Day 18 – War
Mamie lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as she looked around the dingy little room she'd been assigned as a wardrobe: shabby furniture; a tiny mirror; barely enough space for her suitcase… Not that she'd expected luxuries, not this close to the front line. And really, she didn't mind, not anymore. There'd been times in her life when she'd have made a scene and complained, every inch the diva. But the last few years of war had taught them all how meaningless such things were, how utterly trivial in the face of death and pain and loss.
For the past two years she'd been travelling around Europe, performing in field hospitals and officers' clubs, in smelly mess halls and on trampled parade grounds. When people asked her why she did this, why the divine Mamie Cousland wasted her talents on unwashed soldiers, she had a number of glib responses ready, platitudes to shut them up. But, the truth was that she cared.
For the first time in her life, she cared about her audience: the tears in the eyes of a crippled boy; the gleam of hope in the men's eyes when she joked and flirted with them; the longing she could read in their faces for peace, for love, for home - all that meant so much more than her two Academy Awards, so much more than all the prizes and accolades of her career.
With a tired sigh, she stubbed out the cigarette and untied the laces of her heavy boots. She always wore her uniform when she first arrived at a new destination, and she always made sure she got the same food, the same rations as the soldiers. No point in coming here if she wasn't prepared to share their hardships. Once she was on stage, it was a different story, though.
Her dress for tonight was already out on a hanger, the glittering golden pumps and silk stockings carefully placed next to it. She'd chosen it with care, a dazzling sequined gown with daring cleavage and a tight, slit skirt. The hospital was a dismal place, hidden away in a small French town, and the patients could do with a heavy dose of glamour. Taking off her blouse and skirt, she folded them neatly and put them away, checking her reflection in the mirror with a critical glance.
A sharp knock on the door announced Nate's arrival. "Need help?"
He was in uniform too, and it looked good on his tall, lean frame. He'd shaved off the stubble as well, which was a pity, as far as she was concerned. Mamie liked the scruffy look on him, but the military's views were a bit stricter. When Nate had first recruited her for the Morale Operations Branch, he'd worn civilian clothes, a well-cut, elegant suit, and he'd fit in perfectly in the bar of the Ritz Carlton. Mamie smiled at the memory. Her first encounter with the OSS, and her first encounter with Agent Howe, her lover of almost two years now. She'd never stuck with any guy for quite so long.
She turned around so he could help her zip up her dress. He took his time, his fingers lingering lovingly on her back, caressing her through the thin silk of her slip.
"You look stunning," he whispered hoarsely in her ear.
"Good." She reached for her earrings. "The boys out there need something to take their mind off the war."
"I don't think any of them will be thinking about the war tonight." His hands tightened around her slim waist. "And neither will I."
Her make-up needed only a little touching up: a brighter shade of lipstick; a little extra rouge. She'd learned to do her hair herself, too. Shaking out the red-golden curls, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror, then turned and headed for the door. Nate held it open for her, a look of sincere admiration on his face. He'd told her once how much he loved to watch her transform from girl next door to goddess before each performance. He never seemed to tire of it.
The venue tonight was a church hall, right next to the hospital, which meant she had an actual stage to work with and a proper piano. Varel would be so happy about the latter. He hated playing on mediocre instruments. She smiled at him from behind the curtain, admiring his poise as he sat down on the stool. He might be too old for active duty, but he was definitely contributing his share to the war effort.
As he began to play, just a small tune to warm up the audience, she let her gaze wander across the auditorium. They had brought several beds over from the hospital, for the patients who were too weak or too badly maimed to walk on their own. A lot of the others had their arms in slings or their heads wrapped up with bandages; some of them were missing limbs. The sight of scars and mutilations was all too familiar to her by now, but she'd never get used to how incredibly young they all looked. Hardly more than boys, really.
At the back of the room, Nate was about to join a group of officers who had gathered round a small coffee table. They all looked a bit older and more world-weary than the common soldiers, with the exception of a tall, dark-haired young captain with a sulky look on his face. He had no visible injuries but, when he got to his feet to shake Nate's hand, she thought she noticed a slight limp.
Varel glanced in her direction and, when she nodded to show she was ready, he began to play the first few bars of her signature number, "I Just Can't Help It" – a raucous, suggestive song full of risqué allusions and breathless sighs. When she stepped out into the light, her head thrown back, her lips shaped into a seductive pout, she was greeted by a wave of wolf-whistles and loud cheers. Mamie smiled to herself. She knew she had them, right from the start.
Already, at least half of them were madly in love with her, while the other half were fantasizing about what was under that dress - all depending on how innocent they were, poor boys. Mamie loved it all, the romance and the eroticism, the sweetness and the heat. If they dreamed of her tonight, she didn't care whether they imagined her in a white dress or stark naked. They needed every distraction they could get.
More than once, between songs, her gaze wandered to the young captain. He was sitting on his chair, leaning slightly forward, his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on her. What would he dream about? Mamie felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach at the thought of finding out.
Varel shot her another questioning glance and she nodded. Catching the captain's gaze, she sauntered over to the piano. With a little help from the pianist, she arranged herself on top of the instrument, making sure her long legs showed to her best advantage before closing her eyes and launching into another slow, sultry song, her voice dark and smoky, her body writhing sensuously. She glanced over at the officer's table from under her long lashes. The young captain was swallowing hard, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.
Mamie didn't bother to hide her satisfied smile. She was enjoying herself tremendously, drinking in the admiration and the ardent looks of a whole room full of men, but, at the same time, she was getting impatient for the concert to be over.
Not before her final number, though—the song they had all been waiting for, the sad one; so full of longing and nostalgia that it was guaranteed to make them cry, for the loves they'd left behind or the ones they'd only ever dreamed of.
"Outside the barracks by the corner light, I'll always stand and wait for you at night…" Mamie closed her eyes again, losing herself in the melancholy of the tune, in the sadness of the words.
The room had turned eerily quiet, the heated atmosphere giving way to a profound sadness. Some of the intelligence officers had protested when she'd added the song to her repertoire, claiming that it was bad for the boys' morale, but she knew better. They needed this opportunity to allow their sorrow and yearning free rein, for the duration of a song, before they could get back to their duties. They all needed it, even Nate. Even she herself.
"Then we will say goodbye and part, I'll always keep you in my heart…" Every single soldier in the room joined in the chorus, their voices choked with emotion, their eyes shining brightly.
When she'd finished, there was a moment of silence before the room erupted into applause. Firmly refusing all requests for encores, she made her way down to the auditorium, grasping outstretched hands and smiling at adoring faces on her way to Nate's table.
He rose to his feet when she arrived, and so did the other men. "A flawless performance, as usual." Nate bowed over her hand and breathed a kiss on it. "Allow me to introduce you to the gentlemen here: Major Bran; Captain Hendyr; Colonel Dumar. And Captain Hawke."
She smiled charmingly at each of them, then frowned slightly at Captain Hawke. "Have we met before? You look familiar." The lie passed her lips with ease.
"Not that I'm aware of." His eyes were a lovely deep, dark brown and full of fire. "I'm sure I would remember you. How could anyone forget such loveliness?"
The other officers chuckled at his words, but Mamie hardly heard them. She was drowning in his eyes, his voice, his closeness, and she was rapidly losing ground. He hadn't even touched her, but a pleasant shiver raced down her spine as she felt his eyes on her. From across the table, Nate was looking at her thoughtfully as if he could read her mind. What now? Mamie took a deep breath. She had no idea how this evening would end.
But, right now, she was ready for anything.
I'm sure quite a lot of you will have recognized Mamie's final song anyway, but just in case: It's Lili Marleen, music by Norbert Schultze, English lyrics by Mack David, made immortal by the fabulous Marlene Dietrich. If you don't know it, check it out on youtube - it's quite beautiful and sad.