She was here. Sombre music—a live band, by the sound of it—spilled out from the darkened village hall. It was a standard brick building with criss-crossed anti-blast tape on the outside of the windows and blackouts on the inside. Apart from the music, it appeared quite deserted.
Elsie pulled on the thin brass door-handle and stepped into a small vestibule lit by a weak bulb. She checked herself, held her head high and opened the next set of double doors. Loud music and bright lights greeted her. She removed her coat and stood for a moment, scanning the room for familiar faces. As she looked at each face in turn without recognition—the clusters of women chatting together, the men laughing and munching on food from a long trestle table, the couples whispering and giggling, the band—she had the horrible fear that maybe none of the other girls would be coming after all. Well, she was here now and she was damned well going to have a drink at least.
With a fixed smile, she paced across the room, aware of the looks of approval she was receiving from the men whom she passed, finally arriving at the bar.
‘Gin and lemon, please,’ she ordered from a short, fat man with a large dewlap. He nodded and scuttled off to make the drink.
A shilling was slapped down on the bar beside her. ‘I’ll get this,’ a man’s voice said.
She flicked her head sideways, expecting to see William’s youthful face, but it wasn’t him. It was the profile of a man—vaguely handsome from what she could see—whom she was certain she had never clapped eyes on before. He was holding a cigarette to his lips and staring forwards. He had a neat moustache and oiled-back dark hair. His smart uniform, with impossibly perfect buttons, revealed him to be a pilot in the RAF.
Elsie raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to turn and face her, but he didn’t. If that’s what he wants…she thought, pushing the money back. ‘No, thank you.’ She turned her back to him, facing the empty dance floor, wondering what she had brought herself to: a dance-less dance where she knew nobody. She suddenly felt foolish for coming. Perhaps Agnes had been right, after all: maybe it was too soon.
‘Here you go, love,’ the fat barman said. ‘Sixpence, please.’
The man beside her thrust his money forward again and Elsie was too late to prevent the barman from taking it.
She sighed, took a sip of drink and faced him. ‘The least you could do is to look at me, so that I can thank you.’
The man turned, impassive. He drew on his cigarette at length and stared at her. He wasn’t smiling, yet there was a softness and sparkle in his eyes.
‘Thank you,’ Elsie said. ‘But there was really no need. I have my own money.’
He raised his beer glass. ‘The next one’s on you, then,’ he said, smiling for the first time.
Elsie turned and resumed her search for anyone familiar. Even William would have done at this precise moment. Where was everyone? There weren’t that many people here for them to be lost in the crowd. ‘This will be my last,’ she said finally.
‘Oh, I see,’ the man said, sagely, as if privy to some extra information that she had not divulged.
She watched him grinning again. Stupidly. ‘What do you see?’ Elsie demanded.
‘You’ve been stood up,’ he smirked. ‘Foolish man, in my opinion.’
Elsie held up her left hand. ‘I’m married.’
He shrugged. ‘Then he’s even more foolish to stand you up.’
‘He’s dead,’ Elsie said. She regretted her blunt delivery the very second that the words were out of her mouth.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said, his face compassionate. ‘I didn’t mean any offence.’
With precision timing, the rear doors flew open and in walked a gaggle of girls—Susie, Aileen, Betty, Pat and Lottie—all dressed up to the nines. What an entrance they made! Elsie smiled and hurried over to them.
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ she greeted. ‘I thought you’d deserted me.’
‘We had no idea you were coming,’ Pat said, ‘so sorry.’
‘It’s all a bit solemn,’ Lottie whispered, glancing around the room.
‘What do you expect?’ Susie snapped, ‘they lost four Defiant pilots and six gunners today; they’re hardly going to be hopping and skipping for joy, are they…’
Elsie flushed pink with embarrassment and looked back at the pilot at the bar with a different perspective. She was aware of an animated conversation taking place between the other girls, drawing the attention of those nearby, but Elsie was watching that pilot. He was still there, smoking his cigarette and blankly staring in front of him. Maybe he’d lost friends today. Maybe he’d been up there, witnessing the horror from the skies. It had been awful enough just catching the tail-end of it from the ground.
The chatter and giggling beside her drew even more attention. The pilot turned and caught Elsie staring back at him. She immediately switched her focus to Aileen who was standing beside her, but it was too late, their eyes had locked; he had seen her taking him in. Goodness only knows what he’s thinking now, Elsie thought.
‘Look, we’re here now, let’s make the most of it,’ Pat said. She lowered her voice and added: ‘It’s a terrible thing to say, but there’s a war on—people are dying every day—life goes on. It just has to…’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Susie retorted.
‘Come on, let’s just get a drink,’ Aileen suggested.
Elsie’s ability to vocalise her reluctance to return to the bar was muzzled by Aileen threading her arm through hers and leading the girls across the room in a swift, indomitable wave. They hit the bar
