‘Well, what do you figure?’ A hand pats George’s shoulder. A soldier’s moon-shaped face, with a dusting of freckles across his nose, grins at him. ‘Charlie Murphy from the 57th Newfoundlanders over in Filby. You remember? I met you here with my friend Tom back in the summer. He spilt Coke all over your girlfriend’s dress. Oh, she was some vexed, wasn’t she? Could have frozen the North Atlantic with that face. I’ve been lookin’ out for you lot. Where’ve you been?’ He scans the crowd past George’s shoulder. ‘Is Ruthie with you? I’d be up for a dance or twenty with her.’
George looks at the boyish face and shakes his head. ‘Ruthie … Ruthie’s not here.’
Charlie’s face falls. ‘Don’t tell me another fella’s cut in?’
‘No. I’m terribly sorry, Charlie. There was a bomb. Her whole family … they were sleeping. They didn’t make it, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, Jaysus.’ Charlie rubs his fingers over his eyes. ‘You knows, b’y, when you joins up you knows there’s a chance … there’s a chance you might not come back. But you never figure a pretty girl you meet at a dance, in her own home …’
George looks at the young soldier. It’s like all the joy stored in Charlie’s compact, exuberant body has melted away, like the ice lolly from Mr Suckling’s newsagent’s that he’d once left out on the garden table. He pats Charlie’s shoulder. ‘How about I get us a couple of beers?’
‘Nah, b’y. If it’s all the same to you, I’m gonna call it a night.’ Charlie nods towards the dance floor. ‘I sees Tommy’s off dancin’ with your girlfriend. Let him know I’ve caught the early train back to Great Yarmouth. I’ll gets myself a lift to Filby from there. I don’t much feels in the mood anymore.’
‘Of course.’
Charlie gives George a thumbs up. He nods in Thomas’s direction. His friend is swinging Ellie around the floor in an energetic jitterbug. ‘I’d be watching out for old Tommy, there. All the girls loves him back home. He’s as smooth as the ice on an inland pond, that one.’
George looks over at the two dancers. Ellie throws back her head and giggles as she loops under Thomas’s arms.
‘Thanks, but I don’t need to worry. Ellie’s my girl. We’re getting married as soon as the war’s over.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then. Nothin’ to worry about.’ Charlie adjusts his beret. ‘All the same, I’d keep my eyes peeled, if I was you. There’s nothin’ on earth like the charm of a Newfoundlander. And, I knows what I’m sayin’ ’cause I am one.’
***
The music segues into a leisurely foxtrot. Thomas draws Ellie closer and she smiles at him nervously, though she’s in no particular rush to leave the dance floor. ‘I’m getting rather thirsty after all that jitterbugging, Thomas. George was getting us some beer. He’ll wonder what’s happened to me.’
‘I’m pretty sure he knows where you’re at.’ Thomas nods towards the stage, where George leans against a pillar sipping a beer as he watches the dance floor. ‘Can’t say as I blame him.’
Ellie glances over at the stage and gives her fiancé a wave. ‘George has nothing to worry about. We’ve been engaged for ages.’
Thomas taps Ellie’s ring finger. ‘Why haven’t you got an engagement ring on your finger, then, maid?’
‘Oh, well, you know, the war and all that. He needs to save up some money. He works over at Mcklintock’s Chocolates. He’s in administration. He’s making his way up the ladder.’
‘Sounds like a clever fella.’
‘Oh, he is.’
‘I’ve saved up some stamps for him. Why anyone’d want to collect stamps is a mystery to me. Just pieces of paper as far as I can tell. My mam writes to beat the band. Every week I gets seven letters from her. She must be usin’ up all the ink in Newfoundland. I’ll bring the stamps next week.’
‘Next week?’ Was he expecting to see her next week?
‘Sure thing. We all wants to get away from barracks come Saturday. They’re puttin’ on trucks to bring us into town from next week. We won’t need to squeeze onto the two carriages on the train. Some fellas always get left behind. They were goin’ to have a riot on their hands if they didn’t sort it out.’
‘Well, George will appreciate that. The stamps, I mean.’
Thomas raises an ash-blond eyebrow. ‘How about you? Would you be happy to have a go on the dance floor again with a fella with two left feet?’
‘Two left feet?’ Ellie laughs. ‘You must be joking. You jitterbug better than any of the boys around here.’
‘That’s because a lot of us have family down in Boston. They brings us American records when they visits. Newfoundland’s a right crossroads of the world. All the aeroplanes heading to Europe has to refuel in Gander. They’d drop like a brick into the ocean on their way over if they didn’t. We had Carole Lombard over there in St John’s just before I signed up. The girls were all out in force hopin’ to see Clark Gable, but he didn’t show up. That’s her husband, you know. I read it in the Telegram.’
‘Ruthie would have loved to see Clark Gable.’
‘You never knows. Maybe she’ll see him here in Norwich some day.’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘Ruthie … Ruthie’s gone. Her house was hit by a bomb in July.’
Thomas squeezes Ellie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. That’s hard.’
‘Thanks. Yes. It’s very hard.’ Ellie leans her head against the rough khaki wool of Thomas’s uniform. ‘It doesn’t seem fair.’
‘No, it’s not. We just has to keep going. That’s the choice we got.’
‘It’s why I decided to join the fire service. I couldn’t not do something.’ Ellie sighs against the khaki wool and looks up at Thomas. ‘I was studying art. I had a job helping a famous artist.’ She shrugs. ‘I gave it up. I still take an art class a couple of times a week, but it’s getting busier at the fire station. The Germans have already been over twice this month. One just missed bombing the Cathedral by a whisker.’
‘He must have been blind. A boy with a slingshot could hit that with his eyes closed.’
Ellie laughs and looks at Thomas. Ruthie was right. He has the same sandy blond hair and strong-boned face as Gary Cooper. The nose a little too long but fitting just right in his angular face. Not that it mattered, of course. It was just nice to dance with someone who knew how to, for a change. What was wrong with that?
A crash outside the building thunders through the music and the chatter, setting the paper streamers swaying. The band judders to a stop and a silence as thick as a winter quilt falls over the room. Then, a crush as the crowd suddenly surges towards the exit. Another crash outside, further up the road, followed by the whine of the air raid sirens.
Thomas grabs Ellie’s hand. ‘Not that way. There’s a cellar. The door’s at the back.’
‘No, I need to find George.’ Ellie pulls away and fights her way towards the stage. ‘George!’
A pair of arms enfold her. The familiar brown wool suit. ‘I’m here, Ellie.’
Thomas taps George’s shoulder. ‘C’mon, b’y. There’s a cellar. We’ll be safe there.’
***
Ellie sits on a wooden crate packed with wine bottles beside a large beer cask. The cellar windows are blacked out and reinforced with a crisscross of masking tape, and a single electric bulb hangs from the ceiling, throwing an eerie yellow light over the round-bellied beer casks and wooden crates of wine and soft drinks. Others have