She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. It had been such a shock, finding all those carefully written letters. There had been a letter from Sam’s mum, too, passing on the terrible news that he had been killed during the siege of Tobruk. ‘Why did you go on writing to him, Jess?’
She turned her face slightly, so Effie couldn’t see into her eyes. ‘I – I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I kept meaning to stop, but somehow I couldn’t. I thought if I carried on writing to him it would mean he was still out there, reading them. In the end my letters turned into a kind of journal. I could pour out all my troubles to Sam, and imagine what he might say about them. It made me feel – I don’t know – closer to him.’
‘But it wasn’t just the letters,’ Effie said. ‘You talked about him as if he were still alive, too.’
The scar at Jess’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. ‘I couldn’t help it,’ she said. ‘You started talking about him, and I thought if I told you what had happened, you’d start asking questions, and I’d have to drag it all up again … But then the longer I kept up the pretence, the worse it got. It reached the point where I couldn’t tell you. I was afraid you’d think I’d gone mad.’ Jess turned her dark eyes to Effie’s, pleading for understanding.
Effie didn’t reply. She didn’t like to say so to Jess, but she feared her friend had been gripped by a kind of madness, denying the truth of what had happened to her boyfriend. It had taken Harry’s death and her illness to bring her to crisis point.
Perhaps now the crisis was over and the truth was out, Jess could slowly start to rebuild her life.
Dr Drake came into the sick bay, carrying a book.
‘Here’s that Wilkie Collins novel I was telling you about,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like to—’ He looked up and stopped dead when he saw Effie sitting there. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.’ A vivid blush flooded his face.
‘Dr Drake was telling me about an author he thinks I might like,’ Jess told Effie.
‘Is that right?’ Effie looked up at Dr Drake, then back at Jess. She was blushing too.
Chapter Fifty-One
THAT AFTERNOON, JESS was surprised to get a visit from Sarah Newland.
‘I heard you were ill,’ she said. ‘Makes a change, doesn’t it? Me coming to visit you in hospital, instead of the other way round?’
Jess smiled. ‘I’m not a very good patient, I’m afraid. I’m not really used to being waited on.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Sarah grinned. ‘But from what the doctor says, you’re going to have to get used to it.’
‘I know!’ Jess closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine lying still for five weeks. ‘How are you, anyway? How’s little Jess?’
‘Getting bigger every day!’ Sarah beamed with pride. ‘Oh, Jess, I’m so lucky to have her. She’s like a miracle.’
‘I’m glad things are going well for you.’ Jess frowned. ‘But who’s looking after the baby today?’
A blush rose in Sarah’s cheek. ‘Her grandmother,’ she said quietly.
She spoke so softly, Jess wondered if she’d heard correctly. Then, as Sarah reached up to brush a stray lock of red hair from her face, Jess noticed the emerald ring sparkling on the third finger of her left hand.
‘You’re wearing your ring?’
‘Mrs Huntley-Osborne gave it back to me.’ Sarah blushed. ‘She said Clifford meant me to have it.’ She smiled. ‘Between you and me, I think it makes me look a bit more respectable. You know what she’s like!’
‘I do indeed,’ Jess agreed. Which made her change of heart all the more mysterious.
Sarah seemed to read her thoughts. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I don’t really understand it either. But ever since that day in the chapel, at the memorial service – oh, you won’t know about that, will you?’ Jess shook her head. ‘It was the strangest thing. She just gave up her seat for me, in front of everyone. The whole village was watching. I was so surprised, I nearly fainted on the spot, I can tell you!’
‘I don’t blame you.’ Jess was stunned, too. She couldn’t imagine what had brought on Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s change of heart. Perhaps her own words had sunk in after all, thought Jess.
Or perhaps Mrs Huntley-Osborne finally realised that pride could make her into a very lonely woman.
‘Anyway, after that she asked if she could come and see the baby. Asked, mind – not her usual way of giving orders.’ Sarah shook her head, still marvelling over it. ‘And you should see what she brought for Jess. Matinee jackets, mittens, bootees – I reckon she’ll be the best-dressed baby in Billinghurst at this rate!’
Sarah looked stunned, as if she couldn’t quite believe her luck. Jess didn’t blame her. Only a month ago she had been an outcast, living from hand to mouth. And now this.
‘Did she see her granddaughter?’ Jess asked.
Sarah smiled. ‘She couldn’t leave her alone! Says she looks just like Cliff did when he was a baby.’
‘She’s admitted he’s the father, then?’
Sarah nodded. ‘She always knew it, deep down. But you know Mrs Huntley-Osborne. She wanted better things for her son. I don’t blame her,’ she added. ‘I’m sure I’ll be just as protective when Jess grows up.’
Jess looked at her. People thought Sarah Newland was a troublesome girl, but she had a big heart. Mrs Huntley-Osborne could not have found a better daughter-in-law.
‘Can you forgive her for what she did to you?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘She was hurt and angry after Cliff died, and lashed out at me because I was an easy target. And, I must admit, I did the same to her. We were as bad as each other, really. Anyway,’ she went on, ‘the most important thing is that little Jess has a proper family.’
‘I suppose you’ll be moving in with Mrs Huntley-Osborne next?’
Sarah laughed. ‘You must be joking!’
‘Hasn’t she offered? I thought she might, as she has that big house …’
‘Oh, she’s offered, all right, but I said no. Can you imagine the two of us living together? We’d drive each other mad in no time!’ Sarah grinned. ‘No, I think we’re better off taking things gradually to start with. Although I’ve told her, I wouldn’t say no to her paying for someone to fix the damp and the loose roof tiles in my cottage …’
Jess smiled. No one could ever accuse Sarah Newland of being a fortune hunter.
‘And you’re wearing that, are you?’
Millie caught her grandmother’s flinty expression in the looking glass. It came as no surprise to her that her grandmother was dissatisfied with the outfit she had chosen for her wedding. Lady Rettingham had been dissatisfied with everything lately.
Millie stifled a sigh. ‘What’s wrong with it, Granny?’
‘Nothing at all. It’s a perfectly serviceable outfit – for one of Mrs Huntley-Osborne’s fund-raising committee meetings, or perhaps afternoon tea with someone you’re not particularly fond of. But surely not as a wedding outfit? Why can’t you have a proper wedding dress?’
Millie regarded her own reflection. The dove-grey two piece was very becoming, she thought. And the little velvet hat perched at an angle on her blonde curls finished it off nicely.
‘A proper wedding dress, as you call it, would cost a fortune in clothing coupons,’ she said. ‘And what’s the point in squandering all that just for one day?’ She tilted the hat to a more rakish angle, and stood back to assess the effect. ‘This is far more practical, because I can wear it again after the wedding.’
‘You can take practicality too far,’ her grandmother said darkly.
Millie turned to face her. ‘I’m surprised to hear you say that, Granny,’ she said. ‘I thought you valued practicality over everything?’
The dowager pursed her lips but said nothing. Millie couldn’t help feeling irritated by her grandmother’s change of attitude. Wasn’t she the one who’d urged Millie to remarry for the sake of the Billinghurst estate?
&nb
sp; ‘It’s hardly practical if it isn’t a good fit,’ Lady Rettingham muttered.
‘It seems to fit well enough to me.’ Millie half turned, smoothing the skirt over her hips.
‘That’s because you can’t see it from where I’m standing.’
Millie caught her grandmother’s eye in the mirror. She suddenly had the feeling they were no longer talking about her outfit.
She stifled a sigh. The last thing she wanted was to have this conversation, but it had been hanging over them like a storm brewing for several days.
‘What is it, Granny? Don’t you want me to marry Teddy?’
‘Of course I do – if he makes you happy.’
Millie smiled. This was another idea her grandmother had never entertained before. ‘Happiness comes a long way after duty, Granny. Isn’t that what you’ve always taught me?’
Lady Rettingham’s mouth pursed in frustration. ‘Is that what you think you’re doing? Acting out of duty?’
‘No, of course not – not entirely, anyway.’ Millie considered the question. ‘I – care a great deal for Teddy. He’s loyal, loving, and he makes me feel safe.’
‘Do you love him?’
Millie paused, surprised by the question. ‘Yes, I do love him – in a way,’ she replied carefully. ‘And that’s enough, isn’t it? It’s more than many women in my position can say, anyway. Haven’t you always told me you loathed Grandfather for at least the first year of your marriage?’
It was one of her grandmother’s favourite homilies. She regularly held herself up as a shining example of someone who had bravely upheld family duty, carrying out her father’s wishes that she should marry well.
‘Yes, well, you and I are very different people,’ Lady Rettingham replied quietly, looking at her hands.
Millie stared at her grandmother’s reflection. This was yet another revelation. Could it be her grandmother was finally acknowledging that Millie might have a mind of her own?
‘What on earth makes you say that?’
‘Because I’ve seen you lately … since you began working at that hospital.’ The words seemed to be dragged out of her. ‘I have to admit, you’ve been a different girl. You’ve had more energy, a greater sense of purpose. It’s made me realise that perhaps I’ve been wrong, forcing you down a path you were never meant to take.’
Millie turned back to her reflection, too shaken to reply. Was her indomitable grandmother really admitting she might have been wrong about something? She waited for the earth to rock to its foundations, and was surprised when the ground stayed still beneath her feet.
Millie met her own gaze in the mirror. A pair of steady blue eyes looked back at her. It was no longer the bright, hopeful gaze of a young girl full of optimism for the future. It was the measured look of someone whose life had been shadowed by grief and loss. Someone who had experienced enough of life to know that playing it safe was better than risking everything for higher stakes.
‘I appreciate what you’re saying, Granny, but this is my path, whether I like it or not. And I think it’s about time I started thinking with my head, and not my heart.’ Millie looked at her grandmother, her smile tremulous. ‘Don’t look so unhappy, Granny. Things will work out for the best, you’ll see.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
IT WAS ONE of the swankiest restaurants in London, and as Kit kept reminding her, Effie was lucky to be there.
‘I’ve never brought a girlfriend here before, let alone bought her champagne,’ he told her. ‘You should feel honoured.’
‘But I’m your fiancée, not just any girlfriend,’ Effie reminded him.
‘So you are.’ He raised his champagne glass to her.
He had pulled out all the stops, Effie had to admit. The restaurant was so stylish, filled with the crème de la crème of London society. Not that Effie recognised a single soul, but Kit kept pointing out various politicians and famous beauties. He’d splashed out on champagne and oysters and steak, and Effie knew she should be having the time of her life.
But all she felt was – flat.
All evening, she found she couldn’t keep her eyes off the clock on the wall. She didn’t want to do it, but she couldn’t stop her gaze creeping up to check it, counting the minutes as they ticked by.
In the end, Kit grew annoyed. ‘Do you have an urgent appointment somewhere?’ he snapped. ‘Because I’d hate to feel I was keeping you …’
‘It’s not that,’ she hurried to reassure him. ‘Connor’s train leaves at nine.’
A smile of pure relish spread across Kit’s face. ‘Good riddance,’ he said. ‘I can’t wait to see the back of him, can’t you?’
‘No,’ Effie agreed. But her words sounded hollow, even to her.
The truth was, after less than a day she was already beginning to miss him.
Worse still, his absence had made her realise how little she and Kit actually had in common. When Connor was around, they were united in their dislike of him. He gave them something to talk about, someone to plot against. Effie had quite enjoyed playing the thwarted lover, and she had a feeling Kit did too. But with Connor not around to add a spark to it, their romance felt disappointingly flat.
‘I’m sure he’ll be happier when he’s back wallowing in the peat bogs, among his own kind,’ Kit said dismissively.
‘They’re my kind, too,’ Effie reminded him.
‘Yes, but you’re different, aren’t you, darling? You wanted more out of life. You’d never settle for an ignorant farmer’s boy.’
‘Connor’s not ignorant.’
Kit’s brows rose. ‘Oh, so you’re defending him now, are you?’
‘No, but I don’t think it’s fair to call him names. Especially when he isn’t here to defend himself.
Kit retreated into sulky silence. ‘I couldn’t see Connor Cleary bringing you to a place like this,’ he said finally. ‘The only time the likes of Connor would come in here is if he was working in the kitchens!’
Effie pressed her lips together to stop herself speaking out. He’s your fiancé, she reminded herself. You don’t owe Connor Cleary any loyalty. If it had been left to him, you’d be on that boat back to Ireland by now …
She was shocked by how much she suddenly missed her home. How much she longed to see her mammy and daddy, and to walk in the fields with her dog, with no barbed wire anywhere or fighter planes circling overhead.
‘You know he was in love with you, don’t you?’ Kit said casually.
Effie laughed. ‘Come off it!’
‘I’m serious, darling. Connor was absolutely besotted with you. Of course he was desperate to hide it – those strong, silent types always are – but I spotted it straight away. Why do you think he was so keen to keep us apart? He wanted you for himself.’
Effie stared at Kit.
‘Connor has no interest in me,’ she said. But the memory of his kiss was still imprinted on her lips. She had been trying to tell herself he didn’t mean it, and it was just another way for him to torment her.
Kit sent her a pitying look. ‘Do you really think he’d come all the way over to England in the middle of a war just to torment you?’
‘My mammy sent him.’
‘I very much doubt it, darling.’ Kit leaned forward. ‘Do you know, he came to see me after we came back from the coast? He laid in wait for me in the dark – it was quite menacing, actually.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He was utterly convinced that I’d besmirched your honour. Kept telling me I shouldn’t hurt you. It was comical to watch, really. Him virtually pleading with me to make an honest woman of you, when really he was desperate to have you himself.’
Effie looked at his arrogant face and realisation dawned. ‘Was that why you asked me to marry you?’
Kit nodded. ‘Well, he wanted me to do the right thing by you, so I thought I’d take it one step further.’ He laughed. ‘Wasn’t it priceless, the night he found out we were engaged? You had to see the funny side, didn’t you? I’m
so glad you didn’t tell him, sweetheart. If you had I would have missed out on the pleasure of seeing his expression!’
He’d tried to warn her, Effie thought. Connor had told her exactly what game Kit was playing, and she’d refused to believe him. She cringed to think of the harsh things she’d said to him that night.
Connor Cleary, defender of her honour and keeper of her heart.
She stood, pushing back her chair. Kit stared up at her. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I need to see Connor before he leaves.’
His face changed. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not walking out on me.’
‘But I need to apologise—’
Kit’s hand flashed out, grabbing her wrist. ‘You’re not going,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m not letting that oaf think he’s won …’
Effie stared at him, realisation dawning. ‘That’s all this is to you, isn’t it?’ she said, pulling herself free from his grasp. ‘A competition. This isn’t about me, it’s about getting one over on Connor.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘And what about our engagement? Was that all part of your game, too?’ Kit said nothing, but his face gave him away. ‘It was, wasn’t it? Connor was right, you had no intention of marrying me.’ She rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed it.
Kit lowered his gaze. ‘Sit down and we’ll talk about it,’ he muttered.
‘No.’ Effie shook her head. ‘I’ve fallen for your lies often enough. I don’t need to listen to any more.’
Connor stood at the far end of the train platform, smoking a cigarette. Effie picked out his tall, broad-shouldered figure in the crowd straight away, but paused for a moment before she approached him. She could be on the verge of making the biggest mistake of her life.
But if she let this moment slip by, she could be making an even bigger one.
She was almost behind him and he still hadn’t noticed her.
‘Connor?’ she said quietly.
He swung round, surprise written all over his face. ‘Effie? What are you doing here?’
Nightingales Under the Mistletoe Page 34
