Oh, Wendy, if only you knew how I couldn’t possibly join these ENSA people.
Suzanne picked her way home after the rehearsal in the nightly blackout. Holding her torch pointing downwards, with its regulation cover of a double piece of tissue paper secured by an elastic band, it didn’t give more than the merest glow under the smothering blanket of pitch darkness. It was unnerving not seeing where she was going. Someone could jump out at her. Rob her of her violin. Fear crawled over her scalp. She was being childish, she knew, but she’d always hated the dark and dreaded this twice-weekly walk. Wendy lived in completely the opposite direction. Sometimes one of the other members who lived further down her street, a kind elderly gentleman, accompanied her. But he hadn’t shown up this evening.
I hope he’s not poorly or had an accident, she thought, as she stumbled along.
Something brushed against her leg. She bit back a scream. Dear God, what was it? ‘Who’s there?’ Her voice shook as her fingers gripped the violin case tighter. There was a plaintive mew. Then she saw a pure white cat slink into a side alley between some houses. Berating herself for being so nervous, she couldn’t help smiling. People nowadays often tied a white band over their coat at night so they didn’t get run over in the blackout. This cat carried its own permanent safety covering as protection.
Suzanne kept close to the shop entrances where it was safer in an unexpected air raid. But a few steps further she heard her violin case bang against something. Damn! She shone the weak light onto the shape of a pillar box. If she wasn’t more careful she’d have a nasty accident. In the dark she glared at the offending torch, and in a moment of uncharacteristic rebellion she tore off the cover. Ah, that was so much better. A proper light. She could actually make out where she was going.
Calmer now, Suzanne turned her thoughts again to Wendy, and the piece of paper with ENSA’s address mocking her loyalty to her mother’s wishes.
She had to admit Wendy had come alive this evening. The young widow had seemed a romantically tragic figure to Suzanne, as she’d told her that her husband had been killed in the first month of fighting. But Suzanne had noticed Wendy’s fingers were ringless. Maybe they hadn’t been as happy as she’d imagined. Or maybe this was Wendy’s way of trying to shut out the dreadful tragedy of her past and look to the future. Well, whatever the reason it wasn’t her business.
She and Wendy had been drawn to one another as the two youngest members. Apart from rehearsals they’d been to the pictures occasionally, and last summer Wendy had invited Suzanne and a couple of friends for an afternoon tea in her garden. But tonight had been different. Wendy was suggesting something Maman would consider outrageous and the ruin of everything she had planned for her daughter. Her mother would never let her forget she’d paid out all that money for music lessons when they could ill afford it.
Oh, but how tempted she was. She’d never played jazz although she could listen to it all night. That evening – was it really two years ago? – she’d gone to the Palais with Raine, and Ivy Benson and her girls had shared the bill with another swing band. She hadn’t made up her mind which band she’d enjoyed most that evening, but she’d been particularly intrigued with Ivy Benson’s. That lady hadn’t been at all perturbed that she’d been barred from playing in a professional orchestra. She’d simply formed her own. And she and her girls had all looked as though they were thoroughly enjoying themselves that evening. Suzanne remembered how she’d almost wished she was up there playing with them. She wondered if they were also in this ENSA.
It was the same night she and her sister had met Alec Marshall, who’d made it clear he had his eye on Raine, and Raine had been so horrible to him. He’d said they didn’t even look like sisters and not just because Raine was dark-haired and Suzanne was blonde. It was because Raine had been so bad-tempered that evening. Suzanne smiled at the memory.
Her thoughts switched to Wendy again. Wendy, the violinist, becoming a singer in a band. How brave she was to try something so new. Jazz was so different with its strange, inconsistent beats … so fast and loud, but there was something about it that was infectious. Well, heady, if she was honest.
It started to rain. At first it was a drizzle but it intensified within minutes. Suzanne struggled to pull up the collar of her coat but failed as she couldn’t let go of the violin case or the torch. Water splashed down the back of her neck in cold rivulets. The damp seeped into her bones. Oh, why had she put her felt hat on this evening? It would be soaked and Maman would be annoyed with her. Hats, to Maman, were the key to being a lady. Suzanne’s shoulder bag slipped down her arm, the one carrying her violin case, and she tried to shrug it back up, all the time gripping her torch and shining it ahead so she didn’t smash into anything else.
‘What the devil are you doing waving that torch around?’
Suzanne startled, every muscle in her body rigid with the shock of a man’s voice from behind. Her heart thumped against her ribs as she set the violin case down to see who was being so rude. She knew she’d broken the law and that she might have to pay a penalty, but it had seemed worth the risk to get home safely. But it hadn’t paid off. Maman would be furious that she’d disobeyed the rules.
The next thing she knew was a light shining on her face. She blinked.
‘Don’t you know you’re supposed to keep your torch pointing downwards so you don’t give any signal to the enemy, young lady?’ When she didn’t answer he said, ‘I’m going to have to take your name and address.’
She was cold and tired and scared. Now this.
Something snapped inside her.
‘Who are you?’
‘The ARP warden.’
Without thinking she shone her own torch several inches up into his face and almost gasped aloud. He certainly didn’t look like Mr Draper, the village ARP warden. Quite the opposite, in fact. Much younger and much more attractive. She wondered if he was the one Ronnie was on about who’d first found Rusty. She lowered the beam.
‘Oh, I see why your torch was so bright,’ he said, glowering down at her. ‘You didn’t cover the glass.’
‘That’s right,’ Suzanne said firmly, sure of herself now. ‘It was covered when I left the village hall, but when I started walking home it was so pitch-black I couldn’t see where I was going and—’
‘But you know the law – don’t you?’ he interrupted, his tone remaining stern.
‘Yes,’ Suzanne admitted. ‘I also know the law says ARP wardens are supposed to be in uniform so the public know they’re dealing with an official. As you’re not wearing one, I have no idea who you are, so I will certainly not be giving you my name and address.’
She turned on her heel, but her foot caught the edge of the kerb. With a cry she tumbled to the pavement, still grasping the handle of her violin case, which banged on the concrete. Her torch flew from her fingers and she heard the tinkle of thin glass shattering.
‘I’m sorry, but I tried to catch you. Are you hurt?’
The man had crouched down beside her. His tone had changed to one of concern. She shook her head and tried to sit up. ‘My knee.’ She’d torn her stocking and she could see blood seeping through. But never mind the blood. They were her last good pair. Damn and blast! If he hadn’t stopped her she’d be home by now.
‘You need to get that knee seen to.’ Gently, he pulled her gloved fingers from the violin case.
‘My violin! Oh, I hope I haven’t damaged it.’ Tears of anger welled in her eyes. ‘It’s the second time I’ve banged it tonight.’
‘I don’t think it will have come to any harm. That’s what the case is for.’ She heard him set it down. ‘Here, let me help you up.’
Reluctantly, she took his hand and he hoisted her to her feet, then pulled her close to steady her. For a long moment she was aware of the strength of his arms. She felt her cheeks flush and was glad it was too dark for him to see.
There was a silence. Then he said, ‘Look, why don’t you come with me to my mother’s house. She only lives round the corner. Let me take you back and we’ll look at that knee. And you can check your violin is none the worse in a safer place than on the street,’ he added, invitingly.
Suzanne opened her mouth to say she would do all that when she got home. But her knee was throbbing alarmingly.
‘You’re right in one respect. I’m not a certified warden although I am one this evening.’ He pointed to a white armband with ‘ARP’ printed on it, which she could just make out. ‘Brian Draper asked if I could stand in for him a few days. He’s come down with the flu.’
Feeling more confident, Suzanne said, ‘So who are you really?’
‘James Mortimer, at your service. I’d give you a bow if you could see it.’
His voice carried a hint of amusement. It was so different from how he’d spoken to her at first, telling her off about her torchlight, that it threw her into confusion.
She knew the name. Maman had mentioned a Mrs Mortimer in her knitting group.
‘I’m in the Royal Navy, on leave at the moment and staying with my mother, so you’ll be perfectly safe.’
‘Thank you. It’s very kind of you, but I’m quite able to walk home now,’ she said, coolly, picking up her case. ‘Thank you for helping me but all I need now is my torch.’
‘I’ve got it, but I’m afraid it’s had it.’ He handed it to her. She glanced at the smashed glass and, furious with him and herself, shoved it in her pocket. ‘I don’t think you have any choice,’ he said. ‘It’ll be too dangerous to try to find your way home with a bad knee and no light at all. And unless you live nearer than two minutes away, my mother’s is the best option.’
She hesitated. He was right. She didn’t have any choice.
Biting back her annoyance, she said, ‘All right. Thank you.’ She hadn’t meant it to sound quite so churlish but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘And you’d better hang on to me. You don’t want to risk another fall.’
She felt for the crook of his arm and slipped her hand through it. She wished she could see his face again, but it was impossible. All she could do was limp alongside him, her hand gripping his arm like a lifeline, and him asking her once or twice if she was okay.
She was thankful when they rounded the corner and James Mortimer pointed to a house standing on its own and set back from the street, the windows carefully blacked out with blinds.
‘Here we are,’ he said. He took a key from his pocket and shone his torch for a split second on the front door. ‘Come on in.’ He helped Suzanne through and into the hallway. He hung his hat on a hat stand in the wide entrance hall where a light from a lamp on a table sent out a feeble glow.
Trying hard not to stare she couldn’t help noticing she hadn’t been wrong about his face, now enhanced by nut-brown hair, the front flopping over a smooth forehead, a strong nose and jaw, and intelligent grey-blue eyes, under dark brows.
Those eyes caught hers and he grinned.
‘Is that you, James?’ a voice called.
‘Yes, Mother. And I’ve brought someone to meet you.’
He took Suzanne’s arm and led her through one of the doors. She found herself in a large sitting room, where a woman who looked to be in her fifties, the same nut-brown hair in a carelessly pinned chignon, was sitting by a dying fire, embroidering. She immediately rose to her feet.
‘Hello, my dear. Won’t you come in?’ She turned to her son. ‘James, help the young lady off with that wet coat.’
‘I’m sorry it’s so late to barge in like this,’ Suzanne started, as James took her violin case and released her from the coat, ‘but—’
‘But she fell over and I was the knight in shining armour. Well, not at first, I’m afraid. I told her off for having her torch on full beam. She gave me a piece of her mind.’
Mrs Mortimer smiled at Suzanne. ‘He can be a bit too quick to judge sometimes,’ she said. ‘I do apologise if he was rude in any way.’
‘I think he was taking his new duty a bit too much to heart,’ Suzanne said, managing a smile.
‘Just like his father. Whatever he did, he had to do it perfectly. And James is exactly the same.’
Suzanne threw a glance at him and he grinned like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Don’t listen to Mother. She loves me really.’ He paused. ‘Here, let me take your hat. It looks rather a sorry sight from that downpour.’
‘Sit down by the fire – for what little warmth it gives with coal now rationed. You look frozen.’ Mrs Mortimer’s face was one of concern. ‘James, be a dear and pull that chair nearer.’
‘Oh, please don’t go to any trouble,’ Suzanne said, taking her hat off but keeping hold of it. ‘It’s getting late and my family will worry where I am.’
‘I think you must at least let us look at your knee before you go,’ James said. ‘Come and sit here and I’ll take a dekko.’ When she didn’t say anything, he said, ‘No need to worry about my credentials – I’m certified in First Aid.’
She’d have to roll down her stocking. No, she couldn’t do it in front of a man. As though Mrs Mortimer understood her hesitation, she said, ‘James, go and put the kettle on. She’s—’ She broke off. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear, I don’t know your name.’
‘Suzanne Linfoot.’
‘Oh, I know your mother,’ Mrs Mortimer said. ‘She comes and knits with us – shows us where we’re going wrong, even though we’ve all been knitting donkeys’ years longer.’ She laughed, but it was a nice laugh. ‘Are you on the telephone at home?’
Suzanne nodded.
‘Well, give me your number and I’ll ring her and tell her what’s happened. Then she won’t worry, and you can sit here and have a cup of tea. You’ve had a shock and I’m not sending you out again until I feel quite satisfied that you’ll be all right.’
‘It’s too much trouble,’ Suzanne began, but Mrs Mortimer wouldn’t hear of it, and a minute later she could hear Mrs Mortimer speaking to Maman.
‘There, that’s settled,’ Mrs Mortimer said, coming back into the room and reclaiming her chair. ‘I told her James will see you home safely.’
‘Did I hear my name?’ James put his head round the door.
‘Yes, dear. I told Suzanne’s mother you’d go with her when she’s had her cup of tea and is fit enough to walk home.’
‘There’s no need, honestly,’ Suzanne said. ‘I’ll be perfectly all right.’
‘That’s as may be,’ James said, grinning, ‘but funnily enough, I was going that way myself later on this evening. I’ll just be a few minutes earlier, that’s all.’
Suzanne laughed at the absurdity. Why fight against them? They were being kind and fussing over her. She had to admit it was rather nice.
‘Anyway, kettle’s boiling. I shan’t be a minute.’ He disappeared again.
‘While he’s gone you can ease down your stocking,’ Mrs Mortimer said. ‘I should let him have a look. He really is good at first aid.’
Suzanne rolled down her stocking. Blood had seeped through the broken skin that was already swollen with an angry purple bruise emerging.
When James came back carrying the tea tray he glanced over to her, and his eyes dropped to her legs.
‘Good. I’ll have a look at that knee before I pour.’
He set the tray down and pulled up a low stool. Embarrassment flooding through her body, she thrust out her leg.
‘Hmm, that’s a nasty graze,’ he said. ‘A dab of TCP wouldn’t come amiss.’ He was back in an instant waving the familiar bottle and a white flannel.
‘You can’t beat it,’ he said, ‘but the sting is awful.’
‘The smell is bad enough,’ she said, smiling, but as the flannel soaked with TCP came into contact with the still-bleeding graze, she couldn’t stop her sharp hiss of breath.
‘Agggh, that really hurt.’
‘I have to be cruel to be kind,’ he said, looking up and meeting her eyes. ‘You know, Suzanne, now I can see you more clearly, I realise it was you I heard playing the violin solo the other evening in the village hall. Mendelssohn, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Suzanne said, irrationally pleased he’d heard the concert. ‘But I don’t remember seeing you.’ She wished she could have bitten the words back. He’d think her awfully forward.
But he didn’t seem to think anything of the kind. ‘I had to leave when the air-raid siren went off, so I only heard the first bit,’ he said. ‘That was my first day standing in for Brian Draper.’
‘Oh, I noticed someone leaving,’ Suzanne said, breaking into a mischievous grin.
‘Did you think I was rushing off to the shelter?’ James’s eyes were teasing. He was still looking up at her. ‘Well, I was, but not in the way you might have thought.’
‘N-no, of course not,’ she said, feeling her cheeks warm. ‘But even if you had been, I couldn’t blame you.’
‘Hmm. Your face tells me something different.’ He laughed again and gave another dab of the flannel.
‘Don’t take any notice of him,’ Mrs Mortimer said. ‘He’s a terrible tease.’ She looked over at the violin case. ‘You must be the musician in the family. Your mother’s always mentioning how talented you are. She’s very proud of you – I can tell. I was sorry to have missed the concert. I’d bought a ticket but had to do an extra shift at the Red Cross.’
‘That reminds me,’ James said, getting to his feet. ‘You wanted to check the violin hadn’t come to any harm. Do you trust me to open it and have a look? I’ve got quite a sharp eye.’
Suzanne nodded.
Carefully taking the violin from its case, he turned it this way and that, then held it up to the ceiling where the light fell in a weak pool on the instrument.
‘No sign of any dent,’ he said triumphantly, handing it back to her.
Taking him at his word, Suzanne laid the violin back in its case and snapped the clasps.
She found herself relaxing in the Mortimers’ company. There was no awkwardness in the conversation, considering she’d never set eyes on either of them before.
She finished the welcome cup of tea, then stood.
‘I really must go,’ she said, ‘but I can’t thank you both enough for your kindness.’
‘Pop in any time you’d like a chat, my dear,’ Mrs Mortimer said, rising to her feet. ‘If I’m home I’d love to see you.’ She picked up a pencil and jotted something down on the back of an envelope, then handed it to Suzanne. ‘Our telephone number,’ she said, the same grey-blue smiling eyes as her son lighting her handsome features. ‘So there’s no excuse. Come for a cup of tea … any time.’
‘I’d love to do that,’ Suzanne answered, picking up her coat and thinking she just might take Mrs Mortimer up on the invitation.
James immediately took the coat from her and helped her on with it. Her knee was sore and throbbing now but she mustn’t let them know. She felt as if she’d already overstayed her welcome.
‘Right, shall we go?’
She nodded. He opened the front door and they stepped out into the damp night.
James broke the silence. ‘At least the rain’s eased off.’
He insisted she hold his arm again, and this time he carried the violin case, his torch in the other hand. Grateful he’d set a gentle pace, she couldn’t resist glancing up at him.
‘I thought I was getting to know a lot of people by now,’ she said, ‘but I’ve never seen you in the village before.’
‘Probably because I’m rarely here. I’m based in Scotland.’
‘Oh.’
He didn’t elaborate so she didn’t pursue it. He obviously wasn’t allowed to say where. He asked her about her family and she briefly told him about Raine and Ronnie.
‘Sounds like Raine is doing a magnificent job in the war effort,’ he said.
‘She is. I wish I was doing something important to help as well.’
‘I’m sure it will happen. You’re still young.’
‘Not so young,’ she said defensively.
He grinned. ‘You are to me. I’m twenty-four in a few days. It feels ancient sometimes, especially in this damnable war.’ He looked at her. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t swear in front of a lady, but it is bloody damnable.’
Suzanne laughed. ‘At sixpence a go, that’s one-and-six you owe the swear box – even though I agree with you.’
He joined in her laughter. It was strange how perfectly comfortable she felt with him by the time they turned into her street. She almost wished their conversation could have carried on longer.
At the gate outside her small front garden he carefully set down the case.
‘Thank you for rescuing me, Mr Mortimer,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘It was very kind of you. And for administering the dreaded TCP.’
He chuckled. ‘It works, though. But I’ll only accept your thanks if you call me James.’
He gazed at her, then took her hand in his, and although the night air was cool, his fingers encircling hers were warm. For a mad moment she wondered what it would be like to feel his mouth on hers. She drew her hand quickly away.
‘I couldn’t very well mention this in front of my mother,’ he said, studying her face intently, ‘but even though it’s dark and a bit foggy, you do have the most incredible eyes, Suzanne. They’re like purple pansies.’
She smiled a little self-consciously. ‘My mother and sisters all have the same colour. Raine calls it the Linfoot trademark.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘Talking of mothers – do go and see mine. She meant it, you know.’
‘I know she did.’ Suzanne picked up the case. He stepped forward and opened the low front gate. She passed through and clicked it shut behind her, then turned to face him. ‘Goodnight – and thank you again … James.’
‘Goodnight, Suzanne.’ He looked directly at her. ‘I’m sorry I was a bit rough on you, but you do understand we have to keep strictly to the regulations.’
‘You were doing your job … even if you were in civvies,’ she added with a smile.
‘Touché.’ He smiled back and something stirred in her blood. ‘I hope we might bump into each other again.’
‘Perhaps we will.’
‘Then let it be soon because they don’t give me much time off.’ He touched his hat and strode away.
Her heart beating a little too fast, she rang the bell of her front door.
‘You had me worried to death,’ her mother said, as she let her in. ‘Come and take off those wet clothes. I want to hear all about Mrs Mortimer’s house.’
Chapter Four
‘Beatrice Mortimer is a widow with only one son,’ Simone remarked when Suzanne brought her in a cup of cocoa. She fixed her eyes on her daughter. ‘You know he is in the Royal Navy?’
‘That’s what he told me.’
‘An officer, I believe.’ When Suzanne didn’t reply, Simone persisted. ‘Suzanne, I warn you – you must not fall in love with him. He will be away at sea for long periods, and that is not good for the wife at home.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Suzanne rounded on her mother. Really, Maman was too dramatic for words. ‘I fell over. He took me to his mother’s to put some TCP on my knee. Then I had a cup of tea with them, and as I’d broken my torch in the fall, he kindly brought me home. He’s a total stranger. But you’ve already pegged me as his wife.’
‘These things can happen very quickly,’ Maman said, her eyebrows raised as she studied her. ‘Especially in times of war. And Mrs Mortimer is a powerful lady. She dominates the knitting class.’
‘She also works for the Red Cross.’
Maman raised her eyebrows. ‘You seem to know much about her,’ she said.
‘Well, there’s no need for you to read anything into the evening,’ Suzanne said firmly. She stood up. ‘I’m going to see Ronnie and Rusty, and then have an early night.’
Maman had made it clear that she was wary of the Mortimers. And although she loved her mother, it made Suzanne determined to take no notice of her opinion.
The rest of the week flew by and by the end of his probation period Rusty looked like a different dog. He was still thin but his ribs weren’t so prominent, and his head and the patches on his coat now lived up to his new name since Suzanne had helped Ronnie give him a bath in an old tin tub. No one had answered Ronnie’s ‘lost dog’ messages she’d pinned up on the board in the post office and village shop, but every time the telephone rang Suzanne noticed her sister jump up to take the call. And every time it was someone for Maman, Ronnie would hand over the receiver, a relieved grin on her face.
