‘Are you sure this is all right?’ Kitty said nervously, brushing her hand against the soft silk collar of the dress she was wearing. It was the perfect shade for her, a deep dusky pink, accentuating her rosy cheeks and shiny dark hair. Laura had offered to lend her the dress as soon as she’d confessed she didn’t have anything smart. But it made her uneasy – she didn’t like borrowing when she couldn’t return the favour.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ Laura said briskly. ‘Couldn’t have you going out dancing in your overall, now could we? Please, don’t even mention it.’ She turned around. ‘Come on, Marjorie, keep up. We’ve got to get in the queue as early as possible so we can bag a decent table. We want to be close enough to hear the band and to see everyone who’s there. It will be a big crowd tonight, I’ll bet you any money.’
Marjorie hurried along the pavement in her peep-toe sandals, which she’d admitted she hadn’t worn very often. ‘Not sure I like the sound of crowds,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Really, I’m not used to them.’
Laura looked perplexed. ‘I thought you said you came from near Brighton? That’s hardly a village, is it?’
‘Yes, but I always spent my Saturday evenings studying, or else preparing lessons,’ Marjorie explained, nearly tripping over her own feet as she breathlessly drew level with the other two young women. ‘This is all a bit much. Why did we have to go so far from our billet? It’s taken us ages and we had to change buses.’
‘Because the Hammersmith Palais is the place to be, no question about it,’ Laura insisted with a knowing air. ‘Trust me on this. If you like dancing, there’s nowhere to beat it. And if you don’t like dancing, well, you’re no friend of mine,’ she added grandly, sweeping around the corner and joining the back of the queue. ‘Well done, girls. We’ve made it in good time. You won’t be disappointed, I swear.’
Kitty glanced around her. There was a tangible air of excitement as the revellers huddled out of the wind, all dressed up in their finery. There might be a war on, but that wasn’t stopping this group of young people – and some not so young – from wearing their best and going out with the determination to have a proper night of dancing and enjoyment. She pulled up the collar of her old coat, glad of its meagre protection. There seemed to be a lot of men in uniform, either in groups with the women or in small gatherings of three or four, eyeing the crowd for prospective dance partners, or maybe something more. She squared her shoulders. She was not going to be put off by a few cheeky glances. She’d dealt with worse. She reckoned Laura had too. Marjorie, though – she wasn’t so sure.
Slowly the queue shuffled along and they drew ever closer to the big doors to the famous dance hall. Laura was smiling from ear to ear. ‘I love this place,’ she said. ‘I used to come here before the fighting broke out. Of course, once the air raids started, it made coming to London that tiny bit more inconvenient.’ She sighed. ‘Now relax and remember, just because a chap asks you for a dance, it doesn’t give him sole rights over you all evening; there’s plenty of us to go round. Here we are. Ready? We can leave our coats in the cloakroom. We don’t want to spoil the impression of our lovely frocks with these sensible old things.’
Kitty reflected that Laura’s beautiful coat couldn’t be called a sensible old thing by any stretch of the imagination, but her new friend had a point. As she handed over her serviceable coat and smoothed down her skirt, Kitty was glad she’d borrowed the lovely pink dress after all. She would have felt completely out of place if she hadn’t dressed up.
‘This way.’ Laura was a woman on a mission, turning down Marjorie’s suggestion that they go to brush their hair. ‘We can go and freshen up our lipstick in a moment – no, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Marjorie, but I intend to. First we stake our claim to a table. Then we can go in turn so we don’t lose our place. Here we are, just the ticket. Marjorie, you sit there.’
Kitty was impressed with Laura’s choice. They had a view of where the dance band would be and they weren’t too far from the dance floor, but they had the perfect angle to view everyone arriving and milling around. And, she had to admit, people would have quite a good view of them too. She knew that Laura, with her air of confidence and stylish hairstyle – and of course beautiful clothes – would attract attention. Maybe she herself wouldn’t look too bad either. The pink dress boosted her spirits and looked good with her dark, wavy hair. Not that she was here to find romance – she was going to be totally loyal to Elliott, and his familiar warm face floated before her vision. She knew he wouldn’t begrudge her a night out, though, not after her hard weeks of initial training. Soon she hoped to be a fully fledged Wren. She’d write to tell him of their adventure when she got back to the billet.
Marjorie, birdlike, perched restlessly on her seat. She too had borrowed a dress from Laura, with a sweetheart neckline, in a stunning shade of eau de nil. She looked around them, eyes flickering with anxiety. ‘Kitty, what are we doing here? I wish we hadn’t come. Everyone’s staring at us.’
‘No they aren’t,’ Kitty reassured her, almost as a way of reassuring herself. ‘Or only as much as everyone’s looking at everyone else. Don’t worry. You must be accustomed to all your pupils staring at you, aren’t you? You’d have to stand there in front of them and demand their attention.’ She found it hard to understand why anyone who’d gone so far as to qualify as a teacher could be so nervous, when she herself had so many reasons for feeling uncomfortable among a crowd of people who seemed to have so much more experience of life than she had.
‘That’s different,’ Marjorie said instantly, tossing her hair. ‘I know what I’m doing in a classroom. People look at you for a reason. Here, I don’t know … what’ll I say if anyone comes over?’
‘I suppose you just say what you like,’ Kitty grinned. ‘Here’s your chance to practise – a waiter’s coming our way.’
Laura looked up as the smart older man swept over to them. ‘What can I get you, ladies?’
‘I’ll have a cocktail,’ Laura said at once. ‘Can you do me a gin and tonic? Or as close as you can manage.’ She flashed her brilliant smile. ‘How about you, Marjorie?’
Marjorie hesitated. ‘Oh, just water,’ she said.
‘You can’t have just water on a night out at the Palais!’ Laura objected.
‘But I don’t drink alcohol,’ Marjorie protested. ‘I wouldn’t know how to start, I don’t know what I like.’
‘Maybe a lemonade?’ the waiter suggested diplomatically. Kitty reckoned he’d heard this conversation many times before.
‘You’ve had most of your life to drink lemonade,’ Laura interrupted swiftly. ‘Time to break away from the schoolroom, Marjorie. How about a martini? She’ll have a martini,’ she said to the waiter, before Marjorie could contradict her.
The waiter turned to Kitty.
‘I’ll have a shandy,’ she said, feeling very daring. She’d never been one for alcohol either. The memory of her father’s drunken rages followed by his moods of abject despair had put her off. But, she reasoned, one glass of shandy wasn’t going to turn her into her father. It might even give her a bit of much-needed Dutch courage.
‘Right, I’m off to powder my nose.’ Laura stood up. ‘See you in a minute.’
Kitty watched as plenty of servicemen in uniform turned to observe her sophisticated friend as she made her way across the hall. Several then turned back to see which table Laura might have come from. A few seemed to be interested, and finally two broke ranks and wandered across to them. Marjorie immediately fixed her gaze on the table top. Kitty sighed anxiously. It looked as if it would be up to her to make conversation. She’d have to get a grip and not let nerves overcome her.
The taller of the two men was a corporal in the army by his uniform. Kitty smiled in a friendly way without any flirtatiousness as he drew closer. ‘We hate to see you girls sitting on your own,’ he said with a grin. ‘How about a turn on the dance floor?’
Kitty shook her head, remembering how she had parried the banter in the NAAFI canteen. ‘I’m hopeless at dancing, I have to warn you. We’re just enjoying ourselves, watching the world go by.’
‘And what do you do?’ asked the shorter one, whose hair had been slicked back so carefully that it shone brightly, reflecting the lamps dotted around the hall. ‘With your looks, you’ve got to be models. Bet you spend all day getting your pictures taken.’ He looked at them hopefully, wondering if his flattery had worked.
Kitty batted it away. ‘Now we can’t tell you what we do, you know that,’ she said. ‘Careless talk costs lives; loose lips sink ships. Let’s just say it’s a bit more useful than modelling.’
The young man’s face fell, but his companion’s brightened up as Laura returned, her lipstick freshly painted and her hair brushed into shape. ‘Who’s your friend? I don’t suppose you fancy a dance, do you?’
Laura looked him up and down, seeming to assess him as a potential dance partner before cocking her head and saying, ‘Well, why not? It’s what we’ve come here for.’ Not giving him a chance to change his mind, she boldly took his arm and led him towards where a small crowd was gathering ready for the next dance.
His companion promptly lost his nerve and scuttled back to their group of friends who, by the looks of it, proceeded to mock him roundly for being such a coward.
‘Well, Laura doesn’t hang around,’ Kitty observed, as the waiter came with their drinks. She took a sniff of the cocktail. ‘Ugh, she’s welcome to that, though. I’ll stick to the shandy.’ She raised her glass. ‘Cheers, Marjorie. To happier days.’
‘Ummm.’ Marjorie clinked her martini glass against Kitty’s and sipped, first cautiously and then with more enthusiasm. ‘This is nice, though. It’s getting really busy, isn’t it? Laura was right to make us arrive early. I wouldn’t want to be stuck at the back, or so far forward that everyone trips over you.’
Kitty grinned. It sounded as if Marjorie was beginning to relax and find it not so bad after all. Maybe they’d make it through the evening without embarrassing themselves. ‘Did you want to go to brush your hair? I’ll keep the table, I don’t mind.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Marjorie patted her hair. ‘It’ll do. I wouldn’t want to leave you on your own.’ Her gaze wandered around the room. ‘All sorts in here, aren’t there? What are those uniforms over there?’
Kitty squinted in the direction her friend was pointing. ‘Oh, they’re Canadians.’
Marjorie raised her eyebrows. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’
‘We get a lot around Liverpool,’ Kitty explained. ‘We’ve always had a lot to do with Canada – we used to get Canadian timber all the time down at the docks where I lived. And there are lots of Canadian servicemen around there now. We even had some come to the canteen where I worked. I liked them. They’ve come so far from home to fight alongside our boys – you can’t help but admire them.’
Marjorie seemed to approve of that and looked at the group with renewed interest. ‘I say, they’ve noticed us.’
Of course they have, thought Kitty, you’ve been staring at them unabashed for ages, they’re bound to realise it. But she didn’t say anything, not wanting to bruise her friend’s new-found confidence and enjoy-ment. ‘Oh, they’re coming over. The one with the light- brown curls looks keen.’
One of the group, a pilot from his uniform, made a beeline for Marjorie, his curls bobbing a little as he rounded the table. Marjorie, far from retreating back into her shell, responded with smiles and nods as he asked her for her name and if she’d been here before. The martini looked as if it had worked its magic and banished her earlier awkwardness. Two of his friends began to chat to Kitty, general questions that didn’t require her to think much or give away what she was training as. Although she didn’t exactly have access to state secrets, she was always very careful to reveal as little as possible.
The pilot offered Marjorie a dance and, somewhat to Kitty’s surprise, she accepted. Marjorie hadn’t even said anything about being able to dance, but soon she was on the dance floor, trying her best. Kitty smiled at her friend’s obvious pleasure. Then Laura swept by with her partner. She was in a different league; her movements were graceful yet precise, and she’d obviously done this many times. The young man was gamely trying to lead her through the steps but it was clear who was really in charge. Kitty sighed. It would take a brave man to control Laura, on or off the dance floor.
She realised one of the Canadians was still talking to her and she broke off her train of thought to pay attention to him. ‘I can’t believe you’re here without a boyfriend,’ he was saying. He seemed to be building up to making his move.
Kitty felt she couldn’t let him get his hopes up. ‘No, my boyfriend isn’t in London,’ she explained. ‘He’s a doctor on Merseyside. He’s going to come down to see me soon.’ She crossed her fingers as she said this, hoping it was true. Lovely, kind Elliott – and he was a wonderful dancer. She could suggest they come here. Her face brightened at the idea.
‘Oh I see.’ The young man in front of her seemed to get the picture, and understood that it wasn’t him she was smiling about. ‘Well, nice meeting you, ma’am. You take care when you’ve finished your training, now.’
‘You too,’ Kitty said, and meant it. She knew – as did everyone else – the immense danger all fully trained fighter pilots were in. This young man would be lucky to survive. But nobody said this, of course. She watched as he wove his way back to his friends, wondering what the future had in store for him and the rest of them.
The next dance came to an end and Marjorie and her partner headed back towards Kitty, their faces flushed. He showed her to her seat and then moved off, as Marjorie waved. Over her shoulder, Kitty could see Laura, and the by now somewhat exhausted young corporal also coming their way.
Kitty raised her eyebrows as Marjorie sank back into her chair. ‘Not having another dance with him, then? He seemed nice. I thought you two were set for the evening.’
‘No, we decided we’d had enough,’ said Marjorie, all trace of her earlier anxiety now gone. ‘We started talking as we danced and it turns out he’s got a steady girlfriend back home in Toronto. He’s a very nice young man and I’m not surprised he has a sweetheart, so it’s best he goes back to his friends.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve surprised myself. He’s good looking, isn’t he?’
Well, well, thought Kitty, so books aren’t Marjorie’s sole interest after all. ‘Yes, very,’ she agreed. ‘So now we know what your type is, don’t we? We’ll have to keep a look-out for others with light-brown curls and pilots’ uniforms …’ She trailed off as Laura approached and she registered the expression on her face. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
‘Who … who was that?’ she gasped, her hand to her throat. She could barely force out the words. ‘That man dancing with Marjorie – who was that?’
‘Laura, whatever’s wrong?’ Kitty stood up immediately and rushed to her friend, who had frozen to the spot. Gently she guided her to the table and into a seat. ‘Here, sip this.’ She handed her the cocktail glass. Laura took it and swigged back a mouthful, swallowing hard, almost desperately. ‘Steady, now. That smells like strong stuff. Tell me what’s happened. One minute you’re dancing the night away and wearing out that poor boy, and now you’re shaking like a leaf. Whatever is it? Did he say something to you, or what?’
‘Oh, my God.’ Laura put the drink down and then dropped her head into her hands. ‘I’m so sorry. God, what an idiot. What a fool. No, he didn’t say anything, it’s not him. It’s my fault, making a spectacle of myself. Just ignore me.’ Her voice broke but she raised her head and was visibly trying to pull herself together.
‘Laura, take it easy,’ said Marjorie. ‘Is it something we’ve done? Tell us.’
Laura gave a heavy sigh. ‘No. Not really.’ She gulped. ‘It was that young man you were dancing with. I just caught sight of the two of you together when I’d finished my dance and … for one moment …’ She shut her eyes tight and then opened them. ‘Well, I thought it was Freddy. Stupidly, I know. It couldn’t have been, I know that deep down, but just for a second … it caught me unawares, I’m so sorry …’ She abruptly looked away, biting her lip in a desperate effort not to break down.
Marjorie looked stunned. ‘Who?’ she mimed, turning to Kitty.
Kitty’s heart went out to Laura. ‘Her brother,’ she whispered. ‘He’s missing in action.’
‘But she never said.’ Marjorie’s face betrayed her feeling of hurt that she hadn’t been told.
‘She doesn’t. She just spoke about it once, before you all arrived.’ Kitty sighed. ‘She said they were close. I hadn’t realised just how much.’
How hard it must be for Laura, she reflected, suffering in silence, surrounded by young men who must remind her all the time of the uncertainty that hung over her brother’s fate, always preparing herself for the worst possible news, never knowing how long she would have to go on in limbo. Kitty recognised that the young woman’s devil-may-care attitude was her way of coping, but it only plastered over the wound, it didn’t come close to healing it. The confidence – arrogance, almost – masked a deep hurt that could never go away until Freddy’s fate was resolved one way or the other.
‘You take your time, Laura,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to pretend in front of us. We understand.’
Laura turned back to them both. ‘Thanks,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Oh God. I must look a proper fright.’
‘Here, have this.’ Kitty retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Clear up the worst with this, and then go to put on some more lipstick. I’ll come with you if you like.’
‘No, no, you stay here.’ Laura was recovering now, sounding more like her old self. ‘I’ll go on my own, I’ll be all right. But tell you what.’
‘What?’ Kitty and Marjorie said together.
‘Wave at that nice waiter and get me another one of these. Make it a double.’ With that Laura painted on a determined smile and pushed her way to the door of the ladies’.
Kitty twisted around to do as she was asked, catching sight of the waiter and raising her hand. Good for Laura – even though she was in despair about her brother, she wasn’t going to let it ruin their evening. And it was an easy mistake to make, Kitty realised. Anyone could do it. For example, there in the corner, among a group of officers in naval uniform, there was a young man with a head of gorgeous blond hair who from this angle was the spitting image of Frank Feeny. But no, she chided herself: that was all past. Her heart was fluttering involuntarily because of all the excitement of the evening – it was nothing more than that …