‘Perhaps the will to live is stronger than the one to die?’ Tears gathered behind her lids, burning.
‘You’ve been told of my … foolishness?’
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry I was the cause of it.’
‘Don’t be.’ He winced as he swallowed. ‘I’ve brains of my own.’
A scalding tear trickled down her cheek.
‘Why do you cry? I’m not dead yet.’
Pippa threw back her head, blinking away the tears. ‘That wasn’t kind, Gil.’
His chest heaved with an inward sigh. ‘Kindness has been stripped from me.’
She clenched her jaw with the effort not to retort and say something she’d regret.
His hand moved again and touched her skirts. ‘I’m sorry. I’m an ass.’
‘I never meant to hurt you.’
‘I know.’ His gaze held hers.
The room lightened as morning broke. Birds began their daylight chorus. In the attics above their heads, the servant girls awoke to a new day.
Squaring her shoulders, Pippa looked down on him and forced herself to be efficient because crying wouldn’t help win him back. ‘You must get better.’
‘Must I?’
‘Yes. I … we … that is—’
He turned his face away to stare blindly at the door. ‘You should go. I’ll sleep for a bit.’
Pippa closed her eyes, her courage withering away. ‘Gil.’
‘Don’t, Pip. I … cannot … stand it …’
Emotion closed her throat, but she had to speak. Had to make him see and believe what she felt. ‘Will you marry me?’ she whispered.
Ever so slowly, he turned to stare at her. His eyes were cold emerald gems in a red, flushed face. His throat worked. ‘Don’t you pity me!’
Her chin trembled. ‘I do not pity you.’
‘Go away, Pip, please. I haven’t the strength …’ Tears spilt over his lashes and her heart shattered into razor-sharp pieces.
‘I love you, Gil.’ Her words rushed out, tumbling over themselves. ‘I think I’ve always loved you, but I didn’t see it until I thought it was too late.’ She grabbed his hot hand and held it tight. ‘You must forgive me, Gil. I am nothing without you. My life is nothing without you in it.’ Her tears splashed onto their joined hands.
‘I am not enough for you. I know that.’
She jerked closer to him, eager to dispel his beliefs. ‘You’re wrong, very wrong.’
He sighed deeply. ‘What of Lindfield, your revenge, your need for money?’
‘It means nothing, and not important any more. I’ve seen sense. I know what is important now. You are everything to me. Everything.’
‘Are you certain?’ He tensed. ‘For I couldn’t … go through it again …’
‘Shh.’ Cradling his hand against her wet cheek, she gazed at him. ‘You once said to me that you wanted me as your friend, your lover, your wife, the mother of your children. I wish it, too.’
‘But—’
‘And now I ask you the same. Will you be my friend, lover, husband, and father of my children?’
‘My Pip …’ The old wry smile that was his alone appeared. He touched her bottom lip with the tip of his finger, making her catch her breath. ‘I’m unable to fulfil all those roles at the moment … but it’ll be fun ticking them off my list.’
She grinned through her tears and kissed his hand, wishing he were well enough for her to kiss properly. Still, they had time. They had the rest of their lives. ‘I love you, Gil Ashford.’
Gil relaxed against his pillows, exhausted. ‘I’m rather pleased about that, since I adore you, Philippa Noble.’
* THE END *
We’d love to hear how you enjoyed Where Rainbows End. Please leave a review on the eBook store where you purchased this novel. Reviews on retail sites really do help the author. Thank you!
Thank you
I hope you enjoyed reading Where Rainbows End.
Authors have to wait a long time before we know if our story is well received. First there is the writing of it, then the editing, then the publishing of the book and finally it’s with trepidation and excitement that we announce its release. I always hope the public is taken away to another place when they read one of my books. My job is to provide entertainment and an escape from the real world for a while. Fingers crossed I’ve done that successfully with Where Rainbows End.
I am, therefore, extremely grateful and humbled when a kind person takes some time out of their day to post a review online and lets me know they liked my story and my characters. One sentence is all it takes to make an author feel like they’ve done a good job.
So, if you do wish to leave a short review online, I will see it (authors always check reviews) and I will do a little happy dance (sad but true) and thank you from the bottom of my heart. You will have made this author very happy indeed (when I am happy, my husband is happy, when he is happy he cooks wonderful meals! – see the knock on effect one lovely review can do? :)
I’m happy to chat to readers on social media or via email, so drop me a line anytime. My contact details are in my bio.
Thank you again,
AnneMarie Brear
About the Author
AnneMarie has been a life-long reader and started writing in 1997 when her children were small. She has a love of history, of grand old English houses and a fascination of what might have happened beyond their walls. Her interests include reading, genealogy, watching movies, spending time with family and eating chocolate – not always in that order!
AnneMarie grew up in Australia but now lives in the UK.
Where Rainbows End is AnneMarie’s second novel published with Choc Lit. Her first novel was Where Dragonflies Hover, which is now available as an eBook and in paperback
Follow AnneMarie:
www.annemariebrear.com
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Twitter: @annemariebrear
More Choc Lit
From AnneMarie Brear
Where Dragonflies Hover
Sometimes a glimpse into the past can help make sense of the future …
Everyone thinks Lexi is crazy when she falls in love with Hollingsworth House – a crumbling old Georgian mansion in Yorkshire – and nobody more so than her husband, Dylan. But there’s something very special about the place, and Lexi can sense it.
Whilst exploring the grounds she stumbles across an old diary and, within its pages, she meets Allie – an Australian nurse working in France during the First World War.
Lexi finally realises her dream of buying Hollingsworth but her obsession with the house leaves her marriage in tatters. In the lonely nights that follow, Allie’s diary becomes Lexi’s companion, comforting her in moments of darkness and pain. And as Lexi reads, the nurse’s scandalous connection to the house is revealed …
Read an extract here.
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Read a preview of Where Dragonflies Hover next …
Preview
Where Dragonflies Hover
by AnneMarie Brear
CHAPTER ONE
Wakefield, West Yorkshire
1945
Alexandria Jamieson rested the book and pen on her lap and watched the shadows from nearby trees pass over the garden until the dull pain in her side receded. The sun was setting, but the surprising early warmth of the spring day remained, comforting her as she sat on the timber bench. March was usually still cold in the north, but today had been an exception and she’d left her room eagerly to feel the sun on her face.
Slowly, she shifted her position to catch the last of the sunrays and waited for the pain to return, but only a slight niggle in her stomach lingered. It amazed her that for over sixty years she’d been as healthy as a horse, and now, within a space of mere months, her body had turned on her. Well, there was nothing she could do about that, but to wait for the end, and while she did she would write.
Gently fiddling with the yellow flower brooch she wore, Allie gazed over to the small lake, separated from her by a lush lawn edged with flowerbeds that were once filled with nodding daffodils, jonquils and snowdrops, but now were replaced with vegetables. Oh, she could well imagine the parties that had been held on the lawn – the laughter, the gaiety. All gone now and replaced with the human debris of a Second World War.
A few men lingered near the water, happy to be doing nothing but watching dragonflies hover. A young soldier in a wheelchair fed the ducks while Major Donaldson lay on the grass reading a book, one of Dickens’ it was, plucked from the house’s abundant library. He’d be gone soon, his broken arm mended and fit for war again. Though she doubted his mind would ever be. She heard his screams at night. Further away, near the outbuildings, old soldiers from the Great War and wounded young soldiers from this current war dug in the soil together, planting seeds and weeding the rows. Birds twittered in the trees and Allie closed her eyes for a moment.
Such a peaceful setting – quiet and beautiful. No one would guess that hundreds of miles from here men were killing each other – again.
How had it happened? Another world war? Hadn’t the first one taken enough lives? Didn’t the men in politics, those with power, learn anything from the war fought only twenty-odd years ago? Who would have believed the colossal carnage and suffering could blight the world once more. Was everyone mad?
Soft music from the conservatory floated out from the house behind her. She smiled. Captain Flannery had obviously begged access to the piano. She didn’t understand why Matron wouldn’t let him play more often. His music comforted the men. But then she knew first-hand how matrons behaved. When she had been in the nursing service she’d known when to bend the rules. Chuckling, she sat up straighter and stroked the book’s leather cover. How many rules had she bent until they broke?
For a moment her mind stilled, grew foggy. She frowned, gathering her strength to deal with the unknown. Her hand on the diary shook. The pen she held slipped, but she gripped harder, refusing to let it go. This, her memories in a diary, was all she had – all that was left to her. The years rolled away. Death, slaughter, struggle and hardship threatened to overwhelm her. Danny was calling for her in his sleep. Or was he? She shook her head, puzzled, dazed.
Damn medication! She’d have to stop taking it if she wanted to finish her writing. It was not as if the pills would allow her to live longer, no pills stopped cancer. Besides, she was tired, tired of being alone. Danny was waiting …
Taking a slow, deep breath, she relaxed and forced herself to concentrate on writing once more and letting the memories flow onto the page. Within moments she was lost again; lost to a world that, although once familiar, seemed foreign now. Her pen scrawled across the paper becoming faster and faster. She had to hurry. There wasn’t much time left. With every second it became harder to know for sure she was doing the right thing. Would anyone care or even want to read it? She was nothing special after all -.only an old Australian nurse who never went home.
‘Miss Jamieson?’
Startled, Allie looked up at the approaching nurse. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s time to go in now. Tea is being served.’
‘But I’m not finished.’ She shivered. A cool breeze had sprung up without her knowing. The sun had set lower down behind the house and threw long shadows. ‘I’ll go inside soon. I have so much more to write.’
‘There is always tomorrow.’
‘No, there isn’t.’ Allie stared at the nurse, remembering when she had been that young, that starched, that fresh. It seemed a thousand years ago. ‘You’re new here, aren’t you? Jones, isn’t it?’
The nurse, tweaking her skirt, sat stiffly on the bench next to her. She hardly looked old enough to wear the uniform. ‘Yes, I’m Nurse Jones and I’ve only been here a week.’
‘You’ll do fine if you listen to your instincts and use good common sense. I remember my first posting, though it was to a large hospital in Sydney, not a—’
‘Sydney?’
‘Australia. I was born there. I actually came from a small country town, all dust and flies it was, but I went to Sydney to train as a nurse. My mother always said that to do something you must try and do it the best you can. I couldn’t be a nurse in my little town, which was nothing more than a main street and a few pubs. So I went to Sydney. Scared to death I was, I can tell you.’
‘Was it difficult? The training, I mean.’ Jones frowned, a worried look stealing across her face. ‘Some days I just can’t seem to do anything right. Everything I learn one day is gone from my head the next day.’
‘You’re completely normal, my dear. It happened to us all.’
Relief shone in Jones’s eyes briefly. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Matron calls me a dolt and gives me cleaning duties. How can I learn anything if all I’m doing is washing floors?’
Allie smiled at her. ‘You’ll work your way up, believe me. At the hospital in Sydney I lost count of how much scrubbing I did, and in summer … heavens, we’d be wet through with sweat and have to change our uniforms twice a day.’
‘How did you end up here in England?’
‘I left when the war started, the First World War that is. I nursed on a troop ship in the waters off Egypt, before heading to France.’
‘Why aren’t you in Australia now? Didn’t you want to go back?’
‘When I sailed, my parents were already dead. I had nothing to go back to.’
‘I see.’ Jones fiddled with her stiff uniform collar. ‘I was told you sit out here most days and that you’ve been writing your memoirs for some time now.’
‘Indeed. I have a lot to tell. I promised Danny I’d record our life together.’ Allie leant back and raised her face up to the coral-streaked sky. High in the clouds three fighter planes flew in an arrow formation and she wondered if they were heading across the Channel.
‘Danny was your husband?’
Tossing her head, Allie gave a brief smile. ‘No, he never was that, sadly.’ She cradled the book to her chest, its leather cover reassuring.
‘He was your fiancé?’
‘No, he wasn’t that either. He was simply my lover.’
Nurse Jones gasped and a blush crept up her neck above the stiff white collar. ‘You had a lover?’ she whispered, guiltily looking around as though they spoke of government secrets.
‘We felt married.’ Danny’s image rose before her, resplendent in his service uniform. ‘He was the man of my dreams, with movie star looks and the charm of a gallant knight.’ She peeped at the disbelieving face of Nurse Jones. ‘Do you think a man who owned all this grand estate could be ugly? Heroes are always good looking, and he was a hero, a marvellous man.’
Jones chuckled and shook her head, then quickly sobered, a frown creasing her pale skin. ‘This
estate? Do you mean …’
‘Daniel Hollingsworth.’
‘Nay, I don’t believe you.’ Jones sat straighter, suddenly businesslike and efficient, but her stiff shoulders softened a little. ‘Are you telling me you knew Mr Hollingsworth well?’
‘Danny loved me.’
‘I’ve seen his portrait in the hall. He was a looker all right.’
‘I remember when that was painted. He sat for his portrait in London. I used to go and watch sometimes, but I made him laugh and the artist was most put out.’
Nurse Jones scowled and looked at her strangely, her attitude slightly patronising. ‘I read about the family’s history in the staff room. The Daniel Hollingsworth who owned this place was married to Irene Rowlings. But you were his mistress?’
Allie blinked rapidly, rejecting the sliver of pain that always came when Irene’s name was mentioned. Even now, so many years later. ‘Don’t you know I’m the scarlet woman of Hollingsworth House?’
Shocked, Nurse Jones bristled and lifted her chin higher. ‘We’ll have none of that talk, thank you very much. Matron will be most unhappy.’ She stood and took Allie’s elbow. ‘Let us be going inside now.’
Allie raised her eyebrows. She knew people thought it was a story she made up. ‘You don’t believe me?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind, not many people do. They take one look at me and see an old woman, but once, once I was young and beautiful and in love. That’s why I have to write it down.’
‘Mr Hollingsworth was a military hero in the Great War. He won medals. Afterwards he became a Member of Parliament!’
‘Yet, despite this, he loved me, Alexandria Jamieson, an Australian nurse with no family. A nobody.’
‘Nonsense, I don’t believe it. Your mind is playing tricks on you.’
Allie jerked her elbow out of the nurse’s grip. ‘I may be old, my body is past its best and I have one foot in the grave, and, yes, my mind does fail me at times, but let me assure you of one thing, Nurse Jones, Daniel Hollingsworth and I were lovers.’
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