only were the two of them talking together, by the way they were gesturing back towards the table—Dolly stood on tippy-toes and winced—at Jimmy’s folder, open on its surface, she could only deduce that they were discussing his photographs.
He’d shown them to Dolly once, and she’d been horrified. They were awful, nothing at all like those he’d used to take back in Coventry, of sunsets and trees and lovely houses in rippling meadows; neither were they like any of the war newsreels she and Kitty had been to watch at the cinema, the smiling images of returned servicemen, tired and dirty but triumphant; children lined up waving at railway stations; stalwart women handing oranges to cheerful Tommies. Jimmy’s photos were of men with broken bodies and dark hollowed cheeks, and eyes that had seen things they ought not to have seen—Dolly hadn’t known what to say; she’d wished he hadn’t shown them to her in the first place.
What could he be thinking, showing them to Vivien now? She who was so pretty and perfect, the very last person on earth who ought to be troubled by that sort of ugliness. Dolly felt protective of her friend, there was a part of her that wanted to fly over there, slam the folder shut and end the whole thing, but she couldn’t. Jimmy was just as likely to kiss her again, or worse, refer to her as his fiancee and make Vivien think they were engaged. Which they weren’t, not officially— they’d talked about it, of course, back when they were kids, but that was different. They were older now, and the war changed things, it changed people. Dolly swallowed hard: this moment was everything she’d feared most and now that it had happened she had no choice but to wait in excruciating limbo for it all to be over.
It felt like hours passed before Jimmy finally closed his folder and Vivien made to leave. Dolly breathed a huge sigh of relief, and then she panicked. Her friend was coming straight up the aisle between the tables, frowning slightly as she headed for the kitchen. Dolly had been so looking forward to seeing her, but not like this, not before she knew exactly what Jimmy had said. As Vivien neared the kitchen, Dolly made a split-second decision. She ducked down and hid behind the counter, pretending to fossick beneath the red and green Christmas valance with the demeanour of someone engaged in terribly important war business. As soon as she’d felt Vivien brush past, Dolly grabbed her bag and hurried to where Jimmy was waiting. All she could think of was getting him out of the canteen before Vivien saw them together.
They didn’t go to the Lyons Corner House in the end. There was a restaurant by the railway station, a plain building with boarded-up windows and a blast hole patched by a sign that said ‘More Open than Usual’. When they reached it, Dolly declared that she couldn’t possibly walk another step. ‘I’ve blisters, Jimmy,’ she said, feeling like she might be going to cry. ‘Let’s just duck in here, shall we? It’s freezing out—I’m sure it’s going to snow tonight.’
It was warmer inside, thank goodness, and the waiter found them a nice-enough booth in the back with a radiator burning nearby. Jimmy took Dolly’s coat to hang by the door and she unpinned her WVS hat, setting it down by the salt and pepper. One of her grips had been digging into her head all night and she rubbed the spot briskly as she eased off her wretched shoes. Jimmy stopped on his way back and spoke briefly to the waiter who’d seated them, but Dolly was far too preoccupied with what he might have said to Vivien to wonder why. She shook a cigarette out of her packet and struck the match so hard it snapped. She was certain Jimmy was hiding something, he’d been acting nervously ever since they left the canteen, and now, coming back to the table, he could hardly meet her eyes without quickly looking away.
No sooner had he sat down than the waiter brought them a bottle of wine and began pouring two glasses full. The gurgling noise seemed very loud, embarrassing somehow, and Dolly looked beyond Jimmy to take in the rest of the room. Three bored waiters stood muttering to one another in the corner while the bartender polished his clean bar.
There was only one other couple dining, the two of them