SEVEN

      Drew knew there were two ways to go to the mall. There was the lower east side, which was the shortest route and the one everybody usually took. That meant passing where all his old buddies hung out, who would no doubt want to know about England or ask about his mother’s funeral yesterday and he didn’t want to talk about it. Then there was the longer way round, which of course took longer.

      Although, he silently reasoned, if he took the short route he wouldn’t need to take the car his father had bought him as a bribe to keep him in the States. However, the guys would stop him for catch-ups on every corner and he didn’t need that today. His mind made up, he decided to take the Chevrolet Sedan to the mall.

      Feeling unusually unsociable because he was missing Tilly so much, Drew knew Al’s Diner was the only place he could get a burger on rye and a fresh cup of coffee without being badgered for information about his trip overseas. As the car glided to a halt outside the diner, he wanted to think about the wonderful girl he’d left in London.

      Sitting on the high stool at the counter waiting for his order he settled, once more, into the familiar smell of hot percolated coffee and fresh doughnuts that had been absent in England. But it was Tilly, so keenly missed, that he wanted right now.

      He wondered how long it would take for her mail to reach here, knowing he couldn’t go much longer without hearing from her. His mind was in turmoil. What if she got hurt – or worse? A pony-tailed girl in bobby socks, carrying school text books, sat next to him and smiled. Drew, not having the heart to ignore her, smiled back, but heck, he wasn’t in the mood for talking right now.

      ‘Say, didn’t you used to live in England?’ she asked and Drew nodded. ‘My brother’s over there,’ she continued in a forthright way, ‘he’s in Liverpool – have you heard of it?’

      ‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’ Drew said, shrugging his shoulders. He was glad when her girlfriends came into the diner drooling over the latest Frank Sinatra photo in a magazine. Drew sighed with relief.

      His father had used every trick in the book, Drew knew, short of actually having him arrested to keep him here. But he was determined when he’d finished the latest harebrained assignment his father set for him he was going back to Tilly. His wonderful mother was gone now, so what did he have to stay here for?

      His thoughts drifted back to London and girls no older than the ones in the booth across the shiny blue-and-yellow tiled floor sharing a soda, who would be working in munitions factories or driving buses. They would be on fire-watch duty like his Tilly, or manning ack-ack guns like the girls in the Forces, dressing the open, livid wounds of their brave countrymen like Sally or keeping essential services going like Agnes, brave women one and all …

      Distracted, he took a peek at the newspaper his father published. It was being read by a large truck driver sitting next to him who didn’t lift his head when he called to the waitress for eggs over easy, whilst the young girl across the floor dropped a dime in the juke box. Everything was so normal here, a million miles away from the devastation in London. He listened to the haunting melody of Glenn Miller’s ‘At Last’ fade to be replaced by the whirr and click of another record dropping on the Wurlitzer juke box, with its flashing lights and glass-domed top.

      Drew managed to sit at the diner counter only long enough for the beautifully melodious tones of Vera Lynn’s voice to tell him there’d be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover, which caused a restriction so tight in his throat he could hardly swallow. The last time he’d heard that song he and Tilly were dancing together, making plans for their future. It was all too much and he couldn’t take any more.

      ‘Skip the order,’ Drew managed to say to the waitress behind the counter who didn’t bat an eyelash at his request as they would have done in England, he noticed, for the simple reason that rationing hadn’t hit here. Maybe it never would, he thought, who knew?

      All he did know was that there was no shortage of food and drink at his mother’s funeral, which had been like a who’s who of his father’s shallow supporters. All of them in the business of lightening his load if he wished to avail himself of their services, all of them his ‘yes’ men.

      Listen to yourself. Drew angrily crossed the sidewalk to the Sedan. You’re already beginning to sound like one of Dad’s people, who use ten words where two will do.

      ‘Oh, Tilly, I gotta get outta here!’ Drew said aloud, ignoring the suspicious stares of people passing by. ‘Oh, honey, why do we have to live so far apart?’ He was so deep in thought he didn’t even see the truck coming, nor hear the screams of the women who tried to grab his arm to stop him walking into the road. He didn’t feel a thing.