which now sported a false seamline of amazing accuracy, drawn with care in eyebrow pencil by Coleen. The navy dress with a Peter Pan collar was another updated outfit which had been donated by one of the other tiny-waisted girls.
According to Coleen, the dress fitted and draped in all the right places. When Maisie first saw herself in the mirror, she was surprised by how glamorous she looked compared to her normal appearance.
‘We’re sure to have fun. Look at all those handsome faces,’ Coleen said and linked her arm through Maisie’s.
Maisie looked, but wouldn’t have said the grinning faces staring over at them were particularly handsome. Happy, for sure – and some she would describe as leery – but in her mind, none were as handsome as Cam. Her heart fluttered at the thought of his good looks.
‘Tonight might be your lucky night, Coleen. A husband might lurk amongst that lot,’ Maisie teased her friend and laughed. More laughter came when one of the soldiers shouted over the noise and called them twins.
She and Coleen were the opposite in height and shape. Coleen had more flesh on her bones and was much shorter than Maisie. She was a pretty girl with red hair, but nowhere near as red as Maisie’s. They’d both joked that Maisie might have Irish blood running through her veins, but Coleen said she’d never seen anyone with such deep colouring in Ireland. Another girl wondered if it was Scottish blood, as she had once nursed a Scot with the same thick mane.
The thought of having a Scottish mother or father appealed, but before she could ponder the idea anymore, Coleen was nudging her inside the hall.
Maisie gasped. The room looked different from when she’d last stepped inside. Bright bunting decorated the walls and lights draped with a coloured cloth gave the room a completely different feel compared to the afternoon of the children’s party.
Male voices boomed out deep resonating laughter, a total contrast to the poor men recovering at Holly Bush. Maisie’s ears tingled with the happy sounds. A Glenn Miller song she recognised came on and she watched the floor fill with gyrating bodies.
‘Wanna dance, Red?’
Maisie looked up at the tall soldier grinning at her with anticipation and gave a polite smile.
‘I … um … thank you, but I don’t.’
Without waiting to see if she’d change her mind, he headed towards another female victim.
‘Your loss,’ he muttered.
Coleen and Maisie giggled together as they watched him walk away with a cocky swagger.
‘Where’s your sense of adventure, Maisie?’ Coleen said, composing herself as a group of men looked their way.
Maisie played with the fringe of her evening bag, a gift from Joyce.
‘The moment they use the name Red, I freeze. It’s the name for a film star or something, not me. Besides, I can’t dance, which might prove to be a bit of a problem out there.’ Maisie pointed to the dancefloor at the many bodies performing their skills to a new jive.
Coleen nodded and shouted above the music which had now been turned up more than a notch.
‘If Hitler can’t see us, he’ll hear us! You have film-star quality about you, Maisie. Use it. Flaunt it. Have fun. Life’s too short.’
Before Maisie could reply, Coleen was swept off her feet by a very enthusiastic Canadian who was not taking no for an answer.
‘What, no dancing for Maisie from the orphanage?’
A familiar voice cut through the vibrant tones of the saxophone and Maisie’s insides fluttered with excitement. She turned to see Cam standing beside her, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
‘Cam!’ Maisie shouted out, looking at him in shock.
‘Hello Maisie. Well, at least that’s who I think I’m talking to. Look at you!’ Cam let out a low whistle of approval and chuckled when Maisie gave him a twirl.
Cam winked approvingly and grinned widely. ‘How’s things?’
‘Good. Better now you are here. What a wonderful surprise! When did you get back? I never dreamed you’d be here. I thought you’d be dangling from the edge of a plane or somewhere more glamorous.’
Cam raised his glass to her.
‘Aldershot isn’t glamorous? Well, well, who’d have thought.’
Maisie gave his arm a light punch.
‘Stop teasing me.’
Cam made a melodramatic pretence of being injured and laughed.
‘You wound me. Stop it, you cruel woman.’
Maisie’s heart flipped as she enjoyed their banter. She longed to experience another of his kisses but held back, not wanting to make a fool of herself in case he rejected her. It was far more public than at the children’s party or the room where they’d last kissed. Maisie was determined to enjoy every second they had together but she also didn’t want to put him off by being too forward. She sensed he was enjoying the moment, too. Kissing could come later.
‘No woman out there for you to dance with, Cam?’ she teased.
Cam stared out across the room, making a game of seeking out a companion.
‘No. She might be standing right beside me though.’
Before Maisie could say anything, Cam had grabbed her bag, placed it on the table beside him, and pulled her onto the dancefloor.
‘Cam, no. Stop. I can’t dance.’
Fixing his eyes on hers he shook his head, and she stopped resisting.
‘I’ll lead you. Relax. Let me hold you. Like this, yes, that’s right.’
Cam’s arms held her in the waltz position, and he tapped her right foot with his.
‘Slide it, lift, and tap gently down.’
The warmth of his breath against her ear and the firmness of his hold brought Maisie’s heart rate to a racing level. Her mind filled with unexpected questions.
Was this passion? Was it lust? She’d heard about lust from her friends’ giggles and chats. Maisie concluded that what she felt when Cam held her close was most definitely lust. His body melded with hers at one point and she made no objection.
Coleen moved past them with her partner and stared open-mouthed. She winked at Maisie who felt the blush of pleasure burn into her cheeks and was thankful that the lights were dimmed. At one point, Cam pulled her so close they danced chest to chest. She sensed that Cam also felt that there was more between them than friends who’d shared stolen kisses. They were two people who’d written the words but had never been able to act them out together. Neither of them let go; they clung to each other in silent declaration that they were a couple.
They stared into each other’s eyes as they moved carefully around the gyrating enthusiasts. She snuggled close, inhaling his scent. It stirred her innermost feelings, and when she glanced up at him again, he winked and ran his tongue across his lips. It was the most intimate experience of her life, and Maisie couldn’t resist stroking his neck as he rested his lips on her forehead.
Throughout the evening, Cam and Maisie were glued to each other. They talked and enjoyed several intimate dances, but she drew the line at the livelier ones, protesting that learning to dance one style was enough for this evening. Coleen and her new friend, Ted, joined them and the four of them laughed the night away. Maisie had never experienced an evening like it and occasionally sat back just listening to them talk about their travels and lives before the war. Ted was the son of a farmer and intended to return to take his place at the head of the business once it was all over.
After a while, Maisie realised that Cam didn’t speak about his future plans the way he had in his letters. He told them of the past, of waterfalls and logs, of pine trees and raccoons, but always with a wistful, distant look in his eyes. His homesickness was apparent … and it scared her. What if Cam became so homesick that she no longer featured in his plans of a life together? What if he just upped and left when his job was done? No matter how many times she’d given herself a good talking to, Maisie always had a niggling pang of insecurity when it came to Cam. How much of herself should she invest in him? For tonight, it would be all she could give, but would it be enough? Maisie reached out and touched his hand as it rested on his knee. He turned and looked her full in the face.
Maisie held his gaze. For a fleeting moment she wanted to reach into his mind and soothe any troubled thoughts he might have.
Coleen and Ted were too involved with each other to notice, and Maisie let the stare linger. Cam’s hand slid out from underneath hers and he stroked her fingers.
‘You have beautiful fingers,’ he said and wrapped his own around hers. Lifting them to his lips, he placed a soft kiss on each one.
Maisie said nothing. She just let the warmth of his touch send shockwaves around her body.
As the pleasant tingling sensation increased, Maisie thought more about Cam’s nature. He had a gentle, kind manner with no hint of aggression if something didn’t go his way. He treated her with respect. His attention was solely on her but at no point did he make her feel uncomfortable and he never took advantage. She’d witnessed other girls removing the wandering hands of servicemen from buttocks or breasts but Cam never overstepped the mark.
The silent moments between them were filled with unspoken words. The conversation was soft and relaxing, amusing and fulfilling.
When it became clear that the end of the evening was only a few dances away and the slower paced, more romantic tunes filtered through, Cam encouraged Maisie to her feet, and they swayed in unison around the floor. He stroked her cheek with a tenderness that indicated their friendship had progressed to a different level.
‘Never stop writing to me, Maisie. I couldn’t bear it,’ he whispered.
Maisie laid her head against his chest. ‘I won’t. I promise,’ she replied.
No sooner had the tender moment passed, another emotion hit Maisie tenfold: fear.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted a staggering Simon across the room, and the menacing look he gave her as he puffed on his cigarette communicated a message loud and clear. He was not going to ignore her and Cam. As she went to pull away from Cam, Simon took his first step towards them.
‘Cam, please let me go and walk right out of the building. You’re not safe. My friend Simon is heading our way and I’ve a horrid feeling he’s drunk. I’ve seen that look on his face before when we were children. He punches out for his own way. Something has made him angry, and I’ve a feeling it’s you.’ Her words came thick and fast, and she took steps to make sure a gap separated them enough to end their intimate time together.
A puzzled Cam looked at her and then turned around. But it was too late. Simon had lashed out and his fist caught Cam square in the jaw. To Maisie’s horror, he did it again. She screamed.
Ted and several friends crossed the dancefloor along with several other servicemen. It happened so fast that it was almost a stampede. The music stopped and several girls ran to surround Maisie. Chaos ensued.
Simon hit out at anyone in his path and took another swing at Cam.
‘Leave my girl alone.’
His voice was slurred and threatening. Maisie knew she had to speak out or it would end in a bloodbath. She stepped out of the circle of protective girlfriends and spoke with a clear voice, although she shook inside, both with anger and disappointment.
‘Simon, this is Cam, my boyfriend. Please, stop.’
Simon scowled at her and took another swig from a beer bottle.
Maisie looked at Cam nursing his jaw. He stood there, tall and dignified.
‘Leave us alone, Simon. Leave me alone. You can’t treat me like this; it’s ridiculous.’
Simon threw the bottle to the ground where it shattered before stepping closer. Maisie held out her hand to Cam to prevent him from moving. Simon swayed and steadied himself against the table. He tapped out a cigarette from a box and after a few attempts lit it and puffed heavily on it. No one moved. Everyone was waiting for the tension to ease and for Simon to lose interest and walk away. Maisie decided on another approach to calm the situation.
‘How have you been, Simon?’ she asked and added a smile.
Simon peered through glassy eyes and took another drag on his cigarette, releasing the smoke her way. Maisie took a step back and Cam placed a steadying hand on her back.
‘Shut it. I’ve been watching you behaving like a dockside whore. Good job I was here to st
op you making a fool of yourself.’
Simon staggered towards her as he spat out his words and Maisie ducked away.
‘I’ve known him for nearly two years. He’s not someone I’ve just danced with tonight. We’ve been writing to each other and he’s important to me – not that it’s any of your business,’ Maisie finished.
As she regained her balance, she saw Cam stretch back his shoulders and adjust the sleeves of his jacket.
‘No, Cam. Don’t get into trouble because of him … because of me,’ she pleaded with him and threw a look of help in Ted’s direction.
The main doors burst open and several more alcohol-fuelled soldiers staggered inside, all spoiling for a fight. Most chose to support Simon and with a whoop and a shout, punches were thrown and tables were overturned.
Coleen put her arm around Maisie.
‘Let’s leave them to it, Maisie. I’ve seen this before. Tension and frustration at this awful war has to come out somehow. There’ll be bruised eyes and hangovers tomorrow, but it will be forgotten by dawn.’
Although she wanted to leave, Maisie knew Simon’s temper was at its maximum level. She’d seen him get fired up as a child and she remembered how pushy he had been that evening in her cottage. He’d lashed out regardless of the consequences. She knew he would punch and fight it out until blood was drawn. She’d ignored this side of him back when they were children because he’d been her only friend.
Cam didn’t stand a chance. For some reason, Simon considered Maisie his property and seemed to want to fight for her despite her objections. He was an intensely stubborn man on a mission to destroy all enemies. Maisie had seen it before; it was a basic instinct in a lot of orphans who’d lived at Holly Bush. She’d seen both boys and girls fight for what they wanted until knuckles bled. The less you had, the harder you fought to keep it. Tonight, his fists pummelled at anyone within range and Maisie stared on in dismay.
The Forgotten Orphan: The heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel Page 15