Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (19 page)

‘It's cheaper than I could make it at home,' she said. ‘And there's plenty of it too. Not like the horrible little bits of meat we get on the ration.'

‘I wish I could have taken you somewhere fancier,' Max said.

‘Oh, this is fancy enough for Grace!' Daisy put in, laughing. ‘She never goes out, do you, Gracie?'

Grace felt herself blush. It was the truth, but she still felt embarrassed.

Throughout the meal, Walter kept Max occupied with endless questions about his training, and the planes he'd flown, and whether he liked the new Halifax design, or preferred the Stirling.

Max was very patient with him, explaining the pros and cons of the various craft, and the intricacies of mine-laying expeditions. Grace watched her younger brother's rapt face and was glad he had another man to talk to. He missed his older brother Albie now he was away fighting.

But Daisy didn't seem to feel the same. ‘Honestly, can't you shut up for a minute?' she snapped at Walter. ‘You've been going on at poor Max for hours.'

‘I don't mind,' Max started to say, but Daisy cut him off.

‘That's not the point,' she said sulkily. ‘The rest of us can't get a word in edgeways.'

Grace couldn't help feeling the remark had been aimed at her, too. She wasn't sure why, when she was just being polite.

After the meal, Max took them all home in the jeep and dropped them at their front door.

‘Thank you for a lovely day, Miss Maynard,' he said.

‘You can call me Grace, if you like?' She smiled. ‘And really, we should be thanking you for going to all that trouble for us.'

‘I enjoyed it. It was good to have some civilised company.'

‘That's the first time I've ever heard Walter called civilised!' Grace laughed. She held out her hand for Max to shake. ‘You'll have to come back and have a proper dinner with us another time,' she said.

‘I'll look forward to it.' Max's grip was firm and warm, his aquamarine eyes meeting hers directly.

As he shook her hand, Walter suddenly gave a shout of laughter. ‘Look what you're standing under!' he said.

Grace looked up. There, hanging above the front door, was a sprig of mistletoe.

‘How did that get there?' she said.

‘I put it up,' Daisy muttered.

‘You'll have to give Gracie a kiss!' Walter called out. 
‘Shut up, Walter!' Daisy hissed, glaring at him.

Grace let go of Max's hand and stepped away. ‘I think you've got the wrong sister,' she said, forcing a laugh.

Max's face was serious. ‘I guess I have,' he murmured.

‘
HAVE YOU QUITE
taken leave of your senses, Amelia?'

Lady Rettingham sat back in her chair and regarded her granddaughter, her expression aghast. Millie sat opposite her, hands locked together, determined to stay calm.

‘I'm quite sane, thank you, Granny,' she replied evenly.

‘Are you? I very much doubt it, since you've come up with such an absurd notion.' Lady Rettingham's mouth pursed in disapproval. ‘Really, child, I do wish you would forget this obsession you have with being Florence Nightingale. It's most tiresome. I thought you'd finished with all this nonsense years ago?'

‘So did I. But things change, don't they?'

Millie's life had certainly changed, that was for sure. A year or even a month ago, she would never have dared suggest such an idea to her grandmother. But now …

‘And what makes you think they'd even want someone like you?' Lady Rettingham tried a different tack.

‘They're crying out for nurses, Granny. So many have joined up, there aren't enough to go round.'

‘I see. You've clearly looked into this, haven't you?'

Millie had been thinking about little else for three days, all over Christmas. Ever since her visit to the hospital on Christmas Eve, and her conversation with William, the idea had been taking root and growing in her mind. And the more she thought about it, the more perfect it seemed.

But not to her grandmother.

‘And who is going to run the estate, if you're off being a nurse?' Lady Rettingham asked.

‘Mr Rodgers, of course. He's been running the estate perfectly well since Father died anyway.'

‘Yes, but he still needs guidance from you.'

‘Why?' Millie said. ‘As you've told me on several occasions, the estate is far better run by a man.'

She wondered if she'd gone too far when she saw her grandmother's lips turn white. ‘Yes, but Mr Rodgers isn't family, is he? And what about Henry?' she changed the subject again. ‘Have you thought about what this might do to him?'

‘I don't know what you mean?'

‘You're going to be bringing all kinds of terrible diseases into the house, aren't you? What if Henry catches dysentery or diphtheria? What will you do then?'

‘He won't, Granny!' The idea was so absurd Millie couldn't help smiling.

Her grandmother stiffened, back straightening even more. ‘I'm glad you find this so amusing, Amelia.' She shook her head. ‘No, I can't agree to it. You are the mother of the heir to Billinghurst, and your place is here, looking after your son's birthright, not running about emptying strangers' bedpans.' She shuddered delicately at the thought. ‘I'm sorry, but you must forget all about this ridiculous notion.'

She started to rise from her chair, as if that was an end to the matter. Millie stared into the dying flames of the fire.

‘No, Granny, I won't forget it,' she said quietly.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘I know you've never approved of my nursing, but it was something I loved,' Millie said. She went on staring into the fire, unable to meet her grandmother's stern gaze. ‘When I was working at the hospital, for the first time I felt as if I had a purpose in my life. I wasn't just Lady Amelia, a silly debutante waiting to marry well. I was actually doing something useful, helping people.'

Her grandmother froze, still standing over her. Millie wasn't sure if she was listening, but at least she hadn't walked away.

‘I just want to feel that way again,' she said. ‘I know everyone says I have a purpose now, running the estate and doing charity work. But I'm really just dabbling, playing at doing something worthwhile when everyone knows I'm just silly Lady Amelia again.' She steeled herself to look up at her grandmother. ‘I want to feel as if I'm really making a difference. Is that such an absurd notion?'

Her grandmother was silent for a long time, her expression unreadable.

‘And I suppose if I say no, you'll do it anyway?' Lady Rettingham said shortly.

Millie dropped her gaze again. ‘I telephoned my old matron Miss Fox this morning. She'd like me to start next week.'

‘I see.' Her grandmother was tight-lipped. ‘Well, I don't know why we're even discussing it, since it's clearly all done and dusted.'

‘Because I want your approval,' Millie said. ‘I want you to tell me you're happy for me.'

Her grandmother was silent for a long time. ‘Then there is nothing more to be said, is there?' she snapped.

‘Come with me. I want to show you something.'

Kit took Effie's hand and started to lead her off the dance floor, but she hung back. The band had just started playing an Andrews Sisters song, one of her favourites. ‘Can't we just dance to this one, please?' she begged.

Kit laughed. ‘You've danced to every song so far!'

‘I know. Isn't it wonderful?' She had barely left the floor for hours, and was breathless with all the whirling and spinning. But she was having the time of her life.

And to think she'd imagined that life in Billinghurst would be dull! Ever since the RAF had arrived, it had been one long round of nights out, trips to the pictures, going out to dinner and now to a Christmas party in the Officers' Mess.

And of course there was Kit. Effie had never imagined she would find someone as handsome, witty and worldly wise as he was. No wonder she was head over heels in love with him.

He tugged on her hand. ‘Are you coming, or not?'

‘Where are we going?'

‘You'll see.'

Effie saw the challenging look in his eyes. For all she adored him, she wasn't sure how wise it was to go out into the night with Kit. She was all for a bit of kissing and canoodling, but he could be quite passionate when they were on their own, and Effie had struggled to keep him at bay.

‘I promised not to leave Daisy …' She looked across the dance floor at her friend, who was spinning around in the arms of a handsome pilot officer.

‘She'll be all right,' Kit said. ‘She probably won't even notice you're gone. She's too busy trying to make Max jealous.' He grinned.

Effie looked again at Daisy. Kit was right, she did keep glancing over at Max. But he was laughing about something with his friend Harry and hardly seemed to notice.

She followed Kit out into the cold night air, and down the steps. ‘Where are we going?' she asked.

‘It's a secret. Close your eyes.'

‘Kit …'

He put his hands over her eyes.

‘Trust me,' he said softly.

She felt herself being guided away from the house. At some point they turned off the drive, and the crunch of damp gravel under her feet gave way to soft wet grass that brushed against her legs. Behind her, the sounds of the dance receded until all she could hear was the wind whispering through the trees and the eerie hoot of an owl.

She started to panic. ‘Kit, I don't like it,' she said. ‘Let me see …'

Almost immediately he released her and she blinked. He might as well have kept his hands over her eyes because she could see nothing in the dense, cold blackness.

‘Where are we?' she asked.

‘Do you like it? It's a little private spot I found this morning while I was taking a walk around the grounds,' Kit sounded pleased with himself. ‘It's our own personal hideaway, somewhere we can be alone together.' He smiled, and his teeth flashed white and wolfish in the darkness.

Effie was instantly wary. ‘I want to go back inside.' She shivered. ‘It's too cold.'

‘I'll soon warm you up, darling.'

His arms went round her, crushing her to him his mouth closed on hers, greedy and plundering. At the same time, his hand came up to cup her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. Effie pushed him away.

‘Kit, don't. I want to go back inside, this wet grass is ruining my shoes … I said, don't!' She slapped his hand away.

He broke away from her, looking hurt. ‘What's the matter? Don't you love me?'

‘You know I do.'

‘Then why don't you prove it?' He started to nuzzle her neck, gently nibbling away at her earlobe. This was much nicer than the rough ravishing he usually tried, and Effie felt a warm sensation uncurling in the pit of her belly.

‘You see, you like it, don't you?' he coaxed her, his voice husky with desire. He kissed her again, his tongue insinuating itself into her mouth, almost choking her. Effie turned her head away sharply.

‘Kit, don't—'

And then, suddenly, a voice came out of the darkness.

‘You heard the girl. Leave her alone!'

THE NEXT THING
she knew, Kit was lying flat on his back in the long grass.

‘Kit!' Effie dropped to her knees beside him, damp seeping through her skirt, as a figure separated itself from the shadows and loomed over her.

‘Leave him,' he said curtly. ‘It serves the eejit right for bothering you.'

The sound of his voice was like an electric shock, bringing her back to her feet. ‘Connor?' she whispered.

‘Hello, Euphemia.' She couldn't see his face in the darkness, but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

Kit groaned, and Effie bent to help him to his feet.

‘How did you find me?' she asked.

‘I went to the hospital in London and asked. You're not that hard to find, you know.'

Now her eyes were getting used to the dark, she could make out the tall, broad-shouldered figure, a mane of dark curls framing his rugged features.

‘I suppose Mammy sent you?' she said.

‘She didn't send me, I offered to come. You didn't answer her letter. She was worried sick about you.'

Kit, who had been brushing himself down, now stepped in. ‘Who is this person, Effie?'

She glanced at Connor. He stared back at her expectantly. The moon appeared from behind a cloud, casting cold light on the planes and angles of his face.

‘His name's Connor Cleary. He's –' she searched for the rights words ‘– someone I knew in Ireland.'

She saw Connor's lip curl at the introduction, but he said nothing.

Kit squared up to him. ‘Well, Mr Cleary, you can jolly well get lost!'

Connor didn't move a muscle. Only a slight hitch of his eyebrow showed he'd heard what was being said to him.

‘Did you hear me?' Kit took a step closer.

Connor looked at Effie. ‘Is this why you ran away from Ireland?' he said pityingly, nodding towards Kit. ‘Is this really the best you can do?'

Incensed, Kit took a swing at him. Without even looking at him, Connor's hand flashed out and grabbed Kit's arm, pinning it effortlessly behind his back.

‘I've got no argument with you, friend,' he growled. ‘Just stay out of this, all right?'

‘I'm not your friend – ow!' Kit yelped in pain as Connor twisted his arm further up his back.

‘Leave him alone!' Effie shouted.

Connor paused for a second, Kit dangling uselessly at the end of his arm. He released him with a shove. Kit staggered a few steps then found his feet, massaging his shoulder where Connor had twisted it.

‘Are you all right?' Effie hurried over to him. ‘Let me see—' She tried to examine Kit's arm but he shrugged her off irritably.