The Grafton Girls - Annie Groves [107]
Now, through the carriage window she could see a British soldier running down the opposite platform where the train was ready to leave.
Reaching for the leather strap to let down their own window, Nick called out tauntingly, ‘Learned to run like that at Dunkirk, did you, buddy?’
The other GIs in the compartment with them got to their feet, jeering and making catcalls as the train pulled out with the British soldier, who had now turned to glare at them, red-faced and obviously furious. He looked so enraged that for a minute Myra thought he was actually going to try to board their train. He was, she noticed, wearing the insignia of the Desert Rats, Jim’s unit.
‘Quit riling the natives, why don’t you, guys?’ a lone GI in the opposite corner drawled wearily as their own train set off, distracting the men and causing them to switch from catcalling to whistling and cheering.
They were off. Myra looked down at the ring on her left hand, and smiled to herself.
‘Why don’t you get yourself off home, love?’ the police sergeant suggested to Ruthie. The MPs, who had arrived in their Jeep, screeching to a halt in front of them, the two men in the back jumping out before the vehicle had even stopped and coming to them at a run, had quite intimidated Ruthie. But they had gone now, taking both Walter and Glen with them.
‘I still don’t see why they had to take Walter all the way back to Burtonwood instead of taking him straight to Mill Road Hospital, when it would have been so much closer,’ Ruthie fretted worriedly.
‘Well, that’s regulations and the army for you, lass,’ the policeman told her calmly.
The MPs had been so brusque and rough in their handling of both Walter and Glen that Ruthie had been shocked, but Glen had managed to reassure her that there was no cause for alarm.
‘But they were acting as though you were the one who attacked Walter, and they wouldn’t listen when you tried to tell them about that other GI,’ Ruthie had whispered worriedly to him, clinging to his hand over the side of the Jeep whilst the MPs spoke with the police.
‘We can sort all that out when we get back to camp. The most important thing now is getting Walter back there so that he can get some treatment,’ Glen had reassured her.
‘You’ll let me know how he is, won’t you?’ she had begged him.
‘You’ll be hearing from me just as soon as there’s any news,’ he had promised her, giving her a tender loving look that made her ache to throw herself into his arms and refuse to let him go.
‘I wish the police hadn’t let that other man go,’ she had fretted.
‘I guess they didn’t have any choice. Mancini isn’t the kind of guy who lets others tell him what to do. But don’t worry about it: the MPs will catch up with him when he gets back to camp.’
‘But he was trying to say that it was your fault and that you attacked Walter,’ Ruthie insisted.
Glen had laughed then. ‘Not even Mancini can get away with that. Who’s going to believe him when Walter tells everyone what really happened?’ he had told her.
‘But why would anyone do such a thing?’
‘That’s the kind of guy Mancini is,’ he had answered with a small shrug. ‘He’s got a grudge against Walter because Walter caught him out running a rigged card game – that’s cheating to you, hon,’ he had explained with a tender smile. ‘And my guess is that it wasn’t the first time either. Mancini has a crowd of guys around him that like to play for high stakes and he seems to win more often than he loses.’
‘But he was the one who was in the wrong in the first place, not Walter, for cheating at cards.’
‘Men like Mancini don’t think like that, sweetheart. He’s a real bad lot, and that’s for sure. He saw his chance to pay Walter back and he took it. There’s more than one poor guy wishing now he had never met him, nor got involved in his poker games.’
‘Oh, Glen…’ Ruthie had sobbed, clinging to his hand at the side of the Jeep right