by Lorna Peel
“We don’t have clubs like this in Ireland,” she told him. “Well, not where I came from, anyway. So this is lovely.”
“I’m glad,” he replied and, to her relief, led her back to the table as a more uptempo set began. She saw him fighting to gather his thoughts together by the way he gripped his glass tightly in one hand while rubbing the side of his nose with the other. “Would you like to go out with me again, Kate?” he asked, sounding surprisingly nervous.
“Don’t you have plenty of other women you could take out?” she joked, instantly regretting it when hurt sprang into his eyes.
“I want to take you out,” he said and put his glass down. “I’ve enjoyed this evening. It’s been the first time in ages that I’ve been to the pictures and actually watched the film.” He grimaced and she knew it was his turn to regret hasty words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”
“I know, but you pleasantly surprised me.”
“I did?”
“Yes, by not trying to kiss and touch me,” she explained. “Thank you.”
He sat back in his seat and sighed. “I was warned not to. I wanted to kiss you.” Picking up his glass, he drained it. “But I thought I’d better not; I might give you the wrong impression of me. I have to admit that I’m no angel.”
It was the first time he had acknowledged he had a reputation and she couldn’t let it pass. “In what way?” she asked and his eyes widened at her bluntness.
“Well.” She saw him glance at his glass, clearly wishing he hadn’t emptied it. “I’m rarely short of a date, let’s put it that way.”
“Oh, I see. So I am just the latest in a long, long line of women?”
“Well, er, yes, you are,” he confessed, his face contorting in embarrassment.
“I’m curious, that’s all. You ask me out, Bob warns you not to do anything improper, and you think, ‘This one’s going to be too much trouble – just be nice, watch the film with her, and get the date over and done with – then move on’.”
“It was my father, actually,” he told her frostily. “Not Bob. And I don’t want to ‘move on’.”
“Your father, my uncle.” She shrugged. “What does it matter? Is this ‘date’ just a complete waste of time for both of us?”
He shook his head. “I hope not. I asked you out because you’re beautiful. I never intended to do anything inappropriate this evening and I didn’t need to be warned. I may be no angel, but I do know how to behave with a lady, and I certainly don’t see you as being ‘too much trouble’.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.”
“I really do want to see you again, Kate.”
“Despite being warned off me by your father?” she asked.
“He didn’t. He told me to treat you properly, which I have, and you’ve appreciated it.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Kate.” He leaned forward, having to raise his voice against the music. “I would like to take you out again on New Year’s Eve. We could come here if you’d like? I’d be happy to teach you to dance to this music.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the jazz band.
“Yes, thank you, that would be very nice,” she replied straight away.
“Great.” He looked and sounded taken aback at her lack of hesitation. “Well.” He sat back in his chair. “That’s settled, then.”
“I’m sorry if I offended you,” she relented. “I can be a bit direct and I had to be sure.”
“I noticed,” he replied with a wry smile. “But you didn’t offend me at all.”
He drove back to Dunstan Street at top speed, but they lingered in the car outside number 26 in the pitch black.
“The blackout is awful, isn’t it?” she said. “I hate walking home from work in the dark. Someone cycled right into me the other evening.”
“Be careful,” he warned her and she felt him reach for her hand, squeeze it, and hold onto it.
“I will. Still, I won’t be doing it for much longer. I’ve decided to join the WAAF.”
“Have you told your aunt and uncle?” he asked.
“Not yet. Telling my parents will be the hardest.”
“Why? They’ll try and talk you out of it?”
“Yes.” She frowned into the darkness. “I’m their only child.” And Daddy hates the British, and will never forgive me, she added silently.
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway.” She pushed it firmly to the back of her mind and concentrated on his thumb, which was moving deliciously back and forth over the back of her hand. “What time on New Year’s Eve?”
“About eight again? And I’m afraid we can’t be too late back. My leave ends the following morning.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” When would his next leave be? If she joined up would they have leave at the same time? Probably not. When would she see him again? To her surprise, tears stung her eyes. “I’d better go.” She reluctantly withdrew her hand from his and got out of the car. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Charlie.”
“Will you come to number 25 for a nightcap?”
“No.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Thanks, but it’s late. I’d better go inside.”
“I’ll walk you to the door.” Getting out, he hurried around the car and took her hand. They made their way carefully up the drive and stood at the bottom of the steps.
“Goodnight, Charlie. Thank you again.”
“My pleasure,” he whispered. “I can’t see your face, so…” He lifted her hand and kissed it.
“Goodnight,” she replied, feeling herself blush, and climbed the steps and went into the house.
In her room, she sat on her bed, hugging her knees. He thought she was beautiful. He had wanted to kiss her – kiss her properly – but had been gentlemanly enough not to. She lay back on the bed and sighed happily to herself. He wasn’t just nice, she decided, he was lovely.
In the morning, she jerked her head up from her breakfast and saw her uncle smiling at her.
“Bob calling Kate? Come in Kate?”
“I’m sorry.” She put her cup of coffee down. “I was miles away.”
“I saw that. How was it?”
“I had a lovely time. The film was excellent and Charlie was a real gentleman.”
“He was?” Bob exclaimed. “Good.”
“Did he kiss you?” Helen added, waving a hand at her husband as he protested.
“Only on the hand,” she replied and Helen’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m going out with him again on New Year’s Eve to a jazz club.”
“Again?” Helen shot a worried glance across the table at Bob and Barbara.
“Please be careful, Kate,” Helen begged. “Please tell me you’ll be careful?”
“But there’s no need.”
“There is,” Bob informed her. “I’ve never heard of Charlie taking the same girl out twice.”
“Oh,” she said, feeling utterly deflated.
“I don’t think she should go,” Helen told her husband as if Kate wasn’t at the table with them. “Especially to a jazz club. Some of those places are quite disgusting.”
“Helen, Kate is old enough to make her own mind up.”
“We are responsible for her, Bob,” Helen snapped. “Anyone else, and I wouldn’t mind, but a second date with Charlie Butler? No.”
“I am still here,” Kate intervened and they turned to her. “I am old enough to decide. And I am going.”
“Promise me, you’ll be careful, Kate?” Helen urged and she nodded.
“I will,” she replied, her heart thumping with nerves. “I promise.”
As they were going to the club, Kate decided to wear an electric blue knee-length dress and black high-heeled shoes. When Charlie’s dark eyes nearly popped out of his head, she blushed, knowing she’d made the right choice. Going down the steps to the car doing up her coat, she felt snowflakes on her cheeks and hands and waited a few moments while Charlie pulled the car hood up. He held the door for her as she go
t in then ran around to the driver’s side.
He parked near the club and reached for his gas mask case. Taking her hand, he helped her inside as the pavements were becoming slippery. After leaving their coats with the cloakroom attendant, he led her through the smoky club to the table they had occupied before and held her chair as she sat down.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked, taking a box of matches from his pocket and lighting the candle, before sitting down opposite her. “Something to warm you up? A brandy?”
“Yes, please.”
He ordered two brandies, lit the candle again when a couple walked past and it blew out, and they lapsed into a silence which wasn’t even broken when their drinks arrived.
Kate looked down at her hands, wondering what was wrong. Surely, he couldn’t be regretting asking her out again already?
“What do you think 1940 will bring?” she asked. “A new year and a new decade.”
“I know. I have no idea. Oh, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “We should be enjoying ourselves, but I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“You could write to me.”
“Could I?” His face lit up and she nodded.
“I don’t know where I’ll be, especially when I join up, but I would like us to keep in touch, Charlie.”
“Good.” He grinned at her. “I thought you mightn’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Well, I—” He faltered at her bluntness again. “I just thought that after… I’ll give you my address.”
She sipped her brandy as he pulled his wallet out of his tunic’s inside pocket and began to rummage about in it for a piece of paper. He extracted what looked like a page torn out of a notebook, an inch of pencil, along with something else which fell onto the table.
“Oh, no.” He groaned and she raised her eyes to his face – it was puce with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, grabbed the little envelope and stuffed it back in his wallet.
What was it? It was clearly causing him a great deal of discomfort, but curiosity got the better of her and she leaned forward. “What was that?” she whispered.
He looked up at her, swallowed noisily, and she watched his Adam’s apple move up and down.
“Don’t you have them in Ireland?” he asked.
“How can I answer if I don’t know what it was?”
He squirmed and cleared his throat. “It was a… a condom.”
“Oh.” Blood rushed to her face. “Charlie, I hope you’re not thinking…” She tailed off, not quite knowing how to continue.
“No,” he cried, and more blood pumped into his face as couples at surrounding tables turned to stare at them. “No, of course not. Oh, God.” He lowered his head into his hands.
“Charlie?” She touched his arm. “I like you very much, but I do know that you have had… women. I mean,” she smiled, “I’m only nineteen, but I do know that much.”
“What?” His head jerked up, making her jump. “You’re only nineteen?”
He seemed so horrified, her heart began to thump for all the wrong reasons.
“Yes. Why? What age did you think I was?”
“Twenty-two, twenty-three, at least,” he gasped. “Oh, God.”
My clothes and makeup, she thought, getting to her feet. “Charlie, we seem to have been very much mistaken about each other.” She reached for her gas mask case, hoping she wouldn’t cry, and cursing herself for not believing Helen and Bob and letting her guard down. “I’m very sorry.”
“No, Kate, please?” He stood up so quickly his chair toppled over backwards, just missing his own gas mask case, and grabbed her arms. “Please stay?” he pleaded, his hands sliding down to hers and squeezing them. “Please?”
When she nodded, he released her hands, and she retook her seat. Picking up his chair, he sat down, rubbing the side of his nose, and she waited for him to gather his thoughts.
“Kate, I’m sorry. I did think you were older. I mean, I’m twenty-seven. You don’t look or act like a nineteen-year-old.”
She gave him a weak smile. “When I arrived in London, I looked like a scarecrow and Helen refused to be seen out with me. As soon as she could, she bought me clothes, shoes, and makeup, and got my hair cut and styled. We thought it would help me to get a job but looking back I realise it was very over the top. I did get a job, but it brought me the trouble with Mr Graham, so now I’ve modified my style so I don’t look like a scarecrow or a clown anymore.”
“Mmm,” he replied and she frowned. “I saw you,” he explained. “I was driving back to base and I saw you getting out of a cab and walking up the drive. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough for me. Kate, can we start again? Please?”
Kate peered down at her hands and heard Charlie sitting back in his chair. It creaked, and he sighed. How should she answer? What about Bob and Helen’s warnings? What about what her father would say? What about her feelings for Charlie? There was no denying she had some and she bit her bottom lip. This was only the second time they had gone out together. Was this all happening far too soon?
“Be careful.” Bob and Helen’s words echoed around her head and she couldn’t ignore them so she leaned forward. “Are you sure you want to go out with a nineteen-year-old girl from Ireland?” she asked and seeing the indecision in his eyes, her heart sank. “I need to know, Charlie. I’ve let my guard down once and I’m not doing it again unless I know.”
“Bob warned you about going out with me again, didn’t he?” he asked instead of answering. “No, it’s all right, I’d be amazed and disappointed in him if he hadn’t. Charlie Butler – be careful, he gets through more women than hot dinners. Kate, if you just want to be seen with a pilot on your arm who makes you feel all grown up then I will find a cab and send you back to Dunstan Street right now.”
“Bob warned me the first time, it was Helen who warned me about going out with you again. And I can also hear my father shouting at me in my head. You’re British, Charlie, and you’re in the British armed forces, so he’s going to hate you.” His dark eyes widened in shock, but she continued. “Charlie, I don’t need someone like you to make me feel all grown up. I’ve been all grown up since the age of twelve when I was sent away from home to boarding school. I’m here, despite Bob, despite Helen, despite my father, and despite my own reservations because I like you very much and I want to get to know you better. So, if you aren’t all grown up enough to handle that, then I will be the one calling a cab and sending you home.”
He stared at her and she returned his stare defiantly before he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Yes, I am grown up enough,” he said. “And, yes, Bob’s right, Helen’s right, my father’s right, I have been with a lot of women, but none of them has ever had the effect that you have on me. So, Kate Sheridan, aged nineteen, from Ireland, would you like to go out with me?”
She’d half-expected him to say no, so she examined her hands, inhaling and exhaling a long nervous breath. Without lifting her head, she studied him from under her lashes. He had reached for his glass and a lock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead. The chair creaked as he swirled his brandy about in the glass. His lips were pursed, he seemed completely dejected at her delay in replying, and despite all the warnings whirring around her head, her heart went out to him.
“Yes, Charlie,” she said. “I would like to go out with you. Will you give me your address so I can write to you?”
“You really want to?” He put the glass on the table. “You’re not just being kind?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m not just being kind. Will you give me your address before I change my mind?”
He scribbled it down and passed the page to her. She read it before putting the page in her pocket. Flight Lieutenant Charles Butler.
“Write often?” he asked. “Even if it’s only about the weather?”
She laughed. “I promise. Now, are you going to ask me to dance, Charlie?”
The band was playin
g a slow set and she put her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair, finding it lusciously soft and silky. His hands went around her waist, but they soon slid up her back and held her close against him. This is lovely, she smiled, breathing in his unique scent. Make the most of it. She closed her eyes and they swayed together until she felt his hands move up her body and cup her face.
“I thought you’d gone to sleep,” he said softly, gently raising her head.
“No, I was just… What’s the time?”
He released her and looked at his watch. “Ten to twelve.”
“How far is Trafalgar Square from here?”
“Only a couple of minutes’ walk.”
“Can we bring in the New Year there?”
“All right,” he said, taking her hand. “We’d better hurry.”
Out on the street, it was very cold but it had stopped snowing. Kate pulled the collar of her coat up as they hurried along the pavement hand-in-hand. In the square, they ran around Nelson’s Column to get out of the wind, and out of the way of other New Year revellers. She shivered, then smiled as Charlie began to rub her shoulders before putting his arms around her and holding her tight against him again.
“Not long now,” she murmured.
“No. Oh, listen.” She felt him tense as Big Ben struck midnight. “1940. Happy New Year, Kate.”
“And you, Charlie.”
When her eyes became used to the darkness of the blackout, she saw his hands reach for her face and clasp her cheeks. Expecting him to kiss her, she felt a sharp pang of disappointment when his lips just brushed her cheek, before he broke away and launched into a very loud and tuneless rendition of Auld Lang Syne.
“Charlie?” she called after him, wondering why he hadn’t kissed her properly. “Charlie, stop. People will think you’re drunk. You’ll get yourself arrested.”
“No, I won’t,” he replied, then slid on some ice and fell over. “Ow.” He groaned. “Bloody gas mask.”
“Charlie?” She edged forward and fell over his feet. “Oh, my gas mask.”
“Kate. Kate?” His voice grew anxious as she heard him crawling towards her. “Are you all right? Bloody hell, it’s cold.”