April Wilton clung to the side of the motor torpedo boat. They were racing across the choppy grey waters of the Solent – testing the engine that she and her fellow maintenance Wren, Paula Simms, had just serviced – and she was filled with the exhilaration of the moment. She had been feeling gloomy since her few hours of home leave the previous day, but now she was determined to keep cheerful.
April’s fair hair was whipped by the wind as the sea spray flew from either side of the MTB and sparkled like jewels in the weak, wintry sunlight. She’d started out on her journey home full of excitement in the hope that her mother would admire her smart uniform and be proud of her. This longing to have her mother’s approval had, however, ended in the usual failure, and no compliment had been forthcoming. The sad truth was something April could no longer deny. Mildred Wilton was an exacting, selfish woman, forever finding fault and bemoaning the hardships of war as if they were a deliberate assault by the combatants on her comfortable life. But then Mildred could always lay the blame for whatever ailed her on someone else. April knew she should just accept that her mother would never change and not let her spoil the wonderful new life April had discovered.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve cheered up at last,’ shouted Paula over the healthy roar of the MTB’s engine. ‘Was the trip home really that bad?’
Despite her resolve, April felt hurt all over again as she remembered the indifferent welcome she’d been given by her mother. She nodded and shrugged. ‘Mother was preoccupied with the new stock of hats for her shop, and after hanging around a bit to listen to her usual gripes about the lack of materials and the uselessness of her hat makers, I took myself off and visited a couple of friends.’
Paula sighed and patted her shoulder. ‘Parents can be very difficult, can’t they? Father spent most of my day’s leave shut away in his study. Still, we’re free of all that now and doing our bit – life is exciting, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is.’ April gripped the handrail tighter as the speeding boat was taken into a sharp turn that in less capable hands would have seen them in the water. She grinned back at Paula as their hair was whipped from their faces, the spray splattered their oilskins, and the wind snatched away the possibility of any further conversation.
April revelled in the marvellous sense of freedom that always came when she was out on the water. Life in the Women’s Royal Naval Service was exciting and fulfilling, a world away from the stifling atmosphere at home and the strictures of boarding school where she and Paula had forged their close bond. She hadn’t regretted a single moment since she’d first heard the lecture from the recruiting officer who’d visited the sixth form, and seen the poster that exhorted her to ‘Join the Wrens and free a man for the fleet!’
She and Paula were both eighteen and had enlisted on the same day almost a year ago following a short course at a secretarial college to fill in the time between school and the adult world. They’d been friends since they both started at their private school, for they not only shared a love of books, cinema and dancing, but soon discovered that their childhoods had been similarly unhappy. Paula’s mother had died before Paula’s sixth birthday, and her father hadn’t known how to deal with his own grief, let alone that of his young daughter, and had immersed himself in his work, leaving Paula to the not-so-tender mercies of a hatchet-faced, coldly efficient nanny during the school holidays.
April’s father had succumbed to a heart attack shortly after her ninth birthday, and she still missed him. Sadly, they hadn’t been particularly close, for his strict upbringing meant that he kept any emotion in tight check beneath a rather formal veneer. Yet he had cared enough for April to have been a buffer between her and Mildred.
Mildred’s attitude to his passing had been one of undisguised relief. She was determined to make good use of the money he’d left to forge a new life for herself. She had never told April much about her life before marriage – April had a vague idea that her mother had been a secretary – but now Mildred launched herself into a new career as the owner of the best hat shop in Tunbridge Wells, unfettered by marriage and the daughter she clearly had little time for. April had never understood this lack of interest or affection, and Mildred had never revealed the reason for it – and so it was with a mutual sense of thankfulness that April had immersed herself in boarding school life and now in this new, exciting adventure in the WRNS.
It hadn’t been easy to start with, for she’d been naïve and painfully shy, and for a while she’d felt isolated amongst the other girls who seemed so self-assured and sophisticated – but that had slowly changed as she’d begun to make friends. Now, at last, she felt she really belonged, and was an intrinsic part of something very special.
She and Paula had completed their initial training at Mill Hill in London, where the days seemed to be taken up with scrubbing floors, keeping fit, learning how to defend themselves in a gas attack, and endless marching – which they both hated. There had been a whole new language to learn now they were part of the Royal navy – beds were bunks, billets had names like HMS Midge, and bedrooms were cabins – but somehow that made it all the more thrilling.
April clung tightly to the railings as the captain of the MTB took it into another tight turn and headed back towards shore – or base, as the navy called it – to where flotillas of MTBs, motor gun boats and small, flat-bottomed landing craft were moored. April glanced across at Paula, saw her grinning, and knew she was thinking the same thing, for this had been the sight that had greeted them when they’d arrived, fresh from training to take up their maintenance drafts. They’d felt very proud in their brand new uniforms of navy blue jacket, skirt, tie and white shirt, with their sailor’s hats perched at a jaunty angle over their brows, and it had been impossible not to giggle and blush at the wolf whistles and shouts of encouragement that followed their march through the docks.
They’d been permitted to choose their job in the Wrens, and rather than be stuck in an office, had cheerfully opted to join the maintenance crew – although they had no idea what that might entail. The mystery was heightened when they were issued with bell-bottom trousers, a boiler suit and oilskins, and they’d wondered what on earth they’d let themselves in for.
April’s smile was wry as the MTB slowed to navigate the narrow waterways between the flotillas. She and Paula had been with three other new recruits when they’d been marched down to the harbour and taken on board an MTB for the first time. They’d scrambled down the hatch to be greeted by the sight of sailors stripped to the waist in the furnace heat of the engine room, and there had been a moment of shocked silence on both sides which was swiftly broken by the chief engineer barking out orders to his men to stop gawping and get on with their work. The sight of so many half-naked men had proved too much for one of the girls who’d clearly led a very sheltered life, for she went puce and shot back up the ladder, demanding to be drafted to an office job.
April and Paula had exchanged glances and stifled giggles as the sailors hastily went back to their duties, but over the ensuing months they’d become inured to the sight of bare, gleaming chests, for they’d spent most of that time in the stifling, sweaty heat of engine rooms, learning to change plugs, strip down gearboxes and distributor heads, and anything else that was needed to keep the boats ready for action.
The MTB came to a halt and rocked gently by the docking pier. April and Paula saluted the captain and quickly negotiated the rusting iron ladder to reach the more stable wooden boards of the dock. With a cheerful wave to the crew, they hurried through the melee of the vast port, eager to get back to their billet, HMS Firefly, to prepare for their night out. The committee for the combined services was laying on a party in one of the large municipal buildings requisitioned by the navy, and they’d been invited.
HMS Firefly was in fact a large guesthouse which had also been requisitioned by the navy, and when the English traitor, Lord Haw-Haw, had declared in one of his propaganda broadcasts that the victorious Luftwaffe had sunk her, it had caused great hilarity to all.
It stood back from the seafront, and was home to fifteen Wrens who worked as dispatch riders, typists, telephonists, plotters and the many other jobs that were available so men could be released for sea duties. The civilian population had mostly been evacuated, but Portsmouth was still bustling despite the almost daily bombing raids which had shattered the town. HMS Firefly was only one of many billets to accommodate girls from the Wrens, WAAF and ATS, and with an American army base nearby, an RAF station on Thorney Island, and thousands of Allied sailors, airmen and marines on shore leave, the vastly outnumbered girls were in constant demand – which was all very exciting.
They clumped through the front door in their thick sea-boots and ran up the two flights of stairs to the cabin they shared beneath the eaves, which had a lovely view of the sea and the flotillas of warships which were anchored in the lee of the Isle of Wight. To their disappointment, the island had suddenly been put out of bounds, and it was rumoured that the joint forces were conducting special training over there – perhaps even preparing for an invasion into France – so she and Paula had not been able to satisfy their curiosity and visit the famous coloured cliffs and sandy beaches.
April pulled off her sodden oilskins and kicked off her boots before sinking onto one of the single beds and stripping off her boiler suit. The room was quite small, and sparsely furnished, but the blue and white navy issue counterpanes made it feel a little more homely. Any clutter was tidied away in the single chest of drawers and wardrobe, for the cabin was inspected each day by their petty officer Wren, and penalties were dished out for the slightest infringement of the strict rule of orderliness.
‘I don’t know about you,’ said Paula from the depths of the sweater she was pulling over her head, ‘but I’m starving. I hope the Yanks are laying on some decent food, because navy rations are getting worse by the day.’ She shook out her dark curls, her brown eyes gleaming with anticipation.
April laughed and stripped down to her regulation underwear of unattractive bra and black-out bloomers. ‘They usually do, and of course the navy will provide extra grog rations.’ She glanced across at her friend and they shared a grin of delight for the evening ahead. The combined services’ parties were becoming quite legendary, and they counted themselves very fortunate not to be on fire-watch duty tonight.
They quickly bathed in the regulation few inches of water in the draughty, freezing bathroom on the lower landing, and then carefully dressed in their smart uniform which was the envy of all the girls in the other services. It was a strict rule that uniform had to be worn at all times – even for parties – and although it would have been lovely to wear a proper frock now and again, it certainly saved on clothing coupons. The navy blue suited them both, the well-fitting double-breasted jacket and pencil-skirt enhancing their slender figures; the black stockings were rather thick lisle, but added a touch of glamour that even the unattractive and rather clumpy lace-up shoes couldn’t diminish.
April brushed out her shoulder-length fair hair and swiftly pinned it into a chignon. She carefully applied mascara, powder and lipstick and then donned her cap so that the blue insignia was at the perfect angle. Adjusting her tie until the knot was set dead centre, she nodded with satisfaction and went to fetch her navy issue gabardine coat.
‘Let’s just hope we don’t have an air raid tonight,’ she said as she waited for Paula to find her umbrella. ‘It would be such a shame to miss the party.’
‘I don’t think Jerry’s too bothered about spoiling our chance for some fun, unfortunately,’ Paula muttered. Banging doors and loud voices reverberated through the house, heralding the departure of the other girls. ‘Come on, we don’t want to miss out on the food – you know what gannets those girls from dispatches are.’
They ran down the stairs and out of the door to discover that darkness had fallen and it had started to rain. The streets gleamed in the pale moonlight that shone fleetingly from between scudding clouds, and water was dripping from the ornate metal trellis above the narrow porch. Unfurling their umbrellas, they made a dash across the road just as their bus wheezed and rattled into view. Having paid the clippie, they greeted the other girls on board and within minutes were excitedly discussing all the wonderful possibilities of the evening ahead.
There was a distinct division amongst the girls, for although they were mostly from respectable middle-class families, there were some who’d been born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths and thought themselves far superior. With their plummy voices and rather snooty bearing, they set themselves apart, while the rest preferred to stay within their own sets – just as they had in their private school days.
As the bus trundled past the yawning bomb sites and shattered remains of buildings, April began to feel uncomfortable at some of the rather vulgar banter that was going back and forth between the girls around her. She enjoyed the dancing and the fun of these parties, but she had certainly never let any of the boys take liberties. Like many of the other girls, Paula had no such hesitation, and the sudden freedom from her restrictive home and school life meant that she’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into whatever was on offer – especially the lure of the rather flashy Americans with their candy, nylons and cigarettes which garnered a kiss and cuddle – and maybe more besides, which April found rather shocking.
Paula had teased April about being such an innocent, and had even tried to set her up on several blind dates, but April was happy to keep them all at arm’s length until the right man came along – even if some of the girls thought she was in danger of being a bit of a prig.
The bus groaned its slow way through the town and arrived on the corner by the municipal building where the sound of the party drifted out to greet them. It was clearly already in full swing. April and Paula hurried off the bus and everyone swarmed towards the sound of the big band music.
The noise was terrific, the vast room crammed with men and women from all the Allied services. The Americans were there in great numbers, with their smart uniforms, their charm and almost childlike openness, and amid the fray were servicemen from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Poland, New Zealand and Australia – all vying for the attention of the comparatively small number of girls.
April and Paula handed in their coats and gas-mask boxes to the woman in charge of the cloakroom and quickly made their way back into the hall. The band was twenty strong and made up of American marines. They were playing Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’, and before they’d had time to survey the food and drink on offer, both girls were whirled onto the dance floor.
The jitterbug was exhausting, but exhilarating too, and April discovered that her partner, an American sailor, was very good at it. She grinned at him in delight, conversation being impossible in all the noise, and threw herself into the dance, noting fleetingly that Paula was dancing nearby with a magnificently moustached RAF squadron leader.
The crush on the dance floor became greater and April was now so out of breath and thirsty that she nodded her thanks to the sailor and forced her way through the melee to the tables which were positively groaning with food and drink. She helped herself to slices of tinned ham, sausage, potato salad, coleslaw and squares of yellow corn bread which the Americans seemed to prefer to the national wheat loaf that she and the rest of the population of England hated – not only for its unappetising colour but for its leaden and rather gritty taste. There were pats of golden butter too – an absolute luxury – and bowls of trifle piled high with whipped cream. The Yanks certainly knew how to cater for a party.
She found a corner to sit and eat her food, watching the fun on and around the dance floor. There was a pall of cigarette smoke curling along the lofty ceiling, and the chatter had risen to be heard above the music. A huge cargo net was suspended from the ceiling, loaded with hundreds of balloons. The Americans had certainly done their best to create a party atmosphere.
It must feel strange for these boys to be so very far from home. She thought about how it would be for them at Christmas. They would miss their families terribly at such a time, she thought wistfully, whereas she would be happier to spend Christmas here than with her mother. They had discussed it on her recent leave, and Mildred had clearly been relieved that April had no plans to stay over the holiday, for she was booked into a hotel for the two days and was adamant that it would have been impossible for April to join her there. April suspected her mother had a new admirer – another in a long line of rather pompous older men since father had died – and was therefore equally relieved that she was on duty.
April finished the delicious meal and sipped at her glass of beer, not quite ready to join in the crush on the dance floor again, when she caught sight of a group of African-American GIs standing on the sidelines surrounded by a gaggle of girls from the ATA. She’d heard about this special tank regiment which had arrived less than a week ago to do their training before they were sent to the front line. Like others before them, they seemed to be enjoying all the female attention – although she knew from past experience that sometimes this could cause trouble, for not all the other Americans appreciated them being here.
As the girls flirted, she watched in amusement, fully understanding their attraction to these rather exotic-looking men who seemed so handsome in their uniforms. And then her gaze shifted and her heart suddenly skipped a beat.
He was taller than the others and the most beautiful man she’d ever seen: broad-shouldered and lean in the hip, with dark brown skin. His aquiline nose was carved perfectly beneath winged black brows, dark eyes, and high cheekbones, and with his firm jawline and almost regal bearing, he stood out amongst his comrades as someone who knew he was very special.
April couldn’t take her eyes off him as he talked to the girls surrounding him and his friends, but when he seemed to feel the intensity of her gaze and looked towards her it was as if the room and the noise had faded into insignificance and they were the only two people there.
His gaze was like a fiery, magnetic touch, driving into her core; drawing her towards him, her body responding in a way that made her pulse race and her insides tremble. She was ensnared by him, unable to look away even as she heard the girls around him giggling and felt the heat and colour rise into her face. He was walking towards her now, those brown eyes holding her as captive as a butterfly in a web.
‘Would you care to dance, ma’am?’ he asked in an almost lazy drawl, so deep and melodious it sent ripples of pleasure right through her.
April nodded, unable to speak, and as he took her hand it was as if he’d bewitched her, for she was hardly aware of floating to her feet and into his arms as the music slowed to a waltz.
‘Sergeant Daniel Clement, at your service, ma’am,’ he said in that dark, deep brown voice.
‘Wren April Wilton,’ she managed as she dared to look back at him and noted how his brown eyes were flecked with gold beneath those long, thick black lashes – and how his lips were sensually formed above the square chin. She hastily looked away, terrified he might read her thoughts.
‘Nice to meet you, April Wilton,’ he said as he drew her closer. ‘I guess we’re goin’ to get along just fine.’
She breathed in the scent of him, felt the strength in his body as he held her close and fell gloriously, hopelessly in love.
He moved with liquid grace around the floor, sweeping her effortlessly from one dance into another until she felt as if she was lighter than air – at one with the music and with him. And when the countdown to midnight began and the lights dimmed, neither of them noticed the balloons drifting down or the raucous yells and cheers from those around them, for they were totally absorbed in one another.
April gazed up at him in that breathless moment as his large hand gently cupped her neck, his eyes questioning. Her whole being was drawn to him, and her lips parted as his fingers caressed her nape and then slowly slid up through her hair.
His beautiful mouth captured her lips and she closed her eyes as she was swept away in a tumult of emotions. His kiss was fire and electricity – it stoked in her wondrous sensations she’d never experienced or even imagined – sensations that made her feel wanton and greedy for more.
He finally drew back and looked down at her with an expression of warm surprise. ‘Wow,’ he breathed. ‘That was some kiss, little lady.’
She gazed at him, her body alive with heat and longing, her lips parted in the hope he would kiss her again.
‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ he murmured. ‘Then I can have you all to myself for a while.’
The warnings of where that might lead clamoured in her head, but she tried desperately not to listen to them – to ignore the memory of her mother’s voice lecturing her about the dangers of men and the need to stay pure until her wedding day. Something powerful had awakened inside her and she wanted his kisses, yearned to feel his hands on her skin – to share the heat of his body, and feel the strength of his arms around her. She was wavering, so close to capitulating despite the fact that she hardly knew him.
‘Come on, April. We have to get back to base before lights out.’
Paula’s voice startled her and broke the spell, and April didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful. ‘Yes, I suppose we must,’ she said reluctantly.
‘This is Saul,’ said Paula with a broad smile as she drew the coloured GI forward. ‘I’m sure that if we ask nicely, he and your friend will walk us back.’
Saul was light-skinned, with tight, curly black hair and the same Southern drawl – but not half as handsome as Daniel, who she quickly introduced to Paula. Daniel didn’t seem at all fazed by the rude interruption as he shook Paula’s hand and smiled cheerfully at his colleague. The four of them left the dance hall arm in arm, and started on the long walk back to HMS Firefly, heedless of the drizzling rain and the cold wind that was coming off the sea.
As they finally reached their billet, Saul led Paula into the deep shadows of the garden wall and Daniel drew April into his arms. His kiss was soft and very gentle, but it caused chaos within April and she was quite breathless by the time he drew back from her.
‘Can I see you again?’
Her racing pulse missed a beat, and before she had time to think about how unwise it was to be over-eager and gauche, she’d blurted out, ‘I’m off tomorrow night.’
His smile was wide, showing wonderfully white, even teeth. ‘That’s a date then,’ he drawled. ‘I’ll come by and pick you up at eight.’
Paula emerged from the shadows, hastily trying to set her cap back in place and her hair into some kind of order. They stood outside the house and watched the two men walk away until they were lost in the blackout.
‘Even when they walk, it’s as if they’re dancing,’ murmured Paula with an appreciative sigh before she unlocked the door and led the way upstairs.
The house was settling down for the night, with only the soft murmur of a wireless and the occasional mutter of voices coming from behind the many closed doors. They reached the attic room and with sighs of weariness laced with pleasure, began to prepare for bed.
April was still trying to come to terms with the storm of emotions she’d gone through that evening, and she noted wryly that her hands were unsteady, her fingers fumbling as she attempted to undo her jacket buttons and loosen her tie.
‘My goodness, you have got it bad, haven’t you?’ Paula teased. ‘Not that I blame you. He’s as handsome as any film star and quite devastating on the dance floor. You were absolutely the centre of attention there for a while.’
April blushed and tried unsuccessfully to unbutton her shirt. ‘I didn’t realise,’ she murmured.
Paula giggled. ‘No, I don’t expect you did. You were certainly taken up with each other all evening.’ Her expression became more serious. ‘I do hope you’ll be careful, April. You’re such an innocent, and those boys are after only one thing – you do know they can’t be trusted, don’t you?’
April’s happy mood disintegrated. She knew it was the common consensus, but she didn’t want to believe it of Daniel. He’d been so tender, so sweet, and hadn’t objected at all when Paula and Saul had interrupted them, or tried to get fresh during their last kiss. ‘I might be an innocent, but I’m not daft,’ she replied lightly. ‘I’ll take care, don’t you worry.’
Paula regarded her for a moment and then sighed. ‘I’ve got an appointment at the birth control clinic on the twenty-seventh. Why don’t you come with me?’
April knew that Paula had fixed herself up shortly after joining the WRNS because she’d been going steady with a rating at the time. However, the thought of going to such a place was quite shocking to April, for it all seemed terribly calculating and actually rather seedy for a single girl to even contemplate doing so. And it wasn’t as if she was planning on sleeping with Daniel – of course she wasn’t. Daniel might have stirred something very powerful and thrilling in her, but now the heat of the moment had passed and she could think clearly, she knew she would find the strength to resist things going any further.
‘I’m on duty early that day. Perhaps another time,’ she murmured.
‘Well, see that you do, April. From the way you and Daniel were carrying on tonight, things could get out of hand very quickly. And I’d hate to see you getting into trouble.’
April knew Paula meant well, but although she had been quite carried away with Daniel tonight, she had absolutely no intention of letting her feelings for him get out of hand. ‘If things look as if they’re getting serious, I’ll go to the clinic,’ she said in appeasement. ‘Now, can we drop the subject and get some sleep?’
April’s resolve weakened over the next ten days as they met at every chance they could snatch during their busy schedules. He’d taken her dancing, and out to dinner; had sat beside her in the darkened cinema, and in the confines of the air-raid shelters, talking, laughing, getting closer as they discovered more about each other. He made her feel cherished, protected and respected – something she’d yearned for all her short life – and as Daniel’s kisses became more demanding and her body cried out to be loved by him, she blocked out the loud warning bells in her head, ignored the irritating niggles of doubt and kept putting off a visit to the clinic. There was a war on and time was precious – and as Daniel had said repeatedly, he’d be shipped out the moment his training was over, and she couldn’t bear the thought of wasting even a minute they could be together.
They’d been dancing and drinking cocktails in the ballroom of a smart country hotel a little way down the coast from Portsmouth, and the heady mixture of alcohol and sensual tension was too much to resist, so when he confessed that he’d taken the liberty of booking them a room for the night, she’d silently taken his hand and gone with him up the stairs.
He’d known this would be her first time, and although she was suddenly overcome with an almost crippling shyness, he’d been gentle and patient, coaxing her to relax and enjoy the sensations his lips and hands were arousing within her. And when it was over and she lay sated and overwhelmed in his arms, he told her he loved her and wanted her to be with him always.