Home Front Girls

swooned over, they then went back to the magazine headquarters where Laura made tea and fussed over Dotty like a mother hen. She was very fond of Dotty and sometimes felt like banging Robert over the head with something heavy to bring him to his senses, because she had a sneaky suspicion that he was in love with the girl but was too shy to tell her so. From what she could make of it, Dotty was taken with him too, yet today for some reason the pair were skirting around each other like ballet dancers. It was all very frustrating. Why couldn’t they see what was right under their noses? But of course she kept her counsel and said nothing, tutting in exasperation when they finally left together to go for some lunch.
    ‘Would you like to join us?’ Robert had asked politely.
    Laura had grinned. ‘No, thank you. You know what they say – two is company, three is a crowd.’ She had winked at them blatantly but all her comment managed to do was make both of them blush and so she gave up and went back to work.
    The rest of the day passed in a blur and all too soon the couple were standing on the platform of Euston station again.
    ‘That’s my train in over there,’ Dotty said, suddenly feeling as if the cat had got her tongue. ‘I er . . . I’d better get on otherwise I might not get a seat. It’s always so busy at this time of day.’ She had booked her return journey for two hours earlier than she normally departed and now she was wishing that she hadn’t.
    ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Robert too was feeling awkward and as much as he longed to give her a kiss, her stand-off attitude throughout the day had made him fear that his advances might be unwelcome. And so they shook hands formally and soon Dotty was staring from the carriage window looking for a sight of him. He usually waved until she was out of sight but today he had disappeared amongst the crowds and had not bothered waiting for her train to leave. Everything had gone exactly as she had planned, so she wondered why she felt so empty.

Chapter Twenty-Five
     
    It was on Annabelle’s birthday that the next bombshell was dropped, but it wasn’t by the Germans. They were all gathered in Miranda’s luxurious front room late in the afternoon and everyone was impressed by the buffet she had managed to put on, assisted by Dotty. Everyone but Annabelle, that is, who had been in a bad mood ever since Lucy and her grandparents had arrived. Lucy had presented her with a pretty silver ring, which Annabelle barely glanced at, and Dotty had bought her a bottle of the latest bright red nail polish and matching lipstick that were so popular at the time. Both Dotty and Lucy took to Annabelle’s grandparents immediately. In their late sixties, they were impeccably dressed and very well-spoken but they were also very friendly, so the atmosphere was light, or it would have been if Annabelle had tried a little.
    Her grandmother presented her with a beautiful solid gold brooch in the shape of a delicate leaf, set with emeralds, that had everyone’s eyes on stalks as they admired it. Neither Lucy nor Dotty had ever seen anything quite like it. But in her usual self-centred way, Annabelle merely glanced at it.
    ‘I do hope you like it, dear?’ her grandmother said as she noted Annabelle’s reaction to it. ‘And that you’re having a nice birthday?’
    The girl was thinking of the birthday party she felt she should have had, and her mood worsened each time she caught a glimpse of the For Sale board at the end of the drive through the front window.
    ‘I suppose it’s very nice but it would have been better still if someone had managed to get their hands on some silk stockings. I’m sick and tired of having to wear these awful thick lisle things! They’re so unbecoming.’
    ‘Annabelle, really!’ her mother scolded as she squirmed with embarrassment. ‘I’m sure the brooch is much better than any number of pairs of stockings. It’s something you’ll be able to keep forever. And one day you might be able to pass it on to your own daughter and tell her that it was a twenty-first gift from your grandparents.’
    ‘I suppose so,’ Annabelle said ungratefully, dropping it onto the sofa as if it was nothing more than a cheap trinket from Woolworth’s.
    Her grandmother pursed her lips disapprovingly, but not wishing to spoil the occasion she told Miranda, ‘The tea looks lovely, dear. Quite a feast, in fact, when food is in such short supply. Did you make those