‘Boys? Sod off, mate,’ said the soldier. He gave a derisory glance in Fitz’s direction, before spinning on his heel and practically pushing his group out of the station.
‘Thanks for that,’ said Elsie. ‘And sorry. I guess some of the British lads forget how to treat a lady.’
Fitz didn’t miss the eye flutter her new friend offered the Americans and internally bristled at the notion she needed someone to look out for her. ‘We did have that covered, you know. I could handle them myself.’
The American eyed her with amusement. ‘Sure. I have no doubt, but I needed an excuse to come talk to you.’
Fitz raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’
‘Certainly is, Ma’am.’ He gave a quick salute. ‘Flying Officer Sam Carter, at your service.’
‘Well, Flying Officer Sam Carter, you’ve done your good deed for the day and we won’t keep you any longer.’ Fitz offered a tight smile to Carter and to the other airman, before picking up her suitcase and holding her head up high, walked towards the exit. After a few moments, she heard Elsie’s footsteps clattering behind her as she hurried to catch up.
‘What’s the rush?’ asked Elsie, falling into step alongside Fitz. ‘I was quite enjoying myself there for a moment.’
‘Maybe so, but I didn’t want to encourage them. We’re not pieces of meat that can be fought over.’
‘Ooh, get you,’ said Elsie. ‘Lady Fitz-Herbert. Honestly, you can tell me, you’ve got to be a lady with a name like that and an accent like cut glass.’
It wasn’t said with any malice and Fitz found herself smiling. She slowed her pace. ‘Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not a lady.’
‘But you’re posh.’
‘That’s a matter of relativity,’ said Fitz. ‘Come on, we need to find our transport.’
They made their way through the ticket office. Something made Fitz glance back at Sam Carter. He was still watching her and gave her a wink. Fitz immediately looked away. She could feel the colour rising up her neck.
‘Why have you got that silly smile on your face?’ asked Elsie.
‘I haven’t.’ Fitz forcibly schooled her face into a neutral expression.
They exited the ticket office and stood on the pavement, looking around for their transport to the CFS. There were five other smartly dressed young women congregated further along, each with a suitcase.
Fitz approached them. ‘Hello. Are you for the CFS?’
‘Yes, we are,’ said one of them. ‘Marjorie Timpson.’
They all made their introductions to each other, although Fitz wasn’t sure she’d remember their names straight off but they all seemed a likeable bunch.
An army lorry started its engine and, packed with soldiers, pulled away from the pavement. Fitz noticed one of the soldiers at the back was the chap from the platform. He spotted Fitz.
‘See you later, beautiful!’ he called out, blowing a kiss in her direction, which caused laughter amongst the men.
‘Is that your boyfriend?’ asked Marjorie.
‘You must be joking,’ said Fitz, resisting the urge to shout something wholly inappropriate at the soldier. ‘Wouldn’t be seen dead with him.’
‘Eyes up, girls,’ said another of the women.
Everyone looked ahead as Flying Officer Sam Carter and his friend appeared from the ticket office. He glanced their way and made eye contact with Fitz and smiled at her.
Fitz held his gaze, not blinking, in a game of brinkmanship she didn’t know why she’d entered. Goodness, he needed to stop looking at her like that. And as for that smile. He had no business to flash that around.
Sam did, in fact, break his gaze first and climbed into a waiting car, which drove them away.
Fitz let out a sigh of relief.
‘Did you see that?’ exclaimed one of the women.
