by Lily Baxter
‘You knew that Grandpa and your father studied medicine at the same hospital?’
‘Yes, he made no secret of that. He let us think that George Beddoes had somehow cheated when they both applied for the same job, although he was never specific. I realised that it must have been something pretty serious, but it never occurred to me that my father was the wrongdoer.’
‘Izzie must be in a dreadful state.’
‘That’s putting it mildly, but I suppose she’ll get over it in time.’
‘That sounds very heartless.’
‘I’m just being practical. Izzie hasn’t had many boyfriends, and Jack is quite a few years her senior. I can’t help hoping that this will finish it; in fact I’m going to have a word with Jack and tell him just that.’
‘He’s devastated, Raif. He really loves Izzie.’
‘Then I’m sorry for him, but if there’s the slightest reason to suppose that we’re related he’s got to end it with my sister.’
‘There are blood tests,’ Miranda said hopefully. ‘They could prove who isn’t the father.’
‘To do that might destroy two marriages, Miranda. My parents have been together for more than twenty-five years and your grandparents have been married for much longer. Would Jack be prepared to go that far?
‘I don’t know.’ Miranda looked away. ‘I just don’t know.’
He dropped his hand to his side. ‘Neither do I, and I’m sorry you got involved in all this. I know you’re fond of Jack and that you like Izzie. I wish I’d been more understanding from the start.’
There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice or the sympathetic expression in his eyes. ‘It’s all been a bit of a mix-up,’ she said softly.
He smiled and the tension between them seemed to evaporate. He held out his hand. ‘Friends?’
His warm fingers closed over her cold hand and she felt as though the icicle in her heart had just melted. ‘Friends,’ she said, smiling shyly. ‘It’s such an odd way to make up for past misunderstandings.’
‘I must go now. I’ve got to be back at the aerodrome before nine.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And I’d better get a move on. Goodbye, Miranda.’
‘Goodbye, Raif.’ She watched him walk away and she felt a sudden sense of loss, but he had gone and it was unlikely that she would ever see him again. Her senses were numbed by the revelation of what had occurred all those years ago. She could understand a little of what her grandmother must have felt for the dashing Max Carstairs, and the over-powering passion that had led her to risk everything for an affair that would have been doomed from the start. Neither of them could have foreseen or even imagined the repercussions that would echo down the years to affect the lives of their children and grandchildren. Miranda could only imagine how Izzie and Jack must be feeling. She went back into the house preparing herself to act normally as she said her goodbyes.
It took Miranda several weeks to settle down at Henlow Priory. It had been oddly comforting to find that nothing much had changed during her absence, and it was hard to believe that she had only spent a couple of days at home. Time had seemed to stretch into infinity during her brief visit to Highcliffe, but now she was back in the real world and she found that the rigid daily routine helped to ease the pain. When she lay in her bed at night she tried to convince herself that what she had felt for Raif had been puppy love, but she could not forget their last meeting. She could still feel the warmth of his arms around her on that cold, blustery winter’s day, and the gentle pressure of his fingers when he had held her hand. She had seen a totally different side to Raif that morning, and she knew that she had not imagined the look of regret in his eyes when they parted, but there was no going back. The rift between the two families went too deep to mend easily.
Each morning she managed to present a cheerful face to the rest of the girls in hut five, and if the mask slipped a little at times it was accepted as being natural for someone who had recently lost their father. She worried constantly about her mother, wondering where she was and what was happening to her in enemy territory. She agonised about Maman’s feelings at this time, if she even knew that she had been widowed. It seemed to Miranda that the war had robbed her of both her parents, but she had no alternative but to carry on and live in hope.
She devoted herself to her job, working longer shifts if required and spending her spare time alone in the library or going for long walks in the countryside. Janice and Val tried to persuade her to accompany them to the local hops, but she always managed to find an excuse. They both had regular boyfriends now, and she suspected that they would try to fix her up with a date. Emotionally ragged, Miranda needed time to get over her feelings for Raif, and there was always the chance that Gil might be at the dance. She did not think for a moment that he had been serious about her, but she suspected that his male pride would have taken quite a knock when she did not fall at his feet like his former conquests.
The months passed and she had successfully managed to avoid outings to the dance hall, but when it came to Valerie’s twenty-first birthday at the end of October she could not in all conscience refuse to join in the party at the village pub. They set off on foot, but the snows of the previous winter had left the lanes scarred with potholes. The autumn rains had filled them with water, and the gales that ripped the dead leaves off the trees had dried the puddles into pools of thick sticky mud. Every now and then the clouds parted to allow shafts of moonlight to illuminate their way as they walked to the village, and nothing could dampen their spirits. The girls from hut five were in festive mood.
The ceiling of the sixteenth-century pub was stained with nicotine in between the ancient oak beams, and the flagstone floor had been worn away in places by many generations of thirsty customers. A fire crackled cheerfully in the inglenook and the resinous aroma of burning pine logs mingled with the smell of beer and cigarette smoke. When the girls pushed two tables together and began moving chairs, the locals grumbled into their pint pots and shifted closer to the fire.
Miranda bought the first round, and she was just about to pick up the last two glasses of cider and take them to their table when the door opened and a group of airmen breezed in on a gust of cold air. She stood aside as they moved to the bar, giving her appraising glances and grinning. ‘Hello, darling. Haven’t seen you in here before.’
‘I don’t think the young lady is interested in you, Trigg.’
Miranda turned at the sound of a familiar voice and saw Gil standing in the doorway.
The young airman saluted and stood to attention. ‘Sorry, sir. Didn’t know she was your girl.’
Gil returned the salute. ‘At ease, Trigg. These young ladies are from Henlow Priory so you boys had best mind your manners.’
‘It’s all right,’ Miranda said hastily. ‘He was just being friendly.’
‘Ta, miss. That’s right, I was.’ Trigg shuffled away to join his grinning companions at their table.
‘It’s good to see you again, Miranda.’ Gil’s smile faded. ‘I heard about your father and I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, avoiding meeting his gaze.
‘I saw Janice and Valerie at the village hall last week. I’d hoped to see you there but they told me you hadn’t been out much.’
‘They didn’t mention it.’
‘I asked them not to. I wasn’t sure that you would care one way or the other.’
‘It’s been a long time, Gil. A lot has happened since we last met.’
‘My absence wasn’t from choice. I would have tried to contact you sooner, but I was seconded to an air station in Lincolnshire for several months. But now I’m back and it’s good to see you again, Miranda.’
‘And I’m pleased to see you,’ she said, realising with a jolt of surprise that she actually meant it.
He glanced over his shoulder at the rowdy party of girls. ‘Perhaps you could slip away and have a drink with me?’
‘I’d like that, but I’d better take these to the girls
before they start complaining.’
‘Of course. We’ll have a chat later.’
Miranda took the glasses to the table where she received knowing winks from Janice and Val.
‘I thought you’d ditched the dishy glamour-boy,’ Audrey said, picking up her glass. ‘Are you two seeing each other again, Beddoes?’
‘Mind your own business, Audrey,’ Angela said, frowning. ‘And for heaven’s sake, darling, don’t start singing when you’ve had a couple of drinks. I’ll die of embarrassment if you do.’
‘Leave the poor kid alone, Audrey.’ Gloria fumbled in her bag and produced a packet of Kensitas. She offered it round but the others shook their heads. ‘You’re all such goody-goodies,’ she said crossly. ‘Anyone got a light?’
Immediately a hand shot out holding a lighter and Gloria puffed on her cigarette, exhaling smoke above the head of the young airman who had attempted to flirt with Miranda.
‘Jim Trigg’s the name, darling. What’s yours?’
Gloria regarded him through a haze of smoke. ‘Does your mother know you’re out this late, sunshine?’
He flushed scarlet and moved away to join his friends who were now openly laughing at him. One of them slapped him on the back. ‘She’s got you there, Jim.’
‘Shut up.’ Trigg picked up his glass of shandy and downed it in one long gulp.
‘Is he old enough to drink?’ Gloria called across the room.
‘Don’t be mean, Glo.’ Valerie lifted her glass, looking round at her assembled friends. ‘Drink up, girls. The night is young and this is the first time I’ve been legally able to drink in a pub.’
Miranda sipped her cider but she was acutely conscious of Gil’s presence. He was alone at the bar and she murmured an excuse but no one seemed to notice as she rose from the table. She walked up to the bar and perched on a stool beside Gil. ‘I feel I ought to apologise for the way I treated you all those months ago. It wasn’t very nice, and I’m truly sorry.’
‘You did rather give me the cold shoulder.’ He laid his hand on hers as it rested on the polished surface of the bar. ‘But I should have taken things more slowly. I’m afraid that’s me all over.’
‘I was a bit mixed up then.’
‘And you aren’t now?’
‘I’m okay.’ She met his earnest gaze with a wry smile. ‘I’d like us to be friends, Gil.’
‘I’m everybody’s friend.’ He was suddenly serious. ‘I mean it, Miranda. I’m not the chap you think I am. I’d really like to get to know you better.’
‘I’d like that too.’
‘You must have had a rough time since I last saw you.’
His matter-of-fact way of speaking was oddly comforting. Had he been overly sympathetic she knew she would have burst into tears, but the warmth in his hazel eyes spoke volumes. ‘My dad was killed in action and my mother’s somewhere in France doing something top secret. I haven’t seen or heard from her for two years. I don’t know if she’s alive or dead.’ Her breath hitched as she choked back tears.
‘That’s tough. I’m really sorry.’
‘It’s nothing to what some people have been going through.’
‘But you must be very proud of your mother. She’s a brave woman.’
‘Yes, she is. I wish I was half as brave as her.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘I think you’ve got the hardest part. It can’t be easy to carry on as normal when someone you love is in danger.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘We go through it every day in the plotting room, and most of the time we don’t even know the chaps who are risking everything to keep us safe.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘It’s even harder when you do know them.’
‘That would be your uncle and the other chap who’s a fighter pilot. The one you said you had a crush on.’
She turned her head away. ‘I wasn’t thinking of them actually.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you again.’
‘It’s all right. I’m fine really.’
‘You’re a very bad liar, Miranda Beddoes.’
She shot him a sideways glance. ‘That’s not fair. You don’t know me at all.’
‘Sometimes you meet someone who is so special you feel you’ve known them all your life.’
‘You do? I mean, you did?’
‘When I first saw you at the village dance you were sitting with your hands clasped in your lap and your ankles crossed, like a little girl in Sunday school. You looked up and smiled but there was sadness in your eyes, the same look that I see now. You’re no good at keeping secrets, Miranda. You’d be a pretty lousy poker player.’
She felt herself blushing furiously and she could not bring herself to look him in the eye. ‘Now I’m embarrassed.’
He tapped her on the arm and when she raised her head she saw that he was balancing a teaspoon on the end of his nose. It was so ridiculous that she burst out laughing. With a slight movement he tossed it in the air and caught it deftly in his hand. He put it down, smiling. ‘You look very pretty when you blush. You went bright pink when I first spoke to you and I thought it was quite charming.’
‘I never know if you mean what you say, or if you’re just flirting with me.’
‘I went to that wretched dance hall every week before I was sent to Lincolnshire. I hoped I’d see you there and we could start again. Didn’t your friends tell you that?’
She shook her head. ‘No. They never mentioned you.’
‘Well, it’s true. I always left the minute I realised you weren’t going to turn up.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say you’ll go out with me this Saturday.’
‘I can’t, Gil. I’m on duty all day.’
‘Then swop with one of the other girls. I’m sure you could arrange it if you tried really hard.’
There was no doubting his sincerity and she could not think of a good excuse. ‘I’ll try.’
He glanced at the clock behind the bar. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’m not actually supposed to be here. I’m on duty but I managed to wangle a couple of hours off so that I could come tonight.’
Her suspicions were raised. ‘Did you know I’d be here?’
‘I knew that Val and her chums had arranged to meet here this evening. I didn’t think you’d stay away from something as big as a twenty-first birthday beano.’
She was conscious of his nearness as he stood at her side and she knew she was blushing again, but she felt strangely at ease in his company and the moment passed. ‘You get ten out of ten for persistence, Mad Dog.’
He retrieved his cap from the corner of the bar. ‘I’ll pick you up mid-morning on Saturday.’
‘I can’t make any promises.’
‘But you’ll try.’
‘I will.’
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, receiving a cheer of approval from the airmen and a round of applause from the girls. Gil tossed his cap up in the air, caught it in his hand and flipped it onto his head. ‘Goodnight, all.’ Blowing a kiss to Miranda he strolled out of the pub.
Miranda was conscious that everyone was staring at her and she made her way back to the table. Audrey patted the empty space on the settle beside her. ‘Come and sit down. What did he say? Are you going out on another date?’
‘I – well, I don’t know. He asked me out on Saturday but I’m on duty.’
Gloria leaned across the table. ‘Come on, girls, who’s got the day off? Someone needs to swop with Goody Two-Shoes here. I’d do it but I’ll be stuck in the filter room.’
‘Actually, I’ve got the day off,’ Angela said, pushing her empty glass towards Miranda. ‘A large gin and a dash of water will clinch the deal, darling.’
Janice slapped her on the back. ‘Good for you, posh girl. You’re a sport.’
‘I’ll do your hair,’ Val said magnanimously. ‘Has anyone seen Veronica Lake in I Wanted Wings? Well, she’s got this knockout h
airdo which would be just the thing for Miranda. I’m dying to get my hands on that mane of yours again, kid. It’s a crime against nature to wear it in a bun.’
‘How about a victory roll?’ Audrey turned her head so that everyone could admire her hairstyle.
Val shook her head. ‘Too sophisticated for our little Goody Two-Shoes. She’s the ingénue type.’
‘I’m sitting here, girls,’ Miranda said, torn between laughter and cringing with embarrassment as the airmen at the next table were listening avidly to their conversation. ‘Can we change the subject?’
‘We’re taking you in hand, kid,’ Janice said, grinning. ‘Not everyone gets a second chance with Mad Dog. Think yourself bloody lucky. I know I would.’
*
The trouble with looking like Veronica Lake was, Miranda discovered, that the vision in one eye was largely obscured by her hair. Val had used her considerable expertise at finger-waving to create the effect so that Miranda’s blonde hair flopped over the left side of her face and hung around her shoulders in a shining pageboy. Angela had insisted on lending her a pink angora sweater with a sweetheart neck and puffed sleeves, but although it was pretty and warm, the fibres tickled Miranda’s nose and made her sneeze. She was wearing a pair of navy-blue slacks, despite strong opposition from her self-appointed fashion advisers who kept insisting that a short skirt was far more fetching, even if she did show her knickers when she got on and off Mad Dog’s motorbike. Miranda would only go along with them so far and no further. Her experience of riding pillion in the snow had convinced her that slacks were the thing, and she refused to be persuaded otherwise.
‘Slacks aren’t sexy,’ Audrey said, frowning. ‘Smart, maybe, but not cute. Men like a bit of leg, and for heaven’s sake pull the jumper down a bit. Show your cleavage, Miranda. I’ll bet Veronica does. You don’t want Mad Dog to think you’re a convent girl, do you?’
Miranda glanced at her watch. ‘Too late to change anything now. Thanks a lot, girls. I owe you all.’ She shrugged on her coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck and jammed her beret on her head. Picking up her handbag and gas mask case, she left the hut before anyone had time to think of any further improvements in her appearance.