~THE HANGAR DANCE~ By Catherine E. Chapman Published by Catherine E. Chapman at Smashwords Copyright 2013 Catherine E. Chapman Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Also by the author Brizecombe Hall Danburgh Castle Elizabeth Clansham Kitty Rhiannon The Beacon Singer The Ramblers Part 1 Chapter 1 Sylvie had been invited to a dance at the airfield. “It’s going to be so exciting,” her friend Betty had promised. “It’s a US Forces’ band so it’ll be just like being in America!” Just like being in America so long as neither of them spoke in their broad Norfolk accents, Sylvie thought. Just like being in America so long as she could fix the hem of her one good dress in time. Just like being in America so long as Father didn’t find out. Sylvie was desperate to go to the dance. She’d been asked to dances by Betty before. She shuddered remembering the scenes that followed her final request to Mother to be allowed to go with Betty: Sylvie sat out on the stairs on tenterhooks, while Mother broached the subject with Father; hearing him react to the suggestion with horror. “Do you want her ending up like that Marion, a good-for-nothing good-time-girl?” Father’s words still rang in Sylvie’s ears. That wasn’t the first time she’d asked but it was the first time she’d heard his response – it was the last time she’d asked. And those dances had been nothing like this. They had just been local dances with English boys. She’d been envious of Betty’s reports of them all the same. She had to go. Going was the biggest problem. But even if she overcame that, there was the fact that she’d feel so plain compared to the older girls who’d be there. It was partly not having nice things to wear – not having heeled shoes or make-up. But all of this really came back to Father’s belief that she was still a child. He disapproved of her dressing like a woman and, whilst Mother might sympathise with Sylvie’s desire to go dancing, she would never speak out against him. ‘I will go,’ Sylvie told herself. ‘I will go.’ Chapter 2 As the night of the dance at the airfield approached, Sylvie realised the only way she would get to go was by scheming. She arranged to stay at Betty’s. She would smuggle out the dress and, if it was discovered, she would tell Mother that Betty was going to mend it for her. She managed to borrow a pair of Betty’s elder sister, Mitzi’s heeled shoes. Best of all, Betty informed Sylvie that Mitzi had agreed to let them use her make-up. The day of the dance arrived. By late afternoon Sylvie was ready to leave the house. She went down to the sitting room, carrying the bag Mother had lent her, with the brown dress rolled up inside it. Mother was sitting listening to a show on the wireless that she regularly tuned in for on Saturday afternoon. Father sat opposite her reading his newspaper. “I’m off then,” Sylvie said. “Be careful,” Mother warned, with a look that suggested she’d guessed what Sylvie was up to. “Yes,” Sylvie mumbled. She left swiftly, fearful that her mother’s concern would betray her. The town where Sylvie had grown up was little more than a village. There were some small factories but it was really still a rural district. Because Sylvie’s father was a skilled craftsman her family had an upstairs bathroom, a distinction of which her mother was extremely proud. At Betty’s house people took baths in a tub in front of the kitchen fire. Betty’s father had been called up to fight but Sylvie’s, having suffered from poor breathing since boyhood, had been spared the front line. “We’ve so much to be thankful for,” Mother frequently reminded Sylvie. Sylvie knew it was true. But she couldn’t help thinking there were certain freedoms enjoyed by Betty and Mitzi that she was denied. As soon as Sylvie arrived at Betty’s house, the girls went up to the bedroom that Betty and Mitzi shared and set about mending the hem of Sylvie’s dress. “That dress is a bit dull,” Betty observed, as Sylvie sat on the bed, carefully pinning the loose hem in place. “You’re unlikely to catch anybody’s eye wearing that.” “It’s the best I’ve got,” Sylvie explained. It was the only thing she had that was fit for a dance. “I did ask Marion,” Betty continued, “but she said shoes were one thing, a dress is quite another.” Betty had a habit of forgetting that her big sister Marion had re-christened herself ‘Mitzi’. Sylvie always thought of her as Mitzi; it was such a glamorous name and she was such a glamorous girl – it suited her perfectly. Mitzi was a Land Girl and bemoaned the state of her hands on Friday night, after a week spent toiling in the fields. She lived for weekends and for dances. Any spare money she had was invested in clothes, shoes and make-up. Betty reaped the benefits of her sister’s wardrobe, running errands for Mitzi in exchange for the opportunity to borrow shoes and make-up. Dresses, however, were out of bounds. But by saving the bits of money she’d earned running the errands for Mitzi’s many beaus, Betty had eventually managed to buy herself a red dress and a matching pair of red heeled shoes – the perfect combination for turning heads at dances. It was in comparison with Betty’s outfit that Sylvie’s fawn dress, the pattern embellished with little orange and green flowers, was so commonplace and forgettable. But it was the only thing she had. Betty showed Sylvie the shoes Mitzi had been willing to lend. “They’re not bad,” Betty commented, holding the shoes against the dress draped across Sylvie’s lap. “They’re brown too.” When Sylvie had finished mending the hem she put on the dress and shoes. “These heels are so high,” she complained to Betty, “I can barely walk in them, never mind dance.” “They’re not that high,” Betty replied, scrutinising her friend’s appearance. “It’s a shame the dress doesn’t show off more of your legs,” she continued. “If I’d thought about it, I’d have got you to take the hem up an inch or two while you were at it.” The girls stood, side by side, looking at themselves in Mitzi’s mirror. It wasn’t full-length but they’d angled it to see as much of their outfits as possible. “I’m definitely going to kiss a boy tonight,” Betty said. “I’m going to kiss an American airman.” Dressed in red, with Mitzi’s bold red lipstick spread generously on her lips, Sylvie thought it quite likely that Betty would fulfil her mission. “How about you?” Betty asked. “Depends if there’s anyone nice,” Sylvie replied, thinking it unlikely that anybody nice would bat an eye at her. Chapter 3 At six o’clock the girls waited for the bus that had been laid on to take them to the airfield. They were among about thirty people in the queue, some of them young men, but most girls older than Betty and Sylvie. “Don’t you feel silly?” Sylvie whispered to Betty. “Why?” Betty responded, too loudly for Sylvie’s liking. “We’ve as much right to be here as anybody else,” she continued. “We’re old enough.” “Only just,” said Sylvie. As they stood waiting, Sylvie noticed some older girls eyeing them critically. “Will Mitzi be there?” she asked Betty. “I expect so,” Betty replied. “She’ll probably be with Bradley.” Bradley, Mitzi’s latest beau, was the source of all stockings. Eventually the bus arrived and transported the girls the five or so miles out to the airbase. The dance was to be held in a hangar on the airfield. Bradley had told Betty it was to be specially converted into a dancehall for the occasion, with a stage for the band. When the girls walked into the hangar they were amazed by the transformation that had taken place. Tables were set out around a huge, dimly-lit dance floor. The stage was spot lit. “Blimey,” Betty declared, “I’ve never been to a dance as big as this before.” Girls were being bussed in from all the surrounding towns and villages to provide dancing partners for the many Americans stationed on the base. People were still arriving but there were already crowds of young men and women mingling on the edge of the dance floor. But what immediately entranced Sylvie was the sight of the band of airmen on the stage. They looked so fine in their uniforms, with collars and ties. The row of saxophones at the front, glinting in the spotlights, appeared to Sylvie the most glamorous thing she’d ever seen. “It is like America,” she whispered to herself. The music hadn’t even started; they were only tuning up. Chapter 4 Within minutes the music began and the American airmen wasted no time in asking the English girls to dance. Sylvie and Betty hung back from the dance floor, still overwhelmed by the spectacle before their eyes. “Do you think they’re all officers?” Betty asked in disbelief, looking at the airmen taking to the floor. “They can’t all be,” Sylvie replied. “But they look so smart–” Betty began. Just as she said it a young airman approached her and asked for her hand. “Are you an officer?” Betty asked him. “Are you suggesting I’m old!” he replied, laughing at her naivety. He whisked her onto the dance floor. Sylvie felt very self-conscious to be left standing alone. She was still at the back of the hangar, a good distance from the bandstand. She reminded herself what it had taken to get this far – she was determined not to be a wallflower. Since most people were now up on the dance floor Sylvie managed, without feeling too conspicuous, to edge her way around to the front of the hangar. She moved behind a table until she was safely hidden in the shadows and took a seat. From here she had a great view of the band. It wasn’t long before she forgot she wasn’t dancing and became entranced by the music. After they’d finished the first number (a tune that Sylvie didn’t recognise) the band went straight into ‘American Patrol’ and everybody, of course, stayed on the floor so Sylvie’s reverie continued. She’d started to look at the musicians more closely now. They ranged in age but, to Sylvie, they all appeared like film stars, and the choreographed way they moved as they played their instruments left her wondering how anybody could dance when there was so much to watch onstage. A couple of the trumpeters had noticed Sylvie watching the band. They were standing in line at the back of the bandstand and so had greater opportunity to misbehave. In a moment they both turned to face Sylvie and began serenading her, the elder musician raising his eyebrows at her very obviously. Sylvie laughed and, unthinkingly, placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. As she did so, the tabletop wobbled so much that it upset the near-full glasses that stood on the opposite side of the table from Sylvie, spilling their contents back over the table in Sylvie’s direction. “My dress!” Sylvie exclaimed, rising quickly from her chair and stepping back away from the table. She looked down and was relieved to see that her quick-thinking meant her dress had escaped a soaking. However, when she looked up she realised she’d caught the attention of the saxophone section, seated at the front of the band. Sylvie sensed the colour rising to her cheeks. As ‘American Patrol’ drew to a close, an older musician, seated at the end of the row nearest to Sylvie, said, “Gee baby, you split our drinks!” “I’m really sorry,” Sylvie began, fearing she’d burst into tears. “My friend, Jack here’s devastated because he just can’t get enough of your English beer!” “I’m so sorry,” Sylvie repeated. “I’ll buy you another one when you have a break,” she said, looking into the eyes of the young airman sat one in from the end of the row. As soon as Sylvie looked at Jack, she was amazed she hadn’t noticed him sooner. He was young and handsome – he couldn’t have been much older than her. He gazed back at her with playful, smiling eyes and said, “No worries. Hal’s winding you up.” “But if you did want to buy Jack a drink at the interval–” Hal interrupted, encouragingly. “Cut it out, Hal,” Jack said shyly. Just as the conductor introduced ‘Little Brown Jug’ and Jack said, “Please excuse us,” to Sylvie, a boy approached her. “Care to dance?” he asked in a familiar accent. Sylvie wanted to say no; she wanted to stay right where she was. But she found herself reluctantly replying, “Yes, alright then.” Bob was pleasant enough – a terrible dancer but a nice boy. He told her he’d managed to get an invitation because his older sister was the girlfriend of one of the airmen. Bob, Sylvie learned, wanted more than anything to be a GI. “You can’t!” Sylvie exclaimed, laughing at him. “Not when you come from round here.” “But if I could be anything,” Bob said earnestly, “I’d be one of them. Have you seen all the badges on their uniforms?” he continued. “They have badges for everything!” Sylvie laughed at him affectionately. It seemed that tonight was as magical for him as it was for her. ‘Little Brown Jug’ came to a close but Bob wouldn’t let Sylvie sit down. She agreed to the next dance with him. “I’m usually quite shy with girls,” Bob admitted. “But it’s alright with you – I feel like I’m dancing with my sister.” Sylvie smiled wistfully – would she ever be allowed to grow up? Whilst moving around the dance floor with Bob, Sylvie caught sight of Betty and waved to her. Betty gestured that she would meet Sylvie at the end of the dance. When the number finished, Sylvie managed to politely slip away from Bob and, after some searching, found her friend. “Have you been dancing with the same boy all the time?” Sylvie asked Betty. “No!” she replied. “I’ve had a different partner each dance. All American and all handsome. How about you?” “He was called Bob,” Sylvie told her. “He was local.” Betty said this wouldn’t do and instructed Sylvie to stay close by her as they scouted for new partners. Sylvie’s eye kept wandering from the dance floor to the stage as they searched, but it was no good; from here, she could barely see him at all. It didn’t take Betty long to attract fresh interest, in her red dress. She swiftly secured partners for herself and Sylvie and, in very little time, Betty was whisked away from her friend again. Sylvie was now dancing in the arms of an American GI. She realised she should have been ecstatic but her attention was really on the stage. As Sylvie swept around the dance floor, she managed, at certain moments, to catch Jack’s eye and whenever she looked at him she found he was gazing at her. Having had one American dance partner, Sylvie automatically acquired another and another as the band moved from one tune to the next. She supposed it was romantic. Every now and then she caught glimpses of Betty. Betty looked thrilled. But Sylvie was waiting for the moments when she could catch sight of the stage; how unfair it seemed that she couldn’t dance with the one boy she really wanted to. Chapter 5 Before Sylvie knew it, the first set was over and there was a break for the band. Betty found her. “Isn’t tonight like all your birthdays and Christmases come at once!” she declared, reeling. They were standing at the back of the hangar. Sylvie watched the musicians disappear from the stage as the lights were turned up. Dancers left the floor and headed for the surrounding tables. The spell had been broken, it seemed. Sylvie turned her head from the stage and looked towards the hangar’s main entrance. “I can’t believe how many boys I’ve danced with,” Betty chattered, “but I feel like I still haven’t found that special one–” “Betty,” Sylvie interrupted, alarmed at the sight of the person she’d just spotted standing in the doorway. “Oh Sylvie, I so long to be kissed tonight,” Betty prattled, sounding like she was repeating something she’d heard at the flicks. “Shush,” Sylvie told her urgently. Betty finally shut up and turned around to see what was making her friend look so nervous. “Well, well, young lady,” said Betty’s mother, who was now standing in front of them. “You thought I wouldn’t notice you’d slipped out this evening.” Betty hung her head and gave her mother no response. “I told you you weren’t to come to this dance. Local dances with local boys are one thing, but this is quite another. These American boys are far too old for you.” “But Marion’s here,” Betty protested, “she’ll look out for me.” “Where is she then?” Betty’s mother snapped. “Sylvia, I’m very surprised to see you here,” she continued. “Tell me truthfully, have you seen Marion this evening?” She addressed the question to Sylvie, knowing Sylvie was less likely to lie to her than Betty. Sylvie looked at Betty but Betty was still staring at the floor. “We haven’t seen her yet,” Sylvie admitted. “Just as I thought,” Betty’s mother replied. “Come along young lady,” she said to Betty, “you’re coming home with me. Goodnight Sylvia.” Betty’s mother took her daughter by the hand and led her out of the hangar. Betty was so embarrassed she couldn’t even look at Sylvie, not to mention the groups of older girls standing close by who’d witnessed her humiliation. Left standing in the bright light, Sylvie too felt conspicuous. She was alone, with nobody to talk to. She couldn’t leave till the end of the night, when the bus would take her back to town. She had no one to go home with. Worst of all, she realised that she could hardly go back to Betty’s house now, and the alternative was going home and owning up to her parents. How had a dream so quickly become a nightmare? A tear rolled down Sylvie’s cheek. This, she thought, must be her comeuppance for deceiving Mother. From behind, somebody put their hands over Sylvie’s eyes. “Guess who?” a familiar voice said. “Mitzi!” Sylvie cried. Sylvie’s eyes were uncovered and she beheld a vision. Mitzi wore an emerald green dress. Her red hair was piled high in curls upon her head. Sylvie was instantly star-struck. “What’s up little one?” Mitzi asked, seeing that, despite the smile she was wearing now, Sylvie had been crying. Sylvie recounted her disastrous tale to Mitzi, who laughed in response. “Good old Mum,” she said. “Serves little sister right.” “But now I don’t know what to do,” Sylvie explained. “Don’t worry,” Mitzi said, putting her arm around Sylvie’s shoulder, “I’ll look after you.” “Thanks Marion,” Sylvie replied, reassured. Mitzi raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, Mitzi,” Sylvie corrected. Mitzi smiled at her maternally. “Now, little miss, you can tell me what you’ve been up to this evening,” she said knowingly. Sylvie was confused. “I have my spies,” Mitzi continued. Sylvie began to feel embarrassed. “If I were to mention a certain saxophone player…” Mitzi said suggestively. Sylvie felt the colour rushing to her cheeks as an announcement was made that the band were shortly to start playing again. “What a shame,” said Mitzi, “I was going to introduce you to Jack – he’s itching to meet you – and I understand you owe him a beer. It’ll have to wait till later.” Sylvie could hardly believe her ears. “You know him?” she murmured. “Yes,” Mitzi replied, laughing at Sylvie’s mesmerized expression. “Look, there he is now,” she continued, turning to face the stage and waving at the musicians returning to their posts. Despite the fact that they were standing towards the back of the hangar, Jack returned Mitzi’s wave; he seemed to have been looking out for them. Sylvie looked on in amazement. “He’s just a boy,” Mitzi said to Sylvie. “He won’t bite!” Here, Mitzi’s reassurances were wasted on Sylvie. “I think you need some Dutch courage,” Mitzi suggested. She called over to an airman who stood nearby, chatting with a group of friends. “Bradley darling, would you be a dear and get us girls a drink? Dancing is thirsty work.” Bradley did Mitzi’s bidding without question. “We’ll have a drink, have a dance, and then later on I’ll introduce you to Jack. How does that sound?” Sylvie couldn’t find words. She just nodded and smiled. Mitzi seemed to inhabit another world at weekends; a world where glamour and film stars were a matter of course. Mitzi was wonderful; Father was so wrong about her. Chapter 6 During the band’s final set of the evening, Sylvie began to relax and enjoy herself. Mitzi’s presence guaranteed her an endless supply of dance partners. Sylvie occasionally found herself in locations on the dance floor that gave her a view of Jack. She desperately wanted to look at him but now felt too shy to make eye contact (in spite of Mitzi’s Dutch courage). The evening drew to a close but not before the band had wowed their audience with ‘In The Mood’ and followed it by wooing them with ‘Moonlight Serenade.’ When they finished playing Mitzi, true to her word, escorted Sylvie to the bandstand. “Where’s Jack got to?” she called to Hal. “Outside,” Hal replied, “getting some air.” “Go on then Sylvie,” Mitzi urged, shooing her out of the small side door of the hangar. Sylvie had butterflies in her tummy. She crept through the doorway and looked about her. It was too dark to see anything. She picked her way carefully along the outside wall of the hangar in the darkness, unsure whether she was going in the right direction and preoccupied by the need to avoid scratching Mitzi’s heels on the gravel. Sylvie was so intent upon the ground in front of her that it was a shock when, looking up, she gazed straight into the eyes that had become, in so short a space of time, so familiar. Jack had been standing, leaning back against the hangar, looking up at the stars. He stood up straight and said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sylvie,” offering her his hand. Sylvie took the hand nervously. Her eyes becoming used to the dark, she could now discern his features more clearly in the moonlight. He was smiling. “I came to say goodbye,” Sylvie said, immediately feeling foolish as she realised she’d never actually said hello. “I’m hoping you mean au revoir,” Jack replied. Sylvie didn’t understand. “You know, you look a million dollars in that dress,” he told her. Sylvie beamed but failed to find words of acceptance, being unused to compliments. She was aware that time was passing; Mitzi had said she must be quick. “I have to go. There’s a bus–” “Can I take you out to tea sometime?” he asked. “We’re going to be stationed here for a while, you know.” “That would be nice,” Sylvie said, immediately recalling the obstacle of Father. “We’ll arrange something through Brad and Mitzi,” Jack suggested, seeming to sense her fears. “Yes,” Sylvie agreed, brightening. Mitzi would sort it out. “I have to go,” she repeated awkwardly. Jack edged towards her. “Do I get a kiss goodnight?” he asked. Sylvie froze. “If you kiss me we’ll overlook the fact that you still owe me a drink,” he joked. Sylvie barely had chance to laugh before their lips met. She wondered if it was possible to make one moment last forever. Returning inside the hangar, walking, it seemed, on air, Sylvie found Mitzi waiting for her. “Quite a night!” Mitzi declared, as they strode side by side through the hall. The hangar was already being stripped down. “You danced with him,” Mitzi said, pointing to a GI who was efficiently stacking chairs. “Did I?” Sylvie replied absently, still reeling from the kiss. Mitzi smiled archly at Sylvie and put her arm around her shoulder. Chapter 7 Three days later, Betty’s mother allowed Sylvie to visit her friend. Betty had been grounded indefinitely. “I’d do it all again,” Betty told Sylvie defiantly. “I’d do it next weekend if there was another dance.” Sylvie looked at her doubtfully. “If you could get out,” she said. “Oh, I’d escape alright,” Betty assured her. “My one regret,” she admitted after a moment’s thought, “is that I wasn’t kissed.” “Well, maybe next time,” Sylvie suggested. “How about you?” Betty asked. “I don’t suppose…” “No,” Sylvie said, shaking her head in a fluster, “of course not.” She was thinking that her one regret was that she hadn’t danced with Jack. “Maybe next time, then,” said Betty. Part 2 Chapter 8 Sylvie sat by the bus stop at the junction of the main coastal road and the rough track that led to the dunes. Her emotions were mixed: excitement at the prospect of seeing Jack again and guilt because they had to meet in secret. He was so lovely – why couldn’t it be straightforward to take him home and introduce him to her parents? They’d met briefly, for tea, the weekend before. It had been Saturday afternoon, after Sylvie had finished work at the grocery store in town, where she was a shop assistant. Her parents had thought she was going to see Betty. Talking properly to Jack, Sylvie’s sense that he was something special had intensified and so she was now risking meeting up with him once again without her parents’ knowledge or consent. Within moments a forces’ truck pulled up and Sylvie watched Jack emerge from it, noticing how he blushed at the encouraging noises his buddies made upon sight of his date. Jack approached Sylvie shyly, saying, “I’d kiss you but I can’t with them all watching.” Sylvie smiled, replying, “Come on, let’s head along the path to the beach – they can’t follow us down there.” After a minute’s walk in silence, when Jack was convinced he was no longer being pursued, he stopped, took Sylvie’s hands in his own and kissed her cheek. “How have you been?” he asked. “OK,” Sylvie replied, adopting his Americanisms already. “You seem a little low,” Jack commented. “No,” Sylvie insisted but as she looked into his eyes, she had to admit, “It’s just that I had to lie to my mother to see you. She thinks I’m at Betty’s.” “Is Betty in on it?” “No, she doesn’t know about you either.” “So I’m your dark secret,” Jack mused, smiling to himself. Sylvie looked at his dark hair and smiled back, relaxing in his company. If she had to harbour a secret, what better secret to have than Jack? They carried on walking towards the beach, hand-in-hand. “And how about you,” Sylvie asked. “How has your week been?” “Oh, eventful,” Jack replied, rather ruefully. “What do you mean?” Sylvie asked. “The night we met, Sylvie, you saw the fun side of my life. But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this darn war.” “Oh,” Sylvie said blankly, sensing there were things he was reluctant to share with her. “Some of the guys had close calls on their raids this week, Sylvie,” Jack explained. “It made me think, that’s all.” “Made you think what?” Sylvie asked naively. “That we should live for the moment, Sylvie. That we never know…” “But you’re just young,” Sylvie said. Jack smiled at her, realising he couldn’t make her understand. They’d reached the dunes without encountering a single other person. “Gee, Sylvie, you’ve brought us to the middle of nowhere,” Jack observed. “Seems you really do want to keep me a secret.” Sylvie laughed. “I wanted to bring you here,” she told him. “It’s my favourite place and we never come here now the war’s on. My mum’s afraid of mines,” Sylvie explained, “but there aren’t any here.” “So what’s the plan?” Jack asked her. “Cut through the dunes and walk along the beach,” Sylvie replied. Chapter 9 An hour-and-a-half later, Jack and Sylvie stood knee-high in water, holding their shoes and looking out to the sun setting on the horizon. Mesmerised by the rhythm of walking along the sea’s edge, as the broken waves lapped about their feet, and aware only of the sensation of one another’s touch as they pressed on, hand-in-hand, they’d lost track of both time and the changes that had occurred about them. “We’re surrounded by water,” Jack said suddenly, disturbed at the realisation that they were no longer at the sea’s edge but had been encircled by the incoming tide. He turned and began running through the water back to shore, pulling Sylvie on behind him. But to Jack’s alarm the water only became deeper as they got nearer to the shore. “There’s a channel here, Sylvie,” Jack said, “and, judging from the speed of the water flowing through it, it must be pretty deep. Are you a strong swimmer?” “I can’t swim,” Sylvie admitted, beginning to tremble with fear, the cold water now rising up to approach her chest with each swell of the waves. Jack realised he must be decisive. Every moment they delayed, the water was getting deeper. “OK,” he said, “we’re going to try to get across the channel. Climb on my back. The water will support you but, whatever you do, don’t let go of me. You’ll need to keep a tight hold – the current’ll be strong out there.” Sylvie climbed onto Jack’s back and he held her legs close to his sides. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he began to move forward, speaking as he went. “I’m hoping the channel won’t get so deep that I can’t keep my feet on the bottom but if it does I’ll have to swim and I’ll need you to try to keep afloat.” As Jack said the words, he felt the sand below him deteriorate into a moving soup of silt. With the water at his neck, his feet broke from the sea bed and his arms involuntarily let go of Sylvie. Jack heard Sylvie cry out in panic. “Turn over, Sylvie,” Jack called to her, “the water will keep you afloat. Just keep a hold of me.” Sylvie turned in the water and felt a wave swell beneath her and lift up her body. She grasped hold of Jack, sensing him struggling against the current to move them on across the channel. “You’re doing fine, Sylvie,” Jack assured her breathlessly. “We’re getting there.” Confident now that Sylvie would remain still enough to float as he fought against the flow of the channel that constantly sought to carry them along it, Jack dared to lower his legs below him. To his relief, he felt his toe meet with solid sand at a depth he could almost stand up in. Not wanting to tempt fate, he carried on swimming further, pulling Sylvie along with him all the while, before once again testing their depth. “We’re safe, Sylvie,” Jack declared, able almost to touch the bottom with his hand. He scrambled to his feet and helped Sylvie to stand up in the water. Sylvie was crying. “We’re safe, Sylvie,” Jack repeated soothingly, pulling her to him. “Look, the sand’s just over there,” he said, gesturing to the golden blanket, dimly visible in the failing light. Sylvie cried all the more at the realisation that the danger really had passed. Jack drew her closer and stroked the wet hair from her brow. He smiled down at her, saying, “We’re soaking, we’re freezing but we’re alive, Sylvie. We’re alive,” he repeated and would have said it a third time, had Sylvie’s lips not stolen his words. Chapter 10 “What time do you call this, young lady?” Mother called accusingly from the kitchen table as Sylvie skulked in through the back door. What a fool she was – she should have known that in a crisis they always took refuge in the kitchen – if only she’d come through the front door and slipped up the stairs to her room without being detected. “Your mother’s been worried sick,” Father added before Sylvie had a chance to explain herself. “And don’t think I’ll buy any stories about you being at Betty’s because I’ve been round there long since and I know that Betty hasn’t seen you all day.” “I’m sorry,” Sylvie murmured, struggling to stop herself from crying. “A boy, I shouldn’t wonder,” Mother surmised angrily. “Is that right, Sylvia, is it a boy you’ve been out with till this hour?” Father asked in a tone only slightly more rational than Mother’s. “Yes,” Sylvie admitted guiltily as she began to cry. “I’m sorry it’s so late,” she repeated through her sobs. “Well, we’re going to put a stop to this nonsense,” Mother said with finality. “To coin a phrase used by your good friend Betty, you, young lady, are grounded – indefinitely.” Later, when Sylvie lay in bed, in the room where she was destined to spend so much time over the next few days, her tears subsided and she found herself smiling in the darkness. It was so warm and cosy in bed – so warm and comfortable and dry. But Sylvie remembered earlier in the evening, when she’d been freezing, barefoot and drenched – but exhilarated – feeling alive. She’d asked Jack to dance with her and they’d danced together on the sand in the moonlight. Jack had said it would dry their clothes. When it hadn’t, they’d retreated to the shelter of the dunes and reverted to taking the clothes off to dry. The dance had become something quite different – something unexpected and heavenly, Sylvie thought, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks at the memory of it. Chapter 11 As the days wore on, it became harder for Sylvie to keep sight of that blissful recollection. Her parents had not exaggerated their intention to keep her at home. Mother escorted her to and from work like a child and Father remained stern, even when Sylvie complied with their wishes. Sylvie felt empty and she began to wonder whether the night with Jack had been real at all. She was permitted no contact with any of her friends so she couldn’t even get a message to Jack via Mitzi. She wished she’d confided in Betty. Then at least, Jack would have got to know that she’d been grounded, through the grapevine. As it was, he would have been stood up on the next occasion they’d agreed to meet, with no explanation. Sylvie wondered if what they’d done that night had actually been making love. She had no idea what the act involved but she suspected, from the way it had made her feel and from the way Jack had seemed to be feeling, that that’s what had happened. It had been so intense – like it was the only thing that mattered in the world – like he was the only person who mattered. And now this – nothing. Chapter 12 Two weeks later Sylvie’s mother was very quiet when she collected Sylvie from work. Walking home, Sylvie had been wondering what was wrong but hadn’t felt she could ask; one of the forms her parents’ continuing punishment took was a lack of conversation. Walking past the newsagent’s shop, Sylvie spotted a board bearing the headline from the local evening paper. ‘Popular Airman Lost in Raid’ it read. She stopped in her tracks. Mother stopped beside her and started to cry. “Who was it?” Sylvie demanded, fearing the worst. “Who was it?” she cried again when her mother gave her no answer. “Marion’s boy,” Mother sobbed, “Bradley.” Chapter 13 “I need to go to the beach,” Sylvie had told her mother, there and then, standing on the street, outside the newsagent’s shop. “I’ll come with you, Sylvia,” Mother had offered. “No,” Sylvie had replied insistently, “I need to go alone. I’m not a child,” she’d said finally. And she’d just done it: walked to the bus stop, waited for the bus, boarded it, paid her fare to the coastal road, got off at the same spot where she’d met Jack a fortnight before (it seemed like an eternity now), walked out to the dunes and picked her way through them until she’d reached the shore. Walking along the beach at the edge of the water, carrying her bag in one hand and her shoes in the other, not caring that she must look ridiculous, nor that the hem of her skirt got wet each time an incoming wave broke against her, Sylvie thought of everything and nothing. She wanted to be with Jack. He was the only person who could make sense of what had happened. He was the only person she wanted to be with. Sylvie’s eyes were fixed on the waves breaking at her feet but, when she gave a momentary glance towards the shore, she spotted a solitary figure huddled in the lee of the dunes. Chapter 14 “Mitzi,” Sylvie said as she drew close enough to the figure to be certain it was her. The older girl looked up and looked at Sylvie through her contorted, tearful eyes but said nothing. Sylvie slumped down on the sand beside her and put her arm around her friend. “I’m so sorry,” she said, struggling to prevent herself from crying. Mitzi looked briefly at Sylvie again and then buried her head in the folds of her skirt. Sylvie was shocked by Mitzi’s appearance. She’d never before seen her without her make-up and the dazzling smile she seemed to wear permanently. “Please don’t cry, Mitzi–” Sylvie began hopelessly. “Don’t call me that,” the older girl protested, “it’s not my real name. Just call me Marion – plain old Marion.” “Ssshhh,” Sylvie whispered into Mitzi’s hair as she stroked her arm and pulled her closer. Mitzi bawled into Sylvie’s shoulder. Sylvie realised she couldn’t stop her from crying. About ten minutes later, when Mitzi had cried herself out, she drew away from Sylvie and stared out to sea. “You really loved him, didn’t you,” Sylvie said softly. “Yes,” Mitzi replied simply. “I know what people think of me – I know what they say,” she continued after a while, “Marion the good-time-girl, the flirt – the tart–” “No they don’t,” Sylvie was quick to correct. “Yes they do,” Mitzi maintained. “And, until Bradley, it was true,” she continued, adding tentatively, “apart from that I’ve never actually been with a man.” Sylvie wasn’t sure whether Mitzi was really talking to her any more but she seemed to need to say these things. She seemed to be calming down. “But, if I’m honest, I enjoyed everyone thinking I was so worldly-wise. Younger girls like you and Betty looking up to me,” Marion said distantly. “But the truth is, Sylvia, I’m nothing. I’m just a plain old farm girl. I’m nothing without Bradley.” Mitzi’s sobs resumed as she spoke his name. Sylvie put her arm around Mitzi again. “Good little Sylvia,” Mitzi said strangely. “Innocent little Sylvie,” and she tried to let out a bitter laugh but she just ended up crying. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Sylvie said, confused by Mitzi’s words. “But you know what it feels like to tease a man, Sylvie,” Mitzi said knowingly, “well, a boy, at any rate.” Sylvie didn’t reply. “I spoke to Jack, Sylvia. I know all about you jilting him.” Sylvie shook her head, feeling tears welling up in her own eyes. “Is that what he thinks?” she asked Mitzi. “What else was he to think after what happened?” Mitzi replied. “He said he knew he shouldn’t have told us but he was so upset that Bradley made him spill the beans. And then the next day, Bradley…” Mitzi’s words trailed off as she was reduced to tears again. Sylvie comforted Mitzi but her mind was racing with thoughts of Jack and what he must now be thinking of her. “It’s what Bradley asked of me, Sylvia, and I almost gave in because it was what I wanted too. But I held out just to frustrate him and keep that hold over him.” Mitzi paused. “And now it seems such a small thing to have given him and such a big thing to have withheld.” “But you might have got in the family way,” Sylvie said cautiously. “In which case, I’d have still had something of him now, wouldn’t I?” Mitzi replied desperately, beginning to sob uncontrollably again. “So Jack thinks I dumped him?” Sylvie said once Mitzi had collected herself. “Don’t worry, Sylvie, he’ll get over it. He said, after the news came through about Brad, that it put everything into perspective. He said not to worry about him.” Mitzi paused and then resumed, “Anyway, they’re going back soon, of course. They’re taking my Bradley home.” Chapter 15 When Sylvie got home she was surprised to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table, awaiting her return. “Sit down, Sylvia, we need to have a talk,” she began. Sylvie, her eyes bloodshot from the tears she’d cried both with Mitzi at the beach and alone on her way home on the bus, took a seat beside her mother. “I’m sorry your father and I have been so harsh, Sylvia,” her mother said. Sylvie’s interest was drawn by the statement – her mother seldom made an apology or admitted she’d been wrong about anything. “We thought we were doing the right thing – we were only trying to protect you, Sylvia.” Sylvie said nothing but wiped her eye, sensing tears coming on again and feeling too drained of emotion to cope with them once more today. “But we think you’ve learnt your lesson now – and seeing how upset you’ve been about Marion’s boy, we think it’s time to leave you be.” Sylvie gave herself time to digest and interpret her mother’s words. After a while she said, “Would it be alright for me to go and see Marion, then? She’s asked after me and I thought I could see her after work tomorrow.” “Yes, Sylvia,” Mother said calmly. Chapter 16 The following afternoon Sylvie returned to the spot on the beach where Marion had said she would make her daily vigil – the place where she and Bradley used to walk – she said she didn’t know what else to do with herself at the moment. Approaching the beach, Sylvie spied a familiar figure but it wasn’t Mitzi’s. She stopped in her tracks, unsure whether to continue walking on or run back. But the figure began to run towards her and Sylvie found herself stumbling forwards, to shorten the time she had to wait for an embrace. “Jack,” Sylvie gasped as he took her in his arms. “Oh Sylvie,” he whispered in response. “Mitzi said she thought perhaps there’d been a misunderstanding–” “Yes,” Sylvie replied breathlessly, “my parents wouldn’t let me out.” “Oh Sylvie,” Jack repeated, kissing her cheek. “I wanted so desperately to see you,” Sylvie continued, “to explain – but I couldn’t.” Jack placed his finger on Sylvie’s lips to quieten her. “We’re here now,” he said, “that’s all that matters.” “But you’re not going to be here for long, are you?” Sylvie couldn’t help but say. “Ssshhh,” soothed Jack. “Let’s not spoil this moment, Sylvie. I’m just so relieved that you still want to see me.” Later, lying against the dunes, with Jack’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, Sylvie asked tentatively, “That night when we danced on the shore…” “Yes?” Jack replied. “Did we make love?” Sylvie couldn’t look him in the eye as she said it. Jack gave her no reply but when she glanced at him she saw he was smiling. “Gee, I must really have made the earth move,” he said wryly. “You did make it move,” Sylvie replied sincerely. “Only I wasn’t sure what we’d done,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, Sylvie,” Jack murmured guiltily. “I just know I want us to do it again,” she said, taking his hand in hers. Chapter 17 The next morning, Sylvie and Mitzi rose at the crack of dawn and got the first bus out to the coastal road. As the sun advanced over the horizon, the girls stood hand-in-hand, watching the skies and waiting. At seven-thirty, as Mitzi had predicted, the orange haze was broken by the steely progress of a cargo plane, ramping up through the sky in a slow, heavy ascent. “There’s my Bradley,” Mitzi said bravely, “going home.” She fought back her tears but Sylvie could feel her whole frame shaking. Sylvie wrapped her arm around Mitzi’s shoulder. “I think he was the love of my life,” Mitzi whispered through her sobs. Sylvie stroked her arm. “Sylvie, when you find the love of your life, don’t ever let him go,” Mitzi said emphatically, taking Sylvie in her arms and clinging to her. “No,” Sylvie promised, thinking of Jack, up there in the plane alongside Bradley. “Because one day you will find him, Sylvie,” Mitzi said, withdrawing from Sylvie’s embrace but holding her arms fast and looking intently into Sylvie’s eyes. Sylvie found tears streaming down her own face as she gazed at Marion. She couldn’t tell her the truth and she couldn’t admit she’d let him go. She took Mitzi in her arms again and, feeling like an older, worldly-wise sister, held her close and kissed her hair. Looking up, she saw the plane scale the heights before turning to begin its progress over land. She had to be strong and she had to focus on the future, uncertain as it was. Holding Marion and rocking her gently in the morning breeze, Sylvie was reminded of the dance on the shore with Jack. This was no time to be sad. She’d found the love of her life and they were going to write. * * * * * Thank you for reading this story. If you have enjoyed The Hangar Dance, please consider writing a review / recommendation for the book or giving it a star rating. Also by the author: Brizecombe Hall - a Regency romance – novelette available on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/75187 Brizecombe Hall, The Hangar Dance and Kitty are now also available in print as a collection of Three Romances: http://www.amazon.com/Three-Romances-Brizecombe-Kitty-Hangar/dp/1482064308 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Three-Romances-Brizecombe-Kitty-Hangar/dp/1482064308 Danburgh Castle and Rhiannon - Medieval romances – novelettes available on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/269771 http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/155276 Elizabeth Clansham - a contemporary novella set in the Scottish Highlands – available digitally on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/68015 And also available in print: http://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Clansham-Catherine-E-Chapman/dp/1481927299/ http://www.amazon.co.uk/Elizabeth-Clansham-Catherine-E-Chapman/dp/1481927299/ The Beacon Singer - a contemporary novel set in the English Lake District – available on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/111240 For a taster of Catherine’s contemporary writing, read The Ramblers, a short story available to download free from Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/180502 For information about the author and her other publications, please visit Catherine E. Chapman’s profile page on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CatherineChapman For current news, see Catherine’s blog: http://www.romanceornotromance.wordpress.com Catherine is also on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Catherine-E-Chapman/434999469868920 and Twitter: http://twitter.com/CathEChapman