No one was feeling much like a party with the fresh grief over Martha, but the girls had done their best to make things festive for the holiday. There was a Christmas tree in the corner by the window decorated with red bunting and cotton balls. A buffet table had been assembled, and I tried not to pile my plate too high with some of the treats we hadn’t had in months, most of which had been donated from Christmas packages from home—cheese, bread, canapés made of anchovies and lobster, melba toast, nuts, figs, stuffed dates, and Christmas fruitcake.
We found some seats by the fireplace, and Blanche and Frankie brought over our mail. My parents and sisters had sent me an amazing care package that included another red wool scarf and matching socks, two new Chanel lipsticks, and several cakes of Harriet Hubbard Ayer soap. It also included jars of jellies, lollipops, cocoa packets, and a package of Mallomars, still intact, which I immediately opened and passed out to my friends.
“I haven’t had one of these in ages,” Dottie said, closing her eyes after biting into one.
“So Viv, are you going to open at least one letter from Harry?” I said.
“I can’t decide,” Viv said, twisting her mouth, trying to make up her mind.
“I’ll open one for you,” Blanche said. “I’m dying to know what he has to say in all those letters.”
“Not yet,” Viv said. “I need to enjoy my punch and think about it. What’s new with Captain Guy, Blanche?”
“We’re keeping in touch,” Blanche said, her face lighting up at the mention of him. “He’s pretty dreamy.”
“What’s in the package, Dottie?” Frankie said.
“It’s a bunch of new records I ordered from a shop in Boston,” Dottie said, lifting some out to show us. “‘Rum and Coca-Cola’ by the Andrews Sisters, ‘Long Ago and Far Away’ and ‘Take the “A” Train’ by my new friend Glenn Miller and his band.”
“Oh my God, you haven’t heard,” Blanche said, looking at us. “Of course, you wouldn’t have, you were cut off.”
“Heard what?” Dottie asked. “Oh no . . .”
“Glenn Miller is missing. He was on a small plane heading over the channel to Paris,” Blanche said.
“What?” Dottie said, hugging his record and looking like she might start crying again.
“It’s true.” Frankie nodded. “Everyone has been following the story. I’m afraid he’s gone.”
“But . . . no, he can’t just be gone,” Dottie said. “What about his band? They must be devastated. That night, meeting him? That was one of the best nights of my life.”
We sat there in silence for a moment, and I could tell Dottie and Viv were also remembering that beautiful night in Leicester when Dottie finally revealed her talent.
“Enough sad talk; Martha wouldn’t want us sitting around here crying all night. I’m getting us some more punch,” Blanche said, grabbing our glasses. “And when I get back, I want to hear all about the great adventure you were just on, especially any romantic parts.”
“And, you know, then I think we might have to put those records on and jitterbug,” I said. “In honor of our beautiful friend and her dance skills that put us all to shame.”
Liz gave the three of us the next few days off to recover from our ordeal behind the lines. We had real mattresses for the first time in weeks, and we spent most of the time sleeping, writing letters home by the fire, or catching up with friends, sharing stories about Martha and crying when we needed to. All of Group F was devastated by her death, but for the five of us who had known her the best and loved her dearly, it was hard to comprehend that she would never be coming back to us. It was also a grim reminder for all the Clubmobile girls that we were more than just spectators observing the tragedies of war. If it could happen to Martha, it could happen to any of us.
On New Year’s Eve, Group F and some soldiers stationed close by planned a party for a nearby orphanage run by French nuns, and it was a welcome distraction from the fresh grief over our friend. When we arrived, it was clear that the soldiers had been spending most of their free time there, because they were greeted by the children as if they were movie stars. They played ball and tossed the kids around as they squealed with delight. It was a brisk day, but the sun was out, so the nuns insisted on having the party outside.
Dottie, Viv, and I passed out doughnuts, hot cocoa, and little bags of candy from the Cheyenne, and watched as one of the soldiers, who was dressed like a clown, performed basic magic tricks using coins and scarves. Two little girls, one with curly black hair, the other with light-brown braids, were in the simple navy-blue smocks that many of the girls wore, under frayed wool coats that were at least one size too small. The girls were standing together enjoying the clown, mesmerized. They didn’t speak to each other; instead, they just communicated with their hands, and I realized they didn’t speak the same language. The clown pulled a coin out of the curly-haired girl’s ear, and they both collapsed into each other giggling.
“Where are all these children from?” I asked one of the nuns who spoke English. She had dark-brown hair and gray-blue eyes and looked no older than me.
“Everywhere,” she said, looking around, delighted at the sight of many of her charges seeming so happy. “France, Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands.”
“Even Germany?”
“Yes,” she said. She had a wistful look as she watched the two little girls. “They have suffered too much for ones so young. They have lost everything, yet they still laugh. They still love.”
A jeep drove up, and I was surprised when Joe and Colonel Brooks, holding a cane, climbed out. Dottie quickly distributed the bags of candy in her hands and hurried over to greet them.
“Fiona,” the colonel said. “You’re one of the girls I came here to see.”
“It’s so good to see you. How are you feeling, Colonel Brooks?” I said, climbing down from the Cheyenne to take a break from passing out sweets. I’m not sure if he was embarrassed by it, yet I couldn’t help but give him a hug.
“Better,” he said, his pale complexion reddening a little at my affection. He looked much better than the last time I had seen him. He nodded to his brown wooden cane. “Can’t wait to get rid of this damn thing, though. I came because I wanted to let you and your friends know that I have kept my promise. I’ve talked to the major general of the Twenty-Eighth, and we’re writing to the War Office to recommend that the three of you receive Bronze Stars for meritorious achievement in a combat zone. Unfortunately, we’re not empowered to award decorations to civilians, or I’d do it myself.”
“Sir, I . . . I don’t even know what to say,” I said. “We were just doing what we had to. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“It’s deserved. You three saved my life, according to the doctors,” he said. “Well, you and that Kraut who stitched me up. I may not have let him touch me if I had been conscious.”
“Bronze Stars,” Dottie said, holding Joe’s hand. “I have to write my parents tonight to tell them.”
“Viv just went to get coffee. Here she comes, Colonel.” I spotted Viv walking toward us, carrying two cups, but her eyes were on something behind us. Another truck was approaching.
When she reached us, Colonel Brooks informed her of his recommendation for the Bronze Stars. She just stared at him, moved beyond words. She put the coffee cups down and gave him a hug.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for the honor.”
By this time, the truck had pulled into the courtyard of the orphanage and parked.
“Ah, the Brits are here too,” the colonel said. “Quite the New Year’s party.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Viv said in a soft voice, watching as a half dozen Allied soldiers got out, Harry Westwood the second to last one. He did a double take when he saw us standing with the colonel. He walked over slowly, sheepishly, not taking his eyes off Viv the whole time.
“What are you doing here?” Viv said to him, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was tied up in a red kerchief, and she had a streak of doughnut flour on her cheek.
“We’re heading to Germany like just about everyone else,” he said. “We heard about the party and wanted to stop by. Did you receive any of my letters?”
“Just last night,” she said. “I haven’t read them yet.”
“I think it might be time for the sing-along soon,” Dottie said. “Joe, want to come with me and lend a hand?” Joe nodded, and they walked away.
“Viviana, might I have a word with you, alone?” Harry said, anguished. “There’s so much I have to say to you.”
“Harry, whatever you have to say, you can say it right here,” Viv said to him. Viv shot me a look, making it clear she didn’t want me leaving too.
The colonel kept looking back and forth between the two of them, not hiding his amusement at the drama playing out in front of us.
“All right, if that’s the way you prefer it,” Harry said. “I was a daft fool in Paris. I regret what I said about my family. I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Viviana. I want you to meet my family, and I don’t give a damn what they think about my being in lo—” He stopped himself and looked at me and the colonel. “Being with an American. I want you to be a part of my life, a part of my future. Please, darling, I’m begging you to give me another chance.”