by Lily Baxter
The atmosphere in the room had become oppressive and she needed some fresh air. It was almost ten o’clock and the long summer evening was drawing to an end as she slipped out through the French windows onto the veranda. Deep shadows were engulfing the shrubbery, disguising the fact that there was an abundance of bindweed and brambles attempting to strangle the mock-orange and Weigela. Night-scented stocks filled the warm air with their sweetness, adding to the perfume of the tea roses in the flowerbed below the iron railings. Through the open windows of the small sitting room that was her grandmother’s retreat, Miranda could hear the strains of music emanating from the wireless. She could only guess that Granny had taken refuge there, and was probably snoozing in the saggy old chair that she refused to throw out, even though the upholstery had worn through on the arms and the springs beneath the cushions had long ago given up the ghost.
Grandpa was probably in his study where he retired every evening using the excuse that he had official papers to read before morning, although Miranda knew that he went there to smoke his pipe and enjoy a little peace and quiet. Granny disapproved of smoking, which demonstrated how far she was prepared to go in order to make the evacuees feel at home. No one in the family would normally have been allowed to smoke in the house, even Jack.
Miranda stood at the top of the flight of steps leading down to the garden and breathed deeply. The sweet scents of summer, mingling with the salty smell of the seaweed washed up on the beach, brought back happy memories of family holidays spent at Highcliffe. She felt her throat constrict as she remembered her father teaching her to swim in the warm shallows close to the beach, and her mother sunbathing on the sand with a straw hat shading her face. She recalled outings to the Swannery to see the newly hatched baby swans and cream teas in the surrounding villages. They had gone shrimping at Ferrybridge and taken long walks along the coastal path on hot summer afternoons, ending with a cream tea in a quaint tearoom. It all seemed like a dream now, far removed from the reality of barbed wire and concrete and the constant fear of air raids. A shelter had been dug into the lawn at the far side of the garden and with its spiky covering of turf it looked like a giant hedgehog slumbering in the lengthening shadows. She sighed, wondering if life would ever be the same again.
‘Hey there.’
Startled, she stifled an involuntary cry as a man emerged from the shrubbery.
Chapter Five
‘SORRY, DARLING. DID I make you jump?’
‘Uncle Jack – you brute.’ She sank down on one of the steamer chairs, clutching her hand to her racing heart. ‘You scared me half to death.’
He took the steps two at a time and dropped his valise on the decking. ‘I didn’t know you’d be here, poppet.’
‘You’re in for it,’ she said, smiling and shaking her head. ‘I thought Granny was going to have a heart attack when she saw the telegram boy.’
‘I know. I’d had a few sherbets when I sent it and I realised too late that it was a damned silly thing to do, but it was gone midnight and I knew everyone would be tucked up in bed, and that I wouldn’t have time today.’
‘Why couldn’t you contact Granny this morning? What have you been up to?’
He perched on the veranda railing, tossing his uniform cap onto the rattan table. Taking a cigarette case from his pocket he flipped it open and offered it to her. ‘Have you acquired the habit yet?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. Anyway, please be serious for a moment and tell me what’s going on.’
He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, exhaling with a satisfied sigh. ‘I needed that. Had to travel all the way in a non-smoking compartment; what we men do for love.’
She rose to her feet, her patience stretched to the limit. ‘Uncle Jack, if you don’t stop talking in riddles I’ll push you into the rose bed.’
‘For heaven’s sake, stop calling me Uncle Jack; it makes me feel as if I’m forty and over the hill.’
‘Okay, I will, but only if you start from the beginning. Why are you here at all and who’s your latest popsy?’
He stared at her in mock horror. ‘Who taught you such vulgar slang, Miranda?’
‘You did, Jack.’
‘Fair enough. Well, as it’s you I’ll tell all, but it’s a secret. I don’t want the family to find out. Not yet, anyway.’
‘My goodness. You must be serious about this one.’
‘So young and yet so cynical.’ He drew on his cigarette and blew a perfect smoke ring. ‘She’s the prettiest little thing you ever saw. Not that I’d expect you to appreciate that, but this one is different. She’s a lady.’
‘No! Well, that’s a turn up for the books. You usually go for the peroxide blonde bimbos.’
‘You’ve grown up, Miranda Beddoes. Where’s that cute little girl with pigtails and freckles who used to think I was the sparrow’s chirp?’
‘I still do, but as you say I’m an adult now, and there’s a war on. Everyone will have to grow up, including you.’
His smile faded and he flicked the dog-end into the flowerbed. ‘I’m under orders to join my squadron tomorrow afternoon, and as far as I can see we’re going to be operational straight away.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that.’
He leaned over to pat her on the shoulder. ‘Nor me, darling. But we’ve got to sort this thing out soon and I’m going to do my bit.’
‘And your new girlfriend? Where does she fit in?’
‘She’s beautiful and she’s got brains.’ He held up his hands. ‘I know, not my type at all, but I can’t help that. I met her at a party last night and I’m well and truly smitten.’
‘You only met her last night?’ Miranda stared at him in disbelief. ‘That’s quick, even for you, Jack.’
‘Love at first sight, poppet. A coup de foudre as the Froggies call it.’
‘And does she feel the same about you?’
‘I very much hope so.’
‘And are you going to see her again?’
‘I’m seeing her tomorrow, but I don’t want anyone to find out. Not yet, anyway. You won’t tell on me, Miranda?’
‘Tell what?’ Maggie burst through the open French windows like an avenging angel, but the illusion was somewhat marred by the fact that she was wearing her dressing gown and slippers. ‘What have you done this time, you libertine?’ Despite her angry words she was smiling. ‘You’d better have a good reason for scaring me half to death, you bad boy.’
Jack leapt to his feet and enveloped her in a hug. ‘I’m sorry, Mother. I couldn’t phone because it was very late at night and …’
‘And you were drunk,’ Maggie said, holding him at arm’s length. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me, Jack? Aren’t you ever going to turn into a respectable man like your father?’
He looped his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m a reformed character, dearest. But before I collapse with hunger, could you rustle up something for me to eat? I’m absolutely starving.’
‘Come to the kitchen and I’ll see if there’s anything left. The gannets are going to eat us out of house and home.’
‘Gannets? What are you talking about, Mother?’
‘Evacuees,’ Miranda said before her grandmother had a chance to explain. ‘Granny is being a war hero, I mean heroine, and she’s taken in refugees from the Channel Islands. The house is bursting at the seams with mothers and their kids. I’m even having to share with Rita.’
Jack looked from one to the other, shaking his head. ‘Who the hell is Rita? What’s going on, Mother?’
Maggie took him by the arm. ‘I’ll explain everything.’
‘I can scramble eggs.’ Miranda was about to follow them but her grandmother barred her way.
‘It’s bedtime for you, young lady.’
‘But Granny …’
‘Rita will be lonely on her first night away from home and you’ve had a busy day. You can see Jack in the morning but now it’s up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.’
Next morning M
iranda was up early and after a cat’s lick of a wash she put on a clean frock, brushed her hair and slipped her feet into her sandals before going downstairs. She had planned to make an early morning cup of tea for Jack in the hope of finding out exactly what was going on in his complicated love life, but as she opened the kitchen door she was engulfed by a wave of noise and cigarette smoke and the aroma of hot fat sizzling in a frying pan.
Standing by the kitchen range, wearing one of Annie’s floral pinafores, Jack tossed a pancake and slid it onto a plate held by one of the older evacuee children. ‘Form an orderly queue, if you please,’ he said cheerfully.
The children obediently fell into line clutching their plates like small Oliver Twists. Jack poured a ladleful of batter into the pan. ‘Miranda, you’re just in time for a pancake, but you’ll have to get to the end of the queue. There’s no favouritism here.’
She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m not very hungry.’
‘He’s a dab hand at cooking,’ one of the women said, smiling. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing, dear.’
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ Jack said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the babble of conversation and the eager chatter of the children. ‘I expect the ladies could do with some more tea, though. Would you be an angel and make a fresh brew?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Miranda gave him a mock salute and picked up the big brown teapot. She had filled it several times before Jack finished cooking. He took off his apron with a flourish. ‘I’m afraid the cookhouse is closed for the time being, ladies.’ He smiled and bowed as the mothers gave him a round of applause. ‘Thank you for that, and now I’m sure I can leave you to clear up the terrible mess I’ve made.’ He gave them his most charming smile. ‘I am but a mere male and can’t compete when it comes to making order out of chaos.’ He ushered Miranda hastily from the room without giving them the chance to object.
Outside in the sunny back yard he lit a cigarette. ‘Thank God I’m only expected to fly an aeroplane. I take my hat off to cooks and chefs slaving away over a hot stove all day.’
‘Just what are you playing at?’ Miranda studied his handsome face, wondering what it was about her uncle that made women fall over themselves to please him. It was not just his undeniable good looks or inborn charm; there must be something else. He could treat women badly and yet they always seemed to forgive him. It was a mystery.
Jack took a last drag on his cigarette and tossed it onto the concrete, grinding it to pieces beneath the toe of his shiny black shoe. ‘Come on, Miranda. Let’s go for a spin in Chloe.’
‘Lovely. But where to?’
He strode off, calling over his shoulder. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’
It was cool in the country lanes where the ancient beeches, oaks and horse chestnuts leaned over to interlace their branches forming a tunnel of green shade. They had travelled several miles in companionable silence but when Jack slowed Chloe down, changing gear as they approached the entrance to what appeared to be a country estate, Miranda’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘Where are we going?’
He signalled left and drove through the open gateway. Miranda had often passed the intricate wrought-iron gates on her way to Dorchester, but until today she had not given a second thought to what lay behind them. She twisted round in her seat. ‘Who lives here?’
‘She does,’ he said with a beatific smile. ‘The love of my life lives here. This is my idea of heaven.’
‘So why the secrecy?’
‘It’s a long story and even I don’t know the whole of it.’ He pulled up in front of the main entrance and switched off the engine. ‘Wait here for a moment. I’m not sure what sort of reception I’ll get.’ He climbed out without giving her a chance to interrogate him further and he bounded up the front steps to the impressive Georgian portico.
Miranda sat in the car, hardly able to contain her curiosity. The house was set like a jewel in a vast expanse of private parkland, and it seemed like another world as yet untouched by war. It was like stepping back in time with a mystery thrown in for good measure. The suspense was almost too much to bear, but luckily she did not have long to wait before the door was opened by a middle-aged woman wearing a white pinafore. She did not look grand enough to be the lady of the manor and the house was certainly large enough to warrant staff to run it, even in wartime. Perhaps it was a secret military establishment and Jack had been recruited to work as a spy. Miranda was mulling this over when Jack turned and beckoned to her. She needed no further encouragement to leap out of the car and join him at the top of the steps.
‘Mrs Beasley, this is my niece, Miranda. She’s very keen to meet Isabel.’ He gave Miranda’s hand a gentle squeeze and she realised this was her cue.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said with an emphatic nod.
‘You’d better come in, sir.’ Mrs Beasley stood aside, ushering them into the spacious entrance hall.
Miranda gazed about her and was both impressed and overawed by the classic simplicity of the marble-tiled floor and the high ceiling supported by Corinthian columns. A cantilevered staircase swept upwards to a galleried first floor and the scent of roses and lilies filled the air. It was a bit like a film set but Miranda was quick to note the homely touch of a dog’s lead draped over a hall chair and a riding hat set askew on the alabaster bust of a long dead poet.
Mrs Beasley closed the front door. ‘If you’d like to wait in the morning room I’ll tell her you’re here.’ She led the way to a large sunny room at the back of the house.
‘What’s going on?’ Miranda demanded as soon as they were alone. ‘I don’t understand it, Jack. If you’ve only got a few hours with your girlfriend, why have you dragged me along to play gooseberry?’
He met her puzzled gaze with a rueful grin. ‘Sorry, kid. I shouldn’t have left you in the dark, but it’s a bit delicate.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jack, spit it out. You like this girl and she likes you. What’s the problem?’
‘An old family feud, that’s the problem. The Carstairs and the Beddoes don’t get along. I don’t know the full story but it goes back years, and I was afraid that if her family got wind of our relationship they would try to put a stop to it.’
‘Carstairs?’ Suddenly it was beginning to make sense. ‘Has she got a brother called Raif?’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘D’you know him?’
‘Not really, but he gave Rita and me a lift home when there was no one to meet us at the station. Then when Granny sent me to find transport for the evacuees I happened to bump into him and he offered to help.’
‘I can’t imagine him going out of his way to help the Beddoes family.’
‘I don’t know about that. Anyway, he borrowed a truck and drove us all home. I thought that Granny was a bit cool towards him and I couldn’t understand why.’
‘Well, now you know, and that’s why I brought you here today. I thought it would look better from the Carstairs’ point of view if I had you to chaperone their daughter.’
She linked her hand through his arm. ‘You really have got it bad, haven’t you?’
‘I was smitten the moment I saw her. You’ll see why when you meet her. She’s an absolute angel.’
‘So you said before. I can’t wait to meet this paragon.’
‘Shh. Someone’s coming.’ Jack pulled free from her to straighten his tie as the door opened and a pretty, fair-haired girl hurried into the room.
‘Jack. I didn’t think you’d come.’ She stopped, gazing at Miranda with a puzzled half-smile. ‘Hello.’
Sensing Isabel’s confusion on seeing her new boyfriend with another girl, and realising that her normally urbane uncle was suddenly at a loss for words, Miranda stepped forward holding out her hand. ‘I’m Jack’s niece, Miranda. How do you do?’
‘How do you do, Miranda? I’m so happy to meet a member of Jack’s family. I daresay he’s told you that our parents don’t exactly see eye to eye.’
She blushed prettily. ‘Don’t, Jack. You’ll embarrass Miranda.’
‘Is your brother at home?’ The words spilled from Miranda’s lips before she could stop herself. ‘I mean, he did us a big favour yesterday. I just wanted to say thank you.’
‘Did he?’ Isabel eyed her curiously. ‘I didn’t realise that Raif knew Jack’s family.’
‘Is he at home?’ Jack glanced round the room as if he expected Raif to pop up from behind a chair. ‘Did you tell him about me, Izzie?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t get a chance. He was called back to the aerodrome at Warmwell last night even though he had a twenty-four-hour pass. I think his leave has been cancelled, that’s why I’m surprised to see you here today, Jack. I thought you would have gone by now.’
‘Actually that’s a huge coincidence. I’m to report at Warmwell late this afternoon.’
‘So you’ll be in my brother’s squadron?’
‘It looks like it. Anyway, I’ve got until after lunch, so I thought perhaps we could all go for a spin in Chloe, and have a bite to eat at a country pub, unless you’ve got anything else planned.’
‘Not a thing and that sounds like heaven, but is it all right with you, Miranda? I mean it seems a bit unfair for me to butt in when you’ve only seen your uncle for such a brief time.’ Isabel’s smile transformed her face from pretty to almost beautiful. If it had not been for a slightly crooked tilt of her lips and a mischievous dimple in her right cheek her features would have had the perfect symmetry so beloved of the Renaissance sculptors. Miranda could see why her uncle had been utterly captivated by Isabel Beddoes. Not only was she lovely to look at but she was nice as well, and that in Miranda’s experience was a rare quality. The girls she had known at school who were considered to be the best lookers were often conceited and sometimes bitchy. ‘I don’t mind if you don’t, Isabel.’
