Читать книгу Bloody Awful - Georgia Evans - Страница 11

Andrew had the best spot in the house, or rather the cellar: a battered sofa tucked in one corner. He pretty much preempted it, saying she needed to keep her leg propped up, air raid or not. It wasn’t a lie but Gloria stifled a twinge of guilt as she reclined on the dusty cushions and everyone else sat on upturned tea chests, rickety old chairs or the floor.

The light from the low wattage bulbs was no use for reading, as one customer realized as he gave up on his newspaper and folded it to sit on. There was nothing to do but wait. For whatever was or was not going to happen. The group of young officers who’d been propping up the bar now hunkered down to one side and started a game of cards. Seemed Gloria’s best course of action was to lean back against Andrew and hope it was all a false alarm and they’d be upstairs again in no time, and she could finish her soup.

It wasn’t a false alarm.

After the seemingly endless drone of planes overhead and ack ack fire, there was comparative silence. The only immediate sounds were whispered conversations among the hotel staff clustered and the odd exclamation from the card players.

“Think that’s it?” Gloria asked Andrew.

“Could be. Who knows? Best wait for the all clear.”

Seemed it was going to be some wait. No one moved. Nothing happened. Apart from the arrival of an air raid warden checking gas masks.

“You know I could fine you both for not having them,” he said.

“Sorry,” Gloria said, before Andrew could reply. “I know we should have brought them, but I left mine at home. I always keep it with my nurse’s uniform…” Better drop that in. “…and forgot it tonight. My mind was taken up with crutches and how I was getting around.”

“Nurse are you then?”

“I’m the district nurse based in Brytewood.” That should be worth something, darn it. Most people had more to do than make a fuss about gas masks. Although she’d nagged her share of school children for leaving theirs in the playground.

“Well, nurse, you know better, but…let’s hope you don’t need it tonight.”

Didn’t everyone share that hope? Gloria smiled at him. “Let’s hope they’re just flying over.” Although that meant London would be getting it.

“Time will tell. They came over a couple of nights ago. Dropped half a dozen bombs, that was all, but they caused a bit of trouble.” He moved on to chat with the soldiers.

“He didn’t even ask about yours,” Gloria said to Andrew. “Just picked on me,” she added with a little dig in his ribs.

“Good thing too. He wouldn’t fine a nurse but I mightn’t have been let off so lightly.”

“Your work is important.”

“But since I can’t tell anyone what it is, not much of an alibi.”

“Everyone in the village knows, or has guessed. Especially after the trouble back in September.” When she’d raised the alarm. Not exactly easy since she’d been in her fox skin at the time.

His chest moved, as if he held in a laugh. “That’s still an official secret.”

“I won’t tell. I promise.”

“I know,” he whispered it, his lips almost touching her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Wouldn’t be here with you otherwise, Gloria.”

“We wouldn’t be down here at all if it weren’t for the damn Luftwaffe.”

As if on cue, another flight passed overhead. More this time. Suddenly feeling hideously vulnerable, Gloria clutched Andrew’s arm, now handily wrapped across her chest. His free hand stroked the back of her neck. “Hang on, old girl,” he whispered “This building’s lasted centuries, you don’t think it’s going to crumble for the Jerries, do you?”

She hoped to heaven not. She tamped down the fox stirring inside. Stifled the instinct to run from danger. It was ten days to full moon, she didn’t need to change, couldn’t anyway with her leg in a cast but wanted to. She longed to shuck her human face and run free, away from this hotel and the town for the safety of the woods.

Which weren’t safe in the least. Nowhere was.

Andrew’s lips brushed the back of her neck.

She hoped no one else heard her sigh. They were in a public place after all. She ought to move. Get up and go somewhere else.

But where else did she want to be right now but caught in his arms?

She leaned closer, resting her head against his chest. In the uneasy quiet, she could hear his steady, human heart beat. She was utterly loony. Accepting his invitation was stupid, snuggling up to him like this, insane. But who had time for sanity as another flight of bombers approached?

“Andrew,” she whispered, kissing his wrist. It was his closest bit of skin.

“Scared?” he asked.

“Scared witless,” she replied, the sound of antiaircraft guns all but drowning her words.

“Nah!” His arm held her a little tighter. “You’ll always have your wits about you, Nurse Prewitt. It’s not the first time either of us has sat through this, won’t be the last.”

She was beginning to wonder. Planes droned overhead in waves. “Poor London is going to get it bad.” If it wasn’t already. How long did it take to fly from here to London? It had been a good thirty minutes since the first wave passed overhead. “Maybe we’re going to be lucky tonight.” Unfortunately “lucky” here meant someone else was disastrously unlucky.

“I’m lucky just being here with you,” he said.

She smiled. Couldn’t help it. It shouldn’t feel this fantastic just sitting close to him, feeling his warmth and solid strength. That wasn’t all she was feeling. He was unmistakably aroused. Blush burned her face. She’d done this. It wasn’t exactly her fault, she told herself, but she was having a definite effect on Andrew Barron.

“Doing alright?” he asked quietly.

“If I have to be stuck in a hotel cellar, waiting for bombs to drop, I’m glad I’m here with you.”

His laugh, a peal of sheer delight, got them quite a bit of attention. Just as well the light was so poor they couldn’t see how red her face was. “Sorry,” Andrew said, to the world at large. “I just realized, I think I’m in love.”

Talk about dropping clangors. What was she supposed to say to that?

Not much it seemed.

“Good luck!” someone called and one of the card playing officers let out a wolf whistle.

“You do pick your moment, don’t you, young man?” a woman said.

The general hilarity went right over Gloria’s head. She was too busy worrying what she was going to do about it. If he was falling in love, having the brief fling Alice advocated seemed a downright rotten thing to do. But now was hardly the time to break up with him. Break up? They’d barely started.

Her stomach rumbled, a reminder of their interrupted dinner and the first bomb dropped. As if pulled by a string, everyone looked up to the rafters.

“He’s a long way off,” a male voice said, only to be drowned out by one much closer and louder.

Gloria clung to Andrew. Damn her conflicted feelings. Right now he was what she needed, his closeness, his strength, his presence.

“Can’t last all night,” he said. A third one fell. Much closer. Then a series of explosions that shook the building. A woman screamed. A voice calmed her. Andrew’s arm tightened around Gloria.

“Sorry I got you into this,” he said,

“Don’t be silly. This could just as easily be happening in Brytewood.” Most likely was happening in Brytewood. “I hope everyone there’s alright.” Gloria shut her eyes. It was impossible not to think back to the awful night the vicarage was hit. Mind you, that had worked out very well for Alice and Peter. Maybe she and Andrew…

No! She was not even entertaining the idea. Alice didn’t turn furry on moonlit nights. Alice’s life was simple and straightforward. She didn’t have a deep earthy secret she hid from the world. She and…

Andrew kissed her!

In front of all these people he kissed her. Not a wild, passionate kiss. Maybe no one else even noticed. It was a “don’t worry, I’m here” sort of kiss. Just a brush of his lips on hers.

Then why did she feel it deep inside? Why was her body softening against his while her nipples went hard? “Andrew,” she said, for want of anything more intelligent or thoughtful.

“We’ll be out of here soon,” he promised. “They can’t keep this up forever.”

Only all night if they felt like it.

“Wish old Jerry would just drop the lot and go home!” a voice called across the cellar.

As if on cue, there was another explosion, two of them, close enough to shake the building. Amid the crashes and noise overhead, Gloria wasn’t sure if she grabbed Andrew or Andrew grabbed her. Hardly mattered as she shut her eyes and clung to him as they both waited for another explosion.

Which never came. Just aircraft noise overhead until that too faded or was drowned out by sirens and shouts outside. Seemed an age before they gave the all clear. Alice waited as the others stood and left. She was safe, alive and had no wish to be carried upstairs, or give everyone one a demonstration of how to haul yourself upstairs using your arms.

By the time Andrew and she emerged, most of the others had dispersed. No one seemed to want to finish dinner. At least no one apart from Gloria. She was suddenly and ravenously hungry but they probably should go out and look at the damage.

The smells of cordite and brick dust filled the air. Glass panes, still with the brown tape attached, lay shattered on the pavement. Strange how bright the night was, almost as if…

“Stone the crows!” a voice said. “Someone won’t be driving home tonight.”

“Stand back, stand back!” another voice called. “Got to get the hose through.”

“Andrew, was something hit?” Gloria asked.

“Let’s have a look-see.” He helped her though the door and to the top of the steps. A few yards down the street, Andrew’s car was burning like a 5th of November bonfire, right next to a vast pile of rubble that, if Gloria remembered rightly, had been an ironmonger.

“Oh, my God!” Andrew said, looking from Gloria to his burning car and back again. He was obviously dying to run to check.

“Go and look, Andrew. See what they can do. I’ll wait here.” Not much point, it was obvious his car was done for.

Fifteen firemen—watching minutes later, he agreed.

“We’re stuck here until the buses start up in the morning,” Andrew said, as he came back and sat beside her. “If only I’d parked it the other side of the street.” He put his arm around her shoulders and held her tight. Was it to give or get comfort? Didn’t matter. She put her head on his shoulder.

“We can ‘if only’ all night.” Gloria replied. “Shouldn’t we see about finding an aid post or somewhere? We can’t stay here.”

“I don’t see why not. It’s a hotel isn’t it? And the only damage is a few broken windows and some cracked plaster. I’m going to see what I can do.” He stood up and she instantly missed his touch.

She sighed and wondered where the nearest wardens’ post or rescue center was. Surely the hotel would close for the night?

Seemed not. In a few minutes, Andrew was back, brandishing a room key. “They gave us a room in the back,” he said. “Should be quieter than out front and…” he broke off. “Christ! Gloria, I never thought, I’d better get another room, I didn’t mean…”

He might not have been thinking, she certainly wasn’t. Just having him back within touching distance was all she wanted right now. She reached for the key, closing her hand over his, “Andrew, one room will do me fine, as long as I have towels and soap to wash with.” After the past few hours, she understood what Alice meant about seizing the moment. If it had been the White Horse and not that ironmonger, they’d be gone. They weren’t and she did not want to sleep alone.

“Sure?”

“Absolutely. There is the little matter of getting up those stairs.” They were wide, yes, but tall and had two bends. Her arms ached just looking at them.

“I’ll take care of that. That’s a doddle,” he replied.

Not quite. He had to pause at each turn and set her on her feet for a few moments to catch his breath, but he got her up there, the waiter pressed into service to carry her crutches and open the door.

It was a beautiful room—or once had been—with a four-poster bed and heavy curtains, vestiges of prewar splendor. The frigid cold and the barren fireplace were harsh reminders of wartime.

“No chance of a fire, I suppose?” Andrew asked. He was being optimistic.

“Sorry, sir. Takes all we’ve got to heat the downstairs. I can bring extra blankets if you want.”

They did want. “What about hot water bottles?” Gloria asked.

“I’ll send one of the girls up with them,” he promised and nipped out the door. Before they could ask for anything else, Gloria guessed.

“While we’re waiting, I’m going to investigate the toilet,” Alice said, “and hope it’s not up or down a flight of stairs.”

“I’ll go downstairs and chivvy everyone along. I don’t want them forgetting we’re here.”

The toilet was just a couple of doors down the hall, right next door to a vast tiled bathroom of glacial splendor. Guessing hot water was in short supply, and the logistics of a bath sheer impossibility with her cast, Gloria settled for a quick (and cold) wash in the basin in the room, sat down in a chintz-covered armchair and asked herself what she really thought she was doing.

Quite simply, she was going to spend the night in the same bed as Andrew Barron and hoped to high heaven they didn’t spend the night sleeping.

She wanted him plain and simple. Wanted more than his arms around her, much more than his kisses. Wanted him in every way a woman needed a man and she didn’t intend to wait.

A cold wash and an unheated room did nothing to cool the heat inside.

She was a floozy.

A loose woman.

She was being bold.

Far too forward.

And didn’t give a damn.

Death and injury had bypassed her, she was going to grasp hold of life.

Before she lost her nerve, she crutched it over to the side of the bed, took off her clothes, folding them as best she could, on one leg. Left on her petticoat so as not to seem too fast, and nipped between the covers, pulling them up to her chin.

She’d done it.

So far.

All she had to do now was wait for Andrew.