The Grafton Girls - Annie Groves [71]
Diane took a deep breath and then, keeping her head up, followed the other girls into the room.
A group of senior officers was standing in the middle of the room, engrossed in discussion, the braid on their uniforms shining dully in the overhead light.
‘Lord, look at all that egg yoke,’ the girl next to Diane, who had introduced herself as Justine, murmured wryly, referring to the gold braid that denoted the seniority of the officers. ‘Not many Senior Service in evidence,’ she added. ‘Mind you, it’s hardly surprising in view of what’s been happening over the weekend. Plenty of RAF, though, and a good few American top brass as well.’
‘What are we supposed to do now?’ Diane asked uncertainly.
‘You’ll be allocated a naval rating to act as a waiter and then it will up to you to circulate, make sure all the invitees have a drink and someone to talk to. If you get stuck for something to say just ask them about their mum -much safer than asking if they have a girl,’ Justine advised.
Diane started to nod in response when her attention was caught by the familiar features of Major Saunders. Her heart sank.
Justine, seeing the direction in which she was looking, told her, ‘That’s Major Saunders with the Commander. He’s the main liaison officer for the Americans. Have you met him yet? If not, I’ll take you over and introduce you. You’ll see him around here quite a lot. He co-ordinates the groups of Americans coming from Burtonwood to see the way in which the Western Approaches Tactical Unit, works,’ she added.
‘No, no, it’s all right. I…I have met him,’ Diane stopped her quickly.
‘Good-looking chap,’ Justine commented. ‘Pity that he’s married.’
The doors were opening again, this time to admit the young Americans who had been invited to the party.
‘It looks like it’s the aircrew lot tonight,’ Justine told Diane. ‘Pity, I’m not really in the mood for American fly-boy bragging at the moment.’
‘Surely they don’t do that? Brag, I mean?’ Diane queried. ‘After all, if they’re only just arriving they won’t have flown any real missions yet.’
‘That doesn’t stop them,’ Justine assured her. ‘You wait and see.’
Diane was beginning to suspect that her companion wasn’t very keen on their American allies, but before she could say anything to her the other girl had turned away to speak with someone else.
‘Ah, Wilson, there you are, good.’ Diane turned when she heard Group Captain Barker addressing her, and then wished her superior had approached someone else when she saw that one of the uniformed men with her was the major.
‘Diane, by all that’s holy, it is you, isn’t it?’
Diane’s eyes widened in surprise as she focused on the familiar face of the man who had stepped out from behind the major.
‘Charles! Oh! I mean, Wing Commander,’ she managed to correct herself, her face burning.
Charles Seddon Gore, or ‘the Wing Co’, as Kit and the other flyers had called him, was a hugely popular character amongst the men, and Diane knew that Kit admired him tremendously. He had first seen action in the First World War as a seventeen-year-old, and had been shot down over the Channel during the Battle of Britain. The last Diane had heard of him was that he had been rescued but had been badly injured and his days of flying missions were over.
‘Oh, I say, you are a sight for sore eyes.’ He was beaming at Diane now. Turning to the men with him, he explained, ‘This young lady worked at the base in Cambridgeshire where I was stationed before I had to bale out over the Channel. Probably glad to see the last of me, and quite right too. A flyer who has to ditch his plane and jump into the drink is a damned nuisance.’
‘We were all delighted when we heard that you’d been rescued, sir,’ Diane told him truthfully. ‘You were missed very much by all those who knew you.’
‘Mm. And that young man of yours – still flying, is he?’
Diane felt her heart do a steep dive. ‘So far as I know,’ she confirmed woodenly.
‘Must say that I’m surprised he’s let you come so far away from him. Would have thought he’d have had that wedding