We'll Meet Again

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Wow!’ Annie breathed.

  For there in front of them were what looked like hundreds of GIs in their smart uniforms, with slicked-down hair and eager expressions. Most of them were already dancing, but there were still plenty hanging about in groups, at the bar or at the edge of the dance floor, obviously looking for partners.

  ‘Hold on to your hats, girls! We’re in for a whoopee time,’ said one of Annie’s friends.

  In as many seconds as it took to walk on to a dance floor, the girls were surrounded by gorgeous young men, all of them meticulously polite and all speaking in that glamorous accent that the girls had only heard at the pictures before. One of them, Annie noticed, had red hair, but he was already speaking to one of the other girls.

  ‘Good evening, miss,’ a tall boy with a crew cut said to her. ‘Would you be so kind as to have the rest of this dance with me?’

  ‘Dairnse’ he pronounced it. Annie was enchanted.

  ‘Thank you, I’d love to,’ she gasped, and was whisked on to the floor.

  Her partner was called Brad, and he whirled her round to the remaining bars of ‘Goodnight Irene’, never once treading on her feet. After him, she danced a quickstep with Howard, a foxtrot with Bernard and a waltz with Sammy. They were all good dancers and all had excellent manners. Annie felt as if she was being treated like a film star. And then the band leader made a surprise announcement.

  ‘In honour of our American guests, the next number is a jitterbug.’

  There was a wave of squeals, groans and applause from the audience. Annie found herself being addressed by the redheaded GI.

  ‘Excuse me, miss, do you jitterbug?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Annie admitted. ‘I’ve never done it.’

  ‘Then now’s the time to try, miss. I’m an expert. Just follow me and you’ll do real dandy.’

  How could she refuse? The band launched into a fast syncopated number with more enthusiasm than skill, and Annie’s new partner led her on to the floor.

  ‘I’m Bobby Joe,’ he introduced himself. ‘And you’re the prettiest little lady on the floor.’

  ‘I’m Annie,’ said Annie, dazzled.

  ‘It’s my lucky day, Annie. I feel it in my bones.’

  After that, she had no breath left for talking. Bobby Joe whirled her round, back, under his arm, in and out, into his arms for a few moments, then back spinning round again. Annie squealed and gasped and found she could trust him. She only had to have the correct hand out to be grasped and he would catch her and send her skipping and whirling round again. The room and the people around her became a blur. There was just the music, the excitement and Bobby Joe, playing her like a child’s toy.

  When the number ended, he swept her into his arms for a last turn, while around them people were applauding their performance. Annie was pink-cheeked, breathless and pulsing with the wild thrill of it.

  ‘That was wonderful!’ she gasped.

  ‘You were wonderful,’ Bobby Joe told her. ‘Are you sure you’ve never done that before?’

  ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘I’d never believe it. You’re a natural.’

  He gave her waist a squeeze and released her. Annie felt a sudden drop of disappointment.

  ‘You were right. You are an expert,’ she said, to hold his attention.

  ‘That’s not the only thing I’m an expert at,’ Bobby Joe told her as he put a hand under her elbow to take her to a seat at the side of the room. ‘Save me another for later?’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Annie spotted Beryl. She was gazing at her with naked envy. Annie’s happiness was complete.

  ‘You bet,’ she said.

  Bobby Joe laughed. ‘You’re a doll,’ he said, and went off into the milling crowd.

  Annie had hardly sat down before she was approached by one of the local boys.

  ‘Are you free for this one, Annie, or do you only dance with Yanks now?’

  Behind him, Annie could see Jeff Sutton coming over with a hopeful expression on his face. Jeff, this one, or one of the Yanks? Such riches, to have a choice of men to dance with! Annie was feeling so warm towards the whole world that she agreed to dance with the man who had just asked her, even though he didn’t have any of the allure of the Americans. She soon regretted it. Her partner complained throughout the entire number.

  ‘You girls were all happy enough to dance with us before, but now these Yanks are here we don’t get a look-in,’ he told her. ‘I’d heard what it was like when they arrived in a place—all the women going crazy for Yanks and running off with them. Married women too! Now I know it’s true. And what’s so wonderful about them anyway? That jitterbug, I ask you, what sort of a dance is that? More like something out of the jungle if you ask me.’

  ‘It was fun,’ Annie maintained. ‘Smashing fun. The best thing I’ve done in ages.’

  Her partner snorted. ‘The Yanks might be good at that sort of thing, but you can’t beat a civilised dance.’

  Annie couldn’t agree. The slow foxtrot might be civilised, but it didn’t make your heart beat and your blood rush like the jitterbug.

  ‘You’re just cross ‘cause you can’t do it,’ she said.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to do it,’ her partner assured her, treading on her toes.

  They shuffled through the rest of the number in silence. Annie looked over his shoulder at the rest of the couples, trying to see who Bobby Joe was dancing with. She spotted him foxtrotting with one of the gang from Sutton’s. He caught her eye and smiled. Annie felt that deep stirring that had lain dormant ever since Tom had gone away and knew that she was alive again.

  She got away from her partner the moment the number ended and was grabbed by one of the Sutton’s girls.

  ‘Ooh, Annie, isn’t this fun? I’m having the time of my life here. Aren’t they super dancers? That Brad is just so handsome. I think I’m in love.’

  ‘You were in love with Jimmy last week,’ Annie teased her.

  ‘Jimmy, ha! He’s got two left feet. It’s Brad for me now. Here—where did you learn to jitterbug? I didn’t dare.’

  ‘Bobby Joe says I’m a natural,’ Annie told her.

  ‘Ooh! So Bobby Joe’s the one, is he?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Annie said.

  But her eyes were scanning the room for his red head, and her breath came a little faster as she saw him coming towards her across the floor. Two more GIs appeared and asked the girls to dance and Annie hastily accepted. As Bobby Joe came up to her, she stepped on to the floor with her new partner, giving Bobby Joe a regretful smile. She was fizzing with excitement. For the first time in her life, she was playing the flirting game and it was intoxicating.

  She allowed Bobby Joe to catch up with her for the last dance before the interval. Feet flashing in perfect unison, they quickstepped round the floor to ‘Chattanooga Choo-Choo’.

  ‘We were told we’d have a real good time at a British dance. Now I know it’s true,’ Bobby Joe said, fishtailing slickly round a slower couple.

  ‘The band’s pretty awful,’ Annie said.

  Bobby Joe didn’t deny this. ‘But the company makes up for it,’ he said.

  ‘How long are you boys here for?’ Annie asked, for surely this abundance wasn’t going to last for ever.

  ‘Who knows? Until they send us over to Europe, I guess. Until then, we’re all out to enjoy ourselves.’

  Until they were sent to Europe. Annie shivered, despite the heat of a room full of dancing bodies. For a moment, she thought of Tom, somewhere in Germany waiting for the Russians to come.

  ‘Why so sad? I thought you were a girl who liked fun,’ Bobby Joe said.

  Annie gave herself a mental shake.

  ‘I am,’ she said with her brightest smile.

  At the end of the number, he led her into the bar and managed to get drinks by way of a buddy of his who had got to the front of the queue. He handed Annie her lemonade and looked doubtfully at the contents of his glass.

  ‘Th
is is beer? It’s warm,’ he said, taking a cautious sip. ‘Tastes like—well, I shan’t say in front of a lady. My idea of a beer is something ice-cool and pale.’

  ‘You’re lucky to get that. They often run out,’ Annie told him.

  Bobby Joe shook his head in amazement.

  He wasn’t particularly handsome. He had very pale skin with a dusting of freckles across his snub nose, ice-blue eyes and a wide American smile. It was the total effect of him—so big and broad-shouldered and confident—that overwhelmed Annie. He was a different type of male altogether from the ones she had been used to.

  ‘Smoke?’ he asked, bringing out a packet of Camels.

  Annie shook her head.

  ‘Mind if I do?’

  ‘No—you go ahead.’

  He flicked at a lighter.

  Annie was fascinated. ‘I’ve only ever seen one of them at the pictures,’ she said.

  ‘The pictures?’ Bobby Joe looked puzzled. ‘What pictures—? Oh, you mean the movies. Are you a fan?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Annie breathed. ‘I go as often as I can.’

  They discussed films and stars. Bobby Joe had seen features that hadn’t even come to London yet, let alone Wittlesham. Annie drank it all in. He was so sophisticated, so worldly-wise.

  ‘I feel like a country bumpkin,’ she said.

  Bobby Joe leaned forward and closed a hand over hers.

  ‘You’re a cute little English rose,’ he said.

  After that, neither of them danced with anyone else. Foxtrot, tango, quickstep, waltz, then another fast and furious jitterbug. Bobby Joe and Annie showed everyone else how it should be done. Annie was walking on air.

  She made a bolt for the ladies before the last waltz. Beryl was in there applying powder to her shiny nose.

  ‘You want to watch it,’ she said to Annie.

  ‘Watch what?’ Annie said.

  She looked at their two reflections in the mirror. Beryl had not lost any weight as she’d grown up but she did now have her hair in a more becoming style. With a surge of triumph, Annie confirmed what she had always known—that she was by far the prettier of the two. It wasn’t just that Beryl didn’t have such nice features, it was her expression. All hoity-toity. It must put the boys off.

  ‘Those Americans,’ Beryl said. ‘You can’t trust them an inch. They’re only after one thing.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Didn’t any of them ask you to dance?’ Annie said. She applied a smear of her precious lipstick.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to. I value my reputation. I don’t want to be known as a little tart. Someone who does the jitterbug.’

  Annie smiled at her reflection. A flushed, excited face smiled back at her.

  ‘That was such fun,’ she enthused.

  She knew Beryl was just jealous.

  ‘Got anyone nice lined up for the last waltz?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course. A decent English fellow.’

  ‘Oh, hard luck. Hope your toes don’t get too trodden on. Those Americans are such gentlemen, such perfect manners,’ Annie told her. ‘Must fly!’

  And she skipped off back to Bobby Joe.

  The last waltz was a romantic dream of swooping melody and the two of them in perfect unison. As the last notes died away, Bobby Joe took Annie’s hand.

  ‘Will you let me take you to the movies tomorrow?’ he asked.

  Annie had never been let out for two evenings on the trot. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

  ‘Depends what we’re going to see,’ she said, deliberately offhand, though her heart was thumping with anticipation.

  ‘There’s Love Story on in town,’ Bobby Joe said persuasively. ‘You said you wanted to see that.’

  ‘Oh, well—all right, then,’ Annie agreed, as if conferring a huge favour.

  She had not felt so feverishly, dangerously happy since that last summer before Tom had joined up. At last, her life was opening up. She had a chance to have fun. It might not last very long, and she was going to wring the last ounce of enjoyment out of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘YOU’RE going out again? He won’t like it.’

  Edna put down the scrubbing brush and sat back on her heels. Her face creased into an even more anxious expression than usual.

  ‘I’m only going to visit one of the Sutton’s girls,’ Annie lied. ‘Vera. You know, Vera Thomson. I was at school with her.’

  It was best, she judged, not to tell her mother anything. She worried enough as it was.

  ‘It’s a pity little Gwen went away. She was a nice friend for you,’ Edna said.

  ‘Yes,’ Annie agreed. ‘I really miss Gwennie. She’s having a wonderful time in the WAACs.’

  But for the first time since her friend had left Wittlesham, Annie didn’t envy her a bit. Gwen might be in the Women’s Auxilliary Army Corps but she didn’t have Americans camped near her.

  Edna gave her a watery smile. ‘I’m so glad you never got called up, dear. I don’t know what I’d do without you here.’

  This time, Annie didn’t go through the familiar loop of regret, envy, guilt that the thought of leaving Marsh Edge Farm brought on. With her date with Bobby Joe beckoning that evening, she was glad she had stayed at home.

  ‘Oh, well, I couldn’t of stood all that marching,’ she said.

  ‘You’re such a good girl. Listen, we’ve got some extra eggs; I’ll do you a nice boiled egg for your tea. How’d you like that?’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ Annie said absently. She was running through the contents of her wardrobe in her mind yet again and trying to decide what to wear for Bobby Joe.

  ‘He likes a boiled egg. That’ll put him in a good mood. You’re not really going out this evening, are you?’ Edna asked.

  ‘I’ll get all my jobs done first. He won’t have anything to be angry about,’ Annie said.

  Edna looked doubtful. They both knew that Walter could find fault even when everything had been done perfectly.

  ‘He won’t like it, though,’ she said.

  ‘Then he’ll have to lump it,’ Annie said.

  Nothing, not even her father, was going to stop her from being outside the Roxy to meet her big American.

  Edna looked frightened. ‘I wish you wouldn’t, dear.’

  Annie tiptoed over the washed area of floor and kissed her mother on the top of her head.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum. It’ll be all right. After all, I’m only going to see an old schoolfriend.’

  There would be hell to pay if her father found out, but for once she was glad that he hated all the other farmers and never talked to anyone unless he had to. It meant that there was very little risk of him hearing about what she was up to on the grapevine.

  Just as Edna predicted, Walter did not like the idea of Annie being out two nights running, but he was in what for him was a good mood and didn’t actually forbid her to go. He made it as difficult as possible and she missed the bus, so that she had to cycle like a woman possessed to get into town anything close to on time. As she flew up the High Street, standing on the pedals, she could see Bobby Joe in his smart uniform standing waiting outside the cinema. Cheeks scarlet, lungs pumping, she swerved down a side street before he could catch sight of her. She flung her bike against a wall, took out her comb, tidied her hair and tried to steady her breath and her pounding heart. Then she made herself walk slowly round the corner.

  Immediately, Bobby Joe saw her, waved and came hurrying up to meet her.

  ‘Hey, am I glad to see you! I was beginning to think you’d blown me out,’ he said. ‘Here, these are for you.’

  He held out a box of chocolates.

  Annie gasped. ‘For me? What—the whole box?’

  Bobby Joe laughed. ‘Well, I won’t say no if you offer me one,’ he said.

  Annie went bright red. ‘I don’t mean—Of course they’re for sharing—but—a whole box! There must be at least a pound in there.’

  Annie gazed at the gift in wonder. It was not just the exc
ess of chocolates. The box itself was so luxurious. It was made of thick gold-coloured card and had a picture of a bouquet of flowers on the top, and it was tied up with pink satin ribbon. Annie ran her fingertips over it.

  ‘No one’s ever given me anything like this before,’ she said.

  Bobby Joe shook his head in disbelief. ‘It’s only a box of candies,’ he said. ‘Shall we go in? The first picture’s about to start.’

  ‘Oh! Yes, I’m sorry I’m late. It was a bit difficult to get away,’ Annie explained. ‘My dad—’

  ‘Got a strict poppa, have you?’ Bobby Joe asked, all sympathy.

  ‘A bit,’ Annie said, pushing the truth.

  ‘I guess he just wants to look out for his little girl. My pop’s the same with my sister.’

  ‘You’ve got a sister?’

  It was strange to think of his belonging to a family.

  ‘Sure have. But she’s not as cute as you.’

  Cute. Nobody had ever called her cute before. Annie shivered with delight. Every anxious moment of getting away from home was worth it for this. She looked up at Bobby Joe. Here she was, Annie Cross, walking along Wittlesham High Street with a real GI, carrying a monster box of chocolates. She hardly needed to go to the cinema. It felt as if she had stepped into a film herself.

  Bobby Joe bought the most expensive seats. They settled down and Annie opened the wonderful chocolate box. The rich aroma of cocoa rose and enveloped her. She breathed it in, her mouth watering, then reached for the tray. As she prised a huge delicious sweet from its moulded nest, Bobby Joe’s fingers brushed hers, sending quivers up her arm. Rich, velvety chocolate caramel melted in her mouth, oozed over her tongue and slid down her throat.