Despite all of that, she wanted to stay. There were plenty of people who had made her feel welcome. The Penworthys, Mrs. Yarley, the Langs who kept sheep down the road. The sour Mr. Jones could be a welcome sight on days he grunted to her in greeting. Even Mrs. Symonds said hello in the village, although friendship seemed a laughable aspiration.
She could be happy in Highbury—she was convinced of it—and she wasn’t going to let that go on the vague promise of a life uprooting and resettling at army bases across the country. She refused to feel orphaned again.
“Come on.” Ruth shook her foot in front of Beth’s face.
She sighed and gave a cursory glance at the other woman’s toes. “Congratulations, it looks like you’ve painted them with red currant jelly.”
Ruth made an exasperated sound. “I don’t know why it’s not working.”
“Maybe because you’re not meant to be able to make nail varnish in Mrs. Penworthy’s kitchen sink,” she said.
Ruth flopped back on Beth’s bed. “Is it so much to ask for just a little bit of glamour?”
Despite herself, Beth smiled. Her first impression of Ruth—that the well-dressed, spoiled woman would be miserable no matter where she’d been assigned—stood. However, Ruth understood what it was to fall asleep before her head hit the pillow because she’d been baling hay all day. She had suffered through blistered hands, cracked heels, and chapped lips. They were both land girls, and that connection counted for something.
“Why don’t we go into Leamington Spa tomorrow and see if we can find you a new lipstick,” said Beth.
Ruth rolled over on her side. “Really?”
“Yes. It’s our day off. It will be fun.”
Ruth squealed with delight, and Beth settled back into her book with a laugh.
* * *
It was fun. In Leamington Spa, where there were shops and people and not a tractor in sight, Ruth came into her own.
Beth had let her roommate drag her around the shops, looking for a new dress for a dance. Beth was pleasantly surprised when, not having found anything up to Ruth’s standard, they headed for the fabric section of a department store.
“I think I’ll fit it through the bodice with little cloth-covered buttons marching up the front, and I’ll leave the skirt as full as I can with such a measly fabric allowance. But that cobalt blue will look divine against my hair,” said Ruth, touching her long red curls.
“It will,” said Beth as they walked by the train station, “but I didn’t know you could sew.”
Ruth grinned. “How do you think I have such a fabulous wardrobe when fashion is so dreary now? I only do it late at night after everyone’s gone to bed.”
“I had no idea.”
“You’re a heavier sleeper than you think.” Ruth stopped Beth with a hand on her arm. “I’d like to buy a flower for my hair.”
“All right,” said Beth, glancing at her watch. They could always catch the next bus.
They wove through the crowd of people exiting the train station, aiming for the little flower stand near the front.
“The London train must have just come in,” said Beth.
“I wonder if there are any new airmen. I heard that some are already making their way back from Normandy,” said Ruth, scanning the crowd.
“Ruth, if we’re just here to…” Walking out of the station door was Graeme.
Beth broke into a run, pushing through people to get to him. She was almost to Graeme when finally he saw her. His kit bag fell from his shoulder, and he opened his arms, sweeping her up into a kiss.
“You’re here. How are you here?” she murmured against his lips.
“When my commanding officer granted me leave, I was on the first train up from Southampton. You are the only place I want to be.”
Right there, in the middle of the train station with all of Leamington Spa watching, she kissed him as though she’d never kiss him again.
Finally, when they pulled apart a little breathless, Graeme touched his forehead to hers. “That is exactly how a man imagines his homecoming will go.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered.
“Captain Hastings, it’s good to see you,” called Ruth from somewhere behind Beth.
“Go away, Ruth,” said Beth, earning a laugh from her roommate.
“Beth?”
Her bubble of joy popped. Both she and Graeme turned, and, for the first time in nearly a year, Beth saw Colin. He looked taller, but he was maybe just thinner than she remembered. His uniform looked clean, but worn. But the most remarkable change was his face. He was gaunt, his eyes hollow, and he seemed somehow… gone.
“Colin,” she said as she felt Graeme’s arm go around her.
“Is this him?” Colin asked.
“Who are you?” Graeme countered.
Beth glanced at Ruth, whose mouth was hanging wide open.
“Respectfully, Captain, you’ve got your arm around my girl,” said Colin through gritted teeth.
Graeme tensed. “You’re mistaken, Private. This is my fiancée.”
“Beth, tell him—”
“Stop,” she said sharply, cutting off Colin midsentence. “Both of you, stop.”
“I didn’t expect you to be the type, Beth,” Colin said.
“The type?” she asked.
“The backstabbing type,” he spat.
Graeme surged forward, but Beth clamped a hand on his arm. “You stay right there.”
She stepped up to Colin then, facing him squarely. “What are you doing here?”
“I applied for a transfer right after I received your letter, but it only just came through. I managed forty-eight hours’ leave to come see you.”
“You should have used it to see your parents. We tried, Colin, but I never loved you and you didn’t love me, either.”
“And now you’re engaged.” Colin’s expression darkened. “I didn’t think you meant it. Lots of girls write things they don’t mean.”
She shook her head. “Colin, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I could have told you more about Graeme and how I felt about him, but things moved so fast. But you also have some blame here, Colin. You ambushed me on the phone, asking me to be your girl just as you were leaving to fight. That wasn’t fair.”
He deflated a little. “I thought… I thought we were friends.”
“We were, but that’s all. You just wanted a woman waiting at home for you, and that might have been enough for me in Dorking, but it isn’t enough for me now. I have a life here. I have people who love me.”
“I love you,” he said, but she could see that even he didn’t fully believe it.
“No, Colin, you don’t. You love the idea of having someone.”
“Your letters got me through. Knowing that someone other than Ma was writing helped me,” he said.
“I’m glad for it. I will always care for you, but I don’t love you. I love Graeme,” she said, looking up at her fiancé, who’d edged closer. “I’m going to marry him.”
When Colin didn’t say anything, Ruth patted him on the arm.
“Come on, Private…”—Ruth peered at Colin’s uniform badge—“Colin Eccles. Let’s go buy me a flower.”