Next part of story

Here is the next part to the story I started the other day, actually I'm not sure if it's the next part or not - it's just the next bit that I've written. I will be writing all over the place at first. Remember this is just me beginning - so bear with me while I begin this story telling craft! Thank you.

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Two weeks previous…..

Ally, was getting ready for another night on the town. How she loved the getting ready part. Music playing loud in the background, all kinds of make-up spread out before her. It was like an artist’s pallet just waiting to be applied. I wonder if he will be there tonight, that boy, that gorgeous wonderful boy. Most of the boys her age were gone. Gone fighting for our country, it was hard these days to get a catch! Ally felt privileged, her father was very wealthy and high up in the army ranks. She could have whatever she wanted. She didn’t really know what his job was, she wasn’t really interested. All she cared about was what he brought home for her every time he came home. He knew a lot of American soldiers who brought over such lovely things. I want to go to America one day, she thought, as she smiled at herself in the mirror. She imagined that it must be so swanky over there. Not like boring, boring England with this stupid war! Ally didn’t know anything about the war and what was going on around her, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to be happy. Edgar will make me happy, she thought. She knew that he would because he told her so. The sirens went off again.
‘Oh for pity’s sake’, she screamed. ‘Don’t they know I need to get ready’.
Her mother called up the stairs;
‘Come on Ally, we need to go down to the shelter.’
‘Oh Mother, for heaven’s sake, they never bomb our street, they usually bomb the city’.

Ally was always so up in the clouds, a siren was never going to bring her down. She really didn’t want to believe what was going on around her. She really never ever dreamt that they could be affected. Her Daddy always made sure of that. Anyway, reluctantly she left her dressing table and made for the stairs. Her mother was waiting anxiously at the bottom.

‘Come on or we wont get into the shelter. Ally, please hurry’.

Her mum always panicked, always flustered, always thought the worse.

‘Ok, ok, I’m coming can’t you see?’