Winter on the Mersey(33)
Laura uncurled and faced him, then stood and took his hand. ‘We could, couldn’t we?’ She tipped up her face towards him and he leant down and kissed her, gently at first and then more emphatically, as they moved together towards the open door.
‘What do you fancy doing at the weekend, then, Sylvia?’ Frank caught up with her as she came down the underground corridor in Derby House. ‘You’ve got both days off, haven’t you?’
Sylvia paused on her way back to her desk, her arms full of brown files. ‘Clever you to have checked,’ she said, grinning up at him. The late spring sunshine had brought out a smattering of freckles on her nose. ‘Yes, but the thing is …’ She paused, knowing he would be disappointed with her news. ‘The thing is, I thought I’d try to go back to see my parents again.’
Frank swallowed. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear. ‘Oh?’ he said, hoping he didn’t sound too put out. ‘Well, if that’s what you want …’
‘It’s not that,’ Sylvia hurried to assure him. ‘Not quite like that, any road. Of course I love going to see them, but you see, the thing is, Dad’s not been well. Mum wrote to tell me, and of course I can’t let him see that I know or he’d be horrified I’ve given up a weekend to go all that way, but I have to go all the same.’
Frank breathed out. ‘Of course you do. Yes, I’m sure you’re right. You don’t have to say anything about why you’re there; just turning up will do the trick. Otherwise you’ll worry, won’t you?’ His eyes crinkled into a warm smile. That was typical Sylvia – running to help where she could. His own disappointment was nothing compared to the anxiety she must be feeling about a sick parent, and not being close enough to just hop on a bus and go to see how they were. His heart went out to her.
Sylvia nodded. ‘That’s it. Oh, Frank, I knew you’d understand. I’d love to spend the weekend with you, of course I would, but I have to go to see how bad he is. And Mum will need my help. It’s at times like this that I realise how cut off they are, all the way up there in the Lakes, and she might want me to sit with him while she goes out or send me on errands, or whatever needs to be done. Or I might get there and he’ll be right as rain again – I just don’t know.’ Her lip trembled, and she bit it to stop it giving away how worried she was.
Frank could tell, though, and he briefly put a hand on her arm to comfort her. They were always very careful not to flaunt their relationship at work, as it was a tight team and in a confined space, and it didn’t do to act unprofessionally. But he wanted to show her he knew how she must be feeling. ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ he assured her. ‘With any luck you’ll get back there and he’ll be striding around whistling for his sheepdog and heading out on to the hills. Then you and your mother can have a good laugh and she’ll feed you up good and proper. You see if I’m not right.’
‘Oh, I bet you are,’ she said in relief. ‘That’s just how it’ll be. But if I don’t see how he is for myself … well, Mum wouldn’t have written unless it was serious, as she wouldn’t want to worry me, so … I’m going to go.’
‘Of course you are. I’d expect nothing less of you.’ He withdrew his arm. ‘And sorry, here am I holding you up when you’ve got all that work to do. You go, give them my best wishes, and we’ll go out to the Phil another time.’
‘I’d love that.’ The Philharmonic Dining Rooms was where they’d had their first proper date, and it had remained one of their favourite pubs, despite it being slightly out of their way. The sumptuous art-deco interior always lifted their spirits, even if the route there was full of bomb-damaged buildings. ‘I’ll hold you to that, Frank Feeny.’
‘I’ll make sure you do,’ he said mischievously as he watched her hurry back down the corridor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nancy caught sight of herself in the mirror hanging on the wall of the quiet pub and thought that she looked all right, or as good as she was likely to manage these days. She was pleased. She’d wanted to appear as glamorous and attractive as she could for Gary, who was treating her to a romantic meal. Her hair shone, she’d used some of her precious reserves of proper make-up, and even her nails were freshly painted with deep red varnish. She felt she should pull out all the stops and show him British women were as good as anyone he might have known on the other side of the Atlantic. Not that he’d ever mentioned having anyone special on the other side of the pond.
She was only too aware that plenty of people resented the American servicemen, and complained they were ‘overpaid, oversexed and over here’, angry that they had more money to spend and better access to luxury goods than the boys from home. They were never short of female company for those very reasons, but Nancy wasn’t with Gary because of that. Yes, it was nice to have someone who could treat her to drinks and entertainment that others couldn’t, or who gave her little gifts that she couldn’t have hoped to have otherwise. But the real reason she liked being with him was that he was such a gentleman. Some people said all the Yanks were brash and boastful, but she knew Gary wasn’t like that at all.
He made his way back to her, carrying their drinks and smiling broadly. She noted how mature he looked compared to anyone else she’d ever been out with; it was another mark in his favour. She was tired of young men who – when it came down to it – were little more than boys, always thinking of themselves and not treating her right. Gary was a proper man and not afraid of the fact. He was confident in who he was – he didn’t have to put on a show.