‘Yes,’ said Iris. ‘A birthday dance.’
‘Do you want to?’ said Jacob dubiously to Beth, like there could be any question.
‘I’d love to,’ said Beth, removing her glasses to wipe them again.
‘Give them to me,’ said Clare, grabbing them from her as she and Jacob left, scrambling over the rest of them. ‘They’ll only get in the way. Jacob, just make sure to dance nice and close to her so that she can see you.’
‘And don’t leave her to find her way back alone,’ said Robbie.
‘No, definitely don’t do that,’ said Beth.
‘You’d better hold her hand,’ said Ames.
‘All right,’ said Jacob, and, as though under duress, offered his to Beth.
But Iris didn’t miss his smile as Beth took it. Or the tenderness with which he pulled her to him, carefully navigating her through the crowds for the dance floor.
‘Why won’t he just ask her out?’ she said, turning to Robbie. ‘All these dances, and he hasn’t even taken her on a trip to the pictures.’
‘He thinks it would be irresponsible of him to get into anything with anyone,’ Robbie said, watching them go.
She watched him doing it, her eyes moving over his face, that she loved, and was as handsome as ever, but bruised by new shadows that hadn’t been there at the start of March. The creases around his eyes – grooves formed from the intensity with which she pictured him staring out of the cockpit – had grown more pronounced too.
He looked so deeply tired.
All of them did.
Lewis – topping up Clare’s glass – appeared closer to thirty than the twenty Iris now knew he was.
They should all be back at Doverley in bed, probably. Getting some rest for once.
‘He thinks I’m irresponsible, being with you,’ Robbie continued, turning back to her, his words sending yet another shiver of unease snaking down her spine.
‘And what do you think?’ she asked him, battling to ignore it.
‘I think if I am, there’s nothing I can do about it.’ A smile played on his lips, pulling at the muscles in his cheeks. ‘I could never resist you.’
‘That’s very good to know,’ she said. ‘And –’ she leant towards him, whispering in his ear – ‘I don’t really wish you were an American.’
‘I don’t wish you were one either,’ he whispered back.
Quietly, she laughed, threading her fingers with his.
‘Will you dance with me?’ he asked.
‘I’ll always dance with you,’ she said.
And, together, they got up.
She didn’t look back at the others as they followed in Jacob and Beth’s steps to the dancefloor, so didn’t register Tim’s eyes on them as they walked away.
Clare noticed him watching them though.
‘Look after that boy, won’t you,’ she said to Iris, much later that night, when, after Bettys’ band had finished playing, and every cocktail had been drained, they’d all crammed back into their cavalcade of motors and returned to Doverley.
‘Which boy?’ Iris asked, crossing to their stained bureau, her mind still with Robbie, on whose lap she’d sat the entire drive home.
‘Tim,’ Clare said. ‘You know, the one who uses up his sugar ration to carry a sweet for you on every mission, just to believe he’ll survive. He loves you so.’
