"Shelter from the Storm", Ellie Dean

I scampered incredibly quickly through a heartwarming piece of Second World War genre-fic as toilet reading -- not an entirely fair way of judging literature, but it seemed good enough of its kind. Just for once it would be interesting to see a plot where the unmarried mother didn't experience a sudden rush of overwhelming love on the arrival of her infant and decide to abandon all her plans for having it adopted (oops, could that have been a spoiler?)

People didn't talk about 'African-Americans' with reference to black GIs, though (they were officially Negroes and certainly not 'African' in anyone's eyes) -- and my hackles were really raised by the author's dismissive attitude to railway signalling as the territory of puffed-up men strutting self-importantly around with flags. While I'm sure a heavily-pregnant girl could have managed to take over the relatively light duties of a country stationmaster if necessary (though I find it hard to imagine any railway company agreeing to allow it!), the author doesn't come off well in showing her laughing up her sleeve at the silly elderly male instructor who thinks all this stuff about sending tings down the line to a waiting train is important. (Never mind about the engine that is described as whistling 'up its funnel' :-p)
Apparently it hasn't occurred to the writer that railway signalling is as complicated as it is as a result of a series of hideous accidents, and that even on a small branch line the consequences of getting it wrong are potentially appalling. It's just some esoteric male ritual to her :-(