Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 by Fenella Miller (top 10 ebook reader txt) 📗

This didn’t sound particularly controversial – in fact these questions sounded sensible.

‘However much I dislike my family and my father, when he dies I’ll have to take over the estates. The damn things are entailed so I have no choice. Believe me, I’d cut myself off entirely if I could.’

‘I can’t see Ellie swanning around as lady of the manor. I take it she didn’t react well to your answers.’

‘It was the worst five minutes of my life. She was in floods of tears but nothing I could say would convince her that if we loved each other enough we could make it work.’

‘Sorry to hear that, but I shouldn’t give up just yet. When she’s had time to think about it, realises that life without you would be a bloody sight worse than having to live in a stately home, she’ll come around.’

Greg shook his head. ‘I can’t marry her knowing she might well be as miserable with me as her mother was with Fred. I love her too much. No, I’ve got to let her go.’

When he switched out the light he said quietly. ‘With any luck I’ll get shot down and she can get on with her life.’

‘Don’t be so bloody daft, man, that’s no way to talk. If you go on a mission with that attitude you’re bound to go for a Burton. You’ve got two blokes in that kite with you – think about them.’

The bed creaked and the light went back on. ‘I need a drink. I brought a bottle of Courvoisier and Johnny Walker as my contribution to Christmas. I’m sure Fred won’t mind if we open one of them.’

‘I never say no to a drink.’

Neither of them had brought anything apart from pyjamas but someone had thoughtfully supplied what they needed. Jack shrugged into his dressing gown and pushed his bare feet into the slippers.

They crept along the passageway like burglars and he was sure neither Ellie nor Fred would have heard them. Greg went ahead of him to find the whiskey and he paused in the passageway outside her bedroom.

There was no sound of her crying so maybe she wasn’t as upset as Greg had thought. He thought a mug of coffee would go down a treat with the whiskey, and maybe a couple of mince pies too.

‘Where are you going?’ Ellie spoke from right behind him and he almost fell down the stairs.

‘Greg and I are going to have a glass or two of whiskey. He’s devastated and wants to drown his sorrows.’

She was looking remarkably cheerful for a girl with a broken heart. ‘I’m going to join you. I think I overreacted, which was a bit silly. There’s no reason why we can’t be engaged and see how it goes, is there?’

‘None at all. I’ve changed my mind; you go down and I’ll go to bed. You don’t need me playing gooseberry whilst you make things up.’

Her smile was radiant and she stretched up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a good friend, Jack, I’m so glad that you’re part of this family now.’

He was glad for them, and if he was honest, also a bit envious. He doubted he would ever find a girl like her for himself.

*

Ellie was wearing her comfortable, but highly unflattering, flannelette pyjamas. She hadn’t stopped to put on her dressing gown or slippers. When she’d heard footsteps outside her bedroom door she’d thought for a moment it was Greg coming to comfort her. When they’d continued past her door she’d come out to investigate.

Was Jack correct? Would she be able to put things right with Greg? As she scampered down the stairs her heart was pounding and her feet were already frozen from walking on the uncarpeted boards. Apart from the sitting room, which had a threadbare rug in the centre of the room, the other floors were flagstones. Not ideal for somebody with bare feet.

The kitchen was deserted – where was Greg? He must be looking for the whiskey which Mrs B had put in the scullery along with the other drink that had been left over from the last party. He’d never find it on his own.

She was so cold she might as well nip in and collect the whiskey for him. The best glasses were kept in the sitting room so that was no need for her to hang about any longer. With the precious bottle in one hand she dashed through the house desperate to get onto the carpet.

The room was unoccupied. Before she did anything else she was going to thaw out and she would need to stir up the fire to do that. She chucked a few bits of kindling onto the glowing embers and they caught immediately. Within a few moments there were welcome flames and she tossed a couple of logs into the blaze. The socks she had stuffed full of little gifts were hanging a safe distance from the fire. Each one had the name of the recipient sewn on.

Her teeth were chattering and she bitterly regretted her impulsive decision to come down in just her pyjamas. She put the bottle of whiskey on the sideboard and got out one of the cut glass tumblers from the cupboard and put it next to the bottle.

Greg must have gone back upstairs whilst she was in the scullery. If he came down again at least he would be able to get himself a drink. She pulled a pouffe in front of the hearth and settled onto it and stretched out her legs towards the fire. She wanted to warm up a bit before she went back to bed.

After a while she was sleepy and her feet were no longer ice blocks. The chiming clock on the mantelpiece struck twelve. Christmas Day – and no one to say Merry Christmas to.

The rattle of crockery startled her and she scrambled to her feet just as the door was pushed open and Greg walked in