FIC: A Dream That Could Not Last 6 of 12 (Ryan/Simon, Amanda/Carly, Kimberley/Anwar, PG)

[jlh]

Author: Clio
Title: A Dream That Could Not Last Chapter 6 of 12: Pursuits of Happiness
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell, Amanda Overmyer/Carly Smithson, Kimberley Locke/Anwar Robinson
Chapter Rating: NC-17
Chapter Summary: In spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Unless you're Adolf Hitler, in which case your fancy turns more to thoughts of invading other countries.
Chapter Length: 8100 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: A Dream That Could Not Last is an AU romantic comedy set in 1939 London, when everyone knew war was on the horizon but no one was sure when or how it would arrive-which made love of all kinds that much more important. Follow a year in the life of three groups of (mostly) Americans: pilots who joined the RAF, singers and dancers in a swing music revue, and reporters for BBC Radio. As usual there will be plenty of songs along the way to set the mood.
This was a big undertaking, and needed a team. If I was the writer/director, then locumtenens was my editor, lillijulianne, musicforcylons and evil_erato my producers, dana_kujan the actually helpful studio executive; and ali_wildgoose my executive producer who kept the train on the tracks in ways so numerous I cannot list them here.

Prologue | 1: The Lady Eve | 2: Adam's Rib | 3: His Girl Friday | 4: Bringing Up Baby | 5: Stella Dallas


Chapter Six: Pursuits of Happiness

May 9, 1940

"Morning."

"Mmm.  Do we have to get up?"

"As it happens, no.  It's rather early.  But …"

"But."  Ryan grinned.

Simon leaned over and kissed him, slow and soft, and Ryan felt warm all over.  Simon was on top of him now, their legs entwined.  "Going to take care of you this morning," Simon murmured, and Ryan sank further down into the bed.

Ryan didn't consider himself a particularly effeminate man, certainly not by the standards of homosexuals. He had no desire to put on women's clothing.  He knew how to pass when he needed to. Sometimes he envied safely in-love-and-married Joel, who was so generally odd that no one much noticed his occasional girlishness. But he did have a part of himself-not the dishy, gossipy Hollywood reporter, but another side-who responded to Simon's flashes of gentlemanliness and even, dare he say it, to the working class masculinity that sometimes pushed to the surface despite the Cambridge training. He liked being driven around the countryside, being treated to dinner, the occasional romantic gifts.  And while their sex life, like the rest of their relationship, was a carefully balanced give and take, Ryan loved it when Simon just took care of him.

Simon was kissing his neck now, nuzzling his ear, and Ryan ran a hand through his thick hair, too stiff for any pomade to hold in place.  Simon's body was covered with thick, dark hair and Ryan loved the feel of it rubbing against his skin.  He started to coo and moan at Simon's touch.  Simon was sliding down his body, taking his time, hands and mouth busy.  Ryan hissed when Simon's mouth licked at his nipples, his hands firm on Ryan's flanks, keeping him from lifting off the bed.  Ryan's hands were rubbing Simon's shoulders now, and he could feel Simon's dick hard and heavy against his thigh.  He loved how Simon revved him up, got him so very hot for it. He reached on the nightstand for the Vaseline jar and slipped it into Simon's hand.

"Bold," Simon said, grinning.

"Please darling," Ryan said.  "Just take me."

Simon chuckled, as he often did when Ryan was feeling girly, but Ryan knew it turned him on, too.  Simon hated pretense, and however he might tease, he always wanted Ryan to be just what he was-it was when Ryan put on a show that Simon recoiled. Simon was pressing thick strong fingers inside him, staring him in the eye as always.  Ryan was trying not to move-Simon's other hand rested on his stomach-or hold his breath.  Simon knelt between Ryan's legs and his dick was gorgeous, almost purple.  The maleness of it was so overwhelming Ryan couldn't help but whimper.

"Almost there, sweetheart," Simon said, rubbing his cock with jelly until it shone in the morning light.  Ryan lifted his legs and Simon put them over his shoulders, then positioned his cock and slid in slowly, steadily, making Ryan hum.  A quick kiss and then he was thrusting, his eyes still on Ryan's.

"Harder, darling, please," Ryan said, and Simon complied, really giving it to him, bending him in two with the force of it.  Ryan had gone from whimpering to a sort of whiny-cooing, a high-pitched sound usually too embarrassing to make.  But he wanted to be that nancy-boy for Simon today, which was manly in its way.  Ryan's yelps and squeals blended with Simon's caveman-like grunting but it was Simon's eyes, so dark with lust, which made him shudder.  The fucking and the grinding of both of their bodies against his cock was going to be enough, but Ryan wanted to pace himself, enjoy the ride a little longer.  But Simon growled, twisting his body, and Ryan came, screaming, and he really didn't care.  It wasn't much longer before Simon was coming too, shouting with it himself.

They collapsed and untangled, breathless and sweaty, and then Simon started to chuckle.

"What?" Ryan asked, turning to him.

"I'm just-I'm just happy, I guess."

"Oh!" Ryan replied, surprised.  "I'm glad.  I mean, me too.  I mean-both!"

Simon, really laughing now, gave him a kiss.  "We should shower."

They slipped on nightshirts and emerged from Ryan's bedroom to see Joel and Cook sitting at the kitchen table in dressing gowns.  "Ryan, I know you're in love and all," Joel said, "but you could be quieter.  Cook fucked me into the mattress last night but you didn't hear me screaming about it."

"Seriously," Cook added, not looking up from his crossword.

Simon could feel himself blushing-it was annoying, really, how easily it happened, when he rarely felt ashamed.  Ryan just smirked as he poured himself a cup of coffee and put on a kettle for Simon. "Probably wasn't as good," he said.

"You could give us pointers," Joel replied.  "Since you're such an expert."

"Don't think your wife would like that much," Ryan said, "permission or no."

Joel grumbled.  "Fine."  Then he grinned almost immediately.  "Who wants eggs?" He stood and joined Ryan in the kitchen.

Cook leaned over to Simon, his eyebrows knit slightly.  "I know I'm dating a girl and fucking a man, but those two have a strange relationship, right?"

"Very weird," Simon said, and they snickered.

"Hey!" Ryan and Joel said, almost in unison.

"What?" Simon asked.

"You can't-you can't sit there and giggle with my man right in front of me, Cook."

Simon was grinning widely now. Usually he had no time for jealousy but this was delightful. "Are you warning another man away from me, Ryan?"

Ryan had his hands on his hips and the determined expression that was Simon's favorite. "Maybe I am."

"Gotta respect that," Cook said, "though McHale, I'm not sure where you have cause to-"

"Oh, no," Joel said, "that was out of loyalty to Ryan."

Ryan turned. "Really? Thanks!"

Joel patted Ryan on the shoulder. "Always looking out for you, pal."

"Well, for the record," Cook said, "Cowell's a swell fellow but not really my type. And anyway, I have my hands pretty full at the moment."

"And how are things going with Miss Clarkson?" Simon asked.

"Brother, she is the definition of hot and cold.  I took her out last night and she was all laughs, it was fantastic.  And then I had to make a phone call, and when I came back she wasn't having it.  I barely got a kiss."

Ryan, who was at the oven making toast, asked, "Phone call?"

"Yeah, had to call in.  We've got these three days now so the Brits can have the weekend, and we need to check in-you never know."

"Ah," Simon said.  "That's right, it's a bank holiday weekend.  We should go to the country."

"Yes, and small David has off school so we should bring him along if he doesn't have plans," Ryan replied.  "How is he doing, anyway?  Flying, I mean."

"He's a natural," Cook said.  "Focused, takes direction well, good instincts.  Whichever air force he decides to join will be lucky to have him."

Joel and Ryan brought plates of fried eggs and toast back to the table, and a cup of tea for Simon.  Joel sat, crossing his legs before draping a napkin across his lap.  Cook looked down at Joel's foot and said, "Those nails need a touch-up."

Simon leaned over to Ryan and stage-whispered, "How can they be queerer than we are?"

Cook and Joel both protested, but Ryan just laughed.

Kimberley Locke, escorted by Pilot-Officer Robinson, handsome in his more casual leather jacket, blinked in the late morning sunshine as she emerged from the Leicester Square Tube station.  "This way," she said, pointing down Charing Cross Road.

"Stores?" Robinson asked.

Kim grinned up at him.  "Not any stores," she said.  "Second-hand bookstores."

"Miss Locke, you have discovered my weakness," Robinson replied.  "Lead the way."

After the first two stores, Kim learned that despite all the fiction they'd been reading together, Robinson gravitated to the engineering section of the store, poring through books on aviation.  She imagined him tinkering around in a little workshop on his off hours.  She unearthed copies of mysteries she hadn't yet read, and between the two of them they bought so many books even Robinson couldn't carry them, so Kim arranged to have them delivered to the house, and agreed to keep some of them for Robinson, and send them out to him as needed.  They didn't make it to all of the stores along the road, but they did cover most of them before they were exhausted, and wandered into a pub for lunch.

"So," Kim said, "we're alone now, and I know you've read them-you sent a very mysterious postcard!"

Robinson smiled.  "You're bursting at the seams to talk about this."

"No shame in that!  So tell me," Kim said, leaning in closer, "what did you think of Mr. Darcy?"

Robinson twisted his mouth into a rueful smile.  "I loved him. And you were right that he changed for himself, but I think he did it for her, too, a little bit."

"I'll take that," Kim said.

"Reading it again now that I'm older, I definitely had a different reaction, especially to Mr. Bennett."

"Why?" she asked.

"Well, I know he understands Lizzie and all, but I can't help but think that he encouraged her impulses, you know, to judge people."

"I hadn't thought of that," Kim said.

"And he wasn't the sort of father I'd want to be."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't provide very well, did he?  So the girls had to step in where he had failed, and he didn't even seem guilty about that.  I would be ashamed of myself, Miss Locke, if my children had to support me before my old age."

The food came then, giving Kim time to think.  It wasn't that he was critiquing the book, but Mr. Bennett had always been a favorite of hers.  At times she'd wished that her own father had been so interested in her intellect, but he'd always provided for them, and he had the same strong moral code she sensed in Robinson.  "He did have that moment, after Lydia was married."

"Yes, but only the one."

"And what did you think of Lizzie herself?" Kim asked, as casually as she could.

Robinson's eyes twinkled.  "Of course I liked her.  I enjoy spending time with you, don't I?"

Kim blushed.  "So you think I'm like her?"

"I knew you'd like that," he replied.  "I do, but maybe not as much as you think so."

"No?"

"You remind me more of another character," he said.

"In that book?" she asked.  Horrors, was she like Mary?  She certainly wasn't Jane.

He shook his head.  "Now that I've read all the novels again-and thank you for sending me that omnibus-I realized you're more like one of the other heroines."

Kim set down her fork.  "Are you going to tell me?"

"I don't think that's wise, at least right now," he said.

Kim scowled.  "Well at least tell me I'm not Fanny."

Robinson laughed.  "Of course not!  Nor Emma; I'm not interested in lecturing you."

Kim was a little surprised at Robinson comparing himself to Knightley, but let it pass.  "So, Elinor, Anne, or Catherine."

"Don't forget Marianne," he replied.

"I'm not like Marianne!" she protested.  "Kat is like Marianne."

"True, but Daughtry isn't Willoughby," he said firmly.

She smiled at his loyalty to his buddy.  "No, he's her Colonel Brandon, and she's smart enough to know it."  She waited and then said, "You're really not going to tell me?"

"Nope."

"I could hold your books hostage."

"You could," he agreed, "but you won't."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?" she asked.

"No, only stubborn.  Is infuriating better than stubborn?" he asked.  He looked over at the menu, written on a chalkboard on one side of the room.  "No pie," he said.  "Should we have rhubarb crumble or treacle pudding?"

If it had been a movie, Kim thought, she would make some clever remark of disgust, perhaps throw down her napkin in frustration.  But it wasn't a movie, and actually, the whole thing was sort of funny, even if the joke was on her.  "Treacle pudding, I think," she said.

Burnshaw was warm and sunny-almost unseasonably warm for mid-May in England.  Great day for a ride, though, and straight after lunch Amanda and Carly donned boots and jodhpurs and took two horses out for a good run through the grounds.  Chris's grandparents were in London for the week-something about a special session in Parliament-so the four had the estate to themselves for the three-day furlough.  (Except for the staff, of course.)  Amanda had wondered if they had to dress for dinner given the absence of the Duke and Duchess but Carly wanted to see Amanda in a pretty dress, so they did, and then set up the gramophone in the ball room and danced all together, music and laughter echoing in the mostly-empty space.

Carly was riding ahead of Amanda, giving her an excellent ogling opportunity.  She had quite a good seat-probably better than Amanda's, for all her lessons.  It was so warm they hadn't bothered with jackets, and Carly's blouse fit her perfectly, curving into her waist and flaring out around her breasts.  And the jodhpurs-if Carly were a less experienced rider, leaning forward in the saddle, Amanda would probably have been too distracted to control her own horse.  Though between the view and the heat and the feel of the animal under her, she was barely withstanding temptation as it was.

Carly slowed until the horses were walking next to each other.  "I could do with a rest and some shade," she said.  Amanda's eyes dropped for a second, looking down Carly's slightly unbuttoned blouse, before meeting Carly's.  But the moment wasn't lost on Carly, and she shook her head with the same kind of affectionate reproof Amanda often inspired in Chris.

"Over here," Amanda said, pointing the way to a glade near the brook that ran through part of the grounds.  They led the horses to the water and sat down in the moss at the base of a large tree, the partial shade a relief from the hot sun.  Amanda took out her pocket watch.

"How long have we been out?" Carly asked.

"Two hours," Amanda replied.

Carly leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes.  Pretty girl Amanda thought, and leaned in for a kiss, but Carly's eyes flew open.

"Did you bring me here to take advantage of me?" she asked.

"Maybe," Amanda said.

"Just checking," Carly replied, smiling, and then they were kissing, falling sideways on the mossy ground.  Hands slid into shirts, releasing one more button for easier access.  Carly shuddered a little at Amanda's touch-she often did, as her round, firm breasts were a little sensitive, but Amanda couldn't keep her hands off them.  Carly was gasping into Amanda's mouth, writhing on the ground but still going further, unfastening Amanda's belt and untucking her shirt.  But while Amanda often went directly to her object, Carly took her time-just now she was stroking Amanda's stomach-and it drove her insane.

"C'mon, baby," Amanda said.  She leaned down, pushing Carly's shirt down and reaching inside to pull the nipple to her lips.  Carly's skin was warm, salty with sweat, smelled of gardenia perfume, and it was a heady thing.

Carly was on her back now, hair fanned out across the dirt and grass at the base of the tree.  She pulled Amanda's hair from its sleek ponytail and it fell in chestnut waves around her face.  "What do you want?" Carly asked.

Amanda looked down, grinning.  She moved her hand down, cupping Carly's quim through the tight fabric of her jodhpurs.  "This," she said, sliding up for another kiss.  She buried her other hand in Carly's hair, loving the thickness of it, cupping her skull in her palm.

Carly, for her part, was holding fast to Amanda's bicep as she often did.  Her other hand copied Amanda's, her thumb on Amanda's clit, rubbing it hard through her trousers.  They were moaning, writhing against each other in the mossy soil, legs flailing, and Carly's gardenia scent mixed with the green smell of grass and earth.  The trickle of the nearby brook merged in Amanda's mind with the wetness she felt between her own legs, and she could only imagine what it would be like to open Carly's trousers now, her quim flushed red, running with juices, lips swollen like the lips she was kissing now.  A haze settled over her senses, so that hearing became feeling became tasting and smelling, tree and hair and grass, mouth and brook and quim, warm Carly and warm sunshine.

Then Carly twisted her hand, so, and Amanda was crying out her name, spasming, riding that relentless hand, but still rubbing with her own, even as she came.  Carly was grinning, and as Amanda came down she wanted to wipe that grin off her face so she splayed her fingers, pushing Carly's legs open further, and it didn't take much more for Carly to come, too.

"Ha," Amanda said.

Carly kissed her sweetly, and they lay there on the ground under the tree, in no rush.  Amanda loved the feel of Carly in her arms, soft and warm.

"What's that noise?" Carly asked.

"What?"  She listened and could just hear splashing.  "Well, the brook gets wider not far from here-I bet it's the boys.  Wanna go see?"

Carly nodded and they stood, buttoning back up.  They tied the horses loosely to a nearby tree and walked around the bend. The boys were indeed there, swimming, and, given the lump of clothes nearby, naked.  But stealing clothes was kids' stuff and anyway, orgasms made Amanda mellow.  She leaned against a tree and quoted:  "The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up, and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water."

Chris looked up and laughed.  "The bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards."

"What was that?" Carly asked.

"Whitman," Amanda replied.  "Chris's favorite poem."  She smiled down at the boys.

"Come in!" Blake shouted.

"How cold is it?" Amanda asked.

"Find out!" he taunted.

It didn't take her long to add her blouse, bra, jodhpurs, boots and panties to the pile.  She jumped right in and came up sputtering-the water was freezing!  "Fuck you Blake Lewis," she said, and Blake cackled in response.

"Come on, Carly," Chris said.  "Join the party.  Amanda'll warm you up later."

Carly stood for a moment, and then Amanda winked at her, so in she came.  Funny how easily she fit into the group, just as Blake had insinuated himself into the Chris-and-Amanda unit back in Calgary.  They swam for a bit in the cold water, and then dressed and got the horses and rode back to the house, Chris with Carly and Amanda with Blake.  Amanda looked around them, at the land and the sun shining down and got a little shiver.

"What is it?" Blake, who was sitting behind her, asked.

"I don't know," she said.  "I'm almost too happy, you know?"

She could sense Blake turning to look at Chris.  "Yeah," he said.  "I know."

Dinner was lovely, the three singers and three airmen making a merry party as usual, and while Cook and Robinson walked Kim and Kelly home, Kat and Daughtry wandered off in their own direction, as they were wont to do.

"I had a very nice time tonight.  Thank you so much," Kim said.  "I love my flowers."  Robinson had brought her a bouquet of silvery-pink tulips, which were now in a little jar next to her bed.

"I'm glad," Robinson said.  "I had a good time, too.  Uh, so we're supposed to leave in the late morning, and I wondered, you talked so about those biscuits …"

"Of course you can come for breakfast!" Kim said.  "I'm only sorry I didn't think of it first.  All three of you should come."

"Thank you."  Robinson paused for a moment, and then suddenly he leaned down and kissed Kim on the cheek.  "Well, good night," he said, moving away.

"Goodnight," Kim said, resisting the impulse to put her hand to her cheek.  Cook was walking away too, and Kelly went back inside, but Kim felt rooted to the spot, watching until Robinson and Cook rounded the corner. She walked into the house more confused than ever.  Robinson was certainly odd-he never actually behaved like a suitor, like the romantic Daughtry or even the more light-hearted Cook.  And yet sometimes she felt that they were more than just friends.  Well, it wasn't as though she was turning down other suitors.

There was a small dish of leftover snap peas in the icebox, and she munched on them as she walked up to her bedroom.  Kat and Daughtry would be out walking for quite a while, knowing them, and knowing Jen she'd be out all hours, but Kim had a new book to devour and surely something could be found on the "wireless."  She opened the door to the bedroom and stepped inside, just about to reach for the light switch when, by the moonlight streaming in the window, she saw something moving near Jen's bed.  Surprised, she dropped the bowl and peas scattered all over the floor.

"Kat?" Jen asked.

"No, it's Kim."  Something shifted then, and she realized Jen wasn't alone.  "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't go, Kim," said a male voice, though she wasn't sure if it was Rickey Smith or his cousin Nicky.

"Yeah, stay," said another voice, and she realized that they were both there.  Not that this was surprising.

"Lock the door and come over here, Kim," Jen said, and now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light she could see Jen was sitting up in her bed, naked, her arms open in welcome.  Rickey was to her left, Nicky her right, and they were nude too, their skin dark against the sheets.

Kim wasn't thinking; she was so tired of thinking, of trying to work out what Robinson was doing and how to respond, of trying not to see more than was there.  This was easy, just another dalliance with a boy in a band-or, if it was possible, even less complicated than that, as neither of these boys were here for her, and Jen, well, Jen was the one doing the inviting.  She turned the lock behind her and walked toward Jen's bed, dropping her purse on her own bed.

"Sit next to Rickey," Jen said.  "He got what he wanted already so he should be inclined to be generous."  She gave him a look.

"I am so inclined," Rickey said, "as a matter of fact."  He smiled and Kim thought, Rickey is a friend.  He stood and unbuttoned her cardigan, slipping it off and laying it on her bed, then unzipped her dress.  She slipped out of her shoes, and then Rickey was taking off her bra and her panty girdle.  Whether it was the partial darkness or just the oddness of the situation she wasn't sure, but she didn't feel awkward in the least.  Rickey rolled her stockings off and there she was, naked like the rest of them.

"Good," Jen said.  "Just do whatever Kim wants, Rickey.  Now, Nicky, back to what you were doing, honey."  Nicky winked at Kim before rolling on top of Jen, his head between her legs.

"What would you like, Kim?" Rickey asked, gently pulling her back so they sat on her bed.

Kim watched Nicky licking his way up Jen's body, making her giggle.  "Just-just your hands, that's fine, I think."

"You don't want a kiss?" he asked.

She brought her hand to her cheek.  "No, Rickey, thank you, but no."

"All righty," he said.  He sat behind her, straddling her body, and she leaned back in his arms.  She spread her legs and his hand slid between them, the other fondling a breast, and she let herself be carried away.

Seeing another couple having sex wasn't entirely new to Kim; she'd been singing for a while, and sometimes that meant sharing bedrooms with girls who weren't particularly modest.  And Jen was so relaxed about this sort of thing that it was difficult to be particularly surprised that Kim had finally caught her at it.  Nicky had entered Jen and was pushing in and out of her now, his high muscular buttocks flexing with each thrust.  She thought of Robinson, of the behind that showed when he wore his bomber jacket, the behind she'd spent most of the day trying not to stare at.  Jen had her eyes closed, head tipped back, and Nicky was grunting.  Rickey was warm around her, his fingers busy doing their work, but in her mind they were Robinson's fingers, Robinson's body solid behind her, Robinson making love to her on the bed.  Nicky was close, moving faster, and Jen was biting her lip to keep from shouting.  Kim could feel herself dissolving; she closed her eyes, letting the wave crash over her, and whispered Robinson's name.

When she opened her eyes again, Rickey had leaned back away from her.  Nicky was sitting up and he and Jen were looking at her, too.  She felt suddenly shy and closed her legs, then grabbed her nightie from the foot of her bed and held it over her breasts.

"Oh Kim," Jen said, shaking her head.  "All right boys, time for you to go."  Like well-trained dogs, the boys obeyed, putting their clothes back on, and Kim slipped her nightie over her head.  They gave Jen a kiss, and Kim friendly pecks atop her head, and then snuck out over the balcony and down a nearby tree.

Kim switched on the bedside lamp then, and began putting away her clothes.  Jen stretched out on the bed like a cat.

"You'd better put something on before Kat comes back," Kim said.

"I will," she replied.  "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Kim said, hanging her dress in the closet.

"Are you still a virgin?"

"Yep," she answered.

"But that wasn't the first time you went petting."

"Oh, no," she said.  "But I'd like to save something."

Jen poked her head up through her nightgown.  "For marriage?"

"Yeah, make it special."  She unlocked the bedroom door, then crawled into bed, putting her new book on the nightstand next to her flowers-it would have to wait until tomorrow.  "Make it mean something."

"Something besides forever?" Jen asked, smiling.  "What about that Robinson?  He's a handsome one, and he pays a lot of attention to you."

"Oh, he's just a friend," Kim said.

"You know you could have any of the boys in the band if you just lifted your little finger."

"Maybe.  But not Rickey or Nicky."

"Oh, I can't decide, Kim.  Nicky is so sweet and Rickey is so funny.  If only they were together in one person!"

"Jen, if you really felt strongly for one of them, you'd know."

The door opened then-Kat, coming home, dreamy smile as she closed the door behind her.  "Oh girls," she said, closing her eyes and leaning against the door, "Christopher is just-the end!"  She opened her eyes and looked down.  "Why are there peas all over the floor?"

Kim had just pulled biscuits out of the oven when Robinson knocked on the kitchen door, Daughtry just behind him.  "I hope we're not early," he said.

"Lord, no," Mandisa replied.  "Show folks always sleepin' in, except Kim here."

"I like mornings," she said.  "I nap in the afternoon instead.  I'm sure Kat will be down directly."

"Sit down, boys," Mandisa said.  "Now, we have biscuits and sausage gravy, and eggs, and you know these English folks have a grilled tomato and I think it goes real nice."

The boys thanked her, and sat down.  "Aren't you eating, Miss Locke?" Robinson asked.

"I had an egg earlier, but now the biscuits are done-" she sat down and split one on a plate, slathering it with butter and jam.

Kat walked in then, fresh as a daisy in a pretty polka-dotted dress, a ribbon in her hair.  "Good morning all!" she said, perching on a chair next to Daughtry.

"Good morning Katharine," Daughtry said.  "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, Christopher, thank you," she said with just a little giggle.  "I hope you did too."

"Won't you have some breakfast?" he asked.

"Oh, I can't eat a thing in the morning," Kat said.  "But you go right ahead."

Kim put the biscuit down, feeling suddenly dumpy in her sunshine yellow cotton dress and blue apron, and she was sure she had flour on her cheek or forehead.  But Robinson caught her eye then, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye and suddenly she didn't really care-much-that she hadn't made a grand entrance.

"Did you start the book, Miss Locke?"

"What?  Oh!  Um, when I went upstairs, Jen was home, and you know.  Girl talk!"  She smiled, hopefully innocently.  "And you?"

"I talked to Cook for a while, and then he left, and I wrote a letter to my mother."

"He doesn't stay with you?"

"No, he's been staying with a friend when he comes to the city-a male friend, nothing for Miss Clarkson to wonder about."

"Sounds like a cozy evening."

"It was," he said, finishing off his biscuit.  He leaned over, getting quite close, and he was warm and smelled of soap.  "I suppose it's too much to ask if there's any pie," he said.

She smiled.  "There's always pie," she said, and rose to pull one out of the cupboard.

"Is that pie?" asked a voice at the door.

Kim looked up to see Lt. Cook.  "It is, please, come have some."

"Thanks," he said, sitting down on the other side of Kim.  "Say, do you have a radio in here?"

"We do," Mandisa said, and switched it on.

"… and the King is expected to speak within the hour.  Again, the announcement from Downing Street, Neville Chamberlain has resigned and a new government has been formed under the leadership of Winston Churchill."

"Not surprising after Norway," Cook said, "but still."

"Norway?" Kat asked.

Robinson looked like he was trying not to smile; Cook just looked confused.  Daughtry took Kat's hand.  "You remember, sweetheart.    Last month the Germans invaded."

"More like, got an invitation," Robinson said.

"But why would Mr. Chamberlain lose his job?" she asked.

"Because the Brits sent forces to Norway," Daughtry replied, "and they lost."

"Badly," Cook added.

At that moment Paula came floating into the kitchen, waving her hand.

"Girls, girls!  Simon-Mr. Fuller that is-oh look!  I'm getting married again!" she announced, and dropped into one of the chairs.  Kim and Kat immediately went to Paula's side, gushing over the sizable diamond ring, asking for proposal details (he took her to dine in a private room of an exclusive restaurant, where he went down on one knee).  "November some time, in the back garden of this very house-I'll need your excellent help, Mrs. Studdard."

"Miss Abdul, I'd be honored to help you plan your wedding," Mandisa said, smiling.

"And all of you should be there, including you," Paula said, indicating Cook, Robinson and Daughtry.  "Oh, I have to write my mother, and Rabbi Yamin, maybe he'll officiate.  So much to do, so much to do!" she said, and floated out of the kitchen, congratulations following her.

Cook took a last bite of pie.  "We should go.  Catch that train."

The men rose, and thanked Mandisa, and Daughtry and Kat stepped outside for a moment before Robinson and Cook followed.  Suddenly Kelly came running through the kitchen and out the door.  "Hey Cook!"

He turned, walking backwards.  "Yeah?"

"Don't get yourself shot!"

He grinned.  "I'll try to avoid that."

"Good!"

The other boys turned and waved, and then they were around the corner and gone.  Kat, as usual, was a little teary, so Kim wrapped an arm around her.  "All right ladies," she said.  "We've got a show to do tonight."

Paddington Station was busy with working people headed to offices and others getting an early start on their bank holiday weekend.  Amanda, Blake and Chris sat near the track for their train, using their piled kit bags as cushions.  Carly was still with them, which made it feel like they were still on their little break even though they were just waiting on the train.  The other men in the squadron assumed she was dating either Chris or Blake, and gossip (which Castro and Grigsby faithfully reported to Amanda out of some sense of loyalty) couldn't decide which was more likely, much as the gossip couldn't decide if Chris and Amanda were secretly fucking, or had once but were now merely friends.  Amanda would laugh and ask why she couldn't have a "girlfriend" who wasn't dating her childhood friend or his buddy, but as long as the gossip didn't get near the truth, it was more helpful than not. Cook had advised that they use it, play it up to distract folks from what was really going on, so Carly waiting with them for the train was useful in more ways than one.

Cook, with Robinson and Daughtry, was the last of the airmen to arrive and hustled them into a separate car near the back of the train-Amanda managed a quick hug with Carly before they were on on their way back to the base.  She was glad Pastor Sligh was with them, so the boys would put a damper on the sex talk, something they'd long since stopped worrying about in her presence.  "Where'd y'all go, Padre?" she asked, knowing he'd been traveling with Bice and Stacey.

"Winchester Cathedral," he replied.  "So beautiful, deeply spiritual."

"And some castles," Bice added.  "Got some little things for the wife."

"Took Sligh to the Pyramid club one night," Stacey said.

"Uh oh," Rogers said, grinning.

"Now, I enjoyed it!" Sligh said.  "Very energetic, very entertaining, creative.  That Miss Abdul is delightful."

"Engaged," Robinson said.  "To that Fuller fella who owns the club."

"We were at their house this morning," Cook explained, "and when she came in with that diamond, you should have seen the girls' faces."

"Look out, Daughtry," Young teased, jabbing him with an elbow.  "You're next."

"And that girl looks like the big diamond type," Lewis added.

"Don't rush me," Daughtry said.  "I'm taking my time."

"What about you, Robinson?" Grigsby asked.  "You've been seeing a lot of that Miss Locke."

Robinson smiled, a bit wistfully.  "Now," he answered, "we're just friends.  We read books together."

"Friends who send each other postcards two or three times a week," Rogers said.

"Maybe," Robinson admitted, a little sheepishly, "but I don't think I'm her type.  Anyway, what about you?  Run out of chorus girls yet?"

"I'll have you know that Young and I went to the museum and saw art."

"Paintings of kings and stuff," Young added.

"Did you bring the girls with you?" Robinson asked.

"'Course not!" Rogers said.

"Leaves more girls for us," Castro said, leaning back and crossing his ankles.

"What about you, Richardson?" Cook asked.

"We were lazy," Chris said.  "Mostly just slept and ate.  Rode a bit."

Cook nodded, and Amanda felt odd, as she usually did when she remembered what he knew-heck, what he was doing himself.  "How's your girl, Lt. Cook?" she asked.  "Got her yet?"

"That girl," Daughtry said, "is crazy."

"I just wish she'd make up her mind," Cook said.

"Plenty of other girls," Rogers said.

Cook sighed.  "Not for me.  Good thing I was staying with McHale-he never lets a fella get gloomy."

Blake looked dangerously close to making a smart remark, but just then the car door opened, and Lt. Rogers poked his head in.  "Check in full?" he asked.

"Yep," Cook said.  "You?"

"Yep.  Something's up, though.  I think they're tryin' to keep it quiet, but when I called this morning I couldn't even get the captain.  And you and I are to report in as soon as we get there."

"Do you think-" Cook began.

"Wouldn't be surprised.  I've told my men, thought you fellas should know, too."

"Thanks, Matt," Cook said, shaking Lt. Rogers's hand.

"Anytime, David," Rogers replied, and left.

Cook turned, and his face had gone from joking to very grave.  "Well, you heard him, men.  Dunno what's happened but get good at writing.  Don't think we'll be back in London for a while."

Kim was running just a little late-her evening and morning had thrown her off kilter.  She, Kat and Jen were meeting Carly for lunch, something she was very much looking forward to as Carly had been away for the past few days.  She'd got downstairs only to realize she'd left her gloves in her other bag, and had to run back upstairs to get them.

Most of the chorus girls who shared their floor of the house were still sleeping their night off, but Kim heard noises coming from one room.  Whether it was pain or sex she couldn't tell, but if one of the girls was fool enough to have a man in her room during the day she'd be lucky to be discovered by Kim rather than Mandisa or Paula.  The door was ajar, so she peeked in and saw the noises were definitely sex, though there was no man involved.  But she'd clearly been right about Gina and Haley, as they were writhing around under the covers, eyes closed, mouths open and on each other when they weren't gasping.  Kim shook her head and pulled the door closed, just a bit loudly to make her point, and continued down the hall.  A moment later, she heard the door open again.  "Oh!  Sorry Kim!"

She turned to see Gina in a robe in the hall, Haley peering out the door.  "Just close the door and be quieter!" she said, and ran back down the stairs.

Jen, who was standing with Kat at the foot of the stairs, pointed at her watch, "Were those gloves in France or something?" she teased.

Kim glanced at Kat.  "I'll tell you later," she said.  "Let's go."

Carly was already at the table when they arrived.  "Sorry we're late!" Kim said.  "How was your trip?"

"Lovely!  Burnshaw is even larger and lovelier than I'd imagined.  It was odd-I had to keep pinching myself that I was there.  And you?"

"Oh, Carly," Kat said, "it was so wonderful."  And Kat was off, breathless with romantic details.  Tuesday, the boys took them to lunch "and Chris gave me the prettiest stationery to write him letters, palest pink with roses!"

When he arrived Robinson had given Kim a book about Gandhi of India, and wrote on the inside flap that she brings everyone peace, which Kim thought was sweet.

They all came to the show "and Chris brought me to a darling little coffee-house after."

Robinson and Cook and some of the other airmen had gone with Kim, Jen and the band to the after-hours club where things got a bit raucous-chorus girls were dancing on the tables, and Kelly did a shimmy for Cook.  Kim, goaded by Chik Easy, sang a song that (to put it plainly) she wouldn't sing in front of her mother, but it had made Robinson laugh harder than she'd ever seen.

Wednesday they went for a picnic in a park nearby "with some cold fried chicken-didn't you make that, Kim?  I'm so impressed with anyone who can cook and do practical things-I'm afraid I'm quite hopeless!  Anyway, Chris had this little book of poems and I read some aloud-weren't they lovely, Kim?  So romantic!"

Kim hadn't been listening to Kat-she and Robinson were talking about the Box Hill picnic in Emma.  Cook and Kelly were making kazoos out of blades of grass, giving odd nicknames to passersby, and trying not to snicker at Kat reading Browning while Daughtry watched her reverently.

After the show that night the boys came back to the house for coffee "and Chris said how much he loved to hear my voice on the radio, because I seem closer, and it makes the other fellas jealous."

Robinson's comments about her own singing on the radio still amazed Kim; he always paid just a little bit more attention than she thought he did.  Not that what he said was unadulterated praise, but that just proved that he'd given it some thought, taken it seriously.

Thursday the show was dark, "so Chris and I went to a palace!  And we saw the crown jewels, and went to a museum and looked at paintings of kings."

The results of Kim and Robinson's Thursday afternoon in Charing Cross Road was on the floor of her closet, hers and his books in neat piles.

"… and then we had dinner-oh Carly you should have seen the roses!"

Kim remembered her silvery-pink tulips, the unexpected kiss on the cheek, the dozen little kindnesses, all of which she'd meant to talk to Carly about, but while she still cherished them, she knew they weren't much next to Kat's story, and decided to remain silent.

"… and we went for a long walk in the moonlight and he gave me this"-Kat displayed the locket that now hung around her neck-"isn't it lovely? and with a picture and all!"

Kim was happy for Kat; Daughtry was lovely and adored her and Kat appreciated his quiet intensity where other girls might have overlooked him, or thought him a bit much. She resolved to not let envy get in the way.  "It's very beautiful," Kim said.

"Sounds like you girls had a lovely week," Carly said.

"What about you, Carly?  And here I've been prattling on!" Kat said.  "Did you meet the Duke?"

"For lunch," Carly said.  "His Grace was here in town-Parliamentary debates and all.  But that meant we had the estate to ourselves."

"How fun!" Kat said.  "Oh," and now she whispered, "too much tea!  I'll be right back, but I want to hear all about it!"  She stepped away from the table.

"All right, Kim," Jen said, "what went on upstairs that made you late?"

"Well," Kim said, leaning forward, "Gina and Haley left the door open."

"Tuh," Jen said.  "They're gonna get caught if they're not careful!"

"Caught doing what?" Carly asked.

"Um," Kim began.

"Making whoopee," Jen said.

"Oh my," Carly said, flushing a little.  "And you, er, you approve of that?"

"We've seen this before," Kim said with a shrug.

"Live and let live, I say," Jen added.  "More men for me!"

"I see," Carly said.

"Why, honey?" Jen asked.

"Well, I-"

Kim had a sudden flash.  "Carly, are you …"

Carly nodded.

Jen whistled.  "So why are you dating Lewis?"

"I'm not," she said, a little smile on her face.  "I'm dating Overmyer."

"My goodness!" Kim said.  "And Lewis?"

"Is dating Richardson."

"That is a waste of a beautiful man," Jen said.

"Jen!" Kim warned.

"I'm just telling the truth!"

"You can't tell anyone, even Robinson.  They could be thrown out of the air force!  Promise!"

"Of course we promise, honey," Jen said, and Kim nodded as well.  "But damn, you must have had some week!"

Carly grinned.  "Oh, we did," she said.

Kat came back, showing her usual impeccable timing.  "So tell me, how was Lewis?  He doesn't seem very gentlemanly, I must admit."

"Oh, I'm not dating Lewis," Carly said.  "I'm dating Richardson."

"I thought he was with that Overmyer."

"Oh no, they're like brother and sister.  She's with Lewis."

"That makes so much more sense!" Kat said.  "I don't think Overmyer wants a gentleman."

Jen suddenly started coughing into her napkin.  "Sorry," she said, avoiding Kim and Carly's eyes, "went down the wrong way."

Kat turned to Carly.  "Tell me all!"

As Carly began her story, of dapper men in tuxedos dressed for dinner and dancing to the Victrola in the grand ballroom, Kim couldn't tell where the truth was and which bits were fibs.  She felt even more ashamed of her earlier envy of Kat; after all, if he wanted to, Robinson could take her hand, or dance with her, at any time.  She made a mental note to take Carly out to tea privately, very soon.  Just as Kim deserved to tell the few things she could about Robinson, so Carly deserved to tell her own story to a friend-the true story.

Years, even decades later, Simon would remember that evening with perfect clarity.  They were sitting in Ryan's office eating dinner from the BBC cafeteria-pub food, really; he remembered the greasy aftertaste of chips.  Small David was there, gobbling up the Churchill news like the little politics swot he was, reading bits of the debate.  Ryan and Joel were there of course, having interviewed various American contacts and sent the tapes to New York to be incorporated into the news broadcasts, and it was odd to think of Ryan doing hard news; the part of Ryan who wrote The Great Lost Cause only revealed himself on occasion, even now.  Giuliana was eating with them, too; the other reporters had kept her jumping all day, as the secretaries in the news division were flat out and needed the help.  Carly had been to lunch with those Pyramid singers, girl talk from what Simon could glean, but also a report that Kim would have some new songs for him shortly, and God bless her for that.  Kim was improving but Simon was waiting for that click, and it hadn't come yet.  Where was that song?

Carly and Joel were comparing bizarre notes about their airman lovers-what must small David make of all this, Simon wondered, particularly as Cook was his flight instructor with all attendant hero worship, but like everything else the boy took it all in stride.  (Though, come to think of it, his uncle "big" David was Ryan's ex, so small David must be used to it; Simon just avoided thinking about David Hernandez as much as possible.)  But mostly they were talking about the recent stunning political developments.   And Ryan's hand was warm in his own, under the desk.

A knock at the door-Giuliana answered-it was Nigel, looking very pale, and Nigel was almost never thrown by anything at all.  Simon sat up, a little current of fear, keeping his hand in Ryan's.  "What is it?" he asked, almost not wanting to.

"The Germans have invaded Belgium and are on their way to France," Nigel said.  "Circumvented the Maginot line entirely."

They all froze.  Ryan asked, "Like Norway?"

"Much worse," Nigel said.  "Nothing phony about this war now.  Turn on your speaker-report will hit the air in five."

Small David managed to do just that, and they sat there, listening to the report, huddled together around Ryan's desk.

He probably looked at everyone, though later he only remembered small David's grim determination growing steelier, Carly biting her lip with worry, and Ryan of course.  Ryan turned to him, brave and scared and excited all at once, and Simon wished this were all some bizarre deja vu.  But here it was, all around them, new.  He held Ryan's hand tighter.

No.  It wouldn't happen again.  He wouldn't let it.

Chapter Seven: Gaslight

Notes:

Pursuits of Happiness is a book by the philosopher Stanley Cavell; more on him later.

"Not surprising after Norway …"
The Germans invaded Norway on 3 April 1940, and British troops landed to assist resistance to the Germans on 14 April. But their efforts failed, and all British troops were pulled out of Norway on 28 April, after only two weeks of fighting. Debate followed in the House of Commons, with Chamberlain coming under attack from both the opposition Labor Party and backbenchers in his own Conservative party. It was determined best that a new coalition government be formed, under Winston Churchill, and Chamberlain resigned.

And yes, the Germans really did invade the Low Countries of Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands the very day Churchill became the new Prime Minister. The government knew of this some hours before it hit the press-hence Rogers and Cook being told to report immediately upon arriving at the base.

Even though the Soviets had invaded Finland in November-referred to in ch. 5-and the Germans invaded Norway in April, the invasion of the Low Countries is considered the end of the so-called Phoney War that had lasted since the German invasion of Poland in September.