Nightingales Under the Mistletoe (29 page)

She looked over from where she stood by the stove, melting chocolate in a pan. ‘Come off it, it's only been a couple of days since I last saw you!'

‘More like a week. Come to think of it, I hardly see you any more since you started working at that hospital. And I've got no one to have a laugh with at the WVS.'

‘Well, I'm here now, and the kettle's just boiled. You've got time for a cuppa?' Grace put down her wooden spoon and wiped her hands on her apron.

‘I was hoping you'd say that.' Pearl came in and sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Something smells nice. What are you baking?'

‘It's a birthday cake for Max. I've just taken it out of the oven.'

‘Max, eh?' Pearl raised her eyebrows.

‘I felt sorry for him,' Grace said. ‘It can't be nice, can it, being so far away from your family on your birthday? I'd like to think someone somewhere might look after our Albie on his.'

Pearl dipped the tip of her finger into the chocolate mixture on the stove. ‘This is nice. Is it for the icing?'

Grace nodded. ‘I wanted to make ordinary icing, but you can't get sugar for love nor money.' She poured the boiling water on to the leaves in the pot and gave it a stir.

‘I didn't think you could get chocolate, either?'

‘Max brought it for us. He seems to be able to lay his hands on anything through that PX store of his.'

‘Max is quite one of the family these days, isn't he?' Pearl remarked, sitting down at the table.

‘He comes round for his tea most nights.'

‘You shouldn't be such a good cook.'

Grace smiled. ‘It's Daisy he comes for, not my cooking. Anyway, I don't mind. He makes himself useful. He's fixed that leak in the roof we've had all winter, and he's done some other jobs.'

‘Handy to have a man about the house, eh?'

‘Isn't it?' Grace had never had anyone she could rely on before. For as long as she could remember she'd been the one up a ladder, painting or hammering or replacing loose roof tiles. She'd taught herself to do everything from decorating to plumbing, and she took pride in it. But it was a relief to be able to hand the toughest jobs over to someone else.

And it wasn't just that Max was useful around the house. He'd fitted right into the family, too. Walter and Ann adored him, and he was endlessly patient with them. Grace had become so used to having him around, she missed him on the nights he didn't call.

She poured out the tea, set a cup in front of Pearl and went back to her mixing. ‘Come on, then. What's the news?'

‘That's partly what I've come to tell you. They're having a Valentine's Day dance at the village hall, to raise funds for the prisoners-of-war. Mrs Huntley-Osborne's idea, of course.'

‘Of course,' Grace agreed. ‘She never stops, does she?'

‘Anyway, she wanted me to let you know she's put us both on the refreshments sub-committee.'

‘Has she now? Nice of her to ask me,' Grace said dryly.

‘Oh, you know Mrs Huntley-Osborne. She never asks, always tells.'

‘It'll make a nice change, I suppose. I expect Daisy will be pleased that there's a dance.' Grace went and fetched the cake from where it was cooling on the windowsill.

‘That smells like heaven,' Pearl said, breathing in the spicy aroma.

‘It's not much. I couldn't get hold of any mixed peel and there was hardly any sugar, so I don't know what it will taste like.'

‘You never know, you might be making a wedding cake soon,' Pearl commented. ‘For your Daisy and Max,' she said, when Grace looked blank.

‘Oh, I don't know about that …' She spooned the chocolate carefully on top of the cake, but for some reason her hand was shaking so much, she barely had time to catch it with the edge of her knife as it spilled down the sides.

‘Well, you never know, do you? If he's as keen as he seems … What's up?' Pearl asked with a frown. ‘Have I put my foot in it?'

‘Not at all,' Grace said. ‘It just came as a shock to think that our Daisy could be getting married. The kids are growing up so fast, I don't know where the time's gone.'

‘It can't go fast enough for me!' Pearl said with feeling. ‘I can't wait for my little beggars to grow up, so I can get them off my hands!'

‘I've looked after my lot for so long, I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' Grace admitted with a rueful smile.

‘You could find a nice young man and think about having kids of your own,' Pearl suggested. ‘I bet Daisy's airman could find a friend for you?'

Grace blushed. ‘Get away with you! Who'd look at me?'

‘Why not? You're a pretty girl, Grace Maynard. You just need to believe in yourself a bit more. It wouldn't hurt to get a bit of your sister's self-confidence.'

‘I'll ask her if she can spare any!' Grace laughed.

She thought about it later as they all sat around the table, tucking into Max's birthday spread. As well as the cake, she'd made jelly with mock cream, and cucumber sandwiches, liberally covered in salt and pepper to disguise the taste of the margarine.

Pearl was right, the children were all growing up. Even Ann was no longer a baby. She was only a couple of years younger than Grace was when she'd taken over looking after the family.

She turned to look at Daisy and Max. Was Pearl right about that, too? she wondered. Would they end up getting married? She tried to think about her little sister as a bride, being carried over the threshold in Max's strong arms, and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of sadness hit her.

‘Time for the cake,' Daisy said, breaking the spell.

‘I'll fetch a knife.' Grace blundered to her feet, glad of the chance to get away. The room had suddenly become stiflingly hot.

As she handed the knife to Max, their fingers brushed and a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Grace snatched her hand away and the knife clattered to the floor.

‘Honestly, Grace, what's the matter with you?' Daisy tutted. ‘You're as jumpy as a cat.'

‘Sorry.' She pulled herself together. It was a mad moment, that was all. Nothing more than that.

She stood at the back of the room, trying to gather herself, as Max went about cutting his cake.

‘Make a wish!' Walter and Ann shouted in unison.

Max's gaze sought out Grace at the back of the room. His eyes were quizzical, as if searching hers for the answer to an unspoken question. Grace could only stare back, struck dumb by an emotion she couldn't even name if she tried.

‘I already have,' he murmured.

‘
HAVE YOU HEARD
the news?' Daisy asked.

‘Of course I have,' Jess replied. ‘It was on the wireless last night. The Japanese have taken Singapore.' It was all anyone was talking about on the ward. ‘It's terrible, isn't it? All those poor people. I wonder what will happen to them?'

Daisy screwed up her nose. ‘Not that! They're having a dance in the village hall. What should I wear, do you think?'

Jess smiled to herself. Only Daisy Maynard could think her social life was more important than the progress of the war.

‘Nurse! Nurse!' They looked at one another.

‘Here she goes again,' Jess sighs.

‘Do you want to go, or shall I?' Daisy said.

‘It's my turn, I think.'

Mrs Flynn was sitting up in bed, propped against her pillows, with one of her favourite romance novels in her hand. She went through them voraciously. Her sister came to visit her twice a week, bringing yet more from the library.

‘When's the doctor coming, Nurse?' she asked.

‘Dr French isn't due to do his rounds until half-past ten, Mrs Flynn.' Jess fussed over her pillow. ‘Why? Are you in any pain?'

‘I might be … Yes, I think I've got a pain here.' She passed her hand over her flannel nightgown in the vague direction of her belly.

‘I see. Perhaps you just need a hot water bottle?'

‘No, I think I need to see the doctor,' Mrs Flynn declared firmly. ‘Maybe you should get Sister to telephone him?' she said.

No sooner had she said it than the doors flew open and Dr Drake came flying through, white coat flapping, his long nose buried in his notes as usual.

‘Well, that's a bit of luck, isn't it?' Jess smiled. ‘He must be here to check on another patient. I'll fetch him for you …'

‘No, don't.'

Jess frowned at her. ‘But I thought you were in pain?'

‘Yes, but I don't want to see that one. I want to see the other one. The nice one. The one who looks like Errol Flynn.'

Mrs Flynn spoke so loudly it would have been impossible for Dr Drake not to hear as he walked towards her. But he gave nothing away as he crossed the ward to talk to Sister Allen.

Poor Dr Drake, Jess thought.

‘So will you ask Sister to telephone Dr French?' Mrs Flynn looked at her hopefully.

Jess tightened her lips before she burst out with something she'd regret. ‘Let me fetch you that hot water bottle, and then we'll see how you are,' she muttered.

She went to the preparation room, where Daisy was putting together an ice cradle.

‘Honestly, that woman is the giddy limit!' Jess fumed.

‘Oh, dear, what's she done now?'

Daisy giggled when she heard the story. ‘Well, you can't blame her, can you? I must say, I'd rather have Dr French fussing over me than Dr Drake!'

‘Dr Drake is a good doctor,' Jess insisted.

‘Yes, but he isn't nearly as charming as Dr French, is he?'

Jess thought about New Year's Eve, when Dr French had refused to attend poor little Pamela Jarvis. She had no doubt the child would have died if it hadn't been for Dr Drake's skill. She knew who she would rather have treating her, and it wasn't suave Martin French.

‘Charm isn't everything,' she said. ‘Besides, there's nothing wrong with Mrs Flynn. I'm sure she wouldn't have her mysterious pain if she didn't eat toffees all day long!' She was fuming as she set about making the hot water bottle. ‘I wouldn't blame Dr Drake if he prescribed her a strong aperient. That would teach her a lesson!'

Daisy sent her a knowing look. ‘If you ask me, I think you've got a soft spot for our Dr Drake.'

‘Don't be daft,' Jess dismissed this. ‘I just feel sorry for him, that's all. Everyone prefers Dr French, and he doesn't deserve it.'

‘Dr Drake shouldn't be so stand-offish then, should he?'

‘He's just shy, that's all.'

Daisy laughed. ‘I was right! You do have a soft spot for him. I'll have to write to Sam, tell him to watch out. While the cat's away …'

‘Stop it,' Jess snapped. ‘I'm not interested in him like that. But I reckon people would like him just as much as Dr French if they gave him a chance.'

‘You should invite him to the dance then, if you feel like that?'

Jess knew Daisy meant it as a joke, but she said, ‘Why not?'

Daisy laughed nervously. ‘You're not serious? We wouldn't want a stuffed shirt like him hanging around. Besides, he'll only say no.'

‘How do you know, if no one ever asks him?'

Daisy stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Go on, then, ask him,' she said. ‘I dare you!'

‘All right, I will,' Jess replied. ‘If he's still there when I've finished making this hot water bottle, then yes, I will ask him.'

Of course, she didn't really think he would be. So she was horrified when she returned to the ward with Mrs Flynn's hot water bottle, only to find Dr Drake filling in a patient's notes.

‘Go on, then,' Daisy hissed behind her. ‘What are you waiting for?'

Jess thrust the hot water bottle into her hands. ‘Here, take this to Mrs Flynn,' she said.

Dr Drake didn't look up from the notes he was scribbling as Jess tiptoed towards him.

‘Yes, Nurse?' he enquired, head still bent.

Jess shot a quick look at Daisy. She must have told Mrs Flynn what was about to happen because they were both watching keenly. ‘I – um—'

‘Spit it out. What is it?' He finally looked up, his pale grey eyes fixed on hers. They were the colour of ice, thought Jess.

She took a deep breath. ‘There's a dance at the village hall on Friday,' she said. ‘I wondered if you'd like to come?'

The pale eyes narrowed to silver slits. ‘Is that supposed to be a joke?' he said coldly.

‘No! Honestly, I thought you might like to come.'

‘I suppose your friends put you up to this again?' he interrupted her, looking around. His gaze fell on Daisy and Mrs Flynn, giggling together. ‘Ah, yes, just as I thought. Well, I'm sorry, Nurse, but I'm far too busy for your pranks.'

‘But it wasn't a prank,' Jess tried to say. He was already striding off. He walked so quickly that he tripped over his own shoelaces. Jess winced as Daisy shrieked with laughter.

‘Oh, Jago, now do you see what a hopeless cause he is?' she said pityingly. ‘Give up on him, for goodness' sake!'

Jess stared at the double doors. Daisy was right, of course. It was none of her business. She didn't even know why she'd taken it upon herself to try to help him, when he clearly didn't want it.

Poor Dr Drake. It might be better if she stayed out of his life, thought Jess. Every time she tried to bring him out of his shell, she only seemed to drive him further back into it.

Grace sat at the kitchen table, watching Max through the window. He was in the back yard, chopping firewood.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. He had stripped down to his vest, and the muscles flexed under his golden skin as he swung the axe, bringing it down on the block with easy strength. Sweat had darkened his blond hair, plastering damp strands to his face.

He looked up and caught her staring. Grace glanced away sharply, back to the hearts she was cutting from newspaper.