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( Chapter Three: ❛ A GIRL THEY'LL PAINT ON PLANES ❜ ) SEPTEMBER, 1943
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JACKIE HUMMED SWEETLY BENEATH HER BREATH, the so called apple tree song that her mother had sang to her when she was just a little girl. She propped her chin up on her palm, her elbow on the wooden table at their stomachs. The glorious Australian summer was approaching, and evenings were glowing warm enough for the two of them to sit outside beneath large parasols over picnic benches.
Thanks to her compliance in attending the Dug-Out that August, Virginia Gloyne was up-and-coming on the social scene, now, making more and more frequent appearances in the Melbourne hotspots, in hand with her friend, where she usually would have been at home practicing the piano or playing with the family's Shetland sheepdog, Otto. Indeed, it was a welcome change of pace, but she did not relish in it as much as Jackie did, constantly blabbering about how lovely it was to spend so much time together on the town where they usually would have been pouring over old Vogue editions or listening to Big Sister episodes on the wireless.
On the table beside them were two Australian men in military uniforms, either shooting craps or playing bridge with a deck of cards, she couldn't tell. Clearly, though, Jackie was tailoring her actions towards getting their attention, as she fanned her face and inclined her head away from them to show off her neck, a winner of Melbourne's Miss Perfect Posture in '39. She was wearing her power blue dress again, with the chiffon sleeves. Ginny could smell the Lucien Lelong perfume that lingered from just below her ears.
"I don't know why you insist on always dolling yourself up so much, Jackie," the blonde grumbled, looking rather anemic in comparison to her friend's radiant appearance and glamour appeal that day, "It's not even a given that we're going to see someone we know."
"That's exactly why I take these precautions! You never know who you'll see," Jackie shrugged, waving a dismissive hand at her friend and delving into her handbag to try and fish something out. There was no end to the amount of things that she could keep in that handbag, Ginny would realize. "We might see someone way important like John Curtin, or even Errol Flynn!"
"Pfft," Virginia snorted, shaking her head at the silly prospect of seeing a Hollywood celebrity on one of their rare days away from the switchboards. Jackie thought that if she looked really pretty one day, someone would fall to one knee and miraculously propose to her in the street. "You know full well that Errol Flynn would never so much as glance in our direction."
"Speak for yourself, Ginny!" Jackie responded prissily, retrieving the prized rouge she had been looking for in her bag and sticking her nose in the air. "I read an interview in the tabloid last week with Errol Flynn, and he said he likes adventurous girls with lots of charisma."
