‘But no one knows where.’
‘Dover to Calais is the shortest sea crossing,’ Daisy said.
‘And for that reason the German defences are concentrated around Calais. So maybe we’ll try to surprise them – say by landing on the south coast, near Marseilles.’
‘Perhaps then it will be over at last.’
‘I doubt it. Once we have a bridgehead, we still have to conquer France, then Germany. There’s a long road ahead.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Woody seemed to need cheering up. And Daisy knew just the girl to do it. Isabel Hernandez was a Rhodes Scholar doing a Master’s in history at St Hilda’s College, Oxford. She was gorgeous, but the boys called her a ball-buster because she was so fiercely intellectual. However, Woody would be oblivious to that. ‘Come over here,’ she called to Isabel. ‘Woody, this is my friend Bella. She’s from San Francisco. Bella, meet Woody Dewar from Buffalo.’
They shook hands. Bella was tall, with thick dark hair and olive skin just like Joanne Rouzrokh’s. Woody smiled at her and said: ‘What are you doing here in London?’ Daisy left them.
She served supper at midnight. When she could get American supplies it was ham and eggs; otherwise, cheese sandwiches. It provided a lull when people could talk, a bit like the interval at the theatre. She noticed that Woody Dewar was still with Bella Hernandez, and they seemed to be deep in conversation. She made sure everyone had what they needed then sat in a corner with Lloyd.
‘I’ve decided what I’d like to do after the war, if I’m still alive,’ he said. ‘As well as marry you, that is.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to try for Parliament.’
Daisy was thrilled. ‘Lloyd, that’s wonderful!’ She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
‘It’s too early for congratulations. I’ve put my name down for Hoxton, the constituency next to Mam’s. But the local Labour party may not pick me. And if they do I may not win. Hoxton has a strong Liberal MP at the moment.’
‘I want to help you,’ she said. ‘I could be your right-hand woman. I’ll write your speeches – I bet I’d be good at that.’
‘I’d love you to help me.’
‘Then it’s settled!’
The older guests left after supper, but the music continued and the drink never ran out, so the party became even more uninhibited. Woody was now slow-dancing with Bella: Daisy wondered if this was his first romance since Joanne.
The petting got heavier, and people began disappearing into the two bedrooms. They could not lock the doors – Daisy had taken the keys out – so there were sometimes several couples in the same room, but no one seemed to mind. Daisy had once found two people in the broom cupboard, fast asleep in each other’s arms.
At one o’clock her husband arrived.
She had not invited Boy, but he showed up in the company of a couple of American pilots, and Daisy shrugged and let him in. He was amiably squiffy, and danced with several nurses, then politely asked her.
Was he just drunk, she wondered, or had he softened towards her? And if so, might he reconsider the divorce?
She consented, and they did the jitterbug. Most of the guests had no idea they were a separated husband and wife, but those who knew were amazed.
‘I read in the papers that you bought another racehorse,’ she said, making small talk.
‘Lucky Laddie,’ he said. ‘Cost me eight thousand guineas – a record price.’
‘I hope he’s worth it.’ She loved horses, and she had thought they would buy and train racehorses together, but he had not wanted to share that enthusiasm with his wife. It had been one of the frustrations of her marriage.
He read her mind. ‘I disappointed you, didn’t I?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘And you disappointed me.’
That was a new thought to her. After a minute’s reflection she said: ‘By not turning a blind eye to your infidelities?’
‘Exactly.’ He was drunk enough to be honest.
She saw her opportunity. ‘How long do you think we should punish one another?’
‘Punish?’ he said. ‘Who’s punishing anyone?’
‘We’re punishing each other by staying married. We should get divorced, as sensible people do.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said. ‘But this time on a Saturday night is not the best moment to discuss it.’
Her hopes rose. ‘Why don’t I come and see you?’ she said. ‘When we’re both fresh – and sober.’
He hesitated. ‘All right.’
