Chapter Twenty-eight
Meg told us the young women at the Forestry Corps were so excited about the upcoming Valentine’s Day dance that they had been reprimanded twice for their lack of concentration around the huge, engine-driven saws. I couldn’t blame them. Several of the girls, including Meg, expected to be presented with rings, making their engagements official.
As the day grew closer, the lumberjacks’ remarks became increasingly ribald. The night before the dance, one of them said something so off-color it turned Meg into a redheaded fury. She leaned over Rory, who flattened himself against his chair, and scolded him harshly, even as he protested—correctly—that he hadn’t said a thing.
“But you did nothing to stop him, did you?” she said, still holding a finger in front of his face.
He glowered at her, but his arms hung slack off the sides of his chair.
When she spun and flounced off, her red curls bouncing, the older men at the bar gave somber nods of approval, and the rest of the lumberjacks—who understood that Rory had been reprimanded for all of them—went on their best behavior.
Hank leaned in toward Ellis and held a hand up to the side of his mouth so his voice wouldn’t carry.
“Who’s the tough guy now?” he snickered.
Ellis was too distracted to be amused. Not twenty minutes before, he’d excused himself and gone upstairs, only to return looking pale. I knew exactly what had happened. He’d tried my door and found it locked.
When I did the rooms that morning, I’d noticed he was down to five pills. I knew he must be desperate to get more and wondered why he didn’t just come out and ask me, like he always did. Maybe he didn’t want to ask in front of Hank, I didn’t know—but whatever the reason, I was grateful because I couldn’t have helped him anyway. I’d flushed the rest of the pills down the toilet.
—
On the day of the dance, Meg, Anna, and I went to special effort to dress up the front room because we knew girls would be coming in. We put linens on the tables, and Anna created something called “coalie flowers.” She blamed the lack of real flowers on both weather and the war, and instead put four or five pieces of coal in glass bowls, added water, salt, and ammonia, before finally pouring a mixture of violet and blue ink over them. It was a complete mystery to me how this alchemy would result in anything resembling flowers, but they were “blooming” within the hour.
We didn’t have enough to put on each table, so we decided that Meg would herd the girls toward the tables that had them, and steer the men—who wouldn’t appreciate them anyway—elsewhere. The job was Meg’s by default, because Anna would have gone home by then, and I, of course, would be waiting by the fire for Ellis and Hank.
The coalie flowers were not our only efforts. Among the three of us, we’d managed to come up with enough eggs and sugar to make two glazed Bundt cakes, which were resting in the dead center of the wooden table in an attempt to keep them out of Conall’s reach. The beast himself was sprawled across his master’s bed, watching keenly. He was tall enough to reach anything he liked if we turned our backs, but there was no chance of that. We would have protected those cakes with our lives.
Meg and I had given up our egg and sugar rations for the week, which were enough to make one cake, but then Anna’s hens went on a laying spree. Because they lived on a croft, the McKenzies got chicken feed instead of egg rations, so their supply was sometimes iffy, but on this occasion the hens came through like champs. Each of the dance-goers was going to get a proper slice, instead of just a taste.
As Anna prepared to leave, hours later than usual, her mood deflated.
“I don’t remember the last time I had cake,” she said, looking longingly at them.
“Don’t you worry,” said Meg. “We’ll put aside the very first slice, and it will be lovely and thick, too.”
“Thank you,” Anna said, still sounding glum. “I suppose I’ll be off then. Have a grand time—and mind you, I want to hear all the details tomorrow.”
Anna’s parents were staunch Wee Frees, and she wasn’t even allowed to wear face powder, never mind attend a dance. Music itself was not allowed, except on Sundays, and then it had to be for the sake of worship only, and sung unadorned. The senior McKenzies were so strict they confined their cockerel under a bushel basket on the Sabbath so he wouldn’t get up to anything untoward with the hens.
I understood Anna’s melancholy, because I also wished I could go to the dance, although that would require an alternate universe in which Ellis didn’t exist.
At least I’d be able to witness the prelude. I was particularly looking forward to seeing the reaction to the cakes, since I’d had a hand in making them. Although I’d only cracked the eggs and stirred the batter, I’d never been as proud of anything in my life.
—
Because we didn’t trust Conall with the cakes, I stayed in the kitchen to guard them while Meg went upstairs to get ready.
She returned looking like a Valentine’s Day dream, in a figure-hugging dress printed with tiny red hearts, her hair carefully arranged, and lips painted into a vermilion cupid’s bow. Her high-heeled shoes were made of red suede, with pretty lace-up fronts. They had to be brand-new—I couldn’t imagine suede surviving a single day in that climate.
I also noticed she was wearing stockings, and a smile crept across my face. She followed my gaze, blushed, and smiled back.
“What do you think?”
“I think Rory will be knocked off his feet,” I said. “I think you’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“Well, at least I won’t have to worry about so-and-so over there trying to lick the gravy browning off my legs.”
Conall’s tail slid back and forth.
It was my turn to get dressed for dinner, but I hesitated. I knew I wouldn’t have another chance to talk to her alone, and I wanted to say something about her imminent proposal. I found myself tongue-tied, probably because I was distinctly unqualified to offer advice in the marriage department. Eventually Meg saved me.
“Now go on,” she scolded, flicking her fingers toward the door. “Make yourself up properly. Tonight, more than ever, beauty is your duty! Even if it’s wasted on your pair of Boring McBoringtons over by the fire, the others will notice. And your dress had better be fancy. And it had better be red, especially tonight! Remember, red is the new badge of—”
“I know! I know!” I said, cutting her off with a laugh. “I’ll wear red! And good luck tonight! Not that you’ll need it!”
I sprinted off before she could reply.
—
I made up my face as though I really were going to a party, and chose a red taffeta poodle dress that didn’t look expensive, because it wasn’t. I’d bought it myself, off the rack, before Ellis took control of my wardrobe.
Finally, I used an eye pencil to draw a shaky line up the back of each leg. I wanted to fit in, not stick out, and that night, especially, I didn’t want to steal anyone’s thunder.
—
By the time Ellis and Hank came through the front door, their cheeks flushed with the elements and whatever else, the other side of the room was filling up.
“Well, would you look at that,” said Hank, coming to a halt.
The mood was electrifying. The girls, all impeccably groomed, were admiring the cakes, which had been presented but not cut. The lumberjacks also made noises about the cakes, but were really admiring the girls. I couldn’t help wondering which ones were expecting rings.
Meg was standing next to a table of girls from the Forestry Corps. She leaned over to point out how the coalie flower had transformed since Anna conjured it into being, but I knew exactly what she was really doing. It took but a moment.
“Wait—those are real seams!” squealed one of the other girls. “How on earth did you get your hands on stockings?”
The lumberjacks murmured surprise, as though they weren’t already looking at Meg’s legs. Having been given an excuse, they stared openly, hungrily.
“Oh,” Meg said, shrugging coyly. “They magically appeared.” She turned her ankle to better display the back of her calf.
Hank and Ellis watched all this from just inside the door. Finally, Hank dug an elbow into Ellis and they launched themselves toward the fire.