Whispers of Love
Page 1
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
About the Author
Also by Rosie Harris
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
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Epub ISBN 9781407069982
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published by Arrow Books 2010
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Copyright © Rosie Harris 2010
Rosie Harris has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by Arrow Books
Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London, SW1V 2SA
www.rbooks.co.uk
Addresses for companies within The Random House Group Limited can be found at: www.randomhouse.co.uk/offices.htm
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099527428
Typeset in Palatino by Palimpsest Book Production Limited Grangemouth, Stirlingshire Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading, RG1 8EX
To Stefano and Giulia Zappia
Whispers
of Love
Rosie Harris was born in Cardiff and grew up there and in the West Country. After her marriage she resided for some years on Merseyside before moving to Buckinghamshire where she still lives. She has three grown-up children, six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, and writes full time. Whispers of Love is her twenty-first novel for Arrow.
Also by Rosie Harris
Turn of the Tide
Troubled Waters
Patsy of Paradise Place
One Step Forward
Looking for Love
Pins & Needles
Winnie of the Waterfront
At Sixes & Sevens
The Cobbler’s Kids
Sunshine and Showers
Megan of Merseyside
The Power of Dreams
A Mother’s Love
Sing for Your Supper
Waiting for Love
Love Against All Odds
A Dream of Love
A Love Like Ours
Love Changes Everything
The Quality of Love
Acknowledgements
Once again my sincere thanks to all at Random House, especially my wonderful editor Georgina Hawtrey-Woore for all her help and patience, and to my agent Caroline Sheldon.
Chapter One
June 1914
A tall, slim figure in a light-blue summer coat and matching blue straw cloche hat pulled down over her dark hair, Christabel Montgomery, her vivid blue eyes clouded with tears, stared unseeingly into the grey, turbulent waters of the Mersey.
It was only a few weeks earlier that she had stood at the very same spot on the Liverpool quayside waving goodbye to her fiancé, Philip Henderson, and now the cold, murky waters had claimed him for their own.
It was all so unreal that it was unbelievable. She had been so excited planning their wedding. Her sister Lilian was to be her bridesmaid, her brother Lewis, best man, and all her family, and Philip’s, as well as their friends, were to be there to celebrate the occasion.
They’d waited so long to get married because her father had consistently refused to give his permission and no matter how hard she’d pleaded with him, he’d refused to change his mind. He’d insisted that she must wait until she came of age in September.
Even though she was the eldest daughter, her parents seemed to be reluctant for her to grow up. Much as she loved them both she was tired of having to stay home to help her mother and of being treated the same as Lilian, who was almost six years younger than she was.
‘Getting married is not the answer,’ Mabel Montgomery had told her dryly when she said she was aching for independence and the chance to lead her own life.
‘All you will be doing is changing one authority for another. You may be free from us, but once you are married, you will be expected to conform to your husband’s wishes.’
That would be very different, though, Christabel had replied. Philip was only a couple of years older than she was and they had so much in common. They were kindred spirits and not only shared the same views on most things but also enjoyed the same activities.
After a long discussion with Philip’s parents, James and Hilda Henderson, who were old family friends and very much in favour of the marriage, Basil Montgomery had finally, if somewhat reluctantly, given his consent.
Preparations had gone ahead for the wedding to take place on Philip’s next shore leave which was due in September a few days after her twenty-first birthday, the same month.
She gave a deep shuddering sigh as she thought of all the plans they had made. Still she couldn’t believe that none of it would happen and that she would never see Philip again or feel his arms round her, his lips on hers, tender yet demanding.
His parents were beside themselves with grief because there wouldn’t even be a funeral. All on board had gone down with the ship and not a single body had been recovered.
The raucous scream of the gulls circling overhead echoed in her head and they seemed to be mocking her. As she left the quayside she shivered and turned up the collar of her coat. The greyness of the Mersey had depressed her and, even though it was June, the keen breeze coming off it had chilled her to the bone.
As she walked away a lump came to her throat as she reflected on the last day she and Philip had spent together. Because of her father’s strict code of behaviour she had never b
efore permitted Philip to consummate their love and, eager though he was to do so, he had always respected her wishes. With their wedding date set for only a very short time away, however, they had both given way to temptation.
Although Philip had always been very romantic and demonstrative, as well as tender and affectionate, their lovemaking that day had been a revelation to her. It had brought her such a wonderful feeling of unity and joy that she could hardly bear to be parted from him afterwards. It was only the thought that very soon they would be together for ever that had consoled her.
Now the future without Philip there to share it with her stretched ahead like a blank canvas. There would be no wedding, no more love-making, nothing to plan for or look forward to. She hadn’t thought that there might be any adverse consequences but now she felt apprehensive about what they’d done. Was it her imagination, or did the queasiness she felt each morning have something to do with their love-making?
Once away from the Pier Head she felt more in control of her feelings. Although it was overcast and the sun was hidden behind hazy clouds, it was reasonably warm and she straightened the collar of her coat as she walked up Water Street.
On impulse, she made her way to Church Street in the heart of the city, looking around her with interest. She’d never been allowed to have a job but now she thought it might be time to do something positive. It was the only way that she could still make an independent life for herself now that she had lost Philip. Furthermore, it would be better than brooding over the cruel blow fate had dealt her, she thought wryly.
She wandered in and out of the many stores, wondering what it would be like to work in one of them. Her father would probably be horrified; her mother possibly might approve but only if it was one of the high-class establishments in Bold Street.
Christabel felt rather self-conscious as she went into the Kardomah Café. She had never done anything like that before but she was feeling famished. She ordered a pot of tea and a buttered scone and felt very adventurous to be doing so on her own.
As she watched the waitress busily taking orders and serving customers, she wondered if she could do something of this sort, but quickly rejected the idea. Her father would most certainly not approve. He’d be quick to point out that he had spent a lot of money making sure she had a good education and that a job of this kind was not much better than working as a maidservant.
She wondered what sort of work he would consider suitable. When they’d first taken on a lady clerk in his office at the shipping company where he was a partner, he had been incensed but his partner had been adamant that it was far cheaper than employing a man, so eventually he had accepted her.
She toyed with the idea of asking him if she could go and work for him then quickly rejected the idea, realising that if she did that she wouldn’t be independent. He would still be able to exert his authority over her and that was exactly what she wanted to free herself from.
By the time she reached home again her feelings of inadequacy and despondency had returned and she went straight to her room. She knew her mother would be expecting her to take afternoon tea in the drawing room, but the thought of having to sit and listen to her mother’s friends and their platitudes about her loss made her decide to stay where she was.
When their maid, Mary, came knocking on her door to tell her that her mother was waiting for her, she sent a message back to say she wished to be excused because she had a headache and was lying down.
In her darkened room, Christabel lay on her bed and concentrated on thinking about her future. She had felt queasy again that morning and it worried her. She wished Lewis was at home; he was three years older than her and had always been willing to discuss anything that was troubling her and to offer good advice. It was useless talking to Lilian because she was far too young to understand.
By the time the gong went for dinner she was dressed and ready to face her parents with her ultimatum.
They both listened in silence, exchanging concerned glances with each other as she outlined what she planned to do.
‘I think you should give this idea a great deal more thought,’ her father stated pompously. ‘Your idea of becoming a nurse is a hysterical reaction because you have lost Philip. We do understand.’
‘It is nothing of the sort,’ she told him hotly.
‘Christabel, you have no experience of being out in the world. Nursing may appear to be a very worthwhile occupation, but I can assure you it is not something you will enjoy doing. It’s not simply a matter of dressing up in a cap and apron, you know. You would soon discover that you have to do some very distasteful jobs, and that’s presuming you could find a hospital that would employ you.’
‘And the kind of people you might have to look after are not at all the sort of people you are used to coming into contact with, darling,’ Mabel Montgomery shuddered.
‘Think of all the blood,’ Lilian exclaimed dramatically, screwing up her round, pretty face in horror.
‘I know all that,’ Christabel conceded, ‘but there is probably going to be a war very soon and a great many more nurses will be needed so I imagine they will be crying out for people to join them to care for the soldiers when they are brought home injured.’
‘That may be true,’ her father admitted, ‘there very well might be a war. If there is, then they will want experienced nurses in the military hospitals; women who are strong enough to deal not only with men who may have lost an arm or a leg but also with those who have suffered disfigurement or other gruesome injuries.’
‘All the more reason for me to do something about it right away and get some proper training before the war really gets started,’ Christabel said, her mouth tightening stubbornly.
‘I am sure your intentions are very worthy,’ her mother said worriedly, ‘but I don’t really think that Philip would have approved of you becoming a nurse, do you?’
‘I think he would have been very proud of me; it is because of him that I have decided that it’s the right thing to do. He would think it was far better for me to be doing something so very worthwhile than to be sitting around moping over what has happened to him,’ Christabel defended.
‘Oh, my poor girl; I’m afraid you are only talking like this because of the shock and grief you’ve suffered.’ Mabel sighed. ‘Leave things as they are for a few months and I am sure we can find some other little job you can do; something far more suitable. Now ring the bell for Mary to come and clear the dishes away, darling.’
‘Your mother is right,’ Basil boomed. He took a sip of his wine. ‘What about the three of you – Lilian, your mother and you – all going on a pleasant cruise for a couple of weeks?’
‘A cruise after Philip has been drowned at sea? Do you think I could bring myself to travel on a boat after that?’ Christabel asked aghast, her blue eyes flashing angrily.
Mabel laid a cautionary finger on her lips as her husband was about to reply and signalled with her head towards Mary, who had entered the room and was clearing the table.
They talked about inconsequential matters until she’d cleared away their main course and served desert and coffee, then once again Basil Montgomery picked up the threads of their discussion.
This time he went into considerable detail about the strict routine that going out to work would entail. ‘It’s not only a matter of punctuality, or the length of time you would be expected to work, but also about conforming to the instructions you would receive and the duties that would be expected of you,’ he emphasised.
‘I am well aware of all that,’ Christabel assured him. ‘I know it would be a very different way of life from the one I am used to, but I feel it would be far more worthwhile.’
‘Well, I am of the opinion that in no time at all you would find it most distasteful,’ he told her as he stirred a spoonful of brown sugar into his coffee.
‘Not if I am convinced that what I am doing is necessary and of some importance,’ Christabel insisted.
‘Becoming a n
urse and being at the beck and call of doctors and patients can hardly be considered to be of very much importance,’ he told her disparagingly.
Their argument continued for the rest of the evening, becoming more and more heated until Mabel declared she could stand it no longer and they must desist, and talk about something else, or she would be forced to go to bed.
‘There’s no need for you to do that, Mother,’ Christabel told her. ‘I’m going up to my room so that I can do something positive about my decision. I intend to write a letter to the matron of our nearby hospital – the Wallasey Cottage Hospital in Liscard Road – and ask if she will employ me.’
‘She’ll probably tell you that with your lack of experience you are only suitable to be a ward maid or a cleaner of some sort,’ her father told her scathingly.
Christabel hesitated, wondering if it would be better to tell them the truth, which was that she thought she might be expecting Philip’s baby, rather than take such a dramatic step as leaving home. Then the thought of how shocked they both would be deterred her.
After all, she told herself, I might not be pregnant. Feeling unwell might be a reaction to the news of Philip’s death.
A week later, when war was much more of a possibility and most people realised that it seemed to be inevitable, her father seemed to relent somewhat.
‘If you are still insisting on this headstrong idea of becoming a nurse, perhaps you would like me to make some enquiries for you?’ he offered.
‘There’s no need, as I have already applied,’ Christabel told him, ‘and I received a letter this morning to say that my name was forwarded to the matron of a new hospital which is being opened at Hilbury.’
‘Hilbury?’ He frowned, ‘Where on earth is that?’
‘Somewhere between Liverpool and South-port,’ Christabel said as she scanned the letter she was holding. ‘It is being made ready to receive casualties should there be a war. It also says that they would like me to report there for an interview and they have sent a map to show me how to get there.’