Applause (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 2) by Madalyn Morgan (best authors to read txt) 📕

‘I spoke to Natalie today and she said there’s such a shortage of timber and other building materials that the reopening of the theatre has had to be postponed until the end of April. Oh Bill,’ she went on, ‘you don’t really mind, do you? I mean, it’s only for a few weeks and George and Betsy are desperate for me to join them.’ Margot whipped Bill’s plate away the second he put down his knife and fork. ‘I’m going to pack,’ she said, putting the dishes in the kitchen sink with a clatter. ‘I’ll wash up later.’ Bill opened his mouth to speak, but Margot didn’t give him a chance. Dashing from the kitchen to the bedroom she stopped to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you, love. I knew you’d understand.’

Waterloo Bridge was closed. Margot heard the taxi driver curse as he pulled into the traffic. Cutting in front of the car behind, he put his foot down and drove down the Strand and along Whitehall. When Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament came into view he swung the taxi onto Westminster Bridge. A few minutes later they were at Waterloo Station.

‘We’ve got less than ten minutes, Margot,’ Bill said. He paid for the taxi and followed Margot onto the concourse. ‘I’ll get your ticket,’ he shouted. ‘You make your way to the train.’

On the platform outside a second class carriage she watched a crowd of young American airmen talking to a group of girls. Someone shouted, ‘OK men! Let’s go!’ Immediately the young men and women fell into each other’s arms, hugging and kissing, until the man barked again. ‘I said now! Next stop Southampton!’ The Americans dragged themselves away, leaving the girls on the platform consoling each other and crying. She looked up to where the orders had come from and caught the eye of a tall, fair haired airman standing in the doorway. He smiled and saluted. Margot smiled back and felt her cheeks redden. Looking away, she wondered if they would be at the ENSA concerts.

‘Margot,’ Bill called, interrupting her thoughts. He opened the door of a first class carriage, which was next to the one the Americans had filed into, and leapt in with her suitcase. He checked the ticket and then the number on the door. ‘This is it,’ he said, sliding back the door of the compartment. Margot watched as he stood her case against the seat, end-on to the window. ‘No need to put it up,’ he said, indicating the overhead rack. ‘Doesn’t look as if you’ll be sharing the compartment.’

Suddenly a whistle blew. ‘Better leave!’ Bill said, squeezing past her. At the door he kissed her passionately. ‘I’d got used to having you at home.’

Margot reached up and kissed him, Eskimo style. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ she said, and she kissed him properly.

Bill stroked her hair and looked into her eyes. ‘Take care of yourself.’

‘I will. I promise.’ The train clunked and hissed as steam was released, and Bill jumped off. He slammed the door and jogged along with the train as it slowly chugged south.

‘Don’t overwork your ankle,’ he shouted. ‘Put it up as often as you can.’

‘I will,’ Margot shouted back. She waved until Bill had disappeared in a cloud of steam. After pushing up the window she returned to the compartment, closed the door, and made herself comfortable in the seat next to the window.

While the train sped past the smoke-stained terraced houses and cobbled back yards of South London, Margot read a magazine. Once in Surrey she looked out of the window. Bright sunlight flickered through budding trees, settling on daffodils and tulips in full bloom. The sun reflected on the train’s window and she put her hand up to shade her eyes. In the distance a lake shimmered as the wind created ripples on its surface that looked like dancers under spotlights. Margot closed her eyes.

Somewhere far away, or maybe she was dreaming, she heard wood sliding against wood followed by a click, and a light breeze brushed her ankles. She opened her eyes.

‘Excuse me, Miss?’ The young officer who was in charge of the American airmen was standing in the doorway of her compartment. ‘I’m sorry to wake you, but the carriage,’ he said, pointing along the corridor, ‘that I reserved for my men and me has one too few seats. Would it be OK if I sat in here?’

‘Of course.’ She could hardly say no, sitting on her own in an empty carriage. ‘Oh, but it’s first class.’ The airman looked disappointed. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ she joked.

‘Thank you.’ The young airman took a newspaper from his kit bag, and then swung it up onto the overhead rack. Sitting down with the paper on his lap, he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘Would you like a smoke?’

‘I don’t, thank you,’ Margot said, and began to laugh.

‘What?’ Shaking his head, he started to laugh with her. ‘Come on, give?’

Still laughing, she pointed to the no smoking sign on the door. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’

‘I can wait.’ Returning the cigarettes to his pocket, the airman picked up his newspaper and Margot picked up her magazine. They sat in silence reading for some time, but as Margot had read most of the articles earlier she became bored and looked out of the window again. She watched the towns and villages of Surrey go by in the distance. With the sun warm on her face she closed her eyes, but opened them almost immediately when the train rattled into a tunnel. Startled by the sudden contrast of brightness to darkness, she jumped. Dark outside, the train’s window became a mirror and she could see the airman’s face reflected in it. He was looking at her.

‘Excuse me, Miss,’ he said, closing his newspaper and dropping