THE WAR BRIDE CLUB (2 page)

      Betty felt all eyes on her. There had been times she’d wondered what it would feel like to be interrogated, to be a prisoner of war like she’d feared her husband could have been, and now she had an inkling of what it might be like.
 

      “Betty?”

      They deserved to know. She knew that. They had shown her kindness, helped her, when she needed it most. But could she risk it?

      The faces around her were smiling, worried, tense.
 

      She blew out a deep breath. There wasn’t an easy way to say it. “Eight months.”

      “Oh my goodness, and you were trying to wear a corset?”

      Betty’s face flushed burning hot, her breath caught in her throat, but a warm hand thrust into hers helped to steady her. It was Alice’s face she braved a look at first, followed by June – who was looking upset but not angry, and then Madeline. The other girl still looked alarmed.

      Betty swallowed her emotion and thrust her chin up.
 

      “I just didn’t want to do this alone. I wanted to be with my husband. I’ve no one else.”

      The nodding of heads around her made her realize she wasn’t alone.

      “And you felt like you’d waited long enough?” asked June.
 

      “There are lots of pregnant women on board,” said Madeline, her voice reassuring. “It’s not like being pregnant or having a child with you is forbidden.”

      She shrugged and glanced at the girls. “They would have wanted a doctor to examine me first, and I’m too far along to be allowed on the ship.” She rubbed her belly. “There’s more than a chance I’ll have this baby on board. Once we’re out at sea there’s nothing they can do, but they could have stopped me getting on in the first place.”

      They looked at her, a combination of smiles and frowns. She guessed they all understood, in a way. As would the women divided into the other side of the ship with their children. What had the paper called them?
The floating nursery?

      It was a feeling they all knew well, that desperation to be with their men. It wasn’t every day you were surrounded by women who felt the same way, who were in love and desperate to see
, to feel
, their husbands in their arms again.

      “So how did you meet yours?” Betty asked.

      Alice laughed. A gentle noise that made even Betty, with her still-aching stomach, grin.
 

      “You do realize we’ve all got different answers to that question,” Alice pointed out.
 

      “And we probably all have really
long
answers to that question,” chimed in June.
 

      “Just so happens I’ve got all night,” said Betty.
 

      “I think what we need is something to eat, then we can yap all afternoon.”

      Betty smiled at Madeline. “I’m all for eating,” she said, rubbing her belly. “But I think I’ll stay put here for a bit longer.”

      Madeline stretched and stood. “I’ll go investigate. Anyone else want to come?”

      Alice jumped up and joined Madeline, leaving Betty to stay reclined, with June tucking up in the adjoining hammock bed beside her for company. June might have been quietier than the others, but there was something very reassuring about having her near.

It seemed odd lying next to a pregnant woman who she’d only known for an hour, but somehow it felt right. They both lay in silence – the sort of silence that wasn’t empty, that didn’t need to be filled.
 

      “So how long have you been married?”

      That made Betty smile. “Guess?”

      “Don’t tell me. Eight months?”

      They both laughed.
 

      “I got pregnant on our honeymoon. We spent a weekend together at a little guest house, and I’ve only seen him once since.”

      June nodded. “I haven’t seen my man since he left after our wedding.”

      “Are you nervous about seeing him again?” Betty asked.
 

      Their eyes met, warily at first, but June recognized her feelings reflected in her new friend’s gaze. It was a hard emotion to describe, one that only another war bride could ever share, but still June had worried that she was the only one terrified of seeing her husband again. They had met and fallen in love so quickly, faster than would ever have been allowed if the war hadn’t been breathing down their necks. But fallen in love she had, and now she’d left everything she had ever known behind. Forever.
 

      “So tell me about him. Your man. What’s he like?”

      Betty had looked exhausted, but the question about her husband seemed to revive her.
 

      “I need a few more minutes to catch my breath.” Betty smiled and changed position. “You go first.”

      June reached over to plump the two pillows behind Betty’s back and wriggled to sit cross-legged on the hammock beside her, thankful it was sturdier than it looked. It was like sitting with her sister, like they’d always done at night, gabbing away about what they had seen that day, who they had talked to, and of course who they’d fallen in love with.
 

      A pang of sadness made her ache, but she did her best to ignore it. She’d agonized for months about leaving her family; about never seeing her sister again or her mother and father. For all twenty-one years of her life, they’d meant the world to her, and now she’d left them forever to follow a handsome soldier she hardly knew. But then she had known that when she’d married him, that if he survived the war she would have to travel to be with him, and besides, she’d made a promise before God.
 

      “You want the short version or the long version?”
 

      Betty rubbed her hands together and smiled. “I want every last detail,” she said, resting her hands on her belly. “I’m a hopeless romantic, in case you hadn’t already figured out.”

      The clatter of heels made them both turn to look, and Alice and Madeline appeared in the doorway. They’d managed to smuggle four cups of something steaming, and what appeared to be some tomato sandwiches.
 

      “You’re just in time,” announced Betty.
 

      “For what?”

      Madeline passed two cups to Betty and climbed onto the edge of the facing sling. Alice did the same for June.
 

      “June’s about to tell me how she met her man.”

      All eyes turned to June, and suddenly she wasn’t sure if her story was even interesting enough to tell three other women.

      “It’s really not that interesting.”

      “Nonsense,” insisted Betty. “Now settle back down and get talking.”

      So she did. With three pairs of eyes on her and a cup of sweet tea in her hands, June let her mind drift back to almost eighteen months ago, when she’d first met the man of her dreams.

CHAPTER TWO

WIND echoed through the trees and pulled her along in its embrace. She felt lucky today - there had been no bombs, no explosions to hinder the warmth of the sun. For once it was high in the sky and not hidden behind grimy clouds and belching smoke-filled air.
 

      That was when she saw him. Sitting on a park bench, his head lolled back as if his neck could snap with the weight of it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a soldier before. Almost all of the boys she’d grown up with or known from the neighborhood were off fighting in the war, and the only young men she’d seen of late had been soldiers. But he was different.
 

      June had heard talk of the American soldiers, even seen a few of them, or heard them wolf-whistling out to the girls when they passed. They wore uniforms that looked clean and crisp, not quite freshly laundered, but close. They would stand on street corners chewing their gum, talking in their drawling accents.

      This young man looked just like them, in his five-button uniform jacket, but he wasn’t moving an inch and he was all alone.
 

      June didn’t know what to do. It was only a few minutes walk to her house, and she didn’t want to just leave him there.
Couldn’t
just leave him there. He was a soldier, from an allied country, so it wouldn’t be right to just ignore him.
Would it?

      “Huh-hmm.” June cleared her throat with as much force as she could, almost starting a coughing fit. “Excuse me, sir.”

      She wondered if he was injured. There was no blood or wound she could see, but he seemed to be in a very heavy slumber.
 

      She took a step forward, then another, inching slowly closer to him. She went to open her mouth then gulped back the air already in her lungs. He stunk. The pungent stench of alcohol seemed to seep from him.
 

      “Yoo-hoo,” she muttered. When there was still no response she kicked him firmly in the lower leg. “Soldier, wake up!”

      A snort of a snore emitted from him and then his head snapped straight up. June jumped at least a foot backward, eyeing him cautiously.
 

      “Soldier, you must have fallen asleep.”
 

      He blinked a few times before dropping his head in his open palms and rubbing at his face.

      June waited. She quickly smoothed her hair, then folded her hands in front of her.
 

      “Are you okay?” she asked.
 

      The soldier shook his head and squinted one eye at her, as if the sun was simply too bright for his pupils, then cleared his throat.
 

      “I think I’m drunk.”

      She tried not to giggle. As if his accent wasn’t funny enough without a drunken slur attached to it.
 

      “I think,” she said, “that you might be correct.”
 

      He tried to stand up and sat back down again with a thump.
 

      “Yup.” He hiccupped.
 

      June went against her better judgement and, balancing her bag of groceries in one hand, moved forward to offer him the other.
 
How had a simple trip to the store ended in a rescue mission of a stranger?

      “Here, take my arm. I’ll take you home with me to clean you up.”

      “You would?”

      He stumbled as she helped him, his face falling only inches away from her own. Even smelling like a pub and unable to stand on his own feet, June couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. He had dark brown hair that had flopped ever so slightly over his forehead, touching the tips of his eyebrows. Eyes the color of a hazelnut stared back at her – even slightly glassy and alcohol-enhanced, they were the most honest, deep eyes she had ever looked into.
 

      “Hi,” he said, looking like a puppy dog as he watched her back.

      “Come on.” June forced herself to look away. “Just put one foot in front of the other.”

      And so they walked. She assisting a soldier, and he gazing back at her as if he’d never in his life seen a woman before.
 

June took a deep lungful of air before pushing open the door to her house. She didn’t exactly want to be alone, unescorted with a strange man. She’d never caused her parents alarm before, and she didn’t want to start now.
 

      “Hello. Anyone here?” she called down the hallway.
 

      There was no reply.
 

      “Ma!” she hollered this time.
 

      When there was no response June went
 
against her better judgement again and hauled the soldier in with her. He’d hardly uttered a word the entire way, with the exception of the odd hiccup or apology for stumbling.
 

      “Come on now, sit here,” she instructed him.
 

      The soldier did as he was told, thumping down in a seat at the table. June looked out the window and saw her mother wrestling with washing on the line. It gave June a few moments to compose herself before going out and explaining that they had company.
 

      “What’s your name?” she asked, busying herself with putting the kettle on to boil.
 

      He gazed up at her, a goofy smile on his face.
 

      “Edward West,” he told her. “My friends call me Eddie.”

      She smiled over at him as she poured them tea. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Edward. My name’s June.”

      He took the cup happily, holding on to it while she spooned some sugar and gave the liquid a stir.
 

      “Now, Edward…”
 

      He interrupted her.
 

      “Eddie,” he said, narrowly avoiding swishing his tea over the floor. “You can call me Eddie.”

      “Eddie, my mother will be inside soon, and I need you to sober up. She doesn’t take kindly to men that drink.’