by Annie Groves
‘Excuse me, ma’am, would you like to share my umbrella to cover your golden curls?’
Dulcie only just stopped herself from telling the owner of the polite American accent where he could put his umbrella. She’d had enough of Americans and wasn’t in the habit of being picked up in the street.
If he was really interested in her, he could catch her in a West-End dancehall every fourth weekend, when she had time off from the munitions factory and her golden curls were temporarily released from the turbaned headscarf they were forced to wear to protect their hair from being caught in the powerful machines.
Lifting her eyes to tell him in no uncertain terms where he could go, Dulcie was amazed to see the most gorgeous silver-blue eyes she had seen for a long time. Quickly re-thinking the angry retort she gave a trembling half-smile and wondered if her mascara had run all the way down her cheeks.
‘Are you okay, ma’am? You look upset.’
‘Thank you for asking,’ Dulcie answered, noticing the wings on his immaculate uniform and realising he was an airman, and reminding herself that moments earlier she had sworn she would have no more to do with them. But nobody else knew of her self-imposed promise so her volte-face could not be held against her. Anyway, she thought, he didn’t seem like the loud, brash Wilder. This one seemed kind and, by the sound of his softly spoken enquiry, she couldn’t even begin to compare the two men and, Dulcie thought, giving him her most demure smile, she shouldn’t throw all the eggs out because one had gone off. Maybe she shouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to give him the cold shoulder after all.
He was being kind and thoughtful offering her the shelter of his umbrella in this torrential downpour as the bus stop was full, and a girl shouldn’t refuse herself a little male attention, especially when she had been so badly deceived by someone she thought she loved – even more so when she had been betrayed by her sister and her boyfriend, she thought, her heart now full of retaliation. A little harmless flirtation with a handsome man did wonders for a girl’s ego.
‘Can I get you anything? I see you’ve snapped your shoe.’ His striking eyes looked so caring and she realised she hadn’t been exactly hospitable to this young man who was a long way from home. She rummaged in her bag under the protection of his umbrella, as much to collect her thoughts as to retrieve the gold compact she had treated herself to when she left Selfridges to work in the higher-paid munitions factory.
‘I tripped on a broken pavement,’ Dulcie simpered. ‘I’ve just had a terrible shock.’
‘I am so sorry. Ma’am, is there anything I can do?’
‘How good of you, I think I just need to sit down for a while,’ Dulcie said as she popped the concealed button on the side of her compact. She gasped when she saw the black rivulets of mascara that had run down her once perfectly made-up face.
‘You look beautiful to me, ma’am,’ said the young airman. ‘In fact I don’t think I’ve seen a better-looking woman since I got over here a month ago.’
‘Flatterer.’ Dulcie could feel the delicious warmth only a really good compliment could bring, and wondered how he could say such a thing when she now had panda eyes, and long white tracks where her tears had smudged her pan-stick foundation. ‘I looked perfect until …’ She paused. She had only just met this man, she wasn’t going to pour her heart out on the street, and without any hint of self-consciousness or false modesty she dabbed at the dark track lines.
The amused airman, standing so close, still holding the umbrella over her head, smiled as she expertly applied a slick of vermilion lipstick to her bee-stung lips. After pressing them together, revelling in his complete attention, Dulcie turned to the airman and pouted in the same way she used to do when she worked the busiest beauty counter in Selfridges. Without warning the airman took her actions as an open invitation, and he kissed her full on her ruby-red lips. When he let her go Dulcie gasped, completely taken aback.
‘How dare you!’ she exclaimed, secretly delighted.
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but you are so irresistible, I couldn’t help myself.’ He then went red to the tips of his ears and gave her a bashful smile. Dulcie knew she couldn’t be angry with him.
‘You had no right to steal a kiss from me like that,’ she smiled coquettishly. ‘You saucy devil … just you wait to be invited next time.’
‘I am so sorry, ma’am; I don’t know what came over me.’ Then they both laughed, and for a moment Dulcie forgot that her sister had just run off with her man.
‘Would you like to go for a drink?’ asked the airman. ‘You look like you could do with one.’
‘It’s that obvious,’ Dulcie said, remembering again. And then, perhaps as a gesture of retaliation for what Edith had done, she decided that two could play at that game. ‘I’d be delighted,’ she said as she took the arm he offered, helping her across the road to the little pub opposite the train station. Once inside, much to her embarrassment, he removed her shoe and then the offending strap leaving just a sling-back and the front peep toe.
‘It looks great,’ said Dulcie, ‘but what about the other – they are now odd.’
‘May I?’ he asked as he removed her other shoe and as Dulcie nodded her consent he took a penknife from his trouser pocket and sliced off the other ankle strap. ‘There,’ he said, satisfied with his wonderful handiwork. ‘They’re both the same again now.’
‘Thank you,’ Dulcie said, slipping the straps into her clutch bag. ‘I suppose Olive will soon find a use for these.’
The airman laughed as he went to the bar and got them both a drink. A young Tommie sitting in the corner with his pals gave Dulcie a withering look as if to ask if Englishmen weren’t good enough for the likes of her.
Dulcie turned her attention to the posters on the wall advertising Dobie’s Four Square cigarettes and the smily face in the froth of a glass of milk stout; she didn’t want any trouble and she knew that some British men were very touchy about ‘their’ girls fraternising with American servicemen and had all sorts of unattractive names for them. But she wasn’t one of them. She was just upset and being helped by a kindly airman. After her drink she was going straight back home.
After finishing her third port and lemon Dulcie realised she wasn’t so angry now and she certainly didn’t want to scream any more. Feeling very mellow indeed, she told the airman all about her sister and her boyfriend. She hadn’t meant to tell him – she didn’t want to tell anybody, sensing that in some way it might have been her fault for keeping Wilder at arm’s length, but the alcohol had loosened her tongue somewhat.
However, her new beau reassured her that Wilder’s infidelity couldn’t possibly be her fault, she couldn’t be blamed for picking the bad apple in the barrel, and assured her that all American servicemen were not all like that at all.
‘Another drink?’ the airman asked and Dulcie nodded, feeling cordially tipsy, so much so that when the piano player struck up a popular tune she joined in with all the enthusiasm of a practised entertainer. She would show them that her voice was as good as their Edith’s.
The bar was crowded and the airman had been gone a while. Long enough for Dulcie to gather her thoughts.
Edith, it was true, had a better voice and was more popular, it had to be said – no wonder she had taken her sweetheart, Dulcie thought, knowing he was the gift that she was never going to get any enjoyment from. And, whereas Edith never felt she had to wait her turn or be grateful for cast-offs, Dulcie was used to being second-best. And it was the insecurity of seeing her younger sister being fussed and preened over from the moment she was born that made her what she was today, Dulcie was sure.
‘You were dreaming with your eyes half-closed there, honey,’ the airman said as he brought more drinks to the table. Dulcie wondered if she’d had enough but he soon managed to persuade her that she’d had a shock, and drinking port and lemon was good for shocks, he laughed.
The last drink seemed to disappear much quicker than the others, Dulcie noticed, and dragging he
r thoughts from the doldrums she once more joined in with the rousing chorus of songs.
‘Bless ’em all, bless ’em all, the long and the short and the tall …’ Dulcie swayed along with everybody else and very soon the room began to swim.
‘Are you all right, ma’am?’ said the airman, whose name she hadn’t yet asked for. Dulcie nodded and scrambled to the door for fresh air.
‘I’ll be fine in a minute,’ she said, holding up her hand to keep him at bay in case she deposited the alcoholic contents of her empty stomach onto the pavement. After a few huge gulps of balmy summer air she was able to nod to let him know she was better now.
‘Do you want to go back inside?’ he asked and Dulcie gently shook her head. Instead, she allowed herself to be escorted with his protective arm around her tiny waist towards Article Row.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful night?’ he asked, supporting her as she leaned a very sleepy head on his shoulder. It was lovely, Dulcie thought, taking in the sweet scent of parkland grass.
‘C’est la vie,’ she said lazily, having read the phrase in a magazine. She had been dying to try it out even if it didn’t fit the occasion, as she slipped her hand around his slim hips to huddle close. If Wilder didn’t appreciate her then there were plenty of men who did.
They were halfway down Keynes Road, sauntering alongside each other without a care in the world, when the warning banshee wail of the air raid began. Dulcie giggled, she knew her way around the area, and she knew there was an air-raid shelter in the park.
‘Here,’ she said, her voice slurred, ‘let’s cut through here.’ She took his hand and pulled him towards the low coil of barbed wire, realising that under ordinary circumstances she would never have dared do this with a stranger. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances and he wasn’t a stranger now.
‘I know where the shelter is,’ she quipped, noticing all the railings had been taken away to help build war planes and the park was quite open except for the low roll of spiked wire. Then to her complete surprise and obvious delight she felt his strong hands lift her up with ease, and the handsome airman whose name she hadn’t even asked carried her over it.
‘That was close, ma’am,’ he said, taking off his jacket and laying it on the grimy wooden bench that went along the wall of the empty air-raid shelter. Dulcie was about to protest when she remembered that she was wearing her best skirt and didn’t fancy ruining it on a grimy seat so instead she smiled and decided to make herself comfy for the duration of the raid.
‘Can we have less of the “ma’am” please, Soldier.’ Dulcie giggled again. ‘You make me sound like Methuselah’s mother.’ She paused and gave a thoughtful pout. ‘Well, his sister at least.’ Then she laughed, really laughed as if she had heard something so delightful. He made her feel good, this handsome GI, and ever so glad she’d met him.
‘I don’t know who this Methuselah guy is. Ma’am. but …’
‘Dulcie,’ she sighed. ‘My name is Dulcie.’ She gave another throaty laugh and she rocked a little as he enfolded her in his arms whilst she tried focus on his handsome features. He was so close now she could smell the clean fresh tang of his cologne.
‘Well, Dulcie, that’s some raunchy laugh you got there if you don’t mind my saying …’
‘Not at all,’ Dulcie all but whispered. ‘And you are?’ She noticed a delicious, unexpected warmth rise to certain parts of her body, making her feel decadent. She had never felt this way before. Not even with Wilder. He was closer now. The nearer he got the more her desire soared. And the more she craved his lips on hers. Maybe this was what they meant when they talked about their finest hour. Another giggle was only a whisper away and she watched him from under her lashes.
‘Well, Dulcie.’ His voice was low, intimate, with a little catch to it, and he never took his eyes from her. ‘My name’s Reece Redgrave the third …’
‘The third?’ Dulcie drawled and he told her yes in his deep Southern accent and Dulcie’s heart melted right there. He felt so powerful holding her like that, tanned and muscled in all the right places, and he was so polite: soothing her nerves, making her feel so special, unlike Wilder … Dulcie didn’t want to think of Wilder’s treachery now.
She wanted to forget the death and destruction going on around them and, if she was honest, even forget poor, injured, incapacitated David who flashed through her thoughts momentarily. What kind of a life would he have now? Who would have thought it? Fit and agile one minute … Then … But those thoughts were for another time. Now she needed strong arms around her to feel safe and above all she wanted, no, needed, to be desired.
Wilder never paid her the compliments that Reece was doing now. He never made her feel like a red-blooded woman the way Reece did. And if she was perfectly honest she wanted Reece to … Well, she couldn’t put into words what she wanted him to do, not even to herself.
Her heart, beating faster now, caused her breath to come in small, shallow pants as she pushed the fallen fringe from her eyes with both hands and crossed her legs, allowing her shoe to dangle from her red-painted toes, enjoying his lingering, open appreciation of her body.
‘So, Reece Redgrave the third.’ Dulcie’s voice came in short, whispering gasps. ‘Why don’t you sit here next to me.’ She tapped the wooden bench with her long red fingernails after making herself comfortable on Reece’s uniform jacket and in no time at all he was sitting so close to her she could feel every muscled curve of his body.
When he nuzzled her ear Dulcie giggled as the delicious ripples of pleasure woke up parts of her body she didn’t know existed before and as Reece trailed feathery butterfly kisses on her neck and décolletage, causing her to throw her head back in delicious abandonment, ignoring the swimming sensation in her head. Dulcie knew what was going to happen next and she savoured the anticipation as his lips sought hers.
Live for today, she thought lazily. Live for the moment. Tomorrow may never come. Suddenly Reece Redgrave was kissing her with an urgency and passion that made her head spin. Dulcie was caught up in a haze of desire so enjoyable she never wanted it to stop.
The clean, fresh tang of his cologne had her wanting more … much more … A small, involuntary groan escaped her lips as his kisses rained across her neck, her eyes, and her lips. They were breathing in shallow, panting unison now, and she did nothing to stop Reece as ricochets of delight exploded through her body.
Feeling reckless and wildly excited Dulcie could not get enough of Reece Redgrave the third. Tonight was the night she was going to lose her virginity! The alcohol she had consumed gave her an air of indestructibility. Nothing mattered now. She didn’t care one iota. They were alone in the shelter; obviously the earlier deluge had kept people away. It was so right.
‘Kiss me … Kiss me …’ Her voice came in small guttural bursts and she found it hard to breathe. Arching her back Dulcie accepted his exploring hands as they roamed every inch of her yielding body. She knew she had never let Wilder go so far … never let any man … go this far …
‘You sure are beautiful, Dulcie …’ Reece was panting now, his hands feverishly pushing up the tight, pencil-slim skirt and gently pushing his fingers beneath the rim of her silk cami-knickers, pulling at her suspenders and stroking the warm silken flesh that peeped over her stocking tops.
‘I never … thought … it would be … this easy.’ His words were coming in short sharp gasps now and it took a moment for their meaning to sink into the fog.
Easy?
All yearning disappeared suddenly, as the word sank into the craving miasma … The realisation hit Dulcie like a slap in the face.
Easy?
He was intimating that she was no better than the ‘Piccadilly commandos’ who plied their trade in Soho! How could he? He had been so polite. So charming and so, so convincing.
Dulcie opened her eyes and saw him, lost in the grip of passion, oblivious to anything around him. The glazed expression of his once-beautiful eyes told her that he wasn’t seeing her at al
l. She could have been anybody.
Lifting her head, feeling suddenly soiled, Dulcie looked at Reece, lost in the same trance of ecstasy she had been consumed by just moments before. This isn’t what she wanted any more. They hadn’t even stopped to … to … Oh no, she thought frantically. How could she have been so stupid?
‘Get off me!’ Dulcie cried, pushing him away, but he was too strong for her. All desire was gone now and tears ran down her face. It was futile to try and get him off her. He was too far gone to stop now.
The loud-mouthed, uncouth girls back at the munitions factory who boasted about their nocturnal exploits with American servicemen flashed through her mind. She had scorned them as common, unladylike. But here she was, doing exactly the same thing. Worse, in fact. She’d never heard any of the girls say they had been seduced in an air-raid shelter by a man they had met only minutes before!
‘Get off me!’ She had gone too far, she’d behaved like an alley cat. She hadn’t meant to lead him on … It wasn’t her fault! ‘Leave me alone, leave me … .’ But it was too late, she could tell. And, as inexperienced as she was, Dulcie knew he was spent, as every muscle relaxed on top of her.
The deed, she refused to call it lovemaking, was over in mere moments. It would have taken longer to make a cup of tea, she realised as he got up and fixed his pants and tucked in his shirt without looking at her. It would have taken longer to smoke the cigarette he was now offering her. Then, to her absolute horror, she saw Reece Redgrave slide to his knees and with his head buried in her lap he sobbed like a baby. She didn’t know what to do. She had never seen a man behave like this before. He was saying something, his words barely coherent.