Janet Woods

by I'll Get By

  ‘About what?’

  ‘That nobody finds out about you two. His father knows a lot of people, and I doubt if he’d approve if you had any ideas of grandeur. I mean, look what happened when you set your sights on that lawyer. Nick is much further up the scale.’

  Judith was unaware of how social Meggie had been with Nick, and Meggie wasn’t about to tell her. Her housemate wasn’t exactly discreet.

  Meggie was also worried. When she reached the river her heart leaped. There was a yacht at the berth. It was Nick’s boat but it was different in that it was battered, scratched and scruffy. The name had also gone.

  She went on board, her footsteps echoing on the planked decking, and softly called his name, ‘Nick.’

  There was no answer, and the cabin doors were locked.

  When she got to the office Bethuen called her in again. ‘I’m given to understand that you and Lord Cowan are . . . close.’

  She kept cool. ‘From whom?’

  He didn’t answer but avoided her eyes. ‘You do know, my dear, that any relationship that might develop between staff members is frowned upon. I could make an exception in certain circumstances. Has Lord Cowan told you what he does and where he goes during his absences?’

  Wild Spanish bulls stampeding around Bethuen’s office wouldn’t make her betray Nick – not that there were many of them in Whitehall, she imagined.

  She counted to ten, adding an imaginary Olé! at the end, knowing she could answer him truthfully, and more. ‘I’m not privy to Lord Cowan’s work schedule or activities, and I object to the inference that there’s collaboration of some sort between us. If you have any complaints about my work or feel that I’ve violated the Official Secrets Act in any way, or even brought disrespect down on the service I represent, please contact the appropriate department of the service.’

  Judith winked at her when she left the office.

  Expecting Nick to turn up at work she was on tenterhooks all day. Gordon Frapp gave her a heap of aerial photographs to pore over. Barely able to concentrate, she did her best to discover anything looking remotely sinister.

  ‘What did Bethuen want?’ Frapp asked her, and too casually to be taken as such.

  ‘He asked me if I knew where Lord Cowan was.’

  Frapp gave a knowing grin. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  His eyes took on the avid eagerness of a dog waiting for a titbit. ‘Where?’

  Rising, she closed the door then looked under the desk. ‘We’re not bugged are we?’

  ‘I’d know if we were.’

  ‘Good, because I’d hate this to get out, Mr Frapp . . . I keep Lord Cowan in the pickle jar in my larder.’

  Frapp’s grin failed. ‘Very funny . . . I can see where your loyalty lies.’

  ‘It is a pity yours doesn’t coincide with mine.’

  She didn’t tell him the boat was back at its berth. He could find out that for himself if he bothered to look. It occurred to her that Nick seemed to thrive on intrigue, perhaps boredom had driven him to it before the war, but it was something entirely different and dangerous now if the bullet in his arm had been anything to go by.

  She didn’t even know where he lived, which, considering his declaration of love and the engagement ring, was rather odd. Perhaps that had been play-acting too. Her heart sank. Life was suddenly getting complicated.

  It was getting complicated for Nick, too. Eight weeks of sailing the French coast and the Mediterranean while trying to catch up with his contacts and gather information had been wearying. If he’d been caught running guns he’d have been shot out of hand.

  Thankfully, Leo had recovered enough from his injuries to be handed over – to the visible relief of the Resistance. He was sorry he’d had to give him knock-out-drops. The man was too sharp. Thornton had already seen Nick’s face once, when he’d taken the jewellery back. What on earth had possessed him to play such stupid games?

  A quick phone call from a nearby telephone box and Nick’s man had arrived with a wheelchair. He’d cut it fine, and Leo was already beginning to recover by the time they’d got him away from the river. They’d watched from the shadows of the trees as the appropriate authorities had come for his passenger.

  William had taken Nick home, and he’d been staggering from fatigue by the time they got there.

  ‘Your father, the earl has rung several times, My Lord. He’s heard rumours.’

  In his absence Nick had thought a lot about his father. Rumours had a habit of reaching his ears quickly. He took a shot in the dark. ‘Call him and put his mind at rest, William,’ he croaked. ‘But I imagine you don’t need me to tell you that.’

  ‘As you say, sir!’

  ‘Tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I need a few hours of undisturbed sleep.’

  ‘And your young lady. Isn’t it about time he met her?’

  ‘Since you enjoy running my life so much, arrange something then.’ Nick smiled, thinking of Meggie. She was never far from his mind, and he couldn’t wait to see her again. I’ll visit her this evening and surprise her. Though he didn’t think it would be much of a surprise, since she had it all worked out, he was sure.

  William eyed him critically. ‘That beard will certainly surprise her. It’s most unkempt.’

  ‘This beard will be removed once I’ve slept, William, so start stropping the razors. And pack a hamper and add a bottle of champagne if you would, the best we’ve got.’

  ‘A special occasion, sir?’

  ‘Every time I see her is a special occasion. You’re being inquisitive William.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’m aware of that, but one couldn’t help but notice that you have more than a fondness for the young lady.’

  ‘One should mind his own business.’

  Unperturbed, William said, ‘I dare say, but the welfare of one’s master is one’s business. Wouldn’t it be more convenient for the young lady to visit you here, since the area where she lives has been subjected to heavy bombing lately, and there’s a lot of rubble to navigate.’

  ‘I’m more than fond of her. I adore her, and I’m going to marry her if she’ll have me. And yes, you’re right. I shall visit her personally and escort her to dinner. By the way . . . the boat needs urgent maintenance. In particular the fire extinguisher needs to be replaced.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll let the maintenance people know right away.’

  Meggie did her usual detour to the river on the way home. She stood there in the evening mist staring at the empty space where the boat had been. She couldn’t believe it . . . it had gone from its mooring!

  Had everything he’d said to her been lies? She knew he was back in England, she could almost smell him.

  She headed for home, changed out of her uniform and into her best dress, just in case.

  As usual, Judith was seeing her latest boyfriend. They were off to the cinema to see a film. ‘I’ll get myself some beans on toast for dinner,’ she’d said.

  ‘There’s a slice of corned beef to go with it. And I made a jelly.’

  Meggie would sit in the empty house, except for the company of Jack Frost. There was a tin of caviar in the larder, left over from Nick’s last hamper. She opened it for the cat to eat.

  A pity it wasn’t tinned herrings in tomato sauce. Her mouth began to water at the thought. There were no fresh eggs now. Somebody had stolen the hens from the back garden when they were at work.

  After Judith had gone she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea.

  There was a note propped against the salt and pepper pots. She stared at it, and then her heart seemed to explode. It was from Leo! He was alive! She snatched it up.

  Meggie, I’m home again. I’m taking a month’s leave and have gone to Dorset to see Es and the baby.

  Racing into the hall she rang the number of Nutting Cottage, her smile a mile wide.

  Her aunt answered and said in a breathless rush. ‘Somebody rescued Leo. He’d been injured and the Resistance found
him and looked after him. He came home in a yacht and security picked him up. They wouldn’t let him ring me until after he’d been interrogated.’

  Nick’s yacht, she thought with some pride. He’d done it for her. Nick had risked his own life to rescue Leo. ‘Did Leo say who his rescuer was?’

  ‘He didn’t see anyone, though he formed the impression that his rescuer had a beard. He said it was all so very mysterious. He fell asleep. He thought he’d been given some knockout drops, because he woke up in Hyde Park.’

  That was definitely a Nick touch. Imagine him giving Leo knockout drops? Goodness, she hoped Leo never found out. Stifling a giggle she quickly changed the subject. ‘What did Leo think of Johnno? I would have loved to have seen his face when he saw him for the first time.’

  ‘Leo thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers, and vice versa. I could swear that Johnno knew he was his father as soon as they set eyes on each other, and without me telling him. They can’t stop smiling at each other. I’ll tell you about it when you come down for your birthday. You’ll be here for it, won’t you, Meggie Moo? Livia is dying to see you.’

  ‘I’ll try and get some time off. Aunt Es . . . would you mind not calling me Meggie Moo any more. Just Meggie will do.’

  ‘Oh, dear, you have grown up, haven’t you? I’ll try to remember not to. You must ask that lovely boss of yours to the party. Bring him with you, he’s such a gentleman that he’ll impress your mother no end.’

  ‘I will if he wants to come.’

  The doorbell rang and she finished her phone call hurriedly with, ‘I’ll call you again tomorrow, Aunt Es. Lots of love to Leo and Johnno.’

  The nights were drawing in rapidly and there was a nip in the air. When she opened the door it was dark in both the porch and the hall.

  She knew who stood there, a shadow against a darker shadow in the sandlewood-scented twilight. She breathed him in and his presence filled her.

  In an instant she was in his arms, hugging him tight and feeling his body against hers, warm and reassuring. ‘Nick . . . oh, Nick. I’m so glad you’re safe.’

  He kissed her, the sensation so tender, loving and possessive that she wanted to cry.

  ‘So am I. Fetch your coat and scarf. You’re coming home with me for dinner tonight. It was all William’s idea. He wants me to impress you, with champagne in crystal and candlelight, so you’ll accept my proposal when I offer it properly and officially.’

  She pulled him inside and took him through to the kitchen where a candle glowed. ‘Offer it now.’

  He took her hands in his, and his grey eyes engaged hers. They were soft in the candlelight. ‘My dearest lady, words can’t express how much I love you. Will you forgive me for all my faults and become my wife. I promise I’ll be good from now on.’

  She threw an unbelieving laugh at him. ‘Not too good, I hope.’

  He chuckled.

  ‘Does that mean you won’t keep disappearing.’

  ‘I can’t promise that, my love . . . not while there’s a

  war on.’

  ‘But you will promise to be careful?’

  ‘I’ve got everything to stay alive for.’

  She took the ring from the chain around her neck and handed it to him. It slid easily on to her finger, as she knew it would. ‘Will your father mind? He might think I’m not good enough for you.’

  He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘He’ll adore you. He wants to meet you at the weekend.’

  ‘By the way,’ she said. ‘Bethuen carpeted me this morning. He demanded to know where you were and warned me of the danger a relationship with you would represent.’

  ‘The devil he did!’

  ‘I told Bethuen I didn’t know where you were, and to contact the appropriate authority if he had any complaints about my work. Then Gordon Frapp asked me the same thing.’

  ‘They’re both transparent. Gordon wants to be in charge, and Bethuen wants to go back to not doing anything much. What did you tell Gordon?’

  ‘That of course I knew where you were . . . I kept you in a pickle jar in the larder. He was not amused.’

  Nick burst into laughter. ‘You’ve got more tricks than the two of them put together.’

  She could have kicked him. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything I want to know, are you?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. You can keep on keeping me in your pickle jar for the time being.’

  ‘I can add two and two together, you know. I know much more than you know I know.’

  ‘Obviously you’re pickled too . . . which is why my wedding gift to you will be Girton College for a couple of years, if that’s what you really want to do. Once we’re married you can leave the Wrens if you want.’

  When she opened her mouth he placed his finger over it. ‘You needn’t say anything.’

  She pulled his finger away long enough to say, ‘But I want to say something. Unfortunately, Nick, I’m totally and utterly speechless . . . well almost. I thought I might go into a partnership with Judith, and open a secretarial school when the war ends. What will you do?’

  ‘Learn to run the family estate. It will be in my charge one day, and it’s what my father wants and expects of me.’

  Epilogue

  Spring 1946

  Arms around each other, Nick and Meggie strolled around Foxglove House, recently vacated.

  ‘You know, Meggie, it looks as though it might be rather beautiful under this institutional paint. If you want to keep it, you can. It has lovely ceilings, but it’s a pity they painted over the oak panelling. I suppose it could be restored. We could put an estate manager in to manage the farming side.’

  ‘I made my mind up long ago that I didn’t want to keep it. I’ve got a good offer for it, from someone who wants to convert it into four flats. The money will go to charity, probably to children in need. You won’t mind, will you?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  She ran her hand over the piano; the once glossy top was covered in scars left by cigarettes and rings from drink bottles. The underside had names scratched into it.

  ‘We could get that repolished.’

  ‘I like it as it is. This piano has been played by heroes, including my father, and that’s a good way to remember it. Goodness knows how many of them died in our defence. Could we store it somewhere, in case there is a war museum set up? I’d rather like to preserve it.’

  She fell silent. Although Rennie Stone’s name wasn’t on the piano lid, he’d been killed in France by a sniper’s bullet some eighteen months earlier. He was buried in France somewhere. Poor, dear Rennie.

  Sliding on to the piano stool she began to play, and sang, wincing at the flat notes issuing from the ill-used instrument. ‘I’ll get by.’

  ‘As long as I have you,’ Nick whispered, sliding next to her and planting a kiss on her cheek. ‘Does it still hurt?’

  Here was a man who knew her better than she knew herself. ‘Sometimes. Rennie was a good man. He knew I had a crush on him. Luckily he wasn’t the type to take advantage of my feelings, and he let me down as sensitively as he could.’

  ‘Not like me then.’

  ‘It always felt as though we were right together, even when we argued. Allow me to tell you something you don’t know. In about six months’ time there will be three of us.’ She laughed when his mouth fell open, placed her fingertip under his chin to close it, then kissed him. ‘See, I can have secrets too.’

  There were tears in his eyes now. ‘I love you, Lady Cowan.’

  ‘Come on you big softie, let’s go and inform my mother she’s going to be a granny.’

  They walked through a misty, pale amaranth evening, the earth bursting with spring growth and the breeze stirring fresh and rousing with promise.

  There was a faint smell of smoke in the air for it wasn’t yet warm enough in the evening to go without some sort of comfort.

  ‘Do you know what I miss the most now the war is ended, Nick? The sound of the planes flying over,’ she said. �
��It’s so quiet now.’

  Nick missed the excitement of the danger that came with them. But he’d always known he’d have to grow up sometime, and Meggie was compensation for that.

  They fell quiet.

  Leo had worked under Denton for the past few months, refreshing his surgeon’s skills. He’d been offered a job with the Royal Flying Doctor Service in Australia, and they were leaving the next day from Southampton.

  Meggie’s mother, Livia, was shedding a few tears over it. Meggie crossed to where she stood, gave her a hug and whispered something in her ear.

  Nick tried not to grin as Livia’s eyes widened. So did her smile.

  He watched the news pass round, and the hugging began. Meggie had warned him that they hugged a lot. He liked this family he’d married into. Mostly, he liked being part of a family.

  They had mastered the art of precedence. Meggie was hugged, first by Livia, then Esmé and then Chad’s wife, Sylvia . . . all delighted by the news. Livia had gained a certain cache in the neighbourhood by having a viscount for a son-in-law, but she wasn’t a person who would show off for the sake of it, just enjoy her pleasure in it quietly.

  As for his own father, the earl, he’d accepted Meggie with more than a little relief, alerting Nick to the fact that he’d always been aware of his son’s foibles.

  His little unit had been dissolved, but Nick’s services hadn’t been dispensed with. He’d worked under cover for the rest of the war, by which time the adventure had become a chore, and he’d experienced a need to settle down.

  Denton slapped him on the back. ‘Congratulations, my boy.’

  Nick nearly said ‘my pleasure’ before he remembered he’d taken his pleasure with the man’s stepdaughter – on many occasions, and it just got better and better.

  Denton was followed by Leo with, ‘Ever since I first met you I’ve been puzzling about where I know your face from. Now I remember.’

  ‘Enlighten me,’ he said.

  ‘Have you ever been a postman?’

  Chad laughed. ‘It sounds like you’ve had one too many, Leo. There wouldn’t be too many lords of the realm out there delivering the post.’