“We want to get out of London. Tonight. Don’t you hear the air raid sirens? I’m Fiona, this is Dottie and Viv, and you’re our driver.”
“What time’s it?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing his face. He had a spiky black forest of hair and at least three days of stubble on his face.
“It’s time to leave. How long have you been passed out?” Viv asked, lighting up a cigarette.
“Give me a fag, will ya?” he said, looking at Viv’s pack of Chesterfields. I jumped off the truck so he could open the door and get out. Viv handed him a cigarette and her book of matches. He was a lean, wiry guy with a compact build. From the lines around his eyes, I guessed him to be in his late forties.
“Ain’t we leaving in the mornin’?” he said, looking at all of our gear on the ground. “What happened?”
“If you thought we were leaving in the morning, why were you sleeping in the truck now?” Dottie asked.
“Me mate dropped me here after the pub,” he said with a shrug. “Already packed. Got no reason to go home if I got to be here at dawn.”
“So you didn’t even know about the decision to leave tonight?” I said.
“Red Cross lady came by. Is that what she was sayin’, then?” he said, referring to Liz Anderson. “I was knackered. Didn’t hear a word of it.”
“You were dead asleep,” I said. “And yes, we’ve got to leave tonight. Like now. We’re the last ones here. Can you drive? Sounds like you’ve been at the pub.”
“Smells like he was at the pub,” Viv said under her breath.
“’Course I can drive,” he said, standing taller.
“If you can’t, we all took driving lessons,” I said. “We have our British licenses. I can . . . I can try to drive us instead.”
Viv and Dottie looked at me like I had lost my mind. I stared back at them, silently warning them not to contradict me. Truth was, I was terrified at the thought of driving, but careening through the countryside with a drunk Jimmy English was just as scary.
Jimmy burst out laughing. He stumbled back and kept roaring with laughter like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
“What?” I said, crossing my arms. “What’s so funny?”
“You? Driving this? In a blackout with only the cat-eye lights?” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “That’s brilliant. Norman told me all about youse three.” He pointed at me with his lit cigarette. “You wouldn’t make it two miles, would ya?”
“Yes, we would,” I said.
“No, we definitely wouldn’t,” Viv said.
“Quiet, Viv,” I said.
“But she’s right, Fi, we need him,” Dottie said. “We need you, Mr. English.”
“But he’s still drunk,” I said, pointing to him. His dark eyes were glassy and bloodshot. “You do realize that, right? And I don’t think you’d disagree, would you, Mr. English?”
“Ain’t gonna deny it,” he said with a nod. “But I’m bettin’ I’m a much better driver drunk than your lot is stone sober.”
I was about to disagree when I heard it. And we all looked to the sky at the sound of the low rumble. It was getting louder by the second.
“That’s it. That’s them doodlebugs comin’ in, isn’t it?” Jimmy said, stomping out his cigarette. He sprang into action, grabbing our gear and loading it into the Clubmobile. “Ain’t got no more time to argue, ladies.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said in a whisper as we loaded up all of our things. “We’re really going to let this man drive us?”
“What choice do we have?” Dottie said. “We only passed our driving exams because Norman gave us a break, and I’m ready to stop shaking from buzz bombs. I want to get out of here.”
“Amen, Dots,” Viv said. “Time to go.”
We climbed into the front, four across—it was tight but not terrible. I peeked through the small window into the back, at the tiny kitchen and all of our gear piled up. I suddenly saw a flash of movement and orange fur, and I jumped as it came leaping through the window right at us. Viv screamed.
“Whoa, kitty. Where in the world did she come from?” I asked. She had jumped onto Jimmy’s lap.
“Oh yeah, that’s me cat, Vera Lynn,” Jimmy said as he fired up the Clubmobile. “Had to bring her too; ain’t got no one to care for her.”
Vera was a scraggly orange cat; her left ear was nicked at the top, and one of her green eyes was partially closed like another cat had punched her.
“You named your cat after Vera Lynn, the singer?” I said, eyebrows raised, not able to hide my amusement.
“What’s the deal with Vera’s eye?” Dottie asked.
“Oh no. No. I hate cats,” Viv said, covering her mouth. In a muffled voice she added, “They steal your breath. Also, Vera needs a bath.” She was sitting next to the window on the opposite side of the cab, and she moved like she was going to open the door and jump out. The cab of the Clubmobile smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and stinky feline.
“Keep ’at door shut, miss. We’re goin’,” Jimmy said in a firm voice. I think the incoming buzz bombs had sobered him up, at least I hoped so. He kissed Vera on the head and threw her in the back as she meowed in protest.
Starting up the Clubmobile, Jimmy hit the gas so hard we all had whiplash. We drove out of the base into the pitch-black night, going easily over seventy miles per hour. Our semi-drunk driver navigated the roads and drove at a breakneck pace, as if the buzz bombs might make a direct hit on us. I said a silent prayer, terrified that if the buzz bombs didn’t get us, Jimmy’s driving surely would.
Chapter Eleven
July 31, 1944
Leicester, England
My eyes were still closed when I heard the sound of a rooster crowing right outside the window next to my bed, and I remembered we weren’t in London anymore.
For the entire ride to Leicester the night before, I had gripped the door of the cab with white knuckles, certain we were going to crash into a cow or fence or oncoming car. By some miracle, Jimmy had managed to deliver us safely to our destination. We were billeted near one of the villages on the outskirts of the city of Leicester, in a stone farmhouse owned by a lovely widow named Mrs. Tibbetts. At three in the morning, we had finally stumbled into her home, sleepy and hungry. She greeted us at the door with a smile, fed us some savory tarts and tea, and sent us straight to bed.
Our bedroom was on the second floor, a long and narrow room with a slanted ceiling and three single beds in a row. It was her sons’ room—all three of them were away in the war, one in Italy, two in the Pacific.
Dottie was already awake and standing by the window, where she had removed the blackout curtain. “Come see, Fiona.”
We hadn’t been able to see a thing when we arrived the night before. That morning the English countryside was breathtaking and such a contrast from London. There was a garden divided by a winding path—it was in full bloom, bursting with orange daisies, purple foxgloves, and pale-pink geraniums. Beyond the garden were rolling hills of various shades of green, spotted with herds of sheep. In the distance you could see a pond with some white geese lazily floating on the surface.
I opened the window and took a deep breath of the fresh country air.
“This is lovely,” I said. “Like out of a Jane Austen novel.”
“Isn’t it?” Dottie said with a smile. “I think we’ve got to wake Princess V.” She gently shook Viv, who just grumbled and rolled over.
“Hello? Hello, good morning!” Mrs. Tibbetts knocked on our door and peeked in. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling her head back. “I didn’t realize you weren’t dressed.”
“It’s fine, Mrs. Tibbetts,” I said, stepping into the hallway in my pajamas and smoothing out my hair. “Good morning.”
“Did you sleep well, dear?” she asked, hope in her voice. She was shorter than me, with light-blue eyes and brown hair streaked with gray. She had a round face and a very pretty smile.
“Yes, I did,” I said. “Your home is beautiful. Thank you for letting us stay here.”
“It’s no trouble,” she said in a lilting accent that was different than Jimmy’s, though I couldn’t identify exactly how. “And I’m happy to have the company. It’s been too quiet with just me and the animals. I’ve started talking to them, for goodness’ sake.” She laughed. “There’s tea and breakfast downstairs.”
She smiled and patted my shoulder before turning to go. “And Jimmy will take you to Granby Street when you’re ready to go.”
“Jimmy’s already here?” I said.
“Jimmy never left,” she said. “He was in no shape to drive a minute longer, so I got him some blankets and he slept on the sofa.”
“That was smart,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Not a worry. I’ll see you downstairs.”
I walked back into the bedroom to get dressed, put on some lipstick, and brush my hair. I was surprised to see Viv and Dottie almost ready to go.
“Please tell me she didn’t say tea,” Viv said, her voice even raspier than normal. “I need a strong cup of coffee, or I’m going to kill myself. Damn that rooster.”
“I do prefer roosters to air raid sirens,” Dottie said.