The Very Thought of You (17 page)

The mood changed when Catherine walked onto the stage. She was wearing her long lavender-blue dress and elbow-length black gloves. She had let her dark, wavy hair hang loose onto her shoulders, and as the spotlight picked out her lovely face, there were a few wolf whistles. She nodded to Tommy and he started the introduction to her song. When she sang the first line, there was an appreciative groan as the audience recognised ‘P.S. I Love You', and Della, peeping through a gap in the curtains, saw that several of the soldiers had tears in their eyes.

‘They're like putty in her hands,' Della whispered to Frances. ‘She could sing them the telephone directory and they'd cheer.'

Cheer they did, and she followed up with ‘The Very Thought of You' and could hardly get to the end before the audience stood up and hollered.

‘You were just wonderful,' Robert murmured as Catherine walked off the stage. ‘Just wonderful.'

‘Thank you,' she replied, and caught up in the moment, allowed herself to look into his eyes. They were glistening. ‘Thank you,' she said again, and touched his hand.

The second half went just as well, although Eric refused to go on after Beau had told him what Robert had said about the authorities. ‘Who the hell does he think he is?' he said, in his own voice, and then reverting to the captain's, said, ‘Tell him to fuck off, old sport.' With that, he picked up the suitcase containing the doll and walked out of the theatre.

‘Good riddance,' said Della. ‘Please God he doesn't come back.'

The girls closed the show, singing in harmony one of their upbeat numbers. Cheers and whistles rattled the rafters of the old theatre, and afterwards, the Players gathered in the bar of the best hotel in Bayeux and relived every moment, grinning at each other and buying quantities of drink.

Beau held up his hand. ‘Listen,' he said. ‘Before you all get too hammered, remember we have a show tomorrow afternoon, at the hospital. It'll be shorter than usual, bearing in mind that some of the patients can't sit for long. I've redone the running order – Frances will show you.' He looked at Robert, who was sitting at a table with Tommy and Catherine. ‘Major Lennox has organised our transport for this trip.'

Robert stood up. ‘Yes. We'll be travelling in army trucks. It's a field hospital near to the front line, and we'll have guards riding with us.'

Della was standing by the bar with her American sergeant, who'd followed them in, and said, ‘Bloody hell, Robert. We didn't sign up for danger.'

He grinned. ‘You did, Miss Stafford. Don't you remember? Make sure you bring your tin helmet.' He looked at the rest of the company. ‘That applies to all of you. Ten thirty sharp outside the Hôtel Côte de Nacre. The army doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

‘I wonder if Eric will be with us,' Catherine said to Frances, when she joined them at their table.

‘Who knows?' Frances said. ‘Beau hasn't mentioned him.'

‘They've got some sort of thing going,' Tommy butted in. ‘Everyone knows that.'

‘Do they?' Catherine was surprised. ‘I didn't know.'

‘You saw them, in Liverpool. Beau was giving him money. I'll bet it wasn't a loan.' Tommy laughed. ‘Look,' he said, ‘I couldn't care less about Beau being a queer – God knows there's plenty of them in show business – but with Eric?'

‘Did you know?' Catherine asked Frances.

She nodded slowly. ‘I think I knew. Johnny Petersham hinted at it, years ago, but I don't believe he would go with Eric. It has to be something else.'

Robert had said nothing during the exchange and Catherine wondered why. He been one of ‘the Three Musketeers' and he must have an opinion, but when she turned to him, he suddenly stood up and asked to be excused. ‘I have to meet someone,' he said. ‘I'll see you later, or tomorrow, if you've gone home by then.' He picked up his peaked cap and turned to go and then paused. ‘Why don't you go to the officers' mess for a meal? You'd be very welcome, and I've told the stewards to look out for you. It's in the HQ building.'

‘Good idea,' said Tommy. ‘Let's round up the gang.'

‘Not me,' called Della, when Tommy went to get her. ‘Chuck and I are going to stay here and have a few more drinks.' She turned to her young GI. ‘Isn't that right?'

‘Sure thing, honey,' he grinned, and clicked his fingers to the barman.

The food at the officers' mess was much the same as they would have got at the NAAFI, but it was served on china plates on a table with a cloth. Not many officers were in, but those who were welcomed them and asked about the show.

‘I'm coming to see you tomorrow night,' said one of them, an older man with a neatly clipped moustache. ‘My chaps have told me that it's a damned fine show. Damn fine.'

He sounded a bit like Captain Fortescue and Catherine struggled to keep smiling at him. ‘I do hope we'll live up to expectations,' she said, and was startled when he slapped his hand on the table and roared, ‘I know you will, little lady.'

Frances laughed about him as they walked back to their billet. ‘I wonder if Hugo spoke like that when he was with his friends in the mess.'

Catherine linked arms. ‘Have you heard anything lately?'

‘No.' Frances shook her head. ‘Not a word. I feel we're in limbo.'

‘Like me,' said Catherine, wondering if Christopher's face was beginning to fade from her memory. ‘In limbo.'

It was an uncomfortable ride to the field hospital on a very wet day. They had been loaded into the back of a three-ton army lorry with a driver at the front who refused to slow down at corners and managed to drive over every pothole along the way. Two squaddies sat with the company under the canvas on the hard benches that ran along the inside of the truck. The soldiers were close to the open flap at the back, which allowed the mud from the road to rise up and splatter them so that they kept up a continuous barrage of grumbling and cursing. They seemed more concerned about keeping their rifles dry than getting their uniform dirty.

The pouring rain made the ride even worse, and Frances, leaning forward and looking at the wet and misty road behind them, wondered if the whole trip would be worth it. Beau had said that they would be performing in the open air, as the hospital was under canvas and there was barely any room between the beds. If the weather didn't clear up, she couldn't imagine how the show could go on.

‘Where are we?' asked Tommy. He was sitting opposite her.

Frances shrugged. ‘Somewhere in Normandy. I wasn't told exactly where we were going, but it must be behind our lines. They wouldn't put a hospital in a place that could be overrun.'

‘It's quite exciting,' Catherine said. ‘What d'you think, Della?'

‘Mm,' her friend grunted. She had her head in her hands and hadn't opened her mouth since the journey began.

‘Della?' Frances looked at her closely. ‘What's the matter?'

‘I'd say it was a hangover,' said Colin, with a grin. ‘She took a few good drams last evening.'

‘Oh, shut up,' Della groaned, and then looked up and gazed desperately around the company. ‘Has anyone got any water?'

‘Here.' Davey passed over a small green canteen.

‘God love you.' Della grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. ‘You're a saviour.'

Davey chuckled. ‘First time I've been called that.'

‘I don't believe you, darling,' she said, perking up. ‘Not with all those medals on your chest.'

The two soldiers who were sitting with them looked at each other with raised eyebrows. It was obvious that they thought these people who were wearing army uniform and whom they had to treat as officers were a pretty rum bunch. Tommy noticed the look and blushed. Of all the company, he seemed to be the one who felt the most uncomfortable among the real military.

He pulled over the wooden Bennett Players advertising board that was propped up against the wall between the cab and the back, and arranged it on top of his and Colin's knees. ‘Cards, anyone?' he said, pulling out the battered pack that went with him everywhere.

‘Good idea,' said Godfrey, and Davey moved up and said, ‘I'm in.'

‘Girls, what about you?'

‘No' – Frances shook her head – ‘you take too much money from me.'

Catherine shook her head too, and Della didn't even look up.

Tommy cocked his head to the two soldiers. ‘Poker?' he asked.

‘Better not, sir,' said one of them who had a lance corporal stripe. The other looked quite keen but didn't dare argue with his superior.

When the boys were busy with their game, Catherine looked at Della. ‘Feeling a bit better?' she asked.

‘Mm.'

She lowered her voice. ‘What time did you come back?'

Della sighed. ‘After midnight, I think. Chuck took me on a round of all the bars that were still open.' She groaned. ‘There were millions of them.'

‘Did you …?' Catherine whispered.

‘No. At least, I don't think so.'

Frances laughed. ‘He's awfully good-looking.'

Della managed a little grin. ‘He is.' She looked to see if the boys were listening before saying, ‘But there was nowhere to go.'

That set them off giggling, and Frances whispered, ‘You're quite shameless.'

‘Yes, I know.' Della took another swig of water from the canteen. ‘But it's fun.'

They arrived at the field hospital after a journey of about an hour and a half. It was in a large field, with rows of big green tents and some hastily erected Nissen huts. The paths between the tents were deep with mud, and Frances, looking out of the window, noticed that the uniformed nurses walking from one tent to another all wore army boots. Duckboards had been laid, so that trolleys could be wheeled to and from the operating theatre, or to the wards.

The lorry came to a halt in front of one of the Nissen huts and the two squaddies jumped out and unfastened the back.

‘Come on, miss,' said the lance corporal. ‘Take my hand.'

Frances shuffled over and, swinging her legs out, jumped out of the truck. ‘Thanks,' she said to the corporal, and straightening up, had a look around. Beau had arrived before them, riding in a staff car with Robert and, to Frances's surprise, Eric.

‘Look who's there,' hissed Della, nodding towards the ventriloquist, who was standing beside Beau. ‘I hoped we'd seen the back of that bugger.'

‘I thought Beau was getting rid of him,' said Catherine, joining them. ‘Robert said he must.'

‘No,' Frances corrected her. ‘He said Beau had to talk to him. Perhaps he has.'

The boys had jumped out of the truck and stood with them, eyeing Eric with annoyance. ‘Why does he get to ride comfortably in the car?' Godfrey bellowed, not caring that he could be overheard. ‘It smacks of favouritism.' The others mumbled their agreement.

‘Would you rather he was with us?' Frances asked.

Nobody had an answer to that, and they waited in the drizzle while Beau limped over to them. ‘Come on,' he said. ‘Into the hut.'

It was stuffy inside, the small windows misted up, and the metal tables and chairs, for this was the canteen, had a sheen of dampness over them, which Della looked at in disgust. ‘I'm not sitting down,' she whispered. ‘I'll get a wet arse.'

A small upright piano with an attached seat and wheels stood against one wall, and Tommy walked over to it and lifted the lid. ‘Jesus,' he whistled in dismay. ‘Is this it?'

‘Shut up,' Beau growled. ‘We're not at the Kit Kat Club now.' He would have said more, but an army doctor and a youngish-looking matron, dressed in her triangular cap and short red cape, came into the hut.

‘Welcome!' said the doctor. He was young too, with wild red hair that needed cutting and weary lines under his eyes as though he had too many days without sleep. ‘We're very much looking forward to the show, although' – he frowned and looked out of the window, to where the rain was getting heavier again – ‘I'm not sure when we'll be able to get on with it. The rain makes it impossible for us to get the patients outside right now. Maybe in an hour or so.'

‘In the meantime,' Matron spoke up, ‘how about a cup of tea, or coffee?' She smiled. ‘We've been very lucky with coffee at this camp. The locals seem to have an endless supply.'

‘What about us performing in here?' said Beau. ‘We've done our show in canteens lots of times.'

‘That would be fine for the ambulatory patients,' the doctor answered. He had a soft Irish accent, pleasant to the ear, and a manner that made Catherine think that he'd never be able to impart bad news. ‘But it's our boys confined to their beds. We couldn't get them in here – the door's too narrow – and they'd miss out.' He smiled again. ‘Sure and it's a fine soft day; the rain will go over soon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a leg to take off.' He nodded to Matron and, with a goodbye wave of his hand, went out of the door.

‘Oh my God,' muttered Della. ‘I think I'm going to be sick.'

‘No, you're not,' said Frances very firmly. ‘This is a hospital. These things go on.'

They waited in the canteen, drinking coffee and eventually, after a good deal of wiping with handkerchiefs, sitting on the chairs. Catherine leant back and looked at the tin walls of the hut and thought about the one at the country house where Captain Jaeger and Larry Best had tried to get her to remember military insignia and vehicles. They must have been mad, she decided. There was no way that she could do what they suggested, even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to.

She looked up. Robert was standing by the door, watching her. It was as if he knew what she was thinking and her cheeks coloured up and she looked away.

‘What's up?' asked Della. ‘Your face has gone pink.'