I'll Get By (18 page)

‘What about the landlord . . . will he mind?’

‘The rental agent said the owner is overseas, and has no intention of turning the place into bed-sitters. Anyway, I don’t see why he should mind, since you’re already living here. It’s not as though the place is going to be altered. We’re just using the space we already rent.’

‘I’m going to miss your cooking.’

‘We can leave that arrangement as it is. I can cook for both of us, and deliver it via the dumb waiter if need be.’

The cleaning of the place didn’t take as long as Meggie had expected, and they found enough oddments of kitchenware, china, cutlery and bed linen to keep them going. Judith set to work with a will. When they finished dragging a pair of beds down the stairs between them, they gazed at their domain with pride.

Leo came down to fix the blackout curtains in place later.

‘What do you think of the place now, Leo?’

‘I especially like those white tiles on the wall, it reminds me of an operating theatre. The pair of you have excellent design skills. The copper pot looks pretty, it would hold a gallon of stew.’

‘Except it’s got a hole in it and the handle is loose. But other than that . . . how does it look?’

‘I don’t know what effect you were trying to achieve, but it looks exactly like a cleaned-up kitchen. You’ll be able to sleep on top of the stove in the winter to keep warm. Don’t the Nepalese do that? And they bring their donkeys, sheep and oxen inside so they don’t freeze to death. I’ll keep a look out for a couple of oxen as a house-warming gift.’

Meggie exchanged a glance with Judith and grinned. She’d warned her new friend to expect only honesty from Leo, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell a small, white lie. ‘Wonderful, because that’s the effect we were aiming for. By the way, the couch has only got three legs. Can you fix it for us?’

‘I’m a doctor not a carpenter. I suppose I can find a brick to prop it up with from somewhere.’ And he did.

Gradually they got used to their odd accommodation, and added a few small comforts, such as a rug, a plant in a pot, and a ginger kitten that someone left at the door in the middle of the night. They called him Jack Frost because he was frozen half to death.

When the kitten recovered from his ordeal, Leo announced his intention to fix him. ‘We don’t want him to spray everywhere, or wander off and add to the stray cat population. He’ll feel sorry for himself for a couple of days, but if you make a fuss over him he’ll soon get over it.’

And so it was done, and Jack Frost became a lap cat, though his hunting instincts remained.

Judith came home with bits and pieces of greenery and planted them in pots. Soon they had a flourishing herb garden on the window sill. Meggie got on well with Judith. She was quiet and thoughtful, and had a sense of humour, so was pleasant company.

One morning Leo sought Meggie out and said casually to her, ‘I’ve joined the RAF.’

‘As a pilot?’

He nodded.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. How does Esmé feel about it?’

‘I haven’t told her yet. I’m going to tonight, before dinner. I wanted to see you first though, because I won’t be home much from now on. Could you be there when I tell her? She might get upset.’

Meggie nodded, thinking that it might be an understatement. She gave him a hug.

It turned out not to be as bad as Leo had been expecting, though Esmé gave a little cry. ‘Why you, Leo? The hospitals need doctors as well, and you’re one of the best.’

‘Why me? Because I’m a pilot as well, and because the kids I train only get the minimum of flying hours before they go off to defend the country; to defend us . . . you . . . me . . . Meggie, and all the people we love. You should see them, Es . . . young men who’ve just got their wings and are full of spit and vigour and heroic deeds. They’re just babies. Many of them don’t make it back, and those who do are quickly disillusioned. For every one of those brave boys who don’t return, I’ve died a thousand deaths for them when I check the lists.’

‘You got that little speech from that film we saw the other evening.’ It seemed to Meggie that her aunt mentally stamped her foot, but the heat had gone from her voice when she said, ‘And don’t you dare talk patriotic sense to me when I’m trying to be angry with you.’

Leo spread his hands and offered her a little grin. ‘It was because you cried throughout the speech. Don’t be angry my love. We all have to do our bit in the best way we can. I need to set them an example. First I’ve got to do a couple of weeks training at Uxbridge.’

The fight went out of her and tears filled her eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you intended to do before?’

‘Because I knew you’d try and stop me, and besides, I couldn’t bear to see you cry, my darling girl, which is why I’ve brought Meggie up to mop up after you. The bombing raids are only going to get worse and I want you to go to Dorset and stay with Livia till the war is over.’

When Leo took her in his arms, Esmé scolded, ‘Absolutely not! If you think you can butter me up, think again, because you haven’t got a cockroach’s chance in a lava flow of succeeding. I’m going to stay right here in this house so you’ve got someone to come home to when you can make it. Besides, I promised Livia I’d look after Meggie.’ A pale smile came her way, but Esmé’s cheeks were flagged with patches of colour that told Meggie her aunt was gathering her resources together. ‘Not that you need babysitting, but we’ll look after each other, won’t we, Meggie?’

Her nod brought a dirty look from Leo, who was still stating his case. ‘You know this is the right thing for me to do, Es.’

Esmé’s voice softened. ‘Leo, darling . . . right or wrong I know your heart’s in the right place, and it’s typical to your way of thinking. So go and do it. There’s nothing I can do to prevent it, now.’ She reached up and touched his face. ‘Listen now . . . I’ve got something damned important to tell you, and I’d planned to have a candlelit dinner to go with it.’

‘I haven’t forgotten our anniversary, have I?’

‘No, and I’d still love you even if you had, since you’ve forgotten the previous ones. We’re going to have a baby in a few months and I want it to grow up with a father and mother in Australia, like you promised. So you’d damned well better be careful.’

‘A baby . . .? Jeez, Es. You certainly know when to hang an anchor on a man! Did anyone ever tell you that your timing is total crap? No wonder you’ve been looking a bit fragile lately. I had suspected.’

‘
My timing?
What a cheek. I didn’t create the situation all by myself, you know.’

A smile edged across his mouth. ‘No, you didn’t. When was the last time I told you how much I adored you?’

‘I told you not to butter me up, Leo Thornton . . . I think it was this morning . . .’ She gave up trying to dodge a swarm of small kisses with a sigh of defeat.

Meggie grinned. ‘I think I’ll go and start on the dinner. It’s rabbit casserole.’

Her aunt had stars in her eyes, and as she didn’t think that either of them had heard her Meggie turned and left them to it, thinking that Leo could charm the warts off a dog’s tail if he felt like it, and without even trying.

The Atlantic convoys were being increasingly harried by German U-boats and the loss of life was heartbreaking. It seemed as though Meggie and Judith were being called on to attend memorial services at Westminster Abbey every other Sunday. The whole of England knew that something was in the offing and there was a general uneasiness in the air.

Early in June, the prime minister, Winston Churchill, inspired everyone with his speech to the nation. Afterwards, every man, woman and child in the street felt like a hero who could stand against the foe.

The amount of suspicious messages coming through the office increased, hidden in newspaper articles, crosswords and radio broadcasts . . . even music. Once solved, they were sent for further analysis to Bletchley Park, the central code-breaking unit. Photographs were minutely examined. Meggie was especially vigilant now Leo had taken to the air as a fighter pilot.

Her boss spent less time in his office and more time in helping to decipher messages. Meggie was very aware of him, and it was a relief when another assistant was taken on, a rather taciturn man called Joseph Bruch, who spoke with an accent and was endearing, but in an old-fashioned scholarly way. He arrived and left on the dot, shuffling off towards his one-room flat.

One day he didn’t turn up, and Judith told her he’d been killed in a raid. He wasn’t replaced.

By July the sky was so full of aircraft they resembled a swarm of flies, so if that hadn’t alerted them before, everyone now knew something was going on. The fat barrage balloons, designed to prevent enemy aircraft coming in low were a comforting sight.

Leo was lucky if he got home at all. On those rare occasions when he did, he fell into bed and slept heavily. Casualties were heavy, and Esmé lived in dread of receiving a telephone call from Biggin Hill, or a telegram.

They used the upstairs gas for cooking while Meggie and Judith hoarded their coal ration to keep for the stove in winter, for they’d discovered that the water it heated circulated through the radiators and provided the house with warmth. They also bought bundles of wood collected from bombed houses by enterprising children.

Lord Cowan, who’d previously had very little to say to her, and spent more time out of the office than he did in, cornered her one day. ‘How are you getting along, Margaret?’

‘I find the work a little . . . well, different to what I expected, I suppose. I worked in a legal office before, and it was so varied, and there was always something going on.’

‘I expect there was.’ He shrugged. ‘Believe it or not, what we do here is a small, but useful part of a cog.’

‘Yes . . . I suppose it must be, else we wouldn’t be doing it.’

‘Does Judith enjoy her job?’

‘Yes . . . I think so. We tend not to talk about work when we’re at home.’

His expression became one of approval. ‘It’s best not to get involved in office politics. I understand you’re renting a flat with her.’

‘My aunt and uncle have allowed us to live in the basement flat of the home they rent. We just help pay for the utilities.’

He picked up a pencil and gazed over her shoulder at the crossword she was working on. She was aware of him and because of it, stiff and uncomfortable. He smelled of expensive, sandalwood soap, and his nails were manicured. His breath tickled her ear as he murmured, ‘A weaver tells a story? The obvious answer is?’

‘Spins a yarn.’

He filled it in, his letters backward sloping. ‘What can we make out of that, Margaret?’

‘That someone with the code name of spider has been telling lies.’

‘Or the Bayeux tapestry is embroidered from wool on linen, not woven. Did you know that?’

‘No, but that will give someone a headache,’ she said and laughed. ‘What about, my stockings have a ladder in and need darning?’

‘I’ll get you some new ones. Perhaps you’d like some French perfume, as well.’

‘I don’t think so, sir. It’s not my birthday. Besides, the navy provides stockings.’

‘In fifteen denier nylon? I can lay my hands on practically anything I want, including your stockings. I know a lot of people who have many fingers in many pies.’

He grinned when she gave him a surprised look, and said, ‘Unless you want a good slap, you’d better keep both your fingers and hands off my stockings.’

‘Miss Elliot, I’m surprised at you.’

‘I doubt it.’ She hoped he didn’t seriously want to lay hands on her, not because the thought didn’t appeal, but because she wouldn’t know how to handle it.

Much to her relief he threw the pencil down and straightened up, laughing. ‘I wonder what it will take for me to tempt you.’

‘Why should you want to? You’re left-handed, aren’t you?’

She remembered the crossword on her bed, and the burglar who’d completed the last clue. The handwriting had been that of a left-handed person. A shiver ran through her and she gazed at Nicholas Cowan’s feet. His shoes were black. How silly to imagine this perfectly decent and normal person, who was not only a peer, but also held a responsible position in the war office, was a burglar. To start with, he wouldn’t need the money, and there were many left-handed people around.

‘Yes, I’ve always been left-handed.’

She laughed. ‘I imagine you have.’

‘I’ve got a proposition for you, Margaret, something you might like. My father is sending me half a sheep from the farm tomorrow. It will be much too much for one man and a couple of servants. I’d hate for it to go off, and I thought you and Judith might like to have the leg. My maid will be picking it up from the station Saturday morning, and she can deliver it to your door.’

A whole leg of lamb! ‘Now that would be wonderful.’

‘There’s a condition. Perhaps you’d invite a lonely man to Sunday dinner. Your aunt and uncle are welcome to join us, of course.’

‘I don’t know about my uncle. He’s working round the clock.’

‘He’s a doctor, isn’t he?’

How had he known that? ‘He’s also a pilot in the RAF for the duration.’

‘Well . . . I have no objection to having dinner with two lovely ladies.’

‘Three. Judith will be there, as well. The four of us share our food rations, and the cooking. It cuts down on fuel. We can’t really afford to entertain.’

‘How stupid of me not to think of that. Not to worry, my dear. I’ll make sure you don’t have cause to make inroads on your rations.’

Meggie would rather not have dinner with him on her day off, despite the thought of a delicious joint of lamb sizzling in the oven. However, she couldn’t really turn him down without creating an atmosphere. And she couldn’t help wondering why he didn’t simply invite them to dinner at his house. ‘I’ll have to ask my aunt if she’ll mind.’

Nicholas Cowan’s eyes glinted when he said coolly, ‘I’ve never known anyone turn their noses up at a leg of lamb before. I’ll give you my phone number. Perhaps you could let me know if it’s convenient.’

The conversation came to an end when Gordon came in. Lord Cowan went to his office and closed the door rather loudly.