Steve turned immediately to look for Laura. She was sitting right at the front in the Hardingham pew next to Helen, Robby on her lap, and had her back to the congregation. Unless she already knew Wayne was there, she would not see him until the service ended. The parson, followed by the choir, which included the reluctant twins, made their way up the aisle and the service began. Steve kept his eyes on the back of Laura’s dark head the whole time. They sang the traditional hymns lustily, prayed earnestly for the end of the bloodshed, for forgiveness and tolerance, remembered those who had given their lives, the wounded, and others unable to be with their families, and were reminded in a lengthy sermon of what they were fighting for. Laura did not turn round once.
When the service ended, it was Helen and Laura, carrying Robby, who left the church first, following the parson and choir down the aisle. Steve studied Laura’s face as they walked slowly to the back of the church, greeting people and saying ‘Happy Christmas’ as she went.
Laura saw Oliver first and then Wayne, and for a moment the whole congregation seemed to revolve. She felt Helen’s hand on her arm and her quiet murmur, ‘Steady,’ before she took a deep breath and continued down the aisle, passing Kathy and Steve as she went. Bless him, he did not know the half of it, but he was there, her rock, as always. Out in the churchyard, in spite of the cold wind that threatened more sleet, if not snow, everyone was milling, stamping their feet and blowing on their hands, being introduced and exchanging good wishes. Laura went round them all, before stopping in front of Wayne and reaching up to kiss his cheek. ‘Good to see you, Wayne. On leave, are you?’
‘Just a week. Are you well?’
‘Very well, thank you. You must have been surprised to find your parents here?’
‘Too true, I was. A smashing Christmas present. Have you met Mom and Pop?’ He turned to Oliver and Valerie. ‘This is Laura.’
Oliver smiled at her. ‘We have met. Happy Christmas, Laura.’
‘So this is the famous Laura,’ Valerie said, eyeing her up and down. ‘I can see why Wayne fell for you.’
‘We are good friends,’ Laura said. Then to Wayne, ‘I’ll catch up with you later. You’re all coming up to the Hall tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Valerie put in. ‘Hallo, my lady. Remember me? I worked at the Hall during the last war. It’ll be fun to see how it’s changed.’
‘Of course I remember you. You will notice a great many changes, I expect.’ To Laura, Helen said, ‘It’s too cold to stand about; Robby is shivering. Let’s get home to the fire.’ And with that she made her way down the path and onto the road, where the Humber was parked. Laura followed.
‘She always was a stuck-up bitch,’ Valerie said when they were out of earshot. ‘Who’s coming to the pub for a quick one before dinner?’
The crowd spilt up into those hurrying home to the cooking and those with time to spare for drinking. ‘How’s it going?’ Steve asked Ken as they walked.
‘Same as ever. Dodging flak, dropping flares and high-tailing it home. I miss you.’
‘Well, you’re not going to miss me much longer. I’m off to Central Medical in the New Year to be passed fit to return to duty.’
‘Sure that’s what you want?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Wayne’s been in Italy. There was a bit of a lull in the fighting and they decided to send some men home on Christmas leave. He’s not sure if he’ll have to go back or stay here to train for the invasion.’
So that’s where he’d been. ‘When d’you reckon that will be?’
Ken shrugged. ‘No idea. Wayne, you got any idea when we’re going to start the second front?’
‘None at all,’ Wayne answered.
‘Do you know, Uncle Ollie?’ Ken asked.
‘No, why would they tell me?’
‘I thought you came over specially to help with it.’
‘I didn’t say that, did I?’
Ken laughed. ‘OK, keep your hair on. I won’t ask again, though nobody seems to be talking about anything else.’
‘Are you going to Mrs Drummond’s party?’ This was Stella, who had caught them up to walk beside her handsome Canadian cousin.
‘Seems we all are.’
‘It’s not exactly Laura’s party,’ Steve put in. ‘It’s for the patients, to try and get them used to being in the community, and for the community to get used to seeing them about.’
‘Sister Drummond always did that,’ she said. ‘They used to come down to the pub and drink with Dad and then she would have to come and fetch them.’
Wayne laughed. ‘I remember once she hauled me over the carpet for encouraging them. They didn’t need encouraging, I can tell you. It must have been good for you to be looked after so near to home, Steve.’
‘It was.’
‘Rotten luck, being brought down like that.’
‘Yes, rotten luck. That’s why they called me “Lucky Wainright”, I suppose.’ It was said without a hint of a smile, though he had meant it as a joke. Making jokes when you were feeling down in the mouth never worked. He had heard so much about Wayne – how handsome he was, and how charming – and he wanted it not to be true, but unfortunately it was. He caught sight of himself and Wayne in the mirror behind the bar and wished he hadn’t. The comparison was odious. And what made him feel worse was the fact that the Canadians were obviously loaded and didn’t have to rely on their service pay to survive. Oliver insisted on buying drinks for everyone and Valerie was soon in deep conversation with Joe, who remembered her from years back. Steve spent most of his time talking to Ken but after his second glass of beer, he said he had to be going and went to fetch his coat and cap from the peg. ‘I’ll see you all tomorrow.’
‘Yes, see you tomorrow,’ they chorused. He left them to their drinking and walked home alone.
Chapter Thirteen
EVERYTHING WAS READY. The room, with the help of those patients who were convalescing and mobile, had been cleared, the carpet taken up and chairs arranged around the circumference. A platform in one corner held a gramophone and a pile of records; one of the non-dancers was going to man that. There were paper chains hung everywhere and crêpe paper bells Helen had found in a box in the attic. The tree had been dressed with homemade ginger men, little ‘pretend’ parcels and candles, also salvaged from the box in the attic. It was dressed over all with ‘window’ – long streamers of tinfoil dropped by the air force to deceive the enemy’s radar. The twins had found it draped on bushes on the common, though how it got there, no one knew. The long table in the main dining room was loaded with food, much of it sent in advance by the guests themselves. There was a bar in one corner with a motley collection of bottles: hoarded whisky and gin, port and sherry, and homemade elderberry and apple wine. There was a small barrel of beer provided by Joe, who said he might wander up after the pub closed. Steve brought the farm’s contribution and stopped to help.
‘That’s it,’ Laura said, looking round the room. ‘Come and have a drink before you go.’
He followed her to the sitting room at the back of the east wing, handy for the kitchen and family dining room, and flopped down into an armchair. She handed him a glass of sherry. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’ she asked.
‘Yes, very good. How Mum managed it in wartime I don’t know, but we had a feast. And Alec being there made it special for the twins and Daphne. What about you?’
‘Robby made it for us. He’s not quite old enough to understand what it’s all about, but he got very excited unwrapping his presents.’
‘Did Wayne come up?’
She smiled, understanding him. ‘No, why should he? Christmas is for families.’
‘Still—’
‘Still nothing.’ She sat on the arm of his chair. ‘Let’s get this straight, Steve Wainright. I am not contemplating marriage to Wayne Donovan. Nor ever will.’
His relief was tempered by a little disbelief. ‘I watched your face when you saw him
in church; you were shocked to see him.’
‘Surprised perhaps, not shocked.’
‘What did you think of his parents?’
Careful, her inner voice warned her. ‘They seem very nice.’
‘Pots of money, judging by the way the Major was throwing it about in the pub yesterday.’
‘No doubt he is pleased to have his son with him for Christmas, especially as he’s been worried about him.’
They were silent for a minute and then Steve said, ‘You remember when I was in hospital at Hammersmith? You said you needed your rock and you’ve said it again since, though you’ve never explained why.’
‘Does there have to be a reason?’
‘Yes. You would not have said it for nothing. Now I am fit and well, thanks to you—’
‘Not only me.’
‘Don’t interrupt. I am fit and well and before long I’ll be off back to my unit, so tell me what’s on your mind while you’ve got the chance.’
‘Nothing now.’
‘But there was.’
‘Maybe, but I’ve dealt with it. Everything’s fine.’
He would have pressed her but Helen appeared at that moment and the conversation turned to the arrangements for the party, and speculation about how many would turn up and if the food would last out. After half an hour Laura gently sent him on his way. ‘I have to supervise the men’s dressings, give them their medication and make sure those who aren’t well enough to come to the party are comfortable away from the noise, and then give Robby his tea and put him to bed. Then I’ve promised myself a leisurely bath before I dress. I’ll see you later.’
She watched him go, wondering why she had not taken the opportunity to unburden herself to him. She had become so used to her role as nurse and comforter, it had become ingrained in her, part of her character, a mask of coolness she had assumed to enable her to carry on. Once she let it fall, she was done for. Steve was doing the same thing to help him to cope with his scars. To him they were prominent, the first thing you saw on looking at him, but she hardly noticed them. His candid blue eyes and firm jaw were his outstanding features and, once you got to know him, his gentle, caring character easily made you forget any slight disfigurement. Why couldn’t she let him know how much she loved him? Perhaps she would tonight, if all went well and the opportunity arose.
She set about her tasks with a will. Helen had volunteered to put Robby to bed, so Laura had more time to dress. She knew all the ladies would be trying their best to look glamorous and dresses not worn for years had been made over for the occasion. Helen had given Laura a green silk dress she had found in a wardrobe which no longer fitted her. ‘I’ve put on a bit of weight,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it will suit you.’ It was cut on the bias and fitted closely at the bust and hips and flared out at the hem. Its sleeves were tight to the elbow and then flared to the wrist. Its V-shaped neckline was filled with an imitation emerald necklace she had bought on her recent shopping trip to Attlesham. ‘You look lovely,’ Helen said, when she twirled to show her. ‘I’m very proud of you.’
Impulsively, Laura kissed her. ‘And I of you.’
‘Go on with you, you’ll have me in tears.’ Helen hurried off get ready herself, before the tears became reality.
By the time the villagers began to arrive, the patients had set the gramophone going and were enticing the nurses into dancing. There was a lull as new people arrived and made their way into the room, some a little diffidently, until the men, made bold by a little drink and the company of others in like circumstances, dragged them onto the floor. Everyone from Bridge Farm turned up. William and Alec were soon in debate with the recuperating patients about when they thought the second front would begin and where it would be. Someone said he was making a book on it. The choice seemed to be between northern France, probably the Pas de Calais as it was nearest, the south of France, Belgium or Holland, or if they fancied a long shot, Norway.
‘Too far by sea,’ Alec said. ‘They’d never keep it quiet. Same with the south of France. My money’s on Calais.’
Laura, standing in the doorway surveying the scene, was relieved that everything seemed to be going so well. She turned to find Wayne behind her. She took a deep breath and adjusted her invisible mask. ‘Wayne, I’m glad you managed to come.’
‘I very nearly didn’t.’ He looked around to make sure his parents had gone into the ballroom ahead of him. ‘I felt sure you did not intend I should.’
‘Of course I did. Why would I not?’
‘You met Pop?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you say anything about you know what?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? You want to know the truth, don’t you?’
‘Wayne, I do know the truth. You have to accept that. And please don’t upset your mother over it.’
‘How you can be so calm about it, I don’t know.’
‘No point in getting worked up, is there? It won’t change anything.’
‘You’re a callous, cold-hearted bitch, you know that, don’t you?’ He had hardly got the words out when someone grabbed his shoulder and hurled him across the floor. Furious, he got up and came forward again, fists raised. Laura put herself between them. ‘Please, don’t fight. Steve, you misunderstood.’
‘Oh no I didn’t. I heard what he called you.’
‘He’s upset. It was nothing. I’ll deal with it.’
Valerie, overdressed in a long satin dress in a shade of pink which clashed horribly with her ginger hair, came dashing across to them, followed by Oliver. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, Mom, a slight disagreement, that’s all. Go back to your dance.’
She stood her ground. ‘What are you disagreeing about? Has she been two-timing you with this low-down apology for a man?’
Steve, who had been feeling quite cheerful and optimistic up to then, felt himself deflate like a pricked balloon. For a whole year he had lived with the possibility that someone might say something of the sort and wondered how he would deal with it. Now it had happened all he wanted to do was go away and hide, but he couldn’t leave Laura when she needed him.
‘That’s a dreadful, dreadful thing to say,’ Laura said, putting a hand on Steve’s arm, more worried about the effect on him than the slur on her reputation. ‘Take no notice of her, Steve.’
‘Val, you say you’re sorry for that.’ This was Oliver. He turned to Steve, who was standing staring straight ahead, his jaw working. ‘She didn’t mean that, son.’
By now, Helen had joined them. ‘What are you all in a huddle about?’
‘This, this—’ Valerie spluttered.
‘Careful, my dear,’ Oliver warned, reaching out to take her arm.
She shook him off and pointed at Laura. ‘This bitch has been leading my son on, making him think she cared for him, when all the time she was two-timing him with…’ Her bejewelled hand moved round until she was pointing at Steve. ‘…him.’ The music played on.
‘Laura has never led him on,’ Helen said quietly. ‘She wouldn’t.’ She sounded calm but inside she was seething and worried. ‘If you wish to continue enjoying our hospitality, then I suggest you take back those words and rejoin the party.’
Valerie rocked with laughter. ‘My God! She sounds just like her father. He was always throwing his orders about. He sacked me, do you know that?’
‘No, I did not, but no doubt he had his reasons and it has nothing to do with Laura or your son.’
‘No, Mom, it hasn’t,’ Wayne put in, pulling on her arm. ‘Come away. I’ll take you home.’
She snatched her arm from his hand. ‘I don’t want to go home. I’m going to say my piece…’ She looked from Helen to Laura and suddenly saw what everyone else had seen for years. ‘My God, she’s your daughter!’ And her raucous laughter filled the room.
Steve simply stared from one to the other, saw how shaken Laura was and reached out to squeeze her hand. Oliver looked from Valerie to Laura, and then t
o Helen. ‘Is this true?’
She faced him defiantly. ‘Yes.’
‘When? How? Who?’
‘I can tell you when,’ his wife told him. ‘When she was supposed to be with her husband at the end of the last war. I often wondered about that. He was supposed to be in France and then all of a sudden he had leave, but he didn’t come here where he belonged, she had to go and join him. That’s what we were told. And then she came home alone. Where did you hide the baby, my lady?’
‘I was never hidden,’ Laura put in. ‘And if we are going to discuss this, we had better go somewhere else to do it.’
‘I think you should drop the subject,’ Wayne said. ‘We should not have come. It was bound to end in tears.’
‘Whose tears?’ his mother demanded.
‘Yours, if you are not careful.’
Steve, still holding Laura’s hand, remembered his grandmother using those words. He felt a frisson of anxiety on Laura’s account. ‘Do you want me to ask them to leave?’
‘No. Let’s have it out.’ She looked at Helen. ‘Yes?’
‘Not here, in front of half the village.’
‘No, I should think you would want to hide your shame,’ Valerie continued.
Helen did not answer, but walked away in the direction of their sitting room, followed by Steve and Laura. If the others wanted to follow, they could.
Valerie marched after her, which meant that Oliver and Wayne felt obliged to follow. They all stood awkwardly in the room, too uncomfortable to sit down.
Summer House Page 38
