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By Root 813 0

her – a ring given in church and with solemn vows – meant that she was his. Nothing could go wrong now. Jim would come round and see things her way. She would get what she wanted from him; she always had. Nick’s bad mood was just a minor and brief inconvenience. By the time they reached Lime Street, he would have forgotten about whatever it was that had annoyed him. She certainly wasn’t going to let his bad mood spoil her happiness at the weekend and in the future. Everything she wanted was within her grasp now – all of it: America, New York, her longed-for glamorous life as the wife of an American. And not a poor American either, she acknowledged, taking another thrilled look at her ring. Let Diane try to tell her to watch out now, she thought triumphantly, too wrapped up in her own excitement to be aware of the bleakness of the empty bombed-out streets surrounding them as they made their way to Lime Street.

‘No, don’t let’s go that way,’ Ruthie objected, hanging back when Glen headed towards the shortcut to the station through an area of bombed-out streets.

‘Why not? It’s quicker,’ he pointed out.

Reluctantly Ruthie gave in, unwilling to explain even to Glen how much she disliked walking down the now-empty streets with their solitary intact houses and the mass of rubble where other homes had once been. There was an air about the place that always upset her, and she couldn’t forget that people had died here, killed by the bombs that had ripped apart their homes.

The street was empty, and their footsteps echoed on the pavement. As they reached the place where another street cut across their route, a young woman coming along it, who had turned as she rounded the corner, to say something to the GI who was with her, would have collided with Walter if he hadn’t put his hand out to stop her. The young woman looked up. Ruthie, recognising her as Diane’s co-billetee, was about to greet her when, to her shock, the GI with her suddenly took hold of Walter and pushed him back against the wall, growling, ‘Get your hands off my girl.’

Shocked by the violence that had erupted out of nowhere, Ruthie looked at Myra, expecting to see the same horror mirrored in her eyes but instead Myra merely looked bored.

‘Glen…’ she began, worriedly.

But Glen was already moving closer to the other two men, attempting to get between them and Ruthie could hear him demanding tersely, ‘Let him go, Mancini.’

‘Let him go? Oh, I’ll let him go all right, but not until I’ve taught him a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry. No farm kid comes on to my dame.’ He swore at Walter, before thrusting his knee hard into his groin, causing Walter to grunt and double over with pain. As Walter did so, Nick smashed his fist into Walter’s stomach and then hit him again on the jaw.

‘Accuse me of running a fixed crap game, would you, farm kid? Well, here’s what you get for interfering in things that ain’t none of your business.’

‘Oh, make him stop. Please make him stop,’ Ruthie begged Myra frantically, tears pouring down her face as she turned towards Walter, who was now crouching down on the pavement, holding his stomach whilst Glen stood protectively in front of him, squaring up to Nick, his own fists raised.

‘Want some of what your friend got, do you?’ Nick threatened Glen.

‘Come on, Nick,’ Myra demanded, her earlier good mood vanishing. ‘We’ll miss the train,’ she warned him. She had no wish to have her trip to London brought to an end before it had started because Nick had got himself involved in a fight.

Nick, though, was ignoring her. ‘Get out of my way,’ he told Glen savagely, swinging a hard punch at him.

Glen staggered back, blood pouring from his nose and his lip cut. Ruthie gave a small cry of distress and left Walter to run to him.

‘Come on, Nick,’ Myra demanded impatiently.

A group of boys had appeared at the top of the street, kicking a football, and one of them called out, ‘Hey look, a fight.’

Frantically Ruthie tried to stem the blood pouring from Glen’s nose with her handkerchief. Walter was still crouching on the floor behind her, and at first