Read Online Lonely Teardrops (2008) by Freda Lightfoot - Free Book Online Page A

her to the party. It was the end of September, right at the start of the war, three weeks after Stan had departed for his naval training, and she’d heard not a word since. Not that she’d expected him to write. Joyce’s foolish pride had prevented her from revealing her address, so how could he?
    All she’d done since he left was to listen to the wireless, waiting for news. If this was how she was going to be spending the months or years of war, Joyce didn’t much care for it.  
    Probably he wasn’t in the least bothered about her. If Stan Ashton wanted to see her again, or if he’d been keen for her to write to him, he would surely have said so. Obviously, their little love affair had been nothing more than a summer flirtation. She’d helped him to while away a few weeks in the sun before going off to war, that was all.
    There was tension in the air now, and anxiety, a devil-may-care attitude creeping in, and a great deal of beer being drunk as many of the boys Eileen had invited to her impromptu party were expecting to be called up any day.
    Joyce hadn’t touched a drop at first, as always afraid of losing control and making a fool of herself. People thought her quite confident because of the way she dressed and the airs and graces she gave herself to prove she wasn’t a nobody. But she was really quite unsure of herself underneath, with this great big chip on her shoulder over her background, nervous of making a mistake in this lovely home which belonged to Eileen’s parents.
    Her father was an accountant, her mother a housewife, never having needed to work outside the home, and Eileen was training to be some sort of clerk in the bank. She was dark and pretty, with a mischievous grin, and had always been top of the class although she could act like a complete scatterbrain at times. The pair of them had been friends for years. What she saw in a girl who worked on a cheese stall on Champion Street Market, Joyce couldn’t rightly say.
    Again someone offered her a drink but she refused. Even beer made her feel quite light headed. Joyce longed for a glass of orangeade or Tizer, but couldn’t find any. Not that it mattered as she was enjoying herself too much, dancing with one young man after another, laughing and joking and having such a good time she’d almost forgotten about one handsome sailor. Almost.
    ‘How is he then, lover-boy? I assume he’s written you sack-loads of passionate love letters?’ Eileen teased, coming to hook her arm in Joyce’s.
    Joyce shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. ‘I expect he’s busy.’ She’d no wish to reveal that she’d foolishly forgotten to give him her address, nor had he given her his.
    ‘Busy? Lord, not in the first weeks surely? It’s a laugh that initial training. My Bill writes to me every day. Actually he’s in France now, did I tell you? The sun is shining and he says it’s just like being on holiday.’ Eileen giggled but Joyce wasn’t amused.
    All this talk of war was very scary. People were saying that the British Army was totally unfit to fight, but Joyce didn’t believe that. The Navy would certainly be strong, if only because Stan was part of it, and she was quite certain the army would be too. In any case weren’t our boys in France behind the impregnable Maginot Line? Even so, they were facing great danger.
    ‘They could be killed or wounded any day. You really do say the most stupid things, Eileen.’
    ‘Ooh, pardon me for breathing. Who do you think you are, Miss Uppity? At least Bill writes every day. Your man, if that’s what he is, can’t even be bothered to write at all.’
    ‘And if yours is having such a good time, maybe he’s found himself a French sweetheart to keep him amused. What else will there be for him to do in this Phoney War?’
    Eileen didn’t much care for this comment, and, as on so many occasions in the past, their friendship rocked a little as a result and the argument got a bit heated after that. Then Joyce