“He’s her childhood sweetheart,” Reed put in, “and she’s made up her mind to marry him, so she isn’t interested in other men.”
Fairchild sat up, looking indignant. “I didn’t say I was going to marry him. I said I was in love with him. I’ve loved him since I-”
“Since you were six and he was twelve,” Talbot said. “We know. And when he sees you all grown up he’s going to fall madly in love with you. But what if he doesn’t?”
“And how do you know you’ll still be in love with him when you see him again?” Reed said. “You haven’t seen him in nearly three years. It might have only been a schoolgirl crush.”
“It wasn’t,” Fairchild said firmly.
Talbot looked skeptical. “You can’t know that for certain unless you go out with other men, which is why you need to go to the dance with me. I’m only thinking of your welfare-”
“No, you’re not. Kent, I’d be delighted to switch shifts with you.” She punched her pillow into shape, lay down, and closed her eyes. “Good night all.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re going with me, Kent.”
“Oh, but I-”
“It’s your duty to go. After all, it’s your fault I lost the pool and haven’t any stockings.”
The siren went, making it impossible to talk. Good, Mary thought, it will give me a chance to think of an excuse, and when it wound down, she said, “I haven’t anything to wear. I lent both of my dancing frocks to Parrish and Maitland, and the Yellow Peril makes me look jaundiced.”
“The Yellow Peril makes everyone look jaundiced,” Talbot said. “You won’t need a dancing frock. This is a canteen dance. You can wear your uniform.”
“Where’s it being held?” she asked, thinking, If it’s in Bomb Alley, I’ll have to pretend I’m ill on Saturday.
“The American USO in Bethnal Green.”
Bethnal Green. So she could finally go look at the railway bridge and stop worrying over whether she could trust her implant. She should be able to sneak away from the dance easily-Talbot would be busy trying to wheedle nylons out of her Yanks-and it was perfect timing. The only V-1s that had fallen on Bethnal Green on Saturday were in the afternoon.
“Very well, I’ll go,” she said, congratulating herself on her cleverness and wondering if she could persuade one of the soldiers at the dance to take her to Grove Road in his Jeep, but at two Saturday afternoon Talbot said, “Aren’t you ready, Kent?”
“Ready? I thought the dance wasn’t till tonight.”
“No. Didn’t I tell you? It begins at four, and I want to be there before all the best Yanks are taken.”
“But-”
“No excuses. You promised. Now hurry, or we’ll miss our bus,” and dragged her off to the bus stop.
Mary spent the ride to Bethnal Green listening anxiously for the sound of a washing machine or an angry hornet and looking for nonexistent street signs. One of the V-1s had fallen at 3:50 in Darnley Lane and the other at 5:28 in King Edward’s Road. “What street is the USO canteen in?” she asked Talbot.
“I can’t remember,” Talbot said. “But I know the way,” which was no help.
“This is our stop,” Talbot said. They descended on a street lined with shops.
Good, Mary thought. This can’t be Darnley Lane. Darnley Lane was a residential street. She glanced at her watch. Five minutes to four. The 3:50 had already hit.
She looked up and down the street. She couldn’t see any sign of a railway bridge, so apparently this wasn’t Grove Road either. She hoped it wasn’t King Edward’s Road. And that the Darnley Lane one had already hit. She didn’t hear any ambulance bells, or an all clear.
“It’s a bit of a hike, I’m afraid,” Talbot said, setting off down the street.
Mary glanced up at the sky again, listening. She thought she could hear something to the southeast.
“What sort of men do you like?” Talbot asked.
“What?” The sound was a hum, rising to a steady wail. The all clear. And seconds later, she heard a fire engine.
“I don’t know why they even bother with an all clear,” Talbot said exasperatedly. “They’ll only have to sound the alert again five minutes from now.”
No, not for an hour and a quarter, and by then they’d be at the dance, and she’d have been able to ask one of the USO people the canteen’s address and make certain it wasn’t on King Edward’s Road. And she’d have been able to ask them how she could find Grove Road. “Sorry, what were you saying before?”
“I was asking you what sort of men you like,” Talbot said. “When we get there, I’ll introduce you to some of the chaps I know. Do you like them tall? Short? Younger men? Older?”
Every man at this dance will be at least a hundred years too old for me, Mary thought. “I’m not really interested in-”
“You’re not in love with someone, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. I don’t approve of people being in love during a war. How can anyone plan for the future when we don’t know if we’ll have one? When I was posted to Bournemouth, one of the girls got engaged to a naval officer who was on a destroyer guarding convoys. She worried herself sick about him, spent all her time devouring the newspapers and listening to the wireless. And then she was the one killed, driving an officer back to Duxton Airfield. And now with these flying bombs, any one of us might be killed at any minute.”
She turned down a narrow lane lined with shops with boarded-up windows. “I tried to tell Fairchild that, the little goose. She’s not really in love, you know. Where’s my lipstick?” She fumbled in her bag for it as she walked. “Where is my compact? May I borrow yours?”
Mary obligingly dug in her bag. “Never mind,” Talbot said, walking over to the one shop window which still had glass in it. She took the cap off her lipstick and twisted the base. “It will never work. He’s years older than she is.” She leaned forward to apply the lipstick in the window’s reflection. “You know the sort of thing, older boy worshipped by younger girl…”
“Mmm,” Mary said, listening to the ragged putt-putt of an approaching motorcycle coming down the street they’d just left.
Talbot didn’t seem to notice, even though she had to raise her voice over its noise. “She has some fairy-tale notion that he’ll see her in her uniform, all grown up, and realize he’s always loved her, even though she still looks fifteen.” She was nearly shouting, the motorcycle was so loud. The sound echoed rattlingly off the shops in the narrow lane. “She’s determined to have her heart broken.” She pursed her lips as she applied the Crimson Caress. “He’s in the RAF, after all, not exactly the safest of jobs.”
The sound of the motorcycle grew deafeningly loud and then shut off abruptly. That’s not a motorcycle. That’s a V-1, Mary thought.
And then, It can’t be, it’s only a quarter past four.
And then, What if my implant data’s wrong after all?
And then, Oh, God, I’ve only got fifteen seconds.
“And what if he doesn’t fall into Fairchild’s arms as planned?” Talbot said, leaning toward the window to appraise the effect. “Or his aeroplane crashes?”
Oh, God, the glass! Mary thought. She’ll be cut to ribbons. “Talbot!” she shouted and made a running dive at her, tackling her, flinging her off the curb. The lipstick flew out of her hand.
“Ow! Kent, what do you think you’re-?” Talbot said.
“Stay down!” She pushed Talbot’s head down into the gutter, flattened herself on top of her, and closed her eyes, waiting for the flash.
The girls won’t leave without me, and I won’t leave without the King. And the King will never leave.