Winter of the World

She put on new underwear. She tried on all her dresses. She liked the look of one with fine blue-and-white stripes, but all down the front it had little buttons that would take forever to undo, and she knew she would want to undress quickly. I’m thinking like a whore, she realized, and she did not know whether to be amused or ashamed. In the end, she decided on a simple peppermint-green cashmere knee-length that showed off her shapely legs.

She studied herself in the narrow mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. She looked good.

She perched on the edge of the bed to put her stockings on, and Boy came in.

Daisy felt faint. If she had not been sitting she would have fallen down. She stared at him in disbelief.

‘Surprise!’ he said with jollity. ‘I came a day early.’

‘Yes,’ she said when at last she was able to speak. ‘Surprise.’

He bent down and kissed her. She had never much liked his tongue in her mouth, because he always tasted of booze and cigars. He did not mind her distaste – in fact, he seemed to enjoy forcing the issue. But now, out of guilt, she tongued him back.

‘Gosh!’ he said when he ran out of breath. ‘You’re frisky.’

You have no idea, Daisy thought; at least, I hope you don’t.

‘The exercise was brought forward by a day,’ he explained. ‘No time to warn you.’

‘So you’re here for the night,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

And Lloyd was leaving in the morning.

‘You don’t seem very pleased,’ Boy said. He looked at her dress. ‘Did you have something else planned?’

‘Such as what?’ she said. She had to regain her composure. ‘A night out at the Two Crowns pub, perhaps?’ she asked sarcastically.

‘Speaking of that, let’s have a drink.’ He left the room in search of booze.

Daisy buried her face in her hands. How could this be? Her plan was ruined. She would have to find some way of alerting Lloyd. And she could not declare her love for him in a hurried whisper with Boy around the corner.

She told herself that the whole scheme would simply be postponed. It was only for a few days: he was due back next Tuesday. The delay would be agonizing, but she would survive, and so would her love. All the same, she almost cried with disappointment.

She finished putting on her stockings and shoes, then she went into the little sitting room.

Boy had found a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. She took some to be convivial. He said: ‘I see that girl is making a fish pie for supper. I’m starving. Is she a good cook?’

‘Not really. Her food is edible, if you’re hungry.’

‘Oh, well, there’s always whisky,’ he said, and he poured himself another drink.

‘What have you been doing?’ She was desperate to get him to talk so that she would not have to. ‘Did you fly to Norway?’ The Germans were winning the first land battle of the war there.

‘No, thank God. It’s a disaster. There’s a big debate in the House of Commons tonight.’ He began to talk about the mistakes the British and French commanders had made.

When supper was ready, Boy went down to the cellar to get some wine. Daisy saw a chance to alert Lloyd. But where would he be? She looked at her wristwatch. It was half past seven. He would be having dinner in the mess. She could not walk into that room and whisper in his ear as he sat at the table with his fellow officers: it would be as good as telling everyone they were lovers. Was there some way she could get him out of there? She racked her brains, but before she could think of anything Boy returned, triumphantly carrying a bottle of 1921 Dom Pérignon. ‘The first vintage they made,’ he said. ‘Historic.’

They sat at the table and ate Maisie’s fish pie. Daisy drank a glass of the champagne but she found it difficult to eat. She pushed her food around the plate in an attempt to look normal. Boy had a second helping.

For dessert, Maisie served canned peaches with condensed milk. ‘War has been bad for British cuisine,’ Boy said.

‘Not that it was great before,’ Daisy commented, still working on seeming normal.

By now Lloyd must be in the Gardenia Suite. What would he do if she were unable to get a message to him? Would he remain there all night, waiting and hoping for her to arrive? Would he give up at midnight and return to his own bed? Or would he come down here looking for her? That might be awkward.

Boy took out a large cigar and smoked it with satisfaction, occasionally dipping the unlit end into a glass of brandy. Daisy tried to think of an excuse to leave him and go upstairs, but nothing came. What pretext could she possibly cite for visiting the trainees’ quarters at this time of night?

She still had done nothing when he put out his cigar and said: ‘Well, time for bed. Do you want to use the bathroom first?’

Not knowing what else to do, she got up and went into the bedroom. Slowly, she took off the clothes she had put on so carefully for Lloyd. She washed her face and put on her least alluring nightdress. Then she got into bed.