The Dressmakers of London

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Such excitement fizzed in Izzie’s stomach that she could almost forget about the unopened letter from Sylvia tucked into her tunic pocket. It was five o’clock on Friday, and Jack was waiting for her. Jack, who’d told her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and whose last letter had mentioned first kisses.

She spotted him leaning against a post just outside the gate of her base, and when they locked eyes he pushed off of it with a grin, stooping to pick up the long strap of a khaki bag that was sitting on the ground next to him.

“Hello,” she said as she approached.

“Hello to you. Aren’t you just the prettiest girl in the world?” he asked.

She blushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He reached up to touch a lock of her light brown hair and then let his hand drop to his side. “I’m just saying exactly what I see.”

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

“You weren’t worried I wouldn’t show up, were you?” he asked with a sweet smile.

The truth was, yes. Despite their evening of dancing and all of his letters telling her how much he wanted to see her, a part of her hadn’t quite believed that he was really real.

She’d driven Alexandra and the other girls of her unit crazy asking, “What if he changed his mind?” and, “What if Friday comes and he’s forgotten all about me?”

Each time, someone would put their arm around her and reassure her that Jack would be there, just as he’d promised, and now here he was.

He tapped the bag that hung off his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of rustling up some provisions for us. Shall we?”

She took his offered arm and they set off together, a breeze lifting her hair.

“Tell me, how is life in the balloon unit?” he asked.

“Much the same as it always is. We take the balloon out, we put it up, we bring it down, we repair it,” she said.

“Why do I suspect there’s more to it than that?” he asked with a laugh.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “We trained for weeks before we were transferred here. I now know more about meteorology than I ever thought I would.”

“?‘We’ is all of the girls I met at the dance?” he asked.

“And a woman named Nancy. She was a little… preoccupied.”

“What’s the name of this preoccupation?” he asked.

“Flying Officer Charles Gardner,” she said.

“Lucky man,” he said with a grin.

“They’re both smitten, although Nancy’s not one to admit it. She’s a bit stuffy, but she’s one of us, so we put up with it,” she said with affection for her fellow balloon girl.

“And what about you, Isabelle Shelton? Has anyone caught your eye?” he teased.

She slid a look over to him. “Maybe.”

He gave her arm a gentle tug. “Maybe? Sounds like that ‘maybe’ will have to try a lot harder. I hope you don’t mind walking a bit.”

“Not at all.”

They turned off the road and onto a public footpath through the trees. Izzie had never realized how wooded Norfolk could be until she arrived at RAF Horsham St Faith, but she and Molly had taken several walks among the trees not far from base, two London girls marveling at how green and peaceful everything was.

Up ahead, the dirt path opened out into a clearing of trees and ferns, leaves padding the forest floor.

Jack took off his cap, and rubbed the back of his neck. “It isn’t much, but I found this spot the other day and thought it would be the perfect place to have a picnic with a pretty girl.”

She looked around, charmed by the idea. However, when she didn’t respond immediately, he hurried to say, “This was a silly idea. You don’t want to sit on the ground and eat. You probably want to go to a restaurant or go dancing or—”

“Jack, it’s perfect.”

His easy smile slid back onto his face. “All right then.”

He spread a blanket she suspected was regulation and began to unpack his bag as she arranged herself on it. Her eyes went wide as he pulled out all manner of things.

When he caught her stare, he said, “My mother doesn’t trust that the USAAF will feed me properly, so she sent me a care package stuffed to the brim.”

“You can’t share this with me,” she said, picking up a bit of cheddar cheese. Her mouth was already watering at the abundance of it.

“Sure I can.”

“But this is more than my entire week’s cheese ration was before I became a WAAF,” she protested.

He placed a hand on hers to still her. “Izzie, there is no one else I would rather share Mom’s care package with. Trust me. Now sit yourself down there and let me spoil you with a little American hospitality.”

She sank down on crossed legs to the spot he indicated on the blanket and watched him unpack the rest of his treasures from his bag before sitting across from her. Then he took out a penknife to slice up the cheese and a couple of apples, she watched his long fingers move with self-assurance, and when he caught her studying him he shot her a grin that made her go warm all over.

As they ate, they talked, and Izzie could feel herself loosen up. She liked this man. She enjoyed his easy company and the way he looked right at her with a little sparkle in his eyes when she spoke. He leaned back on his elbows, giving her a chance to study his face. He had a good, strong jaw and eyes that flashed and sparkled with amusement as he talked. When he listened, he would tilt his head a little, as though not wanting to miss a single thing she said.

When all that was left of their picnic was crumbs, Jack pulled out a candy bar of a brand she didn’t recognize. “Here,” he said, breaking it in half and handing it to her.

“I can’t eat half of your chocolate,” she protested.

“I thought we sorted this out already?” he asked.

She laughed and took the treat. When she broke a small square off and took a delicate bite, the richness of it burst in her mouth and she had to stop herself from moaning.

“I had forgotten how good that tastes,” she said.

“I thought you could get chocolate on the ration here,” he said.

She made a face. “You can, but it’s not the same as it used to be. Cadbury’s stopped making Dairy Milk last year because the government told the company there would be no more using fresh milk. Now it’s skimmed milk powder.”

Jack pulled a face of his own. “Sounds about as good as a D-ration bar.”

“What’s a D-ration bar?” she asked.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” he said, taking another bite of chocolate. “Have a bit more. Come on.”

She smiled at his teasing encouragement and took another sinful bite.

“That’s more like it. I can almost imagine you as a little girl, saving up your chocolate squares for a rainy day,” he said.

“Oh, no. I wasn’t like that at all. That was Sylvia. I was always the first to finish my sweets.”

“Are all sisters such opposites?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What did you decide in the end?”

“Hmm?”

“About your sister. Did you write to her?” he asked.

Her thoughts immediately flashed to the letter in her tunic pocket.

“She wrote to me again, actually. Lottie from my unit brought us the post just as I was leaving to meet you. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Do you want to?” When she hesitated, he said, “Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can… can I read it to you?” she asked, unbuttoning the flap on her pocket and pulling the letter out.

His eyes softened. “Of course you can.”

She tore open the flap and pulled out the letter, her sister’s handwriting sending a fluttering through her stomach.

“?‘Dear Izzie,’?” she started to read out loud. “?‘I have some news that I hope you will find as exciting as I do. Last week, I suggested that the War Widows’ Fund host a fundraiser for the war effort featuring local dressmakers, and I was gratified that our committee chair, Lady Nolan, was delighted by the idea.

“?‘Obviously, I will include Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions in the list, but I wanted to ask your opinion about other dressmakers that you admire. I trust your taste implicitly.’?”

“As she should,” muttered Jack loyally.

She shot him a little smile and then continued, “?‘I know that you are probably tired of me saying this, but I wish that you’d let me include one of your designs. You are so talented, and people should know that.’

“Then she sends some news from the neighborhood and that’s it.”

She stared at the letter for a long moment before Jack gently asked, “What do you think?”

“The fashion show is a good idea. It will be good for business,” she said, fumbling to return the letter to its envelope.

Jack reached out to still her hand. “Izzie, that’s not what I meant. Your sister seems to think you have a real talent for designing.”

“She just feels guilty,” she said, explaining what had happened when she’d gone to London on leave. He listened politely, his head slightly tilted as he took it all in, and when she was done he nodded.

“I understand why you were offended by what Sylvia did, but, Izzie, it sounds like she could really use your designs.”

She closed her eyes. “She’s wrong. Mum always made that clear.” And that was the blunt truth of it that she couldn’t escape.

“Did your mother say that to you?” he asked.

She sighed. “Not in so many words, but it was obvious. She was always telling me that I was being unreasonable. That what I was sketching was all wrong for our clients.”

“You know,” Jack started slowly, “when my brother went away to college, I missed him something fierce—we all did—but I think, more than anything else, I was jealous of him. Families tell each other all sorts of stories about one another until it feels like they must be true. In our family, Louis was the smart one. He was the athlete, the scholar, the golden boy. He was going places.

“I was the talker of the family—a ‘charmer’ Mom calls me. Dad never thought much of that. All through school, I would bring home my report card with straight Cs and he would just shake his head and ask why I couldn’t be more like my brother. I thought that, since I was never going to have the book smarts to make him proud, I’d turn myself into the best football player in Iowa.” He laughed. “That didn’t exactly come naturally either. I had to work at it in a way that Louis never did.

“As far I knew, the only thing I was good at was talking to people. They’d tell me things that they swore up and down they’d never told another soul, and I’d try to help them with whatever problems they had.”

“That’s a rare thing,” said Izzie.

“Thank you. I know that now, but I never really thought it was useful until I started working for Dad selling harvesters and tractors. Then, he started to say, ‘That boy could sell sawdust to a lumber mill.’ It wasn’t much, but, finally, Dad thought I was good at something, even if he still didn’t trust me to help decide what new equipment we should offer or how we should reinvest into the business.

“Then Dad died and Louis came back. I started to make those decisions that Dad always told me I didn’t have the head for without even realizing it. Advertising, marketing, research—it turns out I’m good at all of it.

“I’m rambling on,” he said, shooting her a sheepish smile. “I do know that the one thing I learned was that I didn’t have to be the man my father thought I was. I could be more than that.”

She felt something warm slide down her cheek, and when she lifted her fingers to touch it, she realized it was a tear.

“You think I should let my sister use my sketches,” she whispered.

“I think it sounds like your mom loved you very much and wanted what she thought was the best for you, but sometimes you need to decide what that is for yourself,” he said.

Something twisted in her gut. She respected Mum and everything she’d done with the shop so much, but she couldn’t deny that for years there had been little voices whispering to her, urging her to rebel. As she’d grown older, she’d found it harder to understand why Mum was so resistant to change.

Why weren’t her designs right for Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions?

Why couldn’t they court a newer, younger customer?

Why was change so frightening?

Why continue to say no when Sylvia so clearly wanted to try something—anything—different?

“I’ve been angry at my sister for so long,” she said. “I don’t know if I can say yes.”

Jack smiled. “Do you get called stubborn much?”

She gave a watery laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, Jack. Maybe a little. Sylvia keeps writing to me even though I haven’t really written her back properly in weeks.”

“Sounds like stubbornness is a family trait,” he said. “You know what I realized when Louis came back? I had something that he never would: memories of Mom and Dad and life in Newton that were all mine. I’d resented him for so long, I didn’t think I even considered that Louis might have regrets about everything he missed out on.”

He grasped her hands in his. “I’m not a perfect man by any means, but I can tell you I became a lot happier when I decided to stop being angry with Louis. I don’t pretend to know all of the intricacies of what’s happened between you and your sister, but you strike me as the sort of woman who would have the grace to forgive when forgiveness is earned.”

For the first time in her life, she wanted to be the woman he described. The one who could leave things in the past, who could give second chances and let go of grudges.

“Izzie,” he said softly, his thumbs stroking over the tops of her hands, “you never answered my question about where you had your first kiss.”

Her heart skipped. “The back of a cinema in Maida Vale. I was sixteen. It wasn’t very good.”

“I think we can do better than that, can’t we?” he murmured.

He closed the gap between them. His right hand slipped around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. He eased her head back a little, and she lifted her lips to him as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be kissed by an American staff sergeant in a forest clearing.

When he lowered his lips to hers, her eyes fluttered shut and she thought for a moment that her body would give way from the heat and spark and swoon of being kissed by Staff Sergeant Jack Perry. She leaned into their kiss, deepening it.

When, finally, he pulled back, he wore a rueful smile, his hair sticking up where her fingers had mussed it.

“I could do that all day, but somehow I suspect you have a very stern commanding officer who would disapprove.”

“Corporal Richardson. She’s not so bad really, but you’re right. She is expecting me back on base as some point,” she said with regret, patting down her own hair.

“Here,” he said, pulling a comb out of his uniform pocket.

“Thank you,” she said.

As she wrestled her curls back into place, he asked, “May I see you again?”

“Yes! Yes, I would like that very much.”

She handed him back his comb and watched him tame his sandy hair back into place before starting to pack up their picnic. As they folded the blanket, they agreed that they would write to one another and fix a date when both of them were granted passes off their base. Then he stood up and helped her to her feet.

As Jack tucked the blanket away, Izzie looked around, memorizing every detail of the clearing. It might not be where she had her first kiss, but it was where she’d had her best one.