At Jones’s astonished gasp, Allie raised an arrogant eyebrow. ‘Men are human, Jones, even heroes.’
‘I don’t believe a word of it. What awful tales. I shall find Sister, she will know what to do with you.’ Nurse Jones sniffed in disapproval, an embarrassed blush creeping up her throat again.
‘Oh, sit down, Jones, and stop your twaddle.’ Allie patted the bench. ‘Let me shock you some more.’
‘I certainly will not!’
Allie laughed. ‘Go on, you’re dying to know how bad I really was in my time.’
Slowly, Jones perched herself at the edge of the bench. Her back was ramrod straight but the curiosity in her eyes could not be hidden behind her stiff affronted exterior.
Settling back more comfortably, Allie let her mind recall the happier times. ‘We met in France. I was a nursing sister, serving at a hospital unit near the front line. I was never really bothered with the men in a romantic way. I didn’t want a sweetheart. I was a spinster and no longer a young girl, an old maid, so they said, at thirty years of age. I accepted that nursing was my life and I certainly didn’t want to fall in love with any of the men in active service that came through the hospital. They were in and out so fast that to become attached to them meant suffering a broken heart over and over again. I’d seen it happen to the other nurses, plus I was a nursing sister and romantic attachments could lead to dismissal, and I couldn’t bear such a thing to happen. So, I had to be strict, even with my own heart.’
Jones nodded and leant slightly closer. ‘I understand … but you still fell in love?’
Allie smiled, recognising a romantic streak in Jones. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
‘No.’ Jones’s lashes lowered, covering the sadness in her eyes. ‘I begged my parents to become a nurse and serve our nation, after all my struggles to get my parents’ permission, well, to fall in love would make it seem worthless as nurses aren’t allowed to work once they are married and I’m only eighteen …’
‘When you fall in love you aren’t in control. Love controls you.’ Allie nodded to herself, remembering. ‘You’ll understand when it happens to you. You can’t help it or stop it, and you don’t want to.’
‘So you met Mr Hollingsworth in France?’ Jones probed.
‘He was brought in one day, during the battle of the Somme, badly injured. Even though he was in acute pain, he winked at me and said he was fine, all the while he gripped my hand so hard I thought he would crush the bones.’ Alexandria caressed the cover of her journal. ‘Somehow I managed to keep him at the casualty clearing station and he wasn’t sent down to the hospital ships. For weeks I tended to him, saw to his injuries, read the letters from home to him. As soon as he was well enough to be loaded onto the train, I took leave and went with him. We laughed and loved in a tiny hotel on the coast of France, and later we met as often as our schedules and the war allowed.’
‘Such shameful behaviour!’ Jones bristled, but Alexandria could tell it was all a performance.
‘Yes, most would agree with you, but we were in love.’
‘Was he married then?’
Allie nodded and sighed sadly. ‘We never discussed the future. We didn’t have a future; no one did then, with a war raging. Everyone lived each day as their last. I believe there are men and women doing the same right now, like we did in the last war. It can’t be helped.’
‘My father says that doesn’t excuse such behaviour.’
‘Perhaps not. Did your father serve in the last war?’
Jones straightened her shoulders even more. ‘He was a cook in one of the training camps … he never left England.’
‘A worthy occupation, but your father wouldn’t understand then. He wasn’t living our lives, being the ones in danger. We did what we did without guilt. There was no room for guilt when the next day we could be dead.’ The constant nagging pain in her side, which had been her companion for these past few months, gave her a sharp jab as a reminder that her time here was limited.
‘Well, what happened?’
‘I’m cold. I need to go inside.’
‘Yes, of course, let me help you.’ Jones rubbed her arms as the temperature had now dropped sharply. ‘Why do you write a diary about it now, after all these years?’
Allie gazed over to the lake, her mind’s eye picturing Danny rowing on it. Back home in Australia it would have been called a dam. ‘Why write it? Well, because it happened, that’s why. Our love was so strong it has lasted beyond life itself. I have to leave behind the knowledge that true love, lasting love, exists in this world gone mad.’
‘Who will read it though?’
Allie smiled softly. ‘Anyone who needs to find it will read it.’
CHAPTER TWO
Leeds, West Yorkshire
2010
Lexi O’Connor wanted to be home early this evening. It was Dylan’s thirty-third birthday and she planned to cook him something special. If she had time she even wanted to bake a cake. That alone would hopefully give them something to laugh about as they’d not laughed together in a long while.
Baking wasn’t an art form she had mastered.
Tapping her pen with one hand, Lexi hid a yawn behind the other. The meeting was dragging on and a quick glance at her watch showed it was past three o’clock.
She squirmed in her seat, her bum becoming numb. She eyed Emily, another partner in the firm of Johnson, Toole, O’Connor & McDonald. Emily smiled back and stopped jotting on her notepad. They were all meant to be listening to Cara, the senior partner, about their latest client, a new important construction company, but since Cara and maybe Fiona were the only two to deal with them, Lexi was growing bored and tired.
‘So, that should be enough information for now.’ Cara tidied up her papers at one end of the polished table. ‘If you have any concerns, I’m all ears at any time. We need this to be successful. Dealing with WhiteHold Constructions could lead to working with more influential clients.’
‘Enough to share around?’ Emily laughed, though the tone was forced, as she collected her clients’ portfolios together.
Lexi looked at her, knowing Emily’s aversion to Cara’s high reaching goals and driven work schedule. Cara was an achiever, who wanted success at all costs. Lexi turned her gaze on Cara and for the first time saw the shadows under her friend’s eyes, which were at odds with her immaculate dress standards. Cara worked too hard, expected too much from herself and everyone around her, but where had it got her? Yes, she had a successful business. Yes, she was comfortably well off financially. However, despite all that, she didn’t seem happy.
Nor did Fiona, for that matter, with her boyfriend issues. And Emily struggled to keep going, looking after her five-year-old son and her invalid mother.
Lexi frowned, these three women were her closest friends, and not one of them was truly happy. How had that happened? Two years ago when they formed the partnership they’d had such hopes and dreams of brilliant futures. They were driven, energetic, and hungry for success – Cara still was, but the others, herself included, had lost the passion somewhere and this frightened Lexi.
‘Shall we all have a drink tonight, girls?’ Cara smiled, avoiding Emily’s question. ‘There’s a new bar opened near the high street. It has some outlandish name and I suppose it’ll be hideously expensive, but we could try it.’
‘Sure.’ Fiona drank from her water bottle. ‘Richard has gone to his mother’s house for the weekend as normal. She says the boiler isn’t working. I say call a frigging plumber!’ Fiona took another swig of water. ‘Don’t know why I’m still seeing him, waste of time really. He spends more time with his mother than me. I always pick the jerks.’
Emily shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m off to the pictures with my darling son to see some movie. Though for once I’d like to go watch a movie that’s not rated PG or animated.’
‘Not me either, I’m afraid,’ said Lexi. ‘It’s Dylan’s birthday.’
She followed the women out of th
e meeting room and each sent their love to Dylan for his birthday as they went back into their own tiny offices.
After throwing her paperwork on her desk, Lexi went to stand by the window, which overlooked a concrete city. The work waiting for her in the in-tray was ignored. For some reason she couldn’t summon up the interest for it today and, if she was truthful, she’d been feeling like that for weeks. A nagging ache of unrest was lodged at the back of her mind, keeping her awake at night. It was more than just being uninterested in her work, and that was bad enough, but she couldn’t put her finger on the problem.
She gave herself a mental shake, in an attempt to snap out of her current mood. On impulse, she grabbed her suit jacket from the back of the chair, her bag from under the desk and her laptop. She closed the office door and walked down the short hall, waving goodbye to each woman at their desks as she went and wishing them a happy weekend.
She paused by reception. ‘Lindsay, divert any important calls to my mobile, please. The rest can wait until Monday. I’m going home.’
‘Sure thing. Have a good weekend.’ Lindsay, the young trendy receptionist looked up from her files. Today her hair was a two-toned colour, black and white blonde. Her fingernails were professionally painted with little flowers on the tips. Lexi was fascinated by the different looks Lindsay frequently displayed.
‘I’ll try.’
‘I’m off to Manchester with some friends for two days. We’re going on a pub crawl and seeing who can pick up the most guys.’ Lindsay bent under the desk and brought out a bright pink shopping bag. ‘Have a look at this dress.’ She withdrew a shocking blue dress that appeared to be missing its skirt.
‘It looks like a T-shirt.’ Lexi blinked, alarmed that someone would actually wear that without jeans underneath. ‘You’ll not be bending over in that,’ she added, heading for the main door.
‘Well, I might for the right fella.’ Lindsay’s peal of laughter followed Lexi down the back stairs.
Once out in the car park, Lexi searched her bag for her keys and pondered Lindsay’s outrageousness. The dress was indecent, but young women wore them these days, just like girls wore minis in the sixties.
God, she sounded old, even to her own ears. She was thirty-two not sixty-two.
When was the last time she’d worn something so short? Years!
Unlocking and climbing into her blue Mini Cooper, she wondered why she had stopped wearing slinky dresses. Now, when she went out to dinner or to a party, she wore tailored slacks or a long skirt. Why? She had a good figure, nice legs. When did she begin dressing so conservatively? The answer was simple. Two years ago when she became Cara’s business partner. She’d also hit thirty and started behaving like someone over fifty.
Lexi stared out of the windscreen. Her mother was more fashion conscious than she was. Her sister-in-law – a woman with two small children, two dogs, a cat, three fish, a husband, and who attended women’s meetings, was president of the local community neighbourhood watch and hosted Sunday family lunches – still had time to look young and attractive. Lexi did none of this and felt old and worn and … empty.
Sudden tears blinded her. Oh shit, she was falling apart. She started the engine and wiped her face. She hated to think she was depressed, but something was definitely not right with her. Was she menopausal? Was she going through the change of life early? Women did, all the time. Some turned thirty and that was it, they were on hormone drugs for the next forty years. The thought made her chest tighten. Perhaps she should see a doctor.
Backing out of the car parking space, Lexi sniffed away the ridiculous emotions. She had to pull herself together. What was wrong with her? She had a gorgeous husband, even if she rarely saw him, a great career, even if it bored her at times. She had her family, who loved her, and her health. So why was she crying while driving down the M1?
At Junction 39, she turned off and headed for the southern part of Wakefield and the flat she shared with Dylan. In the rear-view mirror she scowled at her hair. It needed washing and another cut. The original chin-length bob was no longer chin-length, but actually touching her collar. One-handed, she pulled the sides up. Dylan liked her hair up in clips. She should book into the hairdressers for a cut and a colour, too. Something fresh to lighten the dark brown, maybe toffee highlights.
Waiting at traffic lights, she spied the signpost for Walton. Her fingers itched on the indicator and abruptly she had turned it on and was inching out of the traffic for the turning. She could get to her flat going this way, but it was a longer route. She assumed Dylan would be home late from the hospital, birthday or no birthday, so she had time.
Slowing down, she pulled onto the side of the road and rang Dylan’s mobile. Despite telling him yesterday she was cooking him a birthday meal, he’d still likely forget.
As usual his mobile rang directly to his voicemail. She waited for the beep to leave her message. ‘Hi, babe, it’s me. Don’t forget I’m cooking dinner tonight. I’ve left work early. See if you can too. Hope your day was good and not too exhausting. Bye, love you.’ She hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. On the road again, she drove the old way home and wasn’t surprised when she came to the place she frequently drove past even when there was no need to come this way.
Lexi slowly applied the brakes. Peering through the trees, she frowned with impatience at not being able to see the old house clearly. A large ‘For Sale’ sign heralded the driveway entrance.
‘Not sold yet,’ she whispered, relieved. She bit her lip, trying hard not to feel guilty at the pleasure that no one had bought it yet. Every time she passed by the rusted gates of this old house she experienced something emotional, and today, being strangely overly sensitive, was no different.
As if directed by an invisible force, she turned off the road and into the tree-lined drive. It was wrong to trespass, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to take a closer look. Her heart swelled and daydreams filled her mind as the drive swept in an arc until Hollingsworth House loomed before her in all its old world splendour – a two-storey Georgian example of a bygone era. Tall, newly-leafed silver birch trees stood proud in a large overgrown lawn broken by garden beds equally neglected. Still, none of it diminished the aura of grandeur.
Lexi switched the engine off and sat admiring the front entrance. Yes, it was looking sad, in need of work, but it exuded style and, with tender care, she knew that one day it would shine once more.
After leaving the car, she ambled through the ruined garden. Daffodils valiantly struggled through the weeds. In her mind’s eyes she could see it as it once was. Alive with activity, clipped hedges, glorious landscaped lawns, flowers bursting with colour and fragrance.
At each window, she stopped and peeked in at rooms laid bare: fireplaces stood empty, cold. However, she could envision the house full of antique furniture and the smell of beeswax polish. The front door needed sanding and repainting, and she guessed all the woodwork inside would be in a similar state. So much work, so much money, but she felt peaceful whenever she was here. The house spoke to her like nothing had done before. Instinct whispered that this place was right for her.
If only Dylan would agree.
She turned and walked back towards the drive. She was mad to think she could actually buy this place. It would cost a small fortune to make it habitable again. Dylan would have a fit, but then lately he argued with her about everything. They both worked long hours in stressful jobs and whenever they saw each other squabbles erupted over things not being done, like the clothes not being collected from the drycleaners or the bills unpaid.
When had she and Dylan stopped laughing? When had they ceased taking picnics or making love in the shower? Where had their youth gone?
She’d spent all her adult years studying and then working as a solicitor and he had done the same to become a specialist oncologist. But what did they have to show for it? Stress. Holidays spent apart. No children. Sometimes they went for weeks without sleeping together.
Why then, when her life had gone down the toilet, did she insist on looking at this house? What would buying this old place do for her?
Miserable and frustrated, she shook her head. She was the biggest fool.
Back at her car, she paused and looked up at the grand house. Its mullioned windows seemed to beckon her, but she resisted the urge to peep through them again. She’d been here for over an hour already.
Lexi jumped guiltily at the sound of a car coming up the driveway. She blushed furiously at being caught out, she had thought the place abandoned. Amazement was mixed with relief when she recognised Dylan’s car as it swept round the bend in the drive.
Hiding her surprise, she went to meet him as he slowed his car. ‘Hello. What are you doing here?’
He leant out the window. ‘I came this way because of road works. Good thing I did too. I saw your car from the road. What are you doing here? Have you broken down?’ His puzzled expression went from her to the car and back again as he got out of his car.
She hesitated. ‘No.’
His hazel eyes narrowed. ‘What are you doing then?’
‘I just came to have a look.’
‘Again?’ A scowl altered his handsome face. ‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘It’s a nice old place.’
‘It’s a money pit. We’ve talked about this numerous times, Lexi. Why can’t you let it go? We can’t afford it and we don’t need a house this size.’ His mobile phone rang and he turned it off and threw it through the open window into the car. ‘Won’t they ever leave me alone? Christ, I just left the place.’
‘A tough day?’
‘The worst.’ He ran a hand over his head, sighing, and she noticed his dark brown hair had a few grey ones. When did they appear?
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