‘Out you get, ladies. This is the administration block, where you report for duty,’ the chap said. ‘I’d tidy yourselves up before you go in, if I was you.’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ they said in unison. Eddie opened the passenger door and, as the blonde woman had done at the station, swung her legs out, leaving Claire to climb over the seat. Pulling her skirt down so the chap didn’t see her blackouts, Claire almost fell out of the car. Her instinct was to thank him for the lift, but she was so embarrassed by her ungainly exit she ran to Eddie, who was standing by the car’s boot with the kitbags.
‘What did you have to do to get a ride in old Dogsbody’s car?’ a passing WAAF asked as the car sped away.
‘Whose car?’
The WAAF looked at Claire as if she had arrived from another planet, instead of the railway station. ‘That was Acting Squadron Leader Bader. He’s a fighter ace. Didn’t you know?’
‘No,’ Claire said, ‘neither of us knew, did we Ed?’
Eddie shook her head. ‘How kind of him to give us a lift.'
The WAAF guffawed. ‘He wouldn’t have been kind, if you hadn’t been pretty. Come on, I’ll take you in and get you registered, and then I’ll show you where to go for lunch. If you come back here afterwards, I’ll take you to your quarters.’
‘This was on the hall table when I came in,’ Eddie said, as Claire joined her in the billet. ‘It’s addressed to you. I bet it’s the results of your French oral exam.’ Eddie pressed a buff envelope into Claire’s hand and followed her upstairs to their bedroom. ‘Well? Aren’t you going to open it?’
‘Give me time to get through the door.’ After taking off her coat and hanging it up, Claire ran her forefinger along the flap of the envelope and took out a sheet of white paper.
‘Come on, Dudley, don’t keep me in suspense,’ Eddie said. ‘Have you passed?’
‘Yes.’ Claire fell onto the bed and exhaled loudly, making a raspberry sound as air reverberated between her lips. ‘That’s a relief.’
‘What percent?’
‘Does it matter?’ Eddie snatched the letter out of Claire’s hand. ‘Give it back, Ed.’
Eddie sat on the bed beside her. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Would it make any difference if I did?’
‘I knew it. You clever old thing, Dudley.’
‘Flight Officer Manders said I’d be promoted to Aircraftwoman First Class if I passed.’
‘And about beggaring time,’ Eddie said. ‘Come on, let’s celebrate. We’ll go to the dance at the mess hall. There’s a local band on tonight that play jazzy tunes. It’ll be fun.
‘I don’t know, Ed, I’m tired.’
‘Be tired tomorrow. Tonight we’re celebrating.’
‘If you say so. With all the bloody air raids here, I wouldn’t get any sleep anyway.’
‘Good decision, ACW – soon to be First Class – Dudley. You must mark the occasion, you lucky blighter. Not that you don’t deserve it,’ Eddie chatted on. Claire dropped onto the bed and closed her eyes. ‘And, starting now, we have forty-eight hours of glorious leave. You can sleep all day tomorrow if you want, but you are not sleeping now,’ Eddie said, pulling Claire up into a sitting position. ‘We’ll put on our best frocks... Can I borrow your white belt again?’ Opening Claire’s cupboard, Eddie took out the belt. ‘It’ll look top-hole with my pink and white floral. What are you going to wear? I know, the blue,’ she said, before Claire could answer. ‘The skirt on your blue dress was made for dancing,’ she said, twirling round. ‘Oh,’ Eddie stopped suddenly. ‘I almost forgot. A squadron of Canadians arrived today – and they’re all scrumptious.’
Claire laughed. ‘How do you know they’re all scrumptious?’
‘I went up the tower with one of the girls from meteorology. We watched them land, but don’t change the subject! You are coming to the dance, aren’t you? Dudley, don’t be a bore...’
‘All right! Yes!’
Eddie hooted and clapped. ‘That’s settled then. And the best of it is we don’t have to get up early in the morning. I’m going to dance and dance,’ she said, waltzing out of the room.
Eddie was right, the dance was fun. The band played jazzy tunes, as Eddie called them, and there was no shortage of good-looking RAF and RCAF airmen to dance with. Claire danced so much she thought her feet would drop off. At ten o’clock she’d had enough and decided to leave. She scanned the room and spotted Eddie dancing with a Canadian pilot. She caught her friend’s eye and pointed to the door. Eddie waved over the airman’s shoulder as he buried his head in her neck. Claire waved back. Tomorrow, Claire thought, Eddie will be talking about ‘poor Chuck’ or ‘poor Cliff’. Laughing, she pushed her way through crowds of smooching dancers to the cloakroom. She gave the young WAAF on duty her ticket and, goodness knows how, she found Claire’s coat among the dozens of coats hanging up in the small room. After putting it on, Claire made her way to the exit. She had enjoyed the dance, but her mind was on her exam results. A pass meant the RAF Advance Strike Force was now within her grasp.
As Claire reached for the handle of the mess door, it flew open, knocking her off her feet. An RAF pilot ran to her aid, while a couple of handy-looking lads went to the door. ‘Are you hurt, Miss?’
