The Forget-Me-Not Summer (35 page)

The only trouble was that she did not seem to realise that he had got past mere friendship and was floundering in a sea of love which she refused to let him show. He had envied the Grimshaws – Julian must have looked so suave and handsome in the uniform of a flying officer – but Julian was in Africa, training other men to fly fighter aircraft, whilst he, at long last, was on the spot. And he intended to make the most of it. Only the elderly partners and the two old biddies Miranda had told him about were left in Mr Grimshaw's office, which meant that at least there was little fear of her becoming emotionally involved with a fellow worker. But he knew she occasionally saw Gerald, and the previous evening he had been dismayed when he saw pink colour flood her cheeks at the mention of his name, and her eyes, which had been staring straight into his, suddenly veil themselves in their long pale lashes. He had given a sheepish grin. ‘I think Gerald might have his eye on you,' he said frankly. ‘If only you'd let me buy you an engagement ring – just a tiny one – then I'd know he wasn't a threat.'

‘Oh, Steve, what a fool you are! I like both of you, but in different ways. You've been like a brother to me.'

Infuriated, Steve had got to his feet, crossed the room in a couple of strides and plucked Miranda out of her chair as though she weighed no more than a kitten. ‘I am
not
your brother, for which I thank God devoutly,' he had said crossly. ‘I fell in love with you when you were a scrawny little stick of a kid climbing the trees in the Jamaica House garden and throwing the fruit down to me, and I'm in love with you still, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.'

He had waited for an indignant reply, and had been pleasantly surprised when Miranda had flung an arm round his neck, pulled his face down to her level and kissed first his cheek and then the side of his mouth, though she had moved back before he could take full advantage of her softened mood. ‘Look, Steve, I'm not very old and neither are you. And Gerald is a lot of fun to be with . . .'

Steve had sighed. He had been standing with her in his arms, but then he sat her down again and took his own place at the table once more. ‘All right, all right, I'm jumping the gun, but I just want you to know that you can't go off and get yourself tied up to any Tom, Dick or Harry because you're mine; get it?'

Miranda had pulled a face. ‘I don't belong to anyone but myself,' she said firmly. ‘And don't worry, no Tom, Dick or Harry – or Gerald or Julian for that matter – is going to want to sweep me off my feet. And now let's eat up so that we can both get to bed. I see the kettle's boiling so I'll make us both a hot water bottle as soon as I've finished my supper.'

‘If you go pouring boiling water into a rubber bag you're liable to get an unpleasant shock in the middle of the night,' Steve had warned her. ‘You'll wake up, thinking you've peed the bed, not realising . . .'

‘Don't be so rude. I've been making hot water bottles for years and always pour cold in first,' Miranda had said reprovingly. ‘And now you can stop going on about poor Gerald and tell me more about Texas.'

Now, Steve stroked Miranda's cheek, looking forward to the moment when she awoke and found herself in his arms, but though she murmured she still did not wake and Steve's thoughts returned to the past.
Why
did he
love Miranda so desperately? He had to admit, though no longer quite so scrawny and with her carroty hair darkened to auburn, she was still no beauty. She had a pointy chin, a straight little nose and a generous mouth, whilst her big greenish-hazel eyes seemed almost too large for her small heart-shaped face. Steve could think of a dozen girls, many of whom he had taken around whilst in Texas, who were twice as pretty and half a dozen times as willing as Miranda Lovage. But she had, for him, an attraction which could not be put into words, and he supposed that Gerald and perhaps many other men were also aware of her charms. The thought made him jerk back on to his elbow. He was home in England now and could arrange for her to visit his airfield once he got a definite posting; then he would persuade her to start thinking seriously about marriage.

As though she had read his thoughts, Miranda gave a soft moan and sat up. She stared around her, eyes dilating. ‘Where the devil am I?' she said in a bewildered voice. ‘Oh my goodness, what's the time? Avril, have I missed the alarm? Oh my goodness!'

As she spoke she heaved herself clear of the blankets and wrenched herself out of Steve's embrace with such force that they both descended to the floor with a crash, Steve giggling helplessly and Miranda scolding. ‘Oh, Steve, I must have fallen asleep . . . I was so tired, you wouldn't believe . . . oh, goodness, it's morning and it was my turn to make the breakfast.' She turned on him where he lay on the floor, still laughing, and punched him in the stomach. ‘You beast, Steve Mickleborough, how dare you let me fall asleep! Oh, and we were both wearing all our clothes . . .'

‘Not all of them; I took my tunic off so I was in shirtsleeves, but I'm afraid you're right and my kecks are pretty crumpled,' Steve said ruefully. ‘But I was about to wake you 'cos I hear sounds of movement coming from your kitchen. You'll want to wash and dress and so on in your own bedroom, whilst I'll have to make do with the kitchen sink.' He grinned at her. ‘Do you realise what this means? We've spent the night together and folk will think that I must do the decent thing and marry you! What do you say?'

Miranda, trying to comb her hair with her fingers for it had got considerably tangled in the night, was beginning to tell Steve that if he breathed a word regarding where he had spent the night she would excommunicate him, when the door to the living room burst open. Avril stood there, round-eyed. ‘Wharron earth . . .' she was beginning when Miranda, choking back a laugh, interrupted.

‘Oh, Avril, can't you guess? We came through here to make up the couch as a bed for Steve. Only we both went and fell asleep and we've only just woken up.' She stood up, stretched and yawned. ‘Thank the Lord Mr Grimshaw gave me the day off because Steve was coming home! But now we'd better get a move on because Steve will want to go back to Jamaica Close to see whether his mam really means to come for Christmas, and I intend to go with him.' As she spoke she had been tidying away the blankets, and Steve, scrambling to his feet, went to the window, pulled back the curtains and wound up the blackout blind, then turned to Avril.

‘Much though I hate to admit it, nothing of an interesting nature occurred all night because we were so
perishin' exhausted,' he said, grinning. ‘But if I may have a borrow of your sofa again tonight I can promise you I'll stay awake if I have to prop up my eyelids wi' matchsticks.'

He was relieved when Avril laughed, came over and gave him a shove. ‘Men!' she said scornfully. ‘You're all talk and trousers, you. I know me pal better'n you ever did and she ain't the sort to give a feller what he wants just because she's knowed him years.' She looked at Miranda. ‘It's perishin' cold still but I've put the kettle on for tea and poured hot water into the big enamel jug. So if you take that to your room you can have a wash and change. You can't wear that skirt and blouse; they look as though you've slept in 'em.' She turned her attention back to Steve. ‘As for you, I'll go back to my room while you make yourself respectable. We've an electric iron and an ironing board what we got off Paddy's Market, so if you want to give your kecks a quick press you can do it whilst Miranda and meself check that our glad rags are in good repair.' She gave him a wicked grin. ‘I take it you're going to invite us both out for some grub, lunchtime.' She pulled a pious face, though her eyes were still twinkling. ‘You could call it buyin' me silence, or a spot of blackmail, whichever you prefer. If you treat me right I'll keep me gob shut.'

Steve sighed theatrically, but said he was very willing to mug them a meal at noon and arranged to meet outside Lewis's, though he told Avril he meant to go to Jamaica Close as soon as he'd had some breakfast. ‘I think Mam's due to come back tomorrow, but I know Dad's written to her absolutely forbidding her to bring Kenny and the little 'un into danger, even for the sake of having a family
Christmas,' he explained. ‘It ain't as though you can rely on the Luftwaffe to just drop the odd bomb whilst they're concentrating on wiping poor old London off the map. Any day now they could turn their attention to the next largest port in the country and begin to hand out the sort of punishment the Londoners have been facing. But you know women; once they get an idea into their heads it's powerful difficult to get it out again, and . . .'

‘Shut up!' both girls screamed in unison, Miranda adding: ‘Your mam's really sensible and wouldn't bring the little 'uns into danger. So shut up and give yourself a good wash whilst I do the same, then we can have some porridge and toast and start our day on a full stomach.'

Although she would never have admitted it Miranda had found waking up in Steve's arms strangely exciting, and she had been aware of a slight sense of disappointment when he had not tried to take advantage of the situation. In fact she felt quite peeved. He said he loved her, which presumably meant he wanted her, yet there she had been, in his arms and at his mercy so to speak, and he had not tried to cajole her in any way, save to suggest teasingly that, having spent the night with him, she might want to marry him, thus regularising the situation. However, she supposed that it was really a sign of Steve's respect and decided she should be grateful. She had heard various stories from girls in the factory about what happened when you ‘gave your all', and it sounded rude, embarrassing, and even rather painful. Definitely not the sort of thing which one did casually, especially when one knew that the door to the room in
which one lay might suddenly burst open to reveal the shocked face of one's best friend.

Having convinced herself that all was well Miranda got on with the task in hand. Only the previous week she had treated herself to a thick and far from new seaman's jersey in navy blue wool, for it was already obvious that they were going to be in for another very cold winter. The jersey had been shrunken, with both elbows out and holes in various strategic spots, but Avril had been taught the art of darning and sewing whilst at the children's home and had offered to put it right. Not one hole remained, and Miranda had embellished the garment by embroidering lazy daisies round the crew neck. She put it on now with a thick woollen skirt, also in navy, and went through to the kitchen where Avril was already dishing up the porridge, and Steve, fully dressed, was turning away from the sink. He grinned at her. ‘Hello again, queen. It's perishin' cold out,' he greeted her. ‘I went down to the privy for the usual purpose and there's a big puddle frozen solid right at the bottom of the stair, so if you need to go you want to watch out.'

‘I'm all right, thanks,' Miranda said, having shot down to the privy before going to her bedroom to change her rumpled clothing. ‘Gosh, the porridge smells good; oh, and toast as well.' She grinned at Avril. ‘Good job bread isn't rationed.'

The three sat down to their meal and presently, the girls clad in their thick coats and hats, they left the flat, descended the stairs and decided to go their separate ways, since Avril, who was not on shift till the following evening, still had a couple of presents to buy and Miranda
wanted to go back to Jamaica Close with Steve. Her main reason for this was to learn whether Mrs Mickleborough had decided against returning to the city for Christmas. If she had, Miranda intended to ask Steve and his gran back to the flat for the day itself, but of course she would not do so should Mrs Mickleborough and the little ones be coming home. There simply would not be sufficient room in the flat for five extra people, and though Miranda had not seen Kenny since the previous September she remembered him as being lively and demanding, to say the least, whilst Flora was surely toddling about under her own steam by now.

So when they reached the main road Avril went off towards the city centre, whilst Steve and Miranda caught a tram and were presently knocking on the door of Number Two Jamaica Close. They heard Gran's slippered feet shuffling along the front hall, and presently the old lady was exclaiming with delight and ushering them into the kitchen, where a bright fire burned in the range and the kettle was hopping on the hob. ‘Eh, it's grand to see thee, lad, real grand,' Granny Granger said. She beamed at Miranda. ‘And you've brought your young lady along! Eh, I'm honoured! Now sit down the pair of you and you shall have tea and a bit of me seed cake, 'cos it's mortal cold out there.' She chuckled richly. ‘When I visited the privy earlier me bum near on froze to the seat; imagine that!' Her visitors laughed, but as soon as they were settled with tea and cake the question which Miranda guessed was uppermost in Steve's mind was voiced. Gran, however, shook her head. ‘I dunno whether they'll take the chance, but if her good man's letter reaches her in time I reckon she'll give up the idea. If
you ask me she'd be downright foolish to take the risk. It ain't as if she were unhappy in that little Welsh village, 'cos she ain't. Her letters is full of country talk, and she says after the war's over she means to try for a country cottage. I dunno as she'll ever get one, 'cos her hubby has to be near his work, but it's good that she's goin' to try. More toast? Another cup?'

Steve accepted, but Miranda, shaking her head, got to her feet. ‘Thanks, Mrs Granger, but I believe I ought to visit my aunt and my cousin Beth. I've not been round since war broke out – I've been too busy – but now I'm actually in the neighbourhood I really should say hello. And I've got a little present for Beth, and one for my aunt, so if you don't mind I'll just nip up the road.'

Granny Granger nodded her understanding. Steve reminded Miranda to give a knock on the door when she was ready to leave, and then he and the old lady settled down to talk of aunts and cousins he had not seen for many months, whilst Miranda walked along to her aunt's house and knocked on the door, aware of a tiny shudder of distaste at the memory of her time spent living here under her aunt's despotic rule.