The Forget-Me-Not Summer (31 page)

Steve slung an arm round her waist, pulling her close. ‘If we keep in step we'll go faster, like in a three-legged race,' he informed her. He slid his hand a little lower and patted her bottom. ‘My oh my, I do believe you've put on a bit of weight. About time if you ask me.'

He half expected Miranda to take offence, for she had always tried to keep him at arm's length, but either because she was so pleased to see him, or because she was too tired to quibble, she just chuckled sleepily and snuggled against him. ‘Oh, you!' she said drowsily. ‘Did I tell you you'd be sleeping on our sofa? I suppose if I were a real lady I'd offer you my bed, but since I'm nothing of the kind you're condemned to the sofa, my boy. Oh, Steve, it's so good to see you again and have a bit of a laugh together. You may only be my best friend, but I'm really fond of you, honest to God I am.'

Steve heaved a deep sigh and gave Miranda's waist a squeeze. ‘Oh well, I guess it's better than nothing,' he said resignedly. ‘And now tell me all your news. Have you been back to Jamaica House at all? I remember someone saying that since Mr Grimshaw had the deeds
somewhere in his office he would be entitled to claim it, though he wasn't particularly interested in doing so, as I recall.'

‘I've been far too busy to traipse all the way round there,' Miranda said rather indignantly. ‘I told you I was a fire watcher – not that there have been any fires to watch yet – and I've joined the WVS; I do all sorts, never have a moment to myself, and Avril's the same. If you were home for longer we might go round and just check up that no one's found the door in the wall. When you think about it, a spy could set up a whole wireless network inside the old house and no one the wiser. I say, Steve, I never thought of that! Do you think we ought to nip round in the morning and check up?'

Steve laughed, but shook his head. ‘No I do not! To tell you the truth, Mr Grimshaw said something of the sort when I got my posting and went round to Holmwood Lodge to say cheerio. He told me then that he would arrange for someone to keep an eye on the old place and would tell the authorities to check on it every so often once the boys left the area.' He peered at the pale shape of Miranda's face, turned enquiringly up to his. ‘Are the Grimshaw boys still around?'

‘Well, Gerald's still at school, of course, and Julian changed his mind about going to Sandhurst. He went to Africa instead, where he's flying Stringbags and happy as a sand boy. Before he went to Rhodesia he came over to see us, to say cheerio I s'pose, and I was working late and didn't see him, but he took Avril to the flicks and then out for a meal. Nice of him, wasn't it?'

‘Very,' Steve said off-handedly. He squeezed her waist again. ‘Glad it wasn't you. I've enough trouble keepin'
tabs on Gerald without havin' to widen my scope to include Julian as well.'

Miranda pinched his hand. ‘Rubbish; you're all my friends, all equal,' she said grandly, and ignored Steve's groan.

By the time Steve snuggled down on the sofa, he felt his cup of happiness was full. They had had a marvellous Christmas Day, starting with what he called a pre-war breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage and fried bread, to say nothing of toast and marmalade and large mugs of tea. They had opened their presents earlier and Steve had been the recipient of ten Woodbines from Avril, and an air force blue muffler and matching gloves from Miranda. He had bought both girls attractive headscarves which were much appreciated, though Miranda told him that, should she wear hers at night, the oranges and lemons emblazoned upon a navy blue background would be noticeable enough to draw enemy fire.

Soon after breakfast Gary Hamilton had arrived. Avril had forbidden him to buy presents since, as she told him with all her usual honesty, she and Miranda had been far too busy to search for something for him, not knowing his tastes. However, he had brought a large cauliflower which one of the stallholders on the Great Homer Street market had sold him cheap the previous day, and offered it to Avril, blushing to the roots of his hair. ‘You said no presents, but I thought you might make use of this,' he said, thrusting it into her hands. ‘It's not what you might call a present . . .'

Helping him out of his coat and scarf and sitting him down before the fire, for it was bitterly cold outside, Avril
assured him that the cauliflower was much appreciated and would be served next day, and then introduced him to Steve. ‘He's only here until lunchtime tomorrow,' she explained, ‘so we've got to make the most of today.'

And make the most of it they did, Steve recalled happily. They spent the morning preparing the chicken dinner they were going to enjoy, and as they peeled vegetables, made gravy and boiled the pudding, they talked and laughed, getting to know one another. After dinner they listened to the King's Christmas message and then played games before setting off, well wrapped, to make room for the tea which the girls had prepared in advance.

‘Let's see if we can walk all the way to Prince's Park, and see if the lake is iced over. It's a pity it's not snowing because we could have a grand snowball battle between the four of us.' Miranda had sighed reminiscently. ‘When I was at the Rankin Academy I had a friend called Louise, and she had two brothers, twins they were. The four of us used to have no end of fun when it was snowy. We'd make snowmen, and then a sort of snow castle, which two of us would defend and two would attack. Usually I got the smaller of the twins, Trevor, and Louise had Philip. Then whichever couple won would have to treat the other pair to tea and scones at the little café down by the orangery.' She sighed happily. ‘I suppose we're too old now for snow battles, but I wouldn't mind a slide on the lake, if the ice is bearing.'

When they set out on the long walk, well muffled up, they had flinched against the icy wind, but by the time they reached the park they were glowing with health and warmth. Despite Miranda's hopes the lake
was not completely iced over, and her fear that the café would be closed proved to be justified, but even so they thoroughly enjoyed the exercise. They did not indulge in races, because it would not have been fair on Gary, but they played guessing games, Chinese whispers and the like, and despite the enormous chicken dinner they had eaten were ravenous once more when they arrived back at the flat in time for tea. When the meal was over they played more games amidst great hilarity until Avril, saying she would accompany Gary part of the way back to his hostel, put on her outer clothing and wagged a finger at Miranda. ‘Don't you take advantage of our being away to get up to any naughty tricks,' she said teasingly. ‘I can see young Steve there is longing for a cuddling session.' She struck her head with the back of her hand. ‘There, we never played postman's knock; that's a good game for a Christmas party.'

‘We don't need games; we can have a cuddle for old times' sake, can't we, Miranda?' Steve said as the door closed behind Avril and Gary. He sat down in one of the creaking wicker armchairs and pulled Miranda on to his lap. ‘Oh, you're lovely and warm and cuddly,' he said, pressing his cheek against hers. ‘Tell you what, if we get up early you and me can go round to Jamaica House and make sure all's well there. I'd like to see the old place again; if it hadn't been for Jamaica House you and I might never have got together.'

‘We've not got together now, not in the way you mean,' Miranda objected. ‘I do like that Gary, don't you? Avril pretends there's nothing in it, but if you ask me, they'll be a couple by the time the winter's over. I'd better put
the kettle on, because when Avril gets back the first thing she'll want will be a nice hot cup of tea.'

‘The first thing I'll want is more cuddling and perhaps a bit of kissing as well,' Steve said plaintively. ‘I agree with you, though, that Gary and Avril look like becoming a couple.' He pulled a funny face, cocking one eyebrow and speaking in a transatlantic accent. ‘How's about youse an' me follerin' suit, Miss Gorgeous?' he said hopefully. ‘I
need
a girlfriend to keep up my reputation as a great lover. Come on, Miranda, say you'll be my girl.'

Miranda, pouring boiling water into the teapot, put the kettle back on the stove and gave Steve an indulgent smile. ‘Give you an inch and you'll take a mile,' she said, and then, when Steve pulled a disappointed face, she chuckled, crossed the room, pulled him to his feet and kissed the side of his mouth. Steve moved his head quickly and was fielding another kiss when, at this inauspicious moment, the door opened and Avril and a blast of cold wind entered the kitchen. He and Miranda sprang apart as though they had been doing something far more interesting than just kissing, but Avril was oblivious. She rushed over to the fire and stood as close to it as she could, teeth chattering.

‘I'm perishin' perished,' she announced, beginning to unbutton her coat, remove her headscarf and endeavour to fluff up her flattened hair. ‘Does that teapot still hold enough for one?'

‘It holds enough for three,' Miranda said, getting three mugs down from the Welsh dresser. ‘Steve and I were just saying what a grand feller Gary is. You really like him, don't you Avril?'

Steve turned his head so that he could look at the older
girl, and saw her eyes begin to sparkle, and the pink in her cheeks to deepen. ‘Yes, he's a grand chap,' she said. ‘If you knew what he had to put up with when he was first in hospital . . . but no point in talking about that. He's the bravest bloke I've ever met, I admire him tremendously and – and he's invited me to go to the theatre with him when the pantomime starts in January. He says he doesn't care if he's the only feller in the audience over ten years old, and he says we'll have fish and chips afterwards. Oh, Miranda, I do like him so much!'

So now Steve, clutching his pillow and wishing it was Miranda, thought that the four of them had had a perfect day. There had not been a single disagreement and everyone, he knew, had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Next day he would have to leave the flat no later than noon, but the girls had decided to combine breakfast and lunch, and have a meal at around eleven o' clock. Then they would all go to the station together and he would set out on the long cold journey back to his Norfolk airfield. As he contemplated the following day he found himself hoping that Avril and Gary would have enough tact to realise that he and Miranda would want to be alone – or as alone as anyone could be on a crowded railway platform – to say their goodbyes, which might have to last them for many months, since rumour had it that postings would be handed out as soon as everyone had returned from their Christmas holidays.

In fact, however, when they reached Lime Street the following day the train he meant to catch was drawing into the platform, and he almost hurled himself aboard, then let down the window and leaned out to grab as much of Miranda as he could hold. ‘Write to me every
week – every day – and I'll write back whenever I've gorra moment,' he gabbled. He tried to give her a really ardent kiss but even as he pursed his lips for action the train began to move, porters began to shout and Miranda was quite literally torn from his arms. Steve leaned even further out of the carriage. ‘I love you, Miranda Lovage,' he bawled, not caring who was listening or what they might think. ‘Take care of yourself until I come home to take care of you myself.'

He could see Miranda's lips moving but could not hear what she was saying, and decided to assume it was words of love. Why should it not be, after all? He knew she was fond of Gerald but sincerely hoped that her feelings for the other boy stopped at liking. And in the meantime, whilst he remained in Norfolk a telephone call a couple of times a month and as many letters as she could pen would have to do.

Steve withdrew from the window as the train began to pick up speed. It was a corridor train, and he had slung his kitbag on to a corner seat to save himself a place, for the train was crowded. He straightened his fore and aft, checked in the window glass that his uniform was all correct and went back to his seat, reaching up to put his kitbag on the overhead rack, and then settling into his place with a contented sigh. It had been a fantastic Christmas, the best he could remember since he was a small boy, and it occurred to him now that it was the first time Miranda had not gone on and on about Arabella; this, he thought, was a good sign. When he had first joined the air force, her weekly letters had been full of her inability to believe that her mother was dead. She had wanted constant reassurance and he had done his
best to give it, because Mr Grimshaw had said that she would begin to accept her loss as time went by. Now, it seemed that Mr Grimshaw was right, for Miranda had not once mentioned Arabella from the moment she had met him off the train to the moment when he had embarked on his return journey.

Steve looked around the compartment; two sailors, four airmen, including himself, and two brown jobs, one a sergeant, all settling themselves for sleep. Steve chuckled inwardly; one thing the forces did teach you was to snatch a nap whenever you got the chance, so you would be fresh and rested for whatever trials were to come. Steve closed his eyes and began to relive his lovely Christmas. Soon, he slept.

‘It's a jolly good thing we had such a wizard Christmas, because this perishin' weather looks like lasting for ever,' Miranda said discontentedly. She and Avril had quite by chance boarded the same tram, and were now hanging on to a shared strap as the vehicle began to lurch along the main road. ‘Have you ever seen such conditions? Steve's last letter was full of it, but in a way he thinks it's a good thing. Norfolk is even worse than us, with the blizzards blowing the snow into huge mountains, blocking roads and breaking the branches off trees. I should think even the kids must be fed up with snowballs and snowmen when they're accompanied by freezing feet and icicles forming on your nose whenever you forget to wipe it.'