Jo White- Woman at War

Chapter Two

"I was thinking we should go to the dance tonight," I say to the room, untying the knot behind my back, "What do you think?" I ask, turning to see her slumped on the dining chair her eyes darting amongst the cluster of letters. "I think it would be good for us," I say, careful of my words, keeping my tone light and unacknowledging of the clear emotional moment.

"Yes, alright then," she agrees, fingertips still tracing stained letters.

"Good," I smile, "I'll go and get ready," moving around her to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, her eyes still not tearing from the pile of letters. I hold my sigh until my face plucks itself away from her cheek and dashes upstairs, unpinning my hair from its tight coil as I went. I prop open the wardrobe door reaching for the softer, more elegant fabrics at the back that were reserved for the fortnightly dances. I opt for a green silk gown that father had given me for my 18th birthday just three days before he was recruited and shipped off to maintain military aircrafts in Farnborough.

I slip into it, exchanging tight ringlets for a softer looser curl that I twist up into a ponytail and stiff white gowns for silky dresses paired with small black heels that were chipped and scuffed from fumbled dancing. With the fabric feeling light against my skin, I slide a light gloss over my lips and clasp the one necklace I owned around my neck, already feeling guilty I was nervous about dancing with the new doctor. "Come on, Jo," I murmur to myself, tapping my own chest to steady my restless heart, "Stop being stupid,"

"Are you ready?" I ask, my fingers rapping on the door as I pull a mint imperial out of my bag, "Mother," I ask, knocking again impatiently, "We really need to get going unless we want to be late,"

"I'm not going," she says, opening the door to her in her usual day dress and tired eyes.

"Why not?" I ask, but not entirely surprised.

"I don't have the energy," she dismisses, closing the door at the half a breath I was going to reply to her with. I clasp my bag shut muttering my frustrations to the gravel beneath my feet as I traipse my way to the village hall, which was adorned with lanterns and song.

"Here's my Lady," a familiar voice whistles as I approached the building, standing awkwardly with his usual limp was Benny.

"Here's my Lord," I reply, taking his arm, inhaling the faint scent of burnt metal masqueraded by cheap cologne, the smell a gift from his father's job as a blacksmith. "You look a little dog eared, tonight," I comment, observing him and turning him so I could fix his lopsided tie.

"Well, there's no one here to impress," he comments, shrugging his shoulders as his itches at his collar.

"I thought I was your Lady," I state, pulling his tie through my own neater loop and looking into his mischievous dark eyes.

"You are, not a princess or a queen though," he remarks, to which I smack him on his arm with the back of my bag.

"Don't be a pig, Benny. I've invited someone here tonight so-"

"Ohh, your own Prince," he says, eyebrows raising as we walk together.

"No," I smile, "He's the new doctor,"

"Christ, some old bore," he moans, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

"He's in his twenties," I defend, "Or I presume so anyway," I add, shaking my head. Benny loops my arm through his again and duck our heads under the overhanging lights draped onto the neglected trees.

"Urgh, these dances are meant to be our nights," he groans, stomping his foot.

"You sound like a jealous child," I comment, nodding to a few people I recognised as we make our way to the edge of the hall. "And anyway, we hardly dance anymore,"