by Molly Green
‘You might remember more things about your father now your mind is clear of Billy,’ Murray said. ‘What about your name? Are you going to keep the name Lavender? It doesn’t seem a good choice any longer.’
‘Funnily enough, I always liked the name until recently. Now I loathe anything which reminds me of him. Mum’s maiden name was Parker so I’ll change it and be June Parker. I’m not so keen on it, but at least I shan’t keep being reminded.’
Murray took her hand. ‘I have a much better idea,’ he said, kissing her palm, then curling her fingers around it. His eyes gazed into hers. ‘How about changing Lavender to Andrews?’
June gave a start of surprise. It sounded like a proposal. If it was, what on earth had changed him from only wanting to be friends to suddenly wanting her to be his wife? A tiny spurt of anger bubbled up inside her. It was as though he thought he was in sole charge of their relationship. His decision to be friends only, even though he’d kissed her and made her feel special, and led her to believe … She felt the anger build. It was his decision now to ask her – in a strange, unromantic way – to marry him, in so many words. Why such a change? And where did she come into all this? He’d never even once said he loved her, except as a friend. She blinked back the angry tears.
‘I’ve already decided on Parker,’ she said in as calm a voice as she could muster, ignoring the flicker of surprise on his face. She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s time I was getting back. It’s been lovely to talk and see you looking so much better than the last time I saw you.’
‘Junie, what is it? What have I said?’
She rose to her feet. ‘I really must go. Oh, and by the way, now I have my own cottage I’m allowed to have Freddie back.’
‘Junie, you seem so different. What on earth’s the matter? I know something’s wrong. Please tell me.’
‘Nothing’s the matter at all.’ She made her voice even. She wouldn’t let him know how angry she was. ‘I need to see where Mr Brown has hung my raincoat.’
She came back with both their coats. Murray was still sitting at the table flicking through the book.
‘What’s changed, Junie? I thought you were as happy as me a few minutes ago.’
‘When would you be able to bring Freddie?’ She ignored the hurt in his eyes, and pushed away a sliver of guilt that she had brought this upon him.
‘All going well I can bring him this coming Friday.’ He sprang up and helped her on with her raincoat. ‘Would that suit?’ He sounded drained.
‘That would be perfect,’ she said, feeling a tell-tale sting at the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t let him know how much it had cost her to throw what she was sure had been a proposal of marriage right back in his face.
What a prize idiot he’d been. What a way to propose to the girl he loved with all his heart and soul – with every fibre of his being. She was the one he’d thought of every time he took to the skies, hoping and praying he’d make it back safely with the rest of his crew so he could feast his eyes on her again. And he’d had more than enough time to think these past weeks. Wielding a pen for a couple of hours a day, which was all his superior had allowed him to do, didn’t exactly require the same level of concentration as flying a Hurricane or a Spit.
He rushed outside to glimpse the bus which June had likely caught vanish round the corner, and swallowed hard. If he didn’t have June, if he couldn’t have her, then he had nothing. He shook his head as if to get rid of such a depressing thought.
And he still hadn’t told her that he loved her.
No wonder she obviously wanted nothing more to do with him.
He had one last chance. He’d be seeing her Friday with Freddie in his arms.
Chapter Forty
June swung from elation that she would see Murray in three days’ time to despair at the thought of the way she had acted at their last meeting. If Murray really had been asking her to marry him she couldn’t have told him any plainer that she wasn’t interested. But then she’d feel angry again that he had messed her around so much: telling her they could only be friends one minute, then offering himself as a husband the next – without any kind of explanation of what had happened in between to make such a declaration – if that’s what it was.
Yet he’d come to his own conclusion that she would never have gone to Chas’s bedroom if she’d known what he’d had in his mind. She hadn’t had to convince him at all. In spite of herself, she began to soften a little.
At least now when Murray came there was no Matron to deal with. She could talk to him freely in her own office without fear of being interrupted or told off. The knowledge of such freedom almost took her breath away. But every time she thought of this man she loved with all her heart she felt a stab of despair. She’d turned down what must surely have been a proposal for the sake of her pride, just when things had been so wonderful between them only minutes before.
‘I don’t know what Mr Brown in the bookshop must have thought of us,’ June said, when she’d finished telling Iris that she’d left Murray and stalked out. ‘He’s such a nice man and has been so kind to me ever since I first went in that day.’ She smiled. ‘Thank goodness I went into the nice bookshop that first time, and not the mean, bad-tempered one you warned me against.’
Iris burst out laughing.
‘The bad-tempered one is Mr Brown,’ she said, almost choking with mirth, and pointing her finger at June.
‘What!’
‘I didn’t tell you at the time because you were all wrapped up in your pilot. You must have brought out the best in the grumpy old geezer.’
June couldn’t help smiling. Her friend was incorrigible.
‘Let’s hope on Friday you can bring out the best in Murray,’ Iris said, having the last word as usual.
Days and hours and minutes dragged. Then, before she knew it, he was sitting on the other side of her desk drinking tea, with Freddie lapping his bowl of water in the corner, having given her a rapturous and very sloppy welcome.
It was hard to stop staring at Murray. He had put his cap on the desk, and although he appeared quite at ease, she didn’t think he was. He tapped one foot restlessly and when he’d stopped that – Freddie had thought he was playing a game and kept rushing over and trying to bite his laces – he drummed his fingers on his thigh instead.
So he was not perfectly at ease.
She waited.
‘Are you enjoying your new position?’ he said finally.
‘I’m working my way into it,’ June replied. ‘Luckily Matron was quite methodical with the files, but not so with the accounts. I was never at all sure she understood them and I’m going to have to ask Mr Clarke if he can send someone from Head Office to explain them to me. As far as the children are concerned I’ve changed a few things.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like not calling them by their surnames.’ She stopped, wishing she could take back the words, thinking of the last time she and Murray had spoken about surnames. It was the last thing she wanted to bring up. She glanced at him and his expression seemed to collapse.
‘Junie, I—’
‘Can I get you some more tea?’
‘What? Oh, no, thank you.’
He caught her eye. The air shimmered between them.
‘I can’t talk to you properly with this desk in between,’ he said. ‘Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be disturbed by anyone?’
She hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Maybe the library,’ she said doubtfully. There was often one of the teachers in there, but at this time of the morning they should all be in class.
‘Shall we have a look?’ Murray got to his feet.
‘We can’t take Freddie into the library,’ June said. ‘He’s not supposed to be in the house at all. I’m only allowed to have him because I have the cottage.’
‘You’re the matron. You can break the rules just this once. I’ll hold him. He’s a good little fellow and he usually obeys me.’
The library
was deserted. She led him into an alcove where there was a round table and a few hard-backed chairs. Murray set Freddie in an empty box he’d spotted in the corner and told him, ‘Stay’, then arranged two of the chairs away from the table so they were almost opposite one another. June felt awkward, but she was determined not to let any anger rise the way it had in Mr Brown’s shop the other day.
Murray took her hand and examined it, turning it over as though he’d never seen it before.
‘So delicate,’ he murmured. He looked up and June saw his eyes were moist. ‘June, I have a confession to make.’
She sat very still. Was this the moment when he was about to tell her he was sorry he’d led her up the garden path. That it was only a few kisses in the bookshop but he was sure she’d understand that they were friends only, just like he’d told her before.
She couldn’t go through all that again. Her nerve endings tingled with anxiety.
‘Junie, I want you to hear me out before you judge me. I’ve treated you shamefully, telling you all that nonsense about wanting only to be friends. I don’t know why I felt I couldn’t explain. And then it was too late. You looked so hurt I didn’t know how to take the words back. But I wanted to put the brakes on our relationship because I was beginning to get serious about you. And the odds were heavy that I might not make it and I didn’t want to leave you a young widow, or worse – if I’d got badly injured and you’d felt obliged to look after me. I didn’t want your pity. And I didn’t want you to waste your life. You have so much to give – particularly to the children. And you’ll want your own children one day.’
What was he talking about? Why should anything matter so long as he was alive? And if he were to die, well, they would have taken a chance for happiness, which was a whole lot better than doing nothing.
‘And then I had the accident. Ended up with Shorty in the next bed. I told them I didn’t want any visitors. But in you came. Shorty said—’
‘What did Shorty have to do with it?’ June demanded.
‘I just didn’t know how to get you back. Or even if you wanted me. Shorty said he’d only heard your voice when you came to the hospital those two times, but not being able to see, he said the expression in your voice told him that you were … well … that you …’
‘That I loved you?’ The words fell from her lips before she could stop them.
Murray nodded.
‘But you left the hospital without any word,’ June said, her voice unsteady. ‘I went to visit you the following day and the nurse – that strict, dark-haired one – said they needed the bed, so they’d sent you back to Liverpool.’
Murray drew his brows together. ‘I wrote to you to explain. I gave the letter to one of the other nurses and told her to be sure to hand it to you as you’d said you’d come again the next day.’ He looked at her. ‘You never received it, did you? Oh, Junie, I’m so sorry. But I did write.’
‘Seems we’ve both had apologies and confessions to make.’ June swallowed. She couldn’t quite understand what was happening but she could sense some kind of change between them.
‘Will you forgive me for being such an idiot?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, Murray.’
He pulled her up from her chair. ‘Shorty made me realise you have to live for the day. Not worry about the future. None of us knows what’s going to happen, but if we don’t live in the present we’re not being true to ourselves.’ He drew her closer and she could feel the tension in his good arm.
She pulled away a fraction, her eyes sparkling. ‘I have a question.’
‘Anything.’
‘The little brooch you gave me. Since Matron left I wear it every day. It feels special to me.’ Her hand went instinctively to the collar of her navy-blue dress where she’d pinned it.
‘It is special.’
‘Does it have a meaning?’
‘Yes.’ He looked deep into her eyes and she thought she would melt. ‘It’s called a sweetheart brooch. A chap in the RAF gives it to his girl – his sweetheart.’
‘But you hardly knew me when you gave it to me,’ June protested. ‘I thought it must be a token of friendship, particularly when you later insisted we were only friends.’
‘What a bloody fool I was,’ he said again.
‘Yes, I think I have to agree with you there,’ she said, and sent him a mischievous smile but Murray’s expression remained serious.
‘I knew you were the girl for me when I first set eyes on you – that chance encounter on the train.’ He smoothed the hair from her forehead. ‘Tell me if this feels friendly,’ he whispered, and bent his head so that his mouth found hers. He planted little kisses at the corners of her mouth and lightly brushed her lips with his. He kissed her eyelids, along her jaw, on the tip of her nose, and back to a butterfly kiss on her mouth, until she ached for him to kiss her properly. When he did, his kiss was gentle, tender, but then he groaned and his kiss deepened and became more urgent as though he could never get enough of her, until her lips tingled and she put her hands through his tawny-coloured hair, using her fingers to press him closer … until she couldn’t tell if the wild beating was her heart or his.
‘You haven’t answered my question.’ His voice was husky when they finally drew apart.
‘I’ve forgotten what it was,’ June teased.
‘Did it feel friendly?’
‘I’m not sure’ – she laughed softly – ‘but maybe if you do it again, I can definitely confirm one way or the other.’
This time his kiss was as searching, as passionate, as magical as she could wish.
Shaken, she pulled away and gazed into his eyes.
‘I love you, Junie. I always have – now and forever.’
‘I love you, too.’
As Murray went to draw her closer again, Freddie suddenly barked and they practically leaped apart.
‘Trust him to spoil such a romantic moment,’ Murray laughed, looking down at the eager little dog, who was now nuzzling at their ankles and giving yelps of excitement.
‘I think he’s telling us he’s hungry,’ June said. ‘I’ll have to feed him.’ She opened the library door to running footsteps and childish laughter. Freddie cocked his head for a second or two, then dashed out.
‘Freddie! Here, boy!’ Murray ordered.
June put a hand on his arm to stop him going after the excited little dog.
‘Freddie’s come home!’ It was Lizzie, squealing with joy.
They watched as Freddie and Lizzie rushed towards one another, landing in a heap on the slippery floor. Lizzie threw her arms around the puppy’s neck. ‘Freddie’s come back,’ she shouted to a group of curious children who had gathered around her. She looked down at Freddie again. ‘Don’t you ever go away again.’ She wagged her finger at him and he wagged his tail in return.
Murray’s arm slid around her waist and pulled her to him.
‘I could say the same to you,’ he said, grinning and wagging his finger at her the way Lizzie had at Freddie. ‘Don’t you ever go away again.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
‘I never went away.’ June looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with happiness. ‘I was always here … waiting for you.’
After …
Bertie said she’d never seen anything like this in all the fifteen years she’d been the cook at Bingham Hall. The orphanage was buzzing with giggles and shouts as children rushed from different corners of the house to the library, every child full of importance in the task he or she had been given.
June put her head round the door of the art class, and Barbara immediately looked up and beckoned her in, a smile lighting her plump face. June watched Barbara help Betsy, Pamela and Janet place the last three wonky triangles, which the children had cut from odd scraps of material and worn-out clothes, for Barbara to stitch on to a long piece of tape.
‘Let me help. What can I do?’
‘They always say that when the job’s almost done,’ Barbara said w
ith a chuckle.
June grinned. ‘I’ll go and see how the library’s going then,’ she said.
‘Give us a few minutes,’ Barbara said, ‘and you can help get this bunting up.’
The last month had flown in a whirl. June still couldn’t believe she was actually engaged to be married to the dearest man on earth. She glanced at her ring as she did a hundred times a day to reassure herself it was really true – the beautiful ruby enclosed in a circle of tiny sparkling diamonds that had been Murray’s grandmother’s own engagement ring.
Iris had decided two engagements and a promotion were definitely an excuse to throw a party.
‘We’d never have been allowed anything like this with the Fierce One,’ she’d said, her eyes crinkling with laughter as she was making cocoa late one night in the kitchen, the day after June became engaged. ‘Thank goodness you’re now in charge. We can have a real knees-up, which is just what we need after all the awful news from the war.’ She poured hot water into the cups and stirred vigorously.
The two women had taken their drinks and sat on one of the kitchen chairs. Bertie had retreated to her cottage some time ago and the maids had long departed. They were silent for a few moments. Then Iris drew herself up and smiled at June.
‘We will win – we have to. But we’re going to think of nice things.’ She took a slurp of cocoa and caught June’s eye. ‘This place is so different now you’re the matron, Junie. Even the children sense it. The Fierce One got it completely wrong, dishing out punishment all the time for the least little thing. As far as I could see, she positively disliked children. You know, if it wasn’t for this damned war, life would be pretty near perfect.’