by Molly Green
It was only a short walk to the Royal Court Theatre and she never wanted it to end. It felt right walking along with Murray, her hand lightly hooked into his arm, his face peering down at her and smiling. Once he gave her hand a little squeeze and she felt the tingling pressure of his fingers, even through their gloves.
‘There’s a good little restaurant near the theatre,’ Murray said. ‘They do a pre-theatre supper. Would that be to your taste, Madam?’
He was teasing her again.
‘Very much to my taste – though I’m not always sure what my taste is these days.’ She grinned.
He opened the door for her and she stepped in. It was dimly lit and the blackout curtains were already drawn for the evening. It was still early with only a few diners and they were shown a table tucked away in a corner. A waiter came along immediately, took her coat and pulled out her chair so she could be seated.
‘That’s a beautiful dress you’re wearing,’ Murray said, looking her up and down, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘You look like a mannequin.’
‘Like a plastic doll, do you mean?’ It was her turn to tease.
‘No, no, I didn’t mean one of those you see in a shop window – I meant a fashion model. Something out of Vogue magazine.’
‘How do you know about Vogue?’ June asked him.
‘My mother. She takes it every month.’
It was obvious from the way Murray spoke that he came from a good family, June thought. She tried not to dwell on the difference between his family and her own, and was relieved when the waiter returned and lit a candle for them.
‘Tell me about your mother and father.’
‘My father was killed in the last war,’ Murray said, looking up from the menu.
‘I’m sorry. He couldn’t have been very old.’
‘Not thirty.’ Murray’s eyes were moist and June was sorry she’d started such a conversation. ‘But let’s not talk of anything sad tonight. Let’s just be selfish.’
‘What about your mother? You said she likes Vogue magazine.’
‘She does. Mother always looks immaculate. She’s still a lovely looking woman.’
‘Has she ever met anyone else?’
‘No one she’s got serious with. My brother and I used to vet them all – tell her they weren’t any good for her, just after her money.’ He smiled. ‘Now, do you see anything you fancy on the menu? I want you to choose whatever you’d like. Something you wouldn’t ordinarily get at the home.’
‘Like porridge and bread and jam,’ June said, chuckling.
‘I’m sure your cook does better than that,’ Murray said with a grin, looking at the choice again. ‘The menu’s not quite like it used to be before the rationing, but apparently they still put on a few decent dishes.’
June couldn’t help her eyes straying to the prices. She blinked. My goodness, she could get a week’s groceries with just the price of the main meal.
‘I’ll have the macaroni cheese, if that’s all right,’ she said, picking the cheapest meal on the menu.
‘You’re not having anything of the kind,’ Murray said, once again seeming to read her thoughts. ‘I don’t do badly on pay and this is our treat – to see something of the normal world instead of all this chaos.’ His eyes gazed at her intently. ‘I suggest the baked cod, if you like fish.’
‘Yes, I do, very much.’ She didn’t tell him that was the very dish she had had her eye on. ‘All right, then, I’ll have that.’
‘I’ll join you.’
Murray seemed so familiar as he sat opposite her, talking and laughing, not taking those brilliant blue eyes off her for more than a few seconds at a time. She’d never felt so comfortable with anyone before and wondered if he felt the same. If only she could glimpse inside his head. But she was absolutely certain that he felt just as happy in her company as she did in his. Maybe there was no need for questions. They should just be in the moment. That’s what everyone said with this war on: ‘Live for the moment – you never know if it’s your last.’
She looked across at Murray from under her lashes, knowing she was flirting a little for the first time in her life. Taking a sip of the delicious wine and feeling very much a woman of the world, she was rewarded when he placed his hand warmly over hers and sent her the most magical smile.
June was reluctant to break the spell by getting up to leave the restaurant, but as soon as Murray paid the bill and helped her into her coat she began to feel excited at the thought of seeing a play. It had been a while since she’d been to one with Aunt Ada, and this one sounded fun.
Several of the buildings surrounding the theatre had been badly damaged but the Royal Court stood like a beacon of hope.
‘One Jerry didn’t get in the Blitz,’ Murray said as he guided her through the entrance door, ‘though it did catch fire a few years ago – they completely refurbished it with a nautical theme in the Art Deco style. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘I love it,’ June said, looking around admiringly.
‘The lounge is supposed to be modelled on the lounge of the Queen Mary. We should take a look.’
Couples were already gathering in the foyer. Many of the women wore fur, either the full coat or a fox fur around their neck. June hated the idea of an animal slung round her own neck, but she couldn’t help admiring all the glittering jewels on fingers, throats, ears, wrists, arms and elaborate hairstyles, and long strings of necklaces plunging downwards to show off cleavages. Compared to these exotic-looking creatures the gentlemen looked quite plain, June thought, although she noticed many a sparkling cufflink. There was constant chatter, which sounded like the twittering of birds, and around the foyer wafted a delicious smell of expensive perfume. June wanted to gaze at the women longer, but she felt the lightest touch of Murray’s hand on her back and they followed more couples down a curved staircase to the lower floor.
It did indeed feel like the interior of a ship, June thought smiling, as though she’d been on one and could tell. Everywhere she looked twinkled and flickered, from the candelabra shining in the mirrors, the waiters’ silver trays, the light catching on the crystal champagne glasses, and the candles adorning the small tables where people sat. Even the tinkling laughter from the women seemed to match the fairy-like atmosphere.
Murray looked at his watch. ‘Would you like a drink before we go in, Junie? We have a few minutes.’
‘Oh, no, thank you. I couldn’t eat or drink another thing.’
‘Neither could I, really. So shall we go in then?’
The auditorium was just as glamorous as the entrance. Murray had chosen circle tickets and a uniformed lady showed them their seats. He took her coat and put it on top of his own.
‘I’ll put everything on the seat next to me and hope no one comes,’ he whispered.
The theatre began to fill and soon practically every seat was occupied, including the one next to Murray. He gave her a rueful grin and patted the pile of coats on his knees.
The lights dimmed and the chattering audience instantly hushed. The curtain went up and in the darkness Murray felt for June’s hand and entwined her fingers with his own. He glanced at her, and before it went completely dark she saw a kind of question in his eyes that she couldn’t read. It didn’t matter. She let herself sink into the velvet chair and couldn’t remember ever being so happy.
It was later than Matron had ordered by the time they arrived back at Bingham Hall.
‘I’ve had the most wonderful night,’ June told him. ‘The play is still making me smile. Some of those lines from Lady Bracknell were hilarious. The one about losing one parent being a misfortune but losing both is carelessness.’ She began to giggle all over again and Murray joined in.
‘It was the first time I’ve heard you laughing so much.’
‘I couldn’t help it. And the rest of the audience enjoyed it too, didn’t they?’
They stood close, smiling at each other. Then, as their gaze held, their smiles faded. Th
e air shimmered between them. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she longed for him to kiss her again – a proper kiss, a lover’s kiss. But it wasn’t to be – he made no move. Her eyes stinging with disappointment, she turned to go, but to her surprise he stayed her with his hand on her shoulder, and gently brought her face back towards him, his other hand cupped around her cheek.
‘Junie,’ he whispered.
Before she could answer he’d taken her in his arms and she felt his lips on hers, demanding, seeking … she knew not what. Instinctively, and with her whole being, she curved her body into his, her lips parting softly under his mouth, and kissed him back. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, the lobes of her ears, until he found her mouth again. He said her name against her lips and drew her even closer. By the time he released her she was dizzy, but he held her until she regained her balance.
‘Are you all right?’ he said huskily.
‘I think so.’
But she knew she would never be all right again if he wasn’t by her side.
‘I must go in.’ Her voice shook and she hoped he wouldn’t notice. ‘Matron will find out how late I am and she’ll never allow me out again.’
‘I know.’ He kissed her on her forehead. ‘I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside.’
‘You don’t need to.’ The words sailed on the cold air of her breath, but Murray stood where he was, waving her objection away.
Iris had told her she’d wait up and let her in. She was just about to gently tap on the heavy oak door when it creaked open and there was Iris, standing to one side, pulling her in.
‘You’re lucky,’ Iris said, blowing a kiss to Murray and shutting the door. ‘Matron had a headache and went to bed early. I’ll make us a cup of cocoa and you can tell me all about it.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next day being Sunday, there were no classes and the day began half an hour later. June puffed up her flat pillow, trying to give her head a modicum of support. There was no point in pulling back the curtains – it would still be pitch-dark. She stretched her legs under the blanket and let herself drift as she relived her evening with Murray. It couldn’t have been more wonderful … and she would always cherish every moment. A vision of his dear face crowded her brain, making her smile. She wondered when they might meet the next time. It wouldn’t be easy. He’d told her his job was getting busier by the day.
How did she feel about him? She forced herself to ask the question in a rational manner. She hadn’t known him long. Had spent hardly more than a few hours in his company when you added them up. She knew very little about him as a person or his background. But she didn’t need to, her heart sang out. She could ask all the rational, sensible questions she liked. She could tell herself to be careful. She could say it was too soon to even think about falling in love. But whatever she told herself, her heart told her differently – that with every heartbeat she loved him.
Last night over cocoa Iris had been burning with curiosity, but June hadn’t gone into any detail about the evening. It was too precious and she wanted to hug it to herself. She didn’t want to tell anyone in case it was only a few kisses with a nice girl as far as Murray was concerned. But somehow she didn’t think so.
Climbing the flights of stairs to her room, she’d immediately missed him. Hearing his voice, feeling the touch of his hand, his mouth … oh, his mouth on hers. Her knees almost gave way on the last flight. Her room would be completely silent – lifeless. With a sigh she’d put her key in the lock.
All this thinking and worrying wasn’t getting anywhere. June swung her legs out of bed, drew back her curtains and padded over to the washbasin, where she had a quick wash, then dressed and ran downstairs. Her mouth was terribly dry and she was in dire need of a cup of tea.
Dear Bertie was already bustling around in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She’d filled an enamel basin with eggs, ready to boil, and was slicing bread for the toast.
‘Don’t know where Hilda is,’ she grumbled as June came into the kitchen. ‘Girl’s always late.’
‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘Yes, you can put the plates and eggcups and cups and saucers out … oh, and the salt and pepper … and the marmalade.’
June carried the crockery out to the dining room and laid it all out on the three tables, thinking how strange she’d felt only a few weeks ago and how familiar everything looked to her now. She loved her job, she loved the children, and she was completely rewarded when Lizzie uttered a few words, or one of the other children gave her a hug against all the rules. Iris was already a dear friend, and Kathleen and Athena and Barbara were lovely girls to chat to, and Bertie was almost like a mother to them all. There was only Matron’s and Gilbert’s bad temper to contend with, and she wouldn’t let them get the better of her. She strengthened her resolve to try harder with those two.
But it was the thought of Murray, seeing him again, reliving every hour they’d spent together, how he’d murmured during the interval that she looked more beautiful than any other woman there. She’d been sipping a glass of wine and whether it was the alcohol she wasn’t used to or Murray’s compliment, it had gone straight to her head. Anticipating their next meeting made her light up inside with happiness.
‘I would like the teachers, nurses and Cook to be in the library this evening at seven-thirty sharp,’ Matron announced after the children had eaten their supper and had a short playtime period before the younger ones went to bed. She turned to June. ‘And you, too, of course, Miss Lavender. I have some news.’ She spun importantly on her heel, leaving June and Iris to give one another a lifted eyebrow and quick grin. Matron always made everything a small drama. It couldn’t be that earth-shattering, their glances said.
When they all trooped into the library Matron was already there, standing behind the main desk, and at her side sat a reserved-looking middle-aged gentleman, his dark hair greying at the temples, dressed in a navy pin-striped suit and striped tie, with shiny black shoes. He was a plain-looking man with a strong nose but a mouth that looked as though it might smile at you at any moment. But it was his dark eyes that caught your attention. June could tell by the way his glance fell on each person that he was intelligent and completely absorbed in the surroundings and the people who gathered. She noticed his gaze rested on Iris a few seconds longer than anyone else and allowed herself a small smile. Paul was playing up again. It wouldn’t hurt him to have some competition.
‘Be seated, everyone,’ Matron instructed in her usual dictatorial way. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. Marjorie Ayles, as I’m sure you all realise, is not so young any more.’
‘Few of us are,’ Bertie quipped to subdued laughter.
Matron frowned. ‘She has given me her notice and will retire at the end of the month. I’m sure we will all wish her a long and happy retirement, and also thank her for the years she’s been at Dr Barnardo’s.’ She directed her look at Miss Ayles, who sat on the other side of June with her hands folded in her lap. ‘I believe it’s close to twenty years, isn’t it, Marjorie?’
Miss Ayles gave an almost imperceptible nod as though she regretted her decision.
‘To show our thanks I would like to give you a small present.’ She picked up a square box, already gift-wrapped. ‘Would you care to come up, Marjorie?’
Miss Ayles struggled to her feet and made her way to the front. Matron handed her the box, whereupon Miss Ayles nodded again and must have said ‘thank you’ though June couldn’t hear any words from where she was sitting. A little flushed from the attention, Miss Ayles tottered back to her seat to the sound of restrained clapping, and set the box on her lap.
‘I want to introduce you to David Cannon,’ continued Matron, gesturing needlessly towards him. ‘He’s going to take over from Miss Ayles. That means history and geography, but he’s adding music. Yes’ – Matron paused and looked at him coquettishly – ‘we are very lucky in that he is a musician. We haven’t had a music teacher here fo
r some years, so we will look forward, I’m sure, to many evening concerts.’
Mr Cannon sent a gentle smile across to his new colleagues.
‘So please give him your support and make him feel at home. He’ll settle in this evening and be ready to start work tomorrow. We don’t give anyone time to change their minds.’ Matron looked at him and actually laughed.
‘Seems as though having a man around has cheered up the old dragon,’ Iris whispered in June’s ear.
June grinned. ‘Maybe Mr Cannon will join us in the common room later,’ she whispered back mischievously as everyone politely clapped.
‘Speech,’ Iris called out cheekily.
Mr Cannon glanced at Matron who nodded her permission. He got stiffly to his feet and June noticed his long fingers held on to the edges of the desk.
‘Thank you, Matron, for the introduction. Just for clarity, I’m not fighting in the war. Too old, they tell me.’ A few polite smiles. ‘But I fought in the last war and got a bullet wound – in the leg. Unfortunately it put paid to my career as a violinist in the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Couldn’t sit for those long rehearsals. So what would be the next best thing? I came to the conclusion that it must be teaching. As Matron said, I’ll be teaching history and geography, but I want to instil a love of music in as many children as I can, so I intend to introduce classical music appreciation.’
There were some mumbles from Kathleen and Bertie that they wouldn’t be interested. ‘It sounds grand,’ Mr Cannon went on, as though he’d heard, ‘but I can assure you it’s not. You don’t need to know anything about classical music at all. Matron has given permission for me to hold a weekly concert here in the library. She’s going to organise a gramophone’ – he paused and Matron nodded and smiled – ‘and I hope to see you as often as possible. We’ve also agreed that children over twelve can attend these weekly evening concerts if they have a special interest in music and have made their interest known to me in advance. Also, if they come in with one of the teachers or nurses. I say this not because I want to make it difficult for them to attend, but I want them to be serious. I’ll be giving them music lessons and appreciation in their school time anyway.