by Molly Green
‘Not any more. She might have begun to love me once, but then I told her we could only be friends.’
‘Why the devil did you tell her that?’
Murray was silent. How could he explain to Shorty of all people that he didn’t want Junie to waste her life on him? It would sound as though Shorty would have no hope whatsoever of finding happiness. And didn’t he have a girlfriend? Murray tried to rack his tired brain. Yes, Shorty had definitely mentioned a girl when they were at Speke. Come to think of it, she was a nurse. But he’d never seen her visit him. She must have ditched him right away when she’d heard how badly he’d been injured.
‘I was falling in love with her,’ Murray went on, ‘and then so many pilots didn’t come back and I didn’t want to end up so badly injured that she’d only stay with me out of loyalty – she’s that sort of person. And that was before the crash. Before all my fears came true.’ A self-pitying tear ran down his cheek.
‘You were worried you’d end up like me, you mean,’ Shorty said quietly.
‘I’m so sorry, old pal. I didn’t mean it to come out like that, but I didn’t want June to waste the rest of her life if anything happened to me.’
There was an awkward silence between them. Finally, Shorty broke it.
‘Do you know what’s keeping me going?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘My girl, Connie, still loves me. She says she doesn’t care tuppence about what my face looks like. It’s me inside she loves. And that’s how your June will be. You’re a bloody fool, Andrews, to let her slip away like that. And you know damn well she loves you. But she’s hurt, and I don’t blame her.’
Murray lay there for several minutes taking in what Shorty was saying. He recalled the love shining in June’s eyes each time she came to visit him. He’d wanted to tell her there and then that he loved her. What a bloody fool he was. But maybe it wasn’t too late.
‘Shorty,’ he finally called across to the next bed. ‘Thanks, old boy. I think you’ve put it all into perspective.’
‘Mind you tell her next time,’ Shorty grunted.
‘Tell her what?’
‘That you’re crazy about her, you idiot. And you intend to marry her – before anyone else gets there first.’
Before he could reply the ginger-haired nurse appeared again, followed by a smiling young woman with chestnut hair.
‘He’s over there, love,’ the nurse said, gesturing.
Murray watched in astonishment as the young woman made straight for Shorty’s bed and bent over him.
‘Darling, it’s me – Connie.’
June was in for a shock when she arrived at the hospital the following day.
‘I’m afraid we needed the bed so we released him as he was doing so well.’ It was the nurse who had reminded her of Iris.
‘Where did they send him?’ June asked.
‘Back to RAF Speke.’ She regarded June with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re not his fiancée, are you?’
June blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ she stuttered, ‘but there was no other way and I—’
‘It’s all right. I wouldn’t dream of standing in love’s way.’ The nurse unexpectedly grinned. She took out her watch fob and glanced at the time. ‘You should have told me as much when you first came in two days ago. You just said you were a friend – a close friend, is how I believe you described it. Then changed your mind next time and said you were his fiancée.’ She laughed. ‘He’s a lovely chap. Somewhat bitter at the moment but who can blame him? I’d go for him myself if he didn’t already have a fiancée.’ She gave June a wink and laughed.
June smiled politely back but she felt sick at the thought that through her own stupidity she’d lost Murray – lost his heart forever.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
She dreaded the long journey back to Liverpool. Every nerve was on edge, thinking about Murray and how bad he must be feeling, all this while imagining she’d gone to bed with Chas. That she was a good-time girl. Not the girl he’d thought she was. No wonder he hadn’t wanted any visitors – her especially. She clung on to the fact that he’d come round a bit at the end of their first visit, but he hadn’t been the same person. Of course the accident was terrible and it was bound to make you feel depressed and worried about the future, and that’s what she’d thought had wrought such a change in him, but now she knew the truth. Chas was at the bottom of it all. She swallowed hard. Surely Murray must be feeling bad that he hadn’t given her a chance to explain before now – now that they were moving him. If only he’d left a note for her.
June arrived in Liverpool two and a half hours later than was scheduled. They would have had supper at the home by now but she wasn’t hungry. Already Murray’s face was blurred in her mind. Maybe it was because she was tired. So much had happened in the last few days that her brain felt as though it would burst.
The taxi dropped her outside the front door of Bingham Hall. The driver hopped out and put her suitcase on the drive, then helped her out of the taxi. June couldn’t help tilting her head back to take in the magnificent house – just as she had the very first time she’d caught sight of it. She’d made it her home as far as she could, and now she’d made the decision that this was where she’d stay as long as they needed her. She rang the bell.
Gilbert opened the door to her – the last person she wanted to see. His black eyes seemed to pierce right through her and she flinched. If looks could kill, I’d be dead, she thought, as she stepped into the hall.
Shuddering under Gilbert’s malevolent stare she was grateful to see Iris come running towards her.
‘Junie. You’re back. I’ve missed you. We’ve all missed you.’ She hugged her friend and whispered, ‘Meet you in the common room for a cup of tea.’ She looked at her friend. ‘You look terrible. Have you eaten?’
June shook her head.
‘I’ll make you a sandwich. See you in a few minutes.’
With an effort June dragged her case up the stairs, feeling Gilbert’s eyes still on her, watching her every movement until she finally turned the corner out of his sight. She set her case down, too tired to unpack it, and stepped over to the washbasin to splash her face. She looked up into the mirror and couldn’t recognise herself. Her hair, which she’d tucked into a snood that morning, had half escaped, and there were long strands falling away at the sides and the back of her neck. Her face was flecked with smuts that must have blown in when she’d stuck her head out of the corridor window in the train to catch a breeze; her skin looked sallow and there were deep shadows under her eyes.
She sat on the bed and wept. She cried for her father she’d lost when she was still a child; she cried for Lizzie and Joachim going through so much worse, losing their families; she cried for the way Chas had tried to take advantage of her, which had destroyed Murray’s trust in her; she cried for poor Shorty in the next bed to Murray – he would have to undergo many more operations but he was so cheerful; but most of all she cried because Murray only wanted her as a friend. He didn’t love her. He never would.
Finally, when she had no more tears left, she dragged herself up and took a handkerchief from her drawer and blew her nose. This wouldn’t do. She mustn’t wallow in self-pity. She had so much here – Iris, who’d become such a dear friend, and Kathleen and Bertie, and even Barbara, Athena and David were kind and friendly, and she had the children. They were the whole reason she was here. To help heal her broken heart from when Clara died. And although she would never forget Clara, never stop loving her, her heart had begun to mend. She’d made a mistake, that’s all, thinking Murray might become part of her healing. Well, it wasn’t to be. She must face it head on.
She sniffed and dried the last of her tears. A cup of tea. That’s what she needed, with her dear Iris. Resolutely, she made her way down the staircase and into the common room where Iris sat waiting for her.
‘Get this down you.’ Iris sprang up to give June a plate with a thickly cut cheese sandwich.
‘And here’s your tea. Hope it’s still hot.’ She handed her a cup and added wickedly, ‘I’ve put in half a teaspoon of extra sugar. You looked like you needed it.’
‘So long as Matron doesn’t find out,’ June said with a small smile, gulping down half the lukewarm contents. ‘Or Cook, for that matter.’
‘Talking of Matron, I have news.’ Iris’s eyes were a sparkling deep blue and a grin spread over her face.
‘Oh?’
‘She’s gone!’
‘Who?’
‘Matron.’
‘Do you mean she’s gone for good?’
‘Yes.’
June’s mouth dropped open and she put her cup down with such force it rattled loudly on the saucer. ‘How? When? What happened?’
‘So many questions.’ Iris chuckled. ‘You missed all the fun. Mr Clarke came down and they were huddled together in Matron’s office for at least an hour. Then he left and eventually Matron emerged in a cloud of smoke. She must have lit one after the other.’
‘Do you think he persuaded her to leave?’
‘Nobody knows but I bet that’s what happened. And to save face she called a meeting of all of us right here in this room the day before yesterday and announced she was retiring with immediate effect. I had to bite my tongue not to shout out “Hallelujah”.’
June couldn’t help it. A smile spread over her face. ‘You’re sure it’s not some joke?’ she said, suddenly anxious after a few seconds, trying to take it in.
‘No, it’s no joke. She was gone at noon yesterday without even a goodbye. And Mr Clarke wants you to telephone him as soon as you’re back. But before you do anything, eat your sandwich!’
June was almost glad she hadn’t been able to see Murray. How embarrassing it would have been to try to explain – try to convince him of her innocence when the finger pointed straight at her. How could she have convinced him she was only taking a nap on Chas’s bed and in her wildest imagination it had never occurred to her that Chas would take advantage of her vulnerability. She didn’t think she could go through it all again to Murray. And why should he listen? He’d obviously formed his own conclusions.
One moment she desperately wanted to talk to Iris, ask her what she should do, the next moment she wanted to curl up into a ball like Lizzie used to in the warmth of Bertie’s kitchen, and say nothing to anybody.
She found Iris watching her curiously, and once or twice her friend asked if she was all right. June told her Murray was in quite a state and she hadn’t stayed long on either occasion, and now he’d been moved back to Speke.
‘Well, at least he’s been able to speak to you in the hospital,’ Iris said cheerfully, when they were in the library that evening. ‘He’ll write when he’s got settled. At least he’s much nearer to us again.’ She gave June’s arm a little shake. ‘Come on, Junie, it’s not like you to be in the doldrums.’
‘He won’t write.’ June rounded on her friend. ‘He doesn’t want anything to do with me any more.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Iris’s blue eyes deepened with concern. ‘You said he was pleased to see you.’
‘I-I didn’t want to tell you the truth,’ June faltered. ‘I thought at first when he’d got over the shock of seeing me that he was pleased – it must be lonely for him day after day with no visitors. And he was even better the next day. Until the end – as we were leaving. And then he said … he said …’ She broke down, sobbing.
Iris jumped up from her chair and came to kneel beside June’s. She put her arms round her.
‘Junie, you must tell me. What did Murray say? It can’t be that bad that you can’t tell me.’
June looked up with weeping eyes. ‘He said perhaps we can talk about what happened. When I asked him what he meant, he said, “When you met Chas in London.”’ She looked at Iris. ‘How did he know about that?’ she said, desperation coating her words.
‘Chas must have told him,’ Iris said, patting her hand. ‘You know what men are like. Chas is American. They’re quite cocky. He probably did it on purpose to make Murray jealous.’
‘Well, he certainly succeeded,’ June said bitterly.
‘Why don’t you write Murray a letter?’ Iris suggested. ‘It will be easier to put it on paper, then you won’t have to see his reaction. He can take time to read it over and reflect on it. Maybe when he’s got time to think about it he’ll understand and believe you. And if he doesn’t, then you don’t want him anyway.’ June threw her a look of misery. ‘But he will believe you, because he’s a good chap, Junie. You two are meant to be together.’
June stared at her friend for a few moments, then crumpled back into her chair and cried as though her heart were breaking.
‘Junie, don’t.’ Iris was by her side in a flash again. ‘Honestly, everything will be all right. Murray is not like Chas. He’s decent and loyal and he loves you. You know he does, deep down in your heart. If he saw you like this he’d never forgive himself. And I’ll tell you something – he’s feeling much worse about you being tied to him with only sight in one eye and a permanently injured arm than about the Chas episode, which was a load of nonsense anyway. The problem is Murray himself. He doesn’t want your pity or you to spend your life looking after him.’
‘Do you really think so?’ June looked at her friend, tears still streaming down her face. It was something she hadn’t thought of. Could Iris really be right? And if her friend was, then why hadn’t June been able to see this for herself?
‘Of course I do.’ Iris took a handkerchief out of her apron. ‘I’m a nurse, aren’t I?’ June tried to smile. ‘Here, take this. Wipe your eyes like a good girl and tell me you’ll write to Murray this very evening.’
June dabbed her eyes, then blew her nose.
‘Junie?’
‘Yes, all right. Anything you say, Auntie Iris.’
Iris pretended to cuff her. ‘And don’t forget – tell him exactly what happened, and ask him to believe you – not forgive you. You’ve done nothing for him to forgive.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a misery when you must be bursting with excitement at being engaged to David.’
‘We’re not starry-eyed,’ Iris said matter-of-factly. I’m nearly twenty-six and he’s forty-three. It sounds old but it isn’t with him. He’s not a bit fuddy-duddy … and do you know what else?’ June shook her head. ‘You and I are going to have a discussion about Mozart and his operas one of these days.’ Iris threw back her head and roared with laughter. ‘Me. Can you imagine?’
‘Yes, I can,’ June said fervently. ‘I think it’s wonderful that he’s converted you. As I said, he’s exactly right for you – and forty-something is no age these days.’
Iris gave her a grateful smile. ‘Wish you could say that to Mum and Dad. Mum keeps saying he’s only a few years younger than Dad. But at least they’ve told me to bring him home when I get a chance.’ She grinned and waved her ring finger in front of her face, peering at it as though she still couldn’t quite believe it.
It was truly wonderful that Iris had found such happiness with someone who believed in her and loved her and wanted to make her his wife.
‘They’ll love him as soon as they see him,’ June said, genuinely smiling. ‘I’ve never asked you – does David have children?’
‘Yes, a son and a daughter. They’d both been offered a place at university but that’s all been scuppered for the moment. They’ve both gone into the navy. David’s so proud of them but he can’t bear the thought of bringing any more children into this crazy world.’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Not a bit.’ Iris laughed. ‘You know my opinion on that by now. I couldn’t bear having grizzling smelly babies to look after. But we’re going to sponsor Joachim with his music – act more like foster parents until we find out exactly what’s happened to his real family. David says he’s going to make that his mission, though it’ll be impossible until the war’s ended, no doubt.’
‘Have you said anything to
Joachim?’ June felt a warm glow steal over her heart. He was one of her ‘specials’.
‘Yes, he knows and he’s very happy. And he’s had a piece of marvellous news. He’s been accepted by the Royal Academy of Music in London. He starts in September.’
‘Oh, Iris, he must be absolutely thrilled. I turn my back for a few days and all sorts of things happen—’ She broke off.
‘Your turn will come, June Lavender,’ Iris said seriously. ‘Just you see if I’m not right.’
The young women were silent for a few moments, June lost in her thoughts of Murray and what she should say in the letter – that is, if she wrote it. She glanced across at her friend, who positively glowed. It made June smile.
‘Do you realise we’ve never toasted your engagement? And now you’re going to have a child to love.’
‘The best sort,’ Iris grinned. ‘A ready-made child. No dirty napkins, no wet bottoms, no sleepless nights – it’s perfect.’
‘So that’s two things we have to toast – and I don’t mean with a cup of tea, either.’
‘Get you, begging for alcohol,’ Iris teased. She jumped to her feet and put out her hand to pull June up. ‘There’s a bottle of wine in the pantry I’ve had my eye on – probably Matron’s, but that’s good. It’ll be decent. Let’s go and see if it’s still there. Bertie and the girls will have finished clearing up the kitchen. We’ll have a toast, even if it’s out of a teacup. And if they’re still there then they can help celebrate too.’
Later that evening in her room, feeling squiffy from the unexpected wine, which she still wasn’t used to, June sat at the small table under her window and got out her writing pad and pen. It was only when she wrote ‘22nd June’ that she realised today was her birthday. Her twenty-first. Supposed to be the important one. She brushed away the thought that it seemed like a bad omen that she’d forgotten her own birthday.
She stared at the blank sheet. Her head had begun to throb, gently at first, but now it was becoming more insistent. She hesitated. Maybe it was foolish to even try to explain. Maybe Murray would be more embarrassed to receive such a letter than she was feeling herself at this minute, wondering how even to begin.
