Flying Angels(41)

“You’re not like that,” Emma said in an admiring tone.

“No, I’m not. But I’m a lone voice in what I consider a very dark world.”

“I don’t think Pru feels that way about her family, her parents sound like nice people. They took in a huge number of children who had been evacuated from London, many of whom are orphans now. Her people just bore her, although I’ve never liked the idea of aristocrats. But she’s the only one I’ve ever actually met, and she’s a lovely person.” Emma sounded sincere as she said it, and deeply affectionate toward Pru. Everyone loved Pru. She was what aristocrats should be, and often weren’t, and an example to others.

   “My family disgusts me,” Alex said bluntly. “I’m ashamed to be one of them.”

“Maybe you can do things differently when you go back. People think that the war will change things here, in the social system, and it might. Although I don’t have much hope for it. We British are so steeped in our traditions, and part of that is keeping the lower classes down and not giving them a chance to make something of themselves. Whatever you’re born is what you stay here, forever. I’ll always be a poor, low-class girl from the slums here. America is the land of opportunity. It’s different there. And things will probably change there. Women have joined the workforce, even here. They’ve managed everything—family businesses, children, jobs—while their husbands were at war. They can’t just shut women away and ignore them again when the war ends. We have a voice now. And that should be true in your world too. You should be able to do what you want and be what you want when you go back to America.”

“I don’t think my family believes that,” Alex said seriously, impressed by what Emma had said to her, and even more so by what she had overcome to survive poverty, go to nursing school and become a midwife, and now what she was doing in the RAF with the air evacuation transports. She had really made something of herself, no matter what class she had started out in. “You know, you’ve really defied the class system yourself,” Alex reminded her.

   “Pru says that too, but I doubt that any other aristocrat would admit that or give me credit for it. Pru is a very special woman, and a very caring human being. Most of them aren’t.”

“Her parents sound like they are, with all those children and orphans they took in. Not many people would do that. My family certainly wouldn’t,” Alex said thoughtfully.

“Maybe you can teach them a new way,” Emma said gently. “You have to try when you go home. We all have to make things different. It’s the only reward for having been through this. It has to change all of us, and make this a better world, for everyone.” What Emma said was very moving, but idealistic too. In a perfect world she was right. But Alex knew that the world was far from perfect. It was broken now, and would take years to repair. And not everyone would want to come out of the war and make it a better place for others. Alex wished it, but she had trouble believing it would happen and imagining her family in that role. They would just complain about how hard it was to find servants, or how much things cost, or that the hotels that they liked in the South of France were still closed. They wouldn’t care about the reasons for it, or what they could do to change it. Emma had a profound visceral distrust of the British upper classes and aristocracy. But who knew, maybe the class system would alter slightly and the world would change after all. And in the meantime, Emma was grateful for people like Pru and Alex, who didn’t give a fig about it and accepted her as she was, East End accent and all.

They had dinner with the others that night, and Alex talked about how impressive their missions had been. All of the nurses felt that. The air evacuation program was accomplishing what it was meant to, and they were saving a significant number of lives. The War Office was very pleased with it.



* * *



—

   Ed showed up at the pub that night and stopped by to talk to them. Lizzie was with her friends, and Emma and Alex were deep in conversation. Pru wasn’t at the pub with them. He sat next to Lizzie for a few minutes. He was enjoying working with her.

“Where’s Pru?” he asked.

“She had a headache and went to bed,” Lizzie said, and slid over on the banquette in a booth to make room for him. He perched next to her to chat for a few minutes. He liked talking to her in the times when they weren’t busy with patients during the flights. Sometimes it was insanely hectic, and then quieter at other times, between missions.

“I thought about what you said on the first transport we flew together, about losing your man at Pearl Harbor. It’s hard to get past something like that. It happened to me with Belinda. By now, most of us have lost someone we cared about, or loved, or wanted to marry, or were married to, or a sibling, or a friend. No one escapes it entirely, but you can’t let it stop you from living. Their destiny happened the way it was meant to, but we still have ours to live. We’re all young. One day the war will be over, and we’ll have our futures back, if we live through it. Don’t spend the rest of your life or too many years mourning, Liz. It’s not my place to say that to you, but I say it as a friend. I’ve been through it too. I finally realized that Belinda wouldn’t have wanted me to mourn her forever. She wasn’t that kind of person. She was full of life. Maybe your man was too.”