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“Well, I for one hope that we’re far, far away from London,” announced Alexandra. “It seems a shame not to go somewhere completely different.”

“I heard they’re thinking about sending balloon units to Egypt,” said Grace.

“So far away?” Izzie immediately balked at that idea.

“WAAF balloon units in Egypt?” asked Nancy. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”

“Why not?” asked Amelia.

If they were sent to Egypt, how would she even begin to help Sylvia manage the shop and—

“I’d go,” said Grace.

“Well, it isn’t as though we have much of a choice,” said Nancy.

No, it wasn’t.

“My question is whether the Americans will need balloon girls now that they’ve started arriving,” said Amelia.

“I would have thought they’d have their own balloon units,” said Nancy.

“I’ve never met an American before,” mused Grace. “I wonder what they’re like.”

“Rather like us, I should think,” said Nancy.

“Except with funny accents,” said Molly with a laugh.

“Right,” said Lottie, setting down her empty cup and pushing back from the table. “As fascinating as this conversation is, I’m going to see what I can do about my hair before the dance tonight. Is anyone coming with me?”

“I’ll go with you if you’ll help me put my hair up,” said Amelia.

“Me too,” said Grace.

“Oh, come on. We might as well all go,” said Nancy.

“I still have a bit of tea left,” said Izzie lifting her cup.

“I’ll stay with you,” said Alexandra.

She shook her head. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m just going to finish here and then stop in to see if I have any post.”

“Are you certain?” asked Amelia.

“Positive,” she said.

“Could you see if any letters have come in for me?” asked Grace.

“And me,” said Lottie.

“If you don’t mind, Izzie,” said Molly.

“Why don’t I play postwoman for everyone?” she asked with a smile.

She watched her fellow WAAFs shuffle off, the stream of conversation continuing until she could no longer hear them. Their chatter reminded her of the good days of the shop, when Mum had employed Miss Reid and at least two other seamstresses, with other women coming in to help when times were particularly busy. After feeling rather alone at Innsworth, it had taken coming to RAF Titchfield and being embraced by her unit to make her realize that she’d missed the chatter of women punctuated by whirring sewing machines and the sharp snip of scissors cutting out fabric that she’d grown up with.

However, despite that, she cherished her snatched moments of solitude as well, and living with six other women in a hut didn’t give her many of those.

When she was certain that the other girls were gone, she stood, cleared her cup and saucer, and made for the base’s post office. Unlike at Innsworth, this was a proper post office with two WAAFs sitting behind the counter and no doubt more sorting the post in the back. She had to wait for a few moments behind a couple of men before she could step up to the counter.