eyes were the same colour as her father, Gavin’s. Only of course Gavin had not fathered her at all, even if she called him Daddy and the two of them adored one another. Charlie had fathered her. Charlie, whom Lena had so naïvely and foolishly believed loved her and had meant what he had said when he had promised to marry her.
How silly she had been giving her heart and her body so immediately to Charlie. She was much wiser now, and with this new baby on the way she had everything she could possibly want.
So why did the fact that Charlie was coming home make her feel so restless and…on edge? A sudden flurry of kicks from the baby punished her for her thoughts and reminded her of where her duty lay. She was so lucky to have what she did, Lena told herself. So very lucky.
Katie enjoyed her voluntary work at the American Red Cross’s home from home for the American military at Rainbow Corner in Leicester Square, although she had to admit that it could be very demanding, especially on evenings like this one, when she was running late. She’d earned herself a disapproving look from the senior voluntary worker in charge on the reception area as she’d hurried in and made a dash for the cloakroom, where she’d removed her blue blazer and her neat white hat with its navy-blue bow trimming.
There’d be no chance of begging five minutes to snatch a hot drink and something to eat, Katie thought ruefully, quickly dabbing Max Factor powder onto her nose and then applying a fresh coat of pink lipstick, before combing her soft dark gold curls. Working at the Postal Censorship Office did not require her to wear a uniform, and the warmth of the September sunshine had meant that she had gone to work this morning wearing a neat white blouse under her precious ‘good’ blazer, and a red skirt with a pattern of white daisies on it, not really thinking about the significance of the colours until a small group of British Army high-ups had passed her when she left work, one of them commenting approvingly, ‘Red, white and blue, eh? Jolly good show, young lady. That’s the spirit.’
It was almost miraculous how things had changed since El Alamein and the Allies’ success. The air of tension and anxiety that had filled London’s streets like the dust from its bombed-out buildings had begun to lift, to be replaced by a sense of energy and optimism. The years of sacrifice, both in terms of human life and going without, of having faith and holding strong, were finally beginning to pay off. You could see it in the pride with which everyone was beginning to hold themselves, especially those in uniform, even if the shadow of Dunkirk and all the losses that had followed it were still there.
Victory – it was so close that you could almost taste it, almost…inside your thoughts, in your conversations with others, but it wasn’t real yet, and there were still hundreds, thousands, perhaps, of young men who would have to sacrifice their lives before it could be achieved.
Some of those young men would be those who were here tonight in the Rainbow Club, Katie knew: eager, enthusiastic, brash young Americans, come to show the Brits how to win a war and not in the least abashed about saying so either.
They didn’t mean any harm, not really. They just didn’t realise the effect their well-fed, smartly turned-out appearance had on a nation that had undergone four years of warfare and rationing. And it wasn’t just Britain’s armed forces that some Americans seemed to look down on. There had been more than one occasion on which Katie’s face had burned with indignation and anger over the way she had heard American servicemen describing British girls, although to be fair she had to admit that the behaviour of some girls did leave a lot to be desired.
At night the streets round Piccadilly were filled with girls offering GIs ‘a good time’; couples openly having sex in doorways and whatever dark corner they could find, with the result that used condoms littered the streets, whilst, according to the authorities, venereal diseases were on the rise.
All this was to be deplored, and it was strictly forbidden for the young women who were judged suitable to work at Rainbow Corner to get involved in relationships with the Americans they met there.
Of course, there were girls who broke that rule, although Katie wasn’t one of them. Not that the young GIs hadn’t tried to date her – they had. Katie, though, always refused. She didn’t want to get involved – with anyone.
A sudden influx of young airmen brought an end to her introspection.
‘Boy, oh boy, it smells good in here,’ one of them remarked enthusiastically, breathing in appreciatively. ‘Coffee, doughnuts and hamburgers, Home sweet American Home.’
They’d arrived on one of the special trains put on to ferry American servicemen from their bases into London for their weekends off, and they were keen to let Katie know how they planned to spend their weekend.
‘Girls, girls and more girls – that’s what we want, isn’t it, guys?’ the one who was obviously the leader informed Katie, looking round at the others.
‘Sure is,’ they agreed in unison.
‘I’m afraid we can’t help you there,’ Katie responded lightly, ‘but if you’d like a map of London, or directions to anywhere…’
‘Yeah, we’ll have some directions to the nearest cat house,’ one of the men grinned.
Katie suspected that they’d already been drinking, but she didn’t really want to get them into trouble by calling for assistance. American GIs were meant to respect Rainbow Corner as though it were their home and occupied by their mother.
‘Why don’t you boys go and get yourselves a Coke and make yourselves at home?’ Katie suggested.
‘That ain’t what we’ve got in mind,’ drawled the one who had first spoken, leaning on the counter, breathing alcohol fumes in Katie’s direction, while the others gathered round him. ‘How about obliging us yourself? We don’t mind taking it in turns, do we, guys?’
Some more men had walked in and had obviously overheard the comment. One of them – an officer, Katie guessed from the insignia on his uniform – walked over to the desk with a grim expression and announced curtly, ‘We don’t treat the kind folks, who are good enough to give up their free time to make us welcome, like that, Soldier, and I suggest you apologise to the lady right now, otherwise I’m gonna be calling the MPs.’
One look at the officer had an immediate sobering effect on the small group.
‘Yessss, sir,’ the culprit stammered as he stood up straight and saluted, a shamed-faced, ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ crossing the desk, before, to Katie’s relief, the young men disappeared at some speed, into the club.
‘Thank you for that,’ she told her rescuer.
He shook his head, his mouth tightening into a grim line.
‘You shouldn’t have had to thank me,’ he told her bluntly. ‘Do you get much of that kind of behaviour?’
‘No,’ Katie told him truthfully.
‘I’m afraid that some of these young idiots try to treat this country as though they’re an invading force, not its ally,’ the officer commented.
Katie smiled but didn’t say anything. What he had said was, after all, true.
A younger officer came hurrying in saluting her rescuer.
‘The general’s car has arrived, sir.’
‘I’ll be right
