THE BEAUTY SHOP

by Suzy Henderson

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just when they carried you out of the aircraft, you were so grey. I thought I’d lost you.’ Her chin trembled, and she dipped her hand into her coat pocket, dragged out a handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes.

  ‘I told you I’d be back.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘When we were struggling up there, you hauled us back. I kept on looking at your pretty picture up there by the instrument panel, and I prayed.’ Mac’s eyes grew misty, and his chest ached – only partly due to the injury.

  Stella sniffed, and her mouth curved up into a brave smile.

  ‘I’m so tired. It feels as if I’ve lived a hundred years already.’ He yawned, his eyes closed once more, and a single crystal droplet emerged from the corner of his eye and streaked across his cheek.

  ‘You rest, darling. I’ll come back later.’ Stella brushed her lips across his, and he put his arm around her, drawing her close.

  Stella stepped out into the fresh morning air and inhaled. Autumn leaves of cherry, gold, and copper danced in the breeze, scuttling wherever it blew as the overhead trees cackled. She yawned. A wave gripped her chest, and she pursed her lips as tears stung her eyes. Mac almost died. They could have all died. She heaved in a deep breath and grabbed her cycle, her lead-like limbs protesting at the prospect of a long ride home.

  ‘Stella?’

  She spun around to face Mac’s co-pilot. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Are you off home?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve left him to rest.’

  ‘Here, I’ll give you a ride.’ Wilson took the bicycle from her hands and crammed it in the jeep. He smiled, his kind chestnut eyes framed by dark circles.

  ‘Oh, thanks. I’m exhausted.’ She dabbed her eyes.

  ‘He’ll be all right. Tough as old boots.’ Wilson winked.

  That’s what the doctor had said. She smiled. ‘Well, I’m so glad you managed to land the aircraft.’

  ‘That was mainly all due to Mac. He’s a mighty fine pilot. One of the best.’

  She thought back to the conversation she’d overheard last night. The doctor mentioned something about nerve damage to Mac’s arm. She clambered into the jeep and heaved out a breath. What treatment would he need for that? Perhaps he’d be grounded for a while until it resolved. Her stomach lifted. She closed her eyes against the bright morning sun with its determined glint through the trees as the jeep hurtled along the country lane.

  Mac gazed out of the window as white clouds sailed by in a flawless sky. So, the numbness in his arm wasn’t just something that was going to resolve itself in time. Nerve damage. That’s what the doc had called it. He shook his head and lay back, his head sinking into the pillows. Swell.

  ‘Hey, Mac. How’s it going?’ Red positioned his wheelchair at the bottom of the bed.

  ‘Hey, Red. I’ll be okay. How’s the leg?’

  ‘Doc says I should be up and about in a week or so. Can’t walk on it for a few days so I asked the nurse to get me a chair. The hell I’m staying in bed all day.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t blame you. I think I might go stir crazy if I’m stuck here too long.’

  ‘You heard about Val?’

  Mac shook his head.

  ‘They’re shipping him home. Would you believe that cannon shell almost shattered his arm? He’s had surgery, but they told him he’d probably need another op. Bad luck, huh?’ Red wheeled himself around to the side of the bed.

  Mac’s cheek twitched. ‘It sure is, but I’m glad he’s going to be okay. You too, Red. You both got lucky up there.’ At least they’d made it home, almost in one piece. He sure hoped Val would make a full recovery.

  Red glanced at the floor and hunched his shoulders. ‘We were lucky to make it home, and that was down to you, Mac, and Wilson.’ Red nodded to him. ‘We lost some Forts, and the guys said most of the ones that made it back were all badly shot up, including ours.

  ‘How many did the 91st lose?’

  ‘We lost one, but the group took thirty losses.’ Red’s eyes glazed over. ‘The 91st had several more casualties as well as us.’

  Jeez, three hundred men missing.

  ‘Oh, gee, here she comes. Nursey.’ Red rolled his eyes as Mac suppressed a laugh.

  ‘There you are. What did I tell you about not overdoing things? And here you are again, pestering Captain Mackenzie. Back to bed for you, quick march. You know what the doctor said.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Red saluted, spun around, and wheeled away.

  Mac chuckled but a sharp pain in his chest silenced him, and he winced. Poor Val. He was one hell of a bombardier, and he’d be mad at having to miss out on the war. On the upside, at least he got to go home and keep out of harm’s way, as Stella would say.

  What was he going to do now if he couldn’t fly? Instructing was out of the question. Hell, what was left? He dragged a hand through his hair and his chest pulled. Breathing in was still a little sore, and he pinched his lips. A collapsed lung. Mac shook his head and looked down at his scarred hands. Another mission, another injury, another hospital. How much was enough? And it wasn’t just him. What about Stella? Hadn’t she been through enough already? And then there was his crew. This time, they’d made it. His hands still ached, and he clenched them a few times. He hadn’t been able to pull out of that dive. Wilson had pumped more effort into that mission than ever before and without him, they never would have made it.

  The doc was right. He had to call it a day. He couldn’t push himself and endanger a crew in the process. All this, everything he’d done, had been in support of his duty, to avenge the deaths of his friends, and to ensure he could hold his head up and state boldly how he’d served his country in the war. It was his pride. Just as his pride interfered each time he dared to stare at his reflection. It didn’t matter what he looked like on the outside. It was done now. What mattered was how he lived his life and what choices he made from now on. Appearances don’t make a man. A man has to forge his own way.

  If he wanted to redeem himself in some way, then he’d done it. He clamped his eyes shut as Bill’s face flashed in his mind, then Birdie’s, and all the other guys he’d seen come and go while he’d been stationed here. Jesus, so many faces who’d never see their homes again. His eyes grew misty and a fresh pain seared across his chest as he whipped a tear away.

  It was going to be tough, but he knew he’d never fly one of those big birds again. His heart swelled with a mix of emotions and his ears buzzed with the silence. All the things he loved and hated lay in that ship, played out at high altitude. The smell of cordite scorching your nose, the vibration that buzzed through your entire body, and the sharp, icy cold that penetrated your bones. He sure was going to miss it. Flying was so natural to him, and the sky was his second home. It was one of the best feelings he’d ever known – forming up on a bomber’s wing, glancing across that divide in the air to see the pilot alongside you give you the nod. Gunners waving back and mighty Fortresses all around like stepping stones in a never-ending ocean.

  A new light dawned, one with honeyed undertones, and he’d be a fool to pass up on that. Archie’s voice rang in his ears and the breath caught in his throat. Whatever happens, Mac, don’t struggle on. Promise me you’ll call. Don’t leave it too late. He huffed out a heavy sigh. It was an omen, for sure. He gazed at the ceiling as an ache pinched his throat. Being part of a crew had really meant something and bonds had been forged that would never be broken.

  In a few weeks he was getting married. He sure hoped he’d be fit by then. After everything, there was no way on earth he was going to postpone this wedding.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Bourn, October 30th, 1943

  The china on the dresser rattled and clinked as the vibration grew and buzzed beneath her feet. Stella placed her cup on the table and slipped out into the garden, turning her face towards the sky. The acrid smell of next door’s chimney smoke hung in the air, and across the fields, several B-17s climbed into the clouds. A warm haze filled her, despite the bracing morning breeze. Ma
c wouldn’t be joining them ever again. Her chest tightened at the image of him being stretchered off his ship, an image she hadn’t been able to shift from her mind. She pressed her palm to her heart as tears rushed her eyes.

  He was being discharged today, and because he was on sick leave, the Colonel had given him permission to stay with them. Mrs Brown had been so sweet about it, although she had voiced concern about the morality of the situation, but as the wedding was so close, she’d agreed. Separate rooms, of course. Stella smiled to herself. Hopefully her mother wouldn’t disapprove when she arrived.

  Yesterday, he’d told her his news. His flying days with the Mighty Eighth were over, but the Colonel, he said, wanted to speak with him about another appointment. She could tell that Mac was trying to be buoyant about it, but his dark, dull eyes and his downcast face whispered a different story. The darkness had snatched a little piece of him away. She knew he was going to miss it all so terribly, and he was trying to be brave. Oh, but he was brave, and now they could finally be together. The B-17s faded into the distance, eclipsed by grey clouds.

  ‘Stella, dear. There you are. Our guest has arrived.’ Mrs Brown beamed and squeezed past her as she headed out into the garden with a bowl of grain for the hens. Mac appeared in the doorway, his left arm in a sling and that sweet smile on his lips.

  ‘Oh, Mac. You’re early.’ She dashed across and wrapped her arms around him.

  ‘Hi, beautiful. Whoa, steady now, I’m still a little sore.’

  She turned her face to his, and he kissed her. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. Now I can take care of you.’

  ‘Hmm, I like the sound of that.’ He rested his brow on hers and grinned, his eyes a blur.

  ‘Have you realised we’re getting married in two weeks?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  His voice was so relaxed, and Stella hitched an eyebrow. ‘Well, come and sit down and I’ll make you a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Oh yeah, look in my bag in the hall there. I brought my own supplies.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t impose what with the ration and all.’

  He thought of everything and she smiled to herself. Mac sat down at the kitchen table and removed his crush cap. While she made coffee, the hairs on the back of her neck bristled and she spun around. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? You’ve got that wicked gleam in your eye, Captain Mackenzie.’

  ‘Oh, I was just thinking of how well you’ll fit in back home. Why, I ought to write to Mom and let her know she can finally put her feet up.’

  Stella smiled. Goodness, Montana. It was so far away, and her tummy somersaulted. She sank down on the chair next to him and rested her hand on his knee. ‘Do you think they’ll like me?’

  He cupped her chin. ‘Oh, honey, they’re going to love you. Mom’s excited already. They can’t wait to meet you. And Jack can’t wait to have a sister.’ He pressed his lips to hers. Mac always made everything brighter somehow, and inside she beamed.

  Mrs Charlton arrived two days before the wedding, bringing with her a whirlwind of emotion, smiles, and laughter one minute and sobbing the next. Stella was quite overcome by it all and beginning to feel rather drained.

  ‘Mam, this is Mac.’ Stella held her breath for a moment.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.’ Mac held out his hand.

  Mrs Charlton considered it and then stepped forward and hugged him. ‘Well, if you’re marrying my daughter you’d best call me Mam, or is it Mom?’ She laughed, and Stella exhaled as the tension flowed from her body.

  Later, when Mac suggested a walk, Stella agreed. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible; besides, in two days she would be back on duty. The day was dry, cool yet not chilled. Aside from the occasional evergreen, most trees had bared their souls, their leaves of autumnal colours scattering in the wind.

  ‘I love the fall.’ Mac thrust his foot into a pile of dry yellow and red leaves, sending them soaring. They wandered up to the church and sat down on a seat in the grounds, where he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close to his side. ‘Hey, this was our first date. You remember?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘Mac, I’ve been thinking. I feel awful about moving to America and leaving Mam on her own.’

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘I know, but you heard what she said. She was pretty adamant she wants to stay here.’

  ‘Would she be able to come to America?’

  ‘Can’t see why not. She can stay with us, and we’ll look after her.’

  Stella smiled and slipped her arm around his waist. ‘What if you stayed here?’

  ‘Well, if it comes down to it, I will, only the US Army will send me home when it’s time, and who knows how long it’ll take to get my discharge, and then I have to make my way back again.’ He turned to her. ‘I want you with me, Stella, always.’

  He pressed his lips to hers and the bond that bound them squeezed her heart. She couldn’t be parted from him.

  That evening, they were left alone as Mrs Brown and her mother had gone to the church to see to the preparations. Stella brought Mac a cup of coffee and placed it down on the table next to the sofa. He slipped his arm out of the sling, reached for her hand, and pulled her down to him and kissed her.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘To say I love you and thanks for looking after me so well.’ He kissed her again, this time more urgent, his tongue seeking hers. Stella gasped and then he was on top of her, pressing his lips to her neck, gliding to her chest. ‘Oh, God I missed you. Being laid up in the hospital was driving me crazy. I want you.’

  ‘I want you too, but we can’t. Not here.’

  He stopped and looked into her eyes. ‘Two days to go and then I’ll have you all to myself.’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Mac, honestly. Drink your coffee before it gets cold.’ She sat up and cast him one of her stern looks while she watched him reach for his cup with his injured arm. He managed to grasp it, but his hand shook so he transferred it into his right hand. Still, it was an improvement, but it was going to take time.

  The next morning, as Stella walked past Mac’s door, it was ajar, and she caught sight of him staring at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth a tight line, his eyes sad. She held her breath for a moment, instinctively aware of his thoughts. He would never escape the bad memories. How could he when he wore the scars each day? A vulnerability crept into his face when they were out in public, and he would grip her hand tight, but she was blessed to stand proud by his side, to love and support him. Yes, acceptance would take time.

  ‘Mac?’ She opened the door and peered round.

  ‘Hey, morning.’ He strode over and took her in his arms.

  ‘I see you’re not wearing the sling.’

  ‘No. The doc insisted that I do, but I wanted to have a little time out.’

  ‘How does it feel, your arm?’

  ‘Well, right now, around you, it feels pretty good.’ He grinned.

  She raised her chin and reached up to cup both sides of his face. ‘I can hardly believe we’re getting married tomorrow.’ She gazed into his blue eyes. ‘I love you so much and I always will, John Mackenzie.’

  He pressed his brow to hers. ‘I like it when you say my proper name.’

  ‘I like it too. I suppose that’s what your parents call you so I thought I’d better get used to it.’

  ‘Say, where’s your mom?’ Light flashed in his eyes.

  ‘She’s just gone out with Mrs B. Why?’

  ‘This is the last time we’ll be together before we’re married. I won’t see you until tomorrow.’ He gestured to the bed, and his mouth curved up into a broad grin.

  ‘Mac, we can’t.’

  ‘Sure we can. We’re all alone, and tomorrow you’ll be my wife.’

  He strode across to the door and pushed it shut.

  Stella posed in front of the dressing table mirror, her hands caressing the silk she wore, slipping over the fitted crossover bo
dice, the long, flowing skirt that skimmed her hips, while her eyes lingered over the elegant, flowing train. Her gaze sailed up to her neck as she relived Mac’s soft kisses from earlier that morning – kisses that had glided all the way to her breast, then lower still. Her cheeks glowed warm, and she smiled as her heart swelled in her chest. She drew in a large breath and slowly exhaled. Mrs Brown had created something exquisite out of a parachute, and she was privileged to wear it, and she swore never to part with it. This dress had saved one life and was about to help two more begin a new journey together.

  ‘Stella, are you all right?’ Her mother’s voice through the bedroom door.

  ‘Yes. You can come in now.’ She turned to face them, and her mother beamed, but then her chin trembled as tears slipped down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, no, please don’t cry. I was doing so well not to.’ Tears sprang to Stella’s eyes and she fanned her face with her hand as she blew out a breath.

  ‘Oh, you look beautiful, love.’ Mrs Charlton hugged her, her voice high. ‘Mac’s a very lucky man to have you. I hope he knows that.’ She sniffed.

  ‘Oh, I think he does, Mam. You do like him, don’t you? I mean, I know you had your heart set on Alex.’

  Her mother took hold of Stella’s hands. ‘Stella, I only ever wanted you to be happy and well looked after, and I think Mac’s quite capable of taking care of you. It’s funny, but when I see the two of you together, and the way he looks at you, well, I can’t imagine a better husband.’ She hugged her tight.

  ‘Well now, ladies, I think we’d better get a move on. This wedding’s tomorrow, and we need to make sure this dress is fit for purpose.’ Mrs Brown blew her nose.

  ‘Who’s seeing to the flowers?’ Mrs Charlton finished doing up the last button on Stella’s dress.

  ‘Oh, yes. Mrs Thompson from up the road and some of the other ladies from the WI have had a rally round, and they’re taking flowers to the church today. You can come along this afternoon if you like and help with the arrangements.’ Mrs. Brown crouched down on the floor and arranged the train of the dress. ‘There we are. Not too short, not too long. Didn’t I say it would be perfect?’ She beamed up at Stella, her rosy cheeks flushing scarlet.