Chapter Eight
Humidity clung to the air like a cloak, and Evelyn blew out a deep breath. Her back ached from sitting on the wooden bench waiting for the train. Gladys sat beside her, nose buried in an Armed Services Edition of Graham Greene’s The Ministry of Fear. Typically shipped overseas, a few of the ASEs had found their way to the stateside bases. One of the boys had told her the pocket-sized paperbacks were almost as popular as the pinup posters. Almost, but not quite.
She should have picked up a newspaper or magazine, but she was sick of reading casualty lists even though the war was starting to turn in favor of the Allies. With her eyes focused elsewhere, she wouldn’t have to see the disdainful glances from members of the public who didn’t understand why women walked around in pa
