Читать книгу An Orphan in the Snow: The heart-warming saga you need to read this year - Molly Green, Molly Green - Страница 14

‘We should ask Kathleen if she’s coming to the dance with us tonight,’ Iris said when the children were filing out of the dining room after breakfast. ‘She usually does, even though she’s got a boyfriend.’

June raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t like to comment that if she had a boyfriend she didn’t think she’d be interested in going to any dance.

‘You look rather disapproving.’ Iris got hold of a young lad who was trying to push in front of her. ‘Just watch it, young Baker.’ She turned to June. ‘Kathleen says she wants to have a bit of fun as you never know when your last day might come. She says she’s sure Dick is enjoying himself when he gets some time off.’

‘I didn’t mean to look disapproving,’ June said quickly. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm but with such a shortage of girls she might have her head turned … especially if all your stories about the Americans and the money they spend on their girlfriends are true.’

Iris laughed. ‘Dick would soon put a stop to anything like that, though he’s not near enough to keep a close eye. He’s somewhere the other end of England and she hasn’t seen him for six months or more. Anyway, I’ll ask her, if it’s all right with you.’

‘Of course it is. I like her company.’

‘And you’re definitely coming? You’re not going to back out at the last minute?’

‘No, I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to appear in anything special. I’ve only got a black skirt and a green blouse – not at all suitable for a dance. But it will have to do.’

‘We may have to make you a dress from the curtains in the common room.’ Iris giggled. ‘Like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.’

June grinned. ‘That was wonderful, wasn’t it? She certainly had Rhett Butler fooled – for a while anyway.’

Even though June worried that her outfit wouldn’t be good enough and she’d be embarrassed, she couldn’t help feeling a little buzz of excitement. She hadn’t been out for the evening since her arrival and it was less than a fortnight until Christmas. In fact, this was the RAF’s Christmas ‘do’. It would be nice to be out of the home, magnificent as it was, for a change. She wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond that.

Kathleen didn’t go with them after all. She’d finally had a letter from her boyfriend and told June and Iris she was going to stay in her room and reread his words to her heart’s content.

‘I’ve got to stay faithful for once in my life,’ she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

‘Next time, maybe,’ Iris said. ‘Right, Junie, are you nearly ready?’

June had spent a miserable hour trying to make herself look more feminine than she’d felt lately. She’d powdered her nose, and dabbed on some lipstick. Even though she’d eked it out, the stick was going down at an alarming rate. But tonight she wanted to look her best, especially when she didn’t have a nice dress to wear.

It was her hair that was giving her the most trouble. It was so thick it refused to stay in place no matter how many times she practised the Victory Roll. Athena Graham always had a perfect one. So why couldn’t she do one? In the end she pulled up a hank of hair at each side and stuck two tortoiseshell combs in. Her only real touch of glamour, she decided, would be the pearl necklace her mother had given her before she died. It had been her grandmother’s before that, and now it was June’s. She bent her neck and set the string of pearls just above her collarbone, fastening it at the back. It was beautiful. Nodding with not exactly satisfaction, but at least approval that she looked clean and tidy, she smiled at the image and the image smiled back at her. There was no more she could do. If they didn’t think she looked right it was just too bad.

‘It’s still snowing,’ Iris said, looking her up and down as was her way. ‘You need your boots. You can take your shoes in a bag and change them once you get there. That’s what I’m going to do.’

June sent her friend a grateful smile. She’d worried that she would look odd changing her shoes at the RAF station. She grabbed her coat and hat and they shot out of the door. The walk to the bus stop seemed shorter now she was used to it and soon they were in a warm bus on their way to Speke RAF station

As the bus jolted along and Iris chattered away, June began to look forward to the evening. She had a strong feeling Murray Andrews would be there and her cheeks warmed like the pearls nestling in the curve of her neck.

The dance was obviously a popular event with the officers, June thought, judging by the amount of noise coming from that direction as she and Iris sat on chairs by the open door, eased off their boots and put them neatly beneath their coats, now hanging on a rail. Her heart started to beat a little faster and she felt her new-found confidence ebbing away as she looked down at her attire, which could never pass for evening wear: her best flower-printed green blouse with short puff sleeves and a plain black skirt that had to go with everything. Well – nothing she could do about it now.

Drawing in a deep breath she put her arm through Iris’s and the two of them stepped into the hall. Officers, all in uniform, dominated the dance hall, which was decorated with paper chains and balloons ready for Christmas. Clouds of smoke wafted towards the ceiling and the room was filled with chatter and Glenn Miller’s music from a small group of musicians at the far end. Uniformed officers were throwing their heads back as they laughed with their friends, for all the world as though they didn’t have a care. As Iris had promised, there were many more of them than there were women. Several of the latter were dressed to the nines, as her mother would have said.

‘You mustn’t ever be caught wearing bright-red lipstick, dear,’ she’d told June once. ‘Men don’t like it and you don’t want to be accused of being fast.’

June’s stomach turned. Cold perspiration gathered on her forehead. She wasn’t dressed properly for a dance at all. She turned away, ready to bolt out of the door and run for the next bus, when she felt Iris’s hand give hers a reassuring squeeze.

‘Not everyone’s dressed to kill,’ Iris whispered. ‘Look, there are some girls over there in uniform.’ She gave a casual wave then glanced at June. ‘With your face and figure you’ll be a match for any of ’em.’

As though to confirm Iris’s remark an exceptionally tall man with a GI crewcut strode up. You could only describe him as handsome, June thought, and he knew it.

‘Hi, girls. Have y’all just arrived?’ He looked and sounded like one of those American film stars Aunt Ada was so fond of. ‘Name’s Charles Lockstone. Well, I’m usually called Chas – or worse, Chuck – straight from Savannah, Georgia.’ He grinned at both women but his eyes lingered on June. They were a light blue, flashing with merriment. ‘So tell me your names, beautiful ladies.’

June gave a small smile just for good manners. She wasn’t used to such a blatant introduction.

‘I’m Iris, and this is my good friend June,’ Iris said before June could answer for herself.

‘And where have y’all sprung from?’

‘We haven’t exactly sprung from anywhere,’ Iris answered. ‘We’ve come from Bingham Hall – the grand house just outside Bingham village.’

‘Have y’all been kept prisoners there?’ Chas broke into a grin again. ‘And did you tie a knotted sheet and climb out of your prison window and escape to give us poor guys a bit of feminine company?’ He had an attractive drawl.

‘Hardly,’ Iris said. ‘It’s a Dr Barnardo’s home.’

Chas looked puzzled.

‘Have you never heard of them?’ Iris asked, and Chas shook his head.

‘It’s a home for orphans,’ Iris explained. ‘And we work jolly hard there. I’m a nurse and June is Matron’s assistant, even though she’s trained to be a nursery nurse.’

June envied the easy way Iris had of talking to a strange man, and an American at that. He sounded just like Rhett Butler.

‘Say, can I buy you girls a drink?’

‘Thank you – that would be lovely,’ Iris said quickly, throwing Chas a wide smile. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.’

June rather wished Iris hadn’t accepted a drink from the first person who’d set eyes on her. Deep down she hoped to see Murray Andrews. Thank him properly for getting her book at a reduction. Her eyes scanned the room but it was already so crowded it would be difficult to pick out anyone, especially someone she’d only briefly met.

She felt the American’s eyes on her, waiting to be told what she would like.

‘Nothing for me for the moment, thank you,’ she said.

‘You sure about that, ma’am?’ His smile was wide and didn’t leave her face.

‘Quite sure, thank you.’

‘I’ll get ours then, Iris,’ he said, and disappeared.

‘You were awfully quiet, Junie, but it’s quite obvious you’ve made a hit with him.’

‘I don’t want to make a hit with anyone,’ June said sincerely. ‘It’s nice just to be here and maybe have a dance or two. But that’s all. I want to concentrate on the children, not some man who thinks I’m only after a good time.’ She managed to stop her eyes sweeping the room.

‘You have to forgive them – the Americans, I mean. They’re all like that. Much more open and friendly than the English – so I’ve been told, anyway.’ Iris laughed. ‘I wouldn’t say no to a lovely American officer.’

‘You can have him with my complete approval,’ June said, smiling.

‘I would if I could. But you can see he’s only got eyes for you.’

‘You’re wrong, but even if it’s true, I’m not interested. All I want is to try out my dance steps which Aunt Ada taught me.’

The music changed at that moment to a quicker rhythm which June had never heard before. Chas came towards them, a glass in each hand. As he wove his way through the crowd, June realised he was head and shoulders taller than almost anyone else.

‘I’ve found the only table,’ he said, gesturing with a jerk of his shoulder. ‘Had to give the barman a quid, I think you call it, to reserve it for us. Now which one of you lovely ladies wants me to teach her the jitterbug?’

June’s annoyance grew. Thanks to Iris she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. But then she heard a voice behind her.

‘Good evening, Miss Lavender.’

June turned and found herself looking up into a pair of sky-blue twinkling eyes. Flight Lieutenant Andrews in full uniform. She’d only ever seen him in his greatcoat. Her breath caught. He wasn’t nearly so handsome as Chas but there was something about the way his tawny hair fell forward over darker eyebrows, his smiling mouth, the cleft in his chin … She grew hot under his gaze, feeling more uncomfortable as she sensed Iris watching her with open curiosity.

‘Flight Lieutenant Andrews – how nice to see you again.’ June fought to keep her voice steady as she held out her hand. He took it in both of his. The warmth of his skin … she felt a tremor … was it from his hand, or her own?

‘Say, you already know Andrews?’ Chas glanced at Murray and lingered on June.

‘Oh, yes,’ Murray put in quickly before June could think what to say. ‘We’ve travelled together on the same train from London, we’ve chatted in a bookshop in Liverpool about Monica Dickens, we nearly had a cup of tea together’ – he turned to June and winked – ‘but unfortunately she had to rush away.’

‘I’d hardly call it travelling together when I just asked to get by in the corridor,’ June protested, which made Murray’s smile even wider.

‘Seeing as Junie’s not going to introduce us, I’m Iris.’ Iris stuck her hand out and Murray immediately shook hands with her.

‘What will you have to drink?’ Chas addressed Murray.

‘Let me get them,’ Murray said. He turned to June and Iris. ‘What would you like?’

‘I’ve got mine,’ Iris said, holding up her glass.

‘Miss Lavender?’ The blue eyes turned to her.

‘Just a lemonade for me, please,’ June said quickly, unaccountably pleased that it would be Murray buying her a drink and not Chas.

‘No dice, Andrews. I asked y’all first. Sit down at the table or I’ve wasted a quid. I’ll get you a beer and a lemonade for June.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Iris said, giving June a huge wink which she pretended to ignore.

‘Have you just arrived?’ Murray asked when Chas and Iris disappeared.

June nodded. ‘I wondered if you might be here.’

Oh, why did she say that? Her mother would have told her off for sounding too forward. She only hoped the dim light disguised her tingling cheeks.

‘Did you? Did you really?’ Murray’s expression was eager.

‘Yes. I wanted to apologise.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘For rushing away, as you just told them.’

‘Well, you did, didn’t you?’

‘I was supposed to meet Iris at half-past eleven for coffee and was already late. That was all.’

‘I thought you might have had an appointment with a boyfriend.’

‘Flight Lieutenant Andrews, I haven’t got time for that sort of thing. I’m working six days a week and long hours.’

‘Murray, please.’ Murray gave a theatrical sigh. ‘So that’s me out, is it?’

‘Afraid so.’ The retort was out before she could stop it. She wanted to retract it. Tell him she hadn’t meant to sound so abrupt. She’d been like it in the bookshop as well and it wasn’t in her nature to be rude. A stream of smoke wafted towards them and she felt it thick in her throat. She swallowed, trying to stop herself coughing.

The conversation was going nowhere, she thought, but she hadn’t reckoned with Murray.

‘Miss Lavender – June, if I may – I’m really happy you came tonight. Tell me – how are you getting on with One Pair of Hands? You know I really want to borrow it after you.’

‘I’m surprised you remember it.’