‘Yes, well, I’m not busy tonight, am I?’
‘Only because he’s stood you up.’
Jennifer was offended. ‘I told you, he hasn’t stood me up,’ she shot back. ‘He has some business to do, that’s all.’
‘No one does business on a Friday night, Jen. Not unless they’re up to no good anyway,’ Cissy muttered.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
Cissy shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
‘No, come on. Out with it, Cissy Baxter. If you’ve got something to say, tell me.’
Cissy was silent for a long time. But she was wearing her thoughtful look, as if trying to work out what to say and how to say it. The last time Jennifer had seen that expression on her friend’s face was when she had thought about bleaching her hair two years ago. She’d been so set on the idea, it had taken all Cissy’s courage to persuade her not to do it.
Finally Cissy said, ‘You do know what Johnny’s up to, don’t you? I mean, you know what business he’s really in?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s a black marketeer, Jen. All this stuff he gets hold of for people . . . it’s stolen.’
Jennifer felt the hot blush rise in her cheeks. ‘Of course I know what he does!’ she snapped. ‘Do you think I’m stupid or something?’ Johnny had never told her and she had long since stopped asking. But she had worked it out for herself.
Cissy stared at her. ‘And you don’t mind?’
‘Why should I?’ She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘But it’s stealing!’
‘Oh, come off it, Cis! It’s not like he really robs anyone, is it? It’s only stuff that falls off the back of lorries. Everyone does it,’ Jennifer added carelessly.
That was what she told herself anyway.
But it took a lot for her to swallow her shame. Especially when her father came home and told them about the latest theft from the bombed-out dock warehouses. And the last thing she needed was Cissy to get all holier-than-thou about it and make her feel worse than she already did.
‘Anyway,’ Jennifer added, ‘I don’t see you complaining when he brings you stockings and lipstick!’
That got her. Cissy retreated into guilty silence. Jennifer was silent too, but out of hurt and anger. She was really disappointed in her friend. First Cissy hadn’t been nearly impressed enough when Jennifer showed off the bracelet Johnny had given her. Then she’d refused to come out dancing, and now she was being very hurtful about him.
If she was a real mate she would be pleased for her, instead of trying to make her feel bad. God knew, Jennifer had listened to Cissy going on about Paul often enough!
Or at least, she used to. It shocked her to realise how far apart she and Cissy had drifted since they’d started working in the hospital. They didn’t even have lunch together any more, since the dining room had been destroyed.
But Cissy was her only real friend and Jennifer didn’t want to lose her. And if that meant swallowing her pride and making the first move, then so be it.
‘I don’t want to fall out, Cis,’ she wheedled. ‘Can’t we just be friends?’
‘I suppose so.’ Cissy sent her a sidelong smile.
‘I’d really like us to go out tonight.’ Jennifer nudged her. ‘Go on, it’ll be like old times, you and me down the Palais.’
‘I told you, I can’t.’
‘What are you doing that’s so important?’
Cissy paused. ‘I promised Eve she could come round so I could do her hair,’ she said quietly.
She was blushing when she said it, and with good reason. Jennifer stared at her.
‘You what? Why?’
Cissy lifted her shoulders. ‘I feel sorry for her.’
‘You feel sorry for her?’ Jennifer echoed. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘We are talking about the same girl, aren’t we? The one we used to make fun of at those First Aid classes?’
‘She’s all right once you get to know her,’ Cissy defended. ‘You should come round, too. Then you could . . .’
‘No, thanks!’ Jennifer grimaced. ‘Spending the evening with that drip isn’t my idea of fun, thank you very much!’
‘I told you, she’s not that bad once you get to know her.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Jennifer said. ‘Honestly, Cissy, I would have thought the last thing you’d do is waste your time on someone like her!’ She stared at her friend in frustration. ‘Are you sure you can’t just tell her you’ve had a better offer?’
Usually she could have twisted her friend around her little finger. But for once Cissy was being surprisingly stubborn. ‘I told you, I promised.’
There was something about the way she said it, and the shifty way she couldn’t meet Jennifer’s eye, that made her feel there was more to it than Cissy was letting on.
‘I thought I’d just give you a few pin curls, because they’re easy and won’t take as long to set,’ Cissy said.
She fluttered around Eve, winding strands of hair around her fingers and fastening each curl in place with a hairpin. Eve watched her admiringly.
‘You’re so quick,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I could ever manage it the way you can.’
‘It’s not that difficult once you get the knack. Jen and I used to do each other’s all the time . . .’
Cissy’s voice tailed off and Eve saw her face fall, reflected in the mirror she held in her hands. Eve knew Jennifer and Cissy had fallen out because Jennifer had made a point of grabbing her at the WVS van and telling her all about it earlier that day.
‘I s’pose you know you’ve ruined Cissy’s evening?’ she’d said. ‘She wanted to come out dancing with me but she can’t because she doesn’t want to let you down.’
Of course Eve had tried to put it right straight away by telling Cissy she didn’t have to come. ‘We can easily make it another evening,’ she’d said. But Cissy just firmed her mouth and said, ‘Jen said that to you, did she? She had no right to interfere.’
‘She wasn’t interfering,’ Eve assured her hastily. ‘And besides, I don’t mind.’
‘No, but I do,’ Cissy said. ‘You’re coming round to my house tonight, just like we planned,’ she told Eve firmly.
‘But Jennifer . . .’
‘Believe me, Jennifer’s the last person I want to see at the moment. And she’ll stay out of my way if she knows what’s good for her!’
But Eve still felt guilty as she sat in the kitchen of the Baxters’ home. She shouldn’t be there, she thought. This was Jennifer’s place, not hers. It was Jennifer who should be here, gossiping with Cissy before going off on their night out.
Even Cissy’s mother seemed surprised to see Eve, although once Cissy had introduced them she had smiled and welcomed their visitor and offered her tea and a piece of cake.
‘Not sure what it tastes like, though,’ she’d said cheerfully. ‘You just can’t get the ingredients, can you?’
Now she fussed around them in the kitchen, complaining about Cissy’s combs and clips and pins being scattered over the table.
‘Look at all this mess! Why do you have to spread yourself about and take over everything?’ she sighed.
Eve was mortified and rushed to tidy them up, but Cissy said, ‘Take no notice, she doesn’t mean it.’
Eve glanced warily at Mrs Baxter, waiting for her to react. But the woman simply smiled and shook her head at her daughter’s antics. ‘I dunno why I waste my breath,’ she said.
Eve eyed them both uncertainly in the mirror, still not sure what was happening. Aunt Freda would have expected her to do as she was told straight away, or be given a smack round the face. Seeing Cissy and her mother, and Mrs Stanton and Muriel, Eve realised she still had a lot to learn about how mothers and daughters treated each other.
Cissy put in the last curl. ‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s done. Now while we’re waiting for it to set, I’ll give you a bit of make-up.’
Eve shrank back
in her seat. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Really, I couldn’t.’ Having curls was one thing, but going back to the vicarage with her face painted was another.
Cissy laughed. ‘Don’t look so frightened, it’s just a bit of powder and lipstick. You won’t look like someone who hangs round the docks, I promise.’
Eve stared at her, mystified. The only people who hung around the docks were stevedores and sailors and the like. She couldn’t think why any of them would wear lipstick. ‘I – I don’t understand,’ she ventured.
Cissy and her mother exchanged disbelieving glances. Then Cissy laughed and said, ‘It doesn’t matter. You wait there, I’ll go and get my make-up bag.’
Eve submitted patiently as Cissy went about her work, dabbing on powder and rouge, and shaping Eve’s lips with a stub of pink lipstick. ‘I haven’t got a lot of this left, but Jen reckons her Johnny might be able to get me some . . .’
Once again, she stopped herself, and her face took on a taut, angry look that Eve didn’t understand. She wanted to ask about it, but Cissy looked too cross as she took out her mascara, spat on it then worked the brush into the dense black block.
Her mood had recovered by the time she’d finished. ‘There,’ she said, gazing into Eve’s face like an artist studying their latest canvas. ‘No, don’t look at yourself yet. Let me take your curls out first so you get the full effect.’
It was much quicker to unpin the curls than it had been to put them in. Cissy released each one in turn, and carefully combed it out. Eve felt a curl tickle her cheek.
‘Trust me, it looks lovely,’ Cissy said. ‘You’ll have all the boys running after you by the time I’ve finished.’
Eve glanced up at her in dismay from under lashes weighed down by sooty mascara.
‘But I don’t want anyone running after me!’
Cissy slanted a smile at her. ‘Oh, come on! You must have someone you like, surely?’
For some reason, a picture of Oliver Stanton came into Eve’s mind.
‘I knew it!’ Cissy laughed with triumph. ‘You’re blushing, which means there is someone. And I bet I know who it is, too.’ She slowly combed out another curl and fluffed it up with her fingers. ‘I don’t blame you,’ she said. ‘He is rather handsome, I must say.’
Eve frowned at her, until Cissy went on, ‘I mean, I don’t go much for fair-haired men myself, but Dr Jameson is very good-looking.’
‘Dr Jameson?’ Eve repeated blankly.
‘That’s who you’ve got your eye on, isn’t it? I’m right, aren’t I?’ Cissy said. Then, without waiting for an answer, she went on, ‘If you ask me, he definitely likes you, too.’
‘Me?’ The idea was so ridiculous Eve almost laughed. ‘I don’t think he’s even noticed me.’
‘Of course he has. I’ve seen him giving you the eye, don’t you worry.’ Cissy nodded knowingly.
Eve stared down at her fingers, lacing them together nervously in her lap. This was all a revelation to her, and she sincerely hoped it wasn’t true. She had no wish for a boyfriend, and if she thought Dr Jameson had any interest in her she would be so embarrassed she would probably never be able to face him again. But Cissy understood far more about all this sort of thing than Eve did, so maybe she was right.
‘There, that’s it.’ Cissy adjusted the last curl and stood back to survey her handiwork, tweaking a curl here and there until finally she was satisfied. ‘You can look in the mirror now,’ she said.
Eve held up the mirror and stared at her reflection. She barely recognised the girl gazing back at her. The bouncy curls framed a small, heart-shaped face, softening the narrow angles and making her look almost pretty. Cissy’s subtle make-up enhanced her wide eyes and the cupid’s bow of her mouth.
Cissy’s mother came bustling back in. She stopped in her tracks in the doorway when she saw Eve.
‘Oh, love, that does suit you,’ she said. ‘You look a treat, you really do.’
Cissy smiled, obviously pleased with her creation. She turned to Eve. ‘Well? What do you reckon?’
‘It looks – lovely,’ Eve whispered.
‘I told you, didn’t I?’ Cissy grinned triumphantly. ‘I said all you needed was a bit of help.’
‘It’s like magic. I never imagined I could look like this.’
Cissy blushed at the praise, but Eve could tell she was pleased with herself. ‘It’s nothing, really,’ she shrugged. ‘Just a few curlers and a bit of make-up. I could show you how to do it yourself, if you like? Then you could look like this every day.’
Eve shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not? What harm would it do to brighten yourself up a bit?’ Cissy grinned. ‘You never know, you might catch Dr Jameson’s eye!’
Now it was Eve’s turn to blush. Her thoughts flew to her aunt. Freda Ainsley would have had a fit if she’d thought Eve was flaunting herself in front of a man.
Bad blood will out. That’s what she would have said.
‘I’d better not,’ said Eve. ‘But I’d like to keep it on for tonight, if that’s all right? I’d like to show Mrs Stanton and Muriel.’
And Oliver, a small voice inside her head added. Eve pushed the thought away.
Mrs Stanton was playing whist with Muriel and Oliver when Eve walked in.
‘There are you, dear. Did you have a nice—’ Mrs Stanton looked up and stopped dead when she saw Eve. ‘Oh, my goodness! What have you done to yourself?’
All Eve’s fragile self-confidence instantly crumbled. ‘Is it too much?’ she asked anxiously.
‘No, it’s beautiful. Truly beautiful. You just look so – different, that’s all.’
Mrs Stanton and Muriel got up from the table and came over to study Eve. The next thing, they were stroking her curls and admiring her make-up and asking all kinds of questions about what Cissy had done and how she’d managed to achieve such a miraculous transformation.
For once, Eve didn’t feel embarrassed at being the centre of attention. Instead she felt absurdly pleased and almost like a real girl as she chatted to them about lipstick and mascara. But all the time she was looking at Oliver, waiting for his reaction. He hadn’t even glanced up from his cards since the first look he’d given her when she walked into the room.
Mrs Stanton finally turned to him. ‘What do you think, Oliver? Doesn’t she look lovely?’
Eve turned nervously to him and waited as he raised his gaze from his cards. ‘I think you look exactly like your friend Cissy Baxter. But I suppose that’s the point, isn’t it?’ he replied, his voice full of disgust.
With that, he put down his cards and walked out of the room.
‘Oliver!’ Mrs Stanton called after him. She turned back to Eve, instantly apologetic. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ she said. ‘I really don’t know what’s got into him. He isn’t usually so offhand.’
‘It’s all right,’ Eve mumbled. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. She thought she looked pretty, and so did Cissy and Mrs Stanton, and Muriel, and everyone else. So why should she care what Oliver thought?
But she did care. More than she liked to admit.
Chapter Thirty-Five
NICK WAS COMING home.
The letter Dora had longed for was waiting for her when she came in from duty one evening. She read it aloud to Danny while they were feeding the twins.
Danny frowned. ‘What does em— embar—’
‘Embarkation leave,’ Dora finished for him. ‘It means Nick’s allowed home for a few days before the army sends him away again.’
Danny’s face fell. ‘Y-you mean he’s got to g-go and fight again?’
Dora wished she could have lied to her brother-in-law, to make him feel better. But he had to know the truth.
‘Yes,’ she said heavily.
‘But I d-don’t want him to go. Wh-what if he gets h-hurt?’
‘He won’t.’
‘He got hurt l-last time.’
Dora looked at Danny’s earnest face. He was spooning food int
o Walter’s mouth, concentrating on getting every spoonful past the baby’s pursed lips without spilling any. Danny was right, she thought. He might not understand everything he was told, but she couldn’t argue with his simple logic.
‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘But what can we do? Nick has to go.’
‘You c-could talk to him?’ Danny looked up at her, his pale eyes shining with hope. ‘Nick l-listens to you. He w-wouldn’t go if you t-told him not to.’
‘It’s not your brother I’d have to talk to, love. It’s the army.’
‘Then you c-could talk to them?’
His faith was almost heartbreaking. In Danny’s world, she and Nick could move mountains.
‘I wish I could, ducks. But even I couldn’t take on the British army.’ Dora smiled bracingly. ‘Anyway, listen to us. Here we are, being all gloomy when we should be happy he’s coming home. We’ve got to keep smiling, Danny, for Nick’s sake. We don’t want him going off to war feeling all worried because we’re fed up, do we?’
Danny shook his head. ‘I – I suppose not.’
‘That’s the spirit. Let’s just think about making this leave really special for him, shall we? So he can go off wherever he’s going with some nice memories, and he won’t have to worry about us.’
The idea seemed to cheer Danny up. ‘I can sh-show him how I’ve b-been looking after the b-babies,’ he said.
‘That’s right. He’ll be proud of you.’
Danny smiled shyly. ‘I w-want him to be proud of me.’
Danny insisted on sleeping with Nick’s letter under his pillow. When Dora crept downstairs to the outhouse in the middle of the night, he was lying awake, trying to read it in the dark, struggling to recognise all the words from memory.
Dora smiled to herself. The poor lad hadn’t seen his brother for seven months, the longest they’d ever been apart. She knew they missed each other dreadfully, and she only hoped Nick would be cheered up when he saw how Danny was flourishing.
The following morning, Little Alfie arrived back from one of his early-morning scavenging trips with some pieces of shrapnel and the news that the hospital had been hit yet again.
Nightingales at War Page 23