He was lying. From the moment he took her hand, Lily felt his rhythm and energy join with hers. It was like being sprinkled with magic dancing dust. The music was loud, all-encompassing, and they fitted into a space on the floor seamlessly. Lily wondered whether everyone else could see the electricity between them. Surely they must? Jamie’s hand pressing into the intimacy of her back felt as if he was touching her flesh, stroking her skin erotically, and not the silken crêpe fabric. She could sense the great strength of his wrist as his other hand held hers tightly, and under his uniform, her fingers felt powerful shoulder muscles move. It wasn’t like dancing: it was like making love.
The music rippled to an end and they stopped dancing and stood staring at each other.
‘Let’s hear it again!’ cried Sybil, like a child, and someone scratched the needle over the gramophone record.
Lily hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until the music started again.
‘I don’t want it to stop,’ he said, his voice close to her ear. Lily closed her eyes and allowed herself to be pulled closer. While around them, couples danced with exuberance, she and Jamie moved as if to different, slower music.
She stared up at him as his dark eyes bored into hers, telling her that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
A whoop from behind made them turn to see Maisie being whirled by one of Philip’s American friends, a blond Army captain who was matching Maisie’s fabulous jitterbugging, swinging her as if she was a doll, her skirts flying.
Seeing Maisie broke the spell. Lily gave herself a mental shake. What had come over her? She’d been around too long to dally with a handsome man in uniform. That wasn’t her plan. And Jamie, no matter how attractive she found him, was from that other world, Diana’s world.
‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit down,’ she told him quickly, determinedly not noticing the disappointment briefly etched on his face.
‘Can I get you something to drink?’ he asked, a mask of politeness up.
Lily would have preferred it if he’d said: ‘What’s wrong with you?’ But his type never would. That was the one joy of the upper classes: they took it all on the chin. A lad back home from Tamarin would have demanded to know why she’d stopped dancing.
‘No, thank you,’ Lily said, just as politely. ‘I got a bit carried away there with the dancing.’ And with you, she wanted to say. ‘I think I’ll sit the next one out.’ She spied Diana standing on the fringes of the group, watching and smiling. ‘Diana’s a marvellous dancer.’
‘I know,’ he said, jaw solid.
‘Good, then you know what a wonderful girl she is too,’ Lily added. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this: urging Jamie to go over to Diana. But he was everything Diana wanted in a man and Lily loved Diana like a sister. Diana longed to be in love and Jamie was, Izzie sighed to herself, special.
‘You’re sending me to dance with Diana?’ he asked, mildly amused.
Lily felt a spark of anger at his amusement. What was he laughing at?
‘She’s probably more your type,’ she said. Damn, that sounded wrong. ‘I mean, you come from the same –’
‘– background?’ he provided.
‘Yes,’ she snapped.
They’d moved away from the dancers now and were at the other end of the room where people were sitting on sofas and chairs, chatting and drinking.
‘Is that important to you?’ he asked. ‘Background?’
‘I bet it is to you.’
‘Not really. Not with the right person.’
‘Good luck finding the right person,’ she said sweetly, then went to sit beside Diana’s maiden aunt Daphne, who was stone deaf.
That would show him, she thought, shouting greetings at Aunt Daphne and all the while watching Jamie, who was still standing close by, smiling at her in a way she could only describe as wicked. He caught her eye and one dark eyebrow lifted marginally, as if to say, I see your game, my dear.
‘Lovely music,’ she shouted at Aunt Daphne, then cursed herself because poor Daphne couldn’t hear very much of anything, much less the music.
‘What?’ screeched the old lady, cupping an ear with one hand while the other held a glass brimming with one of Wilson’s Gin and Italians.
After half an hour of Daphne, and watching Jamie out of the corner of her eye, Lily felt some of the tension leave her when she saw Sybil storm by in tears. If Philip had to leave that night, she assumed that Jamie would go with him. When Jamie was gone, she could relax.
Fifteen minutes later, a red-eyed Sybil and the rest of the wedding party assembled in the vast hall for the leave-takings.
‘I can’t throw my bouquet,’ Sybil wailed to her mother, who was fussing over her, trying to dab at Sybil’s face with a handkerchief.
‘Chin up, darling,’ said Lady Evangeline.
‘I can’t!’
‘Oh, darling, we’ll have another party for your wedding, soon, I promise,’ Philip could be heard saying.
‘Promise?’ sniffled his bride.
‘Promise.’
‘Poor bloke, I feel sorry for him,’ Maisie whispered to Lily. Maisie was definitely tipsy now, rosy-cheeked and sleepy from the cocktails. ‘Doesn’t know what he’s got himself into, I reckon. He’ll soon find out.’
‘Here goes!’ shouted Sybil.
‘Girls, watch out!’ shrieked Diana.
The bouquet was high in the air and then Lily looked up to see it falling, falling, right towards her. At the last second, she grabbed Maisie and shoved her in its path.
‘Lawks!’ squealed Maisie as the flowers fell quite literally on top of her.
Everyone laughed, especially Lily.
Then she felt a strong hand on her waist, gripping her body in the navy spotted crêpe de Chine, the heat of the embrace burning through to her skin.
‘I wanted to say goodbye, Nurse Kennedy,’ said Jamie, his face bent so it was inches away from hers.
In the throng of the crowd, they were pushed against each other.
Their lips met, fiercely and hot.
And then, in an instant, he drew back.
‘Till we meet again?’
Lily could do nothing but look at him as the two men went out the door, comrades and relatives crowding them.
‘Here comes the bride,’ sang Maisie tunelessly, waving her bouquet and putting her arm around Lily.
‘Wasn’t it lovely?’ she sighed.
Lily’s eyes were on the door where Jamie had been moments before.
‘Lovely,’ she breathed, and touched her lips where he’d kissed them. She’d been kissed before but never like that. Why had she played stupid games with him? Why walk away when they were dancing?
She felt furious with herself. That inherent spikiness in her character had let her down again. Now he was gone and who knew when she’d see him again?
September 1944
Sybil had pulled out all the stops for her wedding party, part two, but even so, it fell short of the grand celebration