The Grafton Girls

by Annie Groves

  ‘Interviewed – to marry a ruddy GI?’ Mel cut in, outraged. ‘That just shows what this country’s coming to. I’ve said all along that the Yanks act like they’re doing us a favour by being here and now you’re saying that you’ve got to go and be inspected before they’ll let you marry one of them.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Ruthie told her pacifically. ‘Glen explained it all to me. It’s because the army doesn’t want the men to jump into marriages because they’re overseas and alone, and then wish that they hadn’t, so we both have to see his CO together so that he can make sure that we know what we’re doing.

  ‘Oh, and did I tell you, Jess, that I’ve had the loveliest letter from Glen’s sister, telling me how much she’s looking forward to meeting me and saying that she’s always longed for a sister?’ Tears filled Ruthie’s eyes. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am. It’s like a dream come true, and when I think that, but for you, Jess, I’d never have met Glen in the first place.’

  ‘So when do you have to go and have this inspection, then?’ Mel asked.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. Glen has put in a request to his CO and now we have to wait for him to tell Glen when he will see us.’

  ‘Aye, well, you’d better hope he sees you before this second front happens that everyone’s going on about, otherwise your Glen could find himself oversees and you left here without a wedding ring.’

  ‘Oh, no! You don’t really think that could happen, do you?’ Ruthie protested, white-faced.

  Jess shook her head. ‘She’s only winding you up, Ruthie. Mind you, she does have a point, so no anticipating them wedding vows or your wedding night, you think on. Just in case…’

  Ruthie immediately went bright red and protested, ‘Glen would never ask me to do anything like that.’

  The other girls exchanged looks.

  ‘Give over,’ Mel objected bluntly. ‘We all saw the way he was looking at you at the Grafton. I reckon he’d have carried you off to bed then if he thought he could have got away with it.’

  When Ruthie struggled for the right thing to say, Mel carried on firmly, ‘There’s no call to look like that about it, anyway. There’s nowt wrong wi’ a lass and a lad feeling like that for each other. In fact, it seems to me that there’s more likely summat wrong when they don’t. Even doing it’s OK once you’re engaged, but you’ve got to make sure you don’t get caught out and left up the spout…You mustn’t let him get you pregnant,’ she explained in exasperation when Ruthie looked blankly at her. ‘And if he tells you that you won’t if you do it standing up then tell him to get lost, ’cos that doesn’t work. At least not according to my cousin Alison. A friend of hers got caught that way and left with the kid when her chap did a runner.’

  ‘What are you going to do about your frock? Only you can’t get them for love nor money unless you know someone who’s got one?’ Jess interrupted, seeing the mortified look on Ruthie’s face.

  ‘The Red Cross are lending out wedding dresses to girls who are marrying GIs,’ Ruthie told her happily. ‘We’ll have to go and look together, seeing as you’re going to be my bridesmaid.’

  Jess gave her a wan smile and tried to appear enthusiastic. She wouldn’t have hurt Ruthie’s feelings for the world, but the truth was that she had felt her heart sink a little when Ruthie had told her that Glen had asked Walter to be his best man. Naturally that meant the two of them would be paired up at the wedding, especially with everyone thinking that she and Walter were a couple, but the truth was…Jess bit down hard into her bottom lip. She wasn’t prepared to admit even to herself exactly what the truth was. She liked Walter – of course she did – but she had been more relieved than disappointed when Walter had told her during their first dance about the girl he was in love with ‘back home’.

  Mind, it might be for the best if folk did continue to think that she and Walter were together. She knew one person who wouldn’t hesitate to make fun of her if he thought that Walter had dropped her. Not that she cared what Billy thought, of course. But she wasn’t going to have him thinking that she couldn’t get herself a chap if she wanted to. Not with him always showing off about the number of girls that fell for him. They wouldn’t be falling for him if he went and blew himself up, though, would they?

  ‘And Glen says that there’s no need for us to worry about the food for the wedding breakfast, because the US Army will provide that,’ Ruthie chattered happily to Maureen without taking her attention off the shells she was filling.

  ‘Oh, do stop going on about your ruddy wedding, will you? Me ears are aching with hearing about it,’ Maureen told her rudely, before adding, ‘Anyway, it’s that Jess you should be going on about it to, since she’s the one as will be your bridesmaid.’

  Concern clouded Ruthie’s gaze. ‘I asked you as well,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘You know I did.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you asked me all right, but that was only because you felt you had to. Anyone could see that.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Ruthie protested, even though a part of her knew that was the truth.

  ‘Besides, how do you think I’d be feeling, wi’ ’er,’ she jerked her head in Jess’s direction, ‘there wi’ her fancy GI chap, and me there on me own, especially when it comes to the dancing?’

  ‘It won’t be like that. Glen will be inviting his friends and I’m sure they will be delighted to dance with you.’

  ‘Oh, I see, so that’s it, is it? You only want me there on account of your Glen’s friends needing a dance partner. Well, like I’ve already told you, if you really was my friend like you said you were going to be, I’d be the only one you’d want as your bridesmaid.’

  Ruthie tried not to feel upset by Maureen’s antagonistic comments. It was true that her first choice had been Jess. Jess had been responsible for her meeting Glen and had been so kind to her, unlike Maureen, who was possessive and made her uneasy sometimes, even though she felt guilty for doing so.

  She said gently, ‘I really do want you to be one of my bridesmaids, Maureen.’

  ‘Well, you can want all you like because I’m not. It’s all right for you, talking about borrowing frocks and that from the Red Cross, but you’ll have to pay to borrow them, you mark my words, and there’s no way I can afford that kind of thing. Not with me having to help at home.’

  Guilty colour burned up under Ruthie’s skin. Oh dear! How insensitive of her not to have thought of that. No wonder Maureen was so cross with her.

  ‘I wouldn’t have expected you to pay out anything,’ she hurried to assure her. ‘I would have paid for the frock.’

  ‘Oh, well…maybe I’ll think about it then, but I’m not saying that I’ll do it, mind. Just that I’ll think about it.’

  NINETEEN

  August already, the month Kit had proposed to Diane, and the month they had planned to marry this year. But at least there was one patch of blue about to break through her otherwise miserably grey unhappiness. The major, or ‘Lee’, as she was finally beginning to think of him, had told her yesterday that he thought another few days would see an end to his inspection of potential billets. And that meant she would see an end to having to work with him. And nothing would please her more than that, she told herself, as she struggled to confine her normally obedient hair into a businesslike chignon, and envying the young mother she could see from her bedroom window, free to wear a cool summer frock, whilst she was obliged to wear a thick heavy uniform.

  ‘You haven’t forgotten that you said you’d lend me your silk blouse, have you?’ Myra demanded, emerging from the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. ‘Only it’s this coming weekend that I’m off to London.’

  ‘No, I have forgotten,’ Diane replied quietly.

  ‘All right, I know you don’t approve of what I’m doing,’ Myra told her angrily, ‘but it’s my life, and no one is going to stop me. And before you start going on about me having a husband, well – not that it’s any of your business – I’ve written to Jim telling him that I’m going to America
with Nick, whether or not he gives me a divorce, so he might as well make up his mind to giving me one.’

  Diane forced herself not to let her face betray how appalled she was by Myra’s callous action in sending that kind of letter to a man who was fighting in the desert for his country. Instead she warned her quietly, ‘You might find it isn’t going to be as easy to go back with Nick as you think. From what I’ve heard, the American authorities are clamping down on British girls trying to marry GIs so that they can go back to America with them after the war is over.’

  ‘Oh, that’s typical of you. You’re just saying that because you disapprove of me being with Nick because I’m married. Well, for your information, me and Nick have already talked about that, ’cos I can read a newspaper as well as the next person, and Nick’s told me not to pay any attention to any of that. He says it’s all a load of rubbish, and that there won’t be any difficulties, especially with him having the right kind of contacts. Besides, with his family having their own business in New York, there’ll be no problem with the money side of things. Set up for life, I’m going to be, just you wait and see,’ Myra finished with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘If I was you I’d start looking round for a GI of you own,’ she added. ‘And not a married one like that major.’

  ‘I’m working with the major, that’s all,’ Diane reminded her sharply. She hated how working at Derby House meant everyone knew everything a person was doing. Living and working with Myra meant there was no escape.

  ‘I reckon the US Army really knows how to treat people. Nick gets paid five times as much as a British soldier,’ Myra boasted, ignoring her comment.

  Diane’s mouth tightened.

  ‘Nick gets an eight-day furlough every six or seven months and no messing. Like as not the next time we go away it will be more than for just a weekend. And the American Army is putting on special trains for its troops so that they can visit London on their weekend pass outs.’

  ‘But you won’t be able to travel on that with him,’ Diane pointed out.

  ‘That’s all you know. Nick’s had a word with someone he knows who owes him a favour and he’s got me a seat. The train goes from Lime Street tomorrow dinnertime and we’re meeting up for a drink first.’

  Diane had finally got her hair into its chignon and, as she slid in the last of her precious store of grips, she turned to look at Myra. She didn’t like passing on gossip, but Myra’s own boastful comments about what Nick could do seemed to confirm at least to some extent what Jean had told Diane. Myra wouldn’t take kindly to any criticism of him, Diane knew, but her own conscience was still urging her to warn the other girl.

  ‘The kind of favours Nick seems to be able to call in aren’t given for nothing, Myra,’ she told her quietly.

  ‘Meaning what, exactly?’ Myra demanded, bristling.

  Diane took a deep breath. ‘I have heard that Nick could be involved in some pretty dishonest stuff.’

  ‘You mean a bit of dabbling on the black market?’ Myra challenged her, tossing her head. ‘Is that supposed to put me off?’ She laughed. ‘Good luck to him, is what I say.’

  Myra’s attitude told Diane that there was no point in her saying anything more.

  ‘That silk blouse of yours…?’ Myra was repeating.

  Repressing a small sigh, Diane opened the wardrobe door and removed her best blouse from its padded hanger.

  Bright sunshine bouncing off the pavement made Diane grateful for the fact that her mother had insisted on loaning her her precious pair of pre-war sunglasses. She stood waiting for the major to arrive. Her experience of the first day she had worked for him had taught her to make sure she always made herself some sandwiches to take with her, carefully preserving the precious greaseproof paper in which they were wrapped to reuse each day.

  Today’s sandwiches were tomato with a thin shaving of cheese, but she considered herself lucky to have a landlady with access to an allotment.

  ‘Off out with the handsome major again today, Di?’ Jean grinned as she hurried across the road towards her. ‘Phew, it’s hot,’ she added, removing her cap. ‘I’m not sure whether I should thank you or curse you for giving me this thing,’ she added, touching the roll Diane had given her for her hair. ‘My hair looks better, but it’s dreadfully uncomfortable in this heat, and it’s making me itch like mad. Oh ho, here’s the major now, you lucky thing,’ she grinned enviously.

  Giving her a brief smile, Diane stepped forward, hurrying round to the passenger door of the Jeep, but as always the major was there before her, holding the door open for her. Today, like her, he was wearing a pair of sunglasses – aviators, she had heard the airmen calling them – and something about the darkness of the lenses added an extra strength to his air of command. Sometimes she felt that this small act of his of managing to open the Jeep door for her before she could get out by herself had become a silent but fiercely fought battle between the two of them, and a battle in which he had the unfair advantage of longer and more powerfully muscled legs. But winning the skirmish of who could get to the door first didn’t mean that he would win the war, Diane told herself. She had her own battle tactics, one of which was to thank him with freezing politeness and then ignore him, thus, she hoped, making it plain to him that as service personnel she did not welcome being treated to his American gallantry. His wife might enjoy his acting as though she were as delicate as a piece of rare china, but she, Diane, was different. His wife? Why was she comparing herself to her?

  To punish herself for this weakness, Diane refused to allow herself to look at him, sitting face forward and bolt upright in her seat until she heard him exhale and say drily, ‘I thought it was a stiff upper lip you Brits were supposed to have.’

  Now she had to turn to look at him. ‘It is,’ she agreed coolly.

  ‘Then relax. The way you’re sitting right now is making my spine ache, never mind what it must be doing to yours. These Jeeps aren’t the most comfortable things to ride in. Or is this another way to prove how superior a tough Brit is to us mollycoddled Yanks?’

  He was laughing at her, Diane recognised, and the truth was that she could feel her own lips wanting to curve into a responsive smile, but of course she couldn’t let them. That would be giving in, although she wasn’t sure she knew what exactly it would be giving in to, other than her own dangerous desire to let herself enjoy his company.

  ‘OK, let’s get this show on the road,’ he said. ‘We’re going to be heading out towards Knutsford today, home of the late Mrs Gaskell.’

  Diane shot him a surprised look.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he queried. ‘Surprised that an ignorant Yank knows about a British writer?’

  ‘No,’ Diane denied. ‘If I was surprised it was because I would have thought that Knutsford is a fair distance from Burtonwood.’

  ‘Uncle Sam’s orders are that the top brass mustn’t risk their necks by bunking down too close to the airfield, just in case Hitler decides to come over and drop a few bombs on them,’ he told her lightly, but Diane knew that he was not deceived by her answer and that she had been surprised by his reference to Mrs Gaskell. Why was it that he kept on managing to catch her out and make her look, if not stupid, then certainly prejudiced?

  ‘What will you do when this is all over, Diane?’

  His question startled her. They never discussed anything that wasn’t ‘business’, and this was the first personal question he had asked her.

  ‘I…I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I haven’t really thought about it. What about you? What did you do before you were conscripted?’

  ‘Drafted, we call it, not conscripted, but I wasn’t drafted. I’m a career soldier. I joined the army straight out of high school. My dad had been a farmer. It’s a tough life and in the end it killed my mother, then him. They lost everything in the Depression. My mom died of hard work and lack of money, and my dad died of shame because of it.’

  His voice was clipped and low, empty of emotion, but Diane knew better than to belie
ve that he wasn’t feeling any. She had known too many men use the same defence mechanism -including Kit.

  ‘Joining the army was my way out,’ he told her. ‘It was the best decision I’ve ever made. The army’s the most important thing in my life.’

  ‘Apart from your wife,’ Diane murmured.

  The look he shot her made her heart slam into her ribs.

  ‘You’re putting words into my mouth that I didn’t speak,’ he told her curtly. ‘Career soldiers shouldn’t marry.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ Diane objected. ‘You can’t mean that.’

  ‘Why not? If my wife were here she’d tell you straight that the worst thing she ever did was marry a soldier. Hell, she’s told me often enough, and anyone else who will listen. If a soldier does marry then it should be a woman who understands what the army means to him and accepts that, not a—’ He broke off, his mouth compressing so grimly that Diane guessed he had said far more than he had intended.

  Well, his silence now suited her, because she certainly didn’t want to discuss his marriage with him, or start exchanging cosy stories of love affairs gone wrong.

  An hour later, when the major still hadn’t broken the silence between them, Diane acknowledged that if she had wanted to find a way to get under his skin she had certainly succeeded, but then she had noticed that he had become increasingly snappy and irritable with her over the last couple of days. Because he couldn’t wait to get rid of her? So what if he did feel like that? She didn’t care. After all, she felt exactly the same way about him, didn’t she?