Megan’s last shift on the general ward in the hospital, where she had been working since she’d graduated last summer, was on Christmas Day, her eighteenth birthday. She was paid thirty cents an hour for basic domestic duties, and Mattie insisted that she should save her earnings for the future.
‘Perhaps you will decide on a career in nursing,’ Mattie said hopefully.
‘I don’t think I’m cut out for that, Mom. Oh, I’m real glad to be helping out the way I do now, though I hate being on bedpan duty – and the patients say I make ’em smile.’
‘Haven’t you any idea what you might do, after this?’
‘Wait and see, eh?’ Megan knew, of course, what she intended to do. She just wasn’t sure that her mom and dad would agree with her choice.
The nurses sang favourite carols and the few patients who had not been able to get home or had no family to care for them, sat up in bed, or in chairs with a blanket over their knees, to open the presents the hospital staff had delivered. The cleaners hovered in the background, to watch. They would collect up the torn wrapping paper and generally tidy the ward before going off duty. It was late afternoon.
Megan was thinking about Tommy. He was a long way from his own home in Canada. Tommy was somewhere in England, attached to the RAF. She’d posted him a photograph of herself, with the message, Love always, from Megan. The photographer’s art had made her look like a film star, she mused. Surely he would see how grown-up she was now.
With a start, she realized that her name was being called. Sister Julienne was holding out a parcel. ‘Miss Megan Myfanwy Parry – please step forward!’
As Megan did so, voices were raised in song once more, some old and quavery and out of tune, a pleasing baritone from one of the doctors, but all knew the words: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU – HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU – HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MEGAN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
*
There was more warbling back home, where the family had kindly postponed opening their own presents and sitting down to their Christmas dinner until Megan’s return. They’d been joined as usual by Sybil and Lloyd and, for a few hours, Max, who was fortunate to have leave from the army before going overseas to the battle zone. He was six months older than Megan and had joined up immediately he left school.
‘Sorry, I didn’t manage to get out and buy you one present, let alone, two,’ Max apologized. ‘But I do have a little something for you, don’t worry.’
‘Well, I didn’t know you were coming today, so I’ve nothing for you, either!’
Griff fastened his and Mattie’s gift, a gold chain and heart-shaped pendant round her neck. ‘Oh, you still smell of carbolic – but this is with our love,’ he said.
‘Mom, Dad – it’s beautiful! Thank you so much.’ Megan’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’ll have a quick squirt of Sybil and Lloyd’s scent, eh?’
‘Do you mind,’ Sybil smiled. ‘It’s Chanel No 5 and so no squirting, just dabbing!’
‘You can open the pendant,’ Mattie told Megan. ‘Put a tiny photo inside, or a lock of hair. Not your father’s, he can’t spare any, these days.’
‘Cruel woman, your mom,’ Griff said fondly.
Megan postponed her announcement until after they’d eaten. She thought, Dad will understand, he’s more placid than Mom. He’s always smiling since he left that dreary job at the garage, just after America went to war. He loves his work in the planning department at the aircraft factory, he’s doing something worthwhile again….
Max gave Megan his present when he thought no one was looking. A small box, which he slipped into her hand as they sat side by side at the table. ‘Don’t open it now – it’s not much, but I hope you’ll wear it and think of me,’ he whispered.
She said in her forthright way, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time for shopping this Christmas. I thought you’d be too busy too, so—’
‘You needn’t make excuses. Just say you’ll knit me some socks.’
‘What makes you imagine I can knit?’ she challenged, but she didn’t feel irritated, as she usually did, at his persistence. He was a good-looking fellow, tall and athletic, but, despite the uniform, he still seemed immature compared with Tommy.
Griff and Lloyd were sharing the carving duties, one with the turkey, the other with the ham. Not quite the spread of pre-war days but, as Mattie observed: ‘We’re so fortunate. Evie is still eating college fare, and Ronnie’s Fanny is feeding the five thousand she says, on short commons….’
The pudding arrived, and generous portions were served, with custard and cream. Then they raised their glasses to salute Christmas and Megan on her special birthday. ‘To Megan, may you have a good year to follow!’
It was time to tell them. Megan looked round at the smiling faces. ‘Well, it’s beginning well. I’m following Max’s good example and joining up before conscription. I’ve decided I want to train to be an army driver. In fact, I’ve already had an interview. I was asked what my strengths were and all I could think of was, I drove my mom to safety through a dust storm!’
There was a stunned silence. Then Griff cleared his throat, stood up and said huskily: ‘We’ve always been proud of you, Megan, but especially today. Raise your glasses all of you, to a wonderful girl. Megan.’
‘Megan!’ they echoed.
‘You’re crying, Mom,’ Megan said, concerned.
Mattie dabbed at her wet face with her table napkin. ‘I’ll miss you – but, oh, Megan, I know I would have done the same, at your age!’
‘Of course you would,’ Griff agreed, adding: ‘Didn’t cousin Bert once say you were a girl and a half, Megan? You certainly get that spirit from your mom!’
Sybil tapped her glass with a spoon to gain their attention. ‘I’ve some news to impart, too. Lloyd and I have decided to close down the beauty parlour side of the business, for the duration. It doesn’t seem appropriate at this time. However, we’ll keep the hairdressing salon going, as we have more mature staff there, who are past call-up. Lloyd is concentrating on his laboratory work, and me – I am offering my services to the military hospital to help those service personnel who suffer burns or other disfigurement in the fighting. My skills at concealing scars and blemishes could aid rehabilitation, I’m told.’
‘Sybil, that’s a great idea!’ Mattie assured her. She thought, there must be something I could do, too, to help the war effort. Selling war bonds perhaps? Or maybe working in Bigelow’s part-time – they’re suffering from a shortage of staff now. Will we have a family gathering like this next Christmas, I wonder?
‘When are you leaving?’ Max asked Megan.
Attention focused once more on Megan.
‘Next week,’ she said, ‘Mom and Dad, I hope that’s not too much of a shock!’
Griff squeezed Mattie’s hand, answered for them both. ‘Having made up your mind, the best thing to do is to get on with it! We’re behind you, all the way!’
After the guests had departed, Megan helped her parents with the clearing up, then went off to bed. She settled under the covers, comfortable in old pyjamas, fingering the locket round her neck. She’d write to Tommy and ask if he had any spare Polyfotos, she mused. She didn’t need to say what for. She suddenly recalled the little box which Max had given her. She’d put it on her bedside table. She reached out, and opened it. His high school fraternity pin! With a rueful smile, she pinned it to her jacket. It was obvious what he meant by this gift. She’d thank him, of course, and wear the pin for friendship’s sake.
The fierce hug he’d given her earlier when he was about to leave, the way he’d kissed her full on the lips for the first time and murmured, ‘Think of me – sometimes – Megan, please.…’ had made her realize the extent of his feelings for her. Now, as she checked that the pin was fastened securely, she sighed. ‘I don’t suppose,’ she said aloud, ‘that Tommy thought of me, today….’
Megan had come through her basic army training with flying colours. She had been flown over with other young women drivers to a secret location deep in the countryside. They were aware that they were here to chauffeur their superiors to important meetings, that something very exciting was about to happen, which could lead to a breakthrough in the hostilities, but they didn’t talk about it, even among themselves, or allude to it in letters home.
She was becoming accustomed now to driving down narrow, leafy lanes, the lack of signposts, disguised or removed when there had been a very real threat of invasion after Dunkirk, even to the rain and ensuing damp conditions of an English spring. Banks of delicate, lovely wild flowers made Megan catch her breath. Land girls driving tractors; women riding bicycles with baskets on the front, and toddlers strapped in little seats behind, raised a hand in greeting as the staff car passed them.
Two of the most senior officers were to attend a weekend conference in London. Megan was chosen to drive them there. The officers would be staying at a big hotel, where security was already in place: Megan would put up at a smaller establishment, and was told to enjoy her short break, but to stay within the hotel at all times in case she was needed.
She told herself there was no reason why she shouldn’t contact Tommy and ask him over on the Saturday evening; he was stationed in Surrey and grounded for a spell. It was a pity she wouldn’t be able to see anything much of London, she thought, on her first visit. She knew that her mother was disappointed too, that she hadn’t yet been able to get in touch with her Aunt Evie in Lincolnshire, or the relatives in Suffolk.
Driving through bomb-ravaged London was a sombre experience. Some of the buildings were mere shells. Having come from the lush countryside, she realized just what London and the other big cities had suffered two years previously.
The great hotel, however, was seemingly untouched. Megan was not invited inside but drove away immediately her passengers had alighted. Her more modest destination was some miles away.
Her arrival was expected. She was escorted to a pleasant room on the first floor, where a tray of refreshments was delivered shortly afterwards. ‘Dinner at seven, madam, in the dining room.’ The young woman who’d accompanied her opened a door. ‘Your private bathroom. There’s enough hot water if you wish to take a bath.’
‘Thank you,’ Megan said. ‘I’d sure appreciate that.’
She took off her cap and threw it on the bed. It would be good, she thought, to hang up her uniform, to change into something pretty and feminine before Tommy arrived. That was if he did, of course. He hadn’t confirmed that he would.
It was four o’clock. Time for tea. She settled herself at the small table in the sitting area. A silver tea-service was a pleasant change from the tin mugs she’d become accustomed to. She’d hoped for a gooey cake or two, but there was a single scone on a plate, already split and spread thinly with butter.
Refreshed, she rested on top of the coverlet on the bed and closed her eyes for a brief nap. She awoke with a start, to discover that it was past six. I’ll have to hurry, she thought ruefully – but I’m not going to miss out on my bath, or washing my hair!
Fortunately, she’d brought bath salts, soap and shampoo, because these luxury items were no longer provided. However, there was a big white towel, embroidered in one corner with the name of the hotel, and a smaller towel for drying her hair, which she’d wash in the bath, to save time and water.
The pale-pink chiffon dress, with cap sleeves and cross-over bodice sparkling with silver sequins was the one she’d worn for the studio portrait she’d sent to Tommy. She’d had no chance to wear it since. It was lined in silk, so she’d no need of a petticoat, only minimal underwear. She smoothed her nylon stockings carefully over her legs, then slipped her feet into borrowed silver dancing-shoes, with heels. Her hair was still damp but she swept it up off her neck with a pair of glittery combs. No worries about setting a style – her hair was curly, and that was it, she thought.
Megan looked at her face in the dressing-table mirror. Just a dab of powder to disguise the shine bestowed by steaming water, coral-coloured lipstick and touches of the expensive perfume given her by Sybil last Christmas.
She took a deep breath. Just on seven. Would he be already at the table, waiting for her to appear? I can’t hurry in these heels, she reminded herself.
The dining-room was almost deserted: no Tommy. A couple of women in sensible tweeds sat at a corner table. Megan immediately felt conspicuous. In wartime, she realized, it was not necessary to dress for dinner.
She was guided to her table by a middle-aged man, with sleek pomaded hair and a pencil-thin moustache. ‘Good evening, madam. My name is Louis. Do you wish to order now, or wait for your guest to arrive?’
‘I’ll wait, thank you,’ she said. She was aware that the women were regarding her from their table. Did she look that much out of place?
‘Would you like a drink while you study the menu?’ Louis prompted.
Megan felt flustered. She’d never ordered a drink for herself.
‘A little wine, perhaps?’ Louis persisted.
‘A small glass of sherry,’ she decided. Sybil was the most sophisticated person she knew, and that was usually her choice.
She picked up the menu nonchalantly. Most of the items were crossed through. The selection of food on the base was more appetizing, mostly flown over from the States. They enjoyed fresh-baked white bread, and deep-fried doughnuts.
‘Chef’s choice of the day … stewed rabbit and savoury dumplings,’ she read aloud in disbelief, wrinkling her nose. ‘I wonder why they didn’t translate that into French!’
‘Doesn’t sound too bad to me,’ remarked a cheerful voice.
Megan looked up, couldn’t suppress a gasp. ‘Tommy – you got here!’
‘Sure did. I’ve even booked a room overnight. Glad to see me?’ He slid into a chair opposite, placed his cap on the table, and sat smiling at her, still in his uniform.
‘Oh, I am!’
Louis appeared, removed the headgear smartly to a curved coat-stand. ‘Good evening, sir. Would you care for a drink? Are you ready to order?’
‘Whisky, please. Say, can’t you rustle up something more special than rabbit?’
Louis stiffened. ‘Are you not aware, sir, of the strict rationing over here?’
‘You think I come from the States? Well, I’m from Canada, of British parents, and I’ve been over here almost from the start of the war.… It’s just that this is by way of being a reunion, and I guess I hoped to impress a beautiful girl.’
‘In that case, sir, I apologize, I’ll see what I can do. Leave it to me,’ Louis said.
The wait was worth it. Toad in the hole, one fat, herby sausage each, in batter made no doubt with dried egg and milk, served with thick brown well-seasoned gravy, mashed potato and glazed carrots. Some of the batter was reserved for crispy pancakes, served, to their delight, with maple syrup.
Louis beamed at their obvious enjoyment of the meal, but it was time for vacating the dining-room to allow the staff to clear up and lay the tables again for breakfast. It was past nine o’clock.
‘Would you like coffee in the foyer – or perhaps in your rooms?’ Louis asked.
He didn’t even blink when Tommy said immediately, ‘In your room, I think, Megan? Booking at the last minute, the only room available to me was on the top floor, next to the staff WC.’
‘Not quite, sir, it’s closer to the broom cupboard. You’ll find it adequate, I’m sure. Do you want your bag taken upstairs?’
‘No, I’ll keep it with me, thank you. Lead the way, Megan!’
They drank their coffee, sitting side by side on a chaise-longue. Megan removed her shoes and wriggled her toes. She gave a contented sigh. ‘This is nice. D’you have to go up to your attic? There’s a spare blanket, you could sleep on the couch, couldn’t you? I don’t want the evening to end yet.’
‘Nor do l,’ he said softly.
She didn’t look at him when she said, ‘Or, as you’ve noticed, there is a perfectly comfortable double bed.…’
His arms encircled her, he turned her gently towards him. ‘Are you ready for this?’ he queried, his breath fanning her cheek.
‘Not quite … I don’t want to crush my best frock….’
‘That’s easily solved,’ he whispered. ‘You don’t have to do this, Megan, you know. I didn’t realize you were all grown up, I admit. But please remember I’m older, and yes, more experienced than you. I don’t want to take advantage of you—’
‘I’m in love with you Tommy. I can’t help myself. I intend to marry you one day!’
‘Oh, Megan, how can I resist you? I think I’m falling for you, too….’
The talking, the meticulous planning was over – the D-day landings began in June, 1944. Europe would be liberated at last. Amid the euphoria, there was the cruel reality of great loss of life for the Allied forces. Tommy was among those who would never return. Also, the war in the Far East was not over yet.
In August, Megan was flown home to North Dakota on compassionate grounds. Her war was over, too, because she was four months pregnant.