soldier nodded. ‘You got good friends. I’m glad, cos I wouldn’t want no harm to come to you.’ He reached into his uniform pocket and brought out a small notebook and pencil. ‘Can I write to you, Peggy? Will you write to me? I’ll put down my address here, so you don’t forget me. The name’s James, in case that’s slipped your mind already.’
‘I don’t …’ Peggy was going to protest that there was no point, they’d had a fun evening and that was that, but then she asked herself what harm could it do? Maybe he would come through London again. He might be one of the lucky ones. ‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Here, give me that, I’ll write it down.’ She hastily scribbled down the address of the house in which she lived with Pete’s mother, wondering if it was a betrayal of her late husband.
‘I’ll be sure to take good care of it,’ James assured her, tucking the notebook back into his pocket. ‘You do the same, now.’ His eyes flashed with good humour.
‘Peggy, come on!’ Clarrie was losing patience.
‘I’d better go.’ Peggy felt rooted to the spot. The noise of the crowds seemed like miles away; even the irritated sound of her best friend couldn’t pierce the shell around the pair of them.
‘Be seeing you,’ said James lightly, but in such a way that she knew he meant it. ‘I hope so anyway. So long now.’
‘So long.’ Peggy took a step away, raising her hand in a silly wave. She watched him turn and rejoin his friends, then was conscious of Clarrie tugging on her arm, and the spell was broken. ‘Yes, yes, coming, don’t fuss.’
The three young women hurried from the dance hall, along with scores of others, many in uniform, all buzzing from their night out. The bus stop was only a short distance away and, judging from the number of people there already, one must be due any moment.
‘Thank God for that, I hate waiting around in the cold after going dancing,’ grumbled Clarrie.
‘I know what you mean,’ Peggy muttered absently, her thoughts elsewhere.
‘Yes, you got quite overheated there,’ Clarrie said, raising her eyebrows.
‘Stop it. I was only having a bit of fun. You were dancing with plenty of men yourself – in fact the pair of you were.’ Peggy felt around for the small page from the notebook in her pocket.
Belinda chuckled. ‘Well, that’s why we came out, isn’t it? There were a few decent dancers there. Most of them a bit short for me, though. I don’t think I’ll ever find a man tall enough.’
‘What’s that game they play over there? Basketball, isn’t it? You need a basketball player,’ Clarrie said with certainty. ‘Look, isn’t that our bus? Quick, head for the top deck.’
Swiftly they climbed onto the bus and up the stairs, finding three seats together at the back.
‘What was that last song you were dancing to?’ Clarrie demanded, her eyes sharp as she observed Peggy’s response.
Peggy looked down at her hands. ‘“Whispering Grass”,’ she said slowly.
‘That’s by the Ink Spots, isn’t it? Your favourites.’
‘That’s right.’ Peggy’s mouth curved in a slight smile. They were her favourite singers and that was their best song. She’d never had the chance to dance to it with Pete but had often imagined doing so. She stared out of the window at the dim shapes just visible in the blackout and hummed the tune to herself, oblivious to Belinda and Clarrie’s teasing. They could say what they liked. This had been an evening to remember.
April 1942
‘I should have guessed this is where you’d be if you weren’t at the home.’
Alice pushed back the sleeves of her old jumper with muddy hands and squinted into the springtime sunshine, unable to properly make out the figure who called to her from the cracked pavement. But she knew that voice, despite not having heard it for far too long.
‘Joe! You’re back! You’re here! Why didn’t you say you had leave?’ She rushed across the vegetable beds of the victory garden and up the little slope that marked the boundary. Then she stopped short. ‘But … you’re injured.’ She took a breath. ‘What happened? Should you be here – haven’t they told you to rest?’ Anxiety creased her forehead as she reached to touch his arm, but then dropped her hand as she realised it was covered in earth. All the same her instinct was to stretch out and make contact, to convince herself that he really was there, and not a figment of her imagination. He was rarely far from her mind, even if there was nothing she could do to ensure his safety.
‘I’m on the mend, don’t worry.’ Joe automatically glanced down at the cast around his left leg, and gripped more tightly onto his walking stick. He hoped what he said was true and that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself by stumbling. Then he looked up again and met Alice’s concerned gaze and smiled broadly. ‘Honestly, I’m all right. I’m much better. It’s just a broken leg and they say it’s going to be fine.’
Alice frowned. Trust Joe to make light of it. She didn’t want to panic him but he must be in pain, and that cut her to the quick. ‘Shouldn’t you at least be on crutches? I’m not sure that a stick—’
‘Alice, don’t worry,’ Joe said hastily. That was the trouble with nurses. They never stopped doing their job. ‘I’ve been on crutches for weeks and I’m sick of them. They get in the way. People fall over them. I’d never have managed on a crowded train. Whereas with a stick, I can get around more easily and yet still get a seat. Works wonders, being a wounded sailor. You should try it.’ His eyes danced with merriment.
‘Maybe I will.’ She grinned, more relieved to see him than she cared to admit, a little more reassured now that he didn’t seem to be in agony. ‘Do you need to sit down now? We have some wooden boxes somewhere …’
Joe looked at the slope and the uneven ground beyond and shook his head. ‘No, and I can’t stay long. I just wanted to see how you were and to find out if you have plans for tomorrow.’
Alice took in how his appearance had changed since she last saw him. He had lost a little weight, she thought, although he was still tall and muscular, but he’d acquired more lines on his face. She could guess that he had indeed been in considerable pain recently. ‘Some of us thought we’d go to the special Easter service at church in the morning. Then maybe a walk, if it stays fine.’ She paused. She didn’t want to dig up bad memories but she had to know. He was too important to her. ‘Go on, tell me, put me out of my misery. How did it happen?’
Joe sighed. ‘All right. We were part of a convoy across the Atlantic and we got hit by a U-boat. I was lucky, I got out with only a broken leg – well, and a few cuts and bruises. Some of my crewmates died.’ She gasped in horror and he hastily continued. ‘We weren’t in the water for long, we got rescued by an American ship, it could have been far worse.’ He looked away, unable to watch her face as she took it in. He didn’t want to see her distress. ‘Then we got brought back to port and I’ve been laid up ever since.’
‘Joe …’ She rested her hand on his arm, regardless of the mud. She struggled to find words to encompass
