by Molly Green
‘There’s something else. Something young Will Drake said when we interviewed him.’
Ronnie’s stomach turned over. What now?
‘He said – and these were his words – “I wanted to give Ronnie something special so I got her the camera. I love the wench but I’m not good enough for her.”’ Michael gave her a searching look. ‘He wanted you to know that.’
Ronnie squeezed shut her eyes. Poor Will. He hadn’t had much of a chance in life with a father like Leonard. Dora had tried to do her best but it wasn’t enough. He needed a good father to look up to and respect. She swallowed the tears. Dear Michael. He didn’t need to have told her, but he was too decent not to.
‘Did you love him?’ Michael studied her.
Ronnie blushed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it was the first time I ever felt anything about a boy. I never really bothered with them before. I was always a tomboy.’ She bit her lip. ‘Stupid, really, now I think about it.’
They were silent for a few moments.
‘You mentioned love in your letter to me, Ronnie.’
Michael’s sudden remark made her flinch. ‘It didn’t mean …’ she stopped. Took a jagged breath. ‘It was only the way I’d write to a friend.’
Oh, why did he have to bring up the exact thing she’d been unsure of?
‘That’s a pity. Maybe I got the wrong idea when we danced that night, but I had the distinct feeling we were much more than friends. I thought you felt the same way.’
‘What about Penelope?’
‘Penelope?’ Michael jerked his head back. ‘What makes you think I have any interest in Penelope?’
‘She seems to be very interested in you.’
‘I doubt it.’ Michael’s face was very near hers. ‘The only person she’s interested in is Penelope.’
‘Oh.’
‘As I was saying – I thought we were much more than friends and you felt the same way,’ he repeated.
‘I did,’ she said in a small voice.
‘I still do,’ Michael said firmly. ‘In fact, I’m prepared to go much further.’ He put his finger under her chin and gently turned her face towards him. ‘Ronnie, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say for such a long time. Now is probably a strange time to pick when you’re poorly—’
‘I’m all right,’ Ronnie broke in. ‘I’m not ill. It’s only my hand.’
‘Let me finish, darling,’ he said, smiling.
Darling? Her heart leapt. But then he might be the sort of person who called everyone darling – like Suzy said the actors and actresses did. But no. Michael wasn’t that sort of person at all.
His face was very close now. Her lips parted a little. A thrill of anticipation fizzed through her.
The doorbell rang, echoing up the stairs, and she heard Rusty bark.
‘That’ll be the nurse,’ Ronnie said, drawing back, disappointment flooding her body. ‘I don’t think she should find you in my bedroom, especially in your uniform!’
‘Then I’d better go and let her in,’ he grinned.
After the nurse had attended to her, Ronnie had a quick wash and cleaned her teeth. There wasn’t much she could do about her hair until Maman could help her wash it. Instead, she took up her brush, and with her good hand brushed her hair vigorously to try to get rid of the last of the dust and particles from the explosion. She looked in the dressing-table mirror and was quite shocked to see the pale face that stared back at her, though her eyes had definitely improved.
At the last moment she put the tiniest dab of lipstick on, the movement clumsy as she used her left hand. She smiled and the tired girl in the mirror smiled back. Hurrying downstairs she found her mother at the kitchen sink arranging flowers in a cut-glass vase.
Simone turned. ‘Your very nice young man brought me these. Aren’t they pretty?’ She smiled. ‘He asked to take Rusty for a walk. It was his way to give us time alone.’
‘He’s not my young man,’ Ronnie protested. She groaned inwardly. Maman was always ready to see romance in any possible situation.
‘That is not what I feel ’ere.’ Simone dramatically clasped her hands to her chest. ‘But before we speak of him, you must have breakfast.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Ronnie said.
‘I have made the porridge. It only has to be heated.’
For once, her mother’s porridge was perfectly edible, but Ronnie still found it hard to swallow. She was conscious Michael would be back any moment and she wanted time to warn her mother not to question him about his motives where her daughter was concerned.
As though reading her thoughts, Simone said, ‘He seems a very nice young man. And a policeman, too. How did you meet him?’
‘When he first came with a sergeant to inspect our boats for stolen goods,’ Ronnie said. She might as well stick to the truth.
Simone’s animated face fell. ‘Oh, that,’ she said. ‘I hope they now have dropped the matter.’
‘I think they have.’ Ronnie childishly crossed her fingers.
‘He is in his uniform, but this is a personal visit, is it not, chérie?’
Ronnie felt her cheeks warm. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
‘You have seen him when he is not on duty?’
‘Yes. I bumped into him at a dance that Jess and I went to.’
‘And did you dance with him?’
‘Yes. We did a quickstep.’
‘Ah, très bien.’
‘Thanks for the porridge, Maman,’ Ronnie said, putting her spoon down and hoping to change the subject.
‘Michael will return soon,’ Simone said. ‘I let him go to your bedroom on his own because I trust him as a member of the police force. And he is a little older than you which is good. But I must know how you feel about him and if his feelings for you are honourable.’
‘Maman, we’re in the 1940s, not the eighteenth century.’
‘Maybe I am old-fashioned but I am your maman and I do not have Dad to ask for advice. So will you please tell me the truth, chérie, and I will not ask more questions.’
She had to quieten her mother once and for all. Maman would never be satisfied until she had wrung the truth from her.
‘I love him, Maman,’ she said.
And at that very same moment she heard the front door open and Michael’s footsteps along the hall. She froze as Maman said in her clear ringing tones:
‘Then if you love him as you say you do, I will be most ’appy to welcome Michael into the family.’
Michael stood at the open kitchen door, a broad grin lighting his face.
‘Do you, Véronique? Do you really love me? Because I love you more than anything in the world.’
‘You must go into the front room to talk,’ Simone said, beaming triumphantly, and Ronnie couldn’t help smiling. She knew it was mainly because Michael had used her full name, and even though he pronounced it with an English accent, Maman would readily forgive him.
For a heart-stopping moment Ronnie thought her mother intended to follow them, but she heard her go upstairs to carry out her toilette. Heaving a sigh of relief she gave Michael a half smile of apology for her mother’s outburst and led the way to the front of the house. Once there she didn’t know whether to stand, or pick one of the easy chairs, or make a bold move to the sofa.
But Michael answered the question on her behalf. No sooner were they inside the room, than he shut the door firmly and swept her into his arms.
‘Am I hurting anything?’ he said, suddenly sounding worried that he might have knocked her hand in his exuberance.
‘No.’
Michael, just kiss me. Like you did before.
He took Ronnie’s chin and tilted her face to his. This time his kiss was even better than before.
Chapter Forty-One
One Saturday morning, 26th August, Ronnie picked up the Daily Telegraph, which the paper boy had just dropped through the letterbox, and glanced at the headlines. Her heart gave a leap of joy as she read:
/> PARIS LIBERATED AFTER FOUR
YEARS UNDER NAZIS
A small full-length photograph of Charles de Gaulle was placed by the side of the columns, which described the previous few hours. The General’s expression was deadly serious as usual, but Ronnie grinned as she filled the kettle to make her mother a cup of tea. She knew Maman would hold nothing back. It was what her mother had been waiting for all these years since that fateful day in 1940 when the Germans had marched into Paris.
Once the tea was made, she popped a couple of biscuits in the saucer and tucking the newspaper under her arm she knocked softly on the bedroom door.
‘Entre, chérie.’ Simone looked up as Ronnie entered. ‘You have the big smile, Véronique. Is it good news?’
‘The most wonderful news.’ Ronnie placed the newspaper in her mother’s hands and set the cup and saucer on her bedside table.
She watched as Maman quickly scanned the headlines and broke into a beaming smile, then kissed the photograph of de Gaulle.
‘I do not approve of everything you do,’ she directed her one-way conversation to the General, ‘but I know how much this means to you and all French people who dream of this day.’ Simone gazed at Ronnie. ‘This means much to Suzanne now, you understand, chérie. And naturellement, my darling Pierre.’ A shadow crossed her face, and then she brightened. ‘I hope he will soon come to see us but he is still important.’ She shrugged. ‘The war is not over yet. But this is a very good sign, n’est-ce pas?’
‘A very good sign,’ Ronnie said, bending and giving her mother a warm kiss on her cheek.
Simone put her delicate fingers around Ronnie’s face. ‘A perfect heart shape,’ she said. ‘You could wear any hat and look pretty.’
‘No chance on the canals,’ Ronnie said with a chuckle, ‘except a shapeless woollen one I wear day in and day out.’
Simone sighed. ‘You are such a dear child, Véronique. And brave. But I hope you will not go back to those canals now your hand is nearly better. I cannot worry about all my girls in this way. It will make me ill.’
‘Maman, you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for,’ Ronnie said, meaning it. ‘I wanted to go back as soon as my hand felt better but it’s still quite weak and you have to be really fit to pull your weight when you’re working in such a small team. So I won’t be going anywhere for a few more weeks.’
‘That is good,’ Simone said, her beautiful violet eyes looking unnaturally bright.
‘What is it, Maman?’
‘It means you will be here.’
‘Yes, that’s what I just said.’
‘I mean, in time for the wedding.’ Simone blushed, averting her eyes. After a moment she looked at Ronnie.
‘Raine’s wedding?’ Ronnie stopped short when she saw her mother’s raised eyebrow. ‘Oh, Maman. You mean you and Pierre! So he’s proposed?’
‘Many times over,’ Simone laughed. It was a good sound which Ronnie privately thought she and her sisters didn’t hear often enough. ‘But I told him not until my beloved Paris is liberated and he agreed. It is important we do not waste another moment. We can fix the proper date and inform the church.’
‘Will you be able to get married in church?’ Ronnie asked curiously.
‘Why do you say that? I am a widow.’
‘But isn’t Pierre a Catholic?’
‘Non, he is not,’ Simone said firmly. ‘Dieu merci. That was the problem with my parents. Pierre is from Alsace where there are many Protestants. That is why he has blond hair. It is different in that part of France.’
‘That makes life easier,’ Ronnie said, ‘but you need to give as much notice as possible to Raine and Suzy so they can make arrangements, as it’s difficult for them to get leave with the war still on.’
For once her mother didn’t reprimand her for shortening their names. Ronnie gave an inward smile. Maman had more important things now on her mind.
‘That is true.’ A mischievous light played across Simone’s pretty features. ‘But first I must tell Pierre that this time I will accept his proposal!’
August had slipped into September and the hot weather was still holding. It was wonderful to have both her sisters at home at the same time, Ronnie thought, as she ran up the stairs, Rusty at her heels. She could hear them chatting and laughing together in their old bedroom.
‘Come on, boy,’ Ronnie said, barging into the room with Rusty barking with excitement.
‘Can’t believe you’ve started without me,’ she said. ‘I told you I only had to feed Rusty and I’d be up.’
‘We haven’t said anything of any importance,’ Raine said, giving her a mock cuff. ‘I was just asking Suzy what she was going to wear tomorrow.’
‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ Ronnie said crossly. ‘If that isn’t important, I don’t know what is.’
‘You never used to bother about that sort of thing before,’ Suzy said, pulling her blonde hair off her face and grimacing before letting it loose again. ‘You always made it plain how you thought that was all girls talked about. But since you and Michael have been seeing each other it seems as though everything’s changed.’
‘Suzy’s right,’ Raine put in. ‘And if you could see yourself you’d know you’re as red as a beetroot.’
‘Stop teasing me,’ Ronnie said. ‘Let me see what you’ve both decided.’
‘I practically had to remake mine.’ There was a note of pride in Suzy’s voice as she went to the wardrobe and took out a lilac-coloured dress. She shook it out and held it up against herself. ‘You’ll never guess who it belonged to.’
‘Who?’
‘Jack Hawkins’s girlfriend, the actress Doreen Lawrence.’
‘How did you get hold of it?’ Raine asked.
‘She’s an actress – she’s lovely – they both are. They were in the play of the last ENSA troupe I was on, but Maisie, the wardrobe mistress, said the colour made Miss Lawrence feel ill and to please pass it on to Suzy Linfoot. She said it would bring out the unusual colour of my eyes – or was it the other way round?’ Suzy grinned.
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Ronnie said admiringly. She looked at her eldest sister. ‘What about you, Raine?’
‘I never get time to buy clothes. My boss only said at the last minute I could have the time off, so I decided it would have to be my uniform. But I’ll make a concession and wear the skirt instead of the trousers … especially for Maman.’ Raine winked.
‘You always look glamorous in your ATA uniform,’ Ronnie said. ‘You do as well, Suzy, in your ENSA uniform.’ She clicked her tongue. ‘I sometimes wish I was more like you two.’
‘There’s no need for you to wish such a thing,’ Suzy said. ‘You’re a true individual and we adore you as you are.’
‘So you won’t mind if I turn up in my shorts and a blouse then,’ Ronnie said, keeping a straight face. ‘Both clean and freshly ironed, of course.’
‘And give Maman a heart attack on her wedding day,’ Raine said, chuckling.
‘I very much doubt it,’ Ronnie said. ‘Haven’t you noticed? Maman only has eyes for Pierre when he’s in the room. So just think how she’ll be in church.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Raine said. ‘She likes us to look like well-brought-up young ladies.’ She put on an exaggerated posh accent for the last few words. ‘I’m not sure what she’ll say about me attending her wedding in uniform.’
‘She can’t grumble,’ Suzanne chuckled. ‘Your wings make it really special. I think she’s secretly proud of all of us. But we need to sort out our baby sister.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Ronnie said. ‘Or kiddo. Especially in front of Michael if he manages to come to the wedding.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because he’s four years older than me and I don’t want to draw attention to it.’
‘Just what you need to curb that impulsive nature of yours.’
‘Stop it, you two, and help me with what I’m supposed to wear tomorrow. It�
�s got to be something that goes with my shoes.’
And to her sisters’ open-mouthed astonishment, Ronnie produced a pair of sparkling silver high heels.
‘Gracious, Ronnie, I’ve never seen you in anything like those.’ Raine picked one up and examined it. ‘Good Lord, they’re Crockett and Jones.’ She looked up. ‘I’m really envious. They would’ve cost a fortune. Where on earth did you get them?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Ronnie said. ‘They were a gift from the owner who’d only worn them once. She said she needed to let them go and I was the only person she knew who was a size four.’
‘Ronnie,’ Raine said, her voice coated with awe, ‘these shoes are one of the most expensive makes you can buy. They’re handmade. You simply have to tell us who gave them to you. All I can say is, whoever it was must be mad to give away something so special.’
‘That’s the very word the owner used,’ Ronnie said. ‘Special. Jess brought them when she came to see me a fortnight ago, saying the owner wanted me to have them as a present and to keep them for special occasions. I told her to tell the owner they’ll be worn at Maman’s wedding. I think she’d approve of that.’
‘I shall throw you out of the room if you don’t tell us who it was.’ Raine gave her youngest sister her fiercest expression.
Ronnie deliberately paused. Then she grinned. ‘Prepare to be astonished. It was my trainer, who I’ve told you all about – Deadly Dora!’
‘What! I didn’t think she was the sort of person who’d wear something so feminine, the way you’ve always described her,’ Suzy said.
‘People aren’t always what they appear to be,’ Ronnie said, then broke into a scream of laughter. ‘I’m joking about me wearing them. They’re not me. But I know someone, and they’d be right up her street.’
‘Who?’
‘Maman, of course. Mrs Garland invited her to the shop and let her choose one of the wedding dresses but she couldn’t help with the shoes. She told Maman you couldn’t buy a pair of evening shoes for love nor money, however many coupons she’d saved, so she thinks she’s going to be married in an old pair of summer sandals. She doesn’t know it yet but I’m giving her these for a wedding present. She and I are exactly the same size. Only bad thing is – I’ll have to wear Maman’s old summer sandals in return.’