Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (28 page)

And now she realised she'd been wrong. She didn't fit in as a nurse, any more than she did running the estate. She was perfectly useless at everything. It was a joke to think she could ever be useful or needed.

Millie went through the gates of the estate, past the guards. But rather than heading for the Lodge she turned off the drive and walked up the narrow track that led through the parkland and up to the ridge above the airfield. It was her favourite ride, a place she loved to come when she needed peace and quiet to think.

Although being alone with her thoughts was quite possibly the last thing she really needed at that moment, Millie thought as she sat down on a mossy old tree stump. She was tired of hearing the voices in her head condemning her, telling her she was useless, that she didn't fit in.

‘You know, if you were a spy you'd have the perfect vantage point up here.'

She'd heard his footsteps approaching but didn't turn round until William stood behind her.

‘What are you doing here?' she asked.

‘Looking for you. I saw you walking up the road, and you seemed rather upset. Is everything all right?'

I do wish people would stop asking me that!' Tension made her snap. ‘I'm not completely helpless, you know!'

‘I didn't say you were.' William sounded hurt. ‘I'm sorry, I'll leave you in peace …'

‘Don't go.' Millie twisted round to look at him. ‘I'm sorry, I've had rather a bad day. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you.'

She pulled her packet of cigarettes out of her bag and went to light one, but her hand was shaking so much she couldn't hold the lighter steady.

‘Allow me.' William took out his own lighter and held it to the tip of her cigarette. Then he sat down next to her. ‘Care to tell me about it?' he asked.

Millie kept her gaze fixed on the airfield below her. ‘We had an injured airman in today. One of yours.'

William winced. ‘God yes, I heard what happened. Poor blighter. How is he?'

‘Not good.' Millie couldn't even begin to describe it. But every time she closed her eyes she saw those charred limbs and smelled that repugnant stench. It seemed to be on her hands, her clothes, every breath she took reeked of it.

‘I fainted,' she said.

‘Good God.'

‘I kept thinking about Seb, you see. Seeing that poor man … it made me wonder if that was what Seb looked like when they found him.' She took a nervous drag on her cigarette. ‘I've always tried not to picture him – you know, like that. But ever since I saw that poor man, I can't seem to get the picture out of my head.'

‘Millie—'

‘And then I keep thinking that he must have been in pain,' she carried on, the words falling over themselves to get out. ‘Silly, isn't it? Of course it was a horrible way to die, but I've comforted myself that perhaps he knew nothing about it, that at least it was quick …' She drummed restlessly on her knee with her fingers, too agitated to stay still. ‘But now I don't know, do I? Now I've seen how much the human body can endure and still go on living, it makes me afraid that perhaps Seb suffered too …'

‘Millie, don't. You can't torture yourself by thinking like that.' William's hand closed over hers, stilling her restless tapping.

‘I know, but I can't help it. That's why I fainted, you see. I tried to cope with it, but in the end I couldn't even look at him. So silly of me really.'

‘Not silly at all,' William said. ‘Anyone would have reacted in the same way.'

‘No, they wouldn't. Miss Wallace didn't flinch and neither did Grace. And she hasn't had any of my training.'

‘Yes, but they haven't been through what you have.'

‘That's not the point. The point is, I shouldn't have fallen to pieces like that. I'm supposed to be a professional nurse. I'm trained not to let this kind of situation get to me.'

‘You're also a human being,' he reminded her. ‘Don't be so hard on yourself.'

She heard what he was saying, but somehow couldn't allow herself to take in his words.

‘I shouldn't have run away,' she said. ‘I should have stayed strong, not let my feelings get in the way …'

‘Your compassion isn't weakness, Millie. It's one of the things that make you such a good nurse.'

‘But that man didn't need my compassion. He needed my skill and my care, and I was too weak and foolish to help him.'

‘That's because you were in shock. You'll do better next time.'

‘I don't think there's going to be a next time.'

Without thinking, she handed William her cigarette. He took a long drag on it.

‘You mean to say you're not going back?' he said.

‘I don't think Miss Wallace would want me anyway.'

‘Don't be absurd. Of course she wants you. You're an excellent nurse.'

She turned on him. ‘How can you say that, after what I've just told you? I'm a failure, and that's all there is to it.'

‘The only way you can fail is if you give up completely.' He handed the cigarette back to her. ‘Think about it, Mil. You made one mistake. Everyone makes them. The secret is not to allow them to get the better of you.'

She was silent, taking in what he'd said. ‘I would miss it,' she admitted.

‘And you would be missed, I'm sure.'

‘Do you think so?' She looked at him. ‘Do you really think I'm a good nurse?'

‘One of the best,' said William.

Their eyes met and she felt a sudden, alarming jolt of attraction, a treacherous feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. It suddenly occurred to Millie that they'd been sitting alone in the woods, sharing a cigarette and holding hands, almost like lovers. It would be too easy, she thought. Far, far too easy.

She stood up quickly, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘I'd better be going anyway,' she said, suddenly brisk. ‘Thank you for the pep talk.'

William looked up at her, and once again she found herself lost in his fathomless dark eyes. ‘That's what friends are for,' he said softly.

KIT WAS DRUNK.

The others had gone back to the base a long time ago, but he'd stayed after hours with the pub landlady. Not his usual type – she was thirty if she was a day, and hardly refined with her bleached blonde hair and dirty laugh – but she was up for some fun and that was what he needed. Especially after he'd wasted so much time on Effie O'Hara.

Oh, Effie. It was a pity, because he'd had such high hopes for her. She looked so wild and wanton, with that mane of dark curls. He'd seen a bit of naughtiness in those blue eyes, a reckless, impulsive side that he'd thought was like his own. But once it came down to business, she had turned out to be nothing more than a nice little convent girl, too terrified to let herself go. It was all very disappointing.

He paused for a moment, scanning the lane ahead of him. Was this the right way back to Billinghurst Manor? He was so bloody drunk, he had no idea. The only light was from the full moon high above him. A bomber's moon, as they called it.

Not that he was in any fit state to go up in a plane tonight! He laughed to himself as he weaved up the lane, crashing into bushes on either side.

Perhaps he should go back to the pub and ask to stay the night? He was sure the landlady would welcome him back into her bed. He struggled to remember the woman's name. Edna … Evelyn … No, it was gone. He couldn't remember anything except the way she'd writhed under him. Her husband was in the army and she missed the company, she said. That wasn't all she missed, he thought when she was wrapped around him up against the bar, urging him into her. He was looking forward to seeing her again. He wondered if he should book a hotel, perhaps the same B & B he'd taken Effie to. She'd be impressed by that, the silly little tart. But then again, why waste his money when he could get it for free anyway?

His thoughts strayed back to Effie. It was such a shame she'd let him down. He would have loved to see her naked, sprawled out on that double bed, her dark hair spread over the pillow …

There was a rustle in the trees to his left. Kit stopped to listen. Nothing. Probably just his imagination playing tricks on him. That or the copious amount of whisky he'd had.

Lord, he was drunk! He'd pay for it tomorrow, he thought. What a hangover he'd have!

Glenys … Gloria … No, he still couldn't remember her name. But what did it really matter?

He looked sharply to his left. There was the sound again. A fox, he thought, or rabbits. Except he'd never met a rabbit who wore heavy boots …

‘Who is it? Who's there?' He called out into the darkness. ‘Max, Harry is that you? Very funny, I'm sure. If you think you can scare me creeping about in the –'

He slammed straight into the figure that stepped out into the road in front of him.

‘Scare you?' a deep Irish voice said. ‘Oh, fella, I haven't even started.'

Kit straightened up and nearly fell off balance.

Connor towered over him. Outlined against the moonlight, he seemed even more dark and menacing. If Kit was sober, he might have had the sense to be scared, but the whisky lent him a bit of bravado.

‘Oh, it's you,' he said. ‘What do you want?'

‘A little bird told me you've been sniffing round the landlord's missus tonight?'

Kit grinned. ‘Watching me, were you? You really ought to find a girl of your own, then you wouldn't have to spy on me. Oh, wait, I forgot. She doesn't want you, does she?'

That got him. Kit couldn't see the look on Cleary's face, but his silence spoke volumes.

‘It isn't like that,' he bit out.

‘Oh, no, of course it isn't. You just want to protect her, don't you?' Then Kit recklessly added, ‘It's a shame. You don't know what you're missing …'

He didn't get to the end of his sentence before he felt himself lifted through the air. The next minute he was pinned to a tree trunk, his legs jerking uselessly, scrabbling to find the ground beneath his dangling feet.

‘I could kill you and bury you right here, and no one would know,' Connor growled.

He was mad enough to do it, too. Even in the pitch-blackness, Kit could hear the threat in his voice.

Connor's grip tightened and Kit reached up, trying to claw the Irishman's hands away from his crushed windpipe. ‘I don't think Effie would like that, do you?' he managed to gasp.

It worked. Connor released him abruptly. Kit stumbled to the ground, gulping in air.

‘What happened?' Connor demanded.

‘What?' Kit ran his finger around his collar to loosen it. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘You know. What happened – when you went away?'

It pained him even to say the words, Kit could tell. He smiled. So Effie hadn't told him the truth? This could be fun, he thought.

‘Wouldn't you like to know?' he taunted him.

‘That's why I'm asking you.'

Kit heard the ragged note in the Irishman's voice. It mattered so much to him, poor swine. Kit almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

‘Use your imagination,' he taunted. ‘Although I daresay you already have, haven't you? I expect he thought of me making love to her is probably haunting your dreams every night …'

Connor winced. ‘Don't push it,' he warned.

‘Or what? What will you do, old man? Use your fists? I can't imagine Effie would be impressed by that, can you? She'd probably hate you even more, if that were possible.'

‘Shut up,' Connor warned.

‘What's the matter? Bit too close to the truth for you?' Kit laughed. ‘It must kill you, to watch us together. Knowing you'll never have her.'

‘I don't want her.'

Kit laughed. ‘Now we both know that's not true. You watch her like a slavering dog. I'm surprised Effie hasn't realised it. But then, she's such an innocent, isn't she? Or she was,' he added, twisting the knife.

‘I want you to promise that you won't hurt her,' Connor said gruffly.

‘I don't think that's any of your business, do you?'

‘I care about her.'

‘Well, guess what? She doesn't care about you. Not a damn. And you can't make her care, even if you threaten me till Kingdom Come.' Kit circled him, enjoying his pain. ‘And do you know why she doesn't care? Because you're just an ignorant farmer's boy. Why do you think she ran away from Ireland, if not to get away from the likes of you?'

‘Don't.' Connor's voice was low and threatening.

‘I thought you wanted the truth?' Kit said. ‘All right, I'll give you it, shall I? What do you want to know first? Do you want me to tell you how soft her skin was, or how her hair smelled of lavender? Or do you want me to tell you how she moaned my name in ecstasy when I took her—'

The fist came hurtling out of nowhere. Kit felt his jaw crack and the next second he was flying backwards. He slammed into the ground and lay there, winded.

Connor towered over him. ‘Just don't hurt her,' he warned.

He strode off into the night, leaving Kit sprawled on the ground.

‘You bastard!' he roared with rage, but Connor was already gone. ‘I hope that made you feel better, because it's all you'll ever have,' Kit shouted after him. ‘I'm the one Effie wants, not you!'

He nursed his jaw. It was already beginning to swell.

Hatred for Connor consumed him. Ignorant, uneducated oaf! Kit should have struck back, knocked him flat.

But even as he thought it, he knew that he was no match for Connor. Not physically, at least.

He got to his feet. There was more than one way to hurt a man like Connor Cleary. And Kit knew just the way to get to him.

‘
HELLO, STRANGER. REMEMBER
me?' Pearl stuck her head round the back door. It was a Sunday afternoon, and Grace had the day off.