by Lily Baxter
‘That was then, Gil. Things are quite different now.’
‘Yes,’ he said gently. ‘They are and I won’t hold you to anything. You’ve been absolutely marvellous, and I don’t think I could have kept going if you hadn’t written those wonderfully funny and charming letters. I’ve lived for your visits, but we’ve got to be realistic.’
She shuddered, chilled to the bone by his words. ‘No, you really don’t understand.’
He took her hand in his and squeezed it. ‘You don’t have to break it gently. I’d be a complete ass if I thought that things would work out between us now.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Miranda felt that she was sinking in quicksand and the more she tried to explain her feelings the deeper she sank. If she could not make him understand, she would drown.
‘Let’s be practical. I’ve still got a long way to go before I’m back to something close to normal, if ever. What I said about flying again was balderdash. I’m held together with nuts and bolts and bits of wire.’
‘That doesn’t matter to me, Gil.’
‘I wouldn’t want to tie you to a semi-invalid. You deserve better, my darling.’
‘But I love you, Gil.’
He was silent for a moment, looking deeply into her eyes, and then he shook his head. ‘Don’t mistake pity for love, Miranda. If you’d said that to me before all this happened I’d have been the happiest man in the world, but I wouldn’t want you to stay because you were sorry for me, especially when I know there’s someone else in the background.’
She snatched her hand away. ‘How can you be so stupid? I don’t want Raif, I want you. How can I make you believe me?’
‘What’s going on?’ Fliss erupted into the room. ‘I could hear you from down the corridor.’
‘He won’t listen to me.’ Miranda leapt to her feet. ‘Your brother is a stubborn idiot.’
‘You should go,’ Fliss said, frowning. ‘You need to calm down; you’re upsetting him.’
Miranda dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘I am calm. It’s Gil who’s being difficult.’
He had paled alarmingly and as he made an unsuccessful attempt to stand Fliss abandoned Miranda and hurried to his side. ‘I don’t know what’s gone on between you two but this isn’t doing him any good. Please leave now, Miranda.’
She hesitated in the doorway. ‘Gil?’
He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. ‘Do as Fliss says, please.’
‘All right, but I’ll come again as soon as I get another day off.’
‘Better not,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t feel bad about it. I do understand.’
Fliss gazed down at her fob watch as she took his pulse. ‘I’d better get Sister to take a look at you, Gil.’ She turned a stony face to Miranda. ‘I have no idea what this is all about but his pulse is racing.’
‘I’ve simply been trying to tell him that I love him and I want to be with him.’
Fliss took her by the shoulders and ejected her from the room. ‘Give him some time to get himself together, Miranda,’ she said, moderating her tone. ‘I’m not unsympathetic but I must put his needs first. He’s still got a long way to go and he’s being sent to a rehabilitation centre next week.’
‘But I can’t just leave things as they are.’
‘I can’t talk now. I’ll let you know his new address and you can write to him.’ Fliss hurried off, leaving Miranda staring after her. She wanted desperately to make things right with Gil but she could not risk upsetting him again, and, with the greatest reluctance, she left the hospital.
She had plenty of time to think during the journey home and she went over their conversation again and again in her mind, blaming herself entirely for her failure to convince Gil that she meant every word she had said. She had told him that she loved him but he had chosen to believe that she still harboured feelings for Raif. If only she had left those few lines out of her last letter to him. The words kept repeating in her head to the rhythm of the iron wheels going over the points, until she wanted to put her hands over her ears and scream. She had won the battle with his mother only to lose Gil over a stupid misunderstanding.
She stumbled off the train at the end of the line barely conscious of her movements. The only taxi had already been taken and she was forced to walk to the seafront to wait for a bus to take her back to Highcliffe. She was only dimly aware of the activity in the bay, which was packed with military vessels. The town was heaving with soldiers, both British and American, but she was oblivious to it all. She arrived home to find the front door wide open and she hurried inside. She hesitated, looking round and half expecting to see the doctor with his black Gladstone bag coming down the stairs, or a police officer manhandling a burglar, but all was quiet. She took off her hat and hung it on the hallstand but in the process she knocked over the umbrella stand. The sound echoed through the house, and as she picked it up she heard her grandmother’s voice calling her name. ‘If that’s you, Miranda, we’re in the drawing room. Come in here, darling. I’ve got a surprise for you.’
The sight that met her eyes as she entered the room completely took her breath away. She came to a sudden halt. ‘Maman!’
Jeanne Beddoes crossed the floor to fling her arms around her daughter. ‘Ma chère Miranda. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘It really is you, Maman.’ Miranda held her at arm’s length, taking in her mother’s changed appearance. She was thinner than before and lines of fatigue were etched on her fine features, but her dark eyes were bright with emotion and she was smiling.
‘It’s me all right,’ Jeanne said, gazing at her fondly. ‘But you’ve changed, Miranda. You were just a girl when I left and now you’re a beautiful young woman.’
Miranda threw her arms around her mother, holding her as though she would never let her go. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. I couldn’t believe it when Granny told me you might be coming home.’
Jeanne stroked Miranda’s hair back from her forehead. ‘There were times when I thought I wouldn’t make it, but I’m here now, chérie. I’ll never leave you again, I promise.’ She pulled a hanky from her pocket and dabbed her eyes.
‘Don’t get weepy,’ Maggie said, rising from the sofa. ‘You’ll start us all off if you do, and this is a day for celebrations.’ She turned to her husband who had been sitting quietly in his usual chair. ‘George, surely we’ve got a bottle of something hidden away somewhere. We must celebrate.’
‘I might have a tot of brandy in my study,’ he said, rising from his seat by the open window. ‘I’ll have a look.’
‘You could always ask Annie,’ Maggie said with a wry smile. ‘I’m sure she’s got some cooking sherry tucked away in the pantry.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ George said, making for the doorway. ‘Perhaps I should get Annie in to share the moment.’
Maggie nodded emphatically. ‘Of course.’ She turned to Miranda. ‘And how did it go with your young man?’
‘What’s all this about?’ Jeanne asked, smiling. ‘I’ve missed so much. You must tell me everything.’
‘He sent me away. I couldn’t make him understand.’ The iron self-control that Miranda had been exerting since she left the hospital suddenly deserted her. Tears flooded down her cheeks and she sobbed against her mother’s shoulder. ‘First Dad and now Gil; they’re both gone.’
‘I’d better leave you to it, Jeanne.’ Maggie headed for the doorway, almost colliding with her husband. She shooed him out of the room. ‘Not now, George. Let’s give them a bit of privacy. Time for celebrations later.’
Gradually and in between hiccuping sobs, Miranda managed to tell her mother everything. Jeanne held her hand, exerting a gentle pressure when needed and passing a clean hanky when Miranda’s was too wet to absorb any more salty tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ Miranda said, wiping her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t be burdening you with my troubles when you’ve just arrived. God knows what you went through in France, and you must miss Dad terrib
ly.’
‘Of course I do, Miranda. He was the love of my life and I don’t expect to find that again, but you mustn’t apologise, chérie. I’m just glad to be here now and my story will wait. Anyway, tomorrow I’ve got to go up to London for a debriefing at the War Office, although it’s just a formality.’
‘And I’ve got to go back to the aerodrome.’ Miranda moved to the mantelpiece and took down the photograph of her father. She held it out to her mother. ‘I kept this safe for you.’
Jeanne’s dark eyes filled with tears as she took the photo frame and she held it to her lips. ‘Mon cher Ronnie, you will always be in my heart.’
Miranda cleared her throat. ‘What will you do after the debriefing? Will you come back here?’
Jeanne shook her head. ‘I’ve talked it through with your grandmother, Miranda. I need to stay in London for a while and find out what help we can get to rebuild the house, if that’s at all possible. I’ll stay with friends until everything is sorted and then I’ll decide what to do.’
‘I hadn’t thought how people would manage after the war,’ Miranda said thoughtfully. ‘Although it’s not over yet.’
‘The Allies have liberated Rome, and judging by the number of ships and landing craft in the bay I think it’s safe to say that something momentous is about to happen.’
‘I know. The town was heaving with soldiers and the streets are lined with tanks, but I didn’t give it much thought.’
‘The end is in sight, chérie, and I think you should take the first opportunity to go and see your young man again. You need to put him straight on a few matters.’ Jean subsided gracefully onto the sofa, still clutching the photograph of her late husband. ‘He is the one, isn’t he, Miranda? You aren’t still harbouring feelings for Raif Carstairs?’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Your grandmother told me what’s been going on in my absence. I can understand your dilemma.’
‘I know my own mind. Why won’t anyone believe me?’ Miranda went to stand by the French windows, staring out at the incredible scene in the bay.
‘You have to believe it yourself, ma chère. You’re the only one who knows exactly how you feel, and you can’t blame Gil for being worried when a man like Raif Carstairs is his rival.’
‘You don’t know Raif, Maman.’
‘No, but I met his father once at a cocktail party in London. Now I know the full story I can understand how he managed to sweep Maggie off her feet, and if his son is anything like him, then I can see why you were so smitten. Sometimes it’s hard to get over one’s first love.’
‘It was just a crush.’
‘It’s yourself you need to convince, chérie.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
JEANNE LEFT FOR London next day and Miranda returned to Warmwell to find the aerodrome on full alert with all leave cancelled. No one knew exactly what was planned, but it was obviously going to be a major push to liberate France.
That night the incessant drone of planes filled the skies and next morning the airfield was deserted. The girls crowded round the wireless in the mess later that day to hear the news that the Allies had landed in France and beaten the Germans back, but the war was far from over.
Once again Miranda had to force herself to settle into a daily routine, putting her personal problems aside. She had written to Gil in the hope of making him believe that she had been sincere in her feelings for him. She sent the letter to the address that Fliss had given her, but she had so far not received a reply. Rita was sympathetic but advised her to wait and be patient. ‘Give him time to recuperate,’ she said one night when she discovered Miranda downstairs in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, drinking tea. She sat down at the table and poured a cup for herself. ‘Give him a chance to get back on his feet, Manda.’ She lit a cigarette in the flame of the paraffin lamp, inhaling deeply and blowing smoke rings into the beamed ceiling. ‘How would you feel if you were a bloke and hardly able to totter around on your pins, and you thought that your girl was stuck on a handsome flyboy who was still in a POW camp? You’d be pretty sick about it, if you ask me.’
‘I can barely remember what Raif looks like.’
‘But Gil doesn’t know that. He’s like all men, he wants to sweep you off your feet and feel he’s the only one in the world for you.’ She flicked ash into the dying embers of the range. ‘I know, because I’ve waited long enough for Jack to see me as a woman. Of course he’ll never forget Izzie, but life goes on.’
Miranda stared at her in amazement. ‘I always knew you liked him, but I didn’t think it was anything serious.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Rita said triumphantly. ‘You can’t see what’s beneath your nose.’
‘So are you and Jack a couple now?’
Rita stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘Filthy habit. I’ve promised Jack that if he manages to stay alive, I’ll give up smoking, and then we’ll see.’
‘You mean he’s asked you to marry him?’
‘You don’t think it’s too soon after Izzie’s death, do you?’
Miranda leapt up to give her a hug. ‘No, of course not. She adored Jack and she wouldn’t have wanted him to mourn forever.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I’ve been blind. I think it’s wonderful and you’re just what he needs. Have you set a date?’
Rita shook her head. ‘Not yet. We’ll have to join the queue. It’ll be Tommy and Joan who tie the knot first, then me and Jack. It’s up to you what happens next.’
Tommy and Joan were married in August 1944 with Viv, Rita and Miranda as bridesmaids. The reception for just a few close friends was held in the Frampton Arms. Rita was showing off a large diamond and sapphire engagement ring, and Viv had a burly army sergeant in tow. Miranda was very conscious that she was the only one without a partner, but she was determined not to allow her personal feelings to spoil Joan’s big day.
She had continued to write to Gil but he had not replied to any of her letters, and although Fliss wrote occasionally her scribbled notes were brief and contained very little information other than the fact that she was engaged to Robert Forbes. She said that Gil was progressing quite well and Miranda had to be content with that. She had thought about visiting him at the convalescent home, but it was not simply pride that held her back. She was afraid he might have met someone else during their long months of separation. After all, Captain Forbes had fallen in love with Fliss, and Gil would have been surrounded by attractive young women who tended to his every need. Miranda had never felt so helpless or so completely alone.
Jack and Rita were married in the local church at the beginning of May and once again Miranda and Viv were bridesmaids. Joan was heavily pregnant and had declined Rita’s invitation to act as matron of honour, saying with a wry smile that it would take a mile of parachute silk to make a dress that would fit her and she would still look like a Zeppelin. She attended the service but stole the limelight at the reception in the church hall by going into labour. Tommy had to rush her to hospital, where she gave birth to twin boys.
Rita and Jack spent their one night honeymoon in a hotel on Weymouth seafront, and Rita returned to work the next day. She found Miranda in the workshop mending a puncture. ‘Fancy having to come back to this dump,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘Especially when I’m supposed to be the blushing bride.’
Miranda cast a sideways glance in her direction. ‘You’ve never blushed in your life, Rita Platt, I mean Mrs Beddoes.’
‘Doesn’t that sound lovely?’ Rita gazed into a fly-blown mirror above the workbench. ‘We’ll have a proper honeymoon when it’s all over,’ she said, grinning broadly. ‘It’s not as if it was our first time.’
Miranda held up her hand. ‘I really didn’t need to know that, thanks.’
‘It’s about time you stopped being a vestal virgin, Manda. Have you done anything about seeing Gil? He must be well and truly on the mend by now, or have you given up?’
&nb
sp; ‘No, I haven’t given up as you put it. I had a letter from Fliss yesterday as it happens. She told me that Gil expects to be allowed home quite soon. He’s going to work for the family firm as soon as he gets his discharge from the RAF.’
‘So what are you going to do about it?’
Miranda shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I last saw him and he hasn’t bothered to answer my letters. Maybe he was trying to tell me that his feelings had changed, but didn’t know how to break it to me.’
‘And you’re an idiot if you believe that.’
‘Shut up, Auntie Rita.’
‘Oo-er,’ Rita said, chuckling. ‘I hadn’t thought about being your aunt, but as I am you’d better pay attention to me, my girl.’
Miranda stuck her tongue out and walked over to the bicycle with the tyre slung over her shoulder.
‘Oh, very adult,’ Rita called after her. ‘I’ll have to report you to your uncle.’
Miranda came to a halt as Viv raced into the workshop. ‘It’s over, girls. The bloody war’s over. I just heard it on the wireless in the mess.’
The news took some assimilating at first. After more than five years it seemed almost impossible that the conflict in Europe was at an end. Miranda, Viv and Rita were demobbed relatively quickly as their services were no longer needed, and Joan was already a full-time housewife and mother. Tommy had found them a cottage in one of the outlying villages and he was just waiting for his papers so that he could apply for a job as an ambulance man. Jack and Rita had moved into Highcliffe until they could find a more permanent home, although Jack had to travel daily to the aerodrome while he waited for his demob to come through.
Miranda was under pressure to move back to London and live with her mother, who had rented a small flat in Chelsea until the rebuilding of their house in Woodford was completed. Jeanne had returned to the War Office with promotion and a considerably higher salary. She suggested that Miranda might apply for the job of copy typist in her department, but Miranda could not see herself settling down to work in an office. She was no longer the carefree young girl who had left London at the beginning of the war. She had changed and nothing was the same. There was no going back for her, but she could not see the way forward. She left the castle and all its memories, closing the door on that part of her life, and returned to Highcliffe.
