Beauty Chorus, The (7 page)

‘Thank you, I’ll try and find her.’

‘Now, if you follow Mikki you’ll be given a numbered flight authorisation card and chits for your uniform. As a cadet you’ll have a single half stripe.’

‘Oh.’ Evie longingly eyed the numerous braid stripes adorning his shoulders.

‘Mikki will also sort out your medical and give you the address of your billet.’

‘My billet? No, that won’t be necessary, I plan to live at home.’

‘Miss Chase, we are a small operation here. At first, it would do you well to muck in a bit, prove to the girls you’re one of the team.’

Evie frowned, but she understood what he was talking about. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘This is the address where you will be billeted. The other new girls have gone over already. It’s a pretty little estate cottage, and we have several pilots staying close by.’
He paused, eyed Evie’s mink coat and muddy high heels. ‘But it might be rather more basic than you are used to.’

Still smarting from the indignity of the medical Doc Barbour had subjected her to, Evie went to the mess for a restorative cup of tea. Jean the tea lady looked up from wiping
the counter.

‘Yes, love, what’ll it be?’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything stronger than orangeade hidden back there?’ Evie leant against the counter with her arms folded protectively across her chest.

‘Now, you’ll get me in trouble!’ Jean tossed her head back as she laughed. ‘You’re new aren’t you?’

Evie introduced herself as Jean poured the tea. ‘I’ve just had my medical.’ She cupped her hands around the tea to warm up.

Jean clucked her tongue. ‘What you want is a spot of brandy in that then.’ She folded her arms over her ample bosom and leant closer to Evie. ‘Don’t take it personal,
love. Men, women, old Doc Barbour gets them all in their birthday suits. They say,’ she whispered, ‘he likes them blue movies too.’ She leant back, pursed her lips disapprovingly
and patted her turban.

‘He had the cheek to say I’m too short for the ATA.’ Evie bit her lip. ‘Still, he passed me anyway.’

‘Well, you’re through the worst of it now, Miss. Welcome on board.’

Evie frowned. She hoped Jean was right, but she had a feeling this was just the beginning.

5

‘Damn it, where is this place?’ Evie said as the Aston crawled along Cox Green Lane. In the failing light and the thin beams from her blacked-out headlights she
could see no sign of the farm. As she passed the same cottage for a second time, she spotted a chink of light coming from a tear in the blackout curtains on the ground floor, and she pulled to a
halt to ask directions.

Evie shivered as she clambered out of the car, her shoes sliding on the frozen road. ‘Beehive Cottage.’ She read the name on the gate as she walked gingerly up to the front door.
Deep scratches gouged the wood and she hesitated before ringing the bell. As it rang, a wild growl and the sound of frantic claws greeted her from behind the door. She could have sworn she heard a
monkey too.

‘Get down, Spot!’ she heard a deep male voice call out. She stepped back uncertainly as the bolt on the door slid. An attractive man still in his uniform popped his head around the
corner. ‘Can I help you?’

Evie’s eyes widened in horror at the sound of a low, threatening yowl. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting?’

‘No, no, not at all.’ He disappeared again. ‘I told you, Spot, if you start playing up again, I’ll—’

‘I’m awfully sorry to disturb you.’ Evie started edging her way back down the path, but froze as the front door swung open. ‘What on earth?’ she cried, as a cheetah appeared at his side.

‘Don’t worry about this chap.’ The man affectionately patted his head. ‘This is Spot.’

Evie moved closer. ‘May I?’

‘Oh yes, he loves a good ear rub, don’t you, Spot?’

‘He’s beautiful.’ She laughed delightedly as he leant into her hand, the fur on the tight, strong skull soft against her fingertips.

‘He’s a very naughty boy, that’s what he is. Knocked the Hatchard’s Dairy boy clean off his pony today, didn’t you, Spot?’

‘Are you a pilot?’ Evie asked.

‘Yes. I’m Harben. Everyone calls me Bill.’ He offered her his hand.

‘I’ve just joined the ATA myself.’

‘Oh, well, you’ll appreciate this.’ He unhooked a framed photo from the wall. ‘Here’s Spot with Pop d’Erlanger.’

‘Friends in high places?’ Evie handed the photo back. ‘I’m trying to find my billet. Is there a farm near here?’

‘Yes, you missed the turning about quarter of a mile back. It’s not marked now they’ve taken all the signposts down.’

‘Ah.’ Evie nodded. ‘That explains it.’

‘Head down Highfield Lane, there’s a stile just opposite the turning,’ he called after her. ‘Can’t miss it!’

‘Wouldn’t bet on it.’

‘Toodle-oo.’ He waved, and the lane fell into darkness as he closed the door.

The Aston bumped along a rutted farm track, the headlights weakly illuminating an overgrown path. If the farmer himself hadn’t told her the cottage was down here, Evie
would have thought she was driving into the middle of nowhere. Then, up ahead, she saw a sliver of light around the door of an old stone house with blackout blinds and criss-crossed tape on the
downstairs windows. She parked up outside and knocked on the door. She could hear a radio playing somewhere in the house and when no one answered she pushed the door open.

‘Hello?’ she called. The smell of musty air made her screw up her nose. It was also bitterly cold, though someone had lit the wood-burning stove in the hearth. Boards creaked
upstairs, so, feeling her way in the weak light shed by the bare bulb that hung from the centre of the living room, she trod carefully up the staircase. ‘Hello?’ she called again.

Stella popped her head around the door. ‘Oh, well done! We were just saying we hoped you’d get in too. What do you think of this place?’

‘Bit cronky isn’t it?’

‘Oh I think it’s just lovely!’ Megan skipped out onto the landing. ‘I’m so excited, I’ve never been away from home before, and look at this place! We’re
going to have so much fun.’

Evie looked doubtful as she ran her finger through the dust on the banister, and wondered if she could persuade Leo’s housekeeper to give it the once-over.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Stella said. ‘We’ll get this place shipshape in no time.’

‘Where’s my room?’ Evie asked.

Stella pointed to the end of the corridor. ‘Sorry, we bagged the two doubles.’

‘Well, you were here first.’ She shrugged. As she pushed open the door and flicked on the light, something scuttled across the floor. Evie screamed.

‘What is it?’ Megan raced to her side.

‘It was a rat! An enormous rat, and it’s under my bed!’

Megan squatted down. She could see a small brown mouse nosing its way into a hole in the skirting board. ‘It’s alright, it’s gone. Have you never seen a mouse before?’
She laughed as Evie shook her head. ‘Well it’s a good sign. If we’ve got mice, then there aren’t any rats. The mice always move out once they move in.’

Evie took a step forward into the tiny single room, and sat on the bed. The old mattress protested, bed frame squeaking, and she winced as springs dug into her bottom. She took a speculative
bounce.

‘Listen, I’m going up to the farm to get some milk,’ Megan said. ‘Maybe they’ve got a cat they can loan us for a bit.’

‘I’ll give you a lift.’ Evie pulled her coat around her.

‘Aren’t you staying?’ Megan looked disappointed.

‘I haven’t got my things with me.’

‘Oh, right. Does your family live close by then?’

‘My father has a house the other side of Maidenhead.’

‘And your mother?’

‘Stepmother. My real mother left shortly after I was born.’

‘You poor thing. I don’t know what I’d do without my ma.’ Megan squeezed her arm. ‘Gosh,
that coat feels amazing!’

‘Mink.’ Evie regarded it vaguely.

‘You must be loaded!’

Evie thought for a moment. ‘Yes, I suppose I am. Or I was.’

After dropping Megan at the farm, Evie sped back along the dark winter lanes to her father’s house, moonlight gleaming on the elegant wheel arches of the car. The
camouflage paintwork Leo had insisted on as a precaution left the house just visible in the half light as she pulled into the long driveway. For the first time, she looked at everything Leo had
achieved with the eyes of a stranger.
Loaded
, she thought.

She rang the bell, and the butler soon answered.

‘Hello, Ross, is Daddy at home?’

‘No, Miss Evelyn, he’s working late in London tonight.’ He caught her mink as she shrugged it from her shoulders.

Working late
, she thought to herself. She knew what that meant. He was probably in the 400 Club with some girlfriend. Last time she had been to the 400, the maître d’ had
diplomatically warned her that Leo was there somewhere. Everyone seemed surprised that she took her father’s girlfriends in her stride. It was Virginia she couldn’t stand. Just at that
moment, her stepmother strode through from the living room, her silk palazzo pants rippling as she moved, a long rope of pearls swinging from her neck.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded. ‘You’re not staying?’

‘Why on earth would I want to be here with you,’ Evie said, ‘when I can be having a super time in the most delightful little cottage with the other pilots?’

‘Men?’

‘No, not men. Typical you to think of sex.’ Evie started upstairs. ‘I’ve just come to get my clothes.’

‘So you’re going ahead with it? Leo’s furious. I tried to calm him down, but he’s quite beside himself you know. What shall I tell your father?’

‘Tell him they said I was born to fly,’ she called over her shoulder.

‘Château Lafite 1926?’ Stella turned the label of the wine bottle to the light. ‘This looks expensive.’ As she replaced it on the coffee table,
the flames illuminated the glass.

‘Daddy won’t miss it.’ Evie was still smarting from her run-in with Virginia and she chewed angrily at her lip. She hoped her father would come round to the idea. She stretched
her stockinged feet towards the fire and took a sip of the deep red wine. ‘It was a good year, apparently, not that I know much about these things. He laid down a few cases for my
twenty-first. I’m just celebrating a bit early. We deserve it after the day we’ve had.’ On the kitchen counter next to the remains of the bread and cheese they had bought from the
farmer, there were several other bottles liberated from the Chase cellars. ‘Sure I can’t tempt you?’ she asked Megan.

‘No thanks. Methodist, you know,’ she said smiling. ‘Puss, puss.’ Megan was curled up on the hearth rug, tempting a cross-looking one-eyed ginger tom with a piece of
cheese. As her hand edged closer, he hooked it out of her fingers, catching her with his claws. ‘Ow!’ She sucked the blood from her fingertip. The cat hissed and retreated into a dark
corner. ‘He’s not very friendly is he?’

‘What were you expecting? Some darling little kitten with a ribbon around its neck to go with the heavenly cottage?’ Stella said drily.

‘I think we should call him Stalin,’ Evie said. ‘He’s red, and he’s clearly a bit of a dictator.’

‘Well, as long as he keeps the mice out I don’t care what he’s called,’ Megan said. ‘Stalin it is. I’ll get hold of some fish heads for him in the
morning.’

‘Talking of which, we should sort out who’s doing what around here. What are you good at?’ Stella asked Evie. ‘You look like shopping might be your forte.’

Evie frowned, then realised Stella was teasing her. ‘As it happens, it is a strength. Why don’t I take care of the groceries and cooking?’ She picked up a dusty copy of
Wartime Cookery
from the table and flicked through the pages. ‘What do you fancy girls … tripe and liver hotpot?’

‘Tripe? Yuck.’ Stella screwed up her face.

‘Maybe not.’ Evie turned the page. ‘Meat and macaroni pie? Pea soup?’

‘That’s more like it.’ Stella sipped her wine. ‘We’ll give you our ration books in the morning. If Evie’s taking care of the cordon bleu, why don’t I
see to the housework and laundry?’ She glanced around the cold and dusty room. The dirt made her anxious. It was as if she could taste the shelter in her mouth again. She took another sip of
wine.

‘And I can do the garden!’ Megan’s face lit up. ‘There’s a smashing little veg patch out back. Come March I can do us some beans, sprouts, leeks—’

‘Digging for victory?’ Evie stood and stretched, handing Stella a ball of wool that had dropped to the floor. ‘What are you knitting?’

It took Stella a moment to realise Evie was talking to her. ‘Oh, it’s a little jacket for my son, David.’

‘You have a baby?’ Evie looked up, surprised.

‘He’s six months old.’ Stella carried on knitting as she talked.

‘Where is he?’

‘With my husband’s parents in Ireland. I thought it would be safer.’

‘Safer? How on earth can you bear to be parted from him?’

Stella flushed, the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘One does what one has to do.’

‘Is your husband fighting?’

‘Richard …’ Stella hesitated. ‘We were in Singapore.’

‘No! How amazing!’ Megan perched on the arm of Stella’s chair. ‘What’s it like?’

Stella thought of the colour, the tropical warmth. ‘It’s beautiful. I was born in India, but I grew up there. Richard was an airman …’

‘Was?’ Evie picked up on her tone.

Stella nodded mutely.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘You must miss your baby too.’

Stella held up the matinee jacket. ‘Me, and every other mother in the country. You know, I had to sew his name into all his little clothes on the boat on the way over. That’s what
they tell you to do in the leaflet about evacuating children. “If you have made private arrangements, send them away immediately.” They make it sound so simple, like you’re
returning a dress that doesn’t quite fit, or a library book.’ Her eyes fell.

‘It must be hard,’ Megan said kindly.

‘They never tell you that, about having a child.’ Stella blinked. ‘When you’re apart it’s like a piece of you is missing. I shouldn’t think that changes if
your child is six months or sixteen. You lose your completeness.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something important, left something vital
somewhere.’ She ran her hand through her hair. ‘Gosh, sorry. Look at me rabbiting on.’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s not like me at all. Must be the wine.’ Stella
glanced at Evie. ‘Thank you. I haven’t relaxed like this for a long time.’