April 1930, England

Peggy

"...and glory to our father in heaven. Amen."

"Amen," I repeated, and sat down.

For the next half hour I amused myself by counting the tiles on the stained glass windows until I was interrupted by a tap on my shoulder and a small note that dropped onto the floor in front of me.

I snatched up the piece of paper and craned my head around, trying to see who had been daring enough to throw a note in the middle of church, while still looking like I was facing forward towards the front.

I'd never seen him before, then again, we never saw many new people anyways. The same people tend to show up to the same boring tea parlours in our little neighborhood and discuss the same boring works on etiquette. I could hardly imagine that a many great variety of interesting people would want to go to such a thing anyways.

I talked to him afterwards as we'd both agreed without words that it would've been utterly impossible to do any talking in the middle of church. The stern look I'd gotten from my aunt wasn't exactly encouraging either.

The first thing I noticed was his accent; it was the funniest accent really. He was handsome too, dark hair and dark eyes. Despite clearly not knowing anyone, he was confident. In fact, he practically radiated confidence. He gave the impression of someone who needed no assurance about himself from others, but was so nonchalantly pleased with himself that his own assurance was all that was needed. But he did not seem overly self-centered either, but simply someone who would hardly ever let himself be told that he was any less than his perception of himself. And I could tell this all from the few sentences I spoke with him.

"Are you from America?" I asked, interested.

"I am. New York City, actually. You know where that is?"

"Of course I do! I'm Peggy by the way. My aunt's over there talking to her friend."

He nodded. "Hmm, she's talking to my aunt, I wonder why I've never heard of you, Peggy?" he said with a smile.

"Well, I've never heard of you…" I trailed off embarrassedly, realizing that I didn't know his name.

"Howard. Howard Stark. I didn't mean to offend you Miss Peggy, it was only a joke."

"That's alright," I said, "I didn't take offense."

"And my note passing did not offend you?"

"No, though I do wonder if you throw paper around in church regularly. We take church quite seriously here," I replied with an upturned nose.

He smiled again. "I do too, my family and I are all quite religious really, I was only trying to get your attention.

"There you are Peggy!" I turned to see my aunt walk over with her friend trailing behind.

Her friend teetered in her heels and then slowly made her way to us. " I'm Ms. Daisy Stark, you can call me Daisy though. And, you must be Annemarie's delightful little niece!" she exclaimed.

"Yes ma'am," I replied politely, cringing at being labeled as "little".

"Your aunt Annemarie tells me you are a very bright child, top of the class!"

"Yes ma'am, I try my best."

"And what is your favorite subject?"

"I like to study history."

"Ah yes, you are bright! Quite intelligent! How old are you child?"

"I'm eleven, ma'am," I replied, still trying to figure out her reasoning that anyone who liked history could automatically be considered bright and intelligent.

"Oh, what a precocious girl! Just precocious!" she exclaimed joyfully, "Peggy dear, you are quite the precocious little girl!"

I heard a little gasp of laughter behind and glimpsed Howard nearly snorting with laughter. I realized that I had made a face this time at being called "little" again and that he found my discomfort in the presence of his overpowering aunt quite amusing.

"Isn't that right Peggy? Ms. Stark asked you a question."

I looked up in surprise to see my aunt looking at me, clearly waiting for an answer, no doubt finding something unladylike in my missing of Ms. Stark's question.

"You said you were eleven, dear?" she asked again.

"Yes ma'am I am."

"Why, you are almost the same age as Howard! You are a bit small for your age, Peggy, but what a perfect little lady! Howard is thirteen. But, let me introduce you both!"

I exhaled in exasperation. "No ma'am, that's quite all right, we've met."

I saw my aunt shake her head at my impoliteness, but chose to ignore it.

Ms. Stark, not taken aback at all, continued on, saying how us four just had to go out to her favorite tea parlour for lunch sometime and how Howard was staying with her for a few years to be educated here in London.

My aunt nodded. "Of course, Daisy, we would be delighted."

Later in the car ride on the way home I was scolded for being so uncourteous to Ms. Stark. But I hardly paid attention.

We went out for tea the next day. It was my turn to laugh as I saw Howard sitting in a little pink tea parlour eating cranberry muffins and sipping tea with too much cream in it as gracefully as he could. He told me about how his father owned a company with all the newest technology, things that five years ago, nobody had even thought of. I, in turn told him about my father, how he'd returned from the war to tell me about it. I spoke of my father as a hero. And he was. I told him how I planned to join the army someday, something that I really hadn't told anyone. Howard then told me about his home, New York City, about the lights in Times Square that made it seem as if it was always daytime, about the big bridge that crossed over a stretch of water and about the surprising quaintness of some little neighborhoods in Brooklyn. To a girl of eleven who'd never been out of the little shires of England, his stories seemed like those of a fairytale. In fact I imagined that it was a place of princesses and knights, and that without a doubt, was far more exciting than any place I'd ever heard of.