After the death of Dulcie’s younger sister, Edith, Dulcie and Rick’s parents had moved to Kent to get away from the bombs.
‘I suppose Mum is still going on about Edith, is she?’ Dulcie asked before Rick could answer Olive. ‘She always was Mum’s favourite. I expect she thinks she’s up there in heaven caterwauling along with the angels now.’
‘Dulcie,’ Olive protested, but Dulcie simply tossed her head. ‘Well, it’s true. She was Mum’s favourite and that is what she will think.’
Everyone at number 13 knew about the rivalry that had existed between Dulcie and Edith when they had both been living at home before the war. Edith had been their mother’s favourite and favoured child, a fact about which Dulcie had vigorously complained for as long as they had all known her. Initially Olive had believed that Dulcie must be exaggerating. It seemed impossible to her, as the parent of a much-loved only child, that any mother could favour one child to the extent that Dulcie had claimed. However, after Dulcie had damaged her ankle during an air raid, Olive had visited Dulcie’s mother to alert her to the fact that Dulcie was in hospital. She had discovered then that Dulcie’s mother did indeed favour her younger daughter above her elder, and the compassion that Olive now felt for Dulcie, despite her often brash manner, dated from that visit. Not, of course, that she would ever hurt Dulcie’s keen pride by letting her know that. Hence her chiding comment.
Dulcie ignored Olive’s gentle rebuke. She wouldn’t want anyone else to know it for the world, but deep down inside her there was still a small, scratchy, sore place that hurt every time she thought about the way her mother had favoured – and loved – Edith more than she had done her.
Edith had been their mother’s pride and joy right from the minute she had been born, and that pride and joy had only grown once Edith had developed a singing voice that, according to the agent who’d taken her under his wing, would give her a career that would rival that of Vera Lynn.
Their mother had been devastated when Edith hadn’t returned home from a singing engagement when the Blitz had been at its worst. Her body, like so many others, had never been recovered, and they had been told by local officials that they must assume that Edith had been killed. The horribleness of there being no body and everything that implied – there were the most awful stories about absolutely nothing being left of people apart from what looked like a patch of sticky toffee on the ground – meant that their mother had been unable to bear to continue to live in London. Edith had been everything to her, whilst she …
Seeing his sister’s expression and guessing what she was thinking, Rick swiftly changed the subject.
‘John’s home on leave as well,’ referring to the son of the builder for whom their father worked. ‘I left him down in Kent with his mum and dad. He said to give you his best.’
Making a speedy recovery, Dulcie preened herself. John had always been sweet on her, right from their shared schooldays.
‘Dad’s settled in Kent really well. John’s dad and uncle have got a nice little business going down there and Dad reckons they did the right thing moving out of London. You should go down and see them if you get the chance.’
‘What, and have Mum going on about how much better than me Edith was?’ Dulcie scoffed. ‘No, thanks. You are coming to the New Year’s Eve dance, aren’t you?’ she demanded.
‘Of course I am. There’s no way I’m going to miss out on the chance to dance with all those pretty girls,’ Rick laughed.
‘Deserve a medal, you lot do, for showing them what’s what in the desert,’ Ted chipped in, giving Rick an approving look. ‘Read about it in the papers, I did,’ he continued in his quiet way.
‘We had the RAF to give us a hand,’ Rick told him. ‘Mind you, for once I think I’d rather have been up in the air than down on the ground. Gets everywhere, that sand does, and I mean everywhere,’ he emphasised feelingly, causing the other two young men to respond with broad man-to-man grins whilst the girls affected not to understand.
Then, just as Olive was beginning to feel concerned that the conversation might be venturing in a direction best conducted in male-only company, Rick said, ‘I saw a bit of what the German bombs have done to London on my way from the station, and if there’s anyone deserves a medal from anyone then it’s them what have had to cope with being blitzed. Compared with what I’ve seen, marching through sand and firing off a few rounds at the enemy is child’s play.’
Rick was really a very pleasant young man, and a very thoughtful one, Olive admitted, when he tipped Dulcie firmly off his knee and announced, ‘You’ll all be wanting to get some sleep. Is it still all right for me to kip down at Ian Simpson’s, do you know, Mrs Robbins?’
‘It sure is,’ Drew answered him for Olive, explaining, ‘I lodge there and Ian told me that you were welcome to stay.’
Cocoa mugs were quickly drained, everyone standing up, the girls going to help the young men retrieve their coats and hats, Tilly pulling a small private face to Drew as she whispered, ‘It’s a pity Rick had to arrive now and not during the daytime tomorrow.’
Drew knew what she meant. Rick’s arrival and the fact that he too was staying at Ian Simpson’s meant that Drew and Tilly wouldn’t be able to say a long lingering good night in the discreet darkness of the blacked-out street.
‘We’ve got tomorrow night,’ he reminded her, ‘and since it’s New Year’s Eve I bet there’ll be plenty of slow numbers being played at the Hammersmith Palais.’
Tilly nodded, her heart thumping in excited anticipation of the dance and the chance for her and Drew to be close.
Stifling a yawn, Sally helped Olive clear away the empty mugs. She’d offered to work New Year’s Eve since she couldn’t be with George, who was on duty. It was disappointing, of course, not to be able to welcome in the New Year with him but there’d be other dances and hopefully other New Years. She gave a small shiver despite the warmth of the kitchen. It didn’t do to risk tempting fate by looking too far ahead or making too many plans during wartime.
It was funny the changes the last months of the year had brought to them all, Tilly thought a little later, lying snugly in her bed whilst Agnes slept peacefully in the bed next to hers. Last New Year’s Eve they had all been heart- and fancy-free, except for Agnes, and they had tended to stick together when they went out dancing. Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, though, it would only be her and Dulcie going out together with their partners. It was a pity – Tilly had enjoyed it when they all went out together. It had been fun. But that was what happened when you met someone special, she acknowledged. You wanted to be with them every minute you could. She felt sorry for Sally, who couldn’t see George. New Year’s Eve, even more than Christmas, was a time when people in love wanted to be together, to make all those sweet special promises to one another.
Falling in love might have changed the amount of time they spent together but it hadn’t and couldn’t change the closeness of their friendship. The four of them were still close friends, of course, and they always would be. Tilly knew that they’d all drop everything like a shot if one of the others needed them.
As she had done every single night since he’d first put it round her neck, Tilly reached for Drew’s ring, holding it tight as she whispered a prayer for him, to join all the other prayers she said every night for those she loved, and for their country.
Three
‘You look lovely, beautiful, and I’m the luckiest guy in the world.’
Tilly’s face flushed a pretty pink as she listened to Drew’s obviously heartfelt compliment. He’d been waiting for her when she’d come downstairs in the plum-coloured silk velvet dress her mother had had made for her in the early months of the war. With its nipped-in waist and bias-cut full skirt it emphasised Tilly’s slender figure, the colour of the rich velvet complimenting the dark hair