‘Who’s askin’?’ She had to be sure. They could be a truckload of Germans, for all she knew, come down by parachute. ‘I mean, how do I know where you’ve come from?’
She gazed up at him, unblinking. His hair was cut short, his face inclined to roundness and his mouth she disliked at once, as it was too much on the big side and drooped at the corners. Gormless-looking, Vi would have called him, had it not been for his undoubted arrogance and the unspoken proclamation of birth and breeding and his divine right to be heard and obeyed.
‘Where we’ve come from, sir!’ He reminded her of the three pips at his shoulder. ‘And if this is the Wrens’ quarters at Ardneavie, please find Lady Lucinda Bainbridge for me and be sharp about it. I haven’t got all night.’
Shocked, Vi stood very still. Lady Lucinda? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Lucinda had a handle, and her never saying a word about it!
‘Sorry, but she’s not in. She – she’s watch aboard and she’ll not be ashore till past midnight.’ Instinct put the lie on Vi’s lips. ‘Who shall I tell her was askin’?’
‘Tell her Captain Charles Bainbridge called. Bainbridge.’ He said the name slowly, mouthing it as if she were deaf or stupid, or both. ‘Tell her I was passing on manoeuvres – got it?’
‘Sir.’ The corporal at the driving wheel coughed loudly, looking pointedly at his watch. ‘With respect, sir, we are overdue. We’re going to be in lumber if we don’t make it back to HQ by 2300 hours and –’
‘All right, all right.’ Testily Charles Bainbridge returned his attention to Vi. ‘Be sure Lady Lucinda gets my message.’
Vi looked him straight in the eye. Malevolently, defiantly. She had perfected it at the training depot, that non-speaking and-the-same-to-you-mate stare. Its official name was dumb insolence.
‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘I heard, sir,’ Vi ground. And three bags full, sir!
She stood as the truck reversed awkwardly in the narrow lane then watched until it disappeared into the darkness of the Craigiebur road.
Flamin’ Norah, but what was she supposed to make of that? Lucinda a lady! Lovely, scatty Lucinda, who was always as broke as the rest of them, one of the upper crust!
But she should have guessed, Vi acknowledged. What with Lady Mead and Nanny and that lovely, plummy accent, it should have been there for anyone to see. Yet Lucinda hadn’t told a soul, and what was worse, the snotty so and so with three pips up was Charlie, Lucinda’s intended. Mother of God, it didn’t bear thinking about.
In that instant Vi was filled with overwhelming satisfaction that Lucinda was out with her American. Instantly all opposition to Lucinda’s infidelity was completely withdrawn, because Charlie Bainbridge was pig-ignorant, and nasty with it, too.
Good on yer, Lucinda – Vi sent her new-found thoughts winging – I don’t know what you’re doin’ right now, queen, but do it a bit more, eh?
Charlie was a toe rag, Vi brooded darkly. He was worse than a toe rag, in fact. Charlie, she was forced to admit it, was a right little twerp!
With difficulty, she returned her attention to the blackout, brooding on the unjustness of life, wondering what a girl as nice as Lucinda could be thinking about.
She glanced down at her watch. Ten o’clock and time to riddle the ashes from the boiler then fill it to the brim with coke. And after that she would sit at the table outside the regulating office and tick off the late passes as they came in. Would Lucinda, she wondered, be adrift again and come in by way of the pantry window? Oh, but she hoped so!
That’s my girl. Vi, grinned, making a mental note to check the pantry-window catch. You’re goin’ to be a long time married to that Charlie. Have fun while you can, queen!
Lucinda came in through the front door at 2228 hours.
‘You’re early, love.’ Vi smiled. ‘Had a good time then?’
‘Oh, yes, Vi. Mike’s a marvellous dancer and he can jitterbug, too. But you needn’t worry. He didn’t ask me for another date.’
‘Worry? Listen, queen, you’re a big girl now. What you do is your own affair. What really bothers me is’ – she dropped her voice dramatically – ‘well, I wonder why you never told us you’d got a title?’
‘Me? You mean – oh, Vi, who told you? Did Charlie phone?’
‘No, Charlie didn’t phone.’ Vi waited pointedly for an explanation.
‘Look, Vi, I’m sorry, but why should I tell anyone?’ Lucinda’s face flushed bright red. ‘I mean, I like it better being just me. I don’t suppose you’d keep it to yourself? Having a title can be a bit of an embarrassment, actually, especially when it’s just about all one has. We aren’t rich, you know, or eccentric. It just so happens that in my case my father’s an earl. Nothing at all to do with me, really. But how did you find out, Vi? Who phoned?’
‘Nobody phoned. Someone told me, though.’ The bad news could wait no longer. ‘Your Charlie’s been.’
‘Charlie! Here? Oh, my God, and I was out! What was he doing at Ardneavie? What did he say?’ Lucinda seemed near to tears.
‘Not a lot. He was on manoeuvres, he said. He was only here a couple of minutes. Time was a bit short, I think.’
‘Vi! I’ve just thought!’ Lucinda’s cheeks flushed scarlet. ‘Where did you say I was?’
‘Out with an American, of course.’ Vi grinned. ‘What did you think I’d tell him – that you were watch aboard and wouldn’t be ashore till midnight?’
‘You told him I was on watch? Oh, Vi, what a darling you are. I suppose that’s why I haven’t heard from him. He hates it, but every so often he has to go on manoeuvres. Poor Charlie. And I was thinking awful things because he hadn’t written. Now I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every reason to be, but don’t go on about it, there’s a dear. I’ll write him a letter before I go to sleep. I promise I will.’
‘Me, angry? Away with your bother! And I wouldn’t write that letter tonight. Leave it till tomorrow. You won’t feel half so guilty about things in the mornin’. Now off you go upstairs, queen. I’ve just got to make a hot drink for Ma’am, then I’ll be up. Fancy a cup, do you?’
‘Yes, please. That would be lovely.’ For a moment Lucinda hesitated, her eyes troubled, then brushing Vi’s cheek with her lips she whispered, ‘You are an old love, Vi. Thanks.’
Eyebrows raised, Vi watched Lucinda’s retreating back. No more dates, eh? My word, but she wouldn’t like to bet on it.
She shook her head dolefully. Mike Farrow wasn’t going to fade into the sunset, Vi knew it for sure, for when Lucinda Bainbridge walked in her eyes had borne the dazed, delighted expression of someone who had just been kissed goodnight, very thoroughly kissed goodnight. Oh, not even with somebody else’s money would Vi be betting on it. Sighing, she placed the kettle to boil.
Lucinda lay wide awake, staring up into the darkness until it broke into shifting, swimming shapes, thinking about Mike, remembering their goodbye …
She had not expected him to kiss her and was pleased when he placed a forefinger beneath her chin and, tilting it gently, placed his lips on hers. She was glad of the blackout because she knew she was blushing furiously, yet she felt cheated too, because she had wanted it to last just a little bit longer.
‘Goodbye,’ she whispered, the palms of her hands flat on his jacket lapels. ‘Tonight was fun and it’s been great knowing you. Good luck, Mike. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’ On tiptoe she returned