‘That’s great. Thank you very much.’
He received a begrudging nod as the man poured water from a jug into Mary’s glass before setting it down.
Bill held out his beer and she lifted her tumbler to meet it.
‘Cheers.’
She responded: ‘Cheers.’
They took sips, then as she set her glass carefully down, she said: ‘Lieutenant—’
He interrupted her. ‘Bill – please.’
She took a deep breath, conscious that they were going a step further.
‘Bill – that’s a nice name – is it William, really?’
Hearing her say it for the first time felt really great.
‘Yes – but I’m never called that. ‘And you…?’ he prompted.
She pulled a face. ‘Mary – it’s awful, isn’t it?’
Bill looked at her intently. ‘I think it’s a beautiful name.’
She giggled nervously. ‘You know what this makes us?’
He looked blank, so she added: ‘Do you know your English Kings and Queens?’
‘Sure know George the Third – he lost a colony.’
She gave him a stern look but said: ‘William and Mary.’
‘Ah.’ He pretended he understood, but whether she’d meant it or not, the implication that they were a couple was great.
Embarrassed, she felt the same, was amazed that she’d come out with it. Was some unseen force taking charge of her?
‘Anyway Mary …’ saying it aloud was wonderful. ‘… what were you about to say?’
She was perplexed for a moment, then remembered. ‘Oh yes, what are you going to do after all this has finished? Will you take up your studies with the law again?’
He looked down into his beer. ‘Who knows. I’m not the same person any more – none of us are, I guess. I’ll just have to take that one when it comes along. Anyway, we all expect to be sent to the Pacific when European operations end.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘And what about you? Is this going to be your life’s work, here in Cambridge?’
Mary shook her head.
‘Good heavens, no. When the men return no doubt I’ll be overlooked for posts, anyway I’d like to do something out of the ordinary for a while – combine some research with working in one of those kibbutzim the Jews are setting up in Palestine. After that …’ she shrugged her shoulders, ‘if I’m not married I suppose a career in academia somewhere, or the Civil Service.’
Bill played his finger slowly around the rim of his glass. ‘I have some Jewish blood.’
Puzzled, Mary put her head to one side, quizzed: ‘Does that matter?’
‘To some – maybe. It certainly didn’t to my paternal grandfather – he came from Scotland, by the way. He met my German-Jewish grandmother on the boat over. That’s America for you, the great melting-pot of the Western world.’
Mary thought, so that’s where the knock-out dark hair and blue eyes come from.
Just then the meal arrived. As the waiter and a young girl delivered the fish pie and served some over-cooked sloppy vegetables, they were both glad of a rest from talking, conscious they had known each other barely eight hours in total. This time last night she had gone to bed early to keep warm, and he’d been in the bar.
The day before he’d been over Germany, she at Bletchley reading transcripts purportedly from a German command-centre on the Eastern front. Neither of them had known of the existence of the other.
With the meal, conversation became easier and when they both declined the tapioca pudding, Bill fished out his silver cigarette-case, a present from his parents when he’d won his wings.
He offered her one, was a little surprised when she took it. He applied his lighter to the end.
‘I thought maybe you might disapprove.’
Mary blew smoke into the air. ‘Thanks. I didn’t smoke before the war, but everybody does now. You feel you’re not one of the girls if you don’t join your mates in a fag.’
Bill chuckled out loud.
Mary frowned. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Old languages you might be good at, but English as she is spoken in the New World, now that’s a different proposition, Mary.’
She realized that there was obviously a different connotation to the slang word for cigarette, but only wrinkled her nose at him.
The band struck up a Glenn Miller number – Moonlight Serenade. There was a rush to the floor. They watched as the British couples circled the outside, while the Americans shuffled on the spot in the centre.
‘Do you like dance music?’ Bill asked.
She tapped the end of her cigarette above the ashtray. ‘Yes, I do. Got used to it because of the wireless. It’s played non-stop all over the place, especially in factories and work places. I haven’t had much experience of the real thing though.’ Mary winced apologetically and added: ‘Bit of a bluestocking, really.
That puzzled Bill. ‘Bluestocking?’
Mary saw her chance to tease. ‘English as she is spoken in the mother country. It now means a bookworm – a swot – but was originally named after eighteenth-century society hostesses who wore blue hosiery and held the most intellectual soirées in town.’
He frowned mockingly. ‘Really. But do you know Glenn Miller?’
She did, but enjoying the banter said: ‘Glen who? Is that in Scotland?’
Bill knew he was being strung along, and joined in with relish.
‘Who’s Glenn Miller? My God, woman, where have you been? You must be one hell of a greenstocking.’
Mary chuckled. ‘Blue. It’s blue as you very well know. Of course I’ve heard of him. They’ve broadcast concerts he’s given from Bedford – that’s not far away. He’s stationed there.’
‘Yeah?’ Bill leaned forward. ‘There’s a big poster in the Red Cross Club. He’s playing at the Guildhall here in Cambridge – would you like to go – it’s tomorrow?’
Mary was obviously taken aback. ‘Well, I….’
Bill realized what he had done, and panicked. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to crowd you. I guess I got carried away.’
Quickly she said: ‘Oh, it’s not that. It’s just – well – I don’t know how to dance. I’ve never done it.’
Bill leapt up and held out his hand. ‘Nothing to it. Come on, I’ll show you.’
Flustered, but unable to refuse his hand, she stood up. She was still protesting as he led her to the floor.
Mary knew that they were about to come physically very close together. Her heart started to thump against her ribcage.
Bill towed her through the side-stepping quarter-turning British and reached the other Americans shuffling on the spot in the middle. It happened in one smooth movement – Bill just turned back on his tracks as she kept on coming, walking right into him. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Instinctively she placed her left hand on his shoulder.
Breathlessly, Mary warned: ‘But I don’t know any steps.’
As they shuffled around she slowly relaxed. Her body had been as stiff as a board but she found herself softening, leaning in against his muscular frame, swaying to the music.
‘There – you got it. Easy, huh?’ Bill encouraged her.
She would never forget Moonlight Serenade.
The rest of the evening they were hardly off the floor, eventually clinging heavily to each other as they moved to the slow beat of the double-bass. Her eyes were closed when the music came to an end, and the band-leader, in his dinner-jacket and winged collar pulled the mike nearer.
‘That’s it tonight, ladies and gentlemen. We hope you have enjoyed yourselves with us, and don’t forget, we shall be here again Saturday – same time, same place….’
Obviously in a hurry the band struck up God Save the King before he’d quite finished. They stood motionless, but their hands stayed locked tightly together. When it ended there was desultory clapping. They walked back to their table, only relinquishing their grip on each other when the main lights came on.
He was disappointed. ‘Oh, I thought we might have a nightcap – tea or a coffee or whatever.’
Upset, Mary clutched his arm. ‘I’m so sorry. But if I do have to be let in, the dean gets a report.’ She scowled. ‘Only me of course, because I’m a woman at their college. Honestly, with women in munition factories and the like, it’s such a nonsense.’
He frowned. ‘But your college is only just round the corner.’
Vigorously she shook her head.
‘Yes, but I told you before: I live in rooms further out. It will take me all my time in the blackout to get there.’
Anxiously, Bill said: ‘You will let me escort you – won’t you?’
Her heart started to pound again at the thought of what might happen, but she heard herself saying: ‘I was rather hoping you would.’
With their coats on they stepped out through the darkened doorway. A stray shaft of light showed the anti-blast paper criss-crossing the windows, before it was quickly smothered.
Mary’s hand found his. ‘Careful. Watch out for lampposts. There’s many a black eye caused by walking into them – or so they say.’
She led the way, crossing the road and then walking down a lane.
‘My place is on the other side of the Cam.’
The dark soaring shapes of the colleges stood out against the starry sky, the Milky Way shining like a bright band of diamonds.
Mary looked up, the faint light catching her upturned face. ‘Isn’t it wonderful? Since the blackout the night sky has been terrific. We haven’t seen the like since the last century – before gas-lamps and electricity in towns.’
Bill looked at her, breathed: ‘Yeah – beautiful.’
It happened easily, naturally. Their faces drew closer. At the last moment her eyes closed and their lips brushed, separated, came back again, and stayed.
When at length they parted she put her head against his chest, face sideways, lost in the shadow. His hand gently stroked her hair.
It was a few seconds before she spoke in a tiny voice.
‘Bill, what’s happening? This time yesterday we didn’t even know each other.’
He kissed her sweet-smelling hair. ‘I know. I can’t believe it myself.’
They stood for what seemed ages until he said: ‘I’ve got six more days, Mary. Can I see you every day? Can I see you tomorrow? The Glenn Miller show is on at the Guildhall. Now you can dance it would be fun.’
His voice was pleading.
Mary was elated, then suddenly despondent.
‘Yes, yes of course. Oh – damn.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The day after that is one of my war effort days. In the evening I’ve got to travel to …’ Shocked that she nearly said Bletchley Park she stopped abruptly, then ended lamely: ‘somewhere for a couple of days.’
Bill’s face showed his desperation. ‘Must you go? I’ve only got this week.’
Mary thought furiously. ‘I’ll call in sick – first thing in the morning. They’ll want a note from my doctor, but I’ll sort that out somehow. Anyway, I’ll catch up later. But I have to give a lecture in the morning – and a tutorial in the afternoon. I can’t dodge them, but I’ll be free from about four o’clock onwards.
Bill threw his arms around her and gave her a hug, lifting her feet off the ground as he described a circle before setting her down. ‘That’s great.’ Laughing and joking they moved on – to be blinded by two flashlights catching them full in the face. A voice commanded:
‘Stay there, please.’
Two figures stepped up close, the lights dropping to take in their bodies before coming to rest on their chests. The light reflected back so that they could make out two policemen, a sergeant and a constable, with steel helmets and gas-masks on shoulder-straps. The sergeant spoke again.
‘Out late, aren’t we?’
Bill frowned. ‘Just showing the lady home, officer – is there a problem?’
The constable strolled around behind them, examining them with his torch.
Sergeant said: ‘No – not that I know of.’
His light fell on to Bill’s uniform.
‘Can I see both of your identity cards please?’
Mary fiddled in her handbag, lit up by the returned constable’s light, while Bill unbuttoned his coat and fished inside his tunic for his wallet, then handed over the card.
The sergeant studied it intently. ‘You on leave, sir?’
‘Yep.’
‘Have you got your leave pass with you?’
Bill frowned, and began to undo his coat, revealing more of his jacket as he tried various pockets.
‘I may have left it at the hotel – I’m staying at the Swan – they needed it for registration….’
Mary found her card and held it out. ‘Here we are. I work at the college.’ She indicated the high wall they were passing.
The sergeant took it, scanned it, then gave it back. ‘Thank you.’
He turned back to Bill, who was still searching his pockets. ‘That’s all right, sir, that won’t be necessary.’
Bill stopped. ‘That’s very kind of you, I appreciate it.’
The sergeant eased his chinstrap. ‘Least I can do, sir. You’re doing your bit, I’m sure.’
Bill shrugged. ‘We’re all doing that, sergeant.’ He began to button his coat up again as the sergeant turned to Mary. He was still a bit suspicious.
‘And what did you say you did at this college, miss?’
Mary raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated yet again at the incredulity of all men.’
‘I didn’t, sergeant. I’m a research fellow, and yes I do know it’s unusual.’
The policeman was surprised, and couldn’t hide it. ‘A lady! I see. Very well then, I’ll wish you both goodnight and good luck.’
They answered in chorus: ‘Goodnight,’ and moved on, her arm in his.
Bill whispered: ‘I don’t think he believed you.’
Mary grunted. ‘From the look on his face I think he thought I ought to be still chained to the kitchen sink.’
When they were out of earshot the constable murmured: ‘She’s a looker. Bloody Yanks get all the best women.’
His sergeant turned on his heel and began pacing towards town again. ‘Did you see his medals?’
The constable snorted. ‘They get them for just being here, don’t they?’
The sergeant shook his head. ‘He’s got a DFC, they don’t give them out willy nilly, I can tell you. So he deserves anything he can get in my book.’
After Silver Street bridge, Mary started down the sandy path which in the moonlight looked to him like his own yellow brick road. He put his arm around her shoulder, and Mary responded by holding on to his waist.
They walked in silence until she said; ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go back the long way round.’
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘I’m not tired.’
‘Neither am I.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think I’ll sleep a wink – I’ve had such a lovely time.’
Bill kissed the side of her head. ‘Me too.’
Later, as they turned into her road of three-storey terrace houses, an increasing roar began to fill the heavens. He felt her shiver, so he stopped and drew her into him and held her tightly.
‘It’s the RAF – Round The Clock. Now the Army boys are over there, Fortress Europe is nearly finished.’
Her voice came up from his chest. ‘What will you be doing when your leave is up?’
He was evasive. ‘Oh, back on the job.’
She pulled away and looked up at him. ‘Look, Bill, I’m not daft. Tell me what you do exactly – if you can – it matters a lot to me.’
Bill thought for a moment. ‘OK. I’m in a fighter squadron. We escort bombers.’ Her face fell. With a sigh, she said, ‘I had hoped that, perhaps, you weren’t in the fighting; lia
son or something like that.’
He pulled her close again, cuddled her. ‘It’s not like the bomber boys. Compared to them it’s a piece of cake.’ If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she would have chuckled at his use of RAF slang.
He didn’t say anything about the targets of opportunity.
The word had come down to strafe airfields on the way home – any aircraft destroyed would now be credited as kills. It made sense, but airfields were heavily defended….
They walked in silence until they reached the gate to her digs.
Bill was anxious. The roar in the sky had diminished to a distant hum, but it was still casting a shadow over the end of the evening.
‘You all right? You’ve gone quiet.’
‘Yes.’ She did not intend to tell him that her brother had died in the Battle of Britain. He’d got his wings, and three weeks later his Hurricane had gone down in the Channel after his first dogfight. She’d sworn then that she would never get friendly with anybody in the services – especially the Air Force.
She reached up and hugged him. ‘Yes – of course.’
It was finding out the precarious reality of their situation that gave her the urge, but she kissed him passionately on the mouth.
She pulled back, said: ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then – say seven o’clock at the hotel?’
He pleaded: ‘No – I’ll pick you up here at, say, six-thirty. We had better get there early, it’s going to be crowded.’
She frowned, was going to say that her landlady, Mrs Chick, wouldn’t approve, and then thought: damn it, and said: ‘I look forward to it.’
With that she gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek, turned and ran up the stairs and opened the door. Just as she closed it behind her she waved with her fingers.
Bill caught sight of a curtain twitching. He stood for a moment in the empty dark street, then walked away as another roaring in the sky started to build.
When she reached her room Mary leaned back against the door, tears rolling down her cheeks as the unlit room reverberated to the same angry sky.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bill couldn’t get to sleep; his mind kept going round and round, full of Mary, of the moment he had first set eyes on her, and every second since then, the way she moved, the way she smiled, her hair, everything.
Beneath Us the Stars Page 4
