THE BEAUTY SHOP

by Suzy Henderson

  ‘He’s gonna land her on the beach. Jeez, he’s got no landing gear.’

  Stella looked on, her heart hammering her ribs and it seemed as if everything went silent. The breath caught in her throat as the Spitfire belly landed with a dull thud, and slid along a stretch of beach, spraying a dust storm of sand in its wake.

  ‘Wait here.’ Mac sprinted across the road, followed by several Canadian servicemen and together, they breached the barriers and ran towards the aircraft. Stella froze to the spot, her heart racing as her gaze followed Mac.

  A crowd of people drew near to watch, and she followed, crossing the road, oblivious to the oncoming cars, most of which had stopped as the drivers got out to watch the unfolding drama. The Spitfire slumped in the sand, the canopy still closed. Thick black smoke swirled and puffed upward, forming a blanket of cloud above and around the crash site, shrouding her view. She picked out the shapes of men moving around and saw someone climb onto the port wing and prise open the Perspex hood. The breeze blew and cleared the scene long enough for her to glimpse Mac crouched on the wing with one of the Canadians. Between the two of them, they hoisted the pilot from his seat, dragging him clear of the cockpit and lowering him down into waiting arms.

  ‘Watch out for the mines,’ a soldier yelled.

  Stella couldn’t see Mac any more as scores of people moved and blocked her view, all vying to see as black smoke swirled upward, thick, choking, the acrid smell flooding her nostrils. All seemed still – until the explosion. She jumped at the deafening roar, and a river of adrenaline surged through her body as bright orange flames lashed out through the black. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, numb as people charged in all directions. She snatched at breaths as pain gripped her chest. Open-mouthed, she stared at the beach. Several men shook their heads.

  ‘Please, God, no.’ Tears welled in her eyes and the blood whooshed through her ears. ‘Mac,’ she whispered, staring straight ahead at the palls of smoke. Seconds sailed into minutes and as she gazed into the road, she swore the small boy lay there with fear glazed in his eyes. She began to tremble.

  ‘Honey, are you all right?’ Mac crouched down next to her, and she fell into his arms, sobbing. He stroked her hair, and whispered soothing shushes in her ear, and for a few seconds, she could hardly believe he was safe.

  ‘I couldn’t see you. You vanished. I thought . . . ’ She broke off, her words drowned out by sobs.

  Mac held her close. ‘It’s all right; I’m here in one piece. Shh, don’t cry, honey.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. ‘Here you go, dry your eyes and I’ll take you back to the guest house.’ His face was smeared with grime, and the acrid smell of smoke clung to his uniform, his hands ingrained with dirt and grease. ‘The pilot’s pretty beat up, but he’ll live.’

  ‘All thanks to you.’ She sniffed.

  ‘The damn canopy was jammed. Poor guy couldn’t get out.’

  ‘But you could have been . . . ’ She stopped herself and swallowed. He was a hero, and the relief she felt overwhelmed her. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  When they reached the guest house, Mac led her straight to her room. ‘Maybe you should have a rest, you’re in shock. I’ll get you some tea.’

  ‘Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone.’ She looked at him, misty-eyed. ‘Please Mac, just hold me.’

  He held her gaze, pushed the door shut behind him, and reached for her outstretched hand. He led her to the bed and lay down, shuffling across to make room for her. She turned to face him as he cradled her in his arms.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you, and I couldn’t bear it.’ She gazed into his eyes as he stroked the hair away from her face and dabbed the fresh tears from her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, soft and gentle, and Stella gave way to the passion that had been building inside her like a volcano. He kissed her neck and moved down to unbutton her shirt, kissing her chest.

  Stella gasped. ‘Make love to me.’

  He raised his eyes to hers. ‘Are you sure?’

  She pulled him to her, kissing him more passionately than ever, exploring the softness of his mouth with her tongue. With his lips still on hers, he unbuttoned his shirt, his fingers fumbling with buttons. He stood up, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his trousers to the floor. He took Stella’s hand and pulled her up towards him, planting a soft kiss on her brow. She slipped her hands inside his shirt and eased it slowly over his shoulders, the sleeves skimming his arms before it swished to the floor. As she gazed into his eyes, a fierce intensity burned there, and he pressed his lips to hers, firm, with fresh hunger.

  Unhurriedly, he traced his finger across the swell of her breasts, then eased her shirt off. He unzipped her skirt and moved closer, stretching his arms around her back to release her bra. He gasped.

  ‘God, Stella, you’re so beautiful.’ He kissed her breast before scooping her up in his arms and laying her softly on the bed. Her heart pounded faster as the blood surged through her body. Thank God she was wearing the cream satin underwear and not those awful regulation woollen knickers.

  Never before had she been so exposed and yet uninhibited, about to do what suddenly seemed so natural. It was an urge that had swelled like a high tide and was poised to crash. As she caressed Mac’s chest, she marvelled at the muscular contours and slid her hand down across his ribs and in towards his navel. He gasped, and his warm breath caressed her neck as he kissed her ear, sending a shiver through her entire body. He slid his hand down her belly, over the swell of her hip, down to her knickers, gently easing them down. His lingering gaze covered every inch of her nakedness.

  ‘You’re so perfect.’

  As he slid his hand up over her thigh, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, feeling his hardness against her. He discarded his boxers, reached down for his trousers and dragged a small envelope from the pocket. He ripped it open, and pulled out the French letter. Seconds later, he nudged her thigh apart with his knee and guided himself into her, watching her face as he did so. She let out a small wince of pain, held her breath for several seconds, and screwed her eyes tight shut.

  ‘Stella, open your eyes.’

  She looked directly at him, his dog tags dangling in front of her, cold metal skimming her chest. He moved gently, slowly, easing her into the rhythm, kissing her lips, her breasts, and the burning sting ebbed away on a wave of pleasure that washed through her entire body. She lifted her legs, arching her back to drive him deeper still, gasping as he did so, digging her nails into his back as she moaned. And when he touched her down there, she was so startled by the sensation that burst into being and blossomed. She cried out, releasing the last of any inhibitions she may have had as she rocked her hips in time with his, their bodies entwined.

  He looked at her, his eyes intense. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ she gasped.

  His groans became urgent and his thrusts stronger, deeper, until he shuddered and ceased, the rush over. He gazed into her eyes and with his finger, traced a line down her cheek, and then his mouth was on hers, a long, lingering kiss before he rolled onto his back, cradling her in his arms.

  ‘God, I love you,’ he said, catching his breath.

  ‘I love you too.’ She felt a slight chill and pulled the blanket over them as they lay watching the sunset through the window. Hues of salmon pink and lilac infused the sky. ‘I never expected it to be like that.’ She felt a lump in her throat, feeling so in love and loved.

  ‘Like what, honey?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Later that night, Stella was unable to sleep, and she lay listening to crumps in the distance, along with the ack-ack bursting into the darkness as aircraft droned into the night. The south-east coast was getting a pasting. Naked, she rose and tiptoed to the window. Startled by another crump, a fiery glow rose in the distance, illuminating the horizon, and then Mac was behind her, his firm body warm against hers, his arms slipping around her, and she leaned into his
muscular chest. ‘I wonder where it’s happening tonight.’ She stroked his leg, marvelling at the sparse covering of wiry hairs across his muscular thigh.

  ‘Looks like it’s on the coast. Could be Hastings, but I reckon it’s a little further east. Jerry getting rid of the surplus before they fly home.’ He kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Mac, I can’t bear to think of you flying again.’ She hugged him tight.

  ‘Whoa there, you’re crushing the life outta me, woman.’ He laughed, cupping her chin with his hand as he brushed his lips over hers. ‘I love you more than anyone else in the world, but I came here with a job to do. And now I’ve got you to come home to, you can be sure I’ll do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll come back.’

  ‘Stella, I hope I will, but you know I can’t promise anything.’

  ‘I need you to. Please.’ She laid her head on his chest, which rippled on the wave of his deep sigh.

  ‘I promise I’ll do my best. I’d do anything for you, you know that.’ He brushed her head with his lips.

  Anything except take a desk job. A numbness crawled into the hollow of her stomach. If only they could stay like this, or just have another day or two together. She clutched at time greedily, but time waited for no one and invariably ran out. She closed her eyes, drinking in the smell of him, his warmth on her skin, imprinting every inch of his being in her memory to cherish later. But it would never be enough. She wrapped her arms around him, breathing him in as an unsettling darkness grew inside her.

  ‘Wait right there, honey.’ Mac prised himself away, strode over to his jacket and pulled something from the pocket.

  As he sauntered back, wearing nothing but his shorts, warmth flooded her entire body. She flicked a glance at the jewellery box in his hand, and her heart raced. He led her to the bed and sat down beside her.

  ‘Stella, I’ve loved you from the very first moment I saw you across that crowded dance hall, and I’ve been waiting, hoping ever since.’ He stroked her face with his right hand, then cupped her chin, brushing her lips with his. ‘I love you so much it hurts, and I never want to be parted from you again.’ He got down on bended knee and took her left hand in his. ‘Stella Charlton, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’ He flipped the box open.

  The breath hitched in Stella’s throat at the diamond that captured the incandescence of the moonlight. ‘Oh, Mac.’ Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Yes, yes I will.’

  Mac plucked the gold ring from its velvet perch, and as he slipped it on her finger, a bond like a silken ribbon wrapped itself around them, binding them together at last.

  ‘My mother will think I’m mad – we hardly know one another.’

  Mac’s smile faded, and he held her hands. ‘I know you. You’re the gal that walks through my dreams. It’s your face I see each night before I fall asleep and each morning when I wake. And when I’m flying, you’re right there with me through the clouds, across the Channel, following the glint of the Loire River all the way and back again. You’re in here.’ He patted his heart.

  A single tear pearled on Stella’s lower eyelashes, wet, tickling, and bounced onto her cheek. Mac gently brushed it away.

  ‘I can’t make it without you. I can’t do any of this without you, honey.’ His dark blue eyes bore into her soul, and his brow furrowed, each ripple carrying the burden and grief of war.

  A vice clamped her heart, and she swallowed as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. ‘You don’t have to. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

  As Mac drifted off to sleep, the sounds all around became acutely sharp. The whoosh of a passing car, voices followed by laughter. Footsteps tip-tapped along the corridor, then a bang as a door slammed. Outside the wind blew the trees, and the leaves cackled back, but he didn’t mind. He was flying. The old Curtiss Jenny was light and lithe in his hands, soaring over the prairie beneath the burning sun. Soaring into a fog, dark and thick, slipping into the freezing cockpit of the Texas Rose. A familiar voice buzzed in his ear and then a suffocating heat consumed him, and he gasped just as a hand reached out and pulled him close, and he danced with the girl with blonde hair and green eyes. With a start, he woke to find Stella’s hand upon his chest, smoothing out his metal dog tags, her lips formed to speak as she shushed him, her eyes on his, soothing. His breaths came rapid and shallow, and his gaze darted all around, but no one else was there. He focused on her sunflower eyes and sucked in slow, deep breaths as his breathing steadied.

  ‘You cried out,’ she whispered.

  Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He sat up and planted his feet on the cool, wooden floorboards. Stella padded across to the window and heaved up the sash. A cool breeze flowed and wrapped itself around him. Mac sniffed – the familiar perfume of the Beauty Shop, roasted flesh, would it ever leave?

  Stella got a handkerchief and wiped his brow. God, what must she be thinking? ‘Thanks,’ he muttered, taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards him. He buried his head against her chest as she wrapped her arms around him and he caught the floral scent of her skin and drank it in. The night held the memories, releasing them in pieces like ghosts. An icy chill draped across his shoulders, and he lay back, his head sinking into the pillows, pulling Stella down beside him.

  He closed his eyes as she rested her head on his chest. It was moments such as these when he wondered what he was doing going back to the 91st, risking everything he had. He kissed the top of her head. ‘I love you, Stella, more than anything.’

  ‘More than flying?’

  He gave her a squeeze. ‘I reckon that’s a whole different kind of love, but yeah, more than flying.’

  She snuggled into him without another word. His body was heavy and ached for peace, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t sleep. His heart sank at the thought of leaving her again. Service life kept you all bound up in rules and duty and snatching snippets of happiness like this wasn’t much, but it was priceless.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  An Uncertain Farewell

  Archie propped the door wide open as a group of lads jostled by with three of the new recruits as chaperones. ‘Off to the pub, boys?’ He grinned as they strolled along, linking arms with beautiful girls who seemed to have eyes only for them. The air thrummed with energy, like Spitfires raring for the off.

  ‘How did you guess, Maestro? Care to join us?’ an airman asked.

  ‘I’d love to, but I’m afraid there’s work to be done. Another time, lads.’ Archie smiled. No doubt the girls would boost their confidence a treat. He’d told Blackie it was a cracking idea, even if it had appeared to be a little mad. Trawling the West End. Goodness knows what people must have thought. There had been some raised eyebrows, whisperings, and disapproving looks. He smirked. Two older men chatting up young women.

  Of course, Blackie had faltered about the quest and quite rightly so. But, as Archie had explained, it was all in aid of a good cause. Besides, the lads would feel more comfortable on the arm of beautiful girls rather than nurses.

  He glanced around and spotted Mac slouched on his bed, squeezing the devil out of a therapy ball. ‘Morning, Mac. How are you?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better, doc.’

  ‘And how’s Stella?’

  ‘Swell. I asked her to marry me.’ He flashed a broad grin.

  ‘And?’ Archie held his breath for a moment.

  ‘She said yes, of course.’ Mac laughed.

  ‘Well done. Congratulations. So, when’s the big day?’

  ‘Oh we haven’t talked about it yet, but we will just as soon as I get out of here.’

  Archie slapped him on the back. Another success story. Some of the boys had dates, one or two others were going to be married. Obviously whatever he was doing here was working. A warm glow spread inside him. ‘Well, I expect an invitation.’

  ‘Really? You’d come?’

  ‘Try stopping me.’ A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘Well, I’d best have a look at you if you’re in a hur
ry to escape.’ Although the last operation had been a success and Mac had more hand function than before, a degree of stiffness persisted in the fingers. If only the results had been a little better. Of course, he’d known Mac was never going to have perfect hands, but he’d hoped for a slightly better result than this. He heaved out a sigh, then pursed his lips.

  His own surgery had been a success, thank God. He’d been lucky. He examined Mac’s face; the new skin graft had taken well. He’d used a piece of undamaged skin from the underside of the other arm this time. ‘The face is looking far better, healing very well, and we’ve managed to remove most of the thicker scar tissue.’

  ‘Will I still be badly scarred?’

  ‘Oh yes, but it’s a damn sight better than it was.’

  Mac’s smile faded and his brow furrowed as he dragged a hand through his hair.

  ‘I’m pleased with it. Excellent progress.’ Archie patted Mac’s shoulder and nodded. ‘Keep applying the cream. It helps the skin to heal and reduces the scarring a little.’ Archie scanned the medical notes. ‘Let’s take a look.’ He took Mac’s outstretched hands and examined them in detail. ‘Grip my hands, as hard as you can.’

  Mac gripped them, a look of concentration on his face.

  ‘Steady on! I see you’ve been working hard. By Jove, you must be squeezing the heck out of that ball.’ Archie chuckled. ‘Now, you’ll remember that I mentioned the need for further surgery. The good news is, I don’t think that we have to do anything right now, but in time you’ll require more work on those hands.’

  ‘Thanks, doc.’ Mac grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘I guess I can abandon those damn splints too.’

  ‘Oh, yes. They’ve done their job. Well then, there doesn’t seem to be much keeping you here. I don’t suppose you’d care to reconsider?’ Archie studied him, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Reconsider? Oh, you mean, will I change my mind?’