Full circle, p.2
Full Circle, page 2
“What were you doing in there?” asked Alice while serving beans on toast.
“Brooding.”
“What about?”
“Sex.”
“As a whole or just your personal lack of it?” asked Alice with a laugh.
“Both. Remember Polly, the secretary to Mr. Tight-Arse Pinkerton? Well, she died yesterday when her house was hit during an air raid. Apparently her and her fiancé were in bed and decided to forgo the bomb shelter. They both died instantly. I bet they went happy.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose that’s not the worst way to go,” remarked Alice with a smirk, “although it would have been wiser to go to the shelter and carry on with their activities after the raid, would you say?”
“Well, that’s what I was thinking. At least she didn’t die as pure as driven snow, did she? She had been engaged and had sex, unlike yours truly.”
“So what’s your plan, to seduce some unsuspecting bloke before the next raid? We better skip dinner then.”
“Laugh all you want. You have Mr. Married. You won’t die a virgin.”
“Seriously, Lil. What are you going to do? Are you going to jump in the proverbial sack with the first guy you meet just in case you don’t have long to live? Americans are always up for it. They might even give you a bottle of Coca Cola after the deed.”
“I don’t know. I am still working that part out. Let’s go out tonight. Maybe I’ll get lucky.” Lily was already rising from the table and putting her dirty plate in the sink. “There is no time to lose. Put on your dancing shoes Alice.”
“Don’t forget to do the black out before you rush off to the ball, Cinderella. It will be dark soon.”
“As if I could…”
Forgetting to do the blackout was not really an option. England had been doing it since September 1 of 1939 and by now it was a matter of habit for every British citizen to get the heavy, black curtains into place as soon as darkness began to fall and lamps needed to be lit. It wasn’t nearly as inconvenient as dragging their government issued gas masks whenever they went. Many people greatly feared a gas attack, remembering the casualties of the Great War, but the younger generation just found it a nuisance and complained bitterly.
It was easier to fixate on minor irritations like gas masks and food rationing rather than focus on what was going on in the world at the time. The news bulletins on the wireless became more grim by the day and sometimes the girls preferred to just enjoy dance music rather then listen to the catalogue of horrors that were happening all over Europe, and most recently Africa.
Just in the past six months Denmark, Norway, Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg have been invaded by the Germans. Italy had entered the war as Germany’s Allie and the Battle of France was lost before it had ever truly begun. In June, the Germans invaded the Channel Islands off the coast of Britain and then the war truly came home when London was subjected to nightly air raids by the Luftwaffe. Air raid shelters sprung up all over the city and every tube station and cellar was filled with terrified people trying to outsmart death falling from the skies by keeping a stiff upper lip and remaining defiant in the face of possible extinction.
The girls quickly did the blackout, checked their appearance one last time and headed out the door into the gathering darkness. They boarded a bus heading for Kensington and took seats on the lower lever. Lily always loved the top, but these days it was safer to be below. The bus moved slowly through the darkened streets of London relying on its doused headlights to see a few feet ahead. Lily couldn’t help but stare at the burned carcasses of bombed out buildings as they rode through the gloom. She could see the outline of furniture through the demolished walls of flats and people side-stepping piles of rubble as they carefully navigated the streets. Despite the destruction all around them, the citizens of London went about their business as usual. She saw couples walking with their arms wrapped around each other and mothers scolding their children, trying to get them home in time for supper. A couple of servicemen walked briskly, their kit backs slung over their shoulder, the glow of cigarettes visible between their lips.
At last they got off the bus at their stop and walked toward the sand bagged entrance to the club. From the outside it looked deserted and dark, with only a few people milling in front to indicate that it was open for business. The girls walked into the smoky interior of Café Madrid and sat down at a table not too far from the dance-floor. They could see shadowy figures clinging to each other on the dance floor enjoying a few moments of stolen intimacy with a stranger. The place was full of servicemen, most of them enjoying a few more days of freedom before receiving their marching orders. Many of them were discreetly checking out the new arrivals. A sultry blonde in a very low cut red dress was warbling “I’ll be seeing you” on stage. Her very ample breasts were squeezed into a tight and pointy brazier giving them the appearance of loaded guns.
“If those had fire power and were strapped to an airplane, she could defeat the Luftwaffe singlehandedly,” remarked Alice with a glance at the stage. Lily burst out laughing. Alice had a wicked sense of humor, especially when it came to other women.
“May I have this dance?” Lily reluctantly looked away from the singer to find a tall, handsome stranger standing over her.
“This might be my lucky night after all.” She whispered to Alice as she followed her conquest to the dance floor.
Thirty seconds into the dance Lily was fairly sure that if this was her lucky night, it hadn’t begun yet. The lieutenant she was dancing with was as stiff as a board and was shuffling her around the room as if he was hoovering the carpets. She tried making small talk, but all she got was monosyllable answers as “Fred Astaire” watched his feet and tread on hers. To her great relief someone cut in just as she was getting desperate.
“You looked in dire need of rescue,” said the green-eyed stranger who was now expertly twirling her around.
“Thank you. I was. What gave it away?” asked Lily flirtatiously.
“Rescue missions are my specialty. I can always spot a damsel in distress a mile away,” he said as he pulled her closer. Lily was glad that his hands did not stay lower as he danced. She would have been disappointed to find him ungallant after his heroic rescue. She lowered her lashes and took stock of her dance partner. He wasn’t as handsome as the first one, but he possessed something the first one didn’t have. There was a wicked grin on his face and the smile was reflected in his green eyes. They were definitely his best feature. Large, thick lashed and twinkling with humor they instantly drew the eye. He was taller than her, but not very tall with sandy brown hair cut short and a wide mouth that seemed all too ready to smile.
“And do you rescue the ladies anonymously or do you introduce yourself before you flee into the night?” inquired Lily with mock innocence.
“Lieutenant Nicholas McGuire at your service, Milady, of his Majesty’s Royal Air Force. And who might you be?”
“Lily Stratton of his Majesty’s War Office. Are you a Scot then?”
“On my father’s side. I’ve lived most of my life in England though.”
“How long are you in London for?”
“I have two weeks embarkation leave. I am staying with my aunt and uncle right here in Kensington.”
“Where are they sending you?”
“I couldn’t tell you even if I knew. You know that. It’s all very hush-hush and on a need to know basis.”
“I would know that working at the War Office, wouldn’t I?” answered Lily laughing.
When the song came to an end neither one of them moved and they remained in each other’s arms until the next song began. The blond was singing “The White Cliffs of Dover” mournfully up on stage and Lily put her head on Nick’s shoulder enjoying the solid feel of him beneath her cheek. That song always made her sad. She could see Alice dancing with some red-headed officer on the other side of the floor, but she wasn’t really paying attention.
She felt strangely comfortable with Nicholas. He was easy to talk to and their bodies fit together like the pieces of a puzzle as they swayed on the dance floor. She suddenly realized that she was truly enjoying herself and that made her doubly angry when she heard the screeching howl of the air raid siren pierce the music. For a moment she considered ignoring it, but then she remembered Polly and turned to find Alice and grab her gas mask off the chair where she left it.
“I am coming with you. You might need rescuing again and I couldn’t bear it if I wasn’t on-hand.” Nick grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd just as Alice was coming from the other side of the room to meet them at the door. The street was full of people walking briskly towards the bomb shelter located down in the tube station. The sky in the East was lit up by a crimson glow that illuminated the pitch black sky and the ominous drone of war planes could be heard in the distance. They stopped for a moment wondering what had been hit before ducking into the crowded entrance of the shelter. The platform was already packed with people, some coming from pubs and dances and some from their beds still wearing pajamas, yawning and hoping the raid would end soon and they would go back to bed, assuming it was still there.
As the shelter became more crowded, Lily and Nick were pushed into a corner away from Alice who was chatting with someone she knew from the Hospital. Lily found herself looking up into his face in embarrassment as a fat matron in a hideous hat shoved her even closer to him. She could feel the beating of his heart as well as his “admiration” through the thin fabric of her dress. As he lowered his head to kiss her, it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. Lily felt herself melting into him as he put his arms around her and pulled her even closer to him. The fat lady in the ugly hat was giving them a very disapproving stare, but they couldn’t care less. This moment, in a city under siege, was all that counted. In this instant when death was raining from the skies over London Lily felt the most alive she had ever been.
“This is my lucky night after all,” she thought to herself as Nick held her close protecting her from the invisible enemy. They spent another twenty minutes in the shelter until the all clear finally sounded and then everyone began to shuffle out of the station in an orderly manner. They found Alice and made their way out into the night. Distant howling of fire engines could be heard throughout the city and the fires made it light enough to walk without any additional light. They saw some young people heading back to Café Madrid, but the mood had been ruined. A bus would be unlikely at this hour, so they headed home on foot. Nick asked to walk them home and they set out in the direction of Bloomsbury. Alice walked slightly ahead giving Lily and Nick a chance to talk and watching out for a possible bus. It was a long way home.
The next two weeks were the most bitter-sweet Lily had ever known. Nick had escorted her home that night, even after the bus had finally come rumbling down the street covered in dust from the raid and barely illuminating the street before it. He boarded with her and Alice and insisted on seeing them home safely. Once they reached their door, Alice walked in giving them a moment of privacy to say goodnight. It was too late to ask him in, so they parted with a tender kiss and the promise of seeing each other the next day. Nicholas had asked to take her to dinner after work and Lily gladly accepted. She fell asleep replaying their kisses in her mind and looking forward to their date.
Chapter 4
Rebecca stood clutching the pole on the Manhattan bound train and stared out of the grimy window splattered with rain. The weather was as bleak as her mood. Last night she had stayed at work until 11pm and this morning she was tired and cranky from lack of sleep, but mostly from dealing with her pedantic boss who made her re-type the same presentation ten times over until she was satisfied at last. She then had to make three hundred copies for the upcoming seminar on a copier that managed to jam roughly every fifty pages or so and required the assistance of professionals to resume spitting out copies. The only thing that lifted her spirits a little was Lily’s romance with Nick. She was looking forward to seeing what would happen next. Rebecca had gotten used to Lily’s presence in her dreams and her thoughts once she stopped thinking about the weirdness of the situation. She actually enjoyed her nightly forays into Lily’s world. It was certainly a lot more interesting than her own.
Working as an assistant account executive at Wilderman & Brooks advertising agency had seemed like a dream come true at first. Rebecca couldn’t believe that her first job out of college would be at such a glamorous and exciting firm. She was deeply impressed with their offices when she came for her first interview and even more in awe when she came back to meet with her potential boss. The splendor of her office was nothing compared to the fact that at a very young age (Rebecca estimated her to be in her early 30’s) Sarah Blake was a Senior VP at a major advertising house. Becky saw her as a real role model and hoped that she might follow in her footsteps with hard work and dedication. She did the dance of joy when offered the job and went on a night of debauchery with her friends to celebrate. Now, a year and a half later she couldn’t believe how naïve she had been.
Her “dream” job consisted of long hours, endless memos and reports and very little glamour. She was surrounded by catty, single women trying desperately to get ahead and even cattier, frequently gay men, who were temperamental, moody and vengeful. One unguarded comment or a resentful look could be the difference between a promotion to the creative department and the life of an administrative assistant for another year. The clients were even worse. On the rare occasions when she actually got to meet them, they were capricious, unreasonable and inflicted ridiculous deadlines on already over-worked and underpaid account executives. Rebecca supported six account execs, so she was the most over-worked and underpaid of them all.
The only thing she absolutely refused to give up were her Friday nights out with the girls. It was a rotating group of people. There was a core group who came every Friday and then there were the friends and boyfriends who frequently dropped by. They always went to The Wicked Monk or to the Mad Hatter and generally had a great time. Not knowing who would show up was part of the fun. Everyone would leave feeling much better about their unfulfilling jobs and practically non-existent love lives.
Part of Becky’s bad mood was the fact that she wasn’t sure what to do about her predicament. She had grown to hate her job and resent her boss who always seemed to put her down with a smile. Her demands were unreasonable and unfair and Rebecca hated to feel guilty about not coming in during the weekend. Why should she? She wasn’t paid to do it and no one appreciated it anyway. However, if you did not show your face and stay for a few hours on a Saturday, by Monday you were treated like a pariah. One of the things she hated even more than the expectation to give up her personal life was the little menial tasks she was expected to perform. Sarah would call her in and with an apologetic smile ask if Becky would be so kind as to run over to the deli four blocks away to get her a tuna-fish sandwich because the one in the cafeteria did not use solid white tuna. She was frequently sent to Barnes and Nobles, the cleaners and Starbucks to run little errands for the Queen Bee. All these expeditions took time away from her real work and she found herself staying later and later to complete all the paperwork that seemed to reproduce on her desk every time she looked away.
On a more realistic note Rebecca also knew that most of her friends who worked at entry level positions in other fields were equally unhappy. After getting a college degree and thinking they were actually worth something, most of them were treated more like gophers rather than the competent and intelligent young people they were. Emma was slaving away at a publishing house and Rachel worked as a paralegal for a hot-shot real estate attorney. None of them ever saw the light of day except on weekends and national holidays.
They complained to each other bitterly over endless cups of coffee, Chinese take-out and sushi, which they couldn’t really afford on their pittance of a salary. Rebecca had always dreamed of working in advertising so she was at a loss what to do next. Quitting was easy. Finding something better was hard. She thought of Lily and chuckled. Actually her job at the War Office was no better. It sounded glamorous, but in reality Lily typed just as many memos and reports as Rebecca and brought numerous cups of tea to her ill-tempered employer. “At least I don’t have to type on an antiquated typewriter,” Rebecca thought to herself. Having a PC on your desk certainly made life easier.
Rebecca got off at Rockefeller Center and headed to her office. It was terribly muggy and drizzling outside, one of those July days in New York when you are breathing, but not really taking in any air. The only thing she looked forward to on this day was taking a cold shower when she got home and finding out how Lily’s date with Nick went.
