The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,57
how to behave, because I know all the Americans did …’
‘Brief?’ I asked, buttoning up my ATA tunic and glancing down at my wings with a smile. Marie waved her hand dismissively.
‘Oh, she means some bullcrap we all got – just after we got off the boat – about fitting in with you guys. Some buttoned-up suit read us the riot act – how to behave in Britain. No showing off, no flashing our American dollars around and absolutely no annoying the natives. A damn cheek, if you ask me. If not for the U-boats I’d have jumped right back on that ship and sailed home!’ Marie turned to Anna. ‘I don’t give a damn what those po-faced prudes say, and neither should you! None of us knows what tomorrow might bring, and if I’m going down, then I tell you now, honey pie, I’m going down dancing …’ She softened and linked arms with Anna, who was looking more than a little apprehensive. ‘Oh, stop your fussing and worrying. You’re gonna have a fabulous time tonight!’
We grabbed our cardboard gas mask cases which were hanging on the pegs by the door. ‘Oh, I meant to say,’ Marie went on, ‘The Billy Townsend band is playing at the Empire, how d’ya fancy meeting up with some old friends of mine at the Savoy, first …’
‘Friends?’ I asked, closing the door behind us and placing the key under a cracked tile.
‘Just some Navy guys, and Dirk might be there …’
‘Dirk?’ I asked, stepping through the door.
‘Bogarde. You know. The actor.’
Anna and I stopped. Our mouths gaped.
‘What now?’ Maire asked, genuinely surprised at our incredulity. ‘I know him. He’s a nice guy. A bit annoying when he’s drunk, but aren’t they all? But listen, one of the Navy guys is a real hottie and I need you gals on my wing tonight, just don’t let me flirt too much.’
Anna sighed again.
‘If you sigh one more time, Anna Beatrice Moore!’ Marie chided, linking her arms through ours and marching us down the road towards her car. ‘It’s only dancing – except maybe the sirens will go and we’ll all get blown to kingdom come, then maybe – finally – you’ll both listen to me about having a good time!’
The air raid warning did sound that night, but not before we had spent a couple of hours settling into what promised to be a fabulous evening. The ‘Navy guys’ Marie had referred to were not simply junior officers, but men of high rank and great significance in the War Office, with a great deal of gold visible on their jacket sleeves. Marie had been right when she said that wearing our uniforms into town would guarantee us the best tables and heaps of attention. The women of the ATA had caused quite a stir in the press and, much to Anna’s annoyance (and my amusement and Marie’s delight) once settled into the dancehall we became celebrities of sorts, but my wedding ring acted as a significant enough buffer to keep some, but not all, male attention at bay. I spent the evening sitting at a table chatting to a happily married man RAF pilot. He was flabbergasted to find that ATA pilots were expected to fly in some fairly dodgy weather, without any understanding of how to fly blind – in cloud. Seeing it as his moral duty to correct this, we spend the evening conducting an impromptu lesson on instrument flying, which I loved.
The surprise of the evening was Anna, who – much to Marie’s delight – had an absolute humdinger of a time. I was sitting quietly for a moment, watching her swirling around the dance floor with yet another suitor in tow, when the air raid warning sounded. The sad, monotone drone of the siren was all too familiar to us now, and although unnerving, did not send us into a frenzied scramble towards the shelters as it once might have done, although perhaps, tonight, it should have.
Billy Townsend silenced the band and announced that we should all make our way to the exits and head to the nearest tube station, which was only a street away, to take shelter. Anna made her way towards me from the dance floor and I glanced around to find Marie. I couldn’t see her anywhere, but I did see someone else, standing across the ballroom as if freeze-framed in space and time, the crowd ebbing as one continuous movement past him.