The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(61)
Kitty shrugged. ‘I’m sorry but he really doesn’t seem so bad. Pretty handsome, in fact. Look on the bright side – he could be one of those grizzled old chaps. You must be doing something right if you’re in such high demand, so serve you right for being good at reversing into small spaces. Anyway, you’d better be off. Wear something warm, the evenings are getting chilly.’
She shivered for effect, but she felt deliciously warm inside. Elliott’s latest letter had said he was planning to come to London again towards the end of October, and he would love to introduce her to his parents. They were so keen to meet the woman who had stolen his heart and brought joy to his life after the death of his fiancée. Kitty had held out all summer when he’d suggested it, fearing it was still too soon, but now she knew how he felt about her, she was ready to take the next step. It filled her with trepidation and yet she was excited too. She wasn’t afraid of making a fool of herself any more, or that they would look down on her for not being out of society’s top drawer. Now she was confident she could hold her own, as the valuable work she was training to do placed her at the centre of the war effort, and she knew she was as good as anybody else. All right, some people still saw things differently, imagining they were superior and automatically worthy of deference from the likes of her, but she was sure Elliott’s parents would not be like that. They couldn’t be, having produced somebody as kind and generously supportive as he was.
‘Marvellous,’ snapped Laura, rooting around in her drawer before pulling out a scarf. ‘This should do it. It’s not regulation, but he can’t seriously expect me to freeze to death while he’s out saving the nation single-handedly once again. Do you like it? It was a present from Freddy actually.’
Kitty started; it had been ages since Laura had mentioned her missing brother. She’d never let her guard down since that day many months ago, although Kitty was aware that the sorrow was never far away, bubbling beneath Laura’s bright surface. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, gazing at the length of green-and-cream fabric. ‘Is that cashmere?’
‘Certainly is,’ Laura replied, jauntily wrapping it around her neck. ‘Let’s see if the captain dares complain about it.’ She pulled on her uniform jacket. ‘Rightio, best be off. Don’t wait up.’
‘Hope he doesn’t keep you out too late,’ Kitty said, meaning it, and yet perversely glad that she would have an evening alone in which to reply to Elliott. She’d tell him how much she looked forward to meeting his family, in the full knowledge of how much that would mean to him.
Laura fumed silently as she expertly guided the captain’s car through the nearly empty streets, accustomed as she was by now to driving in the blackout. She was surprised there weren’t more incidents. When the blackout had first been imposed, more people had died in accidents than in enemy attacks. Now most people avoided travelling around if they could do so. That was all very well for those who had the option, but she couldn’t exactly say no when faced with a direct order. At least Captain Cavendish hadn’t commented directly on her non-uniform scarf, which was still wrapped very deliberately around her neck, and a fine job it was doing of keeping her warm too. He’d raised his eyes when he first saw it, but then just barked, ‘Reform Club, Fawcett,’ and made no further remarks as she’d taken him to Pall Mall.
She was quietly furious. So he was off on some social jaunt to meet a stuffy old friend, probably someone as supercilious as he was. Reluctantly she conceded that Kitty and Marjorie might have a point, he was actually pretty good looking, but that was of small comfort to her as she had been stuck outside the club in the cold and dark, while he no doubt enjoyed himself inside – if he was capable of doing anything so frivolous. He’d kept her waiting for half an hour and then had emerged, shaking hands with someone she could tell – even from a distance and in the brief glimpse of light from the open doorway – was in the uniform of a very high-ranking naval officer indeed.
He’d offered no explanations when he’d got into the back seat, but she thought she detected a change in his expression, from anxious – although he’d tried hard to hide it – to satisfied. ‘Return to where we started, sir?’ she’d queried and, instead of biting her head off for stating the obvious, he’d simply nodded and said, ‘Much as I’d love to think the world was our oyster, Fawcett, pressure of work dictates that you convey me to my billet as swiftly as possible. Within safe limits, naturally.’
‘Very well, sir,’ Laura had said, thinking this was as close to skittish as she’d heard him. She caught his eye in the rear-view mirror, registering that he looked positively light-hearted, but looked away as his eye caught hers – and held it for a touch longer than she felt comfortable with. Was that the beginning of a smile on his lips? Whoever the gold-braid-covered superior officer had been, he’d put the usually curt captain in an uncharacte?ristically good mood. She briefly wondered which way to go, and then decided to head through the residential back streets of Camden, as direct a route as she could follow back to the northern reaches of the capital. She zigzagged neatly through the deserted roads while the captain retreated into his usual taciturn silence.
Some fifteen minutes later she was privately congratulating herself on a good job when the dull beam of a shaded torch waved at her and she realised somebody was flagging her down. She wound down the window and looked up at the shadowy figure, his armband marking him out as an ARP warden. ‘Can’t go down there, miss,’ he said. ‘The UXB boys are seeing to a little present Jerry left behind. Best to double back on yourself and keep a wide berth.’ His voice was calm but she could tell he was deadly serious. She shivered involuntarily. Those service personnel who dealt with unexploded bombs had the shortest life expectancy of anyone in uniform, fighter pilots included, and faced the prospect of death at every call-out. She shifted the gear stick into reverse and began to back into the narrow mouth of an alley to turn around.