The Secret of Summerhayes - Merryn Allingham

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surprisingly good. She found herself walking to the rhythm of the notes, the music growing louder as she made her way down the street and turned left into the narrow alley that led to the village green and the hall at its western edge. She was brought up short by seeing a sizeable group of soldiers gathered outside the building. All of them were carefully groomed and pressed, their shoulder flashes bearing the single word Canada, and their uniforms barely distinguishable from their British counterparts’, except for a better material and a more stylish cut. She was unsure whether or not to go on, and the men seemed equally uncertain, loitering outside the entrance. Then the door was flung open and May stood on the threshold. Several young girls in their best frocks appeared in the doorway beside her.

      ‘Bethany, you’ve come.’ Her friend peered through the darkness at her. ‘It’s good to see you. And you chaps,’ she said to the hesitating soldiers, ‘do come in.’

      ‘Yes, please come in. We need you to get the dance going,’ one of the girls said. And that seemed sufficient invitation for the men to throw away their cigarettes and a trifle sheepishly allow themselves to be escorted inside.

      The red, white and blue bunting used on the village green for every Empire Day since the turn of the century had been strung from beam to beam along the walls and across the ceiling. It gave the hall the look of a liner about to set sail. The old-fashioned wall brackets had been draped with branches of forsythia, and the lights shining through the foliage bounced a bright yellow around the walls and splashed the floor with colour. Each wooden board had been brought to sparkling life, every inch diligently polished with beeswax from the local hives. That must have hurt a few knees, was Beth’s first thought.

      May pressed a glass of homemade lemonade into her hand. ‘Nothing stronger, I’m afraid. Not at the moment. The men are sure to produce something more exciting once they relax.’

      ‘They do seem a little stiff.’

      ‘Shy, would you believe? But the lasses will untie their tongues.’

      She wondered what else would be untied during the evening. Already several of the young women wore flushed faces and one of them sported a blouse half unbuttoned from her exertions.

      ‘Great to see you, Miss Merston. I hoped you’d come.’

      It was Eddie Rich, freshly laundered, and looking as handsome as a Greek god. She glanced in the direction from which he’d come and saw Jos Kerrigan standing in the shadow of a supporting pillar, his face devoid of expression.

      Eddie took hold of her hand. ‘And you’re tapping your feet already. Definitely time to dance.’ She was reluctant to agree; it was just what she’d feared, having to dance beneath an unfriendly gaze. But before she could refuse, Eddie had propelled her onto the dance floor where the band had changed rhythm and was playing a quickstep. For several seconds, she felt her feet fumbling for the steps, but he was an excellent dancer and it took only a short while for her to be skimming smoothly across the polished floor.

      ‘Hey, you’re a real shincracker, Miss Merston.’

      ‘A good dancer? I’ve a very good partner. And please call me Beth. Miss Merston is beginning to sound odd.’

      ‘Beth it is,’ he said, steering her around the curve of the dance floor and narrowly missing a frowning Jos. She looked up at her partner and smiled. In this light, Eddie’s eyes were almost golden. He was impossibly good looking, but he posed no threat to her peace of mind and she felt herself relax into his friendly clasp.

      ‘I hoped you’d find time to come tonight,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to see a familiar face.’

      ‘I’ll always find time for dancing.’

      ‘Even after today’s exercise?’

      ‘It was tiring, sure, but we’re pretty well settled at Summerhayes now. It’s beginning to feel like home. But you didn’t bring Ralph with you and I was looking forward to seeing him.’

      ‘I didn’t mention the dance to him, but in any case I doubt he’d be allowed to come.’

      ‘That’s a pity, but it won’t stop us. And if my ear is tuned right, the fun’s just beginning. It’s the jitterbug.’

      ‘You dance that?’

      ‘Don’t I just. And if you don’t know it, I’ll teach you.’

      And when the band began to play, she found herself being pushed this way and that, twisting and turning to the beat, so that in a short time she was completely breathless. ‘I shall be begging for mercy any moment,’ she said, tipping her head back and laughing aloud.

      ‘No mercy. Not from this guy.’ Eddie, too, was laughing.

      But when the jitterbug music faded and the band segued into a foxtrot, Eddie whirled her towards the side of the room. Only fair, she thought. There must be plenty of girls he wanted to dance with, and she couldn’t cling to him as her one and only friend of the evening.

      Small groups of soldiers were gathered around the edge of the dance hall, talking, smoking, some drinking. She noticed that several bottles of whisky had made their appearance alongside the lemonade. The evening could be heading towards rowdiness, and that would be the time to leave. Skilfully, Eddie weaved a path through the slow-moving couples, pivoting her across miraculously opened spaces to the very edge of the dance floor. With one last twirl, he bumped her to the side of the room and into Jos Kerrigan. Kerrigan’s face remained impassive, his features moving not a jot, even when a warm Beth was spun into his arms. But instinctively he put out his hands to catch her.

      ‘Go, guy. Enjoy the dance,’ was Eddie’s parting injunction, as he cut across the floor towards the glamorous redhead he must have spied earlier.

      Beth tried to disentangle herself, growing hotter by the second. ‘I’m sorry. Eddie is…’

      ‘Eddie is a menace.’ His tone was surprisingly gentle. ‘But he’s set us up to dance, so why don’t we?’

      She could think of several reasons but she liked the way he was holding her. And liked fresh tangy scent. Slightly dazed, she nodded agreement and together they slipped back into the mingle of dancers. The rhythms of a slow foxtrot allowed her to catch her breath, though not for long. Dancing with Jos Kerrigan, she found, was not conducive to a stable pulse. Whereas Eddie had been fun, flinging her this way and that but never once losing the beat, Jos held her close, as though she were something precious. And while she danced with him, she felt she was. The slow, sensual rhythm gradually entwined them, their warmth seeping into each other. It was the oddest feeling, as though their individual bodies had become a single entity, wrapped and enclosed within the strains of the music. She daren’t look at him to discover whether he felt it too, but instinct told her he must.

      They were coming to the end of the dance; the music faded and the band readied themselves for a new number. He still held her close and, shamefully, she wanted nothing more than to stay right where she was. But a disturbance behind them made them both turn. A man was pushing his way across the dance floor to reach them.

      ‘I thought it was you, Bethany. I spotted you from the doorway. Sorry I’m a bit late, a last-minute hitch, but why didn’t you telephone? You should have let me call for you.’ Gilbert nodded briskly at Jos, as though he had only just noticed him.

      Jos allowed his arms to drop and she felt the coldness they left behind. She wanted to say something, something to rescue the moment, but her mind was empty. In the awkward pause, Gilbert took his chance and reached for her hand. ‘Shall we?’

      She looked for Jos, but he had turned on his heels and was lost once more among the smokers and whisky drinkers.

      ‘A waltz,’ Gilbert said. ‘How traditional, but very enjoyable.’

      She had to acknowledge that he was a decent dancer, but the magic of the evening

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