‘If she ever does,’ June cut in crossly. ‘Between Hilda and Matron the poor little kid doesn’t have a chance.’
‘We’ll think of something.’ Iris drew her brows together. She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go down to the ward ready for the night shift.’
At least these two girls feel the same as I do, June thought, as Iris vanished. And dear Bertie was sympathetic too, the way she had Lizzie in the kitchen, keeping an eye on her in the mornings. She wasn’t alone in trying to think of some way that Lizzie could be brought into the daily life, along with the others. The three of them – four, counting Bertie – would come up with something. Lizzie would begin to speak again, June was certain. That little secret smile they’d shared gave her hope.
‘We should ask Kathleen if she’s coming to the dance with us tonight,’ Iris said when the children were filing out of the dining room after breakfast. ‘She usually does, even though she’s got a boyfriend.’
June raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t like to comment that if she had a boyfriend she didn’t think she’d be interested in going to any dance.
‘You look rather disapproving.’ Iris got hold of a young lad who was trying to push in front of her. ‘Just watch it, young Baker.’ She turned to June. ‘Kathleen says she wants to have a bit of fun as you never know when your last day might come. She says she’s sure Dick is enjoying himself when he gets some time off.’
‘I didn’t mean to look disapproving,’ June said quickly. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm but with such a shortage of girls she might have her head turned … especially if all your stories about the Americans and the money they spend on their girlfriends are true.’
Iris laughed. ‘Dick would soon put a stop to anything like that, though he’s not near enough to keep a close eye. He’s somewhere the other end of England and she hasn’t seen him for six months or more. Anyway, I’ll ask her, if it’s all right with you.’
‘Of course it is. I like her company.’
‘And you’re definitely coming? You’re not going to back out at the last minute?’
‘No, I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to appear in anything special. I’ve only got a black skirt and a green blouse – not at all suitable for a dance. But it will have to do.’
‘We may have to make you a dress from the curtains in the common room.’ Iris giggled. ‘Like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.’
June grinned. ‘That was wonderful, wasn’t it? She certainly had Rhett Butler fooled – for a while anyway.’
Even though June worried that her outfit wouldn’t be good enough and she’d be embarrassed, she couldn’t help feeling a little buzz of excitement. She hadn’t been out for the evening since her arrival and it was less than a fortnight until Christmas. In fact, this was the RAF’s Christmas ‘do’. It would be nice to be out of the home, magnificent as it was, for a change. She wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond that.
Kathleen didn’t go with them after all. She’d finally had a letter from her boyfriend and told June and Iris she was going to stay in her room and reread his words to her heart’s content.
‘I’ve got to stay faithful for once in my life,’ she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
‘Next time, maybe,’ Iris said. ‘Right, Junie, are you nearly ready?’
June had spent a miserable hour trying to make herself look more feminine than she’d felt lately. She’d powdered her nose, and dabbed on some lipstick. Even though she’d eked it out, the stick was going down at an alarming rate. But tonight she wanted to look her best, especially when she didn’t have a nice dress to wear.
It was her hair that was giving her the most trouble. It was so thick it refused to stay in place no matter how many times she practised the Victory Roll. Athena Graham always had a perfect one. So why couldn’t she do one? In the end she pulled up a hank of hair at each side and stuck two tortoiseshell combs in. Her only real touch of glamour, she decided, would be the pearl necklace her mother had given her before she died. It had been her grandmother’s before that, and now it was June’s. She bent her neck and set the string of pearls just above her collarbone, fastening it at the back. It was beautiful. Nodding with not exactly satisfaction, but at least approval that she looked clean and tidy, she smiled at the image and the image smiled back at her. There was no more she could do. If they didn’t think she looked right it was just too bad.
‘It’s still snowing,’ Iris said, looking her up and down as was her way. ‘You need your boots. You can take your shoes in a bag and change them once you get there. That’s what I’m going to do.’
June sent her friend a grateful smile. She’d worried that she would look odd changing her shoes at the RAF station. She grabbed her coat and hat and they shot out of the door. The walk to the bus stop seemed shorter now she was used to it and soon they were in a warm bus on their way to Speke RAF station
As the bus jolted along and Iris chattered away, June began to look forward to the evening. She had a strong feeling Murray Andrews would be there and her cheeks warmed like the pearls nestling in the curve of her neck.
The dance was obviously a popular event with the officers, June thought, judging by the amount of noise coming from that direction as she and Iris sat on chairs by the open door, eased off their boots and put them neatly beneath their coats, now hanging on a rail. Her heart started to beat a little faster and she felt her new-found confidence ebbing away as she looked down at her attire, which could never pass for evening wear: her best flower-printed green blouse with short puff sleeves and a plain black skirt that had to go with everything. Well – nothing she could do about it now.
Drawing in a deep breath she put her arm through Iris’s and the two of them stepped into the hall. Officers, all in uniform, dominated the dance hall, which was decorated with paper chains and balloons ready for Christmas. Clouds of smoke wafted towards the ceiling and the room was filled with chatter and Glenn Miller’s music from a small group of musicians at the far end. Uniformed officers were throwing their heads back as they laughed with their friends, for all the world as though they didn’t have a care. As Iris had promised, there were many more of them than there were women. Several of the latter were dressed to the nines, as her mother would have said.
‘You mustn’t ever be caught wearing bright-red lipstick, dear,’ she’d told June once. ‘Men don’t like it and you don’t want to be accused of being fast.’
June’s stomach turned. Cold perspiration gathered on her forehead. She wasn’t dressed properly for a dance at all. She turned away, ready to bolt out of the door and run for the next bus, when she felt Iris’s hand give hers a reassuring squeeze.
‘Not everyone’s dressed to kill,’ Iris whispered. ‘Look, there are some girls over there in uniform.’ She gave a casual wave then glanced at June. ‘With your face and figure you’ll be a match for any of ’em.’
As though to confirm Iris’s remark an exceptionally tall man with a GI crewcut strode up. You could only describe him as handsome, June thought, and he knew it.
‘Hi, girls. Have y’all just arrived?’ He looked and sounded like one of those American film stars Aunt Ada was so fond of. ‘Name’s Charles Lockstone. Well, I’m usually called Chas – or worse, Chuck – straight from Savannah, Georgia.’ He grinned at both women but his eyes lingered on June. They were a light blue, flashing with merriment. ‘So tell me your names, beautiful ladies.’
June gave a small smile just for good manners. She wasn’t used to such a blatant introduction.
‘I’m