Authors: Lily Baxter
‘I can barely remember what Raif looks like.’
‘But Gil doesn’t know that. He’s like all men, he wants to sweep you off your feet and feel he’s the only one in the world for you.’ She flicked ash into the dying embers of the range. ‘I know, because I’ve waited long enough for Jack to see me as a woman. Of course he’ll never forget Izzie, but life goes on.’
Miranda stared at her in amazement. ‘I always knew you liked him, but I didn’t think it was anything serious.’
‘Well, there you are,’ Rita said triumphantly. ‘You can’t see what’s beneath your nose.’
‘So are you and Jack a couple now?’
Rita stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘Filthy habit. I’ve promised Jack that if he manages to stay alive, I’ll give up smoking, and then we’ll see.’
‘You mean he’s asked you to marry him?’
‘You don’t think it’s too soon after Izzie’s death, do you?’
Miranda leapt up to give her a hug. ‘No, of course
not
. She adored Jack and she wouldn’t have wanted him to mourn forever.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
‘I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I’ve been blind. I think it’s wonderful and you’re just what he needs. Have you set a date?’
Rita shook her head. ‘Not yet. We’ll have to join the queue. It’ll be Tommy and Joan who tie the knot first, then me and Jack. It’s up to you what happens next.’
Tommy and Joan were married in August 1944 with Viv, Rita and Miranda as bridesmaids. The reception for just a few close friends was held in the Frampton Arms. Rita was showing off a large diamond and sapphire engagement ring, and Viv had a burly army sergeant in tow. Miranda was very conscious that she was the only one without a partner, but she was determined not to allow her personal feelings to spoil Joan’s big day.
She had continued to write to Gil but he had not replied to any of her letters, and although Fliss wrote occasionally her scribbled notes were brief and contained very little information other than the fact that she was engaged to Robert Forbes. She said that Gil was progressing quite well and Miranda had to be content with that. She had thought about visiting him at the convalescent home, but it was not simply pride that held her back. She was afraid he might have met someone else during their long months of
separation
. After all, Captain Forbes had fallen in love with Fliss, and Gil would have been surrounded by attractive young women who tended to his every need. Miranda had never felt so helpless or so completely alone.
Jack and Rita were married in the local church at the beginning of May and once again Miranda and Viv were bridesmaids. Joan was heavily pregnant and had declined Rita’s invitation to act as matron of honour, saying with a wry smile that it would take a mile of parachute silk to make a dress that would fit her and she would still look like a Zeppelin. She attended the service but stole the limelight at the reception in the church hall by going into labour. Tommy had to rush her to hospital, where she gave birth to twin boys.
Rita and Jack spent their one night honeymoon in a hotel on Weymouth seafront, and Rita returned to work the next day. She found Miranda in the workshop mending a puncture. ‘Fancy having to come back to this dump,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘Especially when I’m supposed to be the blushing bride.’
Miranda cast a sideways glance in her direction. ‘You’ve never blushed in your life, Rita Platt, I mean Mrs Beddoes.’
‘Doesn’t that sound lovely?’ Rita gazed into a fly-blown mirror above the workbench. ‘We’ll have a proper honeymoon when it’s all over,’ she
said
, grinning broadly. ‘It’s not as if it was our first time.’
Miranda held up her hand. ‘I really didn’t need to know that, thanks.’
‘It’s about time you stopped being a vestal virgin, Manda. Have you done anything about seeing Gil? He must be well and truly on the mend by now, or have you given up?’
‘No, I haven’t given up as you put it. I had a letter from Fliss yesterday as it happens. She told me that Gil expects to be allowed home quite soon. He’s going to work for the family firm as soon as he gets his discharge from the RAF.’
‘So what are you going to do about it?’
Miranda shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I last saw him and he hasn’t bothered to answer my letters. Maybe he was trying to tell me that his feelings had changed, but didn’t know how to break it to me.’
‘And you’re an idiot if you believe that.’
‘Shut up, Auntie Rita.’
‘Oo-er,’ Rita said, chuckling. ‘I hadn’t thought about being your aunt, but as I am you’d better pay attention to me, my girl.’
Miranda stuck her tongue out and walked over to the bicycle with the tyre slung over her shoulder.
‘Oh, very adult,’ Rita called after her. ‘I’ll have to report you to your uncle.’
Miranda came to a halt as Viv raced into the workshop. ‘It’s over, girls. The bloody war’s over.
I
just heard it on the wireless in the mess.’
The news took some assimilating at first. After more than five years it seemed almost impossible that the conflict in Europe was at an end. Miranda, Viv and Rita were demobbed relatively quickly as their services were no longer needed, and Joan was already a full-time housewife and mother. Tommy had found them a cottage in one of the outlying villages and he was just waiting for his papers so that he could apply for a job as an ambulance man. Jack and Rita had moved into Highcliffe until they could find a more permanent home, although Jack had to travel daily to the aerodrome while he waited for his demob to come through.
Miranda was under pressure to move back to London and live with her mother, who had rented a small flat in Chelsea until the rebuilding of their house in Woodford was completed. Jeanne had returned to the War Office with promotion and a considerably higher salary. She suggested that Miranda might apply for the job of copy typist in her department, but Miranda could not see herself settling down to work in an office. She was no longer the carefree young girl who had left London at the beginning of the war. She had changed and nothing was the same. There was no going back for her, but she could not see the way forward. She left the castle and all its memories, closing the door on that part of her life, and returned to Highcliffe.
Her grandparents were delighted to welcome her
home
, but they were busy all day and Rita spent most of her time house hunting, which left Miranda alone with Annie and Dickens, neither of whom had much in the way of conversation. Annie’s main topics were rationing and Elzevir, who was always doing something to upset her. Miranda knew she ought to be looking for work, but she could not settle down to anything. She spent her days helping about the house and in the garden.
She was busy weeding the vegetable bed one morning in preparation for planting lettuce seed when she heard a footstep on the gravel path. She looked up and saw Jack coming towards her. ‘Hello. Why aren’t you at work?’
‘You haven’t heard, have you?’
‘What haven’t I heard?’
‘He’s home. Raif arrived back at Thornleigh Court yesterday.’
Miranda scrambled to her feet. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely certain. It was in the local paper.’
‘Then it must be true.’
‘I’ve got the rest of the day off and I’m going to see him. I feel it’s only right that I should tell him about Rita and me before he hears it from someone else. I know he cared a lot for Izzie and I don’t want him to think I’ve betrayed her memory.’
‘I suppose that’s the right thing to do, but why are you telling me all this?’
‘I’d like you to come with me, Miranda. Just for moral support, of course.’
She was going to refuse, but she knew she must face Raif at some point. ‘Okay, if you really want me to.’
They drove to Thornleigh in the newly resurrected Chloe. The house had survived, even though the parkland had been ploughed up to grow crops and the American army had requisitioned it as a base for the duration. They had left now, with only the marks of caterpillar tyres scarring the ground to bear witness to their occupation of the old house.
Miranda was suddenly nervous as Mrs Beasley showed them out onto the terrace, but Raif greeted them civilly enough, and Jack did all the talking. She was free to observe Raif closely and she could see a change in him that went deeper than the pallor of his skin and the gauntness of his face. He seemed to have retreated to an inner world where no one and nothing could intrude upon his deepest thoughts. He listened politely to everything Jack said, but his lean fingers drummed incessantly on the wrought-iron table and he seemed ill at ease.
‘So you don’t mind that I’ve remarried,’ Jack said as he finished his carefully prepared speech. ‘You don’t think it’s too soon?’
Raif shook his head. ‘One thing I’ve learned in all this is that life goes on, if you’re lucky. You have to do what is best for you.’
‘What about you, Raif?’ Miranda said softly. ‘Have you any plans for the future?’
He flicked a sideways glance at her but he did
not
look her directly in the eye. ‘It’s early days, but I think I might just stay here and manage the estate. Our chap bought it at El Alamein and the place has gone to rack and ruin during the war.’
‘I never thought of you as a farmer,’ Miranda said, smiling.
‘Nothing is the same now.’ Raif raised himself from his seat, holding out his hand. ‘Thanks for coming to see me, Beddoes. I don’t suppose we’ll meet very often, but I think we should put the past behind us. My father has retired and he and Mother are going to live in the States.’
Jack stood up and shook his hand. ‘You’re right. It’s time that peace was declared between the Carstairs and the Beddoes clans.’
Raif turned to Miranda, meeting her gaze with a shadow of a smile. ‘Goodbye and good luck, Miranda. Grab any chance you get for happiness.’ He turned and walked into the house, leaving them staring after him.
She rose to her feet. ‘What was all that about?’
‘I think it was his way of ending a chapter in his life and yours.’
‘Is that why you brought me here today?’
‘Blame Rita. It was her idea.’
‘I’ll have something to say to her when I see her again.’
‘Thank you would be good. She’s done you a favour, because I don’t think there ever was anything serious between you and Raif. It was a bit of a
romantic
myth – Capulets and Montagues and all that rot. Mother’s affair with Max made it all seem inevitable, but it wasn’t.’
Miranda smiled as she followed him towards the car, which was parked outside the main entrance. ‘You’ve grown quite wise in your old age, Jack.’
He stopped and waited for her to catch up, linking her hand through his arm. ‘And you’ll take the first opportunity to go to that convalescent home and knock some sense into your chap’s head.’
‘I will,’ she said meekly. ‘I’ll be on the first train tomorrow morning.’
‘I’ve been saving my petrol ration for just such an important occasion. I’ll drive you there myself. We’ll pick Rita up first and be on our way before you have second thoughts.’
The convalescent home was situated at the edge of a pretty Hampshire village. The house itself was set in well-kept grounds surrounded by trees and manicured lawns. Jack and Rita had dropped Miranda at the gates, intending to find a pub where they could get some lunch, with a promise to return later. The delicate colours of early summer made everything seem vital and alive as she walked between the rows of late flowering cherry trees. Their petals fell like confetti on the gravel drive and the air was filled with birdsong.
Miranda had telephoned and made an appointment to see the matron, but she had asked her not
to
warn Gil of her coming in case he refused to see her. She rang the doorbell feeling as nervous as a child on her first day at school. She was excited at the thought of seeing Gil, but also scared. The suspense was physically painful.
The door was opened by a young girl wearing a white pinafore and cap. She smiled shyly. ‘Can I help you, miss?’
Miranda explained that she had arranged to see the matron and the maid scuttled off to find her, giving Miranda time to observe her surroundings. She had feared that the ambience might prove to be cold and clinical but she felt as though she had just entered someone’s much-loved home. The highly polished furniture was elegant but not too formal, and vases filled with white lilac and crimson tulips made bright statements of colour against the dark oak panelling. The appetising aroma of baking wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the heady scent from a bowl of pink hyacinths on the hall table.
The matron duly appeared and led her into a small office off the main hall. She motioned Miranda to take a seat. ‘I wanted to speak to you before I let you see him,’ she said, smiling. ‘Gilbert is one of my favourite clients. We don’t call them patients, and as you see we don’t wear uniform.’ She indicated her smart silk afternoon dress with a wave of her well-manicured hands. ‘We try to keep everything as informal as possible. I haven’t told him that you were coming, as you requested, but please be aware
that
he, like so many other brave young men, has come through an extremely traumatic experience. He is fully recovered physically, but he needs to regain confidence in himself. Handle him with kid gloves, Miss Beddoes.’
‘Of course. May I see him now?’
‘You’ll find him in the arbour at the end of the rose garden. It’s quite private there.’
Gil was seated, as the matron had said, on a rustic bench beneath an arch festooned with early roses. He was reading a book, but as Miranda trod the gravelled path he looked up, and his face lit with a smile that went straight to her heart. He stood up to greet her and she ran towards him. Forgetting all her good intentions she flung her arms around his neck. Their lips met in a tentative kiss and realising what she had done Miranda drew away. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.’
He took her hands in his. ‘Never say sorry to me, Miranda. I’ve been a stubborn fool, but I didn’t know how to make amends for my stupidity. I’ve been hoping that you’d come, but I was afraid to ask in case you’d changed your mind about us.’