Death Is in the Air

“I always thought the Americans talked English.” Bessie got up from her knees with a groan. “I’m beginning to think they talk a foreign language after all.”

“I know. I have trouble understanding Sam sometimes. He comes from Tennessee and really slurs his words.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be going out with Yanks?”

Polly scrambled to her feet. “I’m old enough. As old as most of them, anyway.”

Bessie shook her head. “They’re too young to be fighting in a war. It’s criminal, that’s what I call it.”

Polly felt a stab of sympathy for Bessie. With her husband dead and both her boys fighting abroad, she must be feeling really lonely. Obeying an unexpected impulse, she put her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Tell you what, I’ll introduce you to some of the Yanks tonight. They’re all nice boys, and you could sort of mother them. They must be missing their mums as much as you miss your boys.”

Bessie wiped a tear from her eye. “You’re a good girl, Polly, and that’s a fact.” She beamed her familiar smile. “Come on, let’s get these records over there so you can start dancing with your Sam.”

“I just hope he gets there soon.” Polly piled the platters into the shopping bag that Bessie held out to her. “None of them had come back when I left.” She couldn’t voice aloud the thought that followed. Please God, let him be all right.

“You look very nice, madam,” Martin announced when Elizabeth met him in the front hallway. “I hadn’t realized you were going on the town. Shall I have Geoffrey bring around the horses?”

Elizabeth didn’t have the heart to remind Martin that Geoffrey had died of tuberculosis many years ago. “That won’t be necessary, thank you, Martin. I’ll be using other transportation tonight.”

Martin gave her a shrewd look. “Not that infernal machine that American drives around, I hope? It makes enough noise to wake the dead. I can’t fathom for the life of me why they don’t use their horses. I thought Americans rode horses everywhere.”

“Only in certain parts of America, I believe.” Elizabeth spoke automatically; her mind was elsewhere. It was well past eight o’clock, and so far there had been no sign of Major Monroe. She’d waited in the library in a fever of excitement, which had gradually diminished as the seconds had ticked by in that lonely room. Now she was beginning to get worried.

“You haven’t seen any sign of the Americans this evening, have you?” she asked Martin. Perhaps she’d missed him somehow, and he’d gone on to the dance with his fellow officers.

“The American motorcars have not arrived back yet this evening,” Martin said, glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner. “They are rather late, come to think of it.”

Elizabeth suddenly felt cold. “Well, yes, I suppose I should be getting down to the town hall. If you see Major Monroe, please tell him I have already left and will meet him at the dance.”

“Dashed ungentlemanly, if I might say so, ma’am. One does not abandon an appointment with a lady for any reason. Those Americans have a lot to learn about manners.”

“I’m sure the major would have kept his appointment if he’d been able to do so,” Elizabeth said quietly, “which is precisely what worries me.” She headed for the door, trying to ignore the icicles forming in her stomach. “Don’t wait up for me, Martin. Violet and I will probably be late.”

Martin looked surprised. “I wasn’t aware Violet was going to accompany you tonight, madam.”

“She will be at the town hall, helping with the refreshments.” Elizabeth peered at him over her shoulder. “Please don’t do anything too strenuous tonight, Martin. I don’t want you to hurt yourself when there is no one in the house to help you.”

“I’ll do my best not to hurt myself at any time, madam.”

She smiled fondly at him. “Yes, well, you know what I mean.”

“Wait a moment, madam. I’ll get the door for you.”

She waited for him to shuffle toward her, her gaze drifting past him to the stairs leading to the great hall. If only she could see the major’s tall figure striding down those stairs. Impossible, of course, if the Jeeps hadn’t arrived back. Still, it was hard not to hope for a miracle.

Martin finally reached the door and pulled it open. A gust of cool air greeted her as she stepped outside into the darkening evening. Soon the clocks would be turned back an hour, and the evenings would disappear altogether, swallowed up in the winter darkness that could fall as early as four in the afternoon. It was a depressing thought.

The depression weighed heavily on her shoulders as she climbed aboard her motorcycle. Fastening her head scarf more firmly under her chin, she braced herself for the cold ride to the town hall. In spite of the silver fox coat she wore, the wind from the sea would chill her bones. She could only hope that the town hall radiators were working properly and that the dance hall would be warm, though something told her she would not lose the chill over her heart until she saw the burly frame of Major Earl Monroe walking through the door to greet her.

“Look at this. Have you ever seen such a beautiful sight in all your life?” Marlene’s voice was hushed in awe as she gazed around the crowded ballroom.

Polly followed her gaze. “Are you talking about the decorations or the men?”

Marlene grinned. “Both. Just look at those Yanks dance! Our boys can’t dance like that.”

“They’re not even trying.” Polly nodded at the walls lined with British soldiers, most of them with scowls on their faces. “They don’t look very happy, do they?”

“I can see why. What with all the girls out there on the floor with the Yanks. Look, there’s Lilly Crumm. Trust her to grab a Yank.”

“I’m surprised her ma isn’t out there with one, too.” Polly gasped as she watched a tall, skinny American airman swing Lilly through his legs, then up over his back where she was suspended upside down for a heart- pounding second or two before being bounced back on her feet.

“No wonder they call it swing,” Polly murmured. “Them Yanks are swinging the girls all over the place.”

“So where is your Sam, then?” Marlene sent a searching glance around the room. “Can’t see him anywhere.”

Polly’s stomach turned over. “He’s not here yet. Must have been kept late at the base.” She pretended not to notice Marlene’s quick look of concern.

“He’ll probably be here any minute.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” He had to be there. It wouldn’t be the same without him. She’d got all dressed up for him and had put on the nylons he’d got her from the base. She just loved those nylons. She wouldn’t have believed how silky and sheer stockings could be until she’d pulled on one of those filmy, almost transparent scraps of fabric over her legs. Just wearing them made her feel sort of slinky and ritzy.

She’d hitched up the skirt of her pink seersucker frock once she’d left the house and escaped from Ma’s sharp eyes. She didn’t really like the dress. It was too babyish. She’d wanted the black one hanging in Finnegan’s big window, but Ma had put her foot down. Said it was too old for her.

At first she’d sworn never to wear the soppy pink thing. Then Marlene had shown her how to hitch up the skirt and pull the sweetheart neckline down lower, and it hadn’t looked half bad after that. Though she still wished she could have had the black frock.

Idly she watched a good-looking Yank stroll over in her direction. Normally she’d have been all in a tizzy to see a man like that heading toward her. Funny how nobody seemed worth bothering about now that she had Sam. She sent another worried glance at the door. Where the bloody hell was he?

The dark-haired, dark-eyed Yank paused in front of her. She was all set to send him on his way with a polite refusal when he stepped past her and offered his hand to Marlene. “Wanna boogie?”

Marlene’s face turned bright red. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she said nervously.

Polly gave her a mighty shove with her shoulder. “’Course you can do it, silly. Just let him throw you about, that’s all. He has to do all the work.”

The American shot her a grin. “Thanks, babe.” He grabbed Marlene’s hand. “Come on, sugar, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He charged onto the floor, dragging a protesting Marlene behind him.

Polly watched them for a while, forgetting her worries about Sam in the sheer enjoyment of watching her big sister make a proper fool of herself out there.

Marlene looked stiff and awkward as she tried her best to keep up with the Yank, who seemed to be made of rubber the way he was twisting and twirling all around the floor. He spun her around a few times, until she looked really giddy, then grabbed her hands and swung her between his feet.