Our Yanks (18 page)

He grinned. This was something he could handle. ‘It's great, kid. Just great!' They wanted to know all about how fast the P-38 could go, how high it could climb, how many guns it had . . . He had fun telling them.

‘Have you killed any Germans, sir?' That was Michael again, who'd wanted to know about the Indians.

‘Well, I've shot down one of their fighters. An Me 109. Don't know exactly what happened to the guy in it but he didn't bail out.'

They looked real pleased and impressed, even the girls. Bloodthirsty little monsters, he thought, amused. He looked at his wristwatch. ‘OK, kids, I'm winding this up now. Before I go, though, I want to tell you something. America's not like you see it in the movies. It's not all about cowboys and Indians, and gangsters and film stars. Sure, we have rich people with big cars, living in wonderful houses, and we have the bad guys, too. But there's a whole lot of ordinary folk over there, living ordinary lives.' He looked round the classroom; they were all watching him and listening. ‘It's a great big country – bigger than you kids can imagine. You could fit the whole of the British Isles into it hundreds of times over. People have gone to live there from other countries because there's a whole lot of space out there for them. Because they want to build new lives. Maybe they go to get rich – because there's lots of opportunity for everybody to do just that. Maybe to get away from others treating them badly. Maybe to get happy. But I guess, most of all, people go there because it's a free country – just like yours. That's why we've got that great big Statue of Liberty at the entrance to New York harbour. Britain and America both believe in people being free . . . and that's why us Yanks are over here now to give you a hand, fighting the people who want to take that freedom away from us.'

Mr Squeers made a speech of thanks and the kids all clapped hard, so maybe he hadn't done such a bad job. Another teacher, a middle-aged woman dressed in green tweeds, came up to thank him as well. He thought he remembered her from the Welcome Party.

‘I know you must be getting back, Lieutenant, but I wonder if you could spare a few moments to say hello to our kindergarten class? They know that you're here and I think they might be feeling a little left out of things.'

‘Sure.'

He'd seen the room from the outside before, when he'd been taking a peek at the girl through the window. And there she was with all the little kids gathered round her skirts.

‘This is Miss Dawe, our kindergarten teacher, Lieutenant.'

‘Yeah, we've already met.'

He nodded to her and to the children. ‘Hallo, there. You going to tell me your names?'

They did, with a bit of prompting from teacher. George, Susan, Wilfred, Joan, Peter . . . all ever-so-English names. He got them to show him their Nature Table and admired the dried leaves and bits of moss, the acorns, the fir cones, the collection of empty snailshells, the nuts, the bird's nest and the magpie's feather. Then they took him to see the rabbit and the guinea pigs in their hutches so he could admire those too. After that, he sat down in teacher's chair and took Joan, one of the smallest, on his knee and set his American officer's cap on her head, at a rakish angle. They all went into fits of giggles and wanted to try it on as well, so it was passed round from kid to kid while they doubled up with laughter.

‘You kids know any American songs?'

They shook their heads, fingers in mouths.

‘OK. How about trying this one.' He bounced the little girl up and down on one knee while he sang:

They giggled even louder and he sang it again for them. ‘Come on, kids, it's easy. Let's go. All together now. One, two three.' In the end they were shouting it out with him.

‘Time for me to leave,' he told them and swung little Joan off his knee. ‘Down you get, sweetheart.'

She giggled some more and turned to teacher. ‘Please, Miss, is he one of
our
Yanks?'

He got a kick out of that:
our
Yanks.

‘Is he, Miss?'

Miss was blushing and avoiding his eye. ‘Yes, Joan. He's one of ours.'

‘We're not going, Cicily. Couldn't possibly. Not after what's happened.'

She looked up from her library book. ‘Whatever are you talking about, Lionel?'

He brandished the card at her. ‘This thing came in the afternoon post. From the Americans. Invitation to some sort of “do”. We're not going.'

‘But I thought . . . after the dinner at the Manor . . .'

He produced the envelope and thrust it under her nose. ‘Look at that! Confounded nerve!'

‘What's wrong with it?'

He stabbed furiously with his finger. ‘Put the stamp on upside down, that's what's wrong with it. Insult to the King.'

‘Oh, Lionel, I'm sure they didn't mean anything like that. It wasn't on purpose. It was just a silly mistake.'

‘All very well to say that. How would they like it if I stuck their President upside down?'

‘Perhaps they don't have Mr Roosevelt on their stamps.'

‘No excuse. We're not going.'

‘Very well, dear.' She was looking jolly down in the mouth about it, though he couldn't imagine why. ‘Only the group commander will be very disappointed. He particularly wanted you to keep him informed, didn't he? To let him know of any complaints. You agreed to do that.'

‘Huh.'

‘So it would be a bit awkward to refuse the invitation. Rather rude. Still, as you say, perhaps we ought not to go, if you feel so strongly.' She picked up her book again. ‘I don't expect they did that with
all
the stamps, so everyone else will be going. I hear they serve wonderful food and drink . . . whisky and all sorts of things.'

The brigadier cleared his throat noisily and walked about the room, pausing to stare out of the window at the early crocuses under the tree at the far end of the lawn. Not as many as there should be. Those damned squirrels ate everything. He'd've shot the buggers long ago if he hadn't had to save the ammunition for shooting the bloody Germans. Cicily had a point. That Yank CO had asked his help. Ought not to let the fellow down. Matter of honour between officers. The chap had his hands full, running the whole show up the road and fighting the war at the same time. Getting in an aeroplane and going out to shoot those damned Jerries down himself, not just sitting around behind some desk. Had to admire that. He cleared his throat again. ‘I'll think about it.'

She turned a page. ‘Very well, dear.'

Coaches had been sent into the village to pick up all the guests. Not ancient, clapped-out old things like the Skegness charabanc, Erika noted, but modern, comfortable, clean, well-sprung, smooth-running vehicles. Miriam, who maintained that she had never been in a bus of any kind before, was grudging about it.

‘Well, they wouldn't expect us to walk, I hope. And there's only one taxi in the village.'

‘They might have sent a lorry.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Erika.'

‘That's what they do for the girls going to their dances.'

‘
Hardly
the same situation. I think the way those girls allow themselves to be transported as though they were cattle is scandalous. Have they no pride? No shame?'

‘They like the Yanks.'

‘I can't think why.'

‘I can. They're glamorous and good fun. They've got money to spend and they know how to treat women – from what I've seen.'

‘Really, Erika, you'll be getting into one of those dreadful cattle lorries yourself next.'

The American Officers' Club was sited in a wood on the opposite side of the road to the operational part of the airfield. Inside, it looked as though it must have undergone a big transformation from its scruffy RAF days. This was America transported to England, Erika thought, looking at the well-stocked chrome bar, the non-utility furnishings and the Stars and Stripes prominently on display. At least as well as they could manage. And it was warm. Extraordinary to stand in a large room without a shiver; not to feel a single icy draught whistling down one's neck.

And their hosts were taking great pains to be friendly. The drinks were flowing – whisky, gin, vodka, sherry, whatever anybody wanted. Colonel Schrader and his officers circulated diplomatically and everybody was being very polite to everybody else. When he came round to her, she thanked him for the flowers and the chocolates and sweets.

‘Wherever did you find such beautiful flowers in the middle of winter?'

He smiled. ‘That's a state secret, Lady Beauchamp. I'm not at liberty to reveal it.'

‘Well, I loved them. And Alex was thrilled with his sweets. It was so kind of you.'

‘It was very kind of you to give that dinner. I wonder where
you
found enough chicken to feed us all.'

‘Ah, that's
my
secret.'

He offered her a cigarette and lit it for her. ‘How do you think the party's going, so far?'

‘Are the natives thawing out, you mean?' She looked round the room. ‘Yes, I think so. Definitely. Literally and figuratively. The brigadier is looking almost jovial. How on earth did you achieve that?'

‘An unlimited supply of Scotch.'

‘A brilliant tactical move.'

‘I thought it might help oil the wheels. We've laid on a pretty good supper and then some dancing afterwards to our band.'

She raised her double vodka and tonic to him. ‘God bless America, Colonel. I'm sure the evening will be a great success.'

Agnes saw Lieutenant Mochetti the moment she entered the Club room with her father. He was standing with another officer whom she remembered seeing before at the village hall – the one with the pencil moustache and the leer. She looked away quickly. If Miss Skinner hadn't insisted on it, she would have refused the invitation. But the importance of all three teachers attending had been pointed out to her forcefully by the deputy head. The Americans had taken the trouble to send an officer to the school, therefore there was an obligation to reciprocate the goodwill gesture by going to their reception.

‘Something to drink, Miss?' An orderly held a tray of drinks out to her. She grabbed the nearest glass and found, too late, that it was gin. And a strong gin, at that. A group of officers came up and introduced themselves and she found herself surrounded. They were from all over the United States: Maine, Kentucky, Maryland, Illinois, Kansas . . . and they charmed her with their smiles and their easy talking and joking. Another gin later, they escorted her to supper, shepherding her gallantly between them into a room where long, white-clothed tables were laden with kinds of food that she hadn't seen for years, some of them never. And there was wine to go with it all.

After supper she danced with Maine and Maryland and Illinois and Kansas, one after the other, and the band was as good as anything she'd ever heard on the wireless. Actually, it was much better. And the Americans all danced better than anybody she'd ever danced with. She finished a spinning quickstep, expecting Kentucky to be waiting, and found New York instead.

‘Hallo, Miss.'

She knew she'd started blushing, but she couldn't help it. He always had that ridiculous effect on her; it was the very reason why she hadn't wanted to come. ‘The children enjoyed your visit very much,' she said, mindful of Miss Skinner. ‘Especially the song. They've been singing it ever since.' It was true: they had. He'd been a huge success.

‘I enjoyed
them
. They're terrific kids. How about a dance?'

She could hardly say no and he took her in his arms, holding her close. Much closer than the others had. It was a beautiful tune they were playing. ‘Your band's awfully good.'

‘Sure is. I told you so, remember? I guess you didn't believe me.'

Over his shoulder, she could see Kentucky signalling to her hopefully but Lieutenant Mochetti kept her for the next dance and the one after that. At the end of it he asked her to go out with him.

She shook her head. ‘I'm sorry but I can't.'

‘There a problem?'

‘I'm engaged to be married.'

‘Yeah, I know. Is that the only reason?'

‘Well, it's quite a good one.'

‘It's a lousy one. There's no law against you having dinner with another guy when you're engaged, far as I know. Or maybe there is in old England?'

‘No, of course there isn't.'

‘And I owe you for the bubble and squeak.'

‘You hated it.'

‘Matter of fact, I didn't. It was great. Besides, we're under orders.'

‘Orders?'

‘Direct from Colonel Schrader. The big boss. We've got to be very, very nice to you villagers so we all get along a whole lot better. That's what he says. So, I'm trying to be very, very nice to you and give you dinner, that's all.' He looked her in the eyes. ‘Just carrying out my orders, see.'

In the coach going home, Miriam said, ‘Colonel Schrader plays bridge, you know.'

‘Does he?'

‘Yes, I was quite surprised. I suggested he came over one evening and we could make up a four with Brigadier Mapperton.'

‘I'm not sure my bridge is up to it.'

‘Nonsense, Erika. It's better than Richard's ever was.'

‘I doubt if Colonel Schrader will have much spare time for playing cards.'

‘Well, he seemed to think it was an excellent idea. I must admit this evening wasn't nearly as bad as I expected.' For Miriam to admit anything of the kind meant that she had positively relished it. ‘Of course, they get all sorts of things wrong, but one mustn't be too critical. They can't help it.'