Sally disapproved. She said cattily that Miranda was being ‘fast’, but snooty and jealous as she was, she wasn’t the kind to tell tales. Belle found it hard not to be jealous herself. To see her friend with shining eyes and a dreamy expression reminded her of the way she used to feel about Etienne, and she guiltily wondered why it was she was remembering her feelings for him, and not for Jimmy.
‘What’s this bloke of Miranda’s like then?’ David asked Belle one morning as they were taking their first trip to the station to collect new patients.
‘What do you mean?’ Belle said cagily. She hadn’t told a soul about Miranda’s man, and she didn’t think the other girls would have told anyone about it either.
‘Don’t be daft, I could see something had happened the day after you slipped out to Calais,’ he grinned. ‘You looked troubled and she was skipping about like a new lamb. It don’t take much to put two and two together.’
Belle saw no point in lying to David. He was a good sort and he was always discreet. ‘Well, keep it under your cap. American, very handsome, a nice man. He’s a sergeant.’
‘A Dough Boy, eh?’ he said. ‘Well, tell him from me to get the rest of the Yanks in and help us end this bloody war.’
‘They are coming, or so it is said,’ Belle said. ‘He won’t get so much free time to see Miranda then.’
‘Why are you so troubled about it if he’s decent?’
‘Well, she has gone rather overboard,’ Belle sighed; she was rather glad to have someone to confide in. ‘I’m scared she’ll get sent home or it won’t work out for them.’
‘No good being a worry-wart about it,’ he shrugged. ‘If I met a girl that made me glow the way Miranda does, I’d walk over hot coals to be with her. Besides, isn’t the reason you came here to be closer to your old man?’
Belle nodded agreement, but she felt a stab of shame that it wasn’t true. She hadn’t even thought to ask Captain Taylor if it was possible to have a couple of days off to meet Jimmy somewhere. Why hadn’t she?
A couple of nights later, Miranda was doing her hair in readiness for going out to meet Will, when Belle came into the hut, her oilskin coat dripping with rain. She said nothing, just took off her coat, hung it on a peg by the door and then bent down to take off her boots.
The other four girls were clustered up at the other end of the hut. They looked up and gave Belle a wave, which she returned, and then she got her towel to dry her wet hair. It seemed to Miranda that Belle was deliberately ignoring her.
‘Are you cross with me?’ she asked when Belle finally sat down on her bed.
‘Of course I’m not,’ she replied, looking surprised at the question. ‘Why would I be?’
‘I thought perhaps it was because I’m always going out with Will these days and leaving you on your own.’
‘I don’t mind that, Vera is good company too,’ Belle said. ‘We’ve become quite close.’
Miranda felt that was a snub. ‘I don’t want to lose you as a friend,’ she said.
Belle laughed. ‘It will take more than a man to shake me off,’ she said.
Miranda breathed a sigh of relief. Belle wouldn’t make a joke of it if she was cross.
‘You see, we have to make the most of it now. He could be sent off somewhere else at any time.’ Miranda felt she had to explain herself.
Ever since she was about sixteen she’d longed for the kind of love she’d read about in books. She’d been a bridesmaid three times and all of those marriages had been more about the bride finding a suitable partner her family approved of than being ecstatically in love. By the time she met Frank she had begun to believe love might not even exist.
But after all the hurt Frank caused her she had begun to think maybe it was best just to settle for a kind, decent man who she could trust and rely on. But then Will came along, just when she least expected to find romance, and all at once she knew with utter certainty that he was the man she’d always hoped for.
Everything was so right with him; they could talk about anything, laughed at the same things. He made her heart soar, he was on her mind from first thing in the morning till she fell asleep at night. But best of all, she knew he felt just the same about her. The war made the future uncertain, but she was certain of Will. This was the love she had always hoped for.
Yet however much he dominated her thoughts and dreams, she never wanted to lose Belle’s friendship. She was far too special, and Miranda was ashamed that she might have been neglecting her.
Belle leaned over and put a cold, damp hand on Miranda’s arm. ‘I understand, and I’m happy for you,’ she said. ‘Just be careful. Keep something in reserve.’
Miranda glanced around the room to check no one was listening, but Sally was reading, Vera was darning some socks and Honor and Maud were playing chess.
‘We haven’t done it yet,’ she whispered. ‘Is that what you’re worried about?’
Belle sniggered. ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I’m hardly the right person to come all moral on you. I’m just afraid you are going too fast, too soon.’
‘It might be a bit late to warn me of that. Captain Taylor said I could have this Sunday off and Will’s taking me somewhere overnight.’
When Belle didn’t respond, Miranda caught hold of her hand. ‘I know you think I’m being reckless, but I love him, Belle. Really love him. He loves me too.’
Belle smiled at her. ‘I do understand, and I’m certainly not sitting in judgment. If I were in your shoes I’d probably do just the same,’ she said. ‘But why are you loitering here if he’s waiting for you now? And you’d better put my coat on, you’ll get soaked through otherwise.’
Miranda left the hut a few minutes later, the oilskin coat over her head. She took the road out of the hospital grounds, then, as usual, some hundred yards before the main gates she slipped down a path between two wards until she came to the fence and climbed through a hole in it.
She had found this way out some time ago, knowing that if she used the main gates the sentry there was likely to report her. Will waited in the car close by, shielded by some thick bushes. As always when she met him she was fizzing with excitement. Even when she was having the affair with Frank she hadn’t felt quite this way, but then she’d never felt as if she really knew him.
Will was quite different. He was warm, open and dependable, always there at the arranged time, and he hadn’t pushed her to have sex with him, even though he said that every time they kissed it was like the 4th of July. She really liked that description, it felt like fireworks exploding to her too; she had only to touch his hand and she wanted him. In truth it was only the fear of getting pregnant again which had held her back so far.
Her mother wasn’t likely to approve of any man unless he had blue blood or was very rich. And Will’s family in Philadelphia were totally undistinguished. His father had been one of thousands of poor Irish who had emigrated to America in the late 1800s and had married the daughter of Italian immigrants a couple of years later and produced five children of whom Will was the eldest. His father had a small building company, and he’d wanted Will to work with him, but although Will had for a few years, he’d joined the regular army when his younger brother was old enough to take over. Will had said he had his eye on a bigger horizon than just bricklaying.
But although from humble origins, Will was a gentleman. He treated Miranda with great tenderness and respect and he seemed to like everything about her. No one had ever done that before, not even her own family. She wanted to spend her life with him in America after the war was over, to embrace his life and forget her old one. She really didn’t care if she never saw her own family again.
Will opened the car door as Miranda rushed over. ‘Hi, beautiful,’ he said, his teeth very white in the darkness.
She scrunched up the wet coat, pushed it over into the back seat and got in, turning to him eagerly.
‘Hmmm,’ he said after the longest, deepest kiss. ‘That was worth waiting for. I hope you
can get away this weekend, I’ve found a place for us to stay.’
‘Yes, I’ve fixed it,’ she said, leaning into his shoulder. ‘But you will be careful, you know what I mean?’
‘Sure, honey, I’ll keep it covered,’ he chuckled. ‘I don’t want you having a baby, not till we’ve been married a respectable time.’
‘Married?’ Miranda exclaimed.
He laughed. ‘I guess I should’ve asked you properly. l had planned to at the weekend, but it just slipped out. But what d’you say? Will you marry me when all this war madness is over?’
Miranda threw her arms around his neck. ’I’d marry you tomorrow, even in this madness,’ she said, covering his face with kisses.
He took her hands and held them, kissing her fingers. ‘I can’t offer no guarantees about where we’ll fetch up,’ he said. ‘I could be posted anywhere, but I know I want you to be with me wherever that is.’
‘I wouldn’t mind if we had to live in a desert, on top of a mountain or on the moon, as long as you are with me,’ she said, and tears of joy ran down her cheeks.
‘Hey, don’t cry, honey,’ he said, wiping the tears away with his thumb. ‘I already told my folks about you in a letter and I know they are going to love you as much as I do. What’ll your folks have to say?’
‘I wish I could say they’d be overjoyed,’ Miranda said sadly. ‘But I’ve already told you what my mother’s like. I don’t care though, my life will be with you and they’ll have to lump it.’
‘They’ll think I’m not good enough for you?’
‘Nobody would be, not unless Mother knew the family and they were close to royalty,’ she sighed regretfully. ‘But don’t concern yourself with that. You’ll be marrying me, not my mother.’
Belle was asleep when Miranda crept into the hut well after twelve that night. She was so excited that she just had to wake her friend.
‘Surely it’s not morning yet?’ Belle muttered groggily as Miranda shook her.
‘No, it’s not, but I have something to tell you that can’t wait till morning.’
There was just enough moonlight for Miranda to see Belle rubbing her eyes. ‘This had better be good,’ she said.
‘It is. Will proposed. I’ll go back with him to America when the war’s over. Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so happy!’
Belle sat up then and groped for Miranda’s hand to squeeze it. ‘It is wonderful news, I’m really glad for you. But will you get married here?’ she whispered.
‘We haven’t decided that yet. I’d like to, but he wants his family to be there. We’ll talk about it more at the weekend.’
‘Are you going to tell your parents?’
‘No, Mama will just be horrid about it. I shall present them with a fait accompli.’
‘I hope the wedding’s here, then I can be with you,’ Belle said. ‘But can I go back to sleep now?’
‘It’s “may” I go back to sleep,’ Miranda said with a giggle. She was always correcting Belle’s speech – it was a long-standing joke between them that she was her grammar coach.
‘May you bugger off then,’ Belle said. ‘And don’t forget I’m to be matron of honour.’
On Saturday it was dry for once, though still chilly. Just that afternoon one of the French ambulance drivers had said that this was the wettest summer he could remember. There were huge puddles all around the hospital grounds, which gave everyone a clear idea of how appalling the conditions were for the men at the front.
Miranda met Will at six o’clock in the usual place for their night away. It was the first time since the night they met that she’d seen him in daylight and she could see the car had been washed and polished. So was he; Miranda could smell lemon soap on him as she kissed him, and though he was in his uniform as always, it was freshly pressed, his boots gleaming with polish.
‘I thought tonight would never come,’ he said, nuzzling his face into her neck. ‘I took a lot of stick from the other guys; they said I was watching the clock all day.’
‘I was too,’ she admitted. ‘We were very busy, and the gears kept sticking in my ambulance, so my arm aches from trying to whack it in. I hoped I’d have time for a bath before meeting you, but no such luck. And you look so smart and spruced up.’
He had never looked quite so handsome. His skin was golden, his eyes were shining and his dark hair was so neat and well cut. Her heart was thumping with anticipation at the night ahead, but she wished she’d had time to make herself beautiful for him.
‘You look gorgeous to me, good enough to eat,’ he said. ‘I’d better whisk you away before you change your mind.’
Despite France being a war zone and all the destruction caused by it, battlefields where no tree or bush was left standing, the mass graves, hastily built hospitals, supply dumps, and roads teeming with lorries, gun carriages, horse-driven carts and marching soldiers, just a few miles away from this ugliness it was still a rural idyll. People often commented on this, and as Will drove Miranda away from the hospital in the direction of Rouen, she saw this for herself. The countryside here was still pretty, fields with green crops, pastures with grazing cows and old people carefully tending vegetable patches.
‘It’s lovely,’ she said as they made their way down the narrow country lanes. ‘I can smell new-mown hay and damp earth, and so many wild flowers. It’s like being back in Sussex, so different from around Camiers.’
Will smiled at her. ‘Just don’t expect the Waldorf, honey. The French officer who told me about it spoke English as bad as my French; he might have been telling me it was a dump for all I know. But he did say he took his lady friend here, and contacted them for me.’
‘I’m impressed that you can find your way, I haven’t seen any signposts,’ she said.
‘Don’t praise me yet, we might never find it,’ he laughed.
‘Here we are,’ he said a little later, pulling up by a picturesque but crumbling old stone house with peeling shutters. The sun was a big fiery ball, just sinking down behind the house, giving it a pinkish glow.
The faded sign said ‘Le Faisan Doré’. Miranda knew doré meant golden, but she didn’t understand the other word. The place might look a bit shabby, but compared to a chilly hut with a tin roof, surrounded by mud, it was a palace.
The inside was equally shabby, but quaint, the way so many old country houses were in England. The front door led straight into one large, low-ceilinged room. To the right of the front room was a bar and sitting area; some of the chairs and couches had stuffing coming out of them, and the rugs over the stone floor were threadbare. To the left was a dining area with scrubbed plain wood tables which were being laid for dinner by a skinny young lad of about fourteen. There was a roaring fire on each side of the room, and a plump, smiling-faced elderly woman came forward to greet them, immediately offering them a glass of red wine.
She said in rapid French that if they wanted dinner they must order it now, as they were always busy on Saturday nights. It seemed there was just one dish on offer, and Miranda only recognized the word ‘boeuf’ in her description. She translated this for Will and he nodded agreement.
They sat by the fire to warm up while they drank their wine, and when he’d finished laying the tables the young lad showed them to their room which was up the staircase at the back of the bar.
Miranda gasped with delight as the lad opened the door at the back of the house. It was as shabby as downstairs, yet it was the kind of comfortable, faded grandeur she remembered in her grandparents’ home when she was small. There was an old and beautiful walnut bed with a matching armoire and dressing table and by the window overlooking fields was a small round table with a vase of pink roses sitting on it.
Will had to duck his head to avoid the beams on the ceiling, and as the boy backed out grinning at them, Miranda prodded the bed and thought it must have a feather mattress as it was very soft.
‘What d’you think, honey?’ Will said, looking anxious.
‘I think it’s lovely,’ sh
e said truthfully. She might have stayed in far more beautiful rooms in the past, but this one looked romantic and cosy. ‘Just the perfect place to spend our first night together.’
She pulled back the faded chintz counterpane and to her surprise the bed was made up with lace-trimmed linen. It was a little creamy with age, but ironed smooth, and she could smell lavender. When she opened a second door it led to a small room with a bath and a bidet. On turning on the tap it was an even bigger surprise to find the water was piping hot.
Back at the hospital they were lucky to get more than three inches of hot water in the bath before it ran cold. Sally had said they’d fixed it that way so no one would linger in there, and no one did as the bathroom was a stark, draughty place. She looked round at Will in delight.
He put his arms around her and kissed her. ‘I can see by the look on your face that you are dying to get in the bath, so I’ll go down to the bar and have a drink and wait for you there. Come down when you’re ready.’
Once again Miranda was touched by his sensitivity. She had fully expected him to leap on her as soon as the bedroom door was closed, and though she wanted him badly, she also wanted everything to be right.
She had come wearing a blouse and skirt so as not to attract any attention to herself when leaving the hospital. But she’d packed a dark red velvet dress which she hadn’t even told Belle she had brought from England. Once she’d seen how they were to live at the hospital it looked ridiculously unsuitable. All these weeks it had remained in the tissue paper she’d packed it in at home, and she’d thought she would never get the opportunity to wear it.
While the bath was running she took it out, and to her joy found it had remained uncreased.
Will was on his second brandy, watching the place fill up with French officers in their grey uniforms who had come for a meal, when he saw them all turn to look at the stairs.
Miranda was coming down and she looked sensational. She’d twisted her blonde hair up and secured it with a couple of tortoiseshell combs, and her dark red dress clung to her curves and flattered her pale English complexion. The neckline was cut to expose her creamy shoulders, and the skirt flowed out behind her as she swept down into the dining room. With a sparkly necklace, matching ear bobs and dainty shoes, she could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. Will felt a surge of pride that she was his girl.
The Promise Page 21