The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(68)

‘Of course not.’ Marjorie glanced up at her friend. ‘Stupid me, I’d forgotten.’

Laura put down the fork she’d been playing with to hide her agitation. ‘Forgotten? Forgotten what?’

Marjorie shrugged. ‘Why, that he wouldn’t be going off to meetings in his condition, sending you all over the place and annoying you to pieces as usual.’

‘In his condition?’ Kitty echoed. ‘What condition?’

Marjorie gaped. ‘Don’t you know? It’s all over the language groups, so I thought someone would have told you, of all people.’

Laura stared at her. ‘No, nobody’s told me anything. What’s all over the language groups? What’s happened?’ She did her best not to sound over-anxious.

‘Well, that he was hurt in the fire, of course,’ said Marjorie. ‘You were there, you must have seen it all.’

‘I know he hurt his ankle, I told you about that,’ Laura said. ‘I even had to practically carry him along the street. You’ve never seen anything so funny, him so much taller than me. Thank God nobody we knew was there to watch it. And yes, he did have a cut, as there was blood on his shirt. He said they’d cleaned him up at the police station and there would be no problem.’

Marjorie pushed away her plate. ‘That’s not what people are saying now. I heard he’d been rushed to hospital, something about a wound being infected. He’s been really ill. I can’t believe you haven’t heard.’

Laura stared at her. So that was why she hadn’t seen him or been summoned to drive him anywhere. He hadn’t been avoiding her – he’d been in hospital. Her mind flashed back to that evening and the blood on the shirt and then the large, very obvious bandage he’d been wearing on the journey home. She should have guessed that was no flesh wound. ‘Is he in danger, do you know?’ she forced herself to ask.

Marjorie shrugged. ‘I don’t really know. You know what it’s like, the rumours spread like wildfire and they grow out of all proportion. The stories range from he’s being held in for bed rest, to he’s hanging on to life by a fingernail.’

Laura couldn’t stop her exclamation of distress. ‘But that’s terrible. He seemed so sure it would all be well when I last saw him. I’ve got to go to see for myself. I can’t believe nobody told me.’

‘Maybe they only told his family and his immediate team,’ Marjorie pointed out. ‘Just because you were there with him doesn’t mean they’d think of you. You know how it is: careless talk costs lives. If you were his girlfriend, I suppose they’d have said, but you were only his most regular driver, and as it doesn’t affect your work, they’d say there was no reason for you to know. I say, are you all right?’ She finally noticed that her friend was uncharacte?ristically silent.

Laura pulled herself together. ‘Yes, of course, totally. It was just a bit of a shock. Here was I thinking he hadn’t sent for me because I’d done something wrong, and all the while he was fighting for his life in hospital. After everything he’s been through – it doesn’t seem right.’ Inwardly she was screaming, but she wasn’t going to admit that, not even to Kitty and Marjorie.

‘If you want to go to see him, I’ll come with you,’ Kitty offered. ‘I don’t have any more shifts until tomorrow.’

‘Thank you,’ Laura said hurriedly. ‘I’d like that. Do you know where he is?’

‘I can find out,’ Marjorie said. ‘Don’t you have to be on duty this afternoon?’

‘I’ll tell them I had a relapse,’ said Laura. ‘How could they not tell me? When I was there right beside him? I damned well deserve some time off to check him for myself.’ Suddenly all her old energy returned. ‘Right. Let’s get going. I won’t rest until I see him for myself and find out just how bad he is.’





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


It was always disorienting to emerge from the bunker of Derby House into the daylight, Frank thought. No matter how many times he did it, the contrast in the light levels, the temperature, the sense of being released into the fresh air always hit him. Today the air was chilly, autumn beginning to set in, and as ever the atmosphere was full of dust from shattered buildings mixed with the sharp tang of the nearby river Mersey and the sea beyond. He could hear the cry of gulls overhead.

‘Thank you for that lecture, sir.’ One of the new recruits he’d been detailed to oversee walked up and fell into step with him. ‘It’s taken me ages to get the hang of co-ordinates. It’s good to have a refresher.’

Frank looked at her. She was in Wren uniform and was probably in her early twenties, and he couldn’t help noticing she had shiny black curls, tumbling in an unruly fashion from beneath her cap. He recognised her from the talk he’d given earlier that morning. She’d been sitting in the second row and his eye had been drawn to her then, he had to admit. Perhaps it was the curls.

‘Glad you found it of value … I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name. It’s always difficult in the larger groups,’ he said apologetically.

‘Hemsley, sir. Sylvia Hemsley.’ She smiled up at him and he could see she had bright-blue eyes and a smattering of freckles left over from the summer across the bridge of her turned-up nose.