by Lynn Austin
17
ENGLAND, FEBRUARY 1943
Eve was eating supper in the mess hall with Audrey when the sergeant major walked in. The woman stood for a moment, gazing around the hall as if searching for someone in particular. Eve groaned. “Oh no. Hide under the table, Audrey. Quick!”
“Why?”
“The Mouse just walked through the door and I think she’s looking for a victim.” Eve scrunched lower in her chair, keeping her head down, even though it probably wouldn’t help if the Mouse was searching for them. Audrey’s glorious amber hair and aristocratic posture set her apart from all the other women.
“She can’t make us drive on our weekend off, can she?” Audrey asked. “We’ve been driving every night for two weeks!”
“She can do whatever she wants. Duck your head, Audrey.”
“Too late. Here she comes.”
The woman strode across the room, shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. The telltale sound had earned her the nickname Mouse, even though Bull would have better fit her build and personality. Eve looked up in dread as the squeaking halted beside their table.
“I’ve been looking for you two. You have tonight off, right?”
“We did . . . ,” Eve mumbled.
“Yes, ma’am,” Audrey said. “We have the weekend off. For the first time this month, in fact.”
“Good. There’s a dance in the village hall tonight for some American officers. You two girls need to be there.”
“Sorry, but I can’t go, ma’am,” Eve said in her most contrite voice. “My boyfriend, who is fighting in North Africa, wouldn’t approve.”
“And I don’t dance very well,” Audrey added.
“I’m not asking you to marry them. Just show them some British hospitality for an evening. They’re saving our necks, for heaven’s sake. Would you rather be sitting in a pub entertaining Hitler?”
“No, ma’am,” Audrey replied.
“Good. Spiff yourselves up, then. The lorry will pick everyone up at seven thirty. I expect to see both of you there.”
“I’d rather drive an ambulance across the English Channel,” Eve said as the woman stalked over to her next victim. Audrey eyed her curiously.
“I thought you liked to dance.”
“I do. But not with a bunch of loudmouthed Americans.”
“Remember the dance you took me to after King George’s funeral?” Audrey asked.
“That seems like ages ago. In a different lifetime.”
“You taught me to dance that night. And we had fun, didn’t we? It helped us forget that the king had just died and that everything was changing.”
“What’s your point?”
“Maybe we need another night of dancing to help us forget.”
The other girls in their dormitory seemed thrilled with the idea. Eve listened to their chatter as they crowded around the mirror, giggling as they primped. “Every American I’ve seen is as handsome as a film star,” one of them said.
“Even their uniforms are glamorous. Not like the drab, baggy ones our men have to wear.”
“I hear they give away cigarettes.”
“And lovely silk stockings.”
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve worn a real pair of silk stockings?”
“Since 1939!” someone shouted. Everyone laughed.
Eve had to admit that the band sounded great. She tapped her feet and sang along to all of the American big band tunes and her favorite Vera Lynn songs. She was glad she’d been coerced into coming after all and was content to sit at a table with Audrey and enjoy the music. Let the other girls flirt with the Americans. “I miss Alfie,” she said as she watched the couples dancing. “He’s a wonderful dancer.” Until he gets drunk, she added to herself.
The hall was so crowded that she didn’t notice the two Americans approaching until they halted in front of her. Both of them were, in fact, as handsome as film stars. One had blue eyes and ginger hair, the other dark eyes and ebony hair. Both were tall and well-built. The ginger-haired one would need to duck to clear the doorframe, and the dark-haired one was only an inch or so shorter.
“You gals look lonely over here,” the ginger one said. “Wanna dance?”
“No thank you,” Eve replied.
“Come on. Just one dance. That’s all. We aren’t looking for true love.” His cocksure American boldness made Eve’s blood boil.
“My friend and I aren’t interested in you American GIs,” she said heatedly. “We don’t need your chocolate bars or your nylons or your cigarettes. You spin a fancy line but you’re here today and gone tomorrow.”
“Geez! Take it easy!” he said, holding up both hands. “I only asked if you wanted to dance!”
“Please excuse my friend,” Audrey said. “We’ve heard stories about love affairs with American servicemen. Most have ended badly.”
The ginger one slid into an empty seat at their table, his long legs barely fitting beneath it. “What kind of stories?”
Eve was about to order him to leave when she saw the Mouse standing a few feet away. Eve huffed in frustration. “There was a girl we knew who believed all your love talk. She ended up in the family way. Next thing she knows, the American father gets himself transferred out of here. No forwarding address. Now, what’s she supposed to do?”
Ginger gave a long, slow whistle. “Geez . . . that’s tough.”
The dark-haired one gestured to the second empty chair. “May I?” he asked politely. “Would you mind? We’ve been on our feet all day.”
“Of course not,” Audrey replied. He pulled out the chair and sat.
“You know what they’re saying about you Americans?” Eve asked. “You’re ‘overpaid, oversexed, and over here.’” Ginger laughed and the sound was warm and friendly, not at all mocking.
“I’m very sorry for the way that some of our fellow Americans have behaved,” Dark Hair said. “My friend Louis and I are just looking for a night off, away from all thoughts of the war.”
“I’m a married man with a baby back home,” ginger-haired Louis said. He held out his left hand to show Eve a gold band on his finger. “Want to see pictures?”
“Yes, in fact, I do,” Eve replied, calling his bluff. He looked too young to be married—in his early twenties like she was, she guessed. He was very fair-skinned with deep-blue eyes and a smile that looked like an advert for tooth powder. Oh yes—as handsome as a film star.
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Eve studied the black-and-white photograph of a young woman holding a bundled baby. She handed back the photo. “Being married doesn’t stop most American men from behaving badly. They think British girls owe them something for coming to our rescue.”
Louis ignored her comment as he returned his wallet to his pocket. “My friend Bob here is practically married. He has a longtime girlfriend waiting for him back home. Wanna see her picture, too?”
“That’s not necessary,” Eve replied. “Just so you know where you stand. I would show you a picture of my boyfriend but I don’t have one with me. He’s fighting in North Africa.” She felt a fist in her stomach at the thought of Nazi artillery shells raining down on Alfie. “I don’t think I’ll survive this war,” he had said.
“Well, this is a very good arrangement, then,” Louis said, tilting his chair back on two legs. “We’ll all have a good time, you won’t have to worry about us making a move, and our girls back home won’t need to worry about you. Can we agree to be friends?” He stuck out his hand for Eve to shake. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for it. The warmth and strength of it made her ache for Alfie’s touch.
“Deal,” she said, clearing her throat. “Just friends.”
“So what are your names?”
“I’m Eve Dawson and this is my best friend, Audrey Clarkson.” She wondered what Audrey thought of these Americans as she gave them her shy smile and shook hands.
“Pleased to meet you, Eve . . . Audrey. I’m Louis Dubois and this is my friend Robert Barrett.
We’re best friends, too, ever since grammar school.”
“From what we’ve seen over here,” Robert said, his voice a soft contrast to Louis’s booming one, “this war has been very hard on you ladies.”
“It has been,” Audrey replied, just as softly. “My home in London was destroyed during the Blitz. Eve and I both lost our mothers.”
“That’s terrible,” Robert said. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful for you.”
Eve didn’t want to think about what they’d suffered and lost. She wanted to listen to the music and forget about the war and her grief for one night. Louis must have felt the same way because he asked, “Can we get you ladies a drink?”
“I’m set,” Eve said, pointing to her half-finished one.
“No thank you,” Audrey said. “I don’t drink.”
Eve knew why, and it was another bitter reminder of Lady Rosamunde’s selfishness and the loss it had cost her. She rose to her feet. “You know what, Louis? Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to dance.” Audrey and Robert could sit by themselves and talk about morbid things if they wanted.
Louis stood and took Eve’s hand. “Great! I like this song.” They wove through the press of people and swing danced to three fast tunes in a row, enjoying every rollicking minute. Then the music slowed. Eve went into Louis’s arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. He was an excellent dancer—better than Alfie, if she dared to admit it. She closed her eyes as Louis held her close, and she pretended he was Alfie.
“My boyfriend’s name is Alfie,” she told him. “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Jean.”
“I’ll bet she misses you. And your baby’s name?”
“Karen. She won’t know who I am when I get home.”
“Where are you from in America?”
“Connecticut. Not far from New York City. And you’re from London?”
“No, I grew up in a little village out in the country, then moved to London to work. I don’t really know where home is, nowadays. The ATS keeps moving us all around, wherever we’re needed.”
“Is your boyfriend from your home village?”
The question startled Eve. Alfie was, and yet he wasn’t. They’d grown up worlds apart.
“Alfie’s home was about a mile from mine.” It was the simplest answer she could give. It would seem like a Cinderella story to describe Wellingford Hall and explain how she’d once been Alfie’s scullery maid.
“Is that where you and he hope to settle when the war ends?” Louis asked.
Tears filled Eve’s eyes. She knew as she swayed in this handsome American’s arms that Alfie was never going to marry her. She was a fool to imagine that she would ever become Mrs. Alfred Clarkson, mistress of Wellingford Hall. Not while Alfie’s father was alive. Her mind knew it, but her heart refused to believe it. “Yes,” she lied. “That’s the plan. . . . Tell me, what do you think of my sad little country?”
“I wish the sun would shine more often, but other than that, I think it’s swell. We never traveled much when I was a kid, so it’s pretty exciting to get out and see the world.”
“Even with Herr Hitler trampling across it, shooting at you?”
Louis’s laugh made her smile. “He does take some of the fun out of it. Especially crossing the Atlantic in a troopship, dodging U-boats.”
Eve and Louis danced to one number after the next. She was having fun, and she couldn’t recall the last time that had happened. Meanwhile, Audrey and Robert seemed deep in conversation, which was unusual for the normally shy Audrey. Eventually the band took a break, and Louis led Eve to the refreshment table. “Wow!” she said. “Look at all this food! It must have come from you Americans. We haven’t seen chocolate or fruit or these wonderful sugary cakes in years!”
“Fill your plate, then. I’ll go save our table so Bob and your friend can get some, too.” They all sat down at the table to eat, and as Eve filled up on sponge cake and fruit tarts, she was glad that the Mouse had ordered them to come.
“You two seem like really good friends,” Eve said after listening to Louis and Robert banter back and forth like a lively game of tennis. “How long have you known each other?”
“Since we were seven or eight years old,” Robert replied. “We played Little League baseball together. Louis’s dad was our coach.”
“We played together on every sports team you can name, after that,” Louis added. He had a habit of twisting his wedding ring as he spoke, as if it fit too tightly. “Then two other buddies, Tom and Arnie, joined us when we were in junior high. The four of us played everything—baseball, football, basketball—you name it.”
“But our favorite is basketball,” Robert said. “The four of us—Louis, Tom, Arnie, and I—were on the greatest team our high school ever produced. We won the state championship two years in a row.”
“Everyone called us the Famous Four,” Louis said. “We all went to college on basketball scholarships, then joined the Army together after Pearl Harbor.”
“It’s a bit of luck for Louis and me to end up here together, considering how far-flung this war is, and all the places we could have been sent.”
“What did you study in college?” Audrey asked.
“Bob is destined to become a lawyer,” Louis said, answering for his friend. “His filthy-rich father and grandfather won’t settle for anything less, right, Bob?”
“So it seems,” he said quietly.
“I studied business. My father owns an insurance company, so I’ve always figured that’s what I’d end up doing. Especially now that I’m married.”
Eve felt a growing uneasiness with the conversation, fearing it would lead to questions about her education. “What about your other two friends?” she asked to prevent them from questioning her.
“Tom’s family owns a dairy farm,” Robert said. “He’s the bashful one, especially when it comes to girls.”
“He never had time for girls,” Louis said, “working as hard as he did, helping out his folks. We used to joke and call him ‘Father Tom,’ as if he was a priest or something, because he’s the kind of guy you can confess all your troubles to, you know? And he’ll tell you the right thing to do. He’s stationed somewhere in the Mediterranean, at the moment. And Arnie is the opposite—a real playboy. He worked as a lifeguard at the country club every summer, showing off his tan, getting all the girls to swoon over him. My kid sister was one of them.”
“Arnie would go steady with a different girl every hour,” Robert said, smiling. “You ladies would really need to watch out for him.”
“Where is Arnie now?” Eve asked.
“I’m not really sure. He studied to be a veterinarian, so the Army decided he should become a medic or something.”
“Arnie also understands German,” Robert added, “so I’m sure Uncle Sam will put that to good use.”
Eve swallowed the last bite of cake and stood. “Let’s dance, Louis. Want to?”
The band had returned from their break and the dancing resumed in full swing. Then, as the clock inched closer and closer to midnight, the music slowed. “If I give you a compliment,” Louis said as they danced to “When the Lights Go On Again,” “you won’t smack me for it, will you?”
Eve grinned. “Why, do I seem like the smacking type?”
“You were a little scary when Bob and I first came to your table.”
“Go ahead. Compliment me. I’m immune to American sweet talk.”
Louis stopped dancing and smiled down at her. “You have the most beautiful freckles I’ve ever seen in my life. They remind me of those little spots on a baby fawn.” For the second time that night, tears filled Eve’s eyes. She turned her head away but it was too late. Louis had already seen them. “Hey, I’m sorry, Eve. Go ahead and smack me if I’ve said something stupid.”
“You didn’t,” she said, wiping them away. “It’s just that my boyfriend loves my freckles, too.”
“And you’re missing him?” Eve nod
ded. Louis pulled her close for a brief hug. “I understand. Sometimes I can barely remember what Jean’s laughter sounds like or how it felt to hold her in my arms. This stupid war has messed up everybody’s life, hasn’t it?”
“Let’s not talk about the war,” Eve said, putting on a brave smile. “Let’s just dance.”
Audrey couldn’t get over how easy Robert Barrett was to talk to. She had never felt this relaxed with a man in her life, especially one she had just met. Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had any expectations. She wasn’t being appraised or analyzed as a potential match among her mother’s social contacts. Robert knew nothing about Wellingford Hall or how wealthy Audrey was. He wasn’t interested in her aristocratic lineage or her father’s financial holdings. Robert was intelligent and well-spoken and seemed, from what he’d told her, to come from a well-to-do family. His dark good looks and olive-black eyes would set any woman’s heart aflutter, but he didn’t seem aware of how handsome he was. He had a quiet intensity and a way of focusing on Audrey as he listened that made it seem as though he could peer into her soul. She’d never met anyone like him.
“So what do you do in the Army?” he asked after Eve and Louis returned to the dance floor.
“I drive an ambulance.”
“Really!” He seemed taken aback.
“We also drive lorries or escort fancy officers around in their staff cars if needed, but we both prefer driving ambulances.”
“And the Army taught you to do this? Surely you didn’t drive for a living before the war.”
“No, I didn’t do much of anything before the war except try to please my mother by socializing with the aristocracy. My parents’ goal was for me to attract a husband who was a good social match—nothing less than an earl, mind you. Now I can change tires and do routine maintenance and repairs on any vehicle in the fleet. And I also drive casualties to hospital, of course.”
“Forgive me if I sound rude, but if you came from an upper class, weren’t there other jobs the Army could have given you? You seem too petite and delicate to be changing tires.”
“I could have had a desk job, but Eve and I wanted to drive. Army service was voluntary when we enlisted. Conscription began in December of ’41, and service is now mandatory for all unmarried women between the ages of twenty and thirty. In fact, King George’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth, enlisted in the same branch as Eve and me. She wears a uniform and changes lorry tires just like the rest of us.”