Chapter Fifty-Four

Helen stayed in the toilets for a good ten minutes before she felt able to face the world. The flicker of hope she had felt earlier – that her love for John might somehow be possible – had been well and truly snuffed out. John would never be hers. She had to accept it and move on with her life. She was in her mid-twenties. Most women of her age and ‘standing’, as her dear mother would put it, were married. Most of them had already started having their families.

She walked back down the corridor. It seemed as if the frustration she felt, knowing that John loved her and that she could never tell him she loved him too, might send her mad.

As she walked back into the hall, she seemed to see couples everywhere. Happy couples. Carefree. In love. Dorothy and Bobby were dancing close together, their chemistry plain to see. Then there was Angie and Quentin, complete opposites yet perfectly matched, enjoying the slow waltz. Hannah and Olly could be mistaken for professional ballroom dancers, Rina was with her ‘admirer’, Harvey, Martha was with the Salvation Army tuba player, and Iris and Audrey were with two of the French freedom fighters. A nurse, dancing with a tall soldier who had a bandaged head and was wearing what looked like one of the suits Kate had brought, was smiling up at her patient. Helen could see the love in her look – and that her love was very much reciprocated.

Walking over to Jack and Gloria, Helen saw they were chatting to a couple of younger soldiers. John had told her that some of his ‘new recruits’ were very young, but these lads seemed more like boys than men. She dodged a couple of soldiers dancing together, laughing and acting the clown, and another soldier who was being spun around by his mate in his wheelchair, a glass of punch spilling onto his dressing gown as his more able-bodied partner got a little carried away.

She was just a few yards from reaching her father and Gloria when she heard her name being called. She looked round to see Matthew. Dahlia was behind him, raising her hand to tap him on the shoulder, but it was too late, he had spotted Helen and had started striding towards her. Dahlia looked crestfallen.

‘Thank goodness for that!’ Matthew exclaimed on reaching Helen. ‘I was starting to panic that you’d left without saying goodbye.’

Helen forced a smile as he stood looking at her.

‘May I have the pleasure of a dance, Miss Crawford?’ He bowed slightly, his eyes sparkling with a hint of roguishness, as they always did.

‘You may,’ Helen said, resignedly.

She stepped towards him.

They waited a moment for the next song to start.

There was a crackle as the needle was placed on the new record. Then came the resonant voice of Judy Garland as she started singing ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’. The song had been a smash hit, but every time Helen heard it played, it made her feel sad. She felt Matthew’s hands go around her waist as he gently pulled her close. She rested her hand on his shoulder and held his hand with her other one. His touch, she thought, was surprisingly gentle.

As the song played, they danced slowly. A meandering waltz. Helen could feel Matthew pull her closer as they turned. She closed her eyes and saw John’s face. She didn’t push the image away, but allowed herself to be deceived. Allowed herself to believe that it was John holding her – John’s breath on her neck. She lifted her head slightly and could feel warm lips brush her own. They were John’s lips. And so, she allowed herself to be kissed. Just briefly. Gently. Because it was John. It really was John.

Helen rested her head on Matthew’s shoulder.

She listened to the lyrics.

And as she listened and danced, she thought of John and a solitary tear escaped from the corner of her eye and slowly trickled down the side of her face.