“We can get some coffee at the Red Cross club,” I said. “We should go. Liz Anderson is meeting us there at nine to give us our assignments.”
“Well, at least I have this pale-peach nail polish now, so when it chips into the batter, the soldiers won’t be able to see it in their doughnuts,” Viv said.
“You could actually not wear polish, Viv,” Dottie said. “Nail polish chips in doughnuts is disgusting.”
“Not wear any? Never,” Viv said in mock horror.
I adjusted my hat and looked at the three of us in our battle dress uniforms.
“We look official,” I said.
“I still think we look like we’re wearing clown suits,” Viv said.
“Oh shush, Viv.” Dottie swatted her.
I laughed, and then felt myself getting a little emotional. “Thank you both,” I said in a soft voice, looking at my two best friends. “For getting me this far. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“We’ve got a lot farther to go, Fi,” Dottie said. “But you’re welcome.”
“All right, all right,” Viv said, waving her hand in the air and heading out the door. “You don’t really need to thank us, but whatever, you’re welcome. Now can we please go find some American coffee?”
After a breakfast of Mrs. Tibbetts’s own farm-fresh eggs, a fried tomato, mushrooms, and toast, a quiet and sober Jimmy and his very vocal cat Vera drove us through the English countryside, past bursts of flowers and clipped hedges, past villages that looked straight out of a children’s fairy tale. As we got closer to Leicester, it was clear that this part of England had not been spared the horrors of war. Buildings had been bombed out and had yet to be replaced, and the rubble had been cleared in some places, but the damage was still shocking. Jimmy explained that, like London, Leicester had suffered its own devastating damage from German air raids in late 1940.
Throughout the city, lampposts and curb stones had been painted with thick white stripes to help drivers navigate during the blackouts. I thought of Jimmy driving us the night before in that inky blackness, barely sober and with very little to rely on but his tiny headlights and the occasional marker. I’m not sure how he did it, but I was grateful.
Jimmy dropped us off and went to gas up the Clubmobile, and Liz Anderson met us at the front entrance of the Red Cross Service Club on Granby Street. To Viv’s relief, she led us immediately to the dining hall to get steaming mugs of coffee.
“Now, which one of you is going to be captain?” Liz asked as we sat down at a table. She had a folder in front of her with Cheyenne written on the tab.
“Sorry, we haven’t even discussed it yet,” I said, a little embarrassed.
“We have actually,” Viv said, pointing at Dottie and herself. “Fiona’s captain, no question. Of the three of us, she’s perfect for the job.”
“Yup, Viv’s right,” said Dottie. “She ran the mayor’s office in Boston; she’s super organized. We nominate Fiona.”
“Nice of you two to tell me ahead of time,” I said, annoyed.
“Oh please, Fi, if one of us had the job, you’d end up with it anyway,” Viv said.
“It’s true,” Dottie said.
Liz looked at the three of us, amused, as I paused to consider.
“No. What I know is that neither of you wants the job, and you’re trying to flatter me into taking it,” I said, giving them an exaggerated grimace. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
Liz gave me a quick refresher on the captain’s duties we had reviewed in training, which included tedious tasks like making sure Jimmy kept the Cheyenne gassed up and running properly and keeping a weekly log of how many doughnuts we made and packs of cigarettes we dispensed.
“Okay, now to the good stuff.” Liz pulled another sheet out of the folder. “Leicester is centrally located near several army installations. Each day of the week, you’ll be assigned two or three locations. In the mornings, Jimmy will pick you up at Mrs. Tibbetts’s and bring you here to the yard, where we keep the Clubmobiles—a.k.a. ‘Doughnut Alley.’ We have electrical hookups back there so you can make some of the doughnuts before you even get on the road.
“Now, since it’s your first day, I was going to only assign you one camp instead of two, but I’m short-staffed and promised I’d get a crew to Huntingdon this evening. You up for it?”
Dottie and Viv and I looked at each other, the reality of it all making us nervous.
“Sure. Trial by fire, right?” I said.
“Great,” Liz said. She looked at us, searching for words. “Finally, I wanted to mention, you aren’t Miss Chambers’s favorite Clubmobile group . . .”
“You’ve got that right,” Viv said with a snicker.
“But you’re going to be just fine,” she said, giving us a reassuring smile. “Besides, you could serve them coffee grounds and stale dog biscuits, and they’d still be thrilled to see American girls.”
Liz came with us, and we met Jimmy back at the Cheyenne in Doughnut Alley, where the air was thick with the now-familiar, cloyingly sweet smell of doughnuts and grease.
“Okay, I think you’re all set,” she said. “We had to hire some local women to come here to headquarters early in the morning to help supplement your own doughnut making, so you’ve already got several dozen to get you started. Jimmy did you load everything up?”
“Ya, I did, Miss Liz,” he said. He was sitting in the front seat, smoking a cigarette. “Time to go.”
“Major Bill O’Brien is your army liaison. He’ll meet you at the first base to help you get situated,” Liz said, handing off the paperwork. “If you run into any problems, he’s your man.”
“Liz, would it be possible to get some paints?” Viv asked, running her hand across the side of the Cheyenne. “I’d like to spruce this baby up.”
“I think we can arrange that,” Liz said, pleased at the idea.
We thanked Liz and said our good-byes. As we were pulling away, I called to her, and Jimmy stopped the Cheyenne, grunting his annoyance.
“Do you know when we’re going to get another batch of mail?” I asked.
“I’m hoping by the end of the week,” she said. “If I have any for you three, I’ll drop it at Mrs. Tibbetts’s.”
“No news is good news, right?” Dottie said, trying to reassure me as we pulled away.
“I guess,” I said. “I’ve only received that one letter from my sisters since we left the States.”
“We’ll be busy enough to keep your mind off any news,” Viv said. “Although I think two stops on our very first day is way too much, frankly.”
“What news you waitin’ on?” Jimmy asked. He was quiet for a moment after I told him about Danny, but then he said with a nod, “Ah, well, hope you hear somethin’ good soon.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly. I looked out the window at the blue skies and green rolling hills, the hedges and the flowers, wondering for the millionth time, Where are you, Danny? Are you anywhere anymore?
Our first stop was a half hour outside of Leicester, so we had Jimmy pull over, and then we climbed in back to prepare for our big debut. You had to hand it to Harvey Gibson—the interior design was impressive. The Cheyenne’s compact kitchen included the doughnut machine, six coffee urns, and a stainless steel sink. There were space-saving drawers and cabinets for pots, pans, and utensils. There was a compartment with a Victrola that was hooked up to a loudspeaker and another compartment that held our record collection.
Dottie put a Bing Crosby record on the Victrola, and Viv was fixing her hair and lipstick, so I elbowed her to help me with the coffee urns.
“We’re here, ladies,” Jimmy said as we approached a virtual city of army tents. We pushed the two trap doors on the side of the truck up and out to create our serving counters. When we got closer, we spotted an officer in a jeep waving at us.
“Major Bill O’Brien?” I asked, leaning out the window as Jimmy pulled up beside him.
“At your service,” he said. “The boys from the Eighty-Second are going to be happy to see you three. Where y’all from?” He was of average height with strong, rough-hewn features and a thick drawl.
I made the introductions.
“Yankee girls, eh?” he said, smiling. “We’ve got at least a few GIs from around Boston. I’m from Boerne, Texas, myself. Follow me, I’ll show you where to hook up for water.”
Jimmy drove behind Major Bill into the dusty tent city, and my stomach did a little flip.
“All right, ladies, this is what we came here for. Put on your ugly aprons. It’s showtime,” Viv said, handing us each one.
“Ready, Dottie?” I asked, squeezing her hand.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, chewing on her hair, her cheeks bright red.
“Promise me you’ll play one song on the guitar?” I said, thinking of Miss Chambers’s warning. “Just one, please?”
“Yes, you have to, Dottie, at least one,” Viv said.