The Grafton Girls - Annie Groves [51]
She would wait until a quarter-past and not a minute longer. She had her pride, after all. But what if he arrived after that and she wasn’t here? He’d think she wasn’t interested. And she…She tensed as she heard the screech of tyres and a Jeep came barrelling down the road, scattering pedestrians.
Nick! She was making her way towards him even before it had stopped, ignoring the irritated looks of the people she was pushing past.
‘What happened?’ she demanded when she reached him. ‘You’re so late.’
‘Sorry, babe…A bit of last-minute dickering with one of the guys.’ He winked at her. ‘Had to collect my winnings to spend on my best girl.’
‘Where’s everyone else?’ Myra asked him. ‘You said there’d be a crowd of us going.’
He winked again. ‘I decided that it would be more fun if we were on our own. Come on, jump in.’
Myra didn’t hesitate. It was flattering to know that he wanted her to himself.
‘You must have felt a bit let down when the others decided not to come along?’ she commented archly as she settled herself beside him in the Jeep.
‘Sure I felt let down, about as let down as if I’d won the platoon crap game,’ he answered derisively, grinning at her. ‘Hold on to your hat, babe. Blackpool, here we come.’ And then he leaned across and kissed her exultantly.
‘Coo, just have a look at all this lot in here,’ Lucy demanded admiringly, staring round at the Stars and Stripes-bedecked dance hall.
‘It’s on account of it being the fourth of July and American Independence Day,’ Jess told her knowledgeably.
‘I know that, ta very much,’ Lucy came back smartly. ‘Done it up really, really nice, they have,’ she added approvingly.
The dance hall owners had made a big effort to make their American allies feel welcome and that Liverpool was ready to help them celebrate their important national day.
It made Jess happy inside just looking at the flags and feeling the good mood of the crowd. Not that everyone shared her happiness, she decided, glancing across at Ruthie.
‘Come on, Ruthie,’ she chivvied her. ‘Cheer up. You look as miserable as if you’d lost half a crown and found a sixpence. What’s up?’ she demanded as they handed over their money and were swept up the Grafton’s staircase in the swell of eager would-be dancers, all laughing and exclaiming excitedly about the Stars and Stripes banners and decorations.
‘Nothing,’ Ruthie denied, summoning up a bright smile.
‘Don’t give me that. It’s as plain as can be that something’s worrying you. Come on, you can tell me,’ Jess coaxed.
‘It’s my mother. She…she’s…’ Her voice died away as she struggled between her longing to confide in Jess and her natural desire to protect her mother’s privacy.
‘She’s bound to feel a bit low at times,’ Jess comforted her. ‘My Auntie Fran’s just the same. Her Alfred was on a tram that got hit by a bomb during the May blitz. Only this week she was saying as how he would have been sixty-five this month.’
Ruthie hesitated. It wasn’t like her to talk about her mother to others, but she felt that she just had to unburden herself, and who better to talk to about her feelings than Jess? There was something about Jess and the kindness and warmth she had shown her that told Ruthie that her new friend would understand and not sit in judgement on her poor mother.
‘It’s a bit different with Mum,’ she told her sadly. ‘She and Dad were so close that it’s as though sometimes she can only get by by pretending that he’s still here. It’s not that she isn’t right in her head or anything,’ she told Jess, anxious not to give her the wrong impression of her mother’s condition. ‘The doctor has told us that she is, but that sometimes she just needs to pretend that Dad’s still here. Not that she knows what she’s doing or why. She can be as right as rain one minute and then the next