His Very Own Girl (9 page)

Then there were the Americans: Todd Springer, Felix Anderson, and handsome Lee Cooper. He was by far the most suave and easygoing of the men, but never with any sense of false flattery. All three were 4-F for one reason or another, which meant they renewed their ATA contracts every year rather than returning to the States, where they’d be forced to sit out the war. The ATA made no such distinctions. If a qualified male pilot could fly despite his infirmities, he was considered for the service.

Todd was working the
Times
crossword, his obsession, and smoking a cigar despite his emphysema. Felix and Lee were playing poker. Felix had elevated his right foot because of gout, and Lee wore thin leather gloves to conceal fingers twisted by arthritis. They’d been her family since arriving at Mersley—one of the first ferry pools to house both men and women. She enjoyed the varied camaraderie a great deal more than her previous assignment to Hatfield, which was women-only.

Betsy finished a telephone conversation and joined them.

“What trouble’s Howie been up to?” Paulie asked her.

“Still giving them a good kicking.” Betsy had met and married Howard Rosen within a year of arriving in Britain. Howie, a stiff Oxford grad whose only apparent soft spot was for his American wife, was a flight instructor stationed at White Waltham, the ATA’s base of operations northeast of London. “Although he says there’s less call for new pilots.”

“That true, Nicky?” Lee asked, glancing up from his cards.

Nicky was still dressed in his uniform, although everyone else had changed for the evening. “Fewer recruits, maybe, but no reduction in work for the lot of us. The U.S. just finished a week using P-51 Mustang fighters as escorts for their heavy bombers over Germany. Word has it from Command that it was a massive success. Our boys can finally drop over cities, factories, and railroad hubs and still make it back here alive.”

“That’ll help clear the way for the infantry, once they cross over to the mainland,” Betsy said. “Disrupt Hitler’s defenses before the men charge in.”

Lee grinned, as winning as a movie star. “So get ready to move a lot of Mustangs, eh, boss?”

“Absolutely,” Nicky said with a nod. “We’re not working these impossible shifts for nothing.” He turned to Lulu and the girls. “Now how about you dames getting out of here, right? Go enjoy yourselves. You’ll be back in the air soon enough.”

“Just be careful with my Austin.” Lee was the only pilot at Mersley who owned an automobile, which he’d won in a hand of poker during a layover outside Liverpool. Severe petrol rationing meant it rarely left the garage. “I might need it again. One day.”

“If you ever decide to go out on a day off,” Felix said, snickering. “My mama hauls her little old self into town more often than you do.”

“Your mama would stay home, too, if she had you around to fleece at cards.”

“We’ll be good, Lee.” Paulie blew him a kiss. “Promise.”

Nicky touched Lulu’s arm, giving her a pleasant shiver. “A word, Davies?”

“Of course. You two bring the car around, yes? I’ll be right out.”

Betsy and Paulie continued to the foyer while Lulu followed Nicky into the short corridor that connected the lounge and the dining room. He looked tired, and probably faced another three hours of paperwork.

“You should come with us. You’d have a swell time.”

She’d asked on a number of occasions, but he always refused. She wondered at his reasons. Only thirty-five years old, he was as robust as a man a decade his junior. He still flew three or four flights a week despite scheduling, budgeting, and handling relations with Command.

She actually
wanted
to dance with Nicky, if only to see what it was like. He was her superior officer, which might complicate relations, but he would’ve made for a novel night out. They might see where his more obvious interest led.

And he’s safe. Nicky isn’t going anywhere.

To add strength to her invitation, she took his hands in hers. Frankly, she wanted to feel something—
anything
like the tingling anticipation that Joe’s skin brushed over hers. She was a prize idiot for craving that thrill over the companionship of her dear friend.

“I’m well past making a fool of myself in a club.” Nicky kissed her knuckles, just as he had weeks previous. “I simply wanted to let you know that you’ve been approved for four-engine training.”

Lulu couldn’t speak. She was too busy grinning past her shock. Nicky rocked back on his heels, just once, as if his news put a happy little spring in his step.

“When?”

“Couldn’t say. Soon, I’m hoping. Command needs all of us working at full strength. Whatever’s coming, it’s going to be big.”

This time she felt a very different sort of anticipation, one closer to fear. A shadow stretched over the future. Aside from a tiny toehold in Italy where Allied forces had taken back territory, Hitler enshrouded the Continent in the darkness of Nazi oppression. Poland and the nations to the east had been gutted, their people slaughtered. France and the border nations had been subjugated and fortified with German tanks, artillery, and troops. To make even the smallest advance against such a prepared opponent would require the utmost in cooperation and sacrifice.

Every chap she met tonight would take part in that deadly campaign.

“The pilots have been talking,” she said, her throat dry. “We all feel it—an urgency, if you know my meaning. That’s why we’ve been working so hard. It’s finally coming together.”

“So if you’re going to train, it’ll happen soon.”

“I can hardly believe it.” Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a fierce hug. “You made this happen.”

From outside came three quick bursts from the car horn.

Nicky gave her a squeeze, then let go. He cleared his throat, as was his habit. “Nonsense. You worked hard. You’re skilled, dedicated, and you’ve earned it.”

“Maybe, but no one’s ever believed in me as much as you have. That counts for so much. Thank you, Nicky.”

With a bashful smirk, he nodded toward the foyer. “Go now. Have a good time.”

His bright blue eyes still looked tired. He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and strode down the corridor.

Lulu wrestled with a strong urge to stay behind. She and Nicky could play backgammon. They’d talk over coffee and listen to the BBC Home Service at nine. It might begin awkwardly as they found their footing—stuck between colleagues, friends, and a little more. With him, she might rediscover something vital, something as precious as lost treasure: peace of mind.

But the car horn blared again, longer and more impatiently. She tightened the sash of her greatcoat and headed out the door.

Joe was dancing with a short blonde nurse from Wolverhampton when Lulu walked in. He hadn’t known she would be there. But with a weekend pass, the Henley was as good a place as any to spend a Saturday night. He hadn’t been back since fighting Dixon. The odds of running into him once again were probably greater than seeing Lulu, but Joe had taken the chance.

When the song ended Joe spun his partner and finished with a dip. She laughed, a titter so high-pitched that it sailed over the noise of the crowd. “Thanks for the dance,” he said.

“You could buy me a drink.”

He couldn’t remember her name. His gaze was pulled to the front door, where he hoped to catch another glimpse of Lulu. She was still there; a pair of Polish servicemen were already chatting up her and Paulie.

“Maybe some other time,” he said.

The nurse caught the direction of his interest. Her smile turned cheeky. “Pilots. They have all the fun. Take care, soldier.” She landed a new partner before reaching the edge of the floor.

Joe weaved his way through the dancers as “Jeepers Creepers” began to play. Lulu was just accepting a drink from a dark-haired RAF captain. They looked good together—His Majesty’s loyal subjects ready to sacrifice everything to safeguard their kingdom. So good, in fact, that Joe nearly talked himself out of speaking to her. He could take a hint. If the risk of getting to know a soldier was one she didn’t want to take, then he could hardly change her mind.

Hell, he almost didn’t want to. Waiting on news from a friend would make her just like those riflemen who, after McIntosh’s accident, had stood around dumbstruck and anxious. Waiting on news sounded like a vile curse.

Then he remembered her kiss. And he remembered being stuck in Plainfield, when he hadn’t seen a smiling female face for three years, let alone had the opportunity to kiss one. Lulu made him bold. The recklessness she wore like her uniform gave him a taste for what it was to be free—not just out of detention, but really
free
.

Joe tapped her on the shoulder. “Dance with me?”

Expressions scattered across her face: surprise, happiness, a flash of fear. Then . . . nothing.

“No.”

“C’mon, Lulu. Be serious. Dance with me.”

“I said no.”

“Just like that?” The blood in his ears wouldn’t be quiet. “Just like that and we’re nothing? How can you do that?”

The handsome RAF captain pushed hard on Joe’s chest. “The lady said no, Yank. I suggest you pay attention.”

Joe looked to Lulu once more, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She kept herself hidden behind her flygirl posturing, like a glass box he wanted to bust so as to snatch the treasure hidden inside. Only he couldn’t, because then something strange and beautiful would be broken.

His movements stiff, he turned away from the couple. He’d leave her to it. She was out for a good time, and who could blame her? He had been, too, on that night when they’d officially met. It wasn’t her fault that she had him thinking beyond dances and drinks.

Maybe that was it. He wasn’t one to kid himself about what he wanted. One day, once he was done with fighting, he wanted to own a garage where he could repair cars—beauties like Studebakers and Oldsmobiles. He’d already completed a year as a mechanic’s apprentice before signing up with the army. After another year or two he could begin again in a city where no one knew his past. He’d find a good woman to keep him fed and happy, to help raise their kids, to kiss him first thing every morning and last thing every night.

Joe had cultivated that private future during his years of incarceration, and then throughout his long months of training for the paratroops. His imaginings would probably become even more elaborate once he hit the front lines.

Thinking of the dark clouds to come put his problems in perspective. Heart beating hard in his chest, he pushed back through the crowd toward Lulu and her smug date.

Even knowing he’d hate himself when she shot him down again, Joe couldn’t leave it alone. He wanted a dance. That was it. After all, Lulu and her daring didn’t fit into his perfect future. She never would.

The RAF captain looked about ready to deck him. “Yank, I said—”

“Look, this isn’t anything,” he said to Lulu, ignoring her scowling partner. “It isn’t even one night. It’s just a dance. Lulu, I know how much you want to dance.” He hooked a thumb toward the captain. “This Limey’s just going to jabber your ear off.”

Her lips quirked toward a smile. “Very well. The last dance.”