Bluebirds (14 page)

‘Heavens, yes. Everyone knows Willy. Frightfully amusing.'

‘And Johnnie Somerville?'

The owner of the mink coat paused in mid-dab. ‘Johnnie? Is
he
here?'

‘Well, he's with Croesus Squadron.'

‘So he is. I'd quite forgotten. One gets in such a muddle with what they're all doing these days . . . Johnnie's
such
fun. Too divine for words. I saw him at Bunty's party last month, you know. He seemed rather keen, I may say . . .' The gold compact snapped shut. ‘In that case, I think I
am
going to enjoy myself.'

When the two women had left the cloakroom, Pearl imitated them contemptuously.

‘
Such
fun, darling!
So
amusing! Frightfully,
too, too
divine! Ugh! People like that make me sick.'

Anne had put on the mink coat and was looking at
herself in the long mirror, turning this way and that. She sniffed sideways at the soft fur collar which smelled expensively of the
Arpège
scent her mother wore.

‘Who were they, anyway?'

‘Girlfriends from London invited by those Croesus fellas, I s'pose. Crikey, they put the others in the shade a bit, didn't they? Wonder what this piece of animal cost.'

Pearl flung the sable wrap over one shoulder and admired herself. The two of them paraded up and down the empty cloakroom in front of the mirrors, wearing the furs. Dance music from the station band playing for the guests in the Mess reached them faintly, and tantalizingly. For a moment they swayed round with imaginary partners, arms outstretched.

Pearl stopped in disgust. ‘It's not bloody fair! Here we are, stuck in here while all that rotten lot of cows are out there, having a good time. Let's go and have a butchers at least.'

They put the furs away and slipped out of the cloakroom and across the vestibule. The double doors to the dining hall were open and they stationed themselves at one side, peering round the post. The big room had been cleared of tables for the dance and the band was playing on the dais at one end. A corporal with slicked-back hair stepped up to the microphone in front and started to croon.

Anne watched him with interest. ‘Who's that? I've seen his face before.'

‘Nobby Clarke. He's an armourer. Oily little tyke really, but he doesn't sing so bad, does he?'

‘I wouldn't mind having a go at that, Pearl. It looks fun.'

‘Why don't you go for an audition then, love? They were asking for people who could sing the other day for the Station Christmas bash. You've got a nice voice – I've heard you carolling away. You'd be just as good as Nobby.'

‘I'm not sure I could ever do it like he does, though.'

‘'Course you bloody could. You just stand up there, hold onto that microphone thing and warble into it, just like he's doing.'

They went on spying on the dancers. This was a rather different affair from the Sergeants' Mess evening, Anne saw. Far more decorous. Nobody was dancing like Stan with his Palais gliding. There was a good deal of pump handling and quartering the floor stiffly. Cynthia of the mink coat, she was pleased to see, was dancing with a portly squadron leader and looking extremely bored. What had happened to Johnnie who was rather keen and such fun?

Pearl had edged her way a little further round the door post and a pilot officer, coming out, caught sight of her. He was a little drunk and blinked at her, confused.

‘I say, I know you, don't I?'

‘I'm one of the WAAFS, sir.'

He grinned at her triumphantly. ‘Knew I'd seen you somewhere before. I say, what about a dance?'

‘You'll get me into trouble, sir,' Pearl said demurely.

‘What? Oh, stuff and nonsense! It's Christmas, or jolly nearly. No-one'll notice.'

Pearl winked back over her shoulder as she was led away. Anne stayed by the doorway, watching. Nobby Clarke was on the home straight now, clinging soulfully to the microphone.

Two officers had appeared from behind her and were standing in the doorway. She moved back but they seemed oblivious of her presence so close by. The tall one, nearer to her, leaned against the doorpost, hands in his pockets. The back view of fair hair reaching almost to the collar was familiar and Anne was sure that this was the driver of the green sports car that had almost knocked her down. She was not surprised, when he spoke, to hear that it was in a languid drawl.

‘I say, poor old Cynthia's got herself stuck with some frightfully stodgy type. Looks as bored as hell. Go and
do the decent thing and rescue her, Willy, there's a good chap.'

The other one laughed. ‘
You
go, old boy. You're welcome to her. Absolute bloody nympho, if you ask me. I'd sooner not have it
thrust
at me.'

‘Still, gift horses and all that . . .'

‘Speaking of horses, given or otherwise, old Cynthia's definitely getting a bit long in the tooth, you know. Past thirty, I'd say.'

‘Good lord, is she? Doesn't look it, I'll give her that. Not that I've ever actually seen her in the light of day. Last time I saw her at some party she looked all right to me, though I was a bit pissed so I can't remember much about it. I say, what on
earth's
that girl doing in here?'

Pearl and her pilot officer had come into view.

‘What girl?'

‘The fat one with that awful dyed red hair, dancing with Goofy whatsisname. What the hell does he think he's doing?'

‘Foxtrotting, I'd say, by the looks of it. Rather well, actually.'

‘I don't mean that Willy. What's he doing with that girl? She's a waitress.'

‘A what?'

‘A waitress. Serves in the Mess. She's one of those Women's Auxiliary thingummybobs. They wear those RAF shirts.'

‘You sure, old boy?'

‘Positive. She nearly spilled the soup in my lap, that's how I remember her. Never notice them otherwise. It was that tinned tomato stuff they dish up – missed me by a whisker or I might never've been the same man again. Bloody hot, you know. She should be in the kitchens, or somewhere.'

‘Shouldn't worry, old chap, there must be an officer in charge. She'll soon chuck her out. I saw a damned attractive one the other day, as a matter of fact. I always think uniform's pretty sexy on a woman . . .'

‘I'd steer bloody clear of the lot of them, Willy, if I were you. You don't know where they've been. Give 'em a wide berth and stick to your own kind.'

‘Careful what you say . . . I think there might be one of them standing right behind you, looking absolute daggers at us.'

The fair head turned briefly and without interest in Anne's direction. ‘Is there? God, they're everywhere.'

The shorter, darker one laughed. ‘I say, Johnnie, if looks could kill you, you'd be a dead man.'

‘That'll teach her to eavesdrop. Come on, Willy, we'd better go and do our stuff. I suppose I'll have to dance with Cynthia. God, what a bore! Did I tell you about that girl I met at Sonny's, by the way? She was the most incredible lay. Game for anything. I've asked her down next weekend. Booked a room at the Mermaid . . .'

The two men drifted away out of earshot. The band's tempo had speeded up and Nobby had exchanged his soulful expression for a roguish grin.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .

So
that
, Anne thought glowering, was Johnnie who was such fun and too divine for words, and Willy who was frightfully amusing. She did not find either of them either divine or remotely amusing. On the contrary. Pearl reappeared, flushed with triumph.

‘Bloomin' nuisance . . . I was just getting along like a house on fire with that bloke when Newman shows up dancing with some officer and I have to scarper pretty quick before she sees me. She was all togged up in a civvy frock and I didn't recognize her at first. Don't think she spotted me, though. Hey, what're you looking so pissed off about. What's happened?'

‘I've just seen the two those London women were talking about . . . Johnnie and Willy, or whoever they are. They were standing right here in front of me for a while.'

‘What were they like?'

‘Utterly revolting. They were quite sickeningly pleased
with themselves. I could hear every word they were saying and I can tell you they were bloody rude about us WAAFS – at least, the one called Johnnie was. I was just about to tell him exactly what I thought of him when they moved off.'

‘Lucky you didn't, duckie. You'd've been in more trouble. Mustn't cheek officers – remember.'

‘It would've been worth it . . . what a creep!'

Pearl took hold of Anne's arm firmly. ‘Come on, we'd best get back to our post before anything else happens. Forget those two sods. Let's go and try on some more furs.'

Speedy was manoeuvring Felicity rather erratically round the floor.

‘Speedy, this is meant to be a foxtrot.'

‘Good lord, is it? Thought it was a waltz. Damn silly name for a dance anyway. Foxes trot jolly quickly. If they mooned about like this they'd get clobbered every time. Sorry, got your toe then. Are you enjoying this caper?'

‘Dancing with you? Or the evening?'

‘Both. But specially dancing with me.'

‘I'm enjoying both, as it happens, though I won't go on doing so if you tread on my foot like that again.'

‘I'll try my hardest not to, I swear. Not really my line, dancing, as you may have noticed . . . You know, that frock you're wearing suits you like anything.'

‘Thank you.'

‘First time I've seen you out of uniform and it knocked me sideways, I can tell you. Mind you, the old uniform suits you too. Fact is,
anything
would suit you. What's it made of?'

‘The uniform? It's the same as yours, I think.'

‘No, I mean the frock. It's jolly pretty stuff . . . soft and it clings in all the right places.'

‘It's georgette.'

‘Ah, that reminds me. George is on standby to be your chaperone any evening this week. So, which one is it to be?'

‘Honestly, Speedy, I don't think it's a good idea –'

‘So you said before, Company Assistant Newman, and I told you that old George is the perfect answer to a maiden's worry.'

‘Actually, it's Assistant Section Officer now, not Company Assistant. They've changed the name.'

‘What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'

‘Another of Mr Snodgrass's favourites?'

‘Definitely. You can't beat the Bard, Snodders used to say – many a time and oft. Nothing like him for the apt phrase. Amazing when you think about it, isn't it? Three hundred years back and yet the old boy still puts his finger on it . . . if you see what I mean.'

‘I think I do.'

‘
Romeo and Juliet
, if I'm not mistaken. Now that's romantic stuff, if you like. Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Damn good. I'm not sure
where
the fellow is, though.'

‘He was listening below the balcony.'

‘Was he? Poor show that. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves.'

‘He did, in this case.'

‘So he did. I remember now. It was
his
name she was going on about. Always thought that a bit odd, you know. Rum sort of bloke, smelling of roses.'

Felicity laughed. ‘Speedy, this is supposed to be a quickstep now. They've changed the tune.'

‘Glad you noticed. Shall we walk a little faster, said the whiting to the snail . . . I say, there's a porpoise close behind us, all right. Lucky I didn't tread on
his
tail. Our revered and respected Station Master is at hand . . . don't look now. He's tripping the light fantastic with some old duck. Bet he wishes he was dancing with you. What are you making that face for?'

‘He's not revered by me.'

‘What's he done now? Eaten a WAAF for breakfast?'

‘It wouldn't surprise me. On toast, probably. He hates having us here. He thinks we just get in the way. I'm only here on sufferance this evening.'

‘Bad show. I can't think why they won't let you eat in the Mess, same as the rest of us. If I had my way, you'd sit next to me every day and then I'd eat up all my greens, like a good boy. Whoops, sorry old man . . . didn't see you there. That wasn't
him
, I'm thankful to say.'

‘We're second class. Third class, actually. He doesn't believe we're capable of more than cooking and cleaning and filling in forms. He told me so the first day I arrived here.'

‘Oh, he'll soon learn. He's one of the old guard, that's his trouble. Getting on a bit and stuck in his ways. As a matter of fact, he's not such a bad chap, you know, when he's in a good mood.'

‘When does he
ever
have a good mood?'

‘Oh, when the moon is full. Actually, I've seen him positively jovial at some of the Mess nights. Life and soul of the party.'

‘I can't believe it.'

‘'Tis all the cares and weight of responsibility that make him seem so unfriendly. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, and all that . . . There you are, the Bard once again. I told you, he always hits the nail on the head. I see our First Lady is running true to form this evening. Dancing with all the millionaires in turn.'

Felicity watched as Mrs Palmer passed them in the arms of one of the Croesus Squadron pilots. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing up into his face.

‘Are they really all millionaires in that squadron, Speedy?'

‘Bit of an exaggeration, I suppose, but most of them are pretty stinking rich, I'd say. Fresh meat for her. Different breed from us RAF Regulars, the Weekend chaps. She'll go through them like a dose of salts.'