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

‘I thought you could do with another cocoa and a fresh hot-water bottle before you go back to bed, sweetheart.’

‘I thought you’d gone to bed, I couldn’t find you anywhere.’

He put the tray on the sideboard before answering. ‘I was looking for the whiskey in the music room and heard you come in here. You shouldn’t have come down without your slippers.’ He tossed over the hot-water bottle and she caught it and hugged it eagerly. He was being very matter-of-fact for a man who was supposed to be devastated.

‘Thank you. I’ll take my drink up with me and leave you to have your whiskey in peace.’

He turned. ‘No, we need to talk. Sit over there. Do you want some of this?’ He gestured to the bottle in his hand. She shook her head and nervously perched on the edge of the sofa, not sure if she liked the new, authoritative Greg.

He strode across and handed her a mug and a plate with two mince pies. She took them both. How was she supposed to deal with these at the same time? She couldn’t put the plate on her lap as it was already occupied by the hot water bottle. She didn’t want anything to eat anyway, her stomach was churning and she felt a bit sick.

This was hardly a romantic interlude. In fact, it was far more like being summoned to the principal’s office. Not enjoyable at all. She pushed herself back and then put the plate down beside her. This meant he couldn’t sit there, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

He carried on over to the side table and then returned for his glass, mug and plate. He didn’t seem perturbed about the positioning of her mince pies and settled himself comfortably at the far end of the sofa.

‘Why did you come down, Ellie? Have you changed your mind about marrying me?’ His tone was even, as if he was speaking about the weather, not something so emotional as a rejected proposal.

‘I have and I haven’t.’ Two could play this game and she wasn’t going to allow him to boss her about. She took a sip from her cocoa trying to look nonchalant and hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

‘For God’s sake, don’t speak in riddles. I was suicidal an hour ago and intended to drink myself into a stupor.’ He no longer looked calm – in fact he looked desperate.

She put her drink down and launched herself towards him. ‘I’m sorry, I do want to marry but not until after the war. I love you and can’t bear to see you so unhappy.’

He met her in the middle, his face transformed by happiness, and pulled her onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and when he kissed her his mouth was hard, demanding, his tongue pressed against her closed lips until she opened them allowing him access. Her skin was on fire and when he slid his hand underneath her pyjama top she didn’t protest.

Then, abruptly, he raised his head. ‘I’m squashing your mince pies, sweetheart, you’d better move before we ruin the sofa.’

He tumbled her from his lap and stood up. He peered over his shoulder and laughed. ‘What a waste – they didn’t deserve to be sat on.’

He carefully removed his dressing gown and together they scraped the mess into the fire. ‘Your virtue was saved by a mince pie, darling, I bet there aren’t many girls who can say that.’

‘Good thing they were on a plate, there’s nothing to see on the sofa. I didn’t think I wanted one, but I’m hungry now so can I share yours?’

Solemnly he held out his plate and she resumed her place, but this time tucked her feet under her bottom. ‘As we’re now officially engaged, shouldn’t I have a ring on my finger?’ She waved her right hand at him.

‘Strangely enough I didn’t come down with it in my pocket. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’ His smile made her pulse skip. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I don’t care if we have a long engagement, as long as I know you’re waiting for me, that’s okay by me.’

*

Ellie overslept and when she eventually made it downstairs the house was empty – even Mrs B was absent. Hastily she pulled on her overalls and gumboots and ran out to see what she could do to make up for her tardy appearance. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas Day, that it was still snowing, the livestock must always come first.

The cows were almost milked, the pigs happily rootling in their troughs, and Mrs B was just returning from feeding the poultry, geese and ducks.

‘Merry Christmas, love, you go along indoors. No need to hang about out here as everything has been done.’

‘I’ve never been late before. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here as I promised I’d help you today.’

They scraped the worst of the snow from their boots, kicked them off and then removed their overcoats. Ellie hung up her overalls hoping everyone else would be as forgiving as Mrs B about her laziness.

‘I’ll get the breakfast as you had to do my job.’

‘There’s no need, Ellie, it’s boiled eggs and soldiers this morning. We need to leave room for our Christmas dinner.’

‘In which case, Mrs B, I’ll light the fires everywhere.’

The sitting room wasn’t icy, the fire she’d revived in the middle of the night was still smouldering and clearing out the ash from underneath the grate and getting it burning merrily again didn’t take long. The dining room and music room fires were laid and she just had to put a match to the newspaper scrunched up underneath the kindling.

There was enough woodland on the farm to keep them in logs all winter. Dad bought in coke for the Aga and coal for the house fires as this gave more heat than logs and kept the fires burning for longer.

She’d paid special attention to her outfit