Izzy's War

by Isla Dewar

  Earthbound and Loveless

  ‘LOOK AT YOU,’ said Elspeth. ‘You’re glowing. And you’re quite smug. Are you having an affair?

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ said Izzy.

  ‘Only to me. I know how apologetic you usually look. Is it your American friend?’

  Izzy nodded.

  ‘God,’ said Elspeth. ‘You’re glowing more just remembering him.’

  Izzy looked away, trying to hide her face. She felt it was glowing out of control.

  ‘You’re in love,’ said Elspeth. ‘About time, too. Your social life so far has been a disgrace.’

  ‘I love my job. I didn’t want a social life,’ said Izzy. ‘This affair just happened. It crept up on me when I wasn’t looking.’

  Elspeth said that was how it was with love. She was sitting on the hotel bed wrapped in a towel after her first bath of the weekend. ‘What I resent is you abandoning me for your boyfriend. Women do that. They get all wrapped up in love, give themselves over to their boyfriends and forget about their friends.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten you. It’s hard to get away when you only get two days off in every thirteen.’

  ‘How do you manage to see Jimmy?’

  Izzy said that if she wasn’t working, and he was, she’d go to see him. ‘I stay at a bed and breakfast. Then if I’m working and he isn’t, he stays at the cottage. I see him when I get home.’

  Elspeth stood up, dropped the towel and started to dress. Izzy looked away. Naked bodies embarrassed her. Elspeth had been living, washing, sleeping in intensely close quarters to other women for so long she no longer had any inhibitions about being seen without her clothes. Well, that was her summertime routine. When winter rolled round, she behaved differently. It was cold. She even went to bed pretty much fully clothed, then undressed under the blankets.

  ‘I didn’t know it would be like this,’ said Izzy. ‘That I could find myself thinking about someone all of the time. Looking at the phone, willing it to ring. Hoping for a letter. Remembering things we’d done together. Planning what I’m going to say to him. I find myself sighing all the time. It’s driving me crazy.’

  ‘Does he feel the same?’ asked Elspeth.

  Izzy shrugged. She didn’t know. ‘We don’t talk about how we feel. Mostly we just . . . you know. There isn’t a lot of time for chat.’

  Elspeth said, ‘Careful, Izzy.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘I am going to get hurt. It’s inevitable. If I break with him now, I’ll get hurt. If I leave it till the war ends and he goes back to America, I’ll get hurt. So there’s no point in telling me to be careful.’

  This was the third time she’d been told to be careful and she didn’t like it at all. All she wanted to do was fly and make love, what was wrong with that? One day the war would end, Jimmy would go home, she’d be out of a job, earthbound and loveless. Meantime she planned to enjoy herself and to hell with being careful. ‘Let’s go eat dinner,’ she said.

  They didn’t talk much as they ate. Izzy was thinking about Jimmy. Elspeth was watching her and regretting the rough life she was living. She missed simple private things – making toast when she fancied a slice, lying alone in bed reading, soaking in a bath. She ate, washed, worked and slept in the company of other women. Sometimes, she just wanted to be alone. She ached. She thought she smelled of horses and pine resin. She cursed herself for getting ecstatic about an orange. How pathetic, she thought.

  Izzy’s affair was being conducted in the softness of a bedroom. Hers was an outdoor fling. She made love in the forest or lying on the grass by the river. Pleasant enough, but wouldn’t it be lovely to slip into bed with a lover? Oh, the comfort of it. Izzy and her love ate at the local hotel. She ate trout with her fingers straight from a frying pan – though, it was tasty. It struck Elspeth that for the first time in their long friendship, she was jealous of Izzy. She hated herself for that, but couldn’t help it.

  After dinner, they went for a walk. The place was busy as usual – thronging pub and the air vibrating with the thrum and skirl of the dance band in the village hall. Elspeth asked if Izzy wanted to go in. ‘A quick whirl round the floor, a waltz and a jive might be fun.’

  Izzy shook her head. ‘I don’t really like dances. I can’t dance. And it’s too noisy in there.’

  Elspeth shrugged and said, ‘Whatever. Just thought it would be a laugh.’

  They strolled down to the river and sat on a bench beside the water. It was nine o’clock, still light, swallows skimmed overhead. Izzy watched them.

  ‘You wish you were up there, don’t you?’ said Elspeth.

  ‘I’m happy when I’m flying,’ said Izzy. ‘I feel anything is possible when I’m up there. I sing to myself and I sound fine, not out of tune at all. I do believe that if I took a piano up there, I could play it.’

  Elspeth snorted. ‘Izzy, tone-deaf is tone-deaf, here on the ground or one mile up in the sky.’

  Izzy said she supposed so, but somehow things seemed more possible when she was up among the clouds. ‘I owe you so much,’ she said. ‘You’re the one who got me flying in the first place.’

  ‘You owe me nothing,’ said Elspeth. ‘Even if you did, you’ve paid me back many times over with all the stuff you send me. How do you get all that, anyway? Don’t you need coupons?’

  Last week Izzy had sent Elspeth a tin of pears, a bag of sweets and a jar of cold cream. ‘Well,’ said Izzy, ‘I don’t always need coupons.’ She was still riding high in local esteem and her ration book had been waved away. All that, and she was still Edith the ops officer’s darling. Edith had arranged for Izzy to hitch a lift on a plane going from Preston all the way to Lossiemouth. Tomorrow, she’d been promised a ride from Lossiemouth to Prestwick and, from there, a flight to Preston. Edith had arranged for the taxi Anson to bring her back to Skimpton. Izzy was wondering if she didn’t owe Jacob after all. He had, indeed, helped to make her a heroine.

  She was about to confess to Elspeth, tell her why her coupons weren’t always taken by the local shop, but was distracted by rustlings in the bushes behind them. There were sounds of passion in progress.

  Izzy sighed. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to sneak off into the undergrowth to satisfy my lust. I like my love in bed in comfort under the blankets.’

  This was the wrong thing to say to Elspeth. ‘Some of us don’t have that option. You may find it coarse, but love under the stars can be wonderful.’ She got up and started back to the hotel. It was time for a second bath.

  They didn’t speak much for the rest of Izzy’s visit. When, in the morning, they were standing at the bus stop waiting for the bus to take Izzy back to Inverness, Izzy asked Elspeth if she was speaking to her. ‘You seem distant.’

  ‘Of course I’m speaking to you. It’s just your remark about outdoor love touched a nerve. For some of us outdoors is the only place for love. I don’t have access to a private bed. I sleep in a dormitory with a lot of other women. If I had a man in my bed, they’d notice the squeaks of bedsprings and the grunts and moans of passion.’

  Izzy apologised. ‘I didn’t think.’

  Elspeth said, ‘I know.’ She was contemplating her day. Cycle back to the camp, sweep out hut, wash socks and underwear in the ablutions hut, eat disgusting food. Izzy would fly home, where Mrs Brent did her laundry, she’d have a proper bath, eat a decent meal, sit on a comfortable sofa, sleep in a decent soft bed. There’s no denying it, Elspeth thought, I’m really jealous.

  On the flight south, Izzy sat behind the pilot. She looked down at the forest, miles and miles of treetops, miles and miles of green. Elspeth was down there somewhere. It occurred to Izzy that it should be the other way round. Elspeth should be up here, and she, who had succeeded at nothing before this, should be trudging the forest paths, axe over her shoulder, aching from all the physical labour, eating carrot sandwiches. It’s all I’m really good for, she thought.

  Ten minutes
later, she saw a small cluster of houses below, smoke drifting from chimneys, roofs glinting in the sunlight. ‘That’s the village where I grew up,’ said Izzy.

  ‘Want to go down and say hello?’ asked the pilot. He circled, swooped low.

  ‘Look,’ said Izzy. ‘There’s the manse where I lived. And, that’s my dad.’

  They cruised lower. Buzzed over the garden. Izzy’s father, busy planting peas, stood up, put his palm in the small of his back to ease the pain of bending into the ground. The plane whooshed overhead, thundered, the roar deafening. He shook his fist at it. Izzy giggled.

  As they cruised away, climbing back into the clouds, she looked back. She saw her mother emerge from the back door, shade her eyes with her hand and gaze after them.

  ‘They’ll be wondering what that was about,’ said the pilot. ‘You’ll have to let them know it was you.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Izzy. But she knew she couldn’t do that.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The Bathing Belle

  PEOPLE ADOPTED A certain nonchalant walk when they emerged from the woods after lovemaking. Elspeth had noticed this. The men would stroll, hands in pockets. Sometimes they’d whistle. They’d look down at their boots, kick stones, assume an air of casual indifference. The women would twirl a sprig of heather in their fingers, gaze down at it as if it was a specimen of dramatic interest. They’d look about them, smiling slightly, feigning innocence. Though their cheeks would be flushed and their eyes still glazed with pleasure.

  Elspeth did this herself when she and Tyler returned to the camp after one of their bouts of passion. The pair of them tried to look as if they’d just enjoyed a healthy evening ramble and an interesting debate on the joys of nature.

  At first the pair had always gone to their spot, the shady green dell by the river where evening deer came to drink. Recently, Tyler had suggested they find other places to pursue their rapture. ‘I hate routine. I hate going to the same place all the time. Let’s explore. We’ll have secret spots. Then when we leave we’ll have made love under so many trees, the whole forest will be ours and full of our passion.’

  It sounded so romantic, Elspeth agreed. Once, he led her out of the forest and to the top of a hill. The view was stunning, treetops, and, in the distance, the rooftops of a village twelve miles away. It had been windy, so they’d found shelter behind a boulder. The sex wasn’t spectacular, as the long hike had tired them both. Other times, they’d lie under trees thirty or forty years tall. Elspeth loved this. She loved taking her clothes off out there, the soft air on her skin. She loved his lips on her neck, she loved his kisses. And she loved the feel of him on her and the blissful intensity of moving towards a moment of ecstasy.

  She’d open her eyes and see above her a lacework of treetops, small birds chittering in among the branches, shafts of sunlight streaming down – the forest as a cathedral. Why, she thought, this is almost holy.

  Tyler would turn to her, stroke her cheek. ‘We’re getting quite good at this.’ Elspeth said it only took practice. While she was practising, she forgot to be jealous of Izzy and Izzy’s comforts. This was fun.

  The good side of all this was that the original secret spot, that had once been their spot, now belonged to Elspeth alone. It was where she went swimming on the evenings she didn’t go thrill-seeking with Tyler.

  The days were hot now. As she ran back and forth-slapping Harry on her rump, jumping over tree stumps and bracken, Elspeth would comfort herself with thoughts of water. Soon, she would go down to the river. She’d take off her boots and socks, feel the grass between her toes. Then she’d strip. She’d spread her arms into the evening, let the air spread over her whole body. She’d slip into the river, waiting for that moment when its chill would hit her chest and make her gasp. She’d swim slowly up and down, push herself below the surface, skim along, hair streaming behind her, then burst up into the sunlight, shaking her head, sending sparks of water scattering round her. This thought kept her going as she sweated and puffed, and worked at her new sixty-logs-a-day quota.

  Tonight was especially good. A parcel had arrived from Izzy. It had contained three tins of condensed milk, a tin of pears, two bars of soap, two bars of chocolate and a copy of Woman’s Own. Lorna had seized the magazine and settled on her bed to read it. ‘It’s good to know there’s still a world out there.’

  The letter from Izzy had said that one day she’d tell Elspeth the full silly story of how she managed to get these treats without using up any ration coupons. ‘Just enjoy everything.’

  Elspeth put the box under her bed beside her accordion, took a bar of chocolate and her towel and headed for the river. Chocolate and a swim, this was as close to heaven as she was going to get, until the war ended and she could escape this place.

  When she arrived, she put her towel and chocolate on a tree stump. Then she peeled off her boots and shoes. She stood up to unfasten the straps of her dungarees, and looked round. Trees were swaying, a breeze gusting. There were soft whisperings, leaves moving against leaves. She thought there were deer about, waiting for her to leave so they could come to the river. ‘Me first,’ she called. ‘Then you can have your drink.’

  She took off her clothes. Before she got into the water, she broke the chocolate bar in two, and took one half into the river with her. She stepped from the bank, waded out to midstream, holding the chocolate high above her head. She swam on her back, kicking up a fountain as she went. Chocolate melting in her mouth. She flipped over and struck out for the riverbed, trailed her hand over stones, looked for fish, though she never saw any. Then she pushed herself upwards and broke the surface, shaking her head, heaving in air.

  The wolf whistle was long, deep and wild. It split the air. Elspeth crossed her arms over her breasts, looked round. Nobody. ‘Tyler?’ she called.

  There were whisperings, the sound of many people trying to silence one person, an almighty ‘Ssshh . . .’ Elspeth waded back to the bank, hurrying was hard. Another whistle. Then many, many people whistling, a cacophony of shouts, cheers, applause and deeply appreciative whistles. Elspeth clambered onto the grass and scuttled to her towel, which she wrapped round herself.

  When she looked up, forty or fifty Newfies emerged from hiding places behind trees. They were all yelling, clapping, and shouting her name, many had brought bottles of beer to swig as they enjoyed the show. ‘Elspeth, Elspeth. Give’s a kiss, Elspeth.’

  Elspeth shouted, ‘Bastards! Bloody bastards! Filthy scum!’

  Which only made her audience cheer harder.

  ‘Come up here, Elspeth. I’ve got something to show ya,’ someone hollered.

  ‘Bugger off, all of you.’ She yanked her knickers over her damp body, wriggled into her shirt and dungarees, shoved on her boots, stuck her socks into her pocket, picked up her towel and chocolate bar and stumped back up the path. ‘Bastards, bastards!’ she shouted. ‘You can’t let a woman have some fun, can you?’

  Tyler was waiting at the stables. Elspeth steamed up to him and slapped his face. ‘Arse,’ she said. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’

  He nodded. Rubbing the stinging cheek. ‘It was just a spot of fun.’

  ‘That’s why you didn’t want to go there. You knew they’d be watching. But you let me put on a show.’

  ‘They’re men. They don’t get to see a woman these days.’

  ‘Well, that’s the last time they’ll see me. Did you organise this?’

  He shook his head. ‘I just found out about it. You were safe, though. I said they could look but they couldn’t touch.’

  ‘You won’t be touching, either. Not now.’

  ‘Aaw, Elspeth, don’t be like that.’

  She started to walk away.

  ‘C’mon, Elspeth. It was just a bit of fun. There’s not a lot to do round here.’

  She turned and said that it hadn’t been fun for her. ‘I’ve been humiliated.’

  He shrugged. He was proud of Elspeth. She was clever, witty, could play the accordion and th
e physical work in the forest had made her body lean and strong. He’d enjoyed other men lusting over her. He’d been showing her off.

  She told him he was an oaf. She never wanted to see him again. This, she knew, would be hard, considering they were both working in the same part of the forest, and he was living in a hut several yards up the track from hers. Still, she could always turn her back. She walked away, head in the air, reminding herself to look dignified.

  ‘Don’t be like this,’ Tyler said.

  Elspeth shouted, ‘Huh!’

  ‘Marry me,’ Tyler said.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Marry me and they’ll let you out of here.’

  Elspeth stopped, turned to face Tyler. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Everyone knows that. If you marry, you can leave.’

  She asked if he was sure.

  He thought so.

  Elspeth walked away again. Behind her Tyler was shouting, ‘Marry me. Come live with me in Newfoundland. I love you.’

  Back in the hut, Elspeth ate the rest of her chocolate. Marriage hadn’t occurred to her. Well, it wouldn’t. She hadn’t, till now, anyone to marry. Why not marry Tyler? she thought. He was kind, he was fun and the most enthusiastic lover she’d ever had.

  She contemplated opening a tin of condensed milk. But no, she’d take it to work tomorrow, put a dollop into the thick black tea she drank at breaktimes.

  Newfoundland, she thought, would probably be cold, wet, pounded with all kinds of weather. But it would be an adventure. And she was always up for that.

  She didn’t want to marry anybody, really. But she did want out of here, and now she’d found an escape. She was so excited, she almost forgot about her horde of peeping Toms.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Wanda the Wonder

  ‘EEZZY.’

  The voice was familiar. She turned. At first she didn’t recognise the face behind the voice. It was the moustache that threw her. When she’d known him, Wanda the Wonder had been clean-shaven. Naturally.