Every time the mail came, I got that tightness in my chest, anxiety I could feel down to my toes. I wanted to get mail, because I was starting to really miss my parents and my sisters, but I dreaded it at the same time because of the ever-looming possibility of bad news.
“I’m not going to tell you not to worry because you still will,” Frankie said. “But I will tell you that I’m happy to sit and read any letters that come your way, like I did on the roof, just so you’re not alone if the news is . . . is about Danny.”
“Me too,” Martha said.
“Just say the word,” Blanche added.
“Thanks, girls,” I said. In the Midlands, Frankie, Martha, and Blanche would be stationed nearby, and we were all happy about that.
We turned one more corner and reached the Paramount Dance Hall, the sidewalk beneath our feet vibrating from the sound of the big band coming from inside.
“Hey, dolls! You girls American Red Cross?” an olive-skinned soldier said as soon as we walked into the club. He was standing with a bunch of his fellow GIs, and they weren’t even trying to hide their admiration, whistling and elbowing each other as they looked us up and down.
“You know it, darling,” Blanche said with a dazzling smile. She looked beautiful; her blonde curls were pulled up on top of her head in an updo, and she was wearing a lovely emerald-green dress with flattering gathers at the shoulders.
“Where’s your uniforms, then?” the soldier asked.
“Last night in town, so we’re allowed to play dress-up,” Blanche replied.
“Last night? You’re breaking my heart,” the soldier said, putting his hands on his chest, his face an exaggerated frown. “Promise me a dance?”
“If you’re lucky.” Blanche winked, and his friends laughed and teased him.
“Jesus, Blanche, enough. Get inside the club already,” Frankie said, annoyed but amused as she gave her a shove.
It felt so good to wear something pretty and be out of uniform for the night. Viv’s dress was a deep teal with an off-the-shoulder neckline, crossover detailing on the bodice, and a dropped waist that flattered every one of her curves. Dottie had a demure cream-colored swing-style dress with navy piping that made her look like the fourth Andrews sister. Martha’s dress was a simple but flattering pink floral print. Frankie was wearing a dress that was black velvet on top with a full hot pink skirt.
And I was wearing my favorite black dress. It had a sweetheart bodice with spaghetti straps underneath a gauzy blouse overlay with cap sleeves. It was cinched at the waist with a black patent leather belt and had a slight fishtailed skirt. I had used a comb with a faux red rose to twist my hair up and to the side in the front; the rest of it fell in waves to my shoulders.
The hall was bathed in a smoky haze, the smell of cheap perfume and cigarettes mingling with the sour odor of stale beer. Joe Brandon had brought more than just a couple of his bandmates. He was up onstage, sweat dripping down his face as he played piano with a ten-instrument ensemble complete with a full horn section. Couples packed the dance floor, laughing and jitterbugging to the band’s fantastic rendition of “Sing, Sing, Sing.”
Miss Chambers’s words were weighing on me, but I had promised Viv and Dottie I would try to relax and have fun on our last night here. I took a deep breath, self-consciously smoothed out my dress, and walked with my friends along the edge of the enormous dance floor. We finally found a couple of tables that we could push together, and a waiter in a white coat immediately came over to take our drink order.
A loud, rambunctious group of British RAFs were drinking pints of amber-colored beer and celebrating a birthday at the tables next to ours.
“He’s really still got a girl at home?” Dottie was looking up at the stage as she asked. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and there was a wistful look in her eyes. Viv had done her makeup—winged black eyeliner on her lids and bright-red lipstick. She looked stunning but never believed it when we told her.
“I think so, and I’m so sorry you’re disappointed,” I said. “He certainly seemed to be flirting with you.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a sigh and a wave of her hand. She turned away from the stage as the waiter brought our drinks. “Even if he was flirting, it’s not like any of this matters—we’re all going our separate ways.”
“True,” I said.
“Excuse me, I say, ladies, are these soldiers bothering you at all?” Harry Westwood, the RAF officer and Cary Grant look-alike, said. He stood behind Viv’s chair and nodded over to the group of RAF soldiers next to us.
“They’re fine,” Viv said, giving him an amused look that told me she had definitely not forgotten him.
“Oh, it’s Viviana, not Vivien, from Boston,” he said, flashing her a broad smile that made Dottie kick me under the table. “How lovely to see you Red Cross ladies again.”
“You too. I’m sorry, your name again?” Viv asked him, and I rolled my eyes at Frankie and Dottie because I knew she hadn’t forgotten.
“Westwood, mate, come have a pint with us,” one of the soldiers called to him. “Unless you’re too good for our lot.”
“Not at all,” he said. “But I was hoping to ask Miss Occhipinti for a dance. And my first name is Harry. Shall we?” He put his hand out for her. Viv looked at it and then back up at him. It was like watching a movie unfold, these two gorgeous people, so confident, so used to getting people to do what they wanted.
“Why don’t you have that pint, and I’ll think about it,” Viv said, smiling and giving him a wink. “We just got here. I want to talk with my friends for a bit.”
They locked eyes, and I could tell he was a little put off, but then he laughed and said, “Very well. You think about it, Viviana.”
“Are you crazy?” Blanche batted Viv on the arm after he walked away. “He’s the most gorgeous guy in the joint. What are you waiting for? And besides, this group needs more to talk about. We need some scandals.” Before the Red Cross, Blanche had been a gossip columnist for a New Orleans newspaper, which came as a surprise to exactly no one.
“Viv, he remembered your last name,” I said. “We met him for what, a minute at Rainbow Corner?”
“Honestly, I didn’t even remember your last name,” Frankie said.
“That’s why I know he’ll be back,” Viv said, sipping her gin and tonic. “This is payback for giving me the brush-off last time.” She smiled and winked across the table at Blanche.
“You are crazy,” Blanche said. “But I don’t doubt he’ll be back. That dress is smashing on you, as the Brits say.”
“Thank you, honey,” Viv said, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to Blanche.
I scanned the room, watching the dancing, the crowds of people talking and laughing. For a few hours, we were all pretending there wasn’t a war going on outside the doors. And, once again, I looked for an officer I knew would not be there, and I felt the grief wash over me like a wave.
“I know what you’re thinking about, or rather who you’re thinking about. You get a certain look in your eye,” Dottie said into my ear, patting my hand. “You try so hard to hide it. But it’s okay, you’re among friends. Miss Chambers isn’t within earshot.”
“I’m pathetic,” I said, blinking back tears. “If Miss Chambers saw me right now, she’d send me home. Was I crazy to do this?”
“No, not at all,” Dottie said. “When you told me you wanted to apply, I thought it was so brave. Your bravery made me decide to apply too. Part of the reason I’m doing this is to force myself to come out of my shell. Leaving my little brother and my parents, with Marco already stationed so far away? That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I needed to do this too. For myself.”
“I’m proud of you, Dottie,” I said. “And my saving grace is having you and Viv with me.”
“All right, finished my beer, who wants to go find some soldiers to dance with?” Martha said, slamming her beer glass on the table and jumping up from her chair. “Who’s with me?”
“I’ll come,” Viv said. Blanche got up, as did a few other girls, including a somewhat reluctant Frankie, as well as ChiChi, Doris, and Rosie, a crew from the Clubmobile Dixie Queen that we had gotten to know during our training.
“Wait, where did Harry Westwood go?” I asked, looking over to where he had just been sitting with the RAF officers.
“Missing. Maybe he brushed me off again,” Viv said, acting nonchalant despite the disappointment in her eyes.