Nightingales Under the Mistletoe

by Donna Douglas

  Her voice was almost lost under the sound of hammering, and for a moment Millie wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Amelia. We have to be practical. You need someone to help you run the estate.’

  ‘I have Mr Rodgers,’ Millie pointed out.

  Her grandmother gave a tsk of irritation. ‘That isn’t what I meant, as you well know,’ she said. ‘I’m only thinking of you, Amelia. You’re twenty-six, far too young to be widowed. You shouldn’t be alone.’

  ‘I’m not alone. I have Henry. And you,’ she added.

  ‘You can’t spend the rest of your life locked up here with an old woman and a small boy!’ Lady Rettingham replied dismissively. ‘It isn’t fair on you or Henry. He needs a father.’

  ‘And I need someone to run the estate for me, do I, because I’m not capable of doing it on my own?’ Millie said.

  Her grandmother’s silence spoke volumes.

  Millie was saved from answering by a knock on the door. ‘I expect that will be the Quartering Commandant,’ she said, moving past her grandmother. ‘I’d better go and see him, since I don’t have a man to do it for me!’

  But it wasn’t the Quartering Commandant. Their housemaid, Grace Maynard, stood in the hall. From her embarrassed expression, Millie guessed she must have heard their argument.

  ‘I just wanted to say goodbye, your ladyship,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s my last day today.’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course. You’re joining the VADs, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, your ladyship.’ Grace’s face lit up with pride. She was a solidly built girl, with wide hazel eyes and thick sandy hair scraped back off her broad, smiling face.

  ‘We’ll miss you,’ Millie said. Grace’s resignation had caused her grandmother much consternation, especially as they couldn’t seem to find a replacement maid. It was yet another of the Dowager Countess’s grievances against the war.

  ‘I’ll miss this place too, your ladyship.’

  ‘How long have you worked here?’

  ‘Ten years, your ladyship. Since I was thirteen years old. It’s all I’ve ever known …’

  The girl’s eyes were filled with apprehension, and Millie rushed to reassure her. ‘But I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time at the hospital,’ she said. ‘It’s such worthwhile work, although it can be very hard.’

  ‘I don’t mind hard work,’ Grace said stoutly.

  ‘I know that, Grace.’ As far as Millie was aware, the girl had never missed a day’s work in her life. She was there first thing in the morning, cleaning out the grates, and last thing at night. No wonder Grandmother was so devastated at the prospect of losing her.

  ‘Wait there a moment,’ said Milie. She left Grace in the hall while she went to fetch her purse. ‘I want you to take this, as a token of our appreciation for all your years of service …’

  She went to hand her the five pound note, but Grace shrank back from it as if Millie was offering her a venomous snake.

  ‘Oh, no, your ladyship, I didn’t come for that—’

  ‘I know you didn’t, Grace. But I want you to have it anyway. Call it an early Christmas present, to buy yourself something nice.’

  ‘Thank you, your ladyship.’ Grace couldn’t meet her eyes as she took the money reluctantly. ‘It’ll come in very useful, I’m sure.’ Millie walked her through the hall, past three men from the Office of Works who were setting up ladders to take down the pictures hanging there.

  At the front door Grace stopped abruptly, like a horse refusing a fence.

  ‘It’s not right, your ladyship.’ She shook her head in confusion. ‘Servants never use the front door …’

  ‘Yes, but you’re not a servant any more, are you?’ Millie smiled at her. She opened the door. ‘Goodbye, Grace,’ she said. ‘And good luck.’

  ‘Thank you, your ladyship.’

  Grace hesitated for a moment, then took a step through. As she did, she lifted her face to the sky and smiled, and suddenly it was as if the sun had split the grey clouds, bathing her in golden light.

  Millie watched her springing down the steps, so full of joy and hope. How she envied the girl her freedom. She was starting a new life, doing a job where she would be truly useful and valued. Millie envied her.

  She turned back to see the men about to take down the portrait of her mother that hung over the fireplace facing the front door. One was up the ladder, while the other two stood below him, waiting to take the painting’s weight.

  ‘Wait!’ Millie left the front door open and hurried towards them. ‘Are you taking that down, too?’

  ‘We were told it was to go into storage,’ one of the men spoke up.

  Millie stared at the portrait. Her mother, Lady Charlotte, smiled back at her, calm and beautiful. People always said they looked alike, but Millie couldn’t see it. Lady Charlotte was far more composed and graceful than Millie would ever be, her fair hair arranged in waves around a heart-shaped face, with clear blue eyes that seemed so full of life.

  The thought of putting her into a cold, dark storage room made Millie sad. This was more than just paint on canvas to her. It was the only connection she had to the mother who had died giving birth to her. She often stood in front of it when she felt sad or alone, and tried to imagine her mother offering her words of solace and comfort.

  But as she’d told her grandmother, they all had to make sacrifices.

  She turned to the men, who were waiting expectantly for her instructions. ‘Take it down,’ she said.

  As she turned away, she was suddenly aware of another man standing in the open doorway. Tall, dark and slimly built, even in his unfamiliar RAF uniform Millie knew him instantly.

  She stared at him, stunned. Surely it couldn’t be … could it?

  ‘Hello, Millie,’ he said.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘WILLIAM?’

  She stared at him, stunned. The last time Millie had seen Dr William Tremayne was the day after her State Finals. She’d left the Nightingale behind to start her new life with Sebastian, never expecting to see the hospital or William again.

  But here he was, standing in her hall, large as life.

  He looked rueful. ‘I’m sorry, I should have let you know I was coming. But when I saw the name of the house on the requisitioning letter … well, you know I could never resist springing a surprise.’

  He grinned, and in spite of the unfamiliar uniform Millie suddenly saw again the handsome, boyish young housemen who’d stolen her heart when she was eighteen years old.

  ‘I don’t understand. Are you the Quartering Commandant?’

  ‘Good lord, no, he’s just having a snoop around outside. I’m attached to the squadron that’s going to be stationed here. We’re going to be neighbours.’

  While she was still taking this in, another man strode in. He was fair and stockily built, with a thick moustache.

  ‘Plenty of grounds at the front for the vehicles, sir,’ he reported, ‘and there are some outbuildings that could be useful …’ He saw Millie and stopped dead. ‘Oh! I beg your pardon.’

  ‘Millie, may I present our Quartering Commandant, Flight Sergeant Ellis? Bob, this is our hostess, Lady Amelia Rushton.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, your ladyship.’ Colour crept up from Ellis’s collar.

  ‘Sergeant,’ Millie greeted him, aware all the time of William’s dark eyes on her. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll let my grandmother know you’re here.’

  ‘There’s no need.’ Lady Rettingham appeared in the doorway to the drawing room.

  It amused Millie to watch the two men freeze like rabbits caught in the sights of a gun. The Dowager Countess was a formidable figure, and her hauteur could reduce the temperature in a room by several degrees.

  ‘Granny, this is Flight Sergeant Ellis, the Quartering Commandant I told you about. And this is—’

  ‘Squadron Leader Tremayne,’ William finished for her. ‘I have been ap
pointed as your liaison officer. Pleased to meet you, Lady Rettingham.’

  She looked frostily at the hand he offered, but didn’t deign to take it.

  ‘And what, pray, is a liaison officer?’

  William let his hand drop to his side. ‘It’s my job to ensure you’re satisfied with the arrangements, and to deal with any problems as they occur.’

  Lady Rettingham’s brows arched. ‘Then I suspect, Squadron Leader, you are going to be a very busy man.’

  William cleared his throat. ‘I do sympathise, Lady Rettingham,’ he said. ‘This is a difficult situation for everyone.’

  ‘Is it?’ the Dowager replied icily. ‘Tell me, have you been turned out of your home?’

  William looked nonplussed by the question. ‘I—’

  ‘Shall we make a start?’ Millie broke in desperately.

  ‘Sergeant Ellis and I can look around the house by ourselves, if it would be more convenient?’ William said, recovering himself.

  Millie opened her mouth to reply, but her grandmother got in first.

  ‘Certainly not,’ she replied with asperity. ‘This is still our home. For now, at least.’

  William inclined his head. ‘As you wish, Lady Rettingham.’

  It was odd for her to listen to the two men, walking from room to room of her home, coldly discussing how each one could best be used. The dining room was to be the officers’ mess, the library their briefing room, Millie’s father’s old study the Wing Commander’s office. Other rooms were to be used for training, communications and intelligence, recreation and equipment storage. Millie tried to remind herself it was all for the war effort, but it was difficult to see her home torn apart before her eyes.

  All the time, she kept her gaze fixed on William’s tall, dark figure. She could hardly believe he was here, in her house. It was as if a tiny fragment of time had dislodged itself from the past and drifted into the present.

  As they went out to inspect the stables and outbuildings, William fell into step beside her.

  ‘I must say, you’re being extraordinarily good about this,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen peers of the realm in tears at the prospect of leaving their homes. Grown men sobbing over the loss of their orangerie or billiard room.’

  Millie shrugged. ‘It has to be done, doesn’t it? Besides, it seems rather unfair to have such a large house for the three of us, and not put it to some good use.’

  William paused, and Millie braced herself, knowing what was to come.

  ‘I heard about your husband,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I understand he was a fine officer.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but he was a fine man,’ Millie replied quietly. ‘You must miss him?’

  ‘Of course.’ She changed the subject. ‘So you fly bombers?’

  ‘Not at the moment. I took a bit of a battering a while back, so—’

  ‘You were hurt?’

  ‘Not too badly. I’m fit to fly again, but they’ve put me in charge of training the raw recruits for the time being.’

  ‘And you’ll be billeted here?’

  ‘That’s right.’ He glanced sideways at her. She caught the look in his dark eyes and realised that he was testing her, silently sounding out her reaction to him.

  She was an eighteen-year-old girl, enjoying her first taste of freedom in London, when William Tremayne first came into her life. He was her room-mate Helen’s elder brother, a sweet and charming rogue, and all the nurses loved him.

  William had set his sights on Millie and for a while it looked as if she might be the one to tame him. But their romance, such as it was, had fizzled out when Millie fell in love with Sebastian. And when they married and she returned to live at Billinghurst, she left her old, girlish life – and William – behind her.

  She was pleased and relieved to discover that she didn’t react to him the way she used to, that she was no longer the hopeless little eighteen-year-old student whose heart skipped a beat whenever he walked on to the ward. It might have made life very awkward for them both if she had been.

  As it was, having a familiar face around might actually make things easier for all of them, she decided.

  ‘Then I hope you’ll be very happy here,’ she said.

  The tour ended, and they returned to the entrance hall. As Sergeant Ellis attended to his list, William thanked their hosts.

  ‘You have been most accommodating,’ he said to Millie.

  ‘Hasn’t she?’ Lady Rettingham said, tight-lipped.

  Millie ignored her. ‘When do you think you’ll move in?’ she asked William.

  ‘In the next week or two, I think.’

  ‘So you’ll be throwing us out before Christmas?’ her grandmother said.

  Embarrassed, Millie said, ‘Granny, please! You make it sound positively Dickensian.’

  ‘And what would you call it? Two defenceless women and a child turned out of their own home. As if we haven’t lost enough.’ The Dowager Countess fished in her pocket for her lace-edged handkerchief.

  Millie glanced sideways at her grandmother. She was putting on the sentimentality again. She must have conveniently forgotten that it was vulgar for a lady to show her emotions in public.

  William seemed to understand what she was doing. He stared at her, unmoved. ‘I assure you, Lady Rettingham, that given the choice most of the men in the squadron would rather be in their own homes than yours this Christmas. I know I would.’

  Touché, Millie thought, glancing at her grandmother. There was a combative light in her eyes as she dabbed at her non-existent tears.

  The men left and Millie braced herself, waiting for what was to come.

  ‘Well, I must say, you didn’t put up much of a fight,’ Lady Rettingham said, immediately recovering herself. ‘Offering them the outbuildings without a murmur.’

  ‘I’m just being practical,’ Millie argued. ‘The men have to sleep somewhere.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Millie could feel her grandmother’s keen gaze upon her. ‘You seemed rather friendly with Squadron Leader Tremayne, too.’

  Millie hesitated, wondering if she should tell her. There was no point in hiding it, her grandmother would find out sooner or later. Lady Rettingham found everything out in the end.

  ‘William was a doctor at the Nightingale while I was training.’ She saw her grandmother’s wince of distaste. Lady Rettingham preferred to draw a veil over Millie’s brief career as a nurse. As far as she was concerned, those three years were a kind of temporary madness that was never to be spoken of. ‘But don’t worry, Granny, those days are well and truly gone.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Amelia.’ Lady Rettingham’s comment was laced with meaning.

  ‘Well, that seemed to go well. Better than I’d been expecting at any rate.’ Bob Ellis sat behind the wheel of the car and shook a cigarette out of his packet. ‘The old girl was a bit of a battleaxe, but that’s nothing unusual.’ He lit his cigarette and took a long drag. ‘Lady Amelia seemed nice, though.’

  William’s attention was fixed on the mellow honey-coloured stone façade of the house. It was a stunning place, with its gables and mullioned windows. He hoped it wouldn’t be ruined.

  ‘Millie’s a lovely girl,’ he replied absently.

  ‘Millie?’

  ‘I used to know her. She was a nurse at the hospital where I used to be a doctor.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ The Quartering Commandant sent him a questioning sideways look. ‘Bit of romance, was there?’

  William laughed. ‘Not in the way you’re thinking! As a matter of fact, it was all very innocent and chaste.’

  Although not for want of trying on his part. He’d been captivated by Millie from the first moment he saw her. Not just attracted, but entranced. Millie Rushton was the closest he had ever come to falling in love.

  ‘Well, that could work out very well for you, couldn’t it? Having her living next door. Chance to renew old acquaintances, if you see what I mean?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Bob.’ If he was hone
st, that had been on William’s mind when he’d arranged to come down and see her. But he’d hardly recognised Millie when he’d walked into the house. The sweet, lively, fun-loving girl he’d known had been replaced by a sombre, brittle young woman. ‘She’s changed,’ he said.

  ‘Hardly surprising, is it? The bloody war’s changed all of us, one way or another.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ William agreed heavily. In a way, he was relieved that he hadn’t felt an attraction to her. It would make life a lot easier, he decided.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘HOW DO I look?’ Grace turned away from the mirror to face her sister.

  ‘Let’s see …’ Daisy inspected her closely. ‘Your collar could be a bit straighter. And you’re going to need some more pins in that cap.’

  Grace turned back to her reflection and reached for a hairpin, but her hands were shaking so much it slipped from her grasp.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Daisy worked busily, pinning the starched linen into place and tucking stray strands of Grace’s hair underneath it.

  Grace watched her in the mirror, marvelling at her skill. ‘You’re so quick,’ she said. ‘I’ll never be able to do it as well as you.’

  ‘You will, once you’ve practised it enough times.’ Daisy stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘There, that’s better.’

  Grace admired her reflection shyly. She hardly recognised herself. The blue VAD’s dress was so smart, with its stiff starched collar and cuffs, she didn’t think she would ever want to take it off.

  ‘Come on,’ said Daisy, throwing her navy blue cloak over her uniform. ‘You don’t want to be late on your first day, do you?’

  She moved to the door but Grace stayed rooted to the spot. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, but now it was here she was suddenly filled with apprehension.

  ‘I wish we were on the same ward, Dais,’ she said.

  Her sister smiled. ‘I know, Gracie, but Matron would never allow it because we’re so busy on Female Medical. Anyway, you’ll be all right on the Military Ward, I’m sure. Miss Wallace the ward sister is meant to be an angel. And think of all the handsome soldiers you’ll meet!’