Kitabı oku: «The Linden Walk», sayfa 3
‘I reckon it went with her to her grave. Miss Julia wouldn’t want it back – not if every time she opened that box and saw it, it reminded her of Kitty. She loved that lass.’
‘A right little minx, but no one could help loving her. And so beautiful. Her and Drew would have had lovely bairns.’
‘Lyndis is beautiful, an’ all. Kitty’s opposite, in fact. Maybe as well,’ Tilda sighed. ‘And there’s cherry scones left over from the christening in the small tin. They’ll be past their best if we don’t eat them soon.’
Tilda sat in the kitchen rocker and closed her eyes and thought about how it had once been in Lady Helen’s time when that lovely lady, God rest her, came out of mourning for her husband and gave her first dinner party in three years. A simple meal, yet Mrs Shaw – once Rowangarth’s cook and God rest her, too – had been days and days preparing and cooking and garnishing so that everything might go well at her ladyship’s first timid footsteps back into society.
Well, now there would be Drew’s wedding, and with food not nearly so hard to come by Tilda Willis would be able to show the folk hereabouts how well Mrs Shaw had trained her up to the status of cook. Mrs Shaw’s standards, Tilda thought smugly, would be maintained as that dear lady would have expected.
‘Butter on your scone, or jam?’ Mary interrupted the reverie.
‘I think it might run to butter – though only a scraping, mind.’ Butter was still rationed. ‘And I’ll have the first pouring, please.’ Rowangarth’s cook did not like her tea strong. ‘And don’t forget Miss Clitherow. Jam and butter on hers.’
‘Very well.’ Miss Clitherow had come to Rowangarth as housekeeper when Helen Stormont married Sir John. Old, now, she spent her days in a ground-floor room, dozing and remembering – and being grateful to Miss Julia and young Sir Andrew for letting her live out her time with the family she had served through good times and bad. And through two terrible wars, an’ all. ‘Jam and butter it is, poor old lass.’
Yet she still had her wits about her, Mary was forced to concede, in spite of being nearer ninety than eighty and a little unsteady on her feet.
‘And there’s Drew, an’ all,’ Tilda reminded.
‘Sir Andrew,’ Mary corrected primly, ‘is at Foxgloves, with Daisy. Be talking about the wedding, I shouldn’t wonder. I suppose there’ll be nothing, now, but wedding talk. Wonder when it’ll be?’
‘Your guess, love, is as good as mine, though I hope they’ll wait for summer.’
Summer, Tilda thought. A June wedding and Rowangarth garden in all its glory. Flowers everywhere, warm sunny days, a marquee on the lawn and the special white orchids flowering. And herself rushed off her feet and loving every minute of it.
Tilda Willis was a very happy and contented woman. She’d had a long and anxious wait, mind, but Mr Right had turned up in the form of an Army Sergeant who was guarding whatever went on at Pendenys during the war, though no one would rightly ever know, she sighed. But yes. A very happy woman.
‘I phoned Lyn, last night. Managed to catch her before she went home from work.’
‘And does she still love you, bruv?’ Daisy smiled. ‘It’s still on, then?’
‘Love me? I – I suppose she does. Actually, Daiz, I didn’t ask.’
‘Didn’t ask, you great daft lummox; didn’t tell her you loved her?’
‘Actually – no. But she knows I do.’
‘Maybe so, but a girl likes to be told. Often!’
‘Sorry. Just that it’s going to take a bit of time getting used to it. It happened so suddenly. One minute I was escorting the lady home and the next, there I was, engaged.’
‘Hm.’ That hadn’t been Lyn’s version, Daisy considered, but what the heck? ‘She’ll have written to you?’ Letters could say more than words.
‘She has. In the post. I should get it tomorrow. And she’s written to Kenya, too. Sent a cable first, of course.’
‘I wish she was on the phone. I’ve got to wait for her to ring me. There’s so much we have to talk about.’
‘Then it’s going to have to keep till Friday, Daiz. That’s when she’s coming. Lyn was owed a shift by one of the other receptionists, so she’s called it in. I’ll be meeting her at York in the afternoon. Mother is going to the bank to get the rings out, on Thursday. Reckon we’ll both feel a bit more engaged when Lyn has got a ring on her finger.’
‘So you don’t feel very engaged at the moment, Drew?’
‘Of course I do. Only it’s like I said, everything happened so suddenly. I still can’t believe it – that I was so long in asking her, I mean. But we can talk about things at the weekend. It’ll work itself out.’
‘Yes. When you’ve had time to get used to it! But Lyn’s had all the time in the world to get used to it, as you say. The girl has been in love with you since the year dot! What’s the matter with you, Drew Sutton? Why aren’t you throwing your cap in the air? You aren’t having second thoughts, because if you are –’ her narrowed eyes met his across the kitchen table ‘– then all I can say is …’
‘Daisy, I am not having second thoughts! I’m going to marry Lyn, only it’s a bit up in the air at the moment. But we’ll talk about the wedding and by the time Lyn goes back to Llangollen, she’ll have a ring on her finger and we’ll have fixed a date.’
‘Oh – well – that’s all right, then,’ Daisy conceded. ‘A summer wedding would be lovely. Keth and I planned a summer wedding. The day after my twenty-first birthday it would have been, but for the dratted Army sending him back to Washington without so much as a by-your-leave or a quick forty-eight hours’ leave pass for us to get married. You and Lyn shouldn’t hang about.’
‘Daisy, love, there isn’t a war on, now. There’s all the time in the world for us to make plans. As a matter of fact, I do think a June wedding would be fine. Mother thinks so, too. But it’ll be what Lyn wants. She might want it to be soon – have a quiet wedding like Tatty and Bill are having. Mind, I hope she won’t. Pity no one is allowed to go abroad, yet. A honeymoon in Paris would have been great.’
‘Hard luck, bruv! When Keth and I were married Paris was occupied by Hitler’s lot. We made do with Winchester. But I don’t think where is important. Being together – married – is all that matters.’
‘Agreed. So are you going to put the kettle on? Tilda told me there were cherry scones left over from the christening. You wouldn’t have one left?’
‘I am, and I would. And you can have a couple. You used to adore cherry scones when you were little. I remember Mrs Shaw making them, and you nibbling the scone away till there was just the cherry left in the middle.’
‘You used to nibble too, Daiz. We all did, except Bas. He used to eat his cherry first so Kitty wouldn’t pinch it – and, oh dear …’
‘Yes. Kitty. You said her name, then looked all embarrassed and it’s got to stop. No one should be afraid to say her name, Drew. Kitty happened and she’s still with us because she was one of the Clan. She was a part of our growing up, and nothing can change it.’
‘Granted. And it was fine talking about her, until now. Lyn, I mean.’
‘You think she’ll be jealous? But why should she be? Tatty talks about Tim, still, and Bill accepts it as perfectly normal. Why should Lyn be any different?’
‘Sorry. You’re right, Daiz. Lyn isn’t the jealous sort, is she?’
‘Are you asking me, or telling me? Actually, she could be quite jealous of the Clan. She called it “Your precious Clan”. And once I caught her looking at the photo of us all – the one Aunt Julia took the Christmas before war started. She had quite a funny look in her eyes as if she wanted to be a part of it, yet was glad she wasn’t. Maybe she envied our closeness. Or maybe it was our growing up together. We did have a charmed life, you’ve got to admit it, Drew.’
‘I know. Wonderful days. But surely Lyn can be a part of it, now? Married to me, she’d qualify.’
‘No, she can’t. No one can. Kitty’s leaving it doesn’t mean there’s a vacancy. The Clan was our youth. No one is ever lost to it, and no one can ever join it. Not now. It was something – well, unique …’
‘And precious. When I was overseas and sometimes at sea for weeks on end and the heat unbearable, I’d think about the Clan, and where we used to meet.’
‘Mm. In the wild garden. And in summer we’d lie in the grass under the trees and talk and talk. I used to think about the Clan, too. I remember when Liverpool was blitzed, night after night. Lyn and I were two of the lucky ones. We were three floors underground, and protected by reinforced concrete. The safest place around. But when we saw the devastation it was horrifying, and we all had to shut our minds to it. Thinking of the Clan helped a lot.’
‘So am I allowed to nibble my scone – just one last time?’
‘You are,’ Daisy laughed, glad that they were back on an even keel again. ‘And I won’t pinch your cherry.’
‘Good old Daiz.’ Drew laughed with her, then said, ‘That’s the baby crying. Go to her – she sounds upset.’
‘It’s all right. Probably only just wind. I’ll bring her in and you can put her over your shoulder and pat her back. It’s quite rewarding when you get a burp out of her and you’ve got to learn how it’s done, Drew Sutton.’ She hurried out to return with a red-faced baby who had all at once stopped crying. ‘Ooh, the little madam. She only wanted attention. Here you are. Give her a cuddle.’
And Drew took his goddaughter who felt incredibly small and fragile in his arms and thought about the children Lyn so desperately wanted, and how good it would be, making them together. Tenderly he patted the little back and Mary Natasha nuzzled his neck then obliged with a burp which made him feel immensely proud and think that maybe after all, Lyn could be quite right. Having a baby – babies – might not be half bad.
‘I’ll keep her for a few minutes, get her to sleep for you whilst you have your tea and scone, Daiz.’
And Daisy wrinkled her nose at him and said, ‘Thanks, bruv,’ and thought how very much she loved him – and wanted him to be happy.
As happy as she and Keth.
FOUR
‘Want to know something, Bill Benson?’ Tatiana Sutton kicked off her shoes with a cluck of contentment, tucking her feet beneath her, snuggling closer.
‘So tell me,’ he smiled.
‘If you kiss me, I will.’
He kissed the tip of her nose. These days, he was always careful not to indulge in petting sessions because he knew exactly where they could lead. More than once he had admitted – to himself, of course – that keeping lovemaking until their wedding night had been a decision he should never have made. His own fault, always having been a bit holier-than-thou about taking liberties with the opposite sex, because someone had taken liberties with his mother, which had landed the resulting bairn – himself – in an orphanage when only one month old. Too much of a burden, he had been told later, for a bit of a lassie hardly into her sixteenth year to shoulder alone.
So he had accepted, very early in life, that that kind of behaviour wasn’t on and that no bairn of his would be born out of wedlock because no matter how kindly an orphanage he’d been brought up in he had always envied the kids in school who had two parents living under one roof, even if legitimate fathers were known to leather small boys’ behinds or sometimes come home the worse for drink on pay days.
‘You got your kiss – now tell me,’ he demanded.
‘Oh, just that I’m happy. It was lovely having Bas’s lot to stay, but it’s nice having the place to ourselves again with no one to interrupt us.’
‘There’s Karl …’
‘Karl doesn’t count. Grandmother Petrovska insisted he stayed on here when mother married Ewart Pryce and I was left alone in “that beeg place without a chaperon and heffen only knows what might happen to an innocent girl alone” Tatiana mimicked. ‘And don’t let him fool you. Karl understands English even though he won’t speak it – well, only to me.’
‘I often wonder about him – his background, I mean. I sometimes miss Scotland, but at least I know I can go there whenever I want. Karl can’t go back to Russia.’
‘True. Him once being a Cossack and loyal to the Tzar, it wouldn’t be wise. But he never speaks about his past. He attached himself to our family when they were trying to get out of Russia, and Mother told me they wouldn’t have made it without him. That’s why he’s still with us. We owe him.’
‘He’s very protective of you,’ Bill frowned.
‘I know he is, but you needn’t worry. When we are married I shall ask him if he wants to go back to London to Grandmother Petrovska and Uncle Igor.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘Then he stays here, at Denniston. He’s no trouble, and he does all the gardening, remember.’
‘I’m no’ complaining.’ Bill Benson’s philosophy was to live and let live.
‘Good. So tell me, who rang you this morning?’
‘London. The agent I got in touch with wants me to go down there with my portfolio, and if he thinks I’m any good he’ll take me on. Mind, he’ll take ten per cent of all I make but he’ll earn every penny of it – do the selling and see to contracts and that sort of thing. He’ll haggle about price, too, something I’m not much use at.’
‘Of course he’ll take you on. You’re good. When shall you go?’
‘Soon …’
‘Then if you intend staying overnight, ask Aunt Julia if you can stay at Montpelier Mews. No point paying hotel bills when there’s a bed for the asking, for free.’
‘I thought it was we Scots who were meant to be mean! You Russians are every bit as canny.’
‘I’m not Russian – well, only half so. And born and bred in England. Do you mind, darling, that grandmother is a countess and that, as the daughter of a countess, mother is entitled to the courtesy, too. At least, that’s the way it used to be, in Russia. Mind, I shall be happy to be Mrs Benson. Are you looking forward to our wedding?’
‘Of course I am. It’ll be winter, soon, and gui’ cold in that studio of mine. Can’t wait to move in here.’
‘It was your own choice to stay put, so don’t moan. Let’s face it, here we are almost alone, and you still go on about waiting till our wedding night. It’s not a lot of fun when things get passionate and you start counting to ten. You’re always the one to put a stop to it and it ought to be the girl who says no.’
‘You’re joking, Miss Sutton.’
‘I’m joking, darling. But I’ll be glad when we’re married. December is a good time for a wedding. Short days, long cold nights. If this coal rationing lark goes on for very much longer, bed will be the only warm place.’
‘Tatiana!’ He let out a laugh. ‘Have you no shame? The granddaughter of a countess, reared by a nanny, taught by a French governess, with Karl always hovering to make sure the wind didn’t blow on you! Whatever happened to that ladylike lassie?’
‘The war happened, Bill,’ she said softly, eyes sad. ‘Oh, I know wars are immoral, but that one gave a whole generation of women their freedom. This ladylike lassie was away like a shot to London, translating.’
‘And you met a lot of wounded airmen …?’
‘Yes. And I met you, Bill.’
‘But what made you do it, darling? Escorting airmen with their faces burned away – didn’t it embarrass you, showing them around London, with people looking away and –’
‘No, it didn’t. I did it for Tim. And your face wasn’t as badly burned as some.’
‘No. I was blind,’ he offered without rancour.
‘Yes, but you aren’t now. Tell me, Bill –’ She changed the subject quickly, so she needn’t think about Tim. ‘– are you always going to paint flowers and florals?’
‘Why not? It’s what I do best and it brings in the shekels. I’m not going to live off my wife!’
‘No one wants you to, so don’t get all Scottish prickly about it! Just because I’m not short of a pound or two doesn’t mean you’re a kept man.’
‘Not short! The way I see it you’re filthy rich!’
‘I’ve been lucky. Mother didn’t have to marry money, exactly, but it seemed fortunate at the time that she fell in love where money grew on trees. And because of it, a lot of it came my way, through my father. Us Petrovskas hadn’t a bean. Left it all behind in St Petersburg – sorry, Leningrad.’
‘Aye, and when your granny died she left you this house, an’ all.’
‘True. But Grandmother Clementina, as I have often said, probably did it when she was tanked up on brandy. She hit the bottle in a big way, when my father was killed. And she didn’t leave it to me, exactly. Denniston House was her wedding present to my parents and she left things the way they were. If you want to split hairs, it was Grandfather Sutton who willed the money to me. He was a darling; didn’t deserve to be married to Clementina.’
An absolute old love, who had understood about Tim. The only grown-up, it had seemed, she could trust with her secret.
‘But Tatty – why should the old lady have taken on so? She had two other sons.’
‘Yes, but they weren’t her precious Elliot!’
‘That’s a gui’ peculiar way to speak of your dead father.’
‘Why is it? He didn’t like me. I was a girl. Why should I like him?’
‘Dislike a man you don’t even remember,’ Bill said softly, heeding the narrowed eyes, the disapproving mouth.
‘I do remember him. At least, I remember memories. Always unhappiness, and my mother sobbing …’
‘Then one thing I promise. I’ll not make you cry, sweetheart. And I’m in danger of getting sentimental and sloppy so I’d best be away to my celibate garret,’ he grinned. ‘Besides, I need to be up early – get the morning light. I aim to have the watercolour finished tomorrow – want something half-decent to show to the agent.’
‘Must you go, just yet?’ Tatiana teased her fingertips over his face. ‘It’ll be cold in the loft and you haven’t any paraffin left for your stove …’
‘Aye! We won a war and three years on we’re still rationed! Four-page newspapers, ninety miles of petrol a month for cars, a shortage of coal and the RAF airlifting food to Berlin instead of bombing it!’
‘Never mind. At the end of this month we’ll be allowed to use gas and electric fires again, so on October first you’ll be able to plug in and warm up.’
‘So I will. But why is this country in such a mess? It’s like we’re still at war. They’ve even rationed bread, now, and bread was never rationed, as I remember it, even though most of our wheat was brought here in convoys!’
‘Darling! I love it when you get on your soapbox – especially when you have a dig at Mr Attlee, and you a red-hot socialist! The war cost a lot of money – I suppose it’s got to be paid for, now. And you’ve got your National Health Service at long last. Free false teeth, free spectacles, pills and potions and operations for nothing. And no doctors’ bills coming in every month! So kiss me goodnight and go to bed. Would you like a hot-water bottle?’ she asked, eyes impish.
‘So what do you take me for – a jessie, or something?’
They were laughing now, and kissing, with Tatiana murmuring, ‘I love you, Sergeant Benson. Can’t wait for December.’
‘And you, hennie darling, will get your bottom spanked if you don’t stop your teasing! So one more kiss, then throw me out, eh?’
At the door he turned.
‘Oh and by the way, Miss Sutton, I love you, too. Even though you’re a filthy capitalist, I love you a lot!’
‘There now. The Whitecliffe jewels.’ Julia Sutton arranged lockets, necklaces and rings on the coffee table beside the fire. ‘I’ll leave the pair of you to it. Take what you want, Lyndis.’
‘They’re so beautiful.’ Lyn took a heavy gold locket containing a lock of pale yellow baby hair. ‘Who did this curl belong to?’
‘Haven’t a clue, though I’d like to think it was my mother’s hair,’ Julia smiled. ‘Mother was very fair. Glad you like them. Didn’t think you young ones would go for old-fashioned stuff like this.’
‘Old-fashioned, Mrs Sutton? But they’re family history. Much more special than going to a jeweller’s and asking to try on the third one down on the left of tray twenty-six.’
‘If there were decent rings in the shops to choose from, don’t you mean, Lyn? Why is this war lasting so long – the shortages, I mean. Do without. Export or die, the government tells us. Tighten your belts. Though I suppose it’s better, now, than it was after my war,’ Julia frowned. ‘At least war heroes aren’t being thrown on the scrapheap this time around, and forced to beg or sell bootlaces on street corners. It was an obscene war.’
‘Don’t, dearest.’ Drew took his mother’s hand and squeezed it tightly. ‘Your war and my war – they’re both over, now. It’s just that it’s taking longer than we thought to clear up after this one, and – I’ll get it,’ he said, as the phone began to ring.
He hurried into the hall and it gave Lyn the chance to say, ‘Look – I’m not being awful, or anything, but is – well – is Kitty’s ring amongst these? I wouldn’t want to choose hers and upset Drew.’
‘No, Lyndis. Kitty’s ring was opals and pearls and she – we-e-ll – it went with her.’
‘Good. I’m glad. I mean, I’m glad she was – was –’
‘Wearing it at the end,’ Julia said, matter-of-factly. ‘And you might as well know the whole of it. She wore her wedding dress, too. Amelia – her mother – sent one over from America for her. It was hanging here at Rowangarth with a sheet draped over it, waiting till they could be married.’
‘Then I’m glad she wore it, but so sad …’ Lyn whispered.
‘Sad. I told Drew when I wrote to him after the funeral. He agreed with what I had done. He was in the Pacific …’
‘I remember.’
‘Of course you do! You and Daisy were Wrens together. Sorry, Lyndis. Shouldn’t have said what I did.’
‘But I began it, asking about Kitty’s ring. Just because Drew and I are going to be married doesn’t wipe out all memory of her. They were deeply in love, and I accept it.’
‘So were Andrew and I. Passionately. But love can come again – remember that if you have doubts. Tell yourself that love can happen twice, though differently. It did for Nathan and me. Kitty was, is, and always will be. It’s going to be up to you, Lyndis, how you handle it, but never forget that I do understand and if ever you want to talk to me about anything –’
‘Talk about what?’ Drew stood in the doorway. ‘Secrets between you already?’
‘Idiot! Of course not. With her mother in Kenya, I offered to stand in if Lyndis wanted to talk about – well, you know – woman’s things. Anyway, who was that on the phone?’
‘Daisy. She insists we go over so she can admire the ring – she wants to have a wish on it, she says.’
‘It took you a long time to say that,’ Julia smiled, relieved the awkward moment had passed.
‘Not really. I had a word with Keth, too. About cars.’
‘So now you can have a word with your intended – about rings. And make sure you’ve got your key with you when you go out. I’m going to meet Polly at the Bothy at eight – okay? And like I said, Lyndis – feel free …’
And with that she was off, banging the door behind her, taking the stairs two at a time, as she always did.
‘Have you chosen?’ Drew asked softly.
‘N-no. I haven’t even looked, properly. I feel embarrassed, sort of; don’t want to pick out the biggest and best.’
‘Why ever not? It wouldn’t worry Mother. She’s never been one for jewellery; keeps giving pieces of this lot away. She gave Lady pearl eardrops for her twenty-first and Daisy got a sapphire and diamond brooch as a christening present. There are a couple I like, though.’ He laid two rings on his hand; one a sapphire, one an emerald. ‘Mother would want you to have something decent. Feel free, like she said.’
‘I like them, too. They’re both beautiful,’ Lyndis whispered, wishing her cheeks didn’t burn so. ‘I think you should choose, for all that.’
‘Then the emerald it is. It matches your eyes, Lyn. Try it on.’
‘Tell you what – the ring that fits best must be the one.’
‘Then it looks like it’s the emerald,’ Drew smiled when the square-cut stone set with diamonds slipped on easily, whilst the sapphire refused to budge past her knuckle.
‘The emerald it is. And anyway, Daisy has a sapphire ring. Wouldn’t want her to think I was copying hers. Will you put it on for me, Drew, and kiss me? And then we’ll put everything back in the box and give it to your mother, before she goes out. She’ll want to know which one I’ve chosen. And will you tell me why I feel so light-headed and floaty? I can’t seem to take all this in.’
‘We-e-ll, I ought to say it’s because of the wonder of the moment, but it’s probably because you arrived late and didn’t want any supper. Now give me your hand, Lyn Carmichael, and bless you for saying you’ll have me. I promise we’ll be happy, cariad.’
‘Drew! Who told you the Welsh for darling?’
‘Who do you think? The adorable Blod, of course, that time we stayed with her. Have you heard from her, yet?’
‘About us? No. She won’t have got my letter, though I think she’ll cable me back when she’s had time to get over the shock.’
‘You’re happy about us, Lyn?’ He tilted her chin, kissing her gently.
‘I’m happy. I’m very happy, Drew.’
‘Fine. So let’s return the sparklers, then go and see Daiz …’
It was as they walked hand in hand to Foxgloves that Drew said, ‘By the way, if we decide on a summer wedding, how about June the eighteenth? Entirely up to you, mind – will it be okay for you date-wise? The curse, I’m talking about.’
‘I – I – yes. Fine,’ she gasped, cheeks blazing, taken aback by the nonchalant reference to her periods. Drew had always been so quiet; never had a sister of his own. Not a live-in sister to talk to about such things. He’d been in the Navy, of course. There would have been talk on the mess decks, she supposed.
Yet the explanation was simple. Drew and Kitty had been lovers, would have discussed such things. They’d have had to, though Lyn was as sure as she could be that Kitty wouldn’t have cared if she got pregnant, wouldn’t have –
‘Penny for them?’ Drew smiled.
‘I – oh, nothing of importance, really. Dates, I suppose. I ring them round as soon as I start a new diary, so I’m sure the eighteenth is fine.’
The ease with which she spoke amazed her; the laugh, too.
‘That’s settled, then. Daiz will be glad about that. She’s been going on about it all week. And might I ask what you find so funny?’
‘You and me, Drew, that’s what. Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh about something so important, but think – a week ago we were friends, yet now we’re all at once – well, personal. So can we,’ she said breathlessly, ‘whilst we’re on the subject of things personal, talk about children, too?’
‘Fine by me. You want some, don’t you? I know I do.’
‘I want children, Drew, and I’d like to have them before I’m thirty, or at least have made a start. So if you don’t mind, I’d like us not to worry about – well …’
‘Being careful? A honeymoon baby?’
‘Exactly,’ she whispered, taken aback once more by his directness, knowing that almost certainly he had talked this way before.
‘Okay. Point taken. Where are we going for our honeymoon, by the way? Abroad is out, thanks to the government’s stupid restrictions. Paris would have been great. And there’s Daisy, waiting for us.’ Quickly, he kissed her cheek. ‘Impatient as ever.’
And though it was almost dark, Lyn could hear the smile in his voice and was grateful for it. And love for him washed over her and made her glad. Happy, she supposed, or as near as made no matter. If Kitty wasn’t so often there to remind her, that was.
‘Hi there, Purvis,’ she called and ran into Daisy’s welcoming arms.
‘Let’s be seeing it then,’ Daisy laughed, holding up her cheek for Drew’s kiss, shoo-ing them into the sitting room. ‘Oh, my goodness, Carmichael. What a beauty!’ She held out her hand for the ring, slipping it on, closing her eyes as she turned it three times on her finger. ‘And don’t ask me what I wished for ’cause I’m not telling.’
‘Just a minute, ladies, before you start oh-ing and ah-ing over rings and weddings and things,’ Keth laughed. ‘Would you mind telling me why the pair of you still use each other’s surname? You aren’t in the Forces, now.’
‘True, Keth. But we both did a fair stint in the war, and using surnames was the order of the day. We’re bound to revert, sometimes, to the old ways. Daisy will always be Wren Purvis-from-the-bottom-bunk to me.’
‘And I was so glad to be Purvis – remember, Lyn? Dwerryhouse was such a drag of a name. The times people said, “Dwerry-what? How do you spell it?” So now you know, darling, and why don’t you two pop upstairs to the cubbyhole whilst we talk about rings and weddings and things. You said you had something you wanted to talk to Drew about. And don’t wake the baby,’ she warned as they disappeared, fugitives from wedding talk. ‘And I shouldn’t tell you what I wished for, but do you want two or three …?’
‘Three, please,’ Lyn laughed, ‘though four would be marvellous. That house is big enough for ten children. And oh, Daisy, you’re such a love. Did I ever tell you so?’
‘Often. But only because it’s completely true.’
So they laughed again and it was as if they were Leading-Wren Carmichael and Purvis-from-the-bottom-bunk again and lived in a billet called Hellas House in bomb-shattered Liverpool, and worked underground in a hot, airless Communications Office. Because they knew they would never completely forget their war, nor would they want to. Good times and bad.
‘Well now. This is a lovely surprise. Do sit down, Miss Lyndis.’
‘Thanks. But could you call me just Lyndis or Lyn, Miss Clitherow? Drew said you wanted to see my ring.’
‘Well, not really. I have seen your emerald before. What I really wanted was the chance to wish you much happiness. It makes an old lady very glad to see it all coming right for Sir Andrew, you know. And could I presume to ask you to open the window a little? Can’t abide a stuffy room. Most kind …’
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