One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  “Rats.”

  “What?” Benjamin asked he walked in the door.

  “Nothing,” Sylvie said.

  Benjamin didn’t appear as if he believed her. Instead he walked closer until he could sit on the front of her desk. “Look, Sylvie. I know you think I’m being restrictive. But reality is, there aren’t that many people willing to talk with female war correspondents.”

  Sylvie couldn’t let that one pass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Obviously with the number of stories I’ve already turned in, you could hardly say no one wants to talk with me.”

  Benjamin shrugged. “I don’t think you’re actually the type of woman who fits in with other women of that…persuasion who like taking a man’s job.”

  Confused, she frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  His cheeks went a little red. “You know. Most of the women who are war correspondents are…they like other woman over men. But wait, maybe you’ve never heard of that?”

  She was shocked, and for a full few seconds she couldn’t form a word. Finally she discovered her voice, anger peppering her words. “That’s ridiculous. I know what you’re referring to, and I’ve heard of it. All women war correspondents aren’t of that ‘persuasion’, as you call it. I imagine there are some men the same way.”

  “Yeah, but not as many.”

  The man’s ignorance lit a fire under her indignation, and she stood slowly. “I see. So any woman worth her salt must be a woman who prefers women over men.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, as my British friends would say, that is complete and utter bollocks. And I don’t care what a man or woman do in their personal lives. It is none of my concern.”

  Benjamin stood, and anger blossomed in his eyes. “I’d watch out for Annie Hollister. She may have taken a shine to you. Don’t let that fake wedding ring fool you. That’s why she wears it. She uses the story of a fake dead fiancé as a cover story for what she really is.”

  She wondered if the story had any validity whatsoever. “I do not have to listen to this. As you so aptly put it down in the shelter, I have work to do.”

  Benjamin gave another one of his signature grunts. “I’ll be over here, then.”

  As if she truly cared. She’d rather run through sniper fire. She returned to work, her future appearing smaller and smaller as she thought of working for the Tribune for an entire war. Her time here wasn’t turning out quite as she expected. As Benjamin turned to work at his desk, she worried about Alec and wondered what he was doing now.

  * * * *

  Alec and the rest of the crew returned to the Fleet Street station, wet, cold, dirty, and famished. Sally greeted them with a huge smile.

  “So boys, how was it?” She practically burst with enthusiasm.

  Felix groaned and Bink muttered under his breath.

  When they didn’t answer, Alec turned to her. “We almost had a wall fall on us.”

  Saying it made it more real. As the building had fragmented, the intensity of the situation hadn’t sunk into Alec. They’d run, giving themselves enough room to avoid flame, sparks and debris.

  “My God.” Her happy face sobered. “Is everyone all right?”

  Alec nodded. “Cold and wet, but otherwise all right.”

  Bink’s helmet slipped off his head and onto the floor before he could catch it. “Bloody cock up. That’s what it was.”

  “Hey.” Alec threw Bink a cautious look. “Didn’t anyone teach you manners? You don’t talk like that in front of a woman.”

  “Lordy, that’s nice.” Sally smiled, her grin as wide as the sun. “It’s nice you care, but truly none of us ladies around here worry about manners. I’d much rather men say what they mean.”

  Bink grinned at Alec. “See, she doesn’t need her virginal ears safeguarded by you.”

  Felix threw a frown at Bink. “Don’t be a sod.”

  Sally’s eyes sparkled with laughter. Obviously she wasn’t offended. “All right, then.”

  Susie and Edna came from the back room as the men went to change into some dry clothes.

  “You chaps will be wanting some tea?” Edna asked.

  Alec sighed in relief as cold shivered through him. “That would be lovely.”

  After he dried off, ate, and drank hot tea, Alec felt better and had more energy. Fighting the fire had pushed him. He knew much more would come, so he savored this small moment of relative quiet with the other men.

  Day was fading, that time in the English autumn when darkness crept up on the land like a ghost. He was tempted to call the Savoy to talk with Sylvie, but he couldn’t. One didn’t tie up the phones that way. He stood outside the station as darkness enclosed the city. He waited in the silence. The door opened and a woman’s perfume touched his nose. Sally. She wore enough perfume, it would be hard not to know who it was. He turned toward her, but she was mostly a shadow as she closed the door.

  “You all right, Alec?” she asked softly, her voice sweet.

  “Tired. I’ll head off to bed soon. Jerry doesn’t seem interested in the city tonight.”

  “How kind of him to give us a rest.” The sarcasm in her tone softened into sweetness. She yawned.

  “Aren’t you going home?”

  “No. Edna and I are on tonight. We’ll be done tomorrow afternoon just like you.”

  “Is an AFS job ever done? If the Germans keep up at this rate, none of us will have time off.”

  She patted his arm. “You’ll have your girl to go back to. That will make it better.”

  He shook his head, half certain she couldn’t see him that well. “Maybe.”

  “Wait…your paperwork says you don’t have a wife. A sweetheart then?”

  He supposed the darkness wove intimacy around them, but he didn’t feel comfortable expressing everything to a virtual stranger. “Maybe.”

  She laughed. “Do you have a sweetheart?”

  “She’s a very good friend.”

  “Ah, but you would like it to be more. I can tell these things.”

  Amused, he kept the conversation going. “How?”

  “Men just say the most interesting things to me they wouldn’t tell another man. It’s amazing what I learn. They tell me things they wouldn’t tell their own wives.”

  “Doesn’t that concern you?”

  “Sometimes. Most men are all right…I mean, they want someone to talk to. Nothing more.”

  “What about you? Where’s your husband?”

  “Joe is in the RAF flying against Jerry.”

  “Ah. So is my brother. Perhaps they know each other.”

  “When I talk to my husband, I’ll ask. What is your brother’s name?”

  “Jacob Kent.”

  “Very well then. I’ll ask Joey.”

  Sally shifted, and he realized she’d moved to lean against the door. “What made you want to join the AFS?”

  He should feel used to questions like this by now. “The army wouldn’t take me.”

  “Rotten luck about your eye.”

  “Rotten luck. But at least I get to help here and now.”

  Her voice became cheerful and encouraging. “My mum always says that if you look on the bright side more often, better things will come your way.”

  He wanted to believe that. “More often than not, I’d say she’s right.”

  Quiet descended on them, and his thoughts drifted toward Sylvie once more. Part of him longed to be with her, to hold her in his arms. On the other hand, he had a job to do. He’d signed up for this and he took it seriously. He thought of her with Pendleton again and it made him mental. He decided it was better to place Pendleton and Sylvie in the back of his mind.

  When they returned inside, someone had turned on a wireless, and Vera Lynn sang. The song, on some level, made him sad.

  Sally patted him on the shoulder as if in sympathy, but she said nothing as she went into the back room. Her familiarity with him and the other men made him suspicious, but he didn’t
know why. Tired, he decided to save his mental energy for firefighting.

  Chapter 8

  News Of The Day

  New York Herald Tribune

  The United States Congress passed the Burke-Wadsworth Bill (Selective Training and Service Act) by wide margins in both the Senate and House of Representatives. This is the first peacetime draft in the history of the United States. First draftees will be selected next month.

  In England every night, the Germans destroy more buildings and livelihood. On the evening of September 16, bombers caused seven huge fires in the East End and also hit parts of Birmingham and Wakefield Prison. September 17 daylight attacks hit Caterham, Portsmouth, and Speke. At night, London and Merseyside were hit, and the raiders used the 1000-kg blast bombs for the first time. Tremendous shock waves and blast damage were recorded over a quarter-mile radius. In London a fireman rescued two trapped colleagues after a direct hit on a building being used as a shelter by auxiliary firemen. Bombs continue to rain on the capital at night, with some 230 bombers making each night a horrible experience. Bombs are dropped at random, and no one on the ground can guess what damage and casualties will occur in the streets and among civilians.

  * * * *

  Wednesday, September 18

  “So how did your date with James Pendleton go, before the communists broke into the hotel?” Annie asked Sylvie as they took the Underground toward Fleet Street from the Savoy. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember to ask earlier.”

  The rattle of the train across the tracks and the murmur of other voices was a background to their conversation. Most people had their faces buried in newspapers or slept on the short trip.

  Sylvie threw her friend a look designed to quell curiosity. “Fine. We had a lovely dinner, then we tried dancing.”

  A smile broke over Annie’s face. “Tried dancing?”

  “Well, the band played a few modern tunes and a couple of old ones. We tried dancing to the old ones, but frankly, he’s an awkward dancer. I’m not much better.”

  Annie laughed softly, took off her leather gloves, and held them in her lap. “Well, if you had good conversation, that makes up for the dancing, I think.”

  Sylvie couldn’t help smiling as well. “He really is the most awful dancer. But a nice enough man.”

  “Hmmm. You know what they say?” Annie lowered her voice to conspiratorial whisper. “Men who can dance well are particularly good at making love.”

  Sylvie’s face heated at the unexpected statement. “What?”

  “Don’t look so shocked, girl. My heavens.” Annie laughed.

  “I’m not shocked, I’d just never heard that before.”

  Annie’s smile slipped a little. “Never mind. It’s utter tripe anyway.”

  Sylvie laughed.

  “Is your other chap a good dancer?” Annie asked.

  “Who?”

  Annie rolled her gaze to the ceiling. “You know who I mean. Alec Kent. I’ll bet he’s a good dancer.”

  Sylvie thought back to their young years. “I don’t know. I’ve never danced with him, nor seen him dance.”

  “You shall have to try it. Give him a spin, as they say.”

  Sylvie had the distinct impression the woman wasn’t referring to just dancing, and her face went a little warm again. “Uh-huh. Well, he’s busy with the AFS. We won’t have anytime soon for me to try him out.”

  “Shame. Although with the Germans bombing every night, I’m not surprised. When was the last time you spoke to him?”

  “Saturday night.”

  Annie’s expression turned curious. “Did you two fight?”

  “Not a fight, exactly. But I think he’s being a bit bossy and doesn’t realize I don’t want to be ordered around.”

  “Oh dear. Well, he does seem like the protective sort. Which is all right. Until it isn’t, if you know what I mean.”

  Sylvie said, “I’m just happy I’m back at the Savoy.”

  Annie gave a mock expression of anger. “What? You didn’t like staying one night with me?”

  Sylvie laughed. “Of course I liked staying with you. But I’m sure you’re happy to have your flat all to yourself, and I have to admit that being at the Savoy gives me a lot of opportunities for stories.”

  Annie sighed and clasped her hands together over her big pocketbook. “Of course. I have to say I’m very happy to keep writing about fluffy bunnies rather than communists.”

  Sylvie decided to sidetrack the conversation away from herself. For a split second before she asked, she berated herself for the sneaky tactic. “I know this is terribly personal, and when we were in the shelter, you said you weren’t married, but I had the feeling something bad happened. Am I wrong?”

  “No, you aren’t wrong.”

  For a few seconds, the outside world, and even the people in this train, ceased to exist. All Sylvie could see was pain on Annie’s face. “I am so sorry, Annie.”

  Annie nodded and lifted her left hand. “This is my engagement ring. I met Albert Woolery in 1914 at a party hosted by my parents. They had quite a bit of money and wanted me to marry a man they considered respectable. Well, I met Albert thinking I wouldn’t want anything to do with him because my parents liked him. As it turned out, he was the greatest man I’ve ever known. Still, my parents insisted on a long engagement. War came and Albert and I corresponded. He was killed in 1916 in France.” Annie twirled her ring around her finger. “I vowed from that day forward I’d never love another man, and I haven’t. I also defied my parents’ wishes and became a war correspondent. I was a war correspondent until the war ended in 1918. I have one regret. I wish I’d married him before he left for war. I wish in that one thing I had listened to my instincts and not to my parents.”

  Overwhelmed and saddened by Annie’s story, Sylvie couldn’t think of a thing to say at first. “Oh, Annie.”

  Annie pressed her fist to her heart, her gloves clutched in her palm. “He lives right in here. I never forget him, but I do remember that he was the type of man who wanted me to do whatever made me happy. Being a correspondent made me happy. My parents practically disowned me because of that. When father died during the Spanish Flu, Mum went a bit mental. I had to institutionalize her. She died two years ago, not even knowing who I was.”

  Sylvie touched her friend’s shoulder. “That is…I’m so sorry. You’ve had so many tragedies in your life.”

  Annie gave her a rueful smile. “More than some, but not as many as others. All I can say to you is, if you want a man and he wants you, don’t let anyone else’s idea of what is right get in your way. Follow your heart.”

  Sylvie understood one thing about Annie she hadn’t before. Annie Hollister was a strong and independent sort, but there was a soft center. “Thank you, Annie. Good advice.”

  Annie heaved a breath and her cheerful demeanor returned. “I didn’t mean to be so maudlin. Forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive. Thanks for telling me what happened.” The train came into the station. Sylvie smiled. “Annie, you are wonderful.”

  Annie winked. “Don’t let that get around.”

  Sylvie felt bold. “Benjamin has this idea that you’re…a lesbian.”

  Annie laughed loudly enough a couple of older women a few seats over glared at her in disapproval. “No, I’m not. I knew some war correspondents in the Great War that were, but not me. A lot of men use that excuse when they can’t get in your knickers.”

  Sylvie gasped. “He tried to…”

  “Yes. I told him no.”

  “I thought you said he’s harmless?”

  “I lied. I thought it would make Alec a little less bristly.”

  “Oh.”

  They laughed together.

  Sylvie arrived at the New York Herald Tribune offices and discovered only James there. He was deep in a conversation on the phone. When he hung up, she’d already taken off her coat, stowed her pocketbook in a desk drawer, and planned her next move. She made a heavy sigh.

 
“Something wrong?” he asked.

  She decided that unless she’d read James wrong, he wasn’t a backstabber. She could tell him her plan. “Benjamin is obstructing my ability to do my job.”

  James frowned. “That he is.”

  A weight lifted from her. “So you agree I should be able to go out on stories the same way you do. I have a permission letter into the AFS to do a ride along with one of the fire crews and write a story.”

  James tilted his head to the side. “You and I’ve already talked about this. But I know you won’t be happy unless you can do this job the same as I would, or Pugs for that matter.”

  “Good. Then when I tell Benjamin I have permission to ride along with one of the crews, you’ll back me up? You won’t try and steal it from me?”

  James’ frown reached epic size. “Of course not. I can’t believe you’d think that.”

  Before he erased his frown, her phone rang. It surprised her because the thing never rang. It shocked her even more when she realized who was on the other end.

  “Sylvie?” Alec’s deep voice rasped over the line.

  Pure pleasure seized her, and for a second she couldn’t find her voice.

  “Sylvie, is that you?” Alec asked.

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. Sorry. I just didn’t expect your call.”

  “My shift is over and I thought you’d be at work rather than at the Savoy.”

  She looked up and James was already conversing on his phone again. “Of course. How are you?”

  “All right.” He sounded tired. “I haven’t been back to the Savoy since I started work. The shifts have been brutal.”

  Worry smoothed away her excitement. “I can imagine. Are you…are you all right?”

  “I’m good. I also heard that you put in permission to ride along here on Fleet Street.”

  She half-expected disapproval in his voice, but she didn’t detect any. “Yes.”

  “The chief here thought it was a bad idea, but the higher ups approved it. I told him I know you, and since I planned to call anyway…well…there it is. You have permission. If you’re up for it, you can ride along when I’m back on shift Saturday.”

  That wasn’t what she expected, but then she hadn’t expected this conversation with him at all. She wouldn’t, as they say, look a gift horse in the mouth. “Why when you’re back on shift? Why not this evening?” He didn’t answer right away, and her suspicions started to form. “Alec?”