The girl eyed her for a moment longer. “Kitty. Kitty Bloom.” She slid her hand from her jacket pocket. Her grip was hard, like a man’s. “You’re American?”
Martha nodded. Her free hand went to her head, her fingers tucking a windblown wisp of hair back under her beret. The uncertainty in the girl’s voice had made her feel self-conscious. Probably the only American women this girl had seen were Hollywood stars.
“From New York?” Kitty’s accent wasn’t like the English voices Martha had heard in movies. She made “York” sound more like “Yark.”
“Yes. But I grew up in Louisiana.”
From the look on her face, Kitty had never heard of it.
“How about you?”
“Manchester.”
Martha nodded. She had only a vague idea of the geography of England. “Is that far from here?”
“Far enough,” the girl replied. “It took all night to get here. Everything’s slower than it used to be because of the bombs they dropped on the rail tracks.”
“Was your town bombed?”
Kitty nodded.
“That must have been terrifying.”
A slight tightening of the lips was the only response to this. Martha wondered how old Kitty would have been when the war started. It would be tactless to ask. She remembered how it felt to be taken for someone younger than your actual age: if it happened now, she’d be flattered, but back then, it had made her mad.
“Are you hungry?” Kitty cocked her head at the white-railed staircase that led below deck. “There’s a place you can buy sandwiches.”
Martha followed her down the metal steps. It had been many hours since she’d last eaten. The ordeal of flying had robbed her of her appetite—and now the motion of the waves was making her feel queasy again. But perhaps it would do her good to try to eat something.
She changed her mind when she saw what was being offered. The bread was a grayish color, and there were only two fillings to choose from: Spam or fish paste. The only other food for sale was packets of something called Rich Tea.
“What are these?” Martha picked one up, peering at the tiny writing on the back.
“Biscuits,” Kitty replied.
“Do they come with gravy?”
Kitty gave her a blank look. “Gravy? With biscuits?”
“I think they’re cookies.” Martha recognized the voice of the man from the truck. He was standing in line, a couple of places behind her.
“Ah!” She nodded, feeling foolish.
“They’re quite nice if you dunk them in tea,” Kitty said. She was smiling, and it transformed her face. She had the most unusual eyes—pale gray irises that were almost lilac, with an outer ring of charcoal.
Martha felt even more idiotic when she came to pay for the tea and cookies. The woman behind the counter frowned at the dollar bill she proffered. It hadn’t occurred to Martha that she might need British money. The only foreign currency she had in her purse was German reichsmarks.
Kitty pulled coins from her pocket, counting what she had left, when the familiar voice behind them said: “Let me get that.”
“Thank you,” Martha said when he came over to their table, carrying a plate piled with sandwiches. “I can pay you back in German money if that’s okay?”
He waved the offer away. “You hold on to your money—you’re gonna need it. The pay’s not much to write home about, is it?”
“Well, thank you.” It was true. They were getting food and accommodations plus four dollars a week. But she hadn’t taken the job for the money.
He sat down, smiling at Martha. “Now,” he said, “I know a little about you—but what about this young lady?” He turned appraising eyes on Kitty. “Why did you join this outfit?”
“I could ask you the same question.” She looked defensive.
“Oh?” He grunted. “Well, I guess I was frustrated at being stuck across the pond. Too old to fight the Nazis. But not too ancient to help clear up the mess they’ve left behind.”
Kitty’s expression softened a little. “I’ve been working in a factory, sewing uniforms. I tried joining the Wrens, but they only wanted typists. They wouldn’t let women go to fight.”
“Well, you’ll be in the thick of it soon,” he said. “You won’t be fighting, but you’d better be ready for some grim sights.” He bit into a sandwich and swallowed it down. “Do you know where you’re headed?”