The Light Over London(57)

“Not all of them,” said Louise.

“She’s right. Things are changing,” said Vera.

“You don’t think my idea’s silly then?” Charlie asked, and Louise’s heart broke just a little knowing that at some point in her life someone had told her friend that it was silly. Just like she’d been told time after time that Haybourne would be her life.

“It’s not sillier than my idea,” Louise said firmly. “I thought that after this war I might go to California and see if there’s a university that will enroll me. I want to study maths.”

“California?” said Charlie, eyes wide. “It seems like a whole world away.”

“It is,” said Louise with a grin, “and wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“Stop,” Charlie ordered and they all abruptly halted. She lifted her camera and pointed to a spot where the walkway jutted out in a little mock battlement. “Lou, go stand over there. I’m going to take your picture.”

Louise rolled her eyes at Charlie’s bossiness but went to the spot anyway.

“Now turn to face the water,” Charlie ordered. “Good. And look back at me. Tell me where it is in California you want to live.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, the breeze lifting up her hair.

“Hollywood?” Vera asked.

Louise shook her head. “My cousin Kate’s obsessed with Hollywood and I like the pictures enough, but I think I’d want to be somewhere close to the beach. I’ve lived by the water my entire life.”

“I hope it’s cleaner than the Thames,” Vera said, peering over the edge.

“Anything’s cleaner than the Thames,” Charlie muttered, still lining up the shot. “Can you laugh?”

Louise did her best to titter while looking back over her shoulder.

Charlie looked up. “Can you not look like you’re trying to make it through a painfully dull cocktail party?”

“What am I supposed to laugh about then?” she asked.

“Hatfield falling on his backside yesterday night,” said Vera, that snort sounding again. “I can’t believe he fell asleep standing up.”

Louise’s chuckle was genuine this time. “It serves him right when he spent half the morning trying to flirt with one of the orderlies in the canteen.”

“Says who?” Vera asked.

“Says Cartruse,” said Louise.

“Got it. You’re free to move about again, Lou.” Charlie wound the film to prepare it for the next shot that struck her fancy. “You and Cartruse are close, aren’t you?”

Once she might’ve blushed, but she knew these women too well. They lived together, ate together, and fought together. There was little left to hide.

“I warmed to him after he stopped being so rude in training camp. He’s a friend,” she said.

“Just see to it that your flier doesn’t get the wrong idea,” said Charlie.

“For him to get the wrong idea, he’d have to actually come to London,” Louise grumbled.



Despite weeks of teasing that they’d all take their first twenty-four-hour leave in London to scatter to the wind and finally get some time away from one another, B Section all met up by silent agreement at the NAAFI near the Charlton Barracks that evening.

Louise walked through the doors with Charlie and Vera, and the excited sound of service members letting loose rose up around her. A gangly man in an RAF uniform was playing “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm” on the piano, and a couple of Women’s Auxiliary Air Force girls in distinctive blue WAAF uniforms were leaning down to flirt with him.

“There they are,” said Vera, tugging on Louise’s and Charlie’s arms and guiding them around a pack of marines to the tables where Mary, Nigella, Lizzie, and Hatfield sat.

Dropping down into a chair, Charlie said, “I’m bushed. I think we walked half of London today.”

“Cartruse and Williams are just fetching some tea,” said Mary.

“I still don’t know how we wound up here rather than the pub,” Hatfield grouched.

Lizzie batted Hatfield on the arm, and Nigella ducked her chin with a smile. Louise had noticed in the last few weeks that Nigella seemed to have progressed from having a hopeless crush on Hatfield to being mildly amused by him. Hopefully the sweetest member of their unit had decided Hatfield, who had an eye for every woman who crossed his path—except the gunner girls of B Section—was best left alone, but Nigella was timid enough that Louise didn’t dare ask. Vera, who had assumed something of the mother hen role, would hear it from Nigella herself soon enough.

“The tourists are back.” Williams laughed as he bobbled a tray laden with teacups and glasses of juice in his effort to set it down.

“Careful there!” Lizzie said, steadying his arm.

“Where’s Cartruse?” Vera asked.

Williams shrugged. “Talking to some bloke he knows from Putney. How was your adventure?”

“It feels like we’ve seen all of London,” said Louise, “but these two tell me I haven’t even scratched the surface.”

“It’s too bad so much of the city’s a wreck,” said Mary.

“Even Buckingham Palace was hit,” said Nigella.