The Songbird and the Soldier by Wendy Lou Jones

he.”
    “Kate!”
    “Don’t tell me you won’t be at it too.”
    “I have no intention of-”
    “Have you booked in at the beauticians?” Kate butted in.
    “Nnnooo.”
    “That means you haven’t but you’re going to do it yourself, Sam Litton, so don’t you come all high and mighty with me you… tramp!”
    Sam gasped.
    Kate chuckled. “Well I for one intend to shag the poor boy’s brains out. You’ve seen the picture of his body. One word: Yum.”
    “Oh you’re incorrigible. How’s Chloe doing with her guy, do you know?”
    “No, I don’t. We’ll have to grill her on Thursday.”

    On Saturday morning Sam was a woman on a mission. She was out to find a new outfit to brighten herself up and some nice underwear in case things went well. By lunchtime she felt as if she must have looked around every shop, boutique and stall in town and still she had nothing to show for herself. On the underwear front, things had been a trifle easier: not too plain, not too tarty. It was a fine balance, but Sam was optimistic that she had got it right. Originally she had been aiming for just one set, but apprehensive of her ability to know when to wear it she decided that in this case more was definitely better. Holey faded knickers had no place in her life come next Friday.
    Sunday morning was given over to beautification. Sam waxed and preened to within an inch of her life and then she cycled round to her parents for Sunday lunch and a nice calming walk. It was at this point she realised something else needed to be added to her list: she needed to keep her parents at bay. So she warned them that she would be incredibly busy with school reports and various other bits of paperwork she had neglected to do of late, so she’d have to see them again in a fortnight and neither her mum nor her dad turned a hair at this. Job done, she thought. Tick.
    When she got back, Sam put on some Will Young and walked over to Andy’s picture. He smiled back at her. But then the nerves began to kick in again. Just imagine if the worst did happen and he didn’t like her, or they just didn’t click, or worse still, if she didn’t take to him? What would she do? She couldn’t just say, ‘sorry this just isn’t working out for me,’ and chuck him out, sending him back off to war. No, no, it had to work, that was all there was to it.
    On Monday morning, Sam began to clean. Everything that wasn’t hung up or nailed down was hauled along to the laundrette that day. Embarrassing nostalgia was hidden away and in between running clothes and bedding to and from the washing line, Sam did what she could to her little garden with the tools her dad had given to her to start out.
    On Tuesday, Sam treated herself to an hour of pampering at the hairdresser’s, and by the time she left she was feeling far more confident. It had been an expense that she wouldn’t usually allow herself, but on this occasion she felt it was totally justified.
    Wednesday was supposed to be the day set aside for filling her house with scrumptious food to feed her hungry soldier, but that had had to be put off until the afternoon, to allow Sam to pop back into town and search for that elusive new outfit. She braced herself for a second day of disappointment, but then came her break. The French market was set up in town and in it was a clothing stall for women. Sam hurried over and rummaged through the rails excitedly. Amazingly there were two dresses she liked, both in her size, one yellow and one red. She pulled them both out and wandered around looking for a mirror. She held them up and gazed at herself. While she was deep in thought, a woman walked over and stood behind her. “I think the gentleman would prefer mademoiselle in the red, non?” she said.
    “The red?” Sam asked. “Yes. I think you might be right?”
    “Absolutement.”
    Sam studied herself again. “Okay,” she said, quickly glancing at the price label, “I’ll take it. Thank you.” Sam paid the