On a Wing and a Prayer. Ruby Jackson
with it, one white and the other blue. She smiled as she remembered her disappointment that Stan had not taken her dancing in it.
Must have hurt my pride and not my heart, she decided, but she was quietly glad that she and Stan were still friends.
She looked over at Vera, who had changed out of her uniform into a simple blouse and skirt.
‘Come on, girls,’ said Ella. ‘Destiny awaits.’
‘Let’s hope he’s tall, dark and handsome, with no spots,’ said Ada, and the unmarried girls shrieked in pretended horror.
The gym was already crowded when the women got there, and the noise from the band and conversations being conducted at a volume guaranteed to defeat the musicians was almost deafening, sure proof that the evening was going well. There was no time to look for a table as each girl was whisked onto the floor almost before she had removed her coat. It was only after some time that a breathless Rose saw that Vera was not dancing and was sitting alone at a table. Rose excused herself from her over-eager partner and joined her roommate.
‘You’re too pretty not to have been asked to dance, Vera. May I ask why you’re not up on the floor?’
Vera looked at her with suspiciously moist eyes and tried to smile. ‘Scruples, I suppose, Rose, and I am enjoying the music and watching all the dancers, really.’
‘I have scruples too, Vera. Bet you ten bob almost every person in the room has some.’
‘But they’re not all engaged – well, almost engaged – to a prisoner of war.’
‘A dance is just a dance, nothing more, and I’m sure that if we asked we’d find there’s someone bravely dancing here who is married to a prisoner of war.’
Vera sniffed. ‘You don’t understand. You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be waiting for someone. I promised James, I shouldn’t be here enjoying myself while who-knows-what’s happening to him.’
She stood up as if preparing to leave, but Rose touched her hand. ‘Sit down for a minute, Vera, and we can have a beer or some cider. Look, there’s a friend of mine, Chrissy Wade. She’ll go to the bar for us.’
Since Vera seemed to accept this, Rose waved frantically at Chrissy, who saw her, gave a happy smile and made her way over to join them.
‘Hello, this is fun, isn’t it? That music makes me feel as young as you two.’
Rose introduced Vera and asked Chrissy if she would mind standing in the line to get drinks for all three of them while she and Vera had a private conversation. Chrissy was happy to help and, when she had gone, Rose turned again to Vera. ‘You said “almost engaged”. So you’re not engaged to your prisoner of war but you love him and he loves you?’
‘I think so.’
Now what? Rose felt totally inadequate. Was this what Stan had meant when he said she spoke like a man? Did that mean she also thought like one, for she could not think of a single thing to say to cheer up the other girl. As always in times of stress, she found herself taking a deep breath. ‘Vera, you don’t think you love him?’
‘That’s what’s so awful. I know I don’t love him – if loving means going all soft inside like when I see Jimmy Stewart at the pictures. I never get like that with James, but we’ve been paired off for years and he enlisted when he was seventeen and begged me to save myself for him and I promised, and I think that means I shouldn’t want to dance with other men, especially since poor James is in a POW camp. He’s only twenty and that’s so sad. You have no idea.’
Rose was delighted to see Chrissy making her wary way across the dance floor.
When they were sitting, glasses in hands, and had taken at least one sip, Rose said, ‘Chrissy, how old is your Alan?’
Chrissy did not answer immediately; it was almost as if she had to try to remember. ‘Hard to believe he’s twenty,’ she said at last.
‘About your James’s age, Vera,’ pointed out Rose as she turned back again to Chrissy. ‘Does he have a girl?’
‘No, and where’s he supposed to meet one on a troop ship or in the desert, I do not know.’
‘He could have our Vera here. She’s got a lad that doesn’t want her to have any fun while he’s deployed. And it’s worse now,’ she added quickly, as she could see anger sparkling in Vera’s eyes, ‘because he’s a POW.’
As soon as she spoke, Rose knew that Vera did not understand her meaning. She had wanted to explain that Vera was determined to make life as pleasant as possible for her own beloved prisoner of war, wanted to assure him that she was true to him.
But Vera was standing, her face rigid with anger. ‘I did not say that, Rose Petrie. I said he wanted me to keep myself for him, and he’s ever so brave. He was a dispatch rider and got caught by a patrol and now he’s a prisoner of war.’
‘Then I’m sure he wants you to be dancing with a nice lad, Vera, instead of sitting here talking to Rose and me,’ said Chrissy gently. She looked around the room. ‘Like that one with the ginger hair over there,’ she said in a tone loud enough for the soldier to hear. ‘Honestly, Vera, if your James loves you, he knows a dance is just a dance. You’re not marrying the chap.’
‘Well, well, well, am I in luck? Three lovely ladies all by themselves.’ The tall, ginger-haired soldier smiled, walked over to the table, said, ‘May I?’ and without waiting for a reply, sat down. ‘Corporal Terry Webster,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ Vera began bravely. ‘I had a chum at school called Terry.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ said the soldier, holding his hand out as if to brush away Vera’s words. ‘Bet she was a saintly girl whose name was Theresa. Am I right?’ He laughed.
His laugh was pleasant. Rose looked across the table and smiled at him. Corporal Webster was a few inches taller than she was, and the width of his shoulders told of the strength in those long arms.
‘And, Viking Princess, my hair is not, as your lovely friend said, ginger. It’s called châtain clair, translating, for those who don’t parlez-vous, as clear chestnut.’
‘Much nicer than ginger,’ agreed Rose, who was surprised to find herself drawn to the young man, so different from any of the other young men she knew. He was at ease and friendly, confident but not overwhelming, and there was more than a hint of sophistication about him. In the same situation, Stan would have been tongue-tied. She smiled as she thought of her old friend. ‘And do you parlez-vous, Corporal?’
‘Terry, please, and let’s just say I wouldn’t go thirsty in Paris.’
‘Glad to hear that. Now this is Chrissy, and this is Vera.’
‘And I’m Ada,’ said another voice, and Ada appeared from the direction of the bar, obviously ready to chat to a handsome young man. ‘Now, if you haven’t had time, tell us all about yourself.’
Terry smiled at her out of startlingly green eyes. ‘I’d rather hear all about you.’
‘Behave yourself,’ said Rose, forgetting for a moment that he was not one of her brothers.
He laughed and called over some friends. The rest of the girls joined them and the evening went with a swing. Everyone danced, including Vera, who, after a few minutes of arguing with her conscience, relaxed and began to enjoy the evening.
‘I’ll write to James,’ she told Rose. ‘It’s only talking to other men and dancing, but all my friends are here too, aren’t they?’
She looked so worried that Rose reassured her.
She wrote to her sister Daisy later that night expressing her doubts.
It’s none of my business, of course, Daisy, but the poor little thing doesn’t seem to know if she loves him or not. She’s promised to