by Molly Green
June’s annoyance grew. Thanks to Iris she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. But then she heard a voice behind her.
‘Good evening, Miss Lavender.’
June turned and found herself looking up into a pair of sky-blue twinkling eyes. Flight Lieutenant Andrews in full uniform. She’d only ever seen him in his greatcoat. Her breath caught. He wasn’t nearly so handsome as Chas but there was something about the way his tawny hair fell forward over darker eyebrows, his smiling mouth, the cleft in his chin … She grew hot under his gaze, feeling more uncomfortable as she sensed Iris watching her with open curiosity.
‘Flight Lieutenant Andrews – how nice to see you again.’ June fought to keep her voice steady as she held out her hand. He took it in both of his. The warmth of his skin … she felt a tremor … was it from his hand, or her own?
‘Say, you already know Andrews?’ Chas glanced at Murray and lingered on June.
‘Oh, yes,’ Murray put in quickly before June could think what to say. ‘We’ve travelled together on the same train from London, we’ve chatted in a bookshop in Liverpool about Monica Dickens, we nearly had a cup of tea together’ – he turned to June and winked – ‘but unfortunately she had to rush away.’
‘I’d hardly call it travelling together when I just asked to get by in the corridor,’ June protested, which made Murray’s smile even wider.
‘Seeing as Junie’s not going to introduce us, I’m Iris.’ Iris stuck her hand out and Murray immediately shook hands with her.
‘What will you have to drink?’ Chas addressed Murray.
‘Let me get them,’ Murray said. He turned to June and Iris. ‘What would you like?’
‘I’ve got mine,’ Iris said, holding up her glass.
‘Miss Lavender?’ The blue eyes turned to her.
‘Just a lemonade for me, please,’ June said quickly, unaccountably pleased that it would be Murray buying her a drink and not Chas.
‘No dice, Andrews. I asked y’all first. Sit down at the table or I’ve wasted a quid. I’ll get you a beer and a lemonade for June.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Iris said, giving June a huge wink which she pretended to ignore.
‘Have you just arrived?’ Murray asked when Chas and Iris disappeared.
June nodded. ‘I wondered if you might be here.’
Oh, why did she say that? Her mother would have told her off for sounding too forward. She only hoped the dim light disguised her tingling cheeks.
‘Did you? Did you really?’ Murray’s expression was eager.
‘Yes. I wanted to apologise.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘For rushing away, as you just told them.’
‘Well, you did, didn’t you?’
‘I was supposed to meet Iris at half-past eleven for coffee and was already late. That was all.’
‘I thought you might have had an appointment with a boyfriend.’
‘Flight Lieutenant Andrews, I haven’t got time for that sort of thing. I’m working six days a week and long hours.’
‘Murray, please.’ Murray gave a theatrical sigh. ‘So that’s me out, is it?’
‘Afraid so.’ The retort was out before she could stop it. She wanted to retract it. Tell him she hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt. She’d been like it in the bookshop as well and it wasn’t in her nature to be rude. A stream of smoke wafted towards them and she felt it thick in her throat. She swallowed, trying to stop herself coughing.
The conversation was going nowhere, she thought, but she hadn’t reckoned with Murray.
‘Miss Lavender – June, if I may – I’m really happy you came tonight. Tell me – how are you getting on with One Pair of Hands? You know I really want to borrow it after you.’
‘I’m surprised you remember it.’
‘I remember our whole conversation,’ Murray said. ‘Would it be rude not to wait for the others and have this dance?’
Before she could answer, Murray had guided her on to the dance floor. The music had changed from a slow waltz to a quickstep.
He held her firmly. She was close enough to detect the faint musky cologne which seemed part of the masculine smell of his skin. His hand firmly holding hers was warm and strong and she allowed herself to be swept away by the music, her steps matching his as they flew across the dance floor. Suddenly he whirled her round and round until she clung on dizzily. He gripped her tighter. It was only when the music stopped that she saw his grinning face. He’d done it on purpose, just as he had in the corridor of the train when he’d stood in her way. She tried to ignore the spurt of irritation at his overfamiliarity.
‘We’re taking a fifteen-minute break,’ one of the musicians announced. ‘Don’t go anywhere, folks. We’ve got more of the same, and more of even better.’
‘Wondered where y’all had got to,’ Chas said, standing up when June and Murray walked back to the table.
‘Thought we might as well have a dance while we were waiting.’ Murray pulled June’s chair out.
‘Don’t blame you.’ Chas downed nearly half a glass in what looked like one gulp. He screwed up his face. ‘How do you guys drink warm beer? We always have it ice cold. Can’t stand it if it’s not chilled right.’
‘We’re the exact opposite.’ Murray took a deep swallow. ‘Thanks, Lockstone. Thirsty work.’ He put his glass down, leaving a wet ring on the table, and winked at June. ‘It’s been a long time, Ginger. Glad you remembered everything I taught you.’
June couldn’t help laughing as her irritation dropped away and she fell in with his mood. ‘And don’t forget, Fred, I wear high heels and have to do everything backwards, but you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. No one can touch you on the dance floor … when you’re really concentrating, that is.’ She kept a straight face as she played the part of Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire.
Murray chuckled. ‘Hard to concentrate with such a beautiful girl in my arms, Ginge.’
‘Well, thank you, Fred. That’s nice to hear.’
He was bantering. Of course he was. But he said I was beautiful. Her heart gave a tiny flip.
‘Seriously,’ Murray said, his eyes not leaving her face, ‘I do like dancing since I had lessons. Did the whole gamut. Just try me. Anything.’
Their eyes held.
June took in a shaky breath and with an almost apologetic smile turned to Iris, not wanting to leave her out, but Iris was taking no notice of them; she sat there mute, her eyes raking the dance floor, an unreadable expression on her face. Chas was frowning but he smiled when June glanced at him.
‘May I have this one, June?’ He stood up, his hand outstretched.
‘I think I’ll stay here a few minutes and catch my breath,’ June said. Even in the dim light Iris’s skin was flushed and her eyes unnaturally bright. A complete contrast to fifteen minutes ago.
‘Iris, are you all right?’
Iris twizzled the stick in her glass and didn’t raise her eyes. ‘I’m going to the Ladies, June. Do you want to come?’
Her voice was so pleading June immediately jumped from her seat.
Two girls were at the basins rinsing their hands, and the familiar smell of Ivory soap wafted in the small space; one very blonde girl hogged the mirror re-applying her lipstick. Iris shook her head at June.
It seemed that every time the place cleared, more women and girls came in, chattering and laughing.
‘We can’t have any conversation in here,’ Iris grumbled, ‘and if we go outside to have a cigarette, which I could well do with, the men will wonder what on earth’s happened to us.’
‘You seem upset about something.’
‘C’mon, Junie, let’s go. I’ll talk to you later.’
But the pleasure June had felt on seeing Murray Andrews again had dissipated with her concern for Iris, and she found herself pushing through the crowd as strongly as the tall dark-haired figure of her friend in front, wondering what could have made her change so abruptly.
Both
men stood up as soon as they saw the girls approach their table.
‘It’s not the usual way,’ Iris said, looking at Chas, ‘me asking you, but could we have this dance?’
Chas hesitated no more than a second before he rose gracefully from the table. ‘Sure we can. Be glad to.’ He held his hand out and stepped with her on to the dance floor.
‘You seem preoccupied, June,’ Murray said as she sat down.
‘I’m sorry.’ Through the crowd of dancers June spotted Iris clinging to Chas, though even from a distance June could see her eyes darting this way and that over his shoulder. Her friend didn’t seem to be behaving normally. June dragged her gaze from the dance floor and gave Murray a wry smile. He put his hand on her bare arm for a moment and her skin shivered into goosepimples.
‘What is it? Can I do anything to help?’
‘No, no, really. Thank you. It’s just – well, Iris seems upset about something but we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.’
‘Is she ill?’
‘I don’t think so. But she’s not acting herself.’
‘Maybe she’s tired. It can’t be easy working at the orphanage with all those children.’
‘It’s not,’ June admitted, ‘but I love it. There’s only one – no, two big problems.’
‘Do you want to tell me about them?’
‘Not in here,’ June said. ‘I can hardly hear myself speak above the band.’
‘When is your next day off?’
‘The day after tomorrow – Monday.’
‘If I can get a couple of hours off, why don’t we meet? A problem shared is a problem halved, they always say.’ He smiled. She noticed one of his teeth at the bottom was crooked. She rather liked it. It made him look somehow vulnerable.
‘That’s kind of you.’
‘Maybe we could meet in Liverpool at the same bookshop and go for that cup of tea we never had.’ His blue eyes twinkled. ‘Say three o’clock?’
‘That would be lovely.’
‘Good. I know a place where they do delicious cakes that seem to have escaped any rationing.’
They only stayed another half an hour. June was a little disappointed not to have another dance with Murray but she was conscious that Iris wasn’t in the mood. Chas asked if she would like a dance and she said yes, but he had an awkward two-step style and kept apologising for stepping on her toes. It might have been because there was such a difference in their height and he had to hunch over her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t relax or enjoy it the way she had with Murray. Besides, she felt Murray’s eyes on her every time it seemed that Chas pulled her closer. At the end of the dance Chas excused himself and the next time she saw him he was with a pretty redhead.
Iris was still quiet on the bus back but again there was so much noise they couldn’t really hear one another.
‘Would you like to come to my room?’ June said when they finally slipped inside the door. ‘At least we’ll get some peace. We shouldn’t disturb anyone as I’m the only one on that floor as far as I can make out.’
‘I’ll bring us a cup of cocoa,’ Iris said.
She kept to her word and ten minutes later the two girls were sipping cocoa and munching a Rich Tea. June waited patiently for her friend to speak. Iris was still looking a little flushed but her eyes didn’t glitter quite so ferociously.
‘I saw Paul dancing with another girl.’ Her voice was flat.
‘Who’s Paul?’
‘My boyfriend, of course.’
‘I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. You never said anything about him.’
‘It’s too new. But I thought it would develop into something more serious. I thought he liked me. And I really liked him. Until I saw him dancing with that awful woman this evening.’
June fell silent. What should she say? ‘Would I have seen him?’ she said eventually.
‘You might – he’s about my height, and very dark and very handsome. Though I doubt he’s rich.’ She tried to smile but June could tell she was upset.
‘When did you spot him?’
‘When I went with Chas to get your friend Murray a beer. Paul waltzed by without even noticing me. He only had eyes for her.’
‘Then don’t give him any more attention. He’s not worth it,’ June said firmly. ‘Why don’t you go for Chas? He’s good-looking as well, and he’s very tall. You know how you always grumble that men seem to be shrinking.’
‘You can’t switch off from one to the other like that,’ Iris said, draining her cup. ‘Ah, that was just what was needed.’ She turned her attention back to June. ‘Trouble is, I did try with Chas. I wanted to make Paul jealous by dancing close to Chas. See how I’ve already got a new boyfriend, Paul? Then he saw me. Raised his eyebrows and smiled – a stupid sort of apologetic smile. So it didn’t work. And anyway, Chas talked about you all the time.’
‘Me?’ June put her cup down, splashing some of the brown liquid on the table. She jumped up to grab a cloth.
‘Yes, he’s quite taken with you and very disappointed you seem to be going with a British pilot.’
‘I’m not going with anyone.’
‘Well, he thinks you are. And by the look on your face when you were dancing with your pilot you seemed very happy.’
‘It was just a dance,’ June protested. ‘And yes, I like him, but I don’t want to get serious with anyone. I always seem to lose anyone I really love.’ Her eyes misted as she thought of Clara. And her mother – her miserable life with a bully of a husband, who was the direct cause of Clara’s death. If her baby sister hadn’t been scared of him, if she hadn’t run, then she wouldn’t have tripped and fallen down the stairs and broken her neck … The tears gathered in her throat and she swallowed.
‘June, are you okay?’ Iris was by her side. ‘What’s the matter, Junie?’ She put her arm around her friend’s shoulders.
‘I was thinking about my sister.’
‘I thought you were. C’mon, kid. You’ve got a lot of children here who need your help badly.’
‘I don’t seem to be doing much at the moment. Every time I want to see Lizzie, Matron or Hilda are there barring my way.’
‘It’ll be Christmas week after next,’ Iris said. ‘Last year Matron went to her sister’s over Christmas which allowed the kids to be normal children for once.’
‘Maybe without her I can bring Lizzie down from the nursery. Let her help decorate the tree or something.’
‘Good idea. We’ll make a plan. And Junie’ – Iris’s old grin was back – ‘for once in your life, you’re right. I’m going to forget that rotter. I deserve better. And who needs a man anyway?’
June decided now was not the time to tell Iris that she was going to meet Murray on Monday afternoon.
Murray closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her in his arms as they’d danced the quickstep. She’d been a wonderful partner, light on her feet, following his every movement, her small hand – the lightest touch – on his shoulder, her other hand lost in his. His head had been in a whirl and it wasn’t just the way he’d spun her round and round at the end of the dance.
Then the way she’d picked up on his joke about them being Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. She’d known immediately who he was talking about and had responded in exactly the same vein. He liked that in a girl. A sense of fun. It was what was needed even more urgently in this bloody war. If it wasn’t for the cinema and the monthly dances at the station, there’d be no let-up from trying to beat Jerry. Not that he often went to the dances. He’d become cynical every time a busload of girls arrived, many of them so heavily made up it was difficult to see who the person might be underneath it, and it would get worse now a handful of Americans had already arrived. But he’d decided to go because there was a certain girl – a girl with fair hair like ripened corn, and green eyes – who might, just might be there too. And she had. And it was heaven. Just like the song Fred Astaire sang to Ginger Rogers in one of their films as they were dancing. Murray grinned. He wa
s getting far too soppy.
Concentrate. Get June Lavender out of your head. For now, anyway.
He fell instantly asleep.
Chapter Nine
The thought of seeing Murray the next day gave June a tiny thrill of pleasure. She liked the way they’d bantered about the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films. The way they both liked books. And now she could add dancing to the list. She smiled to herself. It was certainly different dancing with him than it had been with Aunt Ada.
She turned her thoughts to the day. Sunday was always quieter in the home. The children were getting ready to file into the turret room, which had been converted into a small chapel, complete with beautiful stained-glass windows. The vicar would be there promptly at eleven o’clock to take the service, and her job was to make sure all the children were in their Sunday best; no runny noses, no hair uncombed, no shoes unpolished, ready to hear Reverend Halliday tell them they were sinners. June was never sure why even innocent children should be called sinners, but at least Reverend Halliday showed them how to behave themselves and pray so that God would forgive them.
Today there were the usual grumbles and protests.
‘Bobby, stop that snivelling.’ Kathleen was nearby helping to get some of the children dressed. ‘You’d think I was sending you to the dungeons to hear you.’
‘Don’t want to go and pray. What’s the use? God let me Mam and Dad die. He doesn’t care.’
‘Of course he does. He needed your parents to help him. They’re watching over you all the time, hoping you’re growing up to be a good boy.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ Bobby fought with the sleeves of his jumper as Kathleen tried to pull it over his head. ‘Alan told me it was all a pack of lies about God and everything.’
‘Then Alan should be ashamed of himself.’
June at that moment was having her own battle with the shameful Alan; aged twelve, he was three years older than Bobby, and becoming too cocky for words.
‘Did you tell Bobby God was all a pack of lies, Alan?’ she asked as she whipped away a penknife which was partly sticking out of his pocket. ‘You won’t be needing that in the chapel … or anywhere.’