by Dilly Court
She felt the past slipping away into the mists of memory. The future was all that mattered now. ‘I love you too, Nick.’
Shirley slipped her arms around their shoulders. ‘No bedroom talk here, kids. You’re making Steven and me feel like spare parts. Let’s go home and celebrate.’
Safe in a shelter of Nick’s arms, Ginnie turned her head to smile at Steven. ‘Thanks for everything. I’d never have beaten Mallory if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘I’m glad it turned out the way it did.’ Steven proffered his arm to Shirley. ‘I think we ought to go back to Cherry Lane and give Mrs Travis the good news.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Shirley glanced over her shoulder. ‘Are you two coming, or are you going to stand there like a couple of love-struck teenagers?’
Ginnie leaned against Nick, inhaling the achingly familiar scent of him. She smiled up at him. ‘There’s something I must do first.’
‘The shop,’ Nick said, smiling. ‘I know, honey.’
‘That’s right. I must tell everyone what’s happened. Do you mind?’
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘I guess that’s how it’s going to be from now on.’
‘It’s important to me, Nick.’
‘I know that, Ginnie. I grew up alongside my folks’ store, so it’s no big deal. All I want is for you to be happy.’
Shirley took Steven by the hand. ‘At least you know what you’re letting yourself in for, Nick. We’ll go home and tell Mum. See you later.’
Ginnie watched them walk away. ‘They make a lovely couple,’ she said softly.
Nick pulled her into his arms and silenced her with a kiss. ‘Let them work it out for themselves. Now let’s go see your store. I want to visit the place where my future wife is going to make our fortune.’
‘If you think that’s the sort of proposal that gets a girl going, you’ve got another think coming, Mr Miller.’
He fingered the golden eagle brooch on her lapel. ‘You were wearing this at Avril’s wedding.’
‘I wear it all the time. It’s my good luck charm.’
‘I hope you’ll wear it forever, and when the time is right, I’ll propose. You’ll get all the moonlight and roses you want, honey.’
‘And you won’t mind the fact that I’ll continue working and maybe spend long hours at the shop?’
‘Like I said, sweetheart, I grew up with parents who ran a store. It’ll be like coming home.’
Ida, Jimmy and most of the shopkeepers in the parade were waiting for them. Mary Fielding had lost no time in telephoning her uncle to tell him the good news and now everyone in Collier Lane knew that Mallory had met his just deserts. Fred Chinashop was in tears, but they were tears of joy as he hugged Ginnie. ‘Now I can retire and devote myself to my allotment,’ he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. ‘Of course I’ll be on hand to help if you need me.’
‘And to drink our tea ration, not to mention the sugar you put away,’ Ida said, chuckling. ‘You won’t be able to keep away for long, Fred.’ Her smile faded and she gave Ginnie a searching look. ‘Will you still need me? I mean now you’re going to expand you’ll be taking on more staff, and they’ll be younger and properly trained.’
‘What about me?’ Jimmy asked anxiously. ‘I try hard to do me job well, Ginnie, but Mum says I’m not the sharpest knife in the box.’
Ginnie left Nick’s side to give Jimmy a hug. ‘You’re sharp enough for my liking, Jimmy. I don’t know what I’d have done without you and Ida. We’re a team and that’s the way it’s going to be. Of course I’ll take on more staff as and when I can afford to, but you two will always have a job in Travis’s Furniture Emporium. I can promise you that.’
Fred beamed at her. ‘I think this calls for a celebration. Put the kettle on Ida. You know how I like my tea – sweety, weaky and milky.’ He followed Ida out of the office, leaving Ginnie and Nick alone for the first time that day.
‘I guess I’ll have to start drinking tea,’ Nick said, slipping his arm around Ginnie’s waist. ‘You’ve got a great thing going here, honey. I’ll help in any way I can.’
‘But you’ll be busy at the hospital, Nick. And I’ll have to spend a lot of time working here, especially when the planning permission comes through and the builders start work.’
‘I’ll be busy at the hospital during the week, but at weekends I can help out in the store. It’s not as if I’ve never done it before.’
‘Would you really? Wouldn’t it be an awful comedown after being a surgeon and the important work you’re doing in research?’
‘Honey, I’m not proud. I’m lucky to have regained most of my sight, and I’ve had a long time to think and to decide what I want in life. I don’t care about me – all I care about is us.’
She cupped his face in her hands, looking into his eyes. ‘That goes for me to, but I’ll be doing this for us and for Mum and Shirley. I’ve been supporting them since Laurence died, and I can’t stop now.’
‘I know, Ginnie, and I admire you for it. I’d do the same.’
She dropped her hands to her sides at the sound of the teacups rattling on their saucers which preceded Ida as she bustled into the office, followed by Fred who was carrying a plate of biscuits. ‘Aren’t you two engaged yet?’ Ida demanded, dumping the tray on the desk. ‘Lord knows we’ve given you enough time to propose, young man.’
‘Moonlight and roses, Ida,’ Ginnie said, smiling. ‘That’s what I’m waiting for.’
Later, after receiving congratulations all round for the successful outcome of the tribunal, which affected all the shops in the parade and the inhabitants of the flats above them, Ginnie and Nick walked back to Cherry Lane hand in hand.
They were welcomed by Mrs Martin who was leaning over her gate with a bunch of roses clutched in her hand. ‘Well done, Ginnie,’ she said, passing it to her with a broad smile. ‘It’s high time someone put that Mallory man in his place. I’ve heard nothing good about him, and now he’s got his comeuppance.’
Ginnie sniffed the heady scent of the crimson roses. ‘Thank you, Mrs Martin. That’s very kind of you.’
Mrs Martin put her head on one side, eyeing Nick with a speculative glance. ‘Is this your young man? The American soldier who lost his sight?’
Ginnie shot an anxious look at Nick, but he did not seem upset. He reached across the gate to kiss Mrs Martin’s cheek. ‘I’m fine now, ma’am, but in answer to your question, I am that soldier.’
Mrs Martin clapped her hand to her cheek. ‘Well, I never. I can see why you’re fond of this one, Ginnie. What a charmer.’ Giggling like a schoolgirl she turned on her heel and hurried up the path to her front door.
Nick saluted smartly. ‘Good day, ma’am.’
She paused on the doorstep. ‘Such lovely manners. I do like Americans.’ She went inside and closed the door.
‘I’ll have to watch you,’ Ginnie said, chuckling. ‘You’ll be the talk of the town if you carry on with elderly ladies like that.’
Nick hooked his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’ve yet to meet your mother. That’s going to be the big test. She might hate my guts after the way I treated you.’
As Ginnie unlatched the garden gate she saw the front door open and her mother stepped outside. ‘You’re about to find out.’ She clutched his hand and led him towards the house.
Mildred’s stern expression melted into a smile. She held out her hand. ‘Welcome to our house, Nick. I’m so glad to meet you at last.’
As he stepped over the threshold Nick was almost bowled over by Travis who rushed up to him. ‘Choc?’ he said expectantly.
Shirley swooped on her son and picked him up. ‘Behave yourself, Travis. You don’t ask people for sweets the moment they walk through the front door.’ She smiled at Nick. ‘Come and have a drink. Steven’s managed to get hold of a bottle of gin and we’ve got baby orange juice. They didn’t have any tonic in the shop.’
‘Or there’s tea, if you’d prefer it,’ Mildred said, chuckling
. ‘Although if Fred Chinashop has had anything to do with it you’ll have drunk enough tea to last a lifetime. Come in, my dear, and sit down. We’re planning a party to celebrate.’
‘Celebrate what, Mum?’ Ginnie stared at her mother in astonishment. She had taken a chance in bringing Nick home without first warning her mother, but Shirley seemed to have taken it upon herself to pave the way.
‘It’s your birthday soon, dear,’ Mildred said smugly. ‘We’ve been talking it over and as it’s your twenty-first and you’ve beaten Colin Mallory at his own game, we think we should throw a proper party. The sort we used to have before the war. We’ll invite Avril and Lionel, and all your friends from Collier Lane.’ She shot a sideways glance at Nick. ‘It might even turn out to be a double celebration.’
Ginnie buried her face in the posy of roses and smiled at Nick. ‘Let’s hope there’s a moon that night.’
He nodded his head. ‘I’ll make sure there is.’
The official paperwork arrived and Ginnie found herself the proud proprietor of two shops in the parade. Avril transferred the necessary funds to pay the legal fees, but Ginnie insisted that Steven must draw up an agreement whereby she promised to repay her aunt at a fixed rate of interest over a set period. ‘You’re my first client since I decided to set up on my own,’ Steven said, when the document was signed and witnessed by Ida and Fred Chinashop in the office behind the shop.
Ginnie sat back in her chair and smiled. ‘We need an honest solicitor in this part of town, Steven. I’m sure you’ll do well.’
‘I’ve just got to find a suitable premises to work from, and then I’ll put my brass plate on the door, and I’ll be away. Shirley’s going to be my part-time secretary, which will suit both of us.’
‘She’s done well organising this party that Mum insists on throwing for my birthday,’ Ginnie said, nodding with approval. ‘Shirley’s got hidden depths. She’ll do you proud, Steven.’ She did not add that she hoped they might make a match of it. That would be going too far, but she was genuinely fond of Steven and she could only hope that one day Shirley would find happiness again and that it might be with someone like Steven.
Ginnie had little time to think about family matters when the builders moved into the shop. She did not want to lose trade by closing down and a canvas partition was erected, but still the sound of drilling and hammering made it almost impossible to hear, and brick and plaster dust seeped into the shop that had to be cleaned up at regular intervals. A rolled steel joist was erected where support was needed and an archway into Fred’s shop was constructed in a surprisingly short space of time. The bricklayers and plasterers did their work and the decorators came in to apply the final touches.
The work was completed on the morning of Ginnie’s twenty-first birthday. She was now the proud tenant of an enlarged premises and it just needed the shop fitters to do their work, building the necessary stands for the new lines in chinaware and household linens that she had on order.
It was her twenty-first birthday. She left the shop at six o’clock and went home to change. The house was oddly silent as the children were both tucked up in bed and the babysitter was ensconced in the front room with a plate of sandwiches, a slice of sponge cake and a pile of magazines supplied by Shirley. There was no sign of Shirley or their mother but Ginnie realised that they were probably at the hotel, sorting out last minute arrangements. Avril and Lionel were booked into the same venue as were Steven, Danny and Helga. Ginnie made up her mind to be nice to the Iron Nightingale, and she could only hope that Helga’s budding relationship with Danny might have mellowed her.
She filled the bath with water, revelling in the luxury of being able to use more than four inches of water, and she added a handful of bath salts, which were a birthday present from Mrs Martin. It was wonderful to relax and wallow in hot water after a hectic day at the shop, and afterwards when she was dressed and ready to go she waited for Nick to collect her as he had promised. She was suddenly nervous as well as excited. Tonight was her big night. All her family would be at the party as well as all her friends from Collier Lane. Nick had been with her every weekend since the tribunal but after his promise of moonlight and roses he had never raised the subject of their engagement. She knew that he loved her and she loved him, but the old shadows had not been entirely dispelled. Her palms were moist and her heart was racing as she went to answer the doorbell.
The late summer evening was surprisingly mild and there was not a breath of wind as she opened the door. Purple shadows consumed the flowerbeds and the air was filled with the perfume of night-scented stock. The evening star twinkled in a duck-egg blue sky and Nick stood there, immaculate in an evening suit with a huge bouquet of roses in his hands. He glanced up at the ghostly silver outline of the moon. ‘It’ll be moonlight and roses for you tonight, my darling girl.’
She accepted the flowers with a tremulous smile. ‘It’s what you promised me, Nick.’
He took her by the hand and led her out into the garden. ‘I’ve even organised a full moon in your honour.’ He slipped his free hand into his pocket and took out a small leather box. ‘I wanted to do this now, while we are on our own. If it doesn’t fit we’ll change it, but I wanted to do this properly.’ He flicked the box open to reveal a diamond and sapphire ring. Still holding her hand he went down on one knee. ‘I love you with all my heart and soul, Ginnie. Will you marry me?’
She laid the roses gently on the step and leaned over to answer him with a kiss.
POPPY’S WAR
International bestselling author Lily Baxter returns with another emotional, heart-pounding saga set in World War II England
In 1939, thirteen-year-old Poppy is forced to evacuate her London home and flee to a grand country house on the coast of England. Alone and frightened, she arrives with only a set of clothes, a gas mask, and memories of the family she left behind, who she may never see again. But the cruel inhabitants of the house make life a misery for her and she longs for the love she once took for granted.
The years pass, the endless war rages on, and Poppy grows into a lovely young woman determined to do her part. Training as a nurse, she meets a dashing pilot who captures her heart, and for the first time in years, reminds her of a time before the war.
While England battles over land, sea, and sky, Poppy must fight every day to gain the family she’s always wanted, to find the love she’s been missing, and to discover who she truly is.
Coming April 2015
Chapter One
Barton Lacey, Dorset, August 1939
The wheezy noise made by the steam engine as it chugged out of the station was the saddest sound that Poppy had ever heard. She bit her lip, trying hard not to cry as her last link with the East End of London and home disappeared into the hazy afternoon sunshine.
The woman who had been put in charge of the school children was not their teacher, and she had warned them before they boarded the train at Waterloo that she was not a person to be trifled with. They were to address her as Mrs Hicks and woe betide anyone who called her miss, although miraculously no one had fallen into that trap during the journey, which had taken three long hours. Poppy could tell by their silence that the other children were also feeling tired, hungry and scared as the formidable Mrs Hicks herded them into a semblance of a crocodile while she performed a roll call on the station platform. She was a big woman, and the buttons on her blouse seemed to be in danger of flying off in all directions when her large bosom heaved with impatient sighs. Her tweed skirt was stretched tight across her bulging stomach, and when Bobby Moss had asked her if she had a baby in her tummy he had received a swift clip round the ear. That had quietened him down a bit, which was a relief to Poppy as he had been a pest throughout the long journey, pulling her hair and calling her silly names, but she had felt a bit sorry for him when she saw him huddled in the corner of the carriage nursing his ear, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.
‘Poppy Brown, stop daydreaming and follow the o
thers outside into the forecourt where the billeting officer will deal with you all as he sees fit.’ Mrs Hicks’ stentorian voice echoed round the empty station as Poppy fell in step beside Bobby. They were marched through the station ticket hall to stand outside on the forecourt, labelled like parcels and carrying their meagre belongings in brown paper bags, together with that mysterious but compulsory object in a box, a gas mask. Some of the children were snivelling miserably, others hung their heads and stared at their boots, while a few of the bigger boys fought and scrapped like wolf cubs attempting to establish a pecking order in their pack.
Poppy wanted to cry like Colin, the ragged boy standing next to her who had wet his pants and was plainly terrified of being found out. She patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘I expect they’ll take us somewhere nice and give us a slap-up tea.’ She did not believe that for one moment, but she was not going to admit to being scared stiff. She held her head high and stuck out her chin. ‘Up guards and at ‘em’ was what Grandad always said, taking his pipe out of his mouth and spitting into the fire as if to underline the importance of his words. ‘Don’t you let them country folk put one over on you, petal. If they does I’ll come down on the next train and give ’em a good seeing to. Chin up, Poppy. You come from a long line of brave soldiers, and don’t forget it.’
Poppy did not feel like a brave soldier or a brave anything at that moment. Mrs Hicks had vanished. Maybe she had eaten one too many biscuits and exploded somewhere out of sight, but she had been replaced by a man with a clipboard. He wore a pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses through which he peered at them like a myopic owl.
‘I’m Mr Walker,’ he announced as if this was something they ought to know. ‘I’m the billeting officer and I will find good homes to take care of you for the duration.’ He turned to a small group of people who had gathered behind him. None of them looked particularly enthusiastic at the prospect of taking on youngsters from the East End, and the raggle-taggle line of children began to fragment as some collapsed on the ground in tears and several others were sick. Probably from fright, Poppy thought, as she eyed their prospective hosts, recalling Mum’s last words to her as they had said a tearful goodbye outside the school gates at five thirty that morning.
