Spitfire Girl Read online

  She kissed him on the cheek and slipping the fur jacket round her shoulders she left the room. Colin was waiting for her at the top of the stairs. He whistled as she approached him. ‘You look terrific, Susan. An absolute peach.’

  He was every girl’s dream; handsome, dashing and sophisticated. Susan’s stomach lurched and she felt sick. Panic seized her. Virginia Kemp would have known how to behave in company, and Pamela might not be the most glamorous female in London but she was well read and could hold an intelligent conversation with her escort. ‘I’ve got to get my handbag and gasmask,’ Susan said, making for her room. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it while her heartbeats returned to normal. She hesitated for a moment, taking deep breaths. It was all too good to be true and she had the horrible feeling that it was not going to last. She was excited and terrified at the same time. Colin might find her attractive but he would soon see through her. She was still a girl from the orphanage, and nothing that she was wearing was new. Everything apart from her undies had belonged to another woman. She had no true identity. Everyone, including Colin, would see through her and realise that she was a complete and utter fraud. She could not go with him. It was certain to be a complete disaster. She would have to make an excuse. A sudden headache. A fainting fit. Anything.

  ‘Come on, Susan.’ Colin knocked on her door. ‘We’ll never get a table at the Trocadero if we leave it too late.’

  Chapter Seven

  She knew she was being a coward. Amy Johnson, her heroine, had flown solo to Australia and from London to Cape Town; she would not have behaved in such a weak-kneed fashion.

  ‘Are you ready, Susan? It’s getting late.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Coming.’ She hitched her gasmask case over her shoulder and tucked her handbag under her arm. This was an evening of firsts. The first time she had worn anything remotely glamorous; the first time she had been asked out on a date by a handsome young man, and the first time she had been taken to a restaurant anywhere, let alone up West. She would put the past behind her and enjoy herself.

  The Trocadero restaurant in Shaftesbury Avenue had been built at the end of the last century and it was the most impressive place that Susan had ever seen. The murals on the walls of the grand staircase depicted dramatic Arthurian scenes and the interior was decorated in the opera baroque style, which quite took her breath away.

  A rather pompous and intimidating maître d’hôtel demanded to know if they had booked a table, but Colin seemed in complete control of the situation. Susan watched in awe as he slipped something into the man’s hand. It was obviously money, and it must have been quite a generous tip, as the man’s demeanour changed quite suddenly and he summoned a waiter who led them to a table close to the dance floor. Lost in the splendour of the setting and intoxicated by the exciting atmosphere, she forgot the war, the dangers and the hardships of the past year. The patrons were mostly young, and many of the men were in uniform. The girls were done up to the nines and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was music and laughter and if the food was not up to the standard that people like Colin expected, Susan remained uncritical, savouring every mouthful.

  Colin ordered a bottle of Graves and he sipped his, watching her with a smile hovering on his lips. ‘I thought you might prefer white wine rather than red. This was a good year, and it’s not too dry.’

  To oblige him she tasted it and nodded. ‘It’s nice, but I don’t think Dave would approve.’

  ‘One glass won’t do you any harm. Anyway, would you like to dance?’

  Her worst fears were realised as she gazed at the couples gyrating round the floor as if they were glued together. ‘I really don’t know how, Colin.’

  He rose to his feet, holding out his hand. ‘There isn’t much room to manoeuvre, so no one will notice if we miss a beat or two. I’ll promise not to tread on your toes, if you’ll promise not to tread on mine.’

  She reached for her glass and took a large mouthful of wine. Unused to alcohol in any form, she felt the effects almost immediately, but it gave her the courage to get up and allow him to lead her onto the dance floor. With his arms around her she found herself seduced by the rhythm of the music, and to her surprise it was easy to follow his sinuous movements. At first she concentrated hard, trying not to totter in the unaccustomed high heels, but as she began to relax she discovered to her astonishment that it came quite naturally to her. She could have danced all night, but eventually the music stopped and he led her back to their table.

  ‘That wasn’t too hard, was it?’

  She smiled, shaking her head. ‘No. It was lovely, Colin. Thank you.’

  He reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. ‘No. Thank you, Susan. You’re a delightful partner and a charming companion. I’m sorry for Tony, but I’m glad his bad luck gave me the chance of meeting you.’

  She knew she was blushing. Her heart was beating faster than normal and she felt deliciously lightheaded. It might have been the wine, or the excitement of the dance, or perhaps it was being the object of someone’s admiration and receiving his undivided attention.

  The waiter materialised at their table, offering a leather-bound menu to Susan. ‘Would Madame care for a dessert?’

  She glanced anxiously at Colin but he smiled his assent. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Could I have ice cream?’ she murmured. ‘Chocolate ice cream.’

  ‘Of course, madame.’ The waiter passed the menu to Colin.

  He waved it away. ‘I’ll have the same.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’ The waiter glided off in the direction of the swing doors leading to the kitchens.

  ‘Do you like ice cream too?’ Susan asked eagerly. ‘I thought you might think it was a bit childish.’

  ‘I love ice cream, but I have to be honest. I’d much rather have one of your mince pies.’

  This made Susan giggle and she glanced round to see if there were any other waiters hovering nearby. ‘They would be most offended if they heard you say that.’

  He refilled their glasses. ‘I meant it, Susan. If your pastry is anything to go by I’d say that you’re an excellent cook. If only they would employ someone half as good as you in our canteen at the aerodrome, we’d be in seventh heaven.’

  ‘What’s it like flying an aeroplane?’ Susan angled her head, longing to hear first hand how it felt to be free as a bird.

  ‘There’s nothing to it.’ His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. ‘You just climb into the cockpit and twiddle a few knobs and the thing takes off. Still I’d rather be flying a Hurricane or a Spit than trying to teach bone-headed civilian pilots who only yesterday were working in a bank or an office.’

  ‘So you’re an instructor like Tony.’

  ‘I am now, but I flew Hurricanes from the outset. I survived a good many tours of duty, and then my luck ran out over the Channel. I was picked up pretty quickly, but I caught pneumonia and after a bout of pleurisy I was told I wasn’t fit for active service. I was given the chance to become a flying instructor and I took it. I reckoned that if I was a cat I’d have used up eight of my nine lives, and I thought I’d hang on to the last one.’

  ‘But you’re still doing a splendid job,’ Susan said enthusiastically. ‘I wish I could go up in a plane. I love the sound of their engines droning like giant bees on a summer’s day, and I’ve followed everything that Amy Johnson has done, either in the newspapers or on the Pathé news at the cinema.’

  He sat back in his seat, regarding her with a cynical smile. ‘You really are an enthusiast, aren’t you, my pet? Maybe one day I’ll take you for a joy ride and show you what it feels like to soar in the wild blue yonder.’

  She caught her breath on a gasp of delight. ‘Would you, Colin? Would you really?’

  He smiled lazily. ‘It’s a promise.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come on, this is a waltz. Let’s make the most of this evening.’

  The inference that this might be their one and only chance to be together was not lost on
Susan, and this time she went willingly onto the dance floor. She felt lighter than thistledown as they moved in time to the romantic strains of a Viennese waltz. Their ice cream was melting on the plates by the time they returned to the table, but Susan did not care. If the world ended this minute, she could not have been happier. In the gilt and plush surroundings and in the company of couples savouring their brief time together, it was like wonderland to a girl more used to scrubbing floors and clearing up other people’s mess than living the high life.

  All too soon it was over and they emerged into the cold night air to find themselves in bright moonlight. Frost sparkled on the pavements and for once there was no sound of anti-aircraft guns, sirens or the drone of aeroplanes. Colin pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘Merry Christmas, Susan.’

  She gasped as the cold air filled her lungs, but his lips were warm and his breath tasted of chocolate ice cream and wine. Her head was spinning with the thrill of it all. He linked her hand through the crook of his arm. ‘Let’s get you home before you catch your death of cold.’

  There was no danger of that: she was afire with excitement. The thrilling ambience of the restaurant, the music and dancing, together with the magical feeling of Christmas Eve, made her feel ready for anything. She could have walked all the way to Swiss Cottage without her feet having touched the ground.

  In the end they caught the last bus and when they got off at their stop they strolled, arm in arm, to the cycle shop. He kissed her again when they reached the side door, and she returned the embrace enthusiastically. His kisses were quite unlike those forced on her by Dudley, and she relaxed against him with a sigh of contentment. ‘Thank you for tonight, Colin,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll remember it always.’

  He released her with a flattering degree of reluctance. ‘You’re a sweet girl, Susan. We must do it again some time.’

  Her heart swelled inside her breast, making it hard to breathe. She fumbled in her handbag for the door key, and her hand was shaking as she placed it in the lock. She opened the door and went inside, pausing in the pitch dark at the foot of the stairs. She could feel Colin’s warm breath on the back of her neck and she turned to him, raising her face in anticipation of his kiss, which was more intoxicating than all the wine in France, but he merely brushed her lips with his. He held her for a second or two and then released her, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. ‘It’s late, Susan. High time you were tucked up in bed.’

  She paused with one foot on the bottom tread. ‘It’s Christmas Day.’

  ‘So it is.’

  Even in the dark she could feel him smiling. ‘I haven’t got a present for you, Colin.’

  He moved onto the step beside her. ‘You’ve already given me a night to remember, my sweet.’ He gave her a hug. ‘We’d best keep the noise down. I don’t fancy being berated by Miss Richards at one o’clock in the morning.’

  She felt a tug of disappointment. So it was over. Their wonderful night had ended in the narrow stairway with the smell of the cycle shop in her nostrils and an ache in her heart. She made her way up the staircase, but she stopped outside her bedroom door, turning to him with a smile. A stray moonbeam filtered through the skylight on the landing, and she could see his eyes lustrous and dark with desire. She felt drunk with power and filled with a need that she could not quite define. ‘Shall we have a cup of cocoa?’ she whispered in the hope of keeping him to herself for a little while longer.

  His answer was a kiss that took her breath away and made her go weak at the knees, but he released her suddenly and placed his finger on her lips. ‘It’s bedtime for you, kid. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  She could not speak. Her heart was too full and the magic of the night held her in its thrall. Wordlessly, she entered her room and closed the door. Charlie threw himself at her and she lifted him in her arms, cuddling him as she leaned against the door. Dave must have decided he was better off shut in her room after all. She wondered if Colin was still standing outside, and she was tempted to open it and lure him into her bed, but she knew that would be as foolish as it would be wrong. She had only a rough idea of what transpired between men and women in the privacy of their bedrooms, but her information had been garnered from the whispered conversations of the girls in the orphanage dormitory. Until now it had seemed rather ridiculous, if not slightly unpleasant, and Dudley’s attempted violation of her person had confirmed that impression, but suddenly she was seeing things in a different light. The emotions that Tony had stirred in her had simply been heightened by a romantic evening with a man who she suspected was well practised in the art of seduction, and now her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen.

  She put her ear to the door and was disappointed to hear Colin’s footsteps fading into the distance as he went to the lounge. She had left a pillow and some blankets on one of the chairs before they went out, in the full knowledge that Maida would not stoop to do anything as menial, and Dave would forget.

  She did not bother to put the light on as this would have necessitated closing the blackout curtains and shutting out the star-spangled sky. She put Charlie down on the bed and undressed slowly, caressing her bare body with the flat of her hand and pretending that it was Colin who was making love to her. A feeling of guilt washed over her and she shivered. It had been love at first sight when she fell off her bicycle and Tony had come to her aid. He had been her Sir Lancelot, a knight of old, just like the ones she had read about. How could she be so fickle?

  It was bitterly cold in her room and her skin was soon covered in goose pimples. She pulled her serviceable flannelette nightgown over her head. What sort of person fell in love with someone and allowed his best friend to turn her silly head? She climbed into bed and lay gazing up at the stars, but she was exhausted and her eyelids were heavy. She fell asleep to the strains of a Viennese waltz repeating over and over again in her head.

  Next morning she was up before dawn and busying herself in the kitchen. It really was Christmas Day now, and she was as excited as a small child. The staff in the orphanage had always made a huge effort during the festive season. Well-wishers had donated toys and games and there was always plenty of food to go round. Christmas had been a special time even then, although she had always tried to imagine what it must be like to have a real home with loving parents and brothers and sisters. Now she had a family, of sorts. Dave was, she thought, the nearest that she would get to having a real father. She would cook a really special Christmas dinner for him, and as it was the season of goodwill she would include Maida, even though she was not her most favourite person in the world.

  It went without saying that she wanted to impress Colin. She could never forget Tony, but last night had been magical and Colin’s kisses had been more than a casual peck on the cheek. As for herself, surely she could not have longed for intimacy with a man unless she loved him just a little bit? That was how it worked in all the romantic novels she had borrowed from the library. Perhaps she had mistaken her feelings for Tony after all. Colin might whisk her away to Gretna Green and they would be married. Susan Forbes. Mrs Colin Forbes. She chuckled at the thought and raked the ashes in the boiler until they glowed red. She tipped in just enough coke to keep it going in order to heat the water and warm the flat. Two hundredweights a week did not allow for extravagant use of either coal or coke, but today was special. She wanted the best for Colin, and that did not include washing and shaving in cold water.

  She had prepared the turkey for the oven, filling the crop with homemade stuffing and covering the legs with the greaseproof paper that came wrapped around butter and lard. Mrs Kemp had been parsimonious when it came to housekeeping, and Susan had learned to be thrifty and never to waste a thing. She set the turkey aside to go in the oven a bit later, and turned her attention to peeling potatoes. She was humming snatches of the Blue Danube waltz when the door opened and Colin entered the kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. His hair was tousled and he needed a s
have. In his shirtsleeves with the top buttons undone to reveal a little of his bare chest he looked younger and endearingly vulnerable. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and hug him, but she was still clutching a potato in one hand and the peeler in the other.

  ‘Is there any hot water, Susan?’ he said, grinning ruefully and rubbing the stubble on his chin. ‘I’m in desperate need of a wash and shave.’

  Her feeling of euphoria plummeted like a stone. She had not expected him to sweep her off her feet and ravish her at this hour of the morning, but she had thought he might have said something a little more romantic.

  ‘I’ve got the boiler going. The water should be warm enough by now.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He made to leave the room, but he hesitated in the doorway. ‘I know I said it before, but merry Christmas, Susan. I really enjoyed last night.’

  ‘So did I. Do you think you might come to London next time you get some leave?’

  He shook his head. ‘I doubt it. I usually travel to Scotland. My grandparents are getting on a bit and I like to spend as much time as I can with them. They virtually brought me up after Mum remarried, and I’ve got quite a few friends living up there too.’

  Her heart sank so far that she felt she was treading on it. ‘Anyone special?’

  ‘There is, actually, but she’s still living in the Highlands. Morag and I have had an understanding for a long time. I can only hope she doesn’t get fed up with waiting for me.’

  I would, Susan thought sadly. I’d wait forever and a day if you were sweet on me. She managed a smile. ‘I see. Well, she’s a lucky girl.’

  ‘And the chap who steals your heart will be a fortunate fellow. Now I’d better grab the bathroom before Miss Richards gets up.’ He blew her a kiss as he left the room.

  The door closed on him and Susan stabbed the point of the peeler into the potato. What an innocent little fool I must be, she thought, giving it another savage jab. He was just amusing himself. She brushed angry tears from her eyes, looking up expectantly as the door opened again, but this time it was Dave who burst into the kitchen.