A Mistletoe Kiss (30 page)

Maria Thorpe nodded shyly. She was a meek, mouse-like little person in her mid-twenties with shiny light brown hair that was always escaping from the bun at
the nape of her neck, and pale, short-sighted blue eyes. Now, she smiled shyly at Hetty. ‘I've volunteered for the WAAF, Miss Gilbert, and today I had a letter saying I'd been accepted,' she said. ‘I'm to await another letter telling me where to go and when, but I asked the lady in the recruiting office and she said she thought I'd be gone soon after Christmas. So of course I had to tell Miss Preece, though I don't think they'll be able to get anyone in my place.'

‘And I was relying on you, Hetty,' Miss Preece said. ‘Oh, goodnight, Mr Gower; see you in the morning.'

Mr Gower gave the three women his usual thin smile and crossed the road, and as soon as he was out of hearing Hetty told the two librarians her own news. ‘We're to report to the Inland Waterways office the day after tomorrow,' she said. ‘Sally's done all the arranging; I've met this Alice Smith – she's nice, just as Sally said – so now we've got to get through the interview and the practical test, and then I suppose we'll move into whichever barge – boat, I mean – they've decided to let us take over. I'm thrilled, and so are the other two!' Hetty looked hard at Miss Preece. ‘You look very flushed.' She gave her friend a wicked grin. ‘Anything exciting in the post this morning?'

Miss Preece gave a non-committal answer, changing the subject quickly to what she meant to do if the library authority really could not find her an assistant. Turning to Miss Thorpe, she said: ‘But Mr Gower and myself managed before you joined us, so I dare say we can manage again. Of course it will be hard on a Saturday, though we may be able to get another
schoolgirl in on a temporary basis.' She turned her dark eyes enquiringly on Hetty. ‘Or will you have weekends off? If so, you could nip up from the docks and give us a hand.'

Hetty shook her head. ‘Not possible; the boat to which we shall be assigned will be plying on the Grand Union canal, a long way away from here. It would have been lovely if it had been on the Leeds and Liverpool, but there was no question of that.'

‘But of course you'll get leave, what my mother says they used to call furlough in the last war,' Miss Thorpe said. ‘You aren't allowed even an hour off – according to my cousin – when you first join up, but that's the Royal Air Force; it may be different for the canals.'

Hetty sighed. ‘This war is all wait and see,' she said resignedly. She looked up at Miss Preece. ‘I'm hoping you're going to invite me for supper. Aunt Phoebe was going to buy fish and chips, as it's her first day in the new house, and I told her not to get me any because I've no idea what time the ferries leave and if there's one thing I really hate, it's fish and chips which have gone cold and are put in the oven to warm up.'

‘Of course you're invited to supper,' Agatha Preece said at once. ‘I can just imagine what my mother would say if I didn't ask you to share our meal. She'll be desperate to hear all about the canal boat, too.'

They reached the corner where their way parted from Miss Thorpe's, and as soon as the assistant librarian had left them Hetty turned impulsively to her companion. ‘Go on, Agatha, tell me what's happened,' she urged.
‘I'm sure you've had a letter and I just hope it was good news.'

‘It is,' Miss Preece said, and Hetty saw a smile begin. ‘Max is coming up to Liverpool on Wednesday the twentieth. He's going to meet me from work and suggests that he should take Mother and myself out for a meal so he can get to know her. But he'll be in Liverpool all day Thursday – he's booked in at the Adelphi – and suggests that I take that day off so that we can spend it together. I'm really excited, Hetty, because although I know very well he's just a friend …'

Hetty gave a crow of amusement. ‘Just a friend indeed! Why are you so shy of admitting that he's something more? It's been clear as daylight to everyone but yourself that he likes you very much and wants to get to know you better. Is he coming here with his brother? Do you remember when he collided with you and was so … oh, so snooty.'

Agatha Preece sniffed. ‘I know nothing about his brother, nor do I want to,' she said loftily. ‘And as for Max being interested in me – as a woman, I mean – time alone will tell.'

Agatha awoke on 20 December as her alarm tinkled its morning message. For a moment she wondered why she felt so excited, then remembered. The professor was going to meet her from work and come back to Everton Terrace with her. She would introduce him to her mother, they would share a cup of tea and a chat, and then Max would take them back to the
Adelphi, where they would have a meal. When Mrs Preece was young she had often been taken to the Adelphi, but Agatha had never entered its imposing portals and told herself that she was looking forward to that experience almost as much as to seeing Max again after so long.

It was not true, of course. In fact her main feeling was a worry that after so long he might not recognise her. She guessed that it was why he had chosen to meet her from work. It would have been awkward if he had suggested coming straight to the house on Everton Terrace, because she knew her mother too well to expect that Mrs Preece would let them meet alone at the front door, even for five minutes. As soon as the doorbell sounded she would be toddling up the hall, elbow to elbow with her daughter, determined to see this man with whom Agatha had been exchanging letters, some of which Mrs Preece had read. After discovering that her mother knew where she had hidden her correspondence, Agatha had taken the letters to work and prised up a floorboard in the ladies' lavatory, secure in the knowledge that only herself, Maria and Hetty ever entered, since it was not available to the general public. Then she had placed the letters in a manila envelope, written her own name in large, clear capitals across it, and replaced the board.

Now, Agatha got out of bed, smiling at the mental picture she had just conjured up of herself and her mother trundling as fast as they could towards the front door, like a couple of racehorses stretching their necks as the winning post came in sight. But in fact,
she was rather dreading the meeting between Mrs Preece and the professor. Limping heavily along the landing to the bathroom, she just hoped that her mother would be on her best behaviour and would remember that the professor was her host. She went over to the gas geyser which hung above the bath, picked up the box of matches from the windowsill, struck one and turned on the gas. She hated this part of the proceedings, because if the gas blew the match out before being ignited, the whole business had to be gone through again, and the smell of gas frightened her. In the summer Agatha washed in cold water, but at this time of year she usually lit the geyser and had a shivery, strip-down wash, and since she could see through the window that the frost on the trees was undiminished, she knew that it was even colder outside than in.

The gas geyser, however, behaved beautifully for once and was now hissing away merrily. Agatha considered a bath, then decided against it. No need to give her mother ammunition; it would be just like her to greet Max by saying gaily: ‘Aha, you're the young man who is so important to my daughter that she takes a bath first thing in the morning and uses all the hot water, so that her poor old mother has to boil a kettle for her own ablutions.'

The fact that this would be untrue would be immaterial to her mother, but best to play safe and act as she always did. Accordingly, Agatha had a strip-down wash, then hastily donned her underwear and dressing gown and returned to her room, for the bathroom was icy. She had already selected a white blouse and dark
blue skirt and jacket and now she put them on, brushed her hair and picked up her handbag, then went downstairs. She had secretly hoped to reach the kitchen in time to make her breakfast – porridge this morning, as well as toast and coffee – before her mother put in an appearance, but old Mrs Preece must have heard her daughter lighting the geyser for no sooner had Agatha put oats, water and a couple of splashes of milk into the saucepan than the kitchen door creaked open and Mrs Preece hobbled across the room and picked up the loaf.

‘Morning, Agatha. I'll start the toast,' she said briskly. ‘I guessed you'd get up earlier than usual today, seeing as how your young man will be arriving in the city this evening.' She looked her daughter up and down with a gimlet eye. ‘You look very smart, dear. I've always liked you in dark blue.'

‘Morning, Mother,' Agatha said, hoping her disappointment did not show; it would have been so nice to read last night's
Echo
and eat her breakfast in peace, but clearly this was not to be. ‘I believe, however, that the professor is already in Liverpool, having caught the milk train at some ungodly hour this morning. Didn't I tell you?'

She knew she had not done so and acknowledged, though only to herself, that she had kept Max's arrival quiet because she did not want her mother doing anything embarrassing, such as ringing the Adelphi and demanding to speak to Professor Galera. When she had voiced this fear to Hetty, however, her young friend had shaken her head, putting such thoughts to
flight. ‘Your mother is a holy terror, but I don't believe she'd ever do anything to hurt you,' Hetty had said. ‘She might think it amusing to embarrass you, but she'd never go behind your back, let alone speak on the telephone to a man she's never met. Why, she's downright scared of the thing, which is why she held out when you wanted to have one installed.'

At the time Agatha had acknowledged the truth of Hetty's remark, and now, stirring porridge, she thought remorsefully that it had been too bad of her even to let such a thought cross her mind. But Mrs Preece did not seem to have taken offence because she had not been told the time of Max's arrival, and was whipping two slices of toast out from under the grill and reaching for the loaf to cut two more slices of bread.

‘Ah, then if he's here already you think he might surprise you and arrive at the library earlier than planned,' Mrs Preece said shrewdly. ‘Well, what does it matter, when all's said and done?' And then, to Agatha's surprise and pleasure, she added: ‘I'm proud of you, my dear. You do me credit. And though I wasn't too sure how I felt about it when you first had your hair cut, I like it now.'

Agatha had arranged with her assistant that she would leave ten minutes before the rest of the staff so that she and Max might meet by themselves. Accordingly, she bade Miss Thorpe goodnight and put on her thick winter coat, but she left her head bare since she was still afraid that the professor might fail to recognise her if she wore her hat. However, it was far too cold
to leave off her scarf, so she wrapped it round her neck as she left the library, descended the five steps with a thumping heart and looked anxiously around her.

She had been tempted to abandon her stick, to try to disguise her disability, but had decided that this would be sheer foolishness. Besides, it would be open to misinterpretation; the professor might think she intended to use his arm as a crutch. Indeed, she might be forced to do so, for though it was not a long walk from the library to Everton Terrace, a walk she did every working day, she went at her own pace and the professor, having longer legs, might stride out.

Agatha suddenly remembered that there were three entrances to the library; he might be waiting at any one of them. There were a number of people walking along the pavement, but the only person standing still was a tall man in an RAF officer's greatcoat and cap. Even as her eyes flicked over him, she did a double take and felt her heart quicken, for he was smiling and coming to meet her, a hand held out. Agatha limped towards him, transferring her stick from her right hand to her left, and presently they were shaking hands and she was telling him that for some reason it had not occurred to her that he would be in uniform. ‘But of course I recognised you,' she added hastily. ‘Apart from the fact that you're very brown, I don't think you've changed at all.'

‘Nor have you. You're as …' he looked down at her face and seemed to change his mind over what he had been about to say, ‘you're as neat and trim as I remember you,' he ended rather feebly. He made
as if to offer her his arm, and when she did not immediately slip her hand into the crook of his elbow added: ‘Do you prefer to go by tram to your home, Agatha? I would hail a taxi, but I haven't seen one with its flag up since I arrived here twenty minutes or so ago.'

‘I always walk to and from work; it's not far, only about half a mile,' Agatha said, horribly aware that her voice sounded stilted. ‘But if you've been hanging about in the cold for twenty minutes, perhaps you would rather catch a tram. I'm stuck in the library all day so I like to get a bit of exercise and fresh air when I leave the place.' They were standing on the pavement in front of the library and now she looked seriously up into the dark and craggy face above her own. ‘Why didn't you come in? It's warm in there.' She gave a little chuckle. ‘I know it's an old building and the radiators are old too, but they're pretty efficient. And there's a reading room equipped with a fair number of newspapers and magazines. You could have waited in there.'

The professor shook his head. ‘I didn't want to; I was afraid of missing you. But by all means let us walk. I could do with some exercise too.'

The two of them set off along the pavement and presently they reached Everton Terrace and Agatha slowed. Should she warn him that her mother could be difficult? But it seemed unfair to old Mrs Preece – and to the professor – to put him on his guard against something which might never happen. With her hand actually on the garden gate, she hesitated, then spoke. ‘My mother is what you might call a character,
Professor,' she said timidly. ‘When she's nervous, and meeting strangers always makes her nervous, she can become a little brusque. If this happens, I do hope you won't take it amiss.'