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Chapter 1:- Act One: Scene One
"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood I know I could, always be good, To one who watched over me."
George & Ira Gershwin, Someone to Watch Over Me
Tasha rested her chin on her hands and gave a little sigh. Her gorgeous cousin Norma paused in the act of powdering her nose to send a quizzical look her way. "What's wrong, lamb?" "Why am I going to this dance?" Tasha asked, sounding as plaintive as a lamb looking for its mother.
"I should be catching up on my sleep." Norma gave a tiny shake of her head, causing her cascading blond curls to ripple. Violet blue eyes gazed at Natalie with more intelligence than most people gave her credit for, and her perfect bow lips puckered in a frown.
"You are going to the dance because you've been living like a hermit ever since you moved down from London. For all I know, you lived like a hermit there too. You're going because with the poor weather lately, there will be at least three fly-boys for every girl."
"And my three will be looking at you, not me."
"And as soon as they find out I'm taken, they'll move on. Bernie will make sure of it."
Norma was right about that. Lt Bernard Schwartz wouldn't put up with anyone horning in on his territory, but Natalie suspected that the USAF pilot enjoyed knowing that his girl attracted every man who came within a forty mile radius of Saint-Simon-on-the-Downs. Similarly, her cousin enjoyed watching Bernie charm the ladies, but she'd make it clear that he was her man. Not that it mattered. No one was going to notice mousy little Tasha Wood when the long-legged, full-figured Norma Baker was in the room.
Maybe the dance wouldn't be so bad, she thought, applying a little lipstick now that her cousin had abandoned the mirror. Saint Simon-on-the-Downs was a small village surrounded airfields and observation posts. Everyone knew everyone. Besides, since joining the Observer Corps, Tasha had finally made some of her own friends – they weren’t all hand-me-downs from her cousin, unlike the too-tight, dress she was wearing.
“You know,” Norma said, giving her a critical once over, “That dress looks better on you than I expected. You just need a little powder and a brighter lipstick. Bernie’s got a friend he wants you to meet – says you’re made for each other.”
That’s it, Tasha thought. The dance will be hell.
"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood I know I could, always be good, To one who watched over me."
George & Ira Gershwin, Someone to Watch Over Me
Tasha rested her chin on her hands and gave a little sigh. Her gorgeous cousin Norma paused in the act of powdering her nose to send a quizzical look her way. "What's wrong, lamb?" "Why am I going to this dance?" Tasha asked, sounding as plaintive as a lamb looking for its mother.
"I should be catching up on my sleep." Norma gave a tiny shake of her head, causing her cascading blond curls to ripple. Violet blue eyes gazed at Natalie with more intelligence than most people gave her credit for, and her perfect bow lips puckered in a frown.
"You are going to the dance because you've been living like a hermit ever since you moved down from London. For all I know, you lived like a hermit there too. You're going because with the poor weather lately, there will be at least three fly-boys for every girl."
"And my three will be looking at you, not me."
"And as soon as they find out I'm taken, they'll move on. Bernie will make sure of it."
Norma was right about that. Lt Bernard Schwartz wouldn't put up with anyone horning in on his territory, but Natalie suspected that the USAF pilot enjoyed knowing that his girl attracted every man who came within a forty mile radius of Saint-Simon-on-the-Downs. Similarly, her cousin enjoyed watching Bernie charm the ladies, but she'd make it clear that he was her man. Not that it mattered. No one was going to notice mousy little Tasha Wood when the long-legged, full-figured Norma Baker was in the room.
Maybe the dance wouldn't be so bad, she thought, applying a little lipstick now that her cousin had abandoned the mirror. Saint Simon-on-the-Downs was a small village surrounded airfields and observation posts. Everyone knew everyone. Besides, since joining the Observer Corps, Tasha had finally made some of her own friends – they weren’t all hand-me-downs from her cousin, unlike the too-tight, dress she was wearing.
“You know,” Norma said, giving her a critical once over, “That dress looks better on you than I expected. You just need a little powder and a brighter lipstick. Bernie’s got a friend he wants you to meet – says you’re made for each other.”
That’s it, Tasha thought. The dance will be hell.
