Free A Rose for the Anzac Boys by Jackie French Page B

Chocolate’s bad for my spots, anyway.’ Anne grinned from her seat on the bed. She was on the day shift too today. Her apron still held its morning crispness, freshly ironed by Beryl as though it had been a morning dress back home. ‘Now, of course, your lovelycaptain will bring you a whole box of chocs and our effort will be put in the shade.’
    ‘He’s not “my captain”. He’s…’ What was he, wondered Midge. Her friend?
    Anne’s grin grew wider. She put on a cockney accent. ‘He’s the bloke you’re walkin’ out with, that’s what.’
    ‘We haven’t done any walking yet!’
    ‘True. But you’ve written to him every second day for the last month. And you let him call you by your first name.’
    ‘How do you—’
    ‘I saw one of his letters. No, I didn’t read it. You left it on your bed and I only saw the beginning. Darling, I’m not your aunt. Or your chaperone. What does he look like? A nice warrior Achilles? I always loved Achilles at school. Even Miss Torrens couldn’t spoil him.’
    Midge hesitated. ‘He’s…he’s nice, Anne. He makes me think of…oh, things other than the war.’
    ‘And undoubtedly you do the same for him,’ said Anne drily. ‘My dear, you grab it with both hands. Now, hadn’t you better get dressed? His train will be here soon.’
    ‘What shall I wear?’
    ‘As though one had a choice—unless you’ve sent a wire to your aunt for more clothes in the last two days? Blue serge, grey serge, blue wool…’
    Midge put down her grey serge and picked up the green one, the colour like the willow trees of home. ‘Anne…do you think one day that you’ll—’
    ‘Fall in love? I’m immune,’ Anne said lightly. ‘When one knows one’s marriage arrangements have been plannedsince the day one was born…well, it puts a crimp in any dreams of love. Every day we’re here I bless the war. I’m probably the only person in the world who does. No debutante season till the war is over. No one to count one’s spots. No feathers in one’s hair and damned court dress. No smiling at every eligible in the stud book for little Anne. Not till my spots are gone and I can do Mummy proud at any rate. Now, darling, you go and enjoy yourself. Make hay while the sun shines and all the rest of it.’
    Midge peered out through the limp curtains. ‘It’s raining. Drizzling, anyhow.’
    ‘What does one make in drizzle then?’ Anne sighed. ‘Cocoa. Another thousand gallons of bloody cocoa.’
    ‘Anne!’
    Anne giggled. ‘Wouldn’t Mummy be shocked. Maybe I should try it when I go home. Give one another bloody sherry, Wilkins. It’d do you good to swear a bit.’
    ‘I’ll swear when you say “weekend”.’
    ‘Darling, that middle-class word! Mummy would have pink kittens.’ Anne looked down at the small gold watch on her wrist. It had been a present from Lady George before they left. ‘Darling, I don’t want to hurry you, but what time did you say his train arrived?’
    ‘Ten past eight. Oh…’ Midge hesitated.
    ‘Say it, darling. Damn. Bloody hell.’ Anne sighed theatrically. ‘You colonials. Always so proper.’
    Midge grinned. ‘Bloody hell then, I’m late. That satisfy you?’ She slid the dress over her petticoat and reached behind to do up the buttons. Anne helped her.
    ‘What do you plan to do with him?’ she asked.
    ‘You make it sound like I’m holding up a post office. I don’t know really. Walk to the hotel with him, wait while he leaves his bag. He’s only got the two days’ leave. Maybe a walk along the river if this rain stops. I asked Madame if she could make us some sandwiches for a picnic.’
    ‘ L’amour parmi les meules de foin .’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘Love among the haystacks, darling.’ Anne stretched. ‘To think we could be back in school now. You could be brushing up on your irregular verbs instead of thinking about irregular behaviour.’
    Midge was blushing. ‘Anne, I’m not—’
    Anne laughed. ‘Don’t mind me.