Bluebirds (87 page)

Nora bent to peer closer into the mirror. ‘This hat'll go just right with the suit, an' they're ever such a pretty colour. 'Course you couldn't wear white again, you bein' married before, an' all.'

Winnie knew what she meant by
an' all
. Only there hadn't been any an' all with Ken, though she wasn't going to tell Nora that – not unless she wanted the whole village to know too. The trouble was she hadn't told Virgil either, and she knew she ought to have done so he'd understand that she didn't know about things he'd expect her to know all about . . . She'd started to try to explain several times, but she'd felt so embarrassed and awkward. Americans were so different – lots of girls said that. They weren't shy and fumbling like most English boys. So, they probably didn't expect the girl to be shy either. Specially if she'd been married before. She'd got to tell him, somehow.

Nora was still admiring herself in the mirror. ‘An' it's nice you're bein' married in the church again. Properly, not in a registry office. Do they have churches in America? I can't remember seein' any in films.'

‘'Course they have churches – they're just not as old as ours. Virgil says he's got one near where he lives an' it's the same sort of thing, only it's built of wood, not stone.' Winnie closed the wardrobe door. ‘I'm so pleased you can come tomorrow, Nora. An' there's goin' to be a party after at the hall. Mum's doin' sandwiches an' jellies an' Virgil says they're goin' to get a whole lot of food from the camp, includin'
ice-cream!
'

Nora turned round. ‘Oooh, Winnie!'

‘An' one of the cooks at the base is a friend of Virgil's an' he's made us a real wedding cake with marzipan an' icin' on the top, not just cardboard.'

‘Oooh!'

‘
An
' there's goin' to be a band from the base, too, so you'll be able to dance.'

Nora's eyes were shining through the hat veil. ‘Boy, are we goin' to have fun!'

‘I'm sorry Curly isn't here.'

‘I'm not really.' Nora pulled a face. ‘He didn't have a ranch, you know. I found out.'

‘I 'spect he just wanted to impress you.'

‘Well, he needn't have done that. I didn't mind him not havin' a ranch so much. But I did mind him pretendin' about it, tellin' me a big fib. So, I said I didn't want to see him any more. Then he went off to fight in France with the rest of them an' I felt a bit bad about bein' like that to him when he'd probably go an' get killed.'

She sank down on Winnie's bed with a sigh. She was still wearing the hat. ‘They'll all be goin' soon, Winnie. The Air Force lot won't stay here when the war's finished. They'll be movin' out, same as the soldiers, an' goin' back home. It's goin' to be
awful
without them . . . I don't know how I'm goin' to stand it. It was all colour an' fun when they came an' it's goin' to be all grey and dreary again when they're gone, just like it was before.' She heaved another sigh. ‘You're so lucky, marryin' a Yank. Just think you'll be goin' off to live in America. You'll get away from dull old Elmbury.'

‘I'll miss it, though, Nora. It isn't so dull to me really. Anyway, I won't be goin' for a while. When the war's over the boats'll all be full of troops goin' home first. It'll be a long time before I can get on one I should think.'

‘Imagine that . . .' Nora rolled her eyes. ‘Sailin' away across the sea to a new life on the other side of the world! It's ever so excitin' an' romantic. I wish
I
were doin' that.'

‘P'raps you will. P'raps you'll meet someone tomorrow. There's lots of Americans comin'.'

‘Oooh . . .' Nora brightened. She took off the little hat and handed it over. Then she got up and bent to look out of the attic window.

‘Oh, Winnie, it's
snowin'!
Isn't that lovely? You're goin' to have a white weddin' after all.'

‘
Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God . . .
'

The vicar was looking down his nose a bit as he recited the words in his thin voice. Winnie knew that he didn't approve of her marrying an American, or of his church being full of them either. Lots of them had turned out to give Virgil a good send-off because he'd done the two tours.

Dad was swaying slightly on the other side of her. He'd had to fortify himself from the bottle of Johnnie Walker on the kitchen dresser before they set off, and when he'd held out his arm to her at the church he'd hissed: ‘I'm not doin' this
again
for you, Winnie. This is the last time.' He hated getting dressed up and all the fuss. She had walked down the aisle more holding
him
up than the other way around. Virgil had been there, waiting for her and the way he'd smiled at her had made her knees go as wobbly as Dad's.

‘. . . 
into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined
.' The vicar, mouth pursed, turned reluctantly to Virgil.

After the service she walked down the aisle on Virgil's strong arm, between the rows of smiling faces that made up for the vicar's long one, and to what wheezing notes Miss Hobson, the village school teacher, could coax out of the old organ. On her left hand was the gold wedding ring, sent from America, that had belonged to Virgil's grandmother – the one who'd gone out west to homestead the new land in Ohio, and on her right was the amethyst ring that had been hers too. It gave Winnie a proud feeling to be wearing them when they had belonged to someone like that.

Ten American servicemen from the base and ten WAAFS from Flaxton had formed a guard of honour outside the church for them. The sun was shining, making the snow sparkle, and the sky was clear and blue. In the far corner of the churchyard the red berries in the holly wreath she had laid on Ken's grave that morning stood out brightly. He would have been glad for me, she thought with certainty. I know he would.

As they reached the lych-gate there was the sound of a heavy bomber approaching. All eyes turned upwards as a B17 came into view, flying low. It roared straight over the church and dipped its wings in salute, and everyone could see
Wattagal Winnie!
in big letters on the nose and the painting of her in her blue dungarees and checked shirt.

‘That's for you,' Virgil said, grinning at her.

‘Oh, no,' she told him. ‘It's for
you.
For what you've done.'

‘Well, I guess, it's for both of us.' He put his arm round her shoulders.

Union Jacks and Stars and Stripes were strung together round the walls of the village hall and bunches of holly and mistletoe hung from the rafters. Up on the cramped little stage the band was getting ready, unpacking instruments and setting up music stands. Chairs had been placed in a regimented row at the edge of the room and near the door three trestle tables had been laden with food – with sandwiches and bridge rolls, cold turkey, spam and ham, big bowls of tinned fruit, shiny red, green and yellow jellies, blancmanges, biscuits, chocolates, candy and great tubs of American ice-cream. And from the centre of all this rose the glistening white three-tiered edifice of the wedding cake. To go with the feast there were jugs of orangeade, bottles of home-made wine donated from village larders, and a barrel of beer from the Pig and Whistle.

As the Elmbury villagers and the WAAFS from Flaxton crowded into the hall there was a long moment's silence in
appreciation of the sight that met their gaze. Then, with one accord, they fell upon the tables. The Americans, hanging back politely, watched in wonder.

Later, when the band began to play – softly at first – Virgil gathered Winnie in his arms. ‘Told you from the first you was the girl for me,' he said in her ear. ‘Now you'll always be mine.'

The lower the level in the beer barrel and bottles sank, the higher the noise level in the hall rose. And the faster the band played. Young and old took to the floor. Winnie, having a breather for a while, saw that even Dad was hopping about with Mum, waving his hands in the air. The WAAFS and the village girls were jiving wildly with the Americans and Nora squealed like a pig going to market as she was pitched over her partner's broad shoulder.

‘Gee . . .' The sergeant standing beside Winnie was chewing gum and clicking his fingers as he stared at the scene in disbelief. ‘This old joint's really jumpin'!'

Gran had found herself a chair strategically close to the trestle tables and the plate on her lap was piled high with samples of everything within her reach. Winnie went to sit beside her. She smelled strongly of the camphor used to keep the moths away from her best dress, and the lace bib that had been clean on that morning was well-spotted now. Her black straw bonnet was tied with a ribbon under her chin and must have been very old.

‘You all right, Gran?' Winnie shouted in her ear.

‘Whoi wouldn't oi be? T'ain't the fust party oi've bin ta, yew know. Gideon an' me liked a bit o' fun an' dancin' at Chrissmus.'

She was tapping her foot to the music and Winnie saw that she had put on the nylon stockings that Virgil had given her instead of her black woollen ones – only they were on the wrong way round, with the seams in front and the heels hanging like pouches round her ankles.

‘'Tis good to see our boys enjoyin' thareselves so finely.'

She meant the Americans, Winnie realized. Our boys, she'd called them. Other people in the village called them that too, in spite of the vicar. They weren't
those Yanks
any more. They were
our boys
.

She watched Virgil dancing with Ruth, bending down to teach her how to jive, twisting her gently this way and that. Laura was jumping about close by, wanting to be taught too. As he swung Ruth round he caught sight of Winnie and gave her a huge wink just like the one he'd given her the very first time she'd seen him at the dance.

Gran had been quaffing her elderberry wine and now she jabbed a bridge roll in Virgil's direction. ‘Knew he was the one fur yew, soon as I set eyes on'm. Alus puts me in moind o' Gideon.'

Winnie knew why. Virgil was not only tall and strong like Grandad had been, he was very brave too, and Grandad must have had plenty of courage. He had gone off to fight on the North-West Frontier in India in his youth and been wounded, and been given a medal that Gran kept in a matchbox. Virgil had been wounded too and he had been given two medals for what he'd done. She'd sewn the ribbons on for him and she'd never felt so proud of anyone.

They went to Cambridge for their honeymoon and because of the snow and the slow train it was very late by the time they arrived at the Garden House Hotel. The manager looked at them with open suspicion, fingering the register.

‘I'm not sure that we have a room after all, sir.'

Virgil leaned one arm on the reception counter. ‘This here's my wife, 'case you was wonderin', mister. We're just married. She's done me the honour.'

The manager smiled then. He turned the book round and pushed it forward. ‘Congratulations, sir. I'm sorry . . . we get so many who aren't.'

He brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses up to their room and opened it for them with a flourish. ‘May I wish you both every happiness.'

‘Nice guy,' Virgil said when he had left the room, wishing them a good night. ‘I ain't never drunk champagne before.' He was taking off his jacket and loosening his tie.

Nor had Winnie but she took several big swallows. It was now or never. ‘Virgil, there's somethin' I've got to tell you.'

He picked up his glass. ‘Sure . . . fire away.'

‘Well . . . well . . . well . . .'

‘Aw, come on, honey,' he grinned. ‘Can't be that bad.'

She swallowed some more champagne and burped. ‘Well, you know I told you that Ken, my first husband died . . .'

‘No disrespect to him, but I sure hope he did else we're breakin' the law, an' that guy downstairs is gonna want his champagne back.'

‘Yes, he did. Just like I told you. But you see, before that he was ill – for a long time.'

‘Yeah, I remember you said. Poor guy.'

‘Right from the day we got married he was poorly. He had a bad chest an' cough, an' he was very weak 'cos of his heart. I knew he was dyin' – that's really why I married him. We were goin' to wait 'til after the war otherwise.'

‘Gee. Kind've a tough situation.'

She nodded. ‘The thing is Ken was so poorly most of the time that he never . . . we never . . . he never . . .'

Virgil put down his glass slowly, staring at her. Then he went and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Wait a second, Winnie. Am I receivin' you right? You tryin' to tell me he ain't
never
made love to you? That it?'

‘That's it.'

‘Jeez . . . I feel real sorry for the guy, but to tell the truth I'm kinda glad too. Can't help feelin' like that. So, you ain't never –'

She shook her head.

‘With nobody?'

‘No.'

‘Not even that Welsh guy?'

‘
Specially
not him.' She shivered. He tried, though.'

‘Wish I'd punched him harder.' There was a smile lurking round the corners of Virgil's mouth. ‘An' I guess you've been worryin'. Thinkin' I'd figure you'd know the score?'

‘Somethin' like that.'

‘Well, you ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout, Winnie. Never had. But I'm glad you told me.' The smile broadened. ‘Say, that's a real cute hat, but I can't get at you with all that nettin' in the way. You plannin' on keepin' it on all night?'

‘Oh.' She took off the little hat and veil.

‘That's better.' He bent and kissed her gently. ‘Ain't nothin' to be scared of, see.'