LITMIR.BIZ

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from the shower room to join them. ‘Anyone got a spare towel? I dropped mine and it’s too wet to dry my hair. I can’t go into the lecture room with water dripping down my neck.’

      A dry towel was produced and Ella sat vigorously rubbing her short fair hair while the others talked of the various nationalities that might turn up at the base’s Saturday night dance. For many of them this dance would be the first frivolous evening they had spent in some time.

      ‘Any POWs coming?’ one of the girls asked, stunning her companions into silence.

      ‘Prisoners? My mother would have a fit. They’re the enemy.’

      ‘They’re human beings,’ said Rose. ‘My brother was a POW in Germany,’ and then she laughed.

      ‘What’s funny, Rose? Being a prisoner anywhere isn’t funny.’

      ‘Sorry, Ada, I was about to say my brother would have loved to go to a dance. He’s a good dancer. Then I remembered there weren’t any women in the camps and he wouldn’t have danced with a man for all the tea in China.’

      ‘Funny things, men,’ said Ada. ‘God bless them every one.’

      ‘My hair’ll do, girls. We’d better get off to the canteen or we won’t have time to have a decent meal before the lecture.’

      The lecture turned out to be three short films on the care and maintenance of military vehicles, including motorcycles and Churchill tanks.

      ‘Good Lord,’ said Ella, as they walked home in the gathering darkness, ‘from the sublime to the ridiculous. You take it all in, Rose?’

      ‘Absolutely. I would love to drive one of those giants. The Churchill must be named after the Prime Minister, don’t you think? I’ll ask if I can work on one of them.’

      ‘You’re going to be lucky to get to work on a beaten-up old ambulance. Got any idea of the cost of one of them tanks?’

      Ada joined Ella in teasing Rose. ‘You joined the wrong branch of the service, chum, if you’re set on driving. Maintenance only gets to keep them running.’

      ‘I can hope.’

      They stopped walking so suddenly that they bumped into one another. ‘Didn’t you ask to be a mechanic, Rose?’

      ‘No, when I was joining I did ask about being a driver but when we took the tests the marks I got showed that maintenance is where I’m best suited. Aptitude, they call it.’

      ‘But you can drive?’

      ‘I told you that already, Vera. I’ve been driving since I was ten – tall for my age – but our dad and my brothers – had three of them – taught my sister and me how to repair and maintain.’ She stopped talking, wondering if it would be thought boastful to show her pride in her twin sister. In for a penny? No, another time.

      The women walked on without speaking, quite happy to be tired and to know that they had done their best all day and had, perhaps, improved their skills. They reached their Nissen hut and Ella startled Rose by breaking the silence.

      ‘Any of these gorgeous brothers of yours available?’

      ‘For what?’ Rose asked without thinking.

      The others laughed; when she realised what Ella meant, Rose laughed too. ‘Sam’s spoken for,’ she said. ‘No wedding yet, but soon, we hope. Phil’s available but he’s a sailor and you’ll have to catch up with him. We never know where he is until he’s been – if you know what I mean.’

      ‘Hope he’s nowhere near Malta. It’s really getting a battering. You don’t believe the Germans would really try to starve a whole island to death, do you?’

      ‘Awful things happen in wars – on every side,’ said Vera in the voice of someone who has seen and heard everything.

      ‘Put the kettle on, somebody,’ called a voice from a bed near the door, ‘and come in or stay out, but make up your minds.’

      Calling out apologies, they hurried inside, closing the door behind them. A few girls appeared to be asleep; others were sitting up in bed, reading magazines or writing letters.

      ‘Last one in makes the cocoa,’ called out the first voice, and soon the hut was quiet as some busied themselves with ironing uniforms, polishing shoes, or putting in curlers, making and serving cocoa to their roommates, just a few of the tasks that had to be done every night before sleep claimed them.

      Rose was drifting off when she heard a voice from a bed near her. ‘You told us about two of your brothers, Rose. Is the third one available?’

      The question brought back all the grief and sorrow caused by Ron’s death. How to answer? Pretend to be asleep? Would the question be asked again in the morning?

      ‘Afraid not, Ella. He’s unavailable.’

      ‘Shame, but who knows, maybe the answer to a maiden’s prayer will be at the dance on Saturday.’

      ‘Shut up and let people sleep or you’ll be unable to walk, never mind dance.’

      Rose did not recognise that harsh voice but she did agree with her sentiments. Happily so did Ella.

      Saturday came and the Nissen hut was full of excitement as the young women prepared to have a wonderful time at the rare social evening. Flora had persuaded Rose to take the pretty dress with her and, although she had worried that the dress might make her remember the embarrassing conversation with Stan, Rose had packed it – after all, she had no idea what she might be doing in the next few months. She did think of Stan, but that was because – at long last – a letter from him had arrived, and not because seeing the dress made her sad. She was delighted to have something both new and pretty to wear.

      Short and sweet, said Rose to herself as she reread Stan’s letter – a bit like you, Stan.

      Dear Rose,

      I got your letter. It was great to hear from you. I heard from a lad in my squad that ATS takes the same ranks as regular army so we’ll both be privates by now, unless you’ve gone to be an officer and if you have, and you should, I’ll be thrilled for you. I’ll even salute. That would be so easy, as I’ve looked up to you, in more ways than one, all my life. I’ve done basic training and found muscles I never knew I had. They’re quite glad I’m good at gym as there are competitions among the regiments. We’re shipping out, can’t tell you where even if I knew, which I don’t, but please write to me again, Rose.

      I really like being in the army and I hope you do too.

      Stan

      ‘Come on, girls, time to change from pumpkins to Cinderellas.’

      The young women, in varying stages of undress, looked at Ada and laughed.

      ‘Cinderella didn’t change into a pumpkin. It was a coach, all silver and gold and with red plush cushions.’ Ella heard what she was saying and stopped. ‘That didn’t come out right. The pumpkin changed into the coach. Cinderella didn’t change into anything, did she?’

      ‘A beautiful princess,’ answered at least three of the girls.

      ‘And this rich, handsome, completely unattached and therefore available prince fell in love with her,’ said Vera.

      ‘Absolutely. And, who knows, tonight may be the night. Anyone have any lipstick?’ Ella was rooting through a very untidy drawer as she spoke.

      Rose picked up her ATS shoulder bag and took two lipsticks out of it. ‘Almost gone,’ she said as she held them up. ‘Tangee Natural pink in this one and Theatrical Red in this, but I did find refills in Boots.’ She had been delighted to find the Tangee priced at one and ten, but her favourite red had been a whopping five shillings. ‘I get the Theatrical Red first, but you’re all welcome after that.’

      Vera offered the ubiquitous Evening in Paris toilet water, an offer eagerly accepted. Rose slipped on the

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