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“If I like his letter, I think I will,” she said, even though she knew that she would be waiting for the post every day until he did.

April 27, 1942

Dear Izzie,

I hope that you were serious when you said that I might write to you because I’ve been wanting to since the moment I left you on Friday night. However, I forced myself to wait because I didn’t want you to think that I’m the sort of man who rushes into things without considering them carefully.

The truth is, I haven’t thought of much besides you since our first dance together. The only thing that’s saved me from being made an object of fun by all the rest of the guys is that Harry’s feet still haven’t touched the floor after your little redheaded friend kissed him.

As you can imagine, the USAAF tries its best to keep our minds off of pretty girls and on the task of surveying for and building bases, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until I find out whether you want to see me again.

Thinking of nothing but you,

Jack

29 April 1942

Dear Jack,

I will admit, I was beginning to grow very cross with you until, on Tuesday morning before heading out to tend to our balloon, I received your letter. I ripped it open straightaway, and I was so happy to read that you’ve been thinking about me just as I’ve been thinking about you.

I must admit, I wasn’t certain you would come to the dance on Friday. I very much wanted you to be there, but I assumed that you would have forgotten me as soon as you met me. Alexandra tells me that is ridiculous, but there hasn’t been much time for dances and men while working at Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions all these years.

I would very much like to see you again.

Yours,

Izzie

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sylvia clutched her umbrella, doing her best to steady it in the rain. It was not the usual misty drizzle that often hung over London during the winter, but the sheeting rain of the spring that pounded the pavement so hard that it bounced back up and soaked the tops of her leather shoes as she hurried along.

She was just turning the corner onto Glengall Road when a lorry roared by, driving through a deep puddle. The mucky water splashed up across the pavement, drenching her.

Sylvia screamed in horror as the lorry sped off and left her standing dripping on the side of the road. Everything from the bodice of her dusty-rose dress to her stockings and shoes was now soaked and stained.

“Would you look at that!”

Sylvia turned to see Mrs. Reynolds, broom in hand, looking on from her shop doorway. She braced herself, expecting the grocery owner to click her tongue and say something caustic about how Sylvia had probably done something to deserve the soaking. Instead, Mrs. Reynolds asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I think so, but my dress is ruined,” she said with a sigh. She would have to go home to change—when, she didn’t know because she had a stack of invoices to pay and a committee meeting looming over her afternoon before she would need to return to the shop to finish her work.

“Inconsiderate man,” grumbled Mrs. Reynolds. “He looked hale and hearty and young enough to serve, so I don’t know what he was doing behind the wheel of a lorry in London.”

“If ever there was an argument for women drivers, it’s this,” Sylvia said. A woman never would have driven off without a word.

“Is that what your sister’s doing?” asked Mrs. Reynolds.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“Those of us around the neighborhood have been wondering about her. We know she joined the WAAF, but no one’s had any word from her,” said Mrs. Reynolds.

Sylvia hadn’t had much word from Izzie either recently. The last letter she’d sent Izzie had been a risk. When she’d sat down to write it, she hadn’t meant to detail their mother’s humiliation at the hands of the Sheltons. It had simply come out as she grasped for a way to try to make Izzie understand that there might only be four years between them but the sisters might as well have been from different generations.

“She’s on a barrage balloon unit in East Anglia,” she said.

Mrs. Reynolds nodded her approval. “All of that silk needs someone good with a needle to keep an eye on it.”