‘I can’t dance,’ she hissed after him.
He heard the hiss, stopped, turned round and laughed. ‘Of course you can. Relax, Grace, dancing is a natural animal mode of expression.’
‘An animal mode of expression. Thanks very much, Doctor.’ At least she had told him.
‘When my mother went into service, it took a regiment of servants to carry buckets of hot water upstairs for baths, Grace. People didn’t have a bath every day. Hot water straight from a tap is wonderful, isn’t it?’
Grace was on her way upstairs to take a bath before dressing for the dance. She certainly did not want to tell Mrs Love that there had been no running water at all in the house in which she grew up and so she merely agreed. To her surprise, Mrs Love kept beside her as they progressed up the stairs.
‘Spending quite a bit of time with young Jack, Grace. Not sure her ladyship would think that a good idea. A girl has to think of her good name, you know.’
Grace stopped in the middle of the staircase. ‘My good name. What do you mean?’
‘No need to get uppity. I have a responsibility. Until other girls arrive, you’re the only woman in a houseful of men.’
‘Harry and Jack hardly make up a houseful, Mrs Love. Besides, I never see them in the house, except at the table.’
‘I know that and you know that, but you’re going to a village dance tonight and the village doesn’t know that. Just be careful.’
Her joyful anticipation of a pleasant evening somewhat spoiled, Grace hurried past her.
‘I see you’ve had his wireless the past two days. That’s nice.’
Grace longed to say that listening to the wireless was more interesting than listening to Mrs Love but she restrained herself. Jack had handed her the wireless in full view of the assembled farm workers. Seemingly, Bob Hazel had taken a larger wireless out of an uninhabited cottage a few days before and had put it in the men’s dormitory. Jack had loaned his much smaller one to Grace; there was nothing more to it than that. Surely, Mrs Love knew that.
She switched on the radio when she reached her room. How cheering it was to hear music and the evening news, although she would not be hearing that this evening. She would be dancing. A recording by the great Joe Loss and his band was playing as she took out her frock – she’d removed the tie – a carefully reserved pair of stockings, not silk, and her sole pair of elegant shoes. In a few weeks, Grace, who had assiduously saved what remained of her pay after the amount for her food was taken off, intended to buy white sandals for the summer. For the first time in her life, she had a little money of her own and could buy whatever she wanted. So far, clothing was not rationed but probably would be, like everything except those foods classed as non-essentials. Clothes rationing was ‘only a matter of time’. She went off to the bathroom, thinking how perfectly the white sandals she could see in her mind would look with the green frock. Perhaps Jack would ask her to walk out with him. She could see them, hand in hand, walking along beside one of the streams on the estate, her new sandals startling white against the green grass …
No, Grace, don’t rush, she told herself, and stepped into the lovely hot water.
To her surprise, and slight disappointment, Harry and Esau had both decided to go to the dance. Esau said that he looked forward to an evening of company with farm workers he knew from the area, and Harry, who assured Grace that he would not ask her to dance with him, was looking forward to live music.
‘I were listening to that Joe Loss while I shaved. That’d be a turn-up for the books if bands like his was to play for us.’
‘He won’t be in the village hall tonight, Harry; you’ll have to make do with an old joanna, a fiddle and a squeeze-box,’ Esau said laughing.
Grace, who was more accustomed to records played in the church hall, thought that the three musicians that evening were superb. ‘We had local bands in the church hall sometimes, Jack, but I don’t think any of them were as good as this.’
The hall was absolutely packed with people of all ages, even fairly young children, and a brave attempt had been made to decorate it with such spring flowers as were available. The three-piece band was playing lustily and, while the others found a table, Jack took Grace onto the floor to dance.
It was some time since Grace had even attempted to dance but, to her great surprise, she was delighted to find that she could move easily with Jack, who was obviously an experienced dancer.
Of course. Jack was a university student. Students probably went to dances, if not every night, at least on Fridays and Saturdays.
‘At your university, Jack, were there dances every night?’
‘Work hard, play hard, Grace. Dancing’s a great way to relax, don’t you think?’
‘I haven’t been to many dances,’ she said.
‘We’ll have to remedy that. You just need more experience to become a good dancer; honestly, you have a great sense of rhythm.’
Great sense of rhythm. She had heard those words before. Who had said them? Sally. It was Sally Brewer and she had been talking about Sam. Grace closed her eyes and conjured up a picture of Sam, but the picture did not want to form. She was here in Bedfordshire with Jack Williams, who thought she was pretty. Without regret, she felt the dream of Sam float away.
Sam will always be special, she thought, but this is different. That morning, she had had her first short driving lesson with Jack, who was nothing like Sam. Jack was not quite so tall as Sam, and he was more slender, but she was delighted to find that, like Sam, he was kind. He seemed to know that she was nervous and spoke quietly and approvingly. She felt herself respond to him. Such joy not to be shouted at, not to be found wanting. For a second, sitting there beside him in the lorry, she had wanted to push his slightly too long dark hair out of his brown eyes but had managed to control her hand. She blushed now at the memory. How forward that would have been. What would he have thought?
He had noticed her blush. ‘It is a bit hot,’ he said, ‘and Lady Alice says we’re supposed to mingle with the locals. Besides, I can see lots of lads who want me to break a leg so that they can dance with the prettiest girl in the hall.’
Grace, aware only of Jack and the music, looked around the room. Yes, several men were looking in their direction. ‘They want to be able to dance like you, Jack.’
He laughed. ‘Believe me, that’s not it. We’d best join the others.’
With a final flourish, he steered her across the room to the table where their friends were. There was beer and cider to drink, and plates of tiny sandwiches were on all the tables. The empty glasses on their table, the crumbs and a crust or two showed just what a good time was being had.
‘Is this what’s called height-of-sophistication party food, Jack, lad?’ asked Harry, pointing to the few tiny sandwiches that were left.
‘In wartime, yes.’
‘You were right about the music, Grace,’ said the very happy Harry, as he lurched to his feet. ‘Anyone ready for another beer?’
He ambled off and was СКАЧАТЬ