Page 94 of Never Tear Us Apart
‘Quite right,’ she says, straightening her shoulders. ‘Though it is hard to bear knowing that I will be only thesecondmost beautiful girl at the dance tonight.’
‘Now that,’ I tell her, ‘really is ridiculous. No one can ever outshine you, Miss Ratcliffe. You are a star.’
* * *
I seem to be holding my breath as I head downstairs towards where Stella is waiting. When she looks up at me a slow smile spreads over her face, and I release a long sigh of relief. Stella stands to greet me at the foot of the stairs.
‘You look . . .’ She falters.
‘Yes?’
‘You look like me,’ she says, with a little laugh of uncharacteristic delight. ‘Like I did two children and a thousand years ago. My dear girl, you could be my sister.’ She embraces me lightly, kissing me on either cheek. ‘This is fitting,’ she says approvingly, ‘for a dance with the flight lieutenant.’
‘It really is,’ Christina says, coming down the stairs behind me. ‘And now, you look far too pretty to carry anything. I’ll just have to get more lads in.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Alex offers. ‘And you do look ravishing, Maia. You truly do.’
‘Well.’ Stella nods. ‘I will go back to Sal. He is cooking for us. Have a wonderful evening.’ She thinks for a moment. ‘But don’t drink too much, and don’t get pregnant.’
‘Copy that,’ I say, saluting her as she leaves.
‘Well.’ Christina puts one arm around me and one around Alex. ‘The hour is upon us at last.’
Chapter Sixty-Eight
‘Well, now, aren’t I the lucky chap, getting to walk in with the two most beautiful women in Malta?’ Adrian Warburton, tall, fair and handsome, offers Christina and me an arm each. The rooms at the ERA club are already packed, and the Royal Engineers band is in full swing. The room smells of smoke and perfume, undercut with sweat and something else, perhaps the desire to throw caution to the winds and forget everything.
A cheer goes up at the sight of Christina, who is immediately co-opted by Alex and taken somewhere he refers to as ‘backstage’.
‘May I get you a glass of something?’ Warby offers. ‘Not a huge selection, but we do have some rather nice wine and quite a lot of terrible whisky that will put hairs on your chest.’
‘I’ll take the wine, please,’ I say, and he leaves me standing by a pillar as he heads to the bar. Judging by the amount of times he is stopped, clapped on the back and congratulated for his latest act of daring on the way, I am not expecting refreshment any time soon.
Even in Stella’s gorgeous gown, I instinctively feel like a wallflower – hardly surprising when I come from a place where couples dance near each other rather than together, and instead of swirling in elegant unison around the dance floor, we mostly just jig about. Leaning against the pillar, rather hoping that I am more or less invisible, I am content to take in the crowded room.
Everyone here has put on a show, as Christina would say. The women have dusted off long-packed-away gowns, painted stocking seams on their legs and found something to rouge their cheeks with. As for the men – oh, the men. Freshly shaved, uniforms pressed, they all look a million dollars. Yes, if you look very closely, you can see the shadows under their eyes, the hollows in their cheeks, the strain on their faces – on everyone’s faces. Yet, for a few hours at least, maybe even a whole night, they have put away their cares and worries to dance.
As for myself, I have a secret rendezvous to wait for. I have no idea who will be approaching me, only that when they do, they will whisper one particular phrase, then we are to find a quiet place to talk. That could happen at any moment. I’m not sure what I’m more nervous about – my meeting with a spy or seeing Danny again.
Except that there’s no sign of him. No matter how much I look, while trying my hardest not to look, Danny is nowhere to be seen, and all kinds of terrifying thoughts cross my mind. I am about to go and look for him when the Whizz Bangs appear on the makeshift stage and the crowd applauds wildly. Shrill whistles and shouts of delight almost raise the rafters.
‘Back to thrill you for one night only,’ Christina purrs into the microphone. ‘The famous Whizz Bangs are here to whizz your bang and bang your whizz. Take it away, girls!’
Warby arrives at my shoulder and hands me a glass of warm wine. Christina, Alex and the rest of the concert party kick off their set with a spirited rendition of ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’. The partygoers whoop with every twirl and high kick, catcall and howl with laughter at Alex’s saucepan-lid bra.
‘Lights up a room, doesn’t she?’ Warby says fondly as he watches Christina ham it up, a lopsided grin on his face. ‘Never met a woman like her, never will again. Rather afraid she’s got me for good, you know. Hope she won’t mind. Mind you, I’ll have to track the wife down and divorce her, last I heard she ran off with a Yank.’
‘Just don’t break Christina’s heart,’ I tell him. ‘She deserves to be happy, and I get the distinct impression she’d be delighted never to see the back of you.’
‘Not easy when your heart’s set on a pilot,’ Warby tells me, with a kind of paternal concern. ‘Christina finds it rather trying sometimes.’
‘Is that when you are off on secret missions to buy wine?’ I smile.
‘Ah, yes, well.’ He smiles sheepishly. ‘How is it that everyone knows about that particular covert operation?’ He spots something out of the corner of his eye and digs me in the ribs with his elbow.
‘Ouch,’ I protest.
‘Attention!’ Warby tells me, as if he’s issuing a command. ‘Target acquired at nine o’clock.’
