“Well, thank you very much!” she exclaimed, affronted.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said hastily. “You just look a little pale, that’s all.”
“That’s every bit as bad as tired!” Evelyn glared at him. “Are you saying I look like an old hag?”
She swung around and marched to the small mirror that hung on the wall a few feet away.
“Evelyn, I don’t think you will ever look like an old hag,” Fred announced. “You’re beautiful, and you know it.”
She frowned and examined herself in the small, cheap mirror. He was right. She did look tired and pale. Who would have thought that a week in France and three days of code recognition would take so much out of her? Lifting her hands, she pinched her cheeks to try to get more color into them, noting the dark shadows under her eyes. As she did so, Fred’s face appeared in the mirror next to hers.
“Darling, I really didn’t mean it. You’re beautiful.”
Evelyn met his worried gaze in the glass and smiled.
“But I’m not looking up to my usual standards. No, you’re right. I do look tired.” She sighed and turned away from the mirror, going back to the desk and dropping into her chair. She leaned her head back and stared up at him. “If I’m like this now, whatever will I look like if this war finally gets going?”
“You’ll bloom!” Fred said promptly. “You’ve been working very hard. You’re always off somewhere training someone. I’m glad you got some time off to enjoy yourself in Paris. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t suppose that Lacey chap would have, would he?”
“No. I don’t suppose he would have,” she said with a small smile.
“You missed a jolly good party at the officers’ last night,” he said, returning to his perch on the edge of her desk.
“Did I? Was anything broken?”
Before he could answer, a knock fell on the door. She called to enter and a young WAAF came in bearing a tray with a teapot and cups and saucers.
“Tea, ma’am,” she said smartly.
Evelyn got up and met her to take the tray. “Thank you.”
The WAAF nodded and saluted, then turned to leave the office, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Nothing was broken. Only a few hearts,” Fred said with a wink.
“Then was it really even a party?” she demanded with a laugh, carrying the tray over to the desk and setting it down. “Didn’t someone knock over a table at the last one? I could swear you told me something like that.”
“It wasn’t a table. It was the punch bowl.” Fred grinned. “Nothing so exciting last night, but there was a fantastic band. Oh! Have you heard the news?”
“What news?” Evelyn poured out a cup of tea and handed it to him.
“Thanks. We’ve finally gone and done it!”
She looked at him blankly. “Sorry? Who’s gone and done what?”
“England. The RAF. Us. We’ve finally done it!” His eyes were shining and Evelyn recognized the look in them. It was a look she’d seen in Robbie’s eyes countless times when talking about his flying. It was a look of unsuppressed excitement.
“What have we finally done? Really, Fred, sometimes you’re worse than a child!”
Her dancing eyes and fond smile took the sting out of her words as he grinned, unrepentant.
“We’ve gone and bombed Hörnum. It’s a German airfield on some island or other.”
“Sylt.”
“Pardon?”
“The island of Sylt,” she said, sitting down with her tea. “It’s where Hörnum is.”
“Then you know of it?” he asked, his eyebrows raising. “I had to look it up.”
Evelyn shrugged. She knew all about the raid on Hörnum. She’d heard about it while she was still in Paris, but she couldn’t very well take the wind out of his sails.
“What happened?”
“Fifty of our bombers flew over there and bombed them.” Fred sipped his tea. “With bombs! Not bloody pamphlets! We’ve finally started showing some teeth. After all the convoys and patrols Jerry’s been bombing, we’re finally dishing some of it back.”
“I’m not sure we should be so happy about that,” Evelyn murmured.
Fred stared at her. “Why on earth not?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to fly over Germany and Poland? They don’t exactly roll out the welcome mat. We’ve been sending over pilots with nothing but paper. They could be killed all for a cargo full of pamphlets saying we’re right and Hitler’s wrong!”
She sighed and nodded. “Yes. I know. I realize that, of course.”
“Evie, don’t you realize what this means? It means that we’re finally going to get to do something other than fly useless training exercises. I’ll be able to see action at last!”
Evelyn looked at him and saw the unbridled excitement in his eyes. She understood what it meant, all too well. But did he?
“Is that what you want?” she asked.
“Doesn’t every pilot?” he replied. “I want to get up there and give Jerry what for! And I’ll wager so does your Miles Lacey, and so does every other pilot worth his salt. They can’t be allowed to just take whatever they want.”
She nodded. Of course he did, and he was right. It was what he, Miles, Robbie and hundreds of others had been trained to do. And they wanted to do it. They wanted to fight for their country. Everyone in England did. So why was she suddenly so unenthusiastic?
“You’re right,” she said. “I just worry about what the war will bring now that the weather is improving.”
“You worry too much,” he told her with a wink. “It’s because you work too hard. I think you need some time off. Come out to dinner with me tonight.”
“I just had a week off!” she protested. “I can hardly claim to be overworked after traipsing off to Paris, can I?”
“All right. You’re a slug who wastes her days,” he retorted, finishing his tea and sliding off her desk. “In which case, you need someone to keep you in line.”
“And that’s you?” she asked with a laugh.
He grinned and reached for
