For my 52 short stories in 52 weeks, number 5 is “A story set in London.”
This is a crossover (kind of?) with The Imitation Game. Steve and Peggy go on a date! And meet Alan Turing, because why not?
About 3800 words, so watch for the cut.
Most of Steve’s missions were out in the wilds – trooping through trees, sprinting through open land to the safety of an abandoned farmhouse, hiding under piles of rotting vegetation while Nazis ambled past in the daylight, and then creeping up behind them in the night. Still, in all the darkness and the dirt, there were days that were strangely beautiful, quiet, warm and full of sunlight. Steve could sit on a rock in the sunlight and close his eyes as he if was alone in the wilderness, or could stare across the horizon and imagine that just over the hill life was normal.
It was hard to remember what ‘normal’ meant, especially on foreign soil he’d never seen in anything but turmoil. It was beautiful country, and Steve wished he had seen it under peaceful times.
He hadn’t seen a lot of big cities in Europe. He’d passed through Paris in the dark of night on the way to the USO show that changed his life again, but London was something else. Steve stood on the sidewalk and craned his neck to look around. The sun was out, the sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and across the street was a pile of rubble between two untouched houses. A group of men were shoveling out the rubble, talking as they loaded a wheelbarrow with chunks of someone’s life. A pair of women walked through the crosswalk in calf-length dresses and long coats, with little hats perched on their hair. One of them was carrying a briefcase, and the other had a tiny purse slung over her shoulder that matched her hat.
The ladies smiled at him, and Steve tipped his head in their direction. Life went on.
He crossed the street, following the directions Peggy had scribbled out for him on a scrap of paper. He turned the next corner and found a cart of bright wildflowers cattycorner to a cleared lot with fences lined in advertisements. He stopped and smiled down at the flowers – white and yellow daises, some orange flowers that he couldn’t name, pink tulips, and forget-me-nots. The old man sitting next to the boxes had a tulip pinned to his jacket lapel, and wore a faded gray flat cap.
“I’m meeting a girl,” Steve explained, gesturing to the boxes of flowers.
The old man smiled and stood up. He remained a little hunched over, but he reached confidently for the boxes and came up with a bundle of white daisies. He rolled them into a piece of newspaper and tied the bunch with piece of twine. “Daisies are the thing for young love,” he explained with a wink.
Steve laughed and dug a handful of coins out of his pocket. It was a mishmash of American, French, and English currency.
“Three pence,” the man said, and then leaned over Steve’s hand to poke through the jumble of coins. He selected a coin, showed it to Steve briefly, and then slid it into his pocket and gave Steve a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Good luck, son.”
Steve nodded, smiled, and dropped the rest of the coins in his pocket. “Thank you, sir.”
The man gave him another nod and a wave, and Steve turned to follow the rest of Peggy’s terse instructions to the restaurant. He found her already seated at a tiny round table in what looked more like someone’s living room than what Steve usually thought of as a restaurant. There were five tables crammed into the space, each one dressed with lace tablecloths, everything perfectly neat and clean, pale blue cups turned upside down on matching saucers. There was a pair of women at the table by the window, and two soldiers in British uniforms in one corner.
Peggy looked radiant in a white button-up shirt with a little blue hat perched on her curled hair. She always looked radiant, but Steve had never seen her like this, away from the drab uniforms. She had already ordered tea, and idly looked over a menu as she stirred her tea with one hand. Steve just stood in the doorway and watched her with his heart in his throat.
“Would you like to take a seat, young man?” the waitress asked him, making him jump.
Peggy looked up and gave him a bright smile. Her teeth were pearly white against her lipstick, and the smile lit up her face. She tapped the spoon against the lip of the cup and set it on the saucer, little tinktinktink noises in the neat room. Her eyes glittered in the sunlight, and she was perfect. Steve opened his mouth, made a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a squeak, and blushed bright red.
“Get over here, Captain, you’re blocking the door,” Peggy ordered.
Steve’s knees unstuck, he gave the waitress an apologetic nod, and slunk into the room. He felt big and clumsy in the small room with the tiny tables and their delicate cloths. He pulled the chair out and sat with his legs opened wide so he could scoot closer to the table and not be in the way.
“You look amazing, Peggy,” he said in a rush and then remembered the flowers, and held them out over the table. “I just saw them on the way over here, and I thought that maybe you would like them, or I don’t know. Silly.”
Peggy laughed under her breath, but she reached out to take the flowers, holding them gently in both hands. “They’re lovely, Steve, thank you.”
Steve let his breath out with a whoosh and smoothed down the back of his hair. “You’re welcome.”
“What can I get for you two?” the waitress asked, easing around Steve’s chair.
“I’ll take the air raid breakfast,” Peggy said, tapping the card set up in the middle of the table.
“Uh. Same?” Steve fumbled.
“Our train leaves in two hours,” Peggy said briskly, setting the daisies down and pulling her tea over. “Just enough time for breakfast, and the walk to the station.”
Steve cleared his throat and tried to shuffle closer to the table as woman with a small child took the table next to them. “Why are we going to this place again?”
“There are some important people that I want you to meet,” Peggy answered over the rim of her cup. She hadn’t been very forthcoming with details, just that their brief diversion to London presented a good opportunity for Steve see the other side of the coin. He’d given the Commandos two days of liberty, and they were probably still sleeping off the collective hangover from the previous night’s drinking.
Steve knew that it wasn’t really a date. It was just convenience – food on the way to an important meeting for the war effort. Steve wanted it to be a date, and it was nice to pretend that maybe things were normal, and he was in Europe for art school, and Peggy was a girl he’d met in the city, and he was taking his girl out for breakfast.
Peggy smiled at him from across the table, and let the illusion stand through breakfast, and the walk to the train station. He didn’t put his arm around her, although he wanted to, and she didn’t put her arm through his, although she walked close to his side. They walked past bombed-out buildings and once had to divert a whole block to get around a crater that stretched from one sidewalk to the opposite store front. It was surreal, and yet the people they passed walked with their heads held up, laughed, talked, and stepped over the rubble in the streets.
