The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(64)
Pull yourself together, she muttered. Your job is to buck up and be ready for when Captain Cavendish is fit to leave. You’ll be no use to him or anyone else in this state. She forced herself to sit more upright, though her shoulders had begun to ache from the force of catching the falling child. Her mind was in turmoil. She hadn’t been prepared for the touch of the captain’s hand on her arm, still less the sensation of holding him as he valiantly tried to walk on his injured ankle. It was as if he was a different person – no longer the demanding taskmaster who required her to jump to his bidding, but a human being, one who was vulnerable and who had been prepared to risk his own life for that of a child he didn’t know. Also, a small voice said in her head, one who was very good looking. She didn’t know what she’d do if it turned out he was badly hurt. That blood could have come from a deep would caused by breaking glass, or a blow from falling debris, or—
‘Fawcett, there you are.’ His familiar form limped around the sergeant’s desk and sat down beside her. ‘Bearing up?’
Laura looked at him and gasped. He was wearing what must be a borrowed, ill-fitting shirt, and she could see a bandage had been applied underneath. ‘You’re injured, P … sir. Are you all right?’
‘Right enough,’ he said with a grimace. He took in her expression. ‘Yes, I admit, it’s not only the ankle that’s bothering me, but they’ve cleaned me up and I’ll be as good as new once I’ve had a proper night’s sleep. I’ve asked one of the police officers to telephone base and they’re sending another car and driver to fetch us.’
‘Really?’ Laura was surprised but delighted. She’d been dreading having to walk, and wondering how on earth the captain would manage.
‘Under the circumstances there was no quibbling,’ he assured her. He met her eyes directly. ‘I understand you disobeyed the policeman earlier, Fawcett, when he instructed you to accompany him to the ARP station.’
Laura gazed at the floor. Surely she wasn’t going to be in trouble for that? She’d completely forgotten that moment, but now he reminded her it was true. ‘Yes, sir.’
He waited until she looked up. ‘I’m damned glad you did, Fawcett. I’d have been a goner back there – and the baby too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Fawcett, and well done. That took guts to go back down the burning street when you could have got to safety.’ He seemed embarrassed, something she’d never have thought he could ever be. His eyes were a warm brown, somewhere between chestnut and honey. She couldn’t look away. ‘You might just have saved my life – and the baby’s – tonight. So yes, you are getting a ride back in the admiral’s limo. Even I couldn’t insist that you drive after an evening like this.’ His face creased with good humour and she found herself smiling back.
‘Glad to hear it, sir.’ She felt her old good spirits returning. ‘Not sure that my reversing would be up to its usual standard – I might have pulled a muscle in my shoulder somewhere. But if that’s all, then I’ve got off lightly.’ She grew serious. ‘Really, are you going to be all right? I … I saw the blood before. There wasn’t time to ask but I did wonder how deeply you’d been cut.’
He sighed, and doing so seemed to cause him pain, which he immediately tried to mask. ‘It was just some flying glass. I barely noticed at the time. But, put it this way, I shan’t be carrying any heavy weights for a while. Don’t make a fuss, Fawcett, it will heal perfectly, they’ve assured me.’
‘Very well, P … sir.’ She was relieved and didn’t know why.
His warm eyes flashed. ‘You called me Peter, back there.’
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Best not let it happen again.’
‘Of course not.’ She could feel the blush rise in her cheeks. So he had heard her shouting out to him.
‘Dreadful name. I’ve got a twin brother called Paul, which makes it worse. Don’t know what our parents were thinking of.’
‘Must have been tricky, sir.’ Laura couldn’t believe she was joking with the man she’d thought of as Captain Killjoy, while stuck in a dismal corner of an overcrowded police station, both of them stinking of smoke. She reflected she must be feeling better, as in her earlier state of shock she hadn’t even noticed such a detail. She took a final sip of her sweet tea, not wanting to waste it; she didn’t know when she’d have such a treat again. Then her hand went to her throat. Of course – the scarf had gone, she’d used it to keep the baby warm when his own little blanket caught fire. One more memento of Freddy lost. Still, it was to a good cause. She wouldn’t think about him now or she might break down and cry after all.
‘Something wrong, Fawcett?’ The captain leant closer, concern on his face, worry in his bright eyes.
Should she tell him? No, she couldn’t. He was a captain, and after tonight she would be back to being his driver, one of many, and there would be nothing between them but the usual back of the driver’s seat. She forced herself to smile. ‘No, sir. Just got a tea leaf stuck in my throat, that’s all.’ She held the smile confidently, knowing she’d put on a happy face ever since the terrible news about Freddy had come through. That would stand her in good stead – she could act the part of cheerful, competent Wren Fawcett now, and evade the searching look the captain was giving her. She had to convince him. She couldn’t trust him with her secrets; this moment of intimacy would not come again and she couldn’t bear to think of him barking orders at her and yet knowing about her poor missing brother. ‘I’m getting better by the minute, sir. I’ll be right as rain by the time we’re back at base.’ Her smile grew bigger, and she willed him to believe her.