THE WAR BRIDE CLUB (7 page)

      “Alice, your turn,” she said. “If you think you can beat that.”

      “That old wives tale? Of course I can.” Alice wriggled around before giving them all a wicked grin. “Prepare to gasp, ladies.”

      Madeline held her breath.

      “It can’t be any more naughty than Betty’s story.”

      Betty giggled, her cheeks still flushed. “We’re all married women. There’s no harm in a little chitter chatter.”

      Alice batted her eyelids dramatically and leaned forward.
 

      “Before the war, I was propositioned by a married man.” They gasped collectively. Alice dropped her voice an octave. “He had a Rolls Royce, a moustache and a tailor-made suit.”

      “Did you… take him up on his offer?” June’s voice came out as a gasp.
 

      Alice shook her head. “I was so young, and he was so, so handsome.” She paused and looked down at her hands. “So I went for dinner with him. He even kissed me.” She giggled. “His moustache tickled my lips.”

      They all sat silent.
       

      “He offered me a life as his mistress, with lots of money, and an apartment of my own. But every time I looked at him I thought about his wife,and his wedding ring seemed to glint at me under the light every time I looked up.”

      “So what did you do?”

      Alice grinned. “I was a little tipsy from the wine, but I excused myself to go to the rest room, and then I slipped out the back door and found my way home.”

      Madeline gave Alice a push, but from the serious expression on her face, the story was true.
 

      “You just left him there?” Madeline knew she would never have the nerve to do that, but then she’d probably never have had the nerve to meet him in the first place.
 

      Alice shrugged. “He was a very rich man, and very rich men are hard to say no to.”

      Eagar to shift the attention, Alice swivelled to watch Madeline. The other two did the same.
 

      She felt uncomfortable. It was her turn and she didn’t know what to say. Or she did, but she didn’t want to say it aloud.
 

      “Come on, Mads!”

      “My secret?” she said, gulping a lump of… what? Fear? “I don’t have anything much to call a secret, but, well, I guess there’s something I’m keeping to myself at the moment, if that counts?”

      She looked up as silence surrounded her. The smiles were wavering, unsure of what she was going to say. She could have cut the air with her mother’s cheese knife.
 

      “I’m scared that I’ll get off the ship, that you’ll all run into the arms of your husbands, and there’ll be no one waiting for me.”

      “Oh Madeline! Don’t say that.” Alice switched seats to put her arm around her and June came to her aid too.
 

      “He’ll be waiting for you, Mads, don’t even think that.”

      “There, there,” said Betty, hands on her stomach. “I’d give you a hug too but my ankles are too swollen to get up.”

      “I know,” said Alice, fingers tickling along Madeline’s arm. “How about you tell us all about your man, Miss Secretive, and we’ll help you decide if he’ll be waiting or not.”

* * *

There was a reason Madeline was attracted to Roy. He wasn’t the most handsome man, he wasn’t the most charming, but he was the first who’d asked her to dance. And he was the first to come to her door with flowers. The first to ask her father if it was acceptable to take her out on a date. And then the first to ask for her hand in marriage.
 

      She knew she was attractive – the smiles and attention directed her way at Church every Sunday weren’t just because her father was the local butcher. Maybe no one had ever had the courage to ask her out. Or maybe no one in the village thought of her that way. She was only seventeen, so it wasn’t as if she’d been available for very long.
 

      But when Roy had made his interest clear, a butterfly in her stomach that she’d never felt before had started to beat its wings with fury.
 

      She loved her family, but it was like the touch of Roy’s skin, the drowsiness of his kisses, had spellbound her. Even seeing her father with tears in his eyes when he knew she was going to accept Roy’s offer of marriage hadn’t changed her mind. Her strong, manly father who never showed his sadness, nor his fear, only his happiness.
 

      Sometimes she wondered if she’d been drugged. For her to say yes to leaving her parents, her sisters, even her little nieces and nephews… it was such a huge decision it was a wonder she had ever been able to make it.
 

      Sometimes she hadn’t been sure. Sometimes she thought all she wanted was a nice local boy, so she could move into a home nearby and raise a family, like her sisters had. But when he’d asked her, she’d forgotten all that. Then suddenly they were married, and there was no backing out. Not even when the reality of what she’d committed to had sunk in. And not when he’d left to go back to war after their wedding, and she hadn’t seen him again before she’d had to get on the ship and say goodbye to everyone she loved.
 

The night air sent a chill across her shoulders and Madeline wished for Roy’s warm coat. She had a cardigan slung over her, buttoned under her bust, but it was no match for the cold that had swept in with the dark.
 

      “You still haven’t told me about your home,” she said. Madeline could count how many times she’d asked Roy about America, but he seemed reluctant to talk about it.
 

      “I’ve told you, Maddy, I come from a farm in New York.”

      She fought to wrap the cardigan even tighter around her. It was like a tiny fly constantly landing on her leg. A niggle that just kept persisting. Every time she brought up his home, they went from happy-go-lucky and fun to quiet.
Silent
. Did it hurt him that much to recall the home he’d left behind?

      “But what’s it like? What is your house like? What are your family like?”

      A look she couldn’t identify passed over his face, but it disappeared so fast she almost wondered if it had ever been there at all.
 

      “Honey, what do you need to know?” He took her hand and dropped a kiss to it. “We live in a farm house in a little New York town, where hens mill about and there are endless fields and long sunny days.”

      She smiled. How could she not? When he put it like that it sounded, well, wonderful.
 

      “And your family?”

      “You know I have a sister. She’s unmarried, or at least she was when I left, and my parents are just usual Americans. There’s really nothing to tell.”

      “So your sister lives at home too? How many bedrooms does your house have?”

      “What is this? Twenty questions? Enough already.” Roy stood abruptly and stalked a few steps away.
 

      She bit back a response. Most of the time he was so kind and loving, so sweet, other times he got annoyed and rude with her, like she had no right to ask him personal questions. It was like they lived in a bubble, where everything was wonderful, until she spoke out of turn.
 

      But her father had told her that Roy had come over to see him, that he’d asked for her hand in marriage. And now it was all she could think about. She needed to know what kind of life to expect if the question was put to her.
 

      Could she really leave everything she knew behind? Leave her family for good? It was something that worried her every night before dark, because she’d thought about marrying him plenty before now. She did want to marry him, but she had no idea where New York even was on the map. Didn’t she have a right to know a little about where she might be moving if she said yes to him?

      “Roy, I’m sorry, I just…”

      He turned to face her, a smile just noticeable from where he stood in the half light. She felt that now-familiar tickle in her stomach, the one that reminded her she was in love.

      “Maddy, it’s me who’s sorry.” He knelt in front of the seat, taking both her hands in his own.
 

      Oh God.
Was he going to ask her now? Did she have to decide tonight? Her heart started racing, pulse thundering at her neck and in her wrists. It was a wonder he couldn’t see it pounding beneath her cardigan.
 

      “You can ask all you like.” He leaned forward to kiss her nose. “I’m just thinking about the war. About leaving. About…”

      She pulled his lands into her lap. “You can tell me.”

      He shook his head. “I just think we need to live in the now, not waste time talking about America or what might be. Are you cold?”

      She nodded. He pulled off his coat and tugged it around her shoulders.
 

      “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      Madeline felt warmth spread through her, inhaled the smell of cologne on his jacket and looked into his eyes. Maybe she was supposed to ask for his coat? She had no experience and she’d just guessed a man would offer it. Her thoughts made her feel bad for doubting him. He was a good man. A kind man. She just had all types of romantic ideas flitting through her imagination. It wasn’t good for her.
 

      “Let’s get you home before your father comes looking for us.”

      She leaned into him as he slung an arm around her. Every now and again she questioned him, worried about whether he was right for her, and then at times like this, she wondered why she was so silly.
 

      But then she’d only known him such a short time. He’d be gone soon and yet she had to make a decision that in pre-war times would never have had to be made so fast.
 

      “Tell me about the farm again,” she asked him.
 

      This time he was relaxed. This time he pulled her closer rather than push her away.
 

      Roy dropped a kiss to her head. “Every morning someone goes down to collect all the eggs and let the hens out. They roam free across the fields, until they’re called in for a dinner of hot mash.”

      “You feed chickens mash?”

      “Hens, baby, hens,” he drawled, slowing down their walk.
 

      She giggled.
 

      “You got a lot to learn about being a farmer’s wife.”

      Madeline’s heart started to thud again. It seemed like a question, like a hint, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge it, not until he asked her outright.
 

      Because she wasn’t ready to make a decision, not yet.
 

      “Have you given that boy an answer?”

      Madeline turned her eyes back into the house. She had been gnawing on a piece of toast and gazing out the window.
 

      Her father looked up over his glasses, newspaper held down so he could see her.
 

      “I haven’t been asked.”
 

      She’d always been honest with her father, but it was awkward talking about Roy. They normally chatted about books and happenings, about her friends, about the butcher shop, but never about boys. She’d never had a boy to talk about.
 

      “He’ll be asking you soon.”

      Her father went back to reading the paper, but she didn’t look away. Was he saying it was all right to say yes? Did he
want
her to say yes? She was the last of his four daughters to be at home. The youngest, but still the last. Her sisters had married young, had children of their own already.

      She watched her mother fuss in the kitchen as she always did, listened to the shuffle of paper as her father turned the page. It was all so familiar, yet one day she’d have to leave it behind. But to think about not hearing or seeing them go about their daily routine scared her.
 

      “You’re not still thinking about him are you?”

      Her father hadn’t even dropped the paper this time. She glared at the newsprint but it was hard not to smile.
 

      “Of course not, Daddy.”

      She heard him chuckle.
 

      “I’ll bring you home,” he said.
 

      Her mother dropped something metal into the sink. The clang echoed.
 

      He folded up the paper and placed both hands on the table, before stretching to stand up.
 

      “If you marry the boy and it’s that bad over there, I’ll bring you home.”

      “Harold!” Her mother’s face was bright red. “We haven’t the money to bring her home if she takes a fancy on coming back.”

      He swatted behind him without even looking – a wave of the hand as if to silence her. Madeline kept her eyes on him, trying to stop the tears in her own.