to focus on the dancers. The music seemed to be roaring inside her head in waves, minglingwith the sound of people’s voices. She wanted to go to sit down but she couldn’t seem to find her way off the dance floor. She blundered into a dancing couple, earning herself a disgusted look.
‘Some people,’ the girl muttered.
‘Looks to me like she’s had too much to drink,’ her companion commented.
Diane didn’t hear them. Her head was beginning to pound. She felt hot and sweaty and decidedly unwell. Where was Myra? She could see couples dancing cheek to cheek all around her. Just like she had once done with Kit. Kit…It was his fault she was here on her own without him. Her alcohol-muddled emotions filled her eyes with tears.
‘Kit…’ She had no awareness of saying his name out aloud as she twisted and turned on the dance floor, looking for a familiar face. Myra was forgotten; it was Kit she wanted. Through the blur of her tears she could see the back of the familiar RAF uniform in front of her. Unsteadily she made her way towards it, reaching out to put her hand on the arm of the airforce-blue jacket, as she pleaded, ‘Kit…’
‘Hey, what the…?’ The man looking at her was a stranger. An angry-looking stranger. Diane backed away from him, cannoning into another couple.
‘Well, really. How disgraceful.’ The woman’s coldly disapproving voice made him turn to look at her. She was dancing with a man who looked vaguely familiar. He was wearing an American uniform. His gaze flicked disparagingly over her.
‘I think you should go and sit down,’ he told her curtly.
‘I can’t find Kit,’ Diane told him, hiccuping loudly.
‘Ignore her, Lee. She’s drunk. Her sort brings disgrace on all of us. She ought to be made to leave.’
‘Can’t leave,’ Diane answered her, her voice slurred. ‘Not without my friend…I know you and I don’t like you,’ she told the man, suddenly recognising him. ‘You’re that American major that I don’t like…’ She hiccuped and staggered away into the middle of the crowded floor. Her eyeballs hurt and so did her head and her stomach. She needed to go somewhere cool and quiet and lie down. Unsteadily she started to make her way to the edge of the dance floor.
‘Just look at that woman,’ Emily commented contemptuously. ‘She can hardly stand up straight.’
‘Poor thing,’ Jess commiserated. ‘She doesn’t look at all well.’
‘She’s drunk,’ Emily said sharply.
‘Oh, no, look, if she’s not careful she’s going to fall over.’ Jess pushed back her chair and hurried to where Diane was on the point of collapsing. ‘Come and give us a hand,’ she called out to the others. ‘We need to get her into the ladies’.’
Immediately Ruthie rushed to join her.
‘You get under that arm, Ruthie, and I’ll take this one…’
‘Why don’t you leave her? Why should we help her?’ Emily demanded.
‘Well, it doesn’t look as though anyone else isgoing to, poor soul. Come on, Em, and you too, Lucy. She’s in a bad way.’
‘Well, it’s her own fault.’
Somehow between them they managed to get her into the ladies’ – and only just in time.
‘Gawd, if she don’t stop heaving soon, I’m going to be doing the same meself,’ Lucy complained.
‘Go and tell them at the bar that we need some water, Lucy,’ Jess commanded.
‘It’s all right, you’ve just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all,’ she tried to comfort Diane, who was now moaning weakly.
‘A bit too much!’ Emily muttered firmly. ‘More like a bloody hell of a lot too much.’
Diane shivered. Her stomach and her throat ached from being sick, but her head was starting to clear. She heard what Emily said and she shook her head. ‘All I had was a shandy,’ she told her.
‘A shandy? Give over, a shandy never got anyone in the state you’re in, staggering all over the dance floor and then trying it on with that RAF chap. No wonder that GI was giving you
‘Some people,’ the girl muttered.
‘Looks to me like she’s had too much to drink,’ her companion commented.
Diane didn’t hear them. Her head was beginning to pound. She felt hot and sweaty and decidedly unwell. Where was Myra? She could see couples dancing cheek to cheek all around her. Just like she had once done with Kit. Kit…It was his fault she was here on her own without him. Her alcohol-muddled emotions filled her eyes with tears.
‘Kit…’ She had no awareness of saying his name out aloud as she twisted and turned on the dance floor, looking for a familiar face. Myra was forgotten; it was Kit she wanted. Through the blur of her tears she could see the back of the familiar RAF uniform in front of her. Unsteadily she made her way towards it, reaching out to put her hand on the arm of the airforce-blue jacket, as she pleaded, ‘Kit…’
‘Hey, what the…?’ The man looking at her was a stranger. An angry-looking stranger. Diane backed away from him, cannoning into another couple.
‘Well, really. How disgraceful.’ The woman’s coldly disapproving voice made him turn to look at her. She was dancing with a man who looked vaguely familiar. He was wearing an American uniform. His gaze flicked disparagingly over her.
‘I think you should go and sit down,’ he told her curtly.
‘I can’t find Kit,’ Diane told him, hiccuping loudly.
‘Ignore her, Lee. She’s drunk. Her sort brings disgrace on all of us. She ought to be made to leave.’
‘Can’t leave,’ Diane answered her, her voice slurred. ‘Not without my friend…I know you and I don’t like you,’ she told the man, suddenly recognising him. ‘You’re that American major that I don’t like…’ She hiccuped and staggered away into the middle of the crowded floor. Her eyeballs hurt and so did her head and her stomach. She needed to go somewhere cool and quiet and lie down. Unsteadily she started to make her way to the edge of the dance floor.
‘Just look at that woman,’ Emily commented contemptuously. ‘She can hardly stand up straight.’
‘Poor thing,’ Jess commiserated. ‘She doesn’t look at all well.’
‘She’s drunk,’ Emily said sharply.
‘Oh, no, look, if she’s not careful she’s going to fall over.’ Jess pushed back her chair and hurried to where Diane was on the point of collapsing. ‘Come and give us a hand,’ she called out to the others. ‘We need to get her into the ladies’.’
Immediately Ruthie rushed to join her.
‘You get under that arm, Ruthie, and I’ll take this one…’
‘Why don’t you leave her? Why should we help her?’ Emily demanded.
‘Well, it doesn’t look as though anyone else isgoing to, poor soul. Come on, Em, and you too, Lucy. She’s in a bad way.’
‘Well, it’s her own fault.’
Somehow between them they managed to get her into the ladies’ – and only just in time.
‘Gawd, if she don’t stop heaving soon, I’m going to be doing the same meself,’ Lucy complained.
‘Go and tell them at the bar that we need some water, Lucy,’ Jess commanded.
‘It’s all right, you’ve just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all,’ she tried to comfort Diane, who was now moaning weakly.
‘A bit too much!’ Emily muttered firmly. ‘More like a bloody hell of a lot too much.’
Diane shivered. Her stomach and her throat ached from being sick, but her head was starting to clear. She heard what Emily said and she shook her head. ‘All I had was a shandy,’ she told her.
‘A shandy? Give over, a shandy never got anyone in the state you’re in, staggering all over the dance floor and then trying it on with that RAF chap. No wonder that GI was giving you
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