His Very Own Girl by Carrie Lofty Page A

and Nicky could play backgammon. They’d talk over coffee and listen to the BBC Home Service at nine. It might begin awkwardly as they found their footing—stuck between colleagues, friends, and a little more. With him, she might rediscover something vital, something as precious as lost treasure: peace of mind.
    But the car horn blared again, longer and more impatiently. She tightened the sash of her greatcoat and headed out the door.
      
    Joe was dancing with a short blonde nurse from Wolverhampton when Lulu walked in. He hadn’t known she would be there. But with a weekend pass, the Henley was as good a place as any to spend a Saturday night. He hadn’t been back since fighting Dixon. The odds of running into him once again were probably greater than seeing Lulu, but Joe had taken the chance.
    When the song ended Joe spun his partner and finished with a dip. She laughed, a titter so high-pitched that it sailed over the noise of the crowd. “Thanks for the dance,” he said.
    “You could buy me a drink.”
    He couldn’t remember her name. His gaze was pulled to the front door, where he hoped to catch another glimpse of Lulu. She was still there; a pair of Polish servicemen were already chatting up her and Paulie.
    “Maybe some other time,” he said.
    The nurse caught the direction of his interest. Her smile turned cheeky. “Pilots. They have all the fun. Take care, soldier.” She landed a new partner before reaching the edge of the floor.
    Joe weaved his way through the dancers as “Jeepers Creepers” began to play. Lulu was just accepting a drink from a dark-haired RAF captain. They looked good together—His Majesty’s loyal subjects ready to sacrifice everything to safeguard their kingdom. So good, in fact, that Joe nearly talked himself out of speaking to her. He could take a hint. If the risk of getting to know a soldier was one she didn’t want to take, then he could hardly change her mind.
    Hell, he almost didn’t want to. Waiting on news from a friend would make her just like those riflemen who, after McIntosh’s accident, had stood around dumbstruck and anxious. Waiting on news sounded like a vile curse.
    Then he remembered her kiss. And he remembered being stuck in Plainfield, when he hadn’t seen a smiling female face for three years, let alone had the opportunity to kiss one. Lulu made him bold. The recklessness she wore like her uniform gave him a taste for what it was to be free—not just out of detention, but really free .
    Joe tapped her on the shoulder. “Dance with me?”
    Expressions scattered across her face: surprise, happiness, a flash of fear. Then . . . nothing.
    “No.”
    “C’mon, Lulu. Be serious. Dance with me.”
    “I said no.”
    “Just like that?” The blood in his ears wouldn’t be quiet. “Just like that and we’re nothing? How can you do that?”
    The handsome RAF captain pushed hard on Joe’s chest. “The lady said no, Yank. I suggest you pay attention.”
    Joe looked to Lulu once more, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She kept herself hidden behind her flygirl posturing, like a glass box he wanted to bust so as to snatch the treasure hidden inside. Only he couldn’t, because then something strange and beautiful would be broken.
    His movements stiff, he turned away from the couple. He’d leave her to it. She was out for a good time, and who could blame her? He had been, too, on that night when they’d officially met. It wasn’t her fault that she had him thinking beyond dances and drinks.
    Maybe that was it. He wasn’t one to kid himself about what he wanted. One day, once he was done with fighting, he wanted to own a garage where he could repair cars—beauties like Studebakers and Oldsmobiles. He’d already completed a year as a mechanic’s apprentice before signing up with the army. After another year or two he could begin again in a city where no one knew his past. He’d find a good woman to keep him fed and happy, to help raise their kids, to