Charlie pats the padded shoulder of George’s brown tweed jacket. ‘Calm down, b’y. You gots a face on you like a hen’s arse in the northwest winds. All’s I’m sayin’ is I’d keeps my eye on them, if I was in your shoes. I told you before that Tom’s a charmer.’ He leans closer to George. ‘He’s been comin’ up to Norwich every chance he gets. He’s got himself on the supply run with the QM every Thursday.’ Charlie takes another swig of beer. ‘He’s a sly one, is our Tommy. Gets him outta a day of trainin’ or diggin’ fortifications up on the coast. Since we got changed to the 166th Newfoundland Field Regiment in November, they’ve kept us as busy as a bayman with two chainsaws.’
George eyes Charlie’s flushed face. Come to think of it, Ellie had been a bit off this past month, he thinks. Even the chocolates he’d brought her for Valentine’s hadn’t done much to thaw out her mood. He’d put it down to her extra workload at the fire station. She was there all hours now, though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what kept her so busy. There hadn’t been an air raid for months. They hadn’t been to their Friday night film in weeks except for once, and even then she’d wanted to get home early instead of stopping at the Coach and Horses for a glass.
Charlie downs the last of this beer. ‘G’wan, b’y. I’ll be three down before you finishes yours.’
George eyes Thomas and Ellie, bouncing amongst the GIs and local girls to ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’. He gulps the beer and hands the empty glass to Charlie. Fishing a handful of coins out of his pocket, he drops them into Charlie’s hand. ‘My shout.’
Charlie tips a salute and ducks into the crowd. George sweeps his eyes around the bobbing heads of the dancers, but Ellie’s shining blonde head and the tall Newfoundlander are nowhere to be seen.
***
George shoves his empty beer glass at Charlie.
‘Hold on, b’y,’ Charlie says. ‘Where you off to?’
‘I’m going to find Ellie.’
‘She’s probably just gone to the Ladies’.’
George squints at Charlie through his glasses. ‘With Tom?’
Charlie chuckles over the top of his beer glass. ‘I expect we would’a heard screams in that case.’
‘Where do you think he is, then?’ George’s tongue is thick in his mouth, and the words come out fat and slurred. ‘They’ve been gone for the past half hour.’ George taps on his watch. ‘Since ten twenty-three. I’ve been keeping an eye out, like you said.’
Charlie pats George on his shoulder. ‘Me and my big mouth. C’mon, b’y, They probably just went to get some air. It’s hotter’n the insides of a bibby in here. I’m used to choppin’ ice off the privy round St Paddy’s Day back home.’
George thrusts away Charlie’s hand. ‘I’m going to go and find them.’
Charlie watches George barrel through the jitterbugging dancers. ‘Jaysus, Mary and Joseph.’ Gulping down his beer, he sets the glass down on the bandstand and heads after him.
***
‘I’ve missed you, Ellie Mae.’ Thomas wraps his arms around Ellie in the alley behind the Samson and Hercules.
‘It’s only been two days, Thomas.’
‘Half an hour in Plantation Garden is enough to be a torture, maid.’
Ellie loops her hand around his neck and pulls his mouth to her lips, pressing her body into his.
Sighing happily, she looks up at him, cupping his face with her hands. ‘Where did you come from, Thomas Parsons?’
‘From your dreams, Ellie Mae Burgess.’
‘I never imagined anyone like you in my wildest dreams.’
Thomas traces the contours of her face with his fingertip. ‘You never drew a picture of your true love? With lots of hearts and cupids, like I’ve seen the girls back home do? You’re an artist, aren’t you?’
‘I wasn’t a silly girl like that. But, Ruthie, now she was always in love with the latest movie star. Tyrone Power was her favourite. Anyway, I can’t draw from my imagination. I need to see what I’m drawing.’ She shrugs, her naked shoulders a soft white in the dull night light. ‘Sister Mary Geraldine told me once that I’m just a copyist. You never forget the people who tell you things like that.’
Thomas rubs his chin, drawing his eyebrows together in a frown.
‘Thomas? What’s the matter?’
‘You’re Catholic, Ellie Mae. Most everyone up on my part of the coast is Protestant. The Irish are all down around the south coast of Newfoundland, and from places like Ship Harbour where Charlie’s from and up on Fogo. My mam—’ Smiling, he pulls her closer. ‘My mam always warned me about Catholic girls.’
‘Your mother needs to broaden her point of view. Anyway, I’m just an adequate artist. I’m nothing special.’
Thomas’s eyes narrow. ‘Don’t you be talkin’ yourself down, Ellie Mae. You’ve got a fine talent. That Sister Mary Geraldine was full of baloney. Why haven’t I seen you draw anythin’ since we were at Holkham?’
Ellie rests her head against the khaki wool of Thomas’s uniform. His heart beats steadily under her ear. ‘It just seemed … frivolous, I suppose. Art was everything to me once. Then after Ruthie …’ She sighs, her breath puffing into the cool air like a small cloud.
Thomas rubs her back and whispers into her ear. ‘Promise me you’ll keep drawin’, m’ love. It’s part of you. Don’t you forget it.’
A clatter of tin as a rubbish bin crashes onto the cobbled alley. ‘Ellie!’ A slurred voice. ‘Ellie! What’s going on?’
Ellie and Thomas jolt apart. ‘George?’
‘You remember me, don’t you?’ George thumps his chest, throwing himself off balance. ‘I’m your fiancé.’
Charlie takes hold of George’s arm. ‘Steady on, b’y. Jaysus, you only had two beers. You definitely don’t have any Newfoundland blood in you.’
Shoving Charlie away, George walks unsteadily up the hill towards the couple. ‘Let’s go, Ellie. Charlie warned me about Tom. I won’t blame you.’
Ellie crosses her arms, shivering as the winter chill settles into her body. ‘Blame me for what, George? For wanting to be with someone who makes me feel special? Who treats me like a woman, instead of like some … some schoolmate? I’ll be twenty in September. I’m a woman, George, not that you’ve noticed.’
‘That’s not true, Ellie. I’ve noticed.’
‘You’ve a funny way of showing it.’
George flicks his gaze between Ellie and Thomas. ‘I gave you chocolates for Valentine’s. They were a week’s wages.’
‘Only after Dottie reminded you. And what about last year? You gave me a heart-shaped pencil rubber. What was I supposed to do with that?’
Charlie chuckles. ‘Oh, Georgie, b’y.’
George reaches out and tugs Ellie’s hand. ‘Come on, Ellie. I’ll bring you home. I’ve had enough of tonight.’
‘I’d let her go, if I were you, b’y.’ A nerve ticks in Thomas’s cheek.