When he paid her later that week, she noticed he had added a shilling more an hour to her wages. A kindness he took no thanks for, but merely reminded her of her six-month commitment. From which she would doubtless emerge with a brilliant letter of recommendation.
Viv was doing equally well at Harrods where her boss had commended her ability to help women find just the right clothes to complement them. Grace and Viv had fallen into a routine upon returning home from work, both around four in the afternoon, to meet in the kitchen for tea to discuss their day, sometimes with the company of Mrs. Weatherford when she wasn’t off running errands.
They sat together one afternoon while rain pattered at the windows, a comfortable silence between them, when Viv gave a long, unexpected sigh. “Isn’t it just driving you to distraction?”
Grace looked up from where she’d been mesmerized by the raindrops melting into one another before trickling down the windows. “Isn’t what driving me to distraction?”
Viv looked longingly outside. “The boredom.”
Grace could have laughed. She’d been anything but bored with how busy she stayed at the shop.
Viv rolled her eyes. “You’re not bored, I know, but this war has been interminable.”
“But nothing’s happening,” Grace protested. After all, there hadn’t been any more air raid sirens. Nor had there been any attacks or rationing. There were rumors, of course. But there would always be rumors and so far all had been unfounded.
“Exactly.” Viv’s eyes widened with exasperation. “I thought London would be all glitz and glam with theater tickets and late nights out dancing.”
“We could try to go to the cinema again,” Grace offered hesitantly.
Viv pinned her with a sullen stare, no doubt recalling the failure of their last attempt. The building had been black as death’s cloak, and they’d nearly fallen over several times as they tripped their way down the partition that formed something of a corridor leading to the paybox. It was so dark inside, they could scarce see the coins they counted out. Then on the way home, they’d nearly been struck by a car that was quite obviously exceeding the newly enforced speed limits.
The attempt to go to a theater had been an equal failure. They’d forgotten their gas masks, a common occurrence of late, and were turned away. While their return home had been uneventful, it had been met with a lecture from Mrs. Weatherford on the importance of gas masks and why they shouldn’t have been left in the first place.
Besides, Grace had had enough of venturing into the blackout. Between her terrible experience the first week, nearly being run down together after the cinema and all the reports of muggings and assaults in the newly darkened city, they had decided against risking going out later.
Still, Grace hated the idea of Viv being so painfully bored.
“They’ve added white paint to the curbs.” Viv smoothed the lapel on her suit, yet another new dress she’d sewn. There had been at least one every two weeks or so, not only for her, but for Grace and Mrs. Weatherford as well. “And I heard ARP wardens wear luminescent capes now.”
Grace stirred her tea, and the silt at the bottom kicked up into a small whirlpool. “Yes, and still over a thousand people have been hit by cars. It’s so dark at night, dock men are falling into the water and drowning.”
A flicker of lightning flashed outside the windows. Two months ago, they might have both jumped for fear it was a bomb. Now, they remained as they were without even a stutter to their pulses.
Viv was right; there was nothing going on with the war—or rather, as it was now being called, the bore war.
“I think…” Viv tapped a glossy red nail against the curved lip of her teacup. “I’m considering joining the ATS.”
Grace dropped her spoon where it clinked against the side of her cup. The Auxiliary Territorial Service was a women’s branch in the British Army, one that would require Viv to attend training and most likely be assigned somewhere other than London. “Why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Viv lifted a shoulder. “The women are being used as clerks and shopkeeps from what I hear. I’d be doing something similar to what I’m doing now, but at least I’d be helping end all of this.” She waved her hands in the air to imply the entirety of their current situation. “I’m ready for the war to be done, so we can go to cinemas and dances without fear of being run over on our way home. And maybe meet a handsome stranger once all the men come back from war, perhaps even go on a date. I want to stop worrying about the idea that bombs may drop or that we’ll be subject to rationing. I want life to be normal again.”