‘It would only be for an hour, twice a week,’ he continued, refusing to give up. ‘The classes are in the evenings, and there’s nothing to stop you dropping out if you decided they weren’t for you.’
‘It was kind of you to think of me, Mr Holcombe. Perhaps when I haven’t got quite so much on my plate.’ She stood up and shook hands with the schoolmaster.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help you with your problem, Mrs Clifton,’ he said as he accompanied her to the door. ‘Mind you, it’s a nice problem to have.’
‘It was good of you to spare the time, Mr Holcombe,’ she replied before leaving. Maisie walked back down the corridor, across the playground and out through the school gates. She stood on the pavement and stared at the notice board. How she wished she could read.
27
MAISIE HAD ONLY taken a taxi a couple of times in her life: once to Harry’s wedding in Oxford, and then only from the local station, and on a second occasion, quite recently, when she’d attended her father’s funeral. So when an American staff car drew up outside 27 Still House Lane, she felt a little embarrassed, and only hoped the neighbours had their curtains drawn.
As she came down the staircase wearing her new red silk dress with padded shoulders and belted at the waist – very fashionable before the war – she spotted her mother and Stan staring out of the window.
The driver got out of the car and knocked on the front door. He looked unsure that he’d come to the right address. But when Maisie opened the door, he understood immediately why the major had invited this particular belle to the regimental dance. He gave Maisie a smart salute and opened the back door of the car.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘but I’d prefer to sit in the front.’
Once the driver had found his way back on to the main road, Maisie asked him how long he’d been working for Major Mulholland.
‘All my life, ma’am. Man and boy.’
‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Maisie.
‘We both come from Raleigh, North Carolina. Once this war’s over, I’ll be goin’ home to my old job in the major’s factory.’
‘I didn’t know the major owned a factory.’
‘Several, ma’am. In Raleigh, he’s known as the Corn-on-the-Cob King.’
‘Corn on the cob?’ queried Maisie.
‘You ain’t seen nothin’ like it in Bristol, ma’am. To truly appreciate corn on the cob, it has to be boiled, covered in melting butter and eaten straight after it’s picked – and preferably in North Carolina.’
‘So who’s running the factories while the Corn-on-the-Cob King is away fighting the Germans?’
‘Young Joey, his second son, with a little help from his sister Sandy, would be my guess.’
‘He has a son and a daughter back home?’
‘Had two sons and a daughter, ma’am, but sadly Mike Junior was shot down over the Philippines.’
Maisie wanted to ask the corporal about Mike senior’s wife, but felt that the young man might have been embarrassed by questions on that subject, so she moved on to safer ground and asked about his home state. ‘Finest in the forty-eight,’ he replied, and didn’t stop talking about North Carolina until they reached the camp gate.
When the guard spotted the car, he immediately raised the barrier and gave Maisie a smart salute as they drove on into the compound. ‘The major asked me to take you straight to his quarters, ma’am, so you can have a drink before going across to the dance.’
The car drew up outside a small prefabricated house and she spotted Mike standing on the doorstep waiting to greet her. She jumped out of the car before the driver could open the door, and walked quickly up the path to join him. He bent down, kissed her on the cheek and said, ‘Come on in, honey, I’d like you to meet some of my colleagues.’ He took her coat and added, ‘You look just swell.’
‘Like one of your corn on the cobs?’ suggested Maisie.
‘More like one of our North Carolina peaches,’ he said as he guided her towards a noisy room, full of laughter and animated voices. ‘Now let’s make everyone jealous, because they’re about to find out that I’m escorting the belle of the ball.’
Maisie entered a room filled with officers and their dates. She couldn’t have been made to feel more welcome. She couldn’t help wondering, if she’d been the guest of an English major a few miles up the road at the Wessex regimental HQ, would they also have treated her as their equal?
Mike guided her around the room, introducing her to all his colleagues, including the camp commander, who clearly approved. As she moved from group to group, she couldn’t help noticing several photographs scattered around the room, on tables, bookshelves and the mantelpiece, of what could only have been Mike’s wife and children.