“In a few more hours it will be time to get up and feed the chickens.” Claire laughed, finishing the last of the beer in her glass.
“And the pigs,” I said.
“And the cows,” we all said in unison.
The laughter echoed around the table, and as my two friends stood to put their coats on, they continued to chatter on about the hardships of farm life to John and Andrew. William helped me with my coat, holding it as I turned away from him and slipped my arms down the sleeves. I faced him, brushing my hair free in the back.
“It was good seeing you tonight. Thank you for the dance.”
“It was good to see you too.” He glanced down at the floor, then back up at me. “I know it’s Christmas tomorrow and you must have chores to do, but can you get away for a bit?”
“I might. In the late afternoon or evening.”
“Can you try?”
“Yes, I’ll try.”
“I’ll wait for you here around four o’clock.”
“I should be done by then.”
I moved around him to leave but faced him once more. “If I can’t come, please don’t think it’s because I didn’t want to.”
“I would never think that.”
“I really will try to get away though. I’ll even tell Bea I’ll work extra if she’ll let me.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Amelia - December 1940
“So, what do you think you are going to do?” Isabella asked. She lay across the bed on her stomach, and with her legs up; she crossed them at the ankles.
“Probably just have a beer, maybe dance again. I’m not sure.”
“But it’s Christmas.”
“Should I expect minced pies or suckling pig?”
Isabella rolled over. “Doesn’t that sound divine?”
“I think just the fact you two will be together is enough to make for a pleasant evening. Did you find something to give him as a gift?” Claire asked.
“A gift? Am I supposed to give him a gift?” I spun around as I stood in front of the small mirror hanging on the wall. Pausing with my lipstick in my hand and only half my lips painted.
“I don’t know if you’re supposed to, but it would be nice. He is going off to war in the new year.”
“But what I am to give him? It’s not as though I have the money to buy him something and I can’t bake him any pastries.”
Claire and Isabella exchanged glances and smiled. Isabella rolled over again, and climbed off the bed, reaching down under her bed for her suitcase. She yanked it out and hauled it up onto the bed. With a shove, the top flopped on the blanket as she dug around the dresses and shoes that only saw the light of day when we had a day off. She finally pulled out a square piece of pink shiny material.
“My father brought a couple of these home for me from Paris several years ago. He called it satin, and it’s so soft. Here,” she handed it to me, “feel.”
“It’s wonderful.”
“But?”
“But for what reason am I supposed to give him a square of fabric? Will it keep him warm or is it like a handkerchief?”
“He’d be a fool to use it as a handkerchief.”
“Then why should I give it to him?”
She held up her finger to tell me to wait. As I did, Claire moved around behind me and began removing the curlers from my hair. The chunks of spiraled strands fell, brushing my shoulders and back.
“I think you should only pin half of it back, and then style the curls like this.” She moved my hair around, styling it in a particular way. Although pretty, her quick job of it made it messy. “It will look better when I do it right.” She reassured me.
I nodded, then knelt in front of her so she could begin.
“So, what I am supposed to do with it?” I asked Isabella again.
She gave me a wink as she opened up the drawer of the nightstand and withdrew a tiny bottle. “You spritz it with this.” She sprayed a small pump full of the contents of the bottle on the satin, waving it in the air to dry.”
“But that’s your perfume, not mine.”
“It’s yours for tonight.”
Before I could argue, she lunged for me and sprayed another pump full of the sweet scent on my chest and neck. The cold drops hit my skin, and I screamed. Not loud, but sharp enough to make both girls giggle.
“You could have warned me first.” I said, covering my nose. “And you could have used less.” I fanned the air around me. “I swear, you made me smell like a prostitute.”
“Oh, hush, it’s a lovely scent. All the way from Paris.” She arched her back and stuck her nose up in the air as she spun around on her tiptoes and sat back down on her bed, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees as though to sit as a proper young lady wearing a crown on her head. “And it will bring him great comfort when he’s out on the battlefield.”
“By smelling it?”
“Of course. He will smell it and think of you and it will give him something to fight for.”
“If you say so.” I shook my head, shrugging as I reached out for the square of fabric.
“Don’t you want to put some wrapping around it?”
“Do you have any wrapping? Because I don’t.”
“No, I guess you’re right.”
She folded it up and handed it to me. I slipped it in my bag; knowing whatever else was in my handbag would smell for weeks after that night.
“There.” Claire stuck the last pin in my hair. “I’m all done. You look perfect. So pretty.”
“Do you want us to walk into town with you?” Isabella lay back down on the bed, rolling over on her side.
“No, I think I’ll be fine alone. It’s not far.”
While it wasn’t far and there was no need for the girls to walk with me, there was another reason I wanted to go into town alone. The more I thought about an evening with William, the more my stomach fluttered, and I didn’t need them chatting on mindlessly as I struggled inside with the thoughts of what I would say to him tonight.
Conversation was never hard for us. We could sit at a table or take a walk and never stop talking. However, the thought of being alone with him now suddenly had my mind in a tizzy, and I didn’t know why.
My teeth chattered as I made my way through the snow. Another layer of fresh white powder rested along the lane, covering up our footprints from last night or any tracks anyone had left this morning. Not a long walk, but certainly not a short one while in heels with snow. The cold caused my breath to haze around me as I walked the last bit, finally making it into town.
“Happy Christmas,” a man said as he passed me. He tipped his hat.
“Happy Christmas.”
The sun dipped a little in the sky as I weaved through the different buildings. Only a few of the businesses remained opened while most closed because of the war. Whether because the owners when off to fight for their king and country or had already died, their boarded-up windows brought a desperate feeling to the streets. The war had changed so much, leaving most of it feeling abandoned.
I opened the door to the pub and stepped inside. The Christmas tree still stood in the corner, and the light from the door reflected off the tinsel dangling from the branches. While the pub was open, William was the only patron in the joint, and he spun in the chair as I entered, giving me a smile.
He rose to his feet as I made my way through the tables over to him. “Happy Christmas,” he said.
“Happy Christmas.”
“I was going to order you a pint, but I didn’t want it to get warm while I waited.”
“It’s all right. I’m not sure I could drink one right now.” I patted my stomach, then sat down at the table across from him.
“Had one too many last night?”
“Well, I only had one, so no, it wasn’t too many. But I skipped the fish paste Bea served this afternoon so . . .”
He scrunched his face. “Fish
paste? I would have passed on it, too.”
“You mean they don’t serve fish paste in the Army?”
He laughed. “No. It’s probably a good thing they don’t, too. They might have a revolt on their hands.” He paused for a minute, then continued. “We can go get something to eat, if you like. I had planned on it. Isn’t there a café just down the lane?”
I nodded. “Yes, a decent one, too. Even with the ration coupons, it’s a pretty good plate of spam and mash.”
“Ah, spam—one of the few good things coming out of America right now. Bloody yanks. They are supposed to be our allies, and yet, they haven’t joined the war and haven’t sent us any weapons. I suppose the food supplies are helpful, but we need more than that.” William growled under his breath and took a sip of his beer.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand war. Don’t understand why it happens or the reasons for it.”
“We are protecting King and Country from the Germans.”
“No, I know you are, and I understand that. I don’t understand Hitler and his need for power and to destroy other countries or do what he is doing to the Jews.”
“I don’t think anyone understands him. Unless they are people who think like him.”
We both stared at each other for a moment before I smiled. “Change the subject?”
He snorted a breath through his nose, and his shoulders softened. “Please.”
“How is your mum?”
“She’s good. She’s worried. But she’s good. Have you been able to get word to your family?”
“Not yet. They cut all communication lines and aren’t allowing letters in or out. I’ve been told the Red Cross is trying, but they have yet to hold any luck.”
“I’m sure they are alive and well.” He arched one eyebrow. “And I’m sure . . . what is his name?”
“Henry?”
“Henry. I’m sure Henry is alive and well, too.”
“Well, I hope that they all are.”
William’s head jerked a bit. “It sounds as though there is a but in there somewhere.”
“No, no, but. I just . . . Well, I hope he is alive and well, but . . . I guess there was a but. I suppose I hope he has also found some happiness . . . with someone.”
“You don’t wish for him to wait for you?”
“Not anymore.”
“What changed?”
“Me, I suppose. I miss my family and Guernsey will always be my home. But it’s my childhood home. I wish to remain in England after the war is over. I want to go to university and study and find a position at a paper in or near London. The Davenports have already offered for me to stay with them any time I need, and, although I don’t make much money as a land girl, I’ve been saving everything. Isabella and even Claire have had their pay docked for spilled milk or broken eggs. I haven’t, though.” I snorted another laugh.
“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised. Although, I hoped you would find you wanted to stay. I think you will do great. Any newspaper in London will be lucky to have you.”
“I’ve also been writing a book too. About being an evacuee from Guernsey and then becoming a land girl. I’m hoping a publisher might want to publish it.”
“They would be daft not to.” He held up his nearly gone beer. “To the soon-to-be published writer.”
“Don’t curse me by talking about it before it has happened.” We both laughed as I brushed my hand down his arm, feeling the wool of his uniform jacket against my palm and fingertips.
My touch silenced him, and his smile vanished.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I’ve just missed seeing you every day.”
I shrugged. “The base isn’t that far from the farm. My hours in the spring and summer make time off hard, however, in the winter, we have more free time.”
“That would be great if I hadn’t received orders this morning.”
“Orders for what?”
“I leave Stubton on New Year’s Day, to another training camp for the last month of my training.”
“For where?”
He leaned forward, grabbing his beer glass with both of his hands. He shifted his eyes from me, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
His words twisted in my stomach. “What are you hiding from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything. I’m a soldier, Amelia, and a soldier in the middle of a bloody war. It doesn’t matter where I go; the end is always the same. After my training is up, then my regiment joins the fight.”
I sucked in a breath as images of him hunkered down in a trench while bombs pummeled the ground around him flashed through my mind. I didn’t want to think of him wounded or dead. Didn’t want to imagine opening the same devastating letter Ethel received, telling her that her husband was dead. Even if William wasn’t my husband, he was still a friend, and one I wished to have long after this war.
“I have something for you,” I blurted out, grabbing my handbag from the tabletop. “It’s not much, but since it’s Christmas.”
“What is it?”
I unclipped my handbag and withdrew the small piece of pink satin. The scent of the perfume radiated around it.
“It’s probably stupid, really. Isabella told me to give it to you.” I handed it to him. “To remind you of me when you are . . . out there . . . fighting the Germans.”
He took the cloth. “That’s quite the scent.”
“That’s what I said.”
“It’s also Isabella’s scent. She always wore it to school.”
“I said that, too. That’s why she put it on me tonight. I’m surprised you couldn’t smell it.”
“Oh, I could. From the moment you walked through the door. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought you’d worn so much to cover up the scent of the farm.”
We both laughed again for a moment before he settled down.
“But I will keep it and I will think of you.” He tucked it in his jacket pocket, blinking for a few minutes before removing it and putting it down in his pants pocket instead. “I think it will be better here.”
“Strong, huh?”
“It was burning my eyes, actually.”
I leaned back in my chair, roaring with laughter. “Perhaps you can air it out whenever you are outside.”
“I don’t know if that would even help.” He chugged the last of his beer, setting the glass down as his eyes met mine. His face, although soft, hinted at a more serious tone. “Do you think you can get away from the farm on New Year’s Eve? I’d love to see you before I go.”
“Yeah. I think I can arrange it.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Amelia - December 1940
The girls and I wasted no time in getting ready and making our way down to the pub for New Year’s Eve. Even trudging through another layer of snow, we hurried along, chatting about our hopes and dreams for 1941.
“Do you think we will finally win the war?” Claire asked. Her breath clouded around her face.
“I hope so.”
“Well, I hope we do. I don’t know if I can take another year of this place.” Isabella wrapped her scarf a little tighter around her neck as she rubbed her hands together.
“I thought this was supposed to be your grand adventure.” I laughed, nudging her in the shoulder with mine.
“Adventure, my fanny. I didn’t think it would be so much work.” She heaved a deep sigh. “I suppose it’s not all bad. And I met John.”
“And I met Andrew,” Claire said, glancing at Isabella around me. “I can’t believe we met cousins. Can you imagine if we both marry them? We will be related.”
“Only by marriage.” Although her words were more of a snub in meaning, she said them with disappointment instead of in a snobbish way.
“True. But related is related. We will have the same last name.”
We continued along until we reached town, then meandered through the streets until we reached the pub. By the time we opened the door and made our way in
side, my feet were frozen, and my hands felt like ice.
The cousins and William were already waiting for us, sitting at a table while they chatted with several beers in front of them. John and Andrew saw us first, and they jumped to their feet, whistling as we weaved through the crowd over to them.
William also stood and gave me a tight hug. “You look beautiful,” he said, pulling away from me. “Though, that’s not to say you didn’t the other two nights we’ve been here.” He motioned for me to sit. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered you a pint.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you.”
“So . . . New Year’s Eve, and tomorrow is 1941. Can you believe it?”
“No, I can’t.”
“What do you think will happen this next year?”
“I have no idea. There is so much turmoil and pain, and everything can change so fast. I suppose while I don’t know what will happen, I can hope whatever comes is good.”
He eyed me for a moment, then smiled. “I think it will be.”
Just as they had several nights ago, the four with us left the table with dancing on their mind. It wasn’t long before William and I joined them, and he twirled me around to a couple of songs before we collapsed back in our seats, out of breath and needing something to quench the parchment in our throats.
“At least we know one thing is for sure,” he said.
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“We have tonight to enjoy all we want.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
We clanked our glasses together, toasting to the notion of celebrating the night and having the best time we could. We both watched our friends continue to spin around the dance floor with everyone else in the pub, before we soon joined them, again dancing for several songs with several kicks as we continued to jive our way through the hours closer and closer to midnight.
It wasn’t until everyone was ready for a break that William grabbed my hand and cocked his head toward the door. “Will you come outside with me? Just for a bit of fresh air.”
Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1) Page 26