Peggy nervously patted her hair. She always felt it looked a bit dull: not stunning red like Clarrie’s, or strikingly dark like Belinda’s or Edith’s. Mary’s chestnut waves were enviable, too, and they all knew that she had more money than most to spend on keeping them that way. Perhaps Peggy’s hair was closest in colour to Alice’s: dark blonde or light brown, depending on how you looked at it.
But Alice never went out of her way to dress up to look special. She was neat and tidy – elegant, even – but making an impression was not her main aim. Whereas Peggy, particularly at this moment, desperately wanted to look right.
She had wound her hair into rags overnight to give it shape, and brushed it carefully until it shone. She had sewn new buttons onto the seasons-old cotton dress to make it smarter, and pressed it until the edges on her collar and lace cuffs were razor-sharp. Her best home-made brooch was pinned to her jacket’s lapel, and the scuffs on her shoes were hidden by a fresh layer of polish, buffed to a bright shine. Truly, she could not have done more.
Perhaps she had no need to be so worried. James had seen her in her dancing best, but also when he’d taken her unawares by turning up at the house that time; he hadn’t minded then that she was not all dolled up. But she wanted to be special, to impress him. What if some of the other GIs saw her when she met him near the Red Cross dormitory where he was again staying for his leave? She didn’t want to let him down.
It had been so long since she had seen him. They had written, of course, and he had sent her that beautiful soap, which was now all gone, and the drawing for Valentine’s Day. People could change, though. She hoped against hope that he hadn’t.
If anything, her own feelings had grown more solid since they had last met. He was such a contrast to the men she met in everyday life – the fellow workers at the factory, usually those too old or unsuitable for the Forces, or the dock workers who were exempt from conscription. She liked her men friends well enough, but she’d had the best one of those and now he was gone. The rest did not compare.
James was a gentleman, considerate and caring; he listened to her. He was also, to her eyes, magnetically handsome. She had always preferred men who could dance well, but to combine that talent with looks like his – that just made him irresistible. What if some other girl thought the same – and happened to live conveniently near his East Anglian base? She didn’t think he was the cheating type, but she’d been wrong before.
Why were the butterflies going crazy in her stomach as she approached the place where they’d chosen to meet? They were getting worse, not better. She could hardly walk the final few paces. Her legs had turned to jelly.
Then there he was: handsome as ever and smart in his uniform, his eyes gleaming with pleasure at the sight of her. She ran towards him and suddenly all her worries flew away. He was here and she was in his arms. Nothing else mattered.
‘I reckon you been taking dance lessons since I last saw you,’ James said towards the end of the evening. ‘You’re even better than you were. Those steps ain’t easy but you never missed a beat.’
Peggy chuckled in appreciation. ‘I had the best partner, that’s why.’
‘We make a good pair, don’t we?’ James halted suddenly, as if aware of what that might mean. He glanced around the crowds of dancers taking a break from the floor, some clutching cold drinks, some fanning themselves with programmes. It was very warm.
Peggy looked up at him and into his velvet eyes. ‘We do, don’t we.’ She had caught some envious glances as they’d moved together around the dance floor, keeping perfect time. It was reassuring to know that their peers were admiring their performance, but for Peggy it was much more important that James thought she was good – his was the only opinion that really mattered. She hadn’t let him down. ‘Boy, it’s hot in here. How come you aren’t melting?’
‘I must be getting used to your British weather.’ His face creased in amusement.
‘Is it warm where you’re from?’ She realised they hadn’t spoken much about his life in America. Again she was struck by how little she knew of it. ‘Is it like in the pictures?’
He shrugged. ‘Depends which movies you mean. If you’re thinking of the plantations of Gone With the Wind, it ain’t like that – leastways not where I was. We often went to New York City, so I’m used to big places, same as you, except there’s no bomb damage, of course.’ He smiled again to take the edge off the observation. ‘Mighty hot come the summer, all the same.’
Peggy nodded, trying to imagine it. London could get pretty stuffy at the height of August and it was uncomfortable until the sun went down. How would she manage somewhere hotter than that? Then she brought herself up short – she was getting ahead of herself, making an assumption that one day she’d find out.
‘Here.’ He gave her his programme so she could fan herself, which she accepted gratefully. ‘Care for another lemonade?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘I’ll go pop if I have any more.’
‘Another dance, then?’
‘Listen – they’re finishing up. This is the tune they always play for the last one of the evening.’
‘So let’s hit the floor one more time.’ He took her hand and they squeezed into the crowd, making the most of the final song, slow and sweet.
Peggy swayed in time to the music, loving the sensation of his arms tight around her. ‘I wish we didn’t have to go,’ she murmured.
He nodded, his chin resting on her shoulder. ‘But we do,’ he said softly.
‘I know. I just wish …’ She tightened her arms on his body, sensing the taut muscles beneath. ‘I wish we could be together more. I don’t want to let you go.’
‘Nor me, Peggy. Not now I’ve found you. Will you come out with me tomorrow? I’ve got one more day of leave.’
Peggy had put her name down for the Saturday early shift, keen to make up for the fact she wasn’t fire-watching like many of the others. Quickly she calculated when she would be free. ‘We could meet for tea?’ she suggested.
His eyes told her he would prefer to stay in her company for far longer, but he nodded. ‘Tea, a proper British tea,’ he smiled, and then bent to kiss her swiftly before the band played the final notes. They held each other tightly until the last chord faded away and the crowds around them began to disperse, reluctant to let each other go on this night of precious moments together. Time seemed to stand still. The lights were still dimmed and she thought she saw his mouth move, cast a little into shadows by the shifting waves of men and women leaving the floor. Was that really what he was saying? ‘I love you too,’ she whispered, but did not know if he had heard.
Next morning Peggy wasn’t sure if she’d dreamt it. She went through her shift in a daze, hardly noticing when anyone spoke to her. Several colleagues teased her for it, but she didn’t react. They taunted her that she must have had such a good night out that she was too hung over to answer, but she smiled vaguely and ignored them. Eventually they gave up.
Clarrie had the day off and so there was no need to explain anything. Peggy mechanically assembled her boxes and stacked sections of piping and rubber seals, forgetting to look for any scraps to be made into jewellery, just wanting the minutes to go by faster. The wireless played music to encourage them to work harder, but she ignored that too, though usually she would sing along with any tune she knew.
She was glad that Mattie had rearranged her interview with the factory. Her friend had asked her if there were any vacancies, as the factory was an easy distance from Jeeves Street and she would know workers there already. Peggy had offered to show her around if she could coincide with her shifts, but Alan had gone down with a late cold and so Mattie hadn’t wanted to leave him. Peggy knew that she would have made no sense today and was relieved, even if she felt a little sorry for poor Alan.
It felt like the longest ever shift, but eventually the wireless played the news on the hour and she was free to go. ‘Coming down the Duke’s Arms?’ called one of the men who had such poor eyesight he couldn’t join the services. ‘Or what about the tea shop down the market?’ shouted the woman who’d worked alongside her earlier that morning.
‘No, I’ve got to go somewhere else,’ Peggy replied, oblivious to their nudges and speculative glances. She exchanged her tired old overall for her pretty light jacket, tore the protective scarf from her head and delved into her handbag for a hairbrush. Then she found her compact mirror and stub of lipstick and carefully drew on a pink cupid’s bow. It wasn’t much but it was the best she could do in the circumstances.
She all but ran from the factory gates to the bus stop, willing the service not to be delayed. It was still afternoon and the sun was bright in the late spring sky, illuminating the main road as she squinted to see if there was any sign of transport. She reckoned most folk would be coming the other way at this hour of the day, returning from a trip to the West End. It wasn’t yet time for the evening revellers to set out. People around her had either been working or shopping locally, by the looks of them. She was the most dolled-up there.
The bus had a few spaces left and she treated herself to a window seat on the top deck, staring out at the streets as they passed through Hackney to Islington, past Sadler’s Wells and into Holborn. She moved closer to the window to make space for an older woman who smelled strongly of cigarettes. She resisted the hints of conversation. She was too excited to think about anyone other than James.
She might have known there would be some delays to the journey. The conductor announced that the bus would have to terminate early, as a road ahead was shut because of a burst water main. People grumbled but nobody made a loud fuss, as it was just the sort of thing you had to expect these days. Peggy followed the other passengers down the curved stairs at the back of the bus and weighed up her options. She could try another route or she could walk through the back streets and cut through. That would be quicker. Besides, she was in her sensible shoes. She set off as fast as she could, hoping James would wait.
There he was, next to the entrance to Lyons Corner House on the Strand. She rushed to meet him, her smile wide. All the doubts of the previous evening had vanished. She wasn’t in torment that he had found someone else or didn’t want to see her; by the expression on his face, he was as keen to meet up again as she was.
‘Am I late?’ she gasped.
‘No, not really. All right, maybe a little.’ He grinned his open grin and she felt the tiredness from her shift vanish. ‘Do you want to go in? You Brits like a cup of tea and a scone – is that how you say it? – at this time of day, don’t you?’
Peggy cast a glance into the busy tea room, noting the shoppers with their purchases piled around them, or at least those who had been lucky enough to find what they wanted. The hubbub of conversation was audible even from beyond the doors. Tempting as it was, she knew they would have to shout to be heard. ‘No,’ she said decisively, ‘let’s walk. Have you ever been along the Embankment?’
James shook his head. ‘Can’t say as I have.’
Peggy slipped her arm through his and guided him down the narrow streets towards the water. He looked up at the old buildings, their windows taped or boarded up, their grand porches and side entrances sandbagged, but still impressive. ‘Wow, this is like walking through history,’ he said. ‘Look at those arches, all pointed. They must have been there for … how many years?’ He glanced at Peggy but she laughed it off.
‘I don’t know. I don’t really think about it. Hundreds, maybe. I’m the wrong person to ask – I never took much notice of history at school. It never seemed to have much to do with how we live now.’
He nodded as they walked on. ‘I know what you mean. Still, to have this all around you – I guess it’s different if you live here all the time, ain’t it? You got no reason to come and visit these places.’ He sighed, gazing about them. ‘Makes it all the more important to keep it this way, make sure the bombs don’t do any more damage. You can’t replace this sort of thing.’
‘I suppose not.’ They came out of the narrow street and down to the broad sweep of the Embankment. Peggy pointed towards Hungerford Bridge.
‘That got hit a couple of years ago, and the station as well. People were killed. There were some offices on the other side that took a hit too. You never knew which trains would be running back then. It kept us all guessing.’
James nodded solemnly. ‘I can’t even imagine, Peggy. You must have been very brave. I don’t want to think of you in danger like that, it makes my heart sore to think about it.’
Peggy shrugged. ‘I wasn’t brave, not really. Not like some of my friends. You met Belinda, the very tall one with black hair. She almost got burnt by acid when rescuing a little boy with a broken leg. Or Billy, our ARP warden – he got knocked over by a drunk driver in the blackout. We’ve had all sorts – it’s strange, we sort of got used to it.’
James gave himself a small shake. ‘That ain’t right; you shouldn’t have to get used to stuff like that. It’s not normal.’
Peggy gave a small smile. ‘I know that now, looking back on it. But at the time you just have to get on with it. You go in to work even if you haven’t slept much, cos you know the gas masks have to be made. It’s just how it is.’
James turned and took her in his arms. Above them the trees were in full bloom and the new green leaves stirred in the breeze, sending patters of shadows down onto the pavement. ‘That’s bravery, Peggy,’ he said seriously. ‘We’re being trained to go into battle and half of the guys think it’s one big game. I don’t think it is – but it’ll be action, and if we do it well then we might get praised for being heroes. But you folks, you stayed at home and you kept everything going. The fight couldn’t go on without that. You told me your man died, and your baby that never was, and yet you kept on going through all of that. Now that’s what I call bravery.’
‘Oh, stop.’ Peggy felt her eyes fill with tears and couldn’t look at him.
‘It’s true.’ He traced the line of her chin and she had to meet his gaze. ‘Peggy, you’re beautiful, you know that?’
She blushed, her hair blowing in the breeze, not knowing what to say. ‘I … I …’
He stopped her protest by kissing her, and instantly she responded, knowing how well they fitted together, wanting never to let him go. The light sunshine warmed his uniform jacket and his carefully combed hair had the slight tang of Brylcreem, and yet it was a scent like nothing she had ever encountered before. At the same time it seemed deeply familiar, as if she had been waiting for it all her life. She tightened her arms around his waist. ‘James …’ she sighed, and almost cried with the sudden flood of emotion.
‘Peggy, my beautiful Peggy.’ He sank his face into her flyaway hair. ‘Did you hear what I said to you last night when the band were finishing? It was all so loud, I didn’t time it right at all, and I don’t know if you caught my meaning or not.’
She turned her face against his shoulder, resting her cheek against his jacket. ‘I don’t know if I heard it right. Did you hear what I said back to you?’ She wondered if she was tempting fate, even by asking. What a fool she would seem if she’d got it wrong.
‘Can’t say I’m that good at lip reading,’ he said, and she could feel his breath warm on her scalp, ‘but I could have sworn you said the same thing to me as I said to you.’ He held her tighter still. ‘I love you, Peggy. That’s what I tried to tell you when that band was doing its last number. I love you, because you’re beautiful, and brave, and your eyes light up when you laugh, and you can jitterbug as well. What more could I ask for?’
Peggy gave a small hiccup and gasped for air. ‘I thought that’s what you said. I wasn’t sure, I didn’t want to assume. But I said I love you too. You make me feel … like flying. Like I never thought I’d feel again. Like the bad things are behind me now.’
‘That’s right, Peggy. Put those bad things away. You can’t change them but you got me now,’ he said seriously. ‘I ain’t going to let you go. You can rely on me. I’m going to treat you like you deserve, cos you are one very special woman. I’m a lucky man.’
Peggy blinked hard. ‘R-really?’ she managed to say, and laughed in happiness. ‘Oh James, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But we’re here, aren’t we? We’re here together. I don’t care what people say. None of that matters, cos I’ve got you.’
He swept her around, lifting her off her feet. ‘Yes you have. Be very sure of it. I’ve got you safe, Peggy. That’s all there is to it.’
For a magical moment there was nothing but the two of them looking into each other’s eyes, the light from the trees filtering through the leaves and the glint of the sun on the Thames beyond the river wall. Then a train must have disgorged its passengers at Charing Cross, as a swarm of people swept down the steps from the bridge and began to flow around them. Reluctantly Peggy broke away, stepped back and took his hand. ‘Come on, I’ll give you another part of my tour. See that down there? That’s Cleopatra’s Needle …’ And she drew him away from the bridge, along the pavement, but walking on air.