‘Mrs Teague, I have no intention of doing that. Anyway, I’m still not qualified so they wouldn’t have me yet.’
April’s first stop was the butcher, where, as usual, there was a long queue of women waiting patiently to pick up their rations. April took up position beside a young woman who was clearly pregnant.
‘Mornin’,’ she said to April.
April smiled in return.
‘Aren’t you Mrs Teague’s nurse that she’s always going on about? It’s all “April this” and “April that”. I’m Mrs Dashell, by the way.’
‘Oh goodness, does she? I am sorry. Yes, I’m April. I’m just picking up her groceries for her.’
The other woman smiled. ‘Well, I’m happy to meet you at last. Listen, what do you think about all these American soldiers? Are you treating any at the hospital?’
‘No, I keep hearing about them, but I haven’t seen any yet.’
‘Well, my dad says that they’re setting up tents all over the place, and there’ll be even more here soon. He says they send in ordinary G.I.s to do all the hard work like fencing, roads and setting up tents. Then the officers come in and live like kings.’
‘Sounds like my old man’s stories of the last war,’ said a sour-looking older woman standing in front of Mrs Dashell. ‘And anyway, where have they been for the past two years while we’ve been dodging bombs?’ She snorted. ‘Safe at home feasting on beef, that’s where.’
‘Still, they’re here now, and they’re going to help us.’
‘Huh. They took their time.’
‘Don’t forget they’ve already been helping us, what with sending food and all kinds of goods for years, and getting their ships and their men sunk doing it. My Peter was telling me all about it last time he was home.’ Mrs Dashell rubbed her stomach dreamily, as if remembering a happy time.
‘All I can say is no Yank is coming anywhere near my daughter. They’re soldiers, too far from home and with too much money. I’ve heard some terrible stories from my sister in London.’
By this time, the older woman had reached the front of the queue and Mr Hughes, the butcher, had overheard the conversation.
‘You talking about the Yanks? There’s a load of them up in the woods by Pencalenick House. Was up there with the wife the other Sunday and there were fences with signs saying “Restricted Area. No entry”. I mean, whose country is it?’
‘Perhaps the owners wanted to keep out the Americans, not the locals,’ said Mrs Dashell.
‘No, we heard music, that jazz. I don’t think many of the locals would have been playing jazz, do you?’
‘Jazz?’ said April, interested despite herself.
‘Yes, and we could see some tents, large ones, and huge piles of wood and even metal strips. And then an American voice said, “Please move away from the fence, sir, madam. This is a restricted area.” He was polite, I’ll give him that, so we moved. But I’ll tell you one other thing: the polite soldier was coloured.’ He shook his head. ‘Never seen a coloured man before ’cept in the films. Still, no different from the rest of us, I imagine.’
*
April told Mrs Teague about the conversation over their supper of cottage pie.
‘Good heavens.’ Mrs Teague put down her fork in astonishment. ‘Do you mean to say they’re all just camping out like vagabonds?’
‘I have no idea. Bess is constantly going on about some handsome officer she met, and I doubt he’s camping. She’s completely obsessed with the lot of them, though.’
‘Hmm. “The friendly invasion”, the papers are calling it. But why aren’t they abroad fighting next to our soldiers? Are they expecting to find Nazis hiding on the beach? I just can’t understand any of it, really, I can’t. But we must trust in Churchill and Mr Roosevelt – funny old name, that is – as I suppose they know what they’re doing.’
April smiled. Mrs Teague did make her laugh sometimes. Every day, she found herself growing more and more fond of her. ‘I’m sure they do. And everyone is saying that with the help of the Americans we can win this war. Who knows? Maybe it will all be over by this time next year.’
‘Oh, I do hope so. I didn’t tell you, but the reason I’m so blue today, April, dear, apart from all the terrible news, is that I saw Mrs Green in town yesterday, and oh, it broke my heart. Her boy, Alfred, has been killed in action. He used to deliver the papers and I always gave him sweets on a Saturday. Such a lovely boy.’ As always, when Mrs Teague thought about soldiers being killed, silent tears started to make their way down her cheeks.
April went and sat on the edge of her chair and put an arm around her. ‘It’s so dreadful, Mrs Teague, I know. Let me get you a little tot of brandy, what do you say? I know you have some stashed away for emergencies. Or would you prefer some cocoa?’
‘You are a dear girl, April. I’m so glad you came to live with me. Just a small brandy. And then I will take myself off to bed for a nap.’
‘How about on my day off next week, we go into town, and maybe we can have tea and cake in the Bluebell. Cheer you up a bit. What do you say?”
‘Wonderful, April, I would love that.’
‘That’s settled then. I’ll just go and get your brandy, and let you rest.’
*
Over the next couple of days, April still hadn’t seen an American soldier. Then, one morning, on her way to the hospital, she heard a loud roar and beeping behind her, and jumped back quickly as an American truck sped by. The men whistled and waved at her as they passed, and April couldn’t help blushing and smiling back.
She told the others about it as soon as she saw them. ‘I wonder where they were going?’ she said.
‘Well, I might have some idea,’ said a smug Bess.
Mattie glanced at Bess disbelievingly. ‘You going to tell us you’re engaged to one of them already, Bess?’ She rolled her eyes.
Bess bristled. ‘No, but I am going to tell you that I had dinner with the handsome officer I told you about the other day. You know, the one that looks a bit like Jimmy Stewart.’
‘Oh, did you now?’ Mattie clearly didn’t believe her, having heard far too many of Bess’s exaggerated stories before.
‘I did, as it happens. I was just walking down the street, and he stopped and asked if there was anywhere he could get some food. Given he looked rich and far too sophisticated for the Bluebell, I suggested he try the Royal. And he only asked me to join him!’
‘Oh, how exciting!’ April was still trying her hardest to keep on the right side of Bess, though sometimes she wasn’t sure why she bothered.
‘It was, and we drank French champagne and ate lobster.’
‘Ha! I believe the lobster, plenty of that around here, but champagne? From a total stranger?’
‘Believe what you want. You’re just jealous.’
‘So what was this incredible officer’s name, then?’
‘His name’s odd. Crawford something. I called him Crawfie.’ Bess smiled slyly. ‘He definitely seemed to like it.’
‘So, when are you seeing him again?’
Bess started to look a little less confident. ‘Well, he’s very busy, you know. But he’s stationed up at Pencalenick House, so I could probably cycle up there one day to visit him. I told him he could find me at the hospital, so I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again very soon.’
‘Oh, yes, it definitely sounds like he can’t wait to see you again. Why, he’s no doubt in the hospital right this moment looking for his beautiful princess.’ Mattie laughed so hard at her own joke that tears came to her eyes.
Bess looked at her with dislike, then scraped her chair back and stormed off.
Eunice, who had just come over, looked at Mattie and April in bemusement.
‘What’s eating her?’
‘Oh, ignore her,’ said Mattie airily. ‘She’s just having one of her fantasies and got cross ’cos I didn’t believe her. Anyway, I have to get on. Mum’s been looking after Angela all night, and I need to take over.’ She gave a tired smi
le, all traces of laughter gone now.
When she’d gone, April turned to Eunice. ‘Poor Mattie, it must be so hard with her husband dead and bringing up her little girl on her own. I wish I could help. Perhaps I’ll offer to babysit for her when I can.’
‘Yes, she’s very brave. I’m sure she’d love to have you babysit, though she doesn’t go out much. Not since poor Paul died. He was in the navy too, you know . . .’ Eunice’s eyes clouded over.
‘Still no news?’ April put her hand over Eunice’s in sympathy.
‘No. I don’t even know where his ship is. Oh, April, I’ve written him so many letters, and for all I know they’re just thrown on a great pile of other letters meant for servicemen who have died. And on top of all that, I’ve not heard from my brother and father for months. Mum’s going spare. I’m really worried about her, living all alone.’
‘Don’t you think if something had happened to his ship, you’d definitely know? Word always gets through one way or another. So don’t invite worry until it knocks on your door, as my father used to say.’
Eunice sighed. ‘I know you’re right. Anyway, what about you? Have you heard from that soldier you mentioned? Theo, wasn’t it?’
In fact, April had written several letters to Theo, as he’d asked, but had heard nothing back. She wasn’t sure whether this was because they hadn’t arrived – the post was slow, and she had no idea where he was – or because he hadn’t written. She hoped it was the former. But despite what he’d said to her, April couldn’t help thinking that Charlotte had probably received lots of letters. She’d never been a jealous type, but he’d destroyed her trust in him, and she was no longer sure what to think. If she’d been on better terms with his mother, she would have written and asked her if she’d heard from him, but she wondered whether Mrs Osborne would even reply to her.
These thoughts made her feel guilty. She should be happy to support any soldier, and whatever had happened in the past was of no consequence in the face of the terrible danger he was in.
April glanced at the watch pinned to her chest. ‘I’ll tell you all about it another day, but now I better go or sister will have me in the laundry all day.’
As she bustled away, she realised how all their conversations seemed to end with one or all of them rushing off to do something else. One day, maybe they could all have lunch, or spend more time with each other rather than snatching moments in the cafeteria.
Oh, well, that was nursing for you, she supposed. Then again, that was war. Nobody’s time was their own any more; they were all pulling together to try to end this beastly conflict.
Chapter 7
The following week, April and Mrs Teague made an early start for the promised outing to town. Mrs Teague had suddenly developed a need to buy some new curtain fabric for the sitting room. April thought her curtains were fine as they were, but Mrs Teague was adamant, and April understood she needed another project to keep herself busy.
‘To tell the truth, April,’ Mrs Teague said as they walked down to the town, ‘I never really liked those curtains; Isaac’s aunt gave them to us as an anniversary gift, and I never had the heart to tell him I found them too gloomy.’
April refrained from asking her why she had kept curtains she disliked once she was alone. Instead she said, ‘Just think what fun we’ll have choosing new ones.’
But if April thought she was exhausted after a long shift at the hospital, shopping for curtains with Mrs Teague put exhaustion into a new category. It soon became apparent that if Mrs Teague wanted new curtains, she would either have to refashion the ones she had, or wait until rationing had ended, and who knew when that might be? But even so, they visited every shop they could find and examined every bolt of material that could be hauled out. None of it was suitable, and it was unlikely there’d be enough even if she had liked it. After almost three hours, April finally said that she would die if she did not have a cup of tea immediately.
The Bluebell was always packed in the mornings and at lunchtime, but by the afternoon one could usually find a comfortable seat at a table set with china cups, saucers and plates, all decorated with dancing bluebells. When they got there, however, they found almost every table had at least two men wearing green uniforms sitting at it.
‘Are they Americans, April?’ Mrs Teague whispered.
One of the men sitting at a table nearby had clearly overheard her. ‘Yes, ma’am, we are,’ said a very tall, young soldier with red hair. He stood up and pointed to the chairs around the table. ‘There’s room right here if you’d care to join us. I’m Red Cooper and this is Phil Taylor.’
April looked quickly at Mrs Teague and then around the room. If they wanted a cup of tea, then they would have to share a table. Perhaps they should just go home.
Mrs Teague, who had been bursting with curiosity about the American soldiers for weeks, hastily spoke before April could decline the invitation.
‘How kind of you. Thank you. I’m Mrs Teague, and this is April Harvey. She’s a nurse, you know.’ She laughed girlishly, and April cringed. ‘How silly I am – how could you know? But now you do. And Red, you say? Goodness, how strange. I suppose that’s a bit like Ginger Rogers being called Ginger . . . But you’re a man, obviously, so not the same.’ She giggled again, while April wondered what on earth to do with her.
Red grinned broadly at her. ‘I never thought of that, Mrs Teague. But you’re right, Red is not my real name. I was christened plain and boring old John, but I prefer Red.’
‘Mrs Teague . . .’ began April.
‘Oh hush, April. Then I shall call you Red too, if you don’t mind.’
‘I should be honoured, Mrs T. Do you mind if I call you Mrs T? A terrible American habit of shortening everything.’
‘Oh, I like it very much. Do you know, I have never met an American before? I’ll sit over there’ – Mrs Teague pointed to the empty chair beside Red – ‘and April, why don’t you sit here where you have a lovely view of the comings and goings.’ She pointed at the seat next to Phil, the quiet soldier who, to be fair, would find it hard to get a word in edgeways with her landlady around.
Once they were settled, April examined Red. He must be well over six foot, she considered, and with his bright red hair, he’d always be easy to spot.
‘Now, Red, I’ve been so curious to meet all you young men. So much talked about, but so seldom seen. Do you know, when my Isaac was alive we used to go to see all the cowboy pictures; I always wanted to go to Texas and meet a real cowboy, or to California to see them making a film, but we never managed it.’
‘’Fraid we can’t get you to California till this war is over, but before the war, I worked on my daddy’s ranch.’
‘Oh, a ranch! Just like a real cowboy. And do you have lots of horses?’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be a proper ranch without horses. I love horses. Riding them, rearing them, you name it, I love it.’
‘He’s a genuine cowboy,’ said Phil, finally managing to get a word in, and stressing each syllable in genuine. ‘If we could find a horse, Red would give us a show.’
Mrs Teague clapped her hands together with excitement. ‘A real cowboy? Can you use a lasso?’
Red smiled. ‘There’s always something needs ketching on a farm. Next time I’m in town I’ll bring a lasso and I’ll teach you.’
Mrs Teague looked extremely startled. ‘Good gracious, Red, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that.’
‘But you didn’t ask, I offered,’ said Red with a smile that lit up his face.
While they all drank their tea, April watched in amusement as Red and Mrs Teague chatted as if they’d always known each other, and by the time everyone was ready to leave half an hour later, Mrs Teague knew all about Red’s parents, grandmother, brothers and sisters, and the ranch they lived on. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d even caught him telling Mrs Teague about his sweetheart back home.
Finally, Red looked at his watch. ‘C’mon, Phil, time to go. When we’re
in town we’ll be here or in that pub that has the big fireplace, ladies.’ Red took Mrs Teague’s hand and kissed it. Mrs Teague blushed with delight. ‘It’s been a real pleasure to meet you, Mrs T. You remind me a lot of my grandma. I bet you two would get on like a house on fire.’
‘Well, it’s been an equal pleasure meeting you, Red. Oh, and wait, there have been all sorts of things in the paper about making our American friends welcome in our homes, so I would like to extend an open invitation to you and any of your friends to pop by for a cup of tea if you ever want to. I can’t promise there’ll be much food, but there’ll always be a welcome.’ Mrs Teague scrabbled in her bag to find a pen and paper, then scribbled her address and handed it to Red. He took it solemnly.
‘I would surely love to do that, Mrs Teague. Thank you.’ Then he saluted them both briefly and left with his friend.
Mrs Teague sat back with a happy smile on her face. ‘Oh, how lovely. I will look forward to seeing that Red again. A cowboy? Gosh, who’d have thought I’d have a cowboy come to tea.’
April thought it unlikely that Red would ever turn up for tea, but said nothing. The two really had seemed to hit it off, though, and she knew Mrs Teague couldn’t help collecting young people to mother.
April put her hand on hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘Mrs Teague, you are quite one of the loveliest and warmest people I have ever met.’
‘Pshaw.’ Mrs Teague blushed again. ‘I’m just trying to do my duty. There’s little enough that an old woman like me can do, after all.’
April got up to pay the bill, but was startled when the waitress said, ‘No need for that, love. One of the Yanks paid it. Looks like you’re in with a chance there.’ She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly and turned away.
April stared after her in mortification. She wasn’t sure how to take this unexpected turn of events. Mrs Teague, of course, was in raptures about ‘what lovely boys’ the G.I.s were, with ‘such beautiful manners’. But April felt uncomfortable. Then again, maybe she was just being over-sensitive.
*
At the hospital the next day, she told Eunice and Bess what had happened. ‘I was so embarrassed. You don’t think they meant anything by it, do you?’
The G.I. Bride Page 7
