straggly bunch of women trudging far behind her. “It’ll be dark soon and we have to be positioned on the cliffs by then.”
“I know where I’d like to bloomin’ position her,” Marge muttered.
Tramping alongside her, Nellie giggled. “Leave her alone. She’s in her glory when she can boss us around like this.”
Marge grunted. “It’s all a waste of time, if you ask me. We’ve been waiting five years for the Germans to invade. They’re not going to come now, are they. We’re winning the war. Mr. Churchill said so, and he should know.”
“We haven’t won it yet,” Nellie said, puffing a little with the exertion of marching uphill. “We’ve got to invade the Nazis now and turn the tables on them.”
“Well, they’ve been talking about that for weeks, too. Makes you wonder if this war is ever going to end.”
“Shut up talking down there!” Rita yelled, still prancing about in the middle of the road. “You want the enemy to hear you? This is supposed to be a secret mission!”
Nellie giggled again. “What makes her think they wouldn’t hear her? Not much secret about that yell, is there.”
“I’d like to see what she’d do if the Germans did invade,” Marge mumbled. “One glimpse of a U-boat and she’d wet her knickers. She’d be off faster than a scalded cat, leaving us all to face the buggers by ourselves.”
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about it. Like you said, the Nazis are not coming anywhere near this beach. Even if they did, they wouldn’t get past the mines without everyone knowing about it.”
“Try telling her that.” Marge nodded at Rita, who was now marching toward them.
A faint buzz in the distance heralded a vehicle coming along the coast road at a fast pace. Rita seemed to pay no attention to it, her focus squarely on the unruly members of the Housewives League. If there was one thing Rita couldn’t stand, it was being ignored.
Marge braced herself for one of Rita’s explosive tirades, which more often than not were directed at her. She couldn’t help it if she liked to talk. It wasn’t her fault if someone talked back with her. Yet she always got the blame for what Rita liked to call a “disruption.”
The roar of the engine grew louder, and Marge could tell it was a Jeep. Rita must have heard it, too. Although her back was toward the oncoming vehicle, she’d moved over to the right side of the road.
Knowing the Yanks’ tendency to drive on the wrong side of the road, the group of women made sure to stand well clear of the grass verge, crowding up to the railings that lined the cliffs. They all watched with gleeful expectation as Rita stood in the road, her hands dug into her hips, and cast a baleful eye on her wayward members.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” she began, “that when we’re on a mission . . .”
The Jeep roared into view, plunged past Rita with room to spare and continued on its way, rocketing from side to side as it careened around the bend.
“Lucky they weren’t driving on the wrong side,” Marge commented. “You’d be flat as a pancake by now.”
She nudged Nellie in the side as Rita glared at her, but Nellie was staring after the Jeep, her face creased in a frown. “They weren’t Yanks,” she said. “What were civvies doing in an American Jeep?”
“How’d you know they weren’t Yanks?” Marge demanded. “They could’ve just been dressed up in ordinary clothes.”
“Nah.” Nellie looked smug. “I can tell a Yank a mile off.”
“I don’t know how you could tell that. I couldn’t even see their faces. They had them covered with scarves.”
Florrie let out a shriek that startled them all. “Oh, my God! It was the three musketeers!”
A chorus of horrified exclamations greeted this alarming statement.
Rita bellowed above the din. “For heaven’s sake, shut up that bloody noise!”
The chatter died away, with one last echo of a whimper from Florrie.
“What are we going to
“I know where I’d like to bloomin’ position her,” Marge muttered.
Tramping alongside her, Nellie giggled. “Leave her alone. She’s in her glory when she can boss us around like this.”
Marge grunted. “It’s all a waste of time, if you ask me. We’ve been waiting five years for the Germans to invade. They’re not going to come now, are they. We’re winning the war. Mr. Churchill said so, and he should know.”
“We haven’t won it yet,” Nellie said, puffing a little with the exertion of marching uphill. “We’ve got to invade the Nazis now and turn the tables on them.”
“Well, they’ve been talking about that for weeks, too. Makes you wonder if this war is ever going to end.”
“Shut up talking down there!” Rita yelled, still prancing about in the middle of the road. “You want the enemy to hear you? This is supposed to be a secret mission!”
Nellie giggled again. “What makes her think they wouldn’t hear her? Not much secret about that yell, is there.”
“I’d like to see what she’d do if the Germans did invade,” Marge mumbled. “One glimpse of a U-boat and she’d wet her knickers. She’d be off faster than a scalded cat, leaving us all to face the buggers by ourselves.”
“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about it. Like you said, the Nazis are not coming anywhere near this beach. Even if they did, they wouldn’t get past the mines without everyone knowing about it.”
“Try telling her that.” Marge nodded at Rita, who was now marching toward them.
A faint buzz in the distance heralded a vehicle coming along the coast road at a fast pace. Rita seemed to pay no attention to it, her focus squarely on the unruly members of the Housewives League. If there was one thing Rita couldn’t stand, it was being ignored.
Marge braced herself for one of Rita’s explosive tirades, which more often than not were directed at her. She couldn’t help it if she liked to talk. It wasn’t her fault if someone talked back with her. Yet she always got the blame for what Rita liked to call a “disruption.”
The roar of the engine grew louder, and Marge could tell it was a Jeep. Rita must have heard it, too. Although her back was toward the oncoming vehicle, she’d moved over to the right side of the road.
Knowing the Yanks’ tendency to drive on the wrong side of the road, the group of women made sure to stand well clear of the grass verge, crowding up to the railings that lined the cliffs. They all watched with gleeful expectation as Rita stood in the road, her hands dug into her hips, and cast a baleful eye on her wayward members.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” she began, “that when we’re on a mission . . .”
The Jeep roared into view, plunged past Rita with room to spare and continued on its way, rocketing from side to side as it careened around the bend.
“Lucky they weren’t driving on the wrong side,” Marge commented. “You’d be flat as a pancake by now.”
She nudged Nellie in the side as Rita glared at her, but Nellie was staring after the Jeep, her face creased in a frown. “They weren’t Yanks,” she said. “What were civvies doing in an American Jeep?”
“How’d you know they weren’t Yanks?” Marge demanded. “They could’ve just been dressed up in ordinary clothes.”
“Nah.” Nellie looked smug. “I can tell a Yank a mile off.”
“I don’t know how you could tell that. I couldn’t even see their faces. They had them covered with scarves.”
Florrie let out a shriek that startled them all. “Oh, my God! It was the three musketeers!”
A chorus of horrified exclamations greeted this alarming statement.
Rita bellowed above the din. “For heaven’s sake, shut up that bloody noise!”
The chatter died away, with one last echo of a whimper from Florrie.
“What are we going to
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