by Molly Green
‘You may not leave the home until six o’clock,’ she’d said, her lips in a tight line.
‘But that won’t give us … I mean me time to …’ June stuttered.
‘I expect you’re going with that pilot,’ Matron said, a crafty expression flitting across her features. ‘So don’t try to say different.’
‘It’s my personal time off, Matron,’ June said, forcing Matron to look her in the eye. ‘I’m merely asking for at least the afternoon and evening.’
Matron was silent for a few moments. ‘Just this once,’ she said finally. ‘You may leave at four. But mind he brings you home before eleven.’
‘I’ll start back as soon as the play’s finished,’ June said. She had no idea when it would end but she was determined not to miss one moment of it because of having to rush back to Bingham Hall.
Matron nodded and June took it to mean that she had agreed.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘No, you definitely can’t appear in that same skirt and blouse you wore at the dance,’ Iris said. The two of them were in Iris’s bedroom. She’d told June she’d do her hair, so to come by an hour before Murray arrived.
June had puffed some powder on to her nose and even added a little rouge, then wiped it off again as she’d hated the artificiality of the colour. She’d touched her lips with a very soft red which instantly gave her a quiet air of confidence – totally different from how she really felt at the moment; just thinking about meeting Murray, let alone seeing him in person, was making her quake. Now, with Iris’s comment, she felt herself coming unstuck again.
‘I’ll put a bit of make-up on you,’ Iris said firmly. ‘You’re much too pale. But let’s get your hair done first as that will make all the difference.’
June didn’t bother to tell her she’d already tried some rouge and wiped it off. You didn’t say no to Iris when she wore that determined look.
Somehow she’d cleared a space of sorts and sat June down at her dressing table, which was piled high with bottles and jars and brushes. To June it looked like something off a film set, yet Iris was a nurse and was only allowed to wear the very minimum of make-up.
‘Right. We’ll put it up like this.’ Iris got hold of a hank of hair and pushed some pins in. The hair immediately fell out. ‘You’ve got beautiful thick hair,’ she commented, ‘with a will of its own. But I shan’t let it beat me. In the meantime I’m going to turn you away from the mirror so you don’t see what I’m doing.’
Fifteen minutes later June’s hair was swept away from her face and caught up at the neck in a thick twist, the long hairpins and Kirby grips holding it so firmly in place they were beginning to dig into June’s scalp, but she dared not say anything. She felt Iris slide a comb into one side of her head.
‘Why don’t you try my black dress.’ Iris looked June up and down. ‘You’re about the same figure as me, though it will be a bit longer on you as I’m taller.’ She stepped through the debris in her bedroom and opened her wardrobe door.
From the angle where she sat on the edge of Iris’s bed June could see her friend had triple the amount of clothes she had. And although her bedroom was a mess as usual, the inside of the wardrobe was beautifully neat, everything colour coordinated, hats on the top shelf, pairs of shoes on the floor. Iris had obviously not come from any working-class family. June tried to repress the ripple of envy as she watched Iris slip a dress from one of the wooden coat-hangers and hand it to her.
‘See what you think.’
Slightly embarrassed at stripping in front of her friend, June removed her work clothes and stood in her plain knickers and brassière.
‘Not much of a show-stopper there,’ Iris said, chuckling. ‘You need some pretty lingerie, girl.’
‘I’m not exactly getting married.’ June grinned back. ‘It’s a casual meeting – remember?’
‘If Murray’s got any sense he won’t allow it to be too casual for too long.’ Iris tossed a cream petticoat over. ‘Here, you need this first.’
June slipped it on. Carefully, so as not to disturb her hair, she drew the black dress over her head and smoothed it down over her gently rounded hips. Except for the length, which came to her mid-calf, it fitted perfectly. It was a slim-fitting little number of fine wool, with a scooped neck and silver belt.
‘It’s perfect,’ Iris said admiringly. ‘Luckily mid-calf is still fashionable. Come and look in the mirror.’ She grabbed a load of beads and belts and a couple of evening bags which she’d slung on the edge of the mirror.
June took in a sharp breath. ‘Is that sophisticated lady really me?’
‘No one else here,’ Iris said grinning. ‘You look simply gorgeous.’
June stroked one of the sleeves. They were sheer black organza showing tantalising glimpses of the firm flesh of her arms. The silver comb matched the silver belt accentuating her trim waist. The effect was stunning. She would have liked to fasten the little silver RAF brooch to the dress but was worried that the pin might damage the fine material. And if she was honest, she wasn’t quite ready to show the brooch to anyone, not even Iris, just yet.
‘Shame you haven’t any evening shoes, and your feet are so tiny they’d be lost in a pair of mine … but I suppose those will do.’ Iris nodded doubtfully at June’s feet. They were plain court with a little heel and June privately thought they looked fine.
‘You need a bag.’ Iris went to her wardrobe again and removed a black-beaded evening bag with silver handles.
‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me. I’ve loved being part of the transformation.’
‘I shall feel like Cinderella when I come home and take everything off and look in the mirror and see just an ordinary girl staring back at me.’
‘You’re far from ordinary, June. You just haven’t given yourself a chance. And now you’re ready to meet your pilot, looking sensational.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ June said, laughing, for once not correcting her friend on the ‘your pilot’ bit. ‘But I do feel the most glamorous I’ve ever felt in my life.’
‘Good. It will give you confidence. He’ll wonder what’s hit him.’
The blackout curtains had already been pulled at the windows of Bingham Hall when June heard the car on the gravel at five minutes to four. It had been a crisp sunny day and June had tried hard not to be too upset with Matron for forbidding her to leave any earlier. Why was Matron so intent on spoiling anything nice? But now he was here. She’d been waiting for this moment; she didn’t want him to ring the bell and have the maid answer with Matron lurking in the background.
June quickly pulled the heavy door open and stepped out, feeling a little strange in Iris’s dress underneath her coat. She could feel the silky petticoat next to her skin and it was an odd sensation. But wonderful. She’d decided not to wear a hat as it might spoil her lovely hairdo. The silver comb would have to be the only ornament. Her heart beat fast. Would Murray like the new Junie? Then a thought struck her. Would he think her forward for not waiting until he rang the bell – that she was too eager by being outside already?
It was too late. He’d already spotted her.
In a flash Murray had jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running, striding towards her, a grin splitting his face in two, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. It was the first time she’d ever seen him in civvies and her heart jumped. He looked incredibly sophisticated in his dark-grey coat and black hat, a white silk scarf casually tied at the neck.
‘You look lovely, Junie,’ he said, taking her arm, his gaze upon her. ‘The hairstyle suits you – very elegant.’ He nodded his approval. ‘I’m going to feel proud to have you by my side.’
It was as though they’d suddenly moved several steps forward in their relationship, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. He opened the door of his friend’s motor, waited while she swung her legs into the car, and slammed the door shut.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
> June nodded.
‘Right, we’re off.’ He tossed his hat in the rear seat. ‘Freedom at last’ – he turned to her soberly – ‘except when you’re in the forces you’re never free, even on leave.’ His serious look turned into a ready smile. ‘But we’ll make the most of it.’
It sounded as though they were colluding and she returned his smile.
He drove in an easy way, and she imagined him high up in the clouds, those same hands controlling a Spitfire. It gave her a delicious frisson of excitement until she remembered what a dangerous place he’d be in. She shook herself. It was no good giving in to wild imaginings. The excitement was replaced by a feeling of fear and worry.
‘Penny for them.’ Murray momentarily turned his head. ‘You look very thoughtful. Is everything all right?’
‘Y-yes.’ She couldn’t help stuttering; it was as though he’d tuned into her mind.
‘Sure?’
‘Very sure.’
‘So what were you thinking?’
She said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Actually, I was wondering how you managed to get some petrol.’
Murray chuckled. ‘Not easy. You have to know the right people. Let’s say it’s been a long time since I had any time off, and I think they felt I deserved a gallon or two for good behaviour.’ He gave her a swift glance. ‘I haven’t stolen it or done anything wrong, June, in case that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Oh, no, not at all,’ she said quickly, even though she could tell by his grin that he was only teasing. ‘I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘And how do you know such a thing about me?’
‘Because I do.’
He gave her such a sharp look it made her blush, and then they both laughed.
She suddenly remembered something. ‘I’ve never thanked you for my little brooch. I love it. I’m not wearing it on my coat as I didn’t want to lose it. I wanted to pin it on my dress but I was worried the pin might leave a mark.’ She wouldn’t mention it was Iris’s dress she was wearing so she needed to be extra careful. ‘It’s a military brooch, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it’s a special one for ladies. Sometimes the boys buy one for their mother – or if they have a girlfriend,’ he added.
There was a pause. She wondered if he wished he hadn’t said that. Then he turned to her and she saw his smile – the same slightly mocking one he’d given her on the train that time.
‘How’s Freddie?’ she asked, her pulse rapid, pretending she hadn’t given any importance to his words.
‘Full of beans. The chaps love him. He’s got plenty of food, he can go outside when he wants, and he’s never without some pats and cuddles. You don’t need to worry at all about him.’
‘How soon they forget,’ June tried to joke, but she was still upset she wasn’t there to laugh at his antics with Lizzie.
‘You can bring Lizzie to see Freddie any chance you get,’ Murray said, taking his hand off the wheel for a second and touching her arm. ‘Even if I’m not around, I’m sure someone will allow you to see him, but it’s best if I’m there, of course.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ June said, giving him a quick glance. She liked his profile. His straight nose, eyes concentrating ahead, and his mouth smiling. He returned her glance and chuckled.
‘It’ll be a good excuse to see you again.’
They drove along in silence but it was a comfortable one. Finally Murray broke it.
‘As it’s later than I’d hoped, I suggest we eat first and see the play afterwards. Then Matron won’t give you a hard time. Does that sound okay?’
‘It does. I have to admit that Matron only gave permission for me to be out this evening if I came straight back after the theatre.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Murray kept his eyes ahead. ‘But we’re going to make the most of every minute.’
‘Am I allowed to know what we’re going to see, or is it meant to be a surprise?’
Murray’s blue eyes, full of laughter, caught hers for a second before he fixed them on the road again.
‘It’s an Oscar Wilde play – The Importance of Being Earnest. John Gielgud and Edith Evans are in it. I’ve been wanting to see it for ages.’
June had barely heard of Oscar Wilde, much less his plays, though she’d vaguely heard Aunt Ada talk of John Gielgud and what a wonderful Shakespearean actor he was. She had to say something so she didn’t look too much of an idiot.
‘John Gielgud – isn’t he a Shakespearean actor?’
Murray grinned appreciatively. ‘He certainly is. Famous for his Hamlet and Macbeth. But I chose tonight’s play because I felt we needed something lighter and this is supposed to be one of Wilde’s finest comedies.’ He paused and gave her another quick glance. ‘You haven’t seen it already, have you?’
‘No, no, I haven’t, though I’ve always wanted to.’ She crossed her fingers as she uttered the fib, telling herself if she’d known about the Being Earnest play, she was sure she’d have wanted to see it. Thank goodness at least she now knew it was a comedy.
‘Phew! I was a bit worried for a moment.’ He chuckled, and she realised he was teasing her again. It was a good feeling. ‘Tell me about your job,’ he said, giving a wide berth to a bicycle which looked as though it was about to wobble right into them.
‘Are you really interested?’
‘I am. I love kids and feel sorry for those little ones at your orphanage. Dr Barnardo was a great character, and it was incredible how he got even the first home going in those days, let alone the ones he now has all over the country.’
June secretly stored the information away that Murray loved children.
‘He must have had a lot of money,’ she commented, ‘as well as a big heart.’
‘I don’t know that he was particularly wealthy, but he must have had some money … and then apparently he got people to donate to his cause. I believe in the end he set up Dr Barnardo’s as a charity. He’s certainly done a marvellous job with homeless children.’
‘How do you know all that about Dr Barnardo?’
‘Did him at school. I remember thinking how even one person can have such an extraordinary effect on society. Bit like Dickens.’
June glowed. What a kind and compassionate man he was.
‘Speaking of Dickens – how are you getting on with his granddaughter’s book?’
‘I finished it. She’s a really interesting person. I should have brought it with me.’
‘Maybe next time.’ He pulled up at a set of traffic lights. ‘Tell me about Lizzie,’ he said. ‘Was she terribly upset?’
‘She was.’ June bit her lip. ‘Freddie helped a lot to get her behaving like a normal child. He was the one who really got her talking again, though one of the older boys, Alan, has been very good with her, but she wouldn’t speak again for days after Freddie left. She still keeps asking when you’re going to bring him back.’ She paused and glanced at him. ‘Is he happy with all of you?’
‘Perfectly.’ Murray laughed. ‘He’s always got someone to play with.’
‘I’m glad. It wasn’t the best for him to be shut in my room all day. Or in the stable. But he’s a dear little dog and used to make me laugh. I miss him much more than I thought I would.’
‘Yes, that matron of yours is a harridan, isn’t she?’
‘She just has no understanding of children. Thinks they should be seen and not heard. She’s much too strict – when they haven’t done anything that bad. She was horrible to poor Lizzie and threatened to send her back to the nursery if she didn’t stop crying, which only made Lizzie cry harder.’
‘Poor little kid. We’ll try to fix something up soon so she can see her puppy. Because Freddie is still hers and I’m determined she’ll have him back again one day.’
‘It would be a miracle if Matron has anything to do with it,’ June said with feeling, ‘but it would be wonderful.’
They chatted some more about the goings-on at
Bingham Hall. June longed to know more about Murray’s job but of course she knew he couldn’t talk about it. Everything was hush-hush.
As they drew into Liverpool she was shocked all over again at the damage – whole streets destroyed, just the occasional house left standing intact. But who would want to remain there when all they had for neighbours was a pile of bricks and masonry, and what were once family pets now confused and searching desperately for food?
‘It’s pretty dire, isn’t it?’ Murray said, reading her thoughts. ‘You can’t imagine the misery those folk are going through. Not just their homes but losing loved ones. Some of them not even finding their bodies.’
June could only nod in agreement. They’d come a different way from the route Harold had taken her and Iris before Christmas. This side of Liverpool was nearer to the docks, which the Luftwaffe had bombed night after night in the Liverpool Blitz a year ago. The German planes were still constantly reminding the residents of their power.
‘I think here is as good a place as any to park.’ Murray eventually turned into a small side street that so far had escaped any major damage. He turned off the engine and the lights, and June saw it was already quite dark outside.
A dozen children clamoured round before he’d even got the door open.
‘What motor is that, Mister?’ one of the grimy little lads asked.
Most of them looked no more than ten or eleven years old.
‘It’s a 1933 Austin 7.’
‘Cor. Can I have a ride in it?’ one of the older boys asked.
‘Sorry, lad. Not this time.’ Murray climbed out and went round to the other side to open the door for June.
The boy shrugged and swaggered off on his own.
‘Miss – you got any sweets?’ from a girl with ginger curls and a runny nose.
June brought out a small bag of toffees to offer her a couple; quick as a dart the child grabbed the whole bag and made off with it, shouting with glee at her prize.
‘They were for us to have in the theatre,’ she said ruefully.
‘She needs a treat more than we do,’ Murray said, slamming the car door shut. He held out his arm and June took it.