‘Kitty, you look lovelier than ever.’ Elliott’s warm eyes met Kitty’s as they came to a halt outside the famous old pub near Hampstead Heath. The sun had just set over the treeline and the last of the birds were calling their cries at dusk. The warmth rose off the pavement and it seemed for an instant that all was at peace with the world.
‘Elliott! You do say some funny things.’ But Kitty was pleased. She had almost surprised herself at how happy she’d been to see the doctor, who’d turned up at her billet to escort her out for the evening. Kitty had worried that she didn’t know anywhere smart to go, or that he’d expect a night of dancing in the West End, but he hadn’t. He confessed he’d had to work right up to the time he’d had to leave to catch his train, and then had had to stand most of the way, so even his enthusiasm for dancing had been curbed. ‘Tomorrow, maybe,’ he’d said when she’d voiced her anxiety. ‘But for tonight, may I take you to somewhere where I used to go when I was a student? It’s near my parents’ house in Hampstead. I think you’ll like it. Don’t worry, it’s not too far from where you are, and of course I’ll see you home.’
Kitty had never doubted that he would; he was the perfect gentleman in every way. She felt shy as he pushed open the heavy old door and held it for her as she stepped inside, worrying that everyone would recognise him and stare at her, but people carried on their conversations without a pause. There were plenty of young men and women in uniform, as well as those in civvies, marking the start of the weekend or simply taking advantage of a night without an air raid.
‘Shall I get you a glass of wine?’ he offered.
Kitty hesitated. When they had gone out together at home, to the prestigious New Year’s Dance at the Town Hall, he had brought her wine and she had sipped it, but honestly hadn’t enjoyed it. Then, she’d felt too unsure of herself to admit it. The pressure of being among so many elegant, wealthy people had rendered her almost speechless. But here it was different. She didn’t have to pretend, to avoid hurting his feelings.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll just have shandy,’ she said.
‘Shandy? Is that what the newly trained Wren about town has these days?’ he asked with a broad grin. ‘Very refreshing, a good choice. Here, you sit down and I’ll fetch it for you.’ He pulled out a comfort-able-looking chair by a small table and gestured for her to sit down on its faded velvet cushion. It was next to a window; she could see the Heath beyond, gathering its shadows in the fading light.
Kitty laughed inwardly at the idea she was an ‘anything’ about town; she hadn’t dared venture too far yet, except for a few forays with Laura and Marjorie into the city centre to go to the cinema. There simply hadn’t been the time, or they were too tired even when they did have evenings off. But it was fun to think Elliott imagined that’s what she was.
‘Here you are,’ he said, pushing his way through a group of young men in RAF uniform. ‘I decided I’d join you in a shandy. Cheers.’ He sat down opposite her and they clinked glasses. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m glad to sit down. And in such beautiful company.’
‘Elliott, you can’t mean that,’ Kitty protested, aware she was blushing and wishing she wasn’t. ‘And you must be exhausted. It’s good of you to have come out, and to have fetched me on top of that. You must have wanted nothing other than to curl up at home with your mother’s good cooking.’
‘Actually I had some of that before I left,’ he smiled. ‘They’d love to meet you, you know.’
Kitty leant back in her seat, her face falling. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t know what to say.’
Elliott’s expression grew concerned. ‘I’m so sorry, that was very presumptuous of me, wasn’t it? I don’t want to rush you, Kitty. That was a silly thing to say. It’s just that I told them I was meeting a very lovely young Wren and they were delighted.’
Kitty fidgeted nervously. ‘It’s not that … well, that’s not all it is,’ she said hesitantly. ‘All right, I hope you don’t mind me saying … I’d feel that I was being compared to your fiancée. That’s what it is.’
‘Oh, Kitty.’ Elliott’s eyes were bright. ‘I do understand. I can’t pretend I wasn’t devastated when Penelope died, and yes, my parents were very fond of her. But I have put all that behind me now. It happened before the war broke out, before I moved to Liverpool. Life has changed tremendously in every way. I was sad for a long time, but,’ he reached across the table for her hand, ‘now I’ve met you. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions, and we haven’t known each other for long, but they can see I’m happy. Therefore they’re happy. One day, when the time is right, it would be wonderful if you would like to meet them – but there’s no hurry.’ He squeezed her hand tenderly. ‘As long as you’re happy too, Kitty. That’s the most important thing.’
Kitty squeezed his hand back. She knew she’d moved on too. She was no longer the uncertain young woman on the verge of leaving home. She was in the heart of things, absorbing her demanding training, mastering the technicalities and making new friends. It didn’t matter that she’d had a drunkard for a father who’d driven her mother to an early grave, or that she’d had to miss out on much of her schooling to help bring up Tommy. She’d thought she was stupid; now she knew she wasn’t. She had a friend who had a teaching certificate, another who could drive a big lorry and hold her cocktails with the best of them. And she was holding hands with a doctor who thought she was beautiful.
‘I am, Elliott,’ she said, her eyes shining in the light from the many lamps adorned with pretty chintz shades. ‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it? I’m so glad we didn’t go dancing; it gives us a chance to talk properly. I love to get your letters but it isn’t quite the same.’
‘I’ll say.’ Elliott raised his glass and took a sip. ‘Every time I read yours, I imagine you writing it, and can’t wait until I see you again. Now we’re here. I’ve missed you, Kitty.’
‘I think about you too,’ Kitty said. ‘I know you don’t have much time to write, so that makes your letters extra-special. I’m so glad to get them.’ Their eyes met, and for a moment she thought he was going to lean forward and kiss her. Then from the bar came a roar from the RAF men, and a figure emerged from behind their group.
‘Fitzgerald! You never said you were coming back, how sly!’ A man of Elliott’s age with fair skin and red hair came up to their table. ‘I saw your folks the other day and they didn’t say a dickie bird. Good to see you, old chap.’
Elliott rose and shook the man’s had warmly. ‘Smedley, I had no idea you were still here.’
‘I’m at the Royal Free these days, specialist unit,’ the man said. ‘Didn’t you go up north? Up to the wilds somewhere?’
Kitty tried not to flinch; she was getting used to all southerners assuming civilisation didn’t reach very far past London.
‘Hardly the wilds,’ said Elliott. ‘But we’ve had a bit of a rum do up there recently, you could say. We’ve been kept busy, no doubt about it.’ He turned to include Kitty in the conversation. ‘Kitty, may I introduce you to Dr Bill Smedley, scourge of the operating theatre and my very good friend from when we trained at Barts. Bill, this is Kitty Callaghan of the WRNS.’
‘Very pleased to meet you,’ the red-haired man said, shaking her hand easily. ‘Elliott, you lucky man. A Wren, eh? And how do you like London, Miss Callaghan?’
Kitty brought herself back down to earth after the uncertainty of not knowing if Elliott was going to kiss her or not, but soon fell into relaxed conversation with the man. He obviously thought a lot of Elliott, and she found herself glowing with pride for him. She’d known he was a good doctor from his time treating Tommy and Danny – and besides, Rita always knew what the nurses thought of the doctors, and the ones who were all mouth got little sympathy from them. But to hear it from an old friend was immensely satisfying. It wasn’t until he’d made his way back to his friends – ‘Mustn’t outstay my welcome’, but said with a wink – that she took a moment to realise that she was actually sitting in a pub in the capital city making conversation with two doctors, neither of whom were looking down on her. In fact, one was looking at her in a very special way indeed.
‘Maybe you’d like to go dancing tomorrow, though, Kitty?’ Elliott asked, a tender but hopeful look on his face. ‘I could show you my favourite spot in the West End. I’m sure you’d like it.’
Kitty felt excitement well up in her. Elliott was a very skilful dancer – he’d once confessed he had been a champion, back in his student days – and she suddenly remembered the way he’d held her round the waist on New Year’s Eve, which she’d found herself enjoying far more than she would have imagined, despite all her nervous insecurity at the time. She decided she would very much like him to hold her that way again, with his warm hands pressing against the silky fabric of her dress. ‘Oh yes please,’ she said. ‘That would be wonderful.’
‘It would be my pleasure, indeed, my honour,’ he said with a grin to show her he meant it but wouldn’t take it too seriously. ‘Would you like to ask your friends to come too?’ Marjorie and Laura had met him briefly when he’d come to collect her earlier; they’d been extremely keen to meet the fabled author of the letters which Kitty anticipated so keenly. ‘I wouldn’t neglect you, I just thought you might enjoy having them with us.’
For a moment Kitty fought off the sensation of inadequacy. Part of her wanted to keep Elliott all to herself on their brief weekend together. She’d have to compete with Laura to be seen as someone who fitted in with the London nightlife, who knew how to dress, dance and behave in such a sophisticated set. Then she berated herself. He hadn’t asked Laura out – he’d asked her. ‘That’s so kind of you to think of that,’ she said. ‘I’ll ask them.’
‘But they won’t hold a candle to you, Kitty,’ Elliott assured her. Then he leant forward and, in the middle of the crowded pub, softly planted a kiss on her lips. He drew back before she could be embarrassed. ‘That’s just on account,’ he smiled. ‘But I couldn’t resist you, Kitty Callaghan.’
She had to stop herself from gasping aloud. He’d done that – him, a doctor, and her just plain Kitty Callaghan from Empire Street. It was all too much to take in. Across the room she caught sight of a young woman with slightly tousled dark hair, eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed, and immediately alongside her the back view of a well-set man in an immaculately cut jacket. It took her a moment to register it was a mirror and the man was Elliott, the young woman was her. Everything was happening so fast and she could feel herself changing along with the pace of the times. Where would it all lead? She had to gather her courage and see where this new life might take her.
Rita stared at the letter, her heart hammering furiously. She’d known this would happen but it was still a horrible shock to see it in black and white. One of the main suppliers to the shop was demanding immediate payment for its goods or it would suspend trading with her. Rita knew she needed this firm; they’d done business for ages and it would be well nigh impossible to sign up with anyone else. They’d take one look at the slowly failing shop and turn her down without a backward glance. She also knew she didn’t have the money. Wild ideas came into her head. Should she ask Danny to see what fell off the back of a lorry down at the docks? But she couldn’t go down that route – that was Winnie’s way, but it wasn’t hers. Even when her back was against the wall, Rita knew she couldn’t be dishonest. She wouldn’t be able to face herself in the mirror in the morning if she did that. Damn Charlie – he’d treated her like a punchbag, brought disgrace upon the family, and scarpered off without a care in the world, leaving her with this mess, which she’d never asked for in the first place.
Was there another way of balancing the books? Had she done the sums right? Had Violet made any obvious mistakes and Rita been too tired to see them? Damn Charlie for causing his mother to go into such a tailspin. Rita also wondered if some customers were staying away on principle, knowing he was a deserter. She wouldn’t put it past them. She could understand all too well how they might feel. She hated cowardice, and resented being tarred with the same brush as her faithless husband. How different it would have been if he’d turned out to be the man she was hoping for: someone she and the children could have relied on, someone she could have shared her troubles with. At least they were safely out of it, happy and well, although achingly far away. When it came down to it she was on her own. Violet was kind and never said no to working late, but she didn’t really understand the business, for all her outgoing cheerfulness. Rita still had little idea of what went on in Ruby’s head and certainly wouldn’t dream of burdening her with the realities of the shop. And as for Winnie … well, she was just Winnie.
Rita sighed heavily as she checked the blackout blinds were properly fastened across the shop window. Dusk had fallen and she needed to turn on the lights, though she dreaded the extra expense. Maybe she could negotiate. Perhaps she could offer to pay an extra amount per week or per month – she’d have to find it somehow, but it was better than doing nothing. She had to keep the shop going, there were no two ways about it. Shivering, although it was a warm evening, she turned to go back to the living quarters.
There was a soft knock on the shop door, and she jumped. Fear shot through her that it was someone from the suppliers, come to demand their money in person. She hesitated, not wanting whoever it was to be heard in the street; she couldn’t have borne the shame of a public confrontation. Her name was in tatters already, and she couldn’t risk putting off even more customers.
‘Rita, Rita,’ called a male voice, ‘are you in there? Are you going to let me in?’
Rita gasped as she recognised the voice, barely able to believe that it was who she knew it to be. Her knees went treacherously weak. Then she made her way across the shop floor to the door, hastily opening it, fearful that the light would be visible and the ARP warden would notice. If it wasn’t Pop, it could mean even more trouble for her. But she couldn’t wait to see her caller.
For a moment neither of them spoke as they absorbed the sight of one another. It had been long, long months since they had last been together. Then she could hold back no longer.
‘Jack, Jack, you’ve made it home!’ Despite herself she flung her arms around his beloved broad shoulders, but then jumped back. ‘Oh no, how’s your injury? Have I hurt it?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Jack hugged her tightly, knowing she was the most precious woman in the world. But he would go no further. While he was in no doubt he loved her with all his heart and soul, she was still a married woman, even if in name only.
‘Oh, Jack.’ Rita breathed deeply, inhaling the magical scent of him, the essence of a strong, good man. How she would have loved it if she could only let him take care of her, lift all the worries that had been besetting her since Charlie disappeared – and, in truth, long before that. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair on him. She was still tied to Charlie: devious, vindictive Charlie. She broke away, as she knew she must. Jack was her very good friend, the very best friend she could ever have, in fact, but he could be nothing more.
Jack stood back and regarded her. Even in the meagre light from the sallow overhead bulb she was radiantly beautiful. ‘You know what, Reet?’ he said softly. ‘You’re a proper sight for sore eyes and no mistake.’
‘Jack.’ Rita forced herself to break away, and held him at arm’s length, taking in the sight of his familiar features. ‘Oh Jack, I’m so glad to see you. When you wrote to say your leave had been delayed, I didn’t know what to think. I thought you’d been posted somewhere far away and I’d never see you again.’
‘Reet, don’t say that, you know I can’t tell you where I’ve been or where I’m going. That’s if I even know, which often I don’t. But I’ll always come back. You know that.’ Jack’s eyes glowed in the half-light as he drank in the sight of her.
‘I know. Well, I hope so.’ She still couldn’t quite take in that he was here in front of her; she was conscious that the clock was already ticking and the precious time they would have together would be short. ‘How long have you got this time?’
‘A couple more days.’ He drew a finger around the collar of his uniform jacket. ‘I stopped by your parents’ house before coming here to check you weren’t on shift. Your dad says I can have the cart tomorrow and that it’s your day off.’ His eyes were dancing. ‘Fancy a trip out to Freshfield?’
‘Oh yes, Jack. That would be marvellous.’ All thoughts of money worries fell away at the prospect of seeing her children again – and the thought that Jack was Michael’s unacknowledged father made it all the more special. ‘I’d like that better than anything.’