I opened the driver’s side door and climbed in as he shut it for me. Our faces were only inches from each other now as I started up the jeep and the engine roared to life. His breath smelled like coffee and peppermint gum. A quiet pause. I was barely breathing.
“You’re good to go,” he said, his voice quiet as he patted the door.
“Thanks again,” I said, feeling flushed. “Good night.”
“Good night, and drive safe,” he said.
Heading off into the night with Jimmy softly snoring beside me, I saw Captain Moretti wave good-bye in my rearview mirror.
Chapter Fifteen
September 9, 1944
A few days after our disastrous observation, we said our sad good-byes to Frankie, Blanche, and Martha before they left for their journey to France. Frustrated and more than a little envious, I was even more determined now to get to the Continent. Jimmy had started giving me driving lessons in the evenings whenever he was sober and able. I kept managing our supplies and keeping meticulous paperwork and logs. I had even taken on some of Liz’s work—compiling reports regarding output and productivity for London headquarters.
Viv and Dottie shared my frustration and had also begun doing everything they could to change Miss Chambers’s perception of us. Viv was working harder than she ever had, no longer handing off all of her chores to any adoring GI nearby. And the way she could charm the most downtrodden soldiers with her teasing and banter was truly something to behold.
To everyone’s relief, Dottie’s arm was healing quickly, and she had finally come out of her shell, playing guitar and leading sing-alongs more often, delighting the men with her large repertoire of songs. Despite their begging and pleading, she had yet to sing a solo for anyone, but we were hopeful she was working up the courage.
“So are you going to even give us a hint about who’s coming tonight?” Viv asked Dottie as she sat down at the mirror in our room, styling her curls into perfect victory rolls.
We were getting ready for a night out, a private concert at Leicester’s De Montfort Hall for all of the soon-to-be-departing US troops. It was the biggest venue in the city and could hold up to three thousand people. The most curious thing about the concert was that nobody knew who was performing—the army had kept it top secret. Nobody, that is, except for key personnel, including one army bandleader named Joe Brandon. And he had shared the secret with Dottie, who refused to tell us.
“Is it an American band or a British one?” I asked. “Or maybe it’s not even a band, just a singer? Vera Lynn? Or Bing Crosby?”
“I told you, I am absolutely sworn to secrecy by Joe,” Dottie said with a mischievous grin. She was enjoying our curiosity far too much. “It’s the best surprise. The army wants to keep it under wraps because most of the Eighty-Second is heading out in a few days, and, well, it’s that big.” She clapped her hands.
“Oh come on, you can’t even give us a little hint?” I asked, applying my lipstick and trying to get my own hair to behave.
“Not even a little one,” she said. “I promised Joe. He’s helping with the setup right now, might even be playing tonight. Who knows?”
“Speaking of playing, when is he going to dump his hometown girl for you?” Viv said.
“Maybe never,” Dottie said with a shrug. “I can’t lie to you two, I’ve still got a crush, but we’re just friends. And he has been a perfect gentleman since our conversation the day I cut my arm.”
“He better be,” I said. “Or we’ll sic Vera Lynn on him.”
“He really has,” Dottie said. “Talking to him is like talking to a friend I’ve known forever. But I keep reminding myself that he’s leaving soon for God knows where. I may never see him again. This war is crazy, and it makes it hard to plan for anything. Or anybody.”
“Has he even mentioned Mary Jane lately?” I asked.
“He hasn’t, and I haven’t asked. I honestly don’t really want to know,” Dottie said, shaking her head.
There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Tibbetts peeked in on us.
“I know you’re getting ready for the concert—oh! Look at you—you all look beautiful in your dresses. Just gorgeous,” Mrs. Tibbetts said, smiling.
For the first time in weeks, we were allowed to don civilian clothes, so we were wearing the dresses we had worn to the Paramount our last night in London, the only ones we had with us.
“I forgot to give you these letters Liz dropped off earlier. I knew you’d want to read them straightaway,” she added, passing them out to us. We ripped them open like Christmas presents. I still had that anxiety in the pit of my stomach, fearing bad news, but I was feeling so homesick I tore into the letters from my parents and my sisters anyway.
“Any news about Danny, Fi?” I looked up to see that Dottie and Viv were watching me, their own letters open in their laps.
“Nothing, thanks for asking,” I said. “I scanned them quickly, and now I’m going to take my time and enjoy reading them.”
After we read in quiet for a few moments, Dottie broke the silence. “Well, Richie says he may never forgive me for the fact that I’m going to miss his entire high school football season. And my mother said cooking Sunday dinner is no fun without me.” She looked up at us, her eyes watering.
“I know I complain about my sisters, but I adore them, even though they drive me crazy. It’s just hitting me that I might not see Aria’s new baby, Gianna, until she’s almost a year old,” Viv said with a sad smile. “My first niece.”
“The twins are making me feel guilty about missing their last high school play,” I said as I traced the silly pictures they had drawn on the sides of their letter. “They’re doing You Can’t Take It with You, and Darcy is playing one of the leads.”
The three of us sat there, rereading our letters, each of us aching for home in our own way.
“All right, girls, enough; this is too depressing,” Viv said, waving her hands in the air and standing up. “We’re going to go out and have some fun; we deserve it.” She faced the mirror to apply one more coat of lipstick.
“You’re right,” I said, putting the letters aside and standing behind her, fussing with the flower in my hair one last time. “It’s Saturday night; no use sitting here feeling miserable.”
“And I promise you, this concert is going to be just the best,” Dottie said, standing up and smoothing out her dress. “I was about to start crying, and I would have ruined my makeup, so let’s go. Are you girls ready? I think I just heard Jimmy pull up out front.”
We headed downstairs to catch our ride.
“I love that we can wear actual dresses for a change,” Viv said, twirling around in hers. “I’m so tired of wearing that scratchy blue clown suit every damn day.”
We gave Mrs. Tibbetts kisses on the cheek as we were leaving, promising to tell her all the details when we got home. Jimmy let out a long whistle when we walked out front to meet him.
“You girls look brilliant,” Jimmy said, opening the door to the jeep with a bow. “You’re also looking very well this evenin’, Mrs. Tibbetts.”
“Why, thank you, Jimmy, please come early for tea next time you pick up the girls,” she said.
I noticed Jimmy had taken more care tonight. His hair was slicked back, and his Red Cross uniform was neatly pressed. The biggest surprise was that he appeared to be completely sober. Dottie gave me a wink when we got in the car. Now that we knew about Jimmy’s family, we had a newfound perspective on our often-drunk driver. And we had been trying to do things to boost his spirits, like convince Joe Brandon to get him a ticket for the concert tonight.
“Off we go, then,” he said. “There’s cups and an open bottle of champagne back there for ya. One of the fellas gave it to me; ain’t got a taste for the stuff.”
Viv poured us each a cup and we toasted as Jimmy pulled away from Mrs. Tibbetts’s.
“I cannot wait to see your faces when you find out the surprise,” Dottie said as she took a sip of champagne. “This is going to be such a great night.”
De Montfort Hall was a mile outside the center of Leicester on the edge of Victoria Park and the university. It was a beautiful old white stone building, with a low peaked roof and an impressive entryway flanked by large white columns on either side.
Jimmy dropped us as close as he could to the front and then went to park the jeep. We joined the line of hundreds of soldiers and US Red Cross personnel flowing inside. The excitement and anticipation of the crowd wafted through the chilly autumn air.
“Excuse me, I say, is that Miss Viviana Occhipinti?” said Harry Westwood, who had somehow materialized behind us in line, tapping Viv on the shoulder. “You won’t reply to my letters, so the very least you can do is dance with me tonight.”
“I thought this was US troops only,” she said, teasing him. “What are you doing here?”
“As I have told you before, I have friends in very high places.” He shrugged and pulled out a lighter for her cigarette.
Dottie looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“So you will dance with me, then, won’t you?” he said, looking into her eyes.