Cousins at War Read online

  Gracie had worried all morning about how to tell her niece and as soon as Joe came home for his lunch, she burst out, ‘Neil’s taking that Freda home with him. What am I going to do? It’s going to be an awful shock for Queenie, though she maybe doesn’t realise we know how she feels about him, and maybe it’s better to happen now rather than have her keeping on hoping, for it wouldn’t have been right for cousins to marry, though if Neil hadn’t fallen in love with Freda, he wouldn’t have listened to what anybody said.’

  Her husband had raised his eyebrows at the unexpectedness, and length, of her speech, but it only proved how distressed she was. ‘Calm down, Gracie,’ he soothed. ‘Just tell me, are you pleased about it, or no’?’

  ‘I don’t know myself and I wish I knew what this girl’s like. She could be common, for all we know, and not the kind of wife we’d like for Neil, but. . .’

  ‘Look, Gracie, if it’s her he wants for a wife, he’ll take her in spite of us and we’ll just have to accept her even though she’s as common as cat’s shit.’

  ‘Ach, Joe!’

  They both turned as Queenie walked in, and Joe said, ‘I’d better go to the lavvy before I take my dinner.’

  Aware that he was giving her the chance to tell her niece on her own, Gracie felt obliged to get it over as quickly as she could. ‘Neil’s taking Freda home with him next week.’

  There was the merest pause before Queenie said, rather too brightly, ‘So she’s definitely the one?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  ‘Well, I . . . just hope she’s good enough for him.’

  ‘That’s what I was saying to Joe.’

  Joe’s return was a relief to both women, and Queenie kept up a steady stream of chatter until it was time for her to go back to the university. The lectures that afternoon were completely wasted on her, but she did not allow herself the privilege of tears until she was alone late that night as Patsy was on night duty. There was no hope for her now she thought, mournfully. Neil was bringing Freda home to meet his parents which could only mean that he intended to marry her. But . . . maybe Freda wouldn’t fit in. Maybe he would see her in a different light when he was in his own home environment. Maybe there was still hope.

  Because Neil never referred to the all-important letter she had written weeks ago, Olive was in something of a quandary. Should she demand an answer or had she scared him off? She had tried to help him out, but it looked as if she’d spoiled things, and she would have to back pedal for a while, play hard-to-get. The magazines said that men always wanted the girls they couldn’t have so she would keep all her letters as short and impersonal as possible until he wanted her.

  Picking up her fountain pen, she began to write and when she went downstairs on her way to the pillarbox, her mother was laying down the phone. ‘That was Gracie.’

  ‘Has something happened to Neil?’ This fear was always at the back of Olive’s mind.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Hetty hedged, unwilling to upset the girl when she had been behaving so well. But what was the use of keeping it from her – she would find out soon enough. ‘He’s taking a girl home with him next week.’

  Olive’s face blanched. ‘A girl? But . . .’

  ‘I think it’s the girl who went to see him in hospital.’

  ‘Freda? But he stopped writing about her.’

  Sighing, Hetty decided to be blunt. ‘I know you’ve always liked him, maybe you even think you love him, but he doesn’t feel the same way about you . . . he never has. This was bound to happen some day and you’ll have to face up to it. You’ll feel hurt but please don’t spoil his leave for him.’

  Her pallid face tightening, Olive said, ‘I won’t spoil it, but I’m glad I got some warning.’

  Rushing upstairs, she ripped her letter into shreds, then thumped down on the stool of her dressing table. It was her own fault! If she hadn’t tried to force him to say that he loved her, he would never have thought of taking Freda home with him. He was doing it out of spite, he couldn’t love the girl. Olive looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was by no means a raving beauty, but she wasn’t too bad as far as looks went. Her blonde hair waved at the top and curled round her ears; her eyes were quite a strong blue; her teeth were white and even; her lips . . . the lips that Neil had once found so thrilling . . . He did love her, she thought in anguish. He did! How could he deny it after that kiss?

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘This is Freda – Mum, Dad, Queenie.’

  Neil looked so proud and happy that the weight on Gracie’s heart lifted as she shook hands with the girl. ‘I’m really pleased to meet you, lass.’

  ‘I hope you don’t object to Neil taking me home with him,’ Freda said shyly.

  ‘No, I’m pleased he did.’

  Joe elbowed his wife out of the way, joking, ‘Let the dog see the rabbit.’

  ‘Oh, Joe,’ she protested, ‘stop saying things like that. I don’t know what Freda’ll think of you.’

  ‘It was meant as a compliment,’ Joe told the girl, making her blush furiously and wince as her fingers were crushed in a vice-like grip. ‘If Neil took you home on approval, you pass with flying colours.’

  ‘Sit down, Freda,’ Gracie smiled, ‘and we’ll have a cup of tea before I cook your breakfast.’

  ‘Don’t go to any trouble for me, Mrs Ferris.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’

  Queenie, who had been dreading this meeting, stood up now to shake hands. ‘How do you do, Freda. Patsy said she’d stay at the Nurses’ Home so that you could share with me. I hope that’s OK with you?’

  ‘I don’t mind where I sleep, but I’m sorry if I’m putting Patsy out of her bed.’

  ‘I could have slept on the bed settee,’ Neil said.

  ‘No, no,’ Gracie frowned. ‘It’s not handy having to get it made up every night and unmade in the morning, and it causes a lot of dust and fluff. And Patsy’s quite happy about it.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Neil agreed, quite glad that he wouldn’t be lying on the lumpy mattress.

  As everyone sat down, Gracie said, ‘Hetty’s invited you to supper tomorrow.’ She turned to Freda to explain. ‘She’s my sister, Neil’s auntie.’

  ‘He told me, but I’m going to feel as if I’m on show.’

  ‘So you will be,’ Joe smiled, ‘but it’ll not be as bad as you think.’

  Neil spoke up, quietly. ‘Do we have to go to Hetty’s?’

  ‘She’ll be offended if you don’t.’

  ‘It’s just . . . you know.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gracie fell silent suddenly. She knew why he didn’t want to go. How would Olive react to meeting Freda?

  While Gracie fried the bacon she had cajoled from Joe and made an omelette with dried eggs, Neil said, ‘Freda knows I used to take Olive out, and what a pest she is, so she’s got an idea of what to expect when we go there.’

  Joe scratched his head. ‘Ach, Olive’s quietened down and, once she meets Freda, she’ll give up on you. It was just a childish fancy – her being the same age and being brought up with you in the Gallowgate for a few years.’

  After breakfast, Joe went to the shop and Queenie set off for Marischal College where she was studying for her B.A. degree. Freda rose to dry the dishes, but Gracie waved her away. ‘You’d better go and unpack your things. I’ve cleared two drawers in the dressing table for you. Take her through, Neil, and show her which room it is.’

  It was some time before they appeared again, but Gracie didn’t tease them. She didn’t want to put ideas into their heads, and she didn’t think that Neil would do anything out of place in his own home, whatever he did down in Alnwick.

  ‘I’m taking Freda out to see a bit of Aberdeen, Mum. We’ll take a snack somewhere at dinnertime, but we’ll be back in plenty of time for tea.’

  Freda was most impressed with what she saw of Neil’s home town. ‘I’d no idea Aberdeen was so big, and it’s so clean.’

  Neil beamed. ‘Aye, we’re civilised up here, thoug
h some of the English folk think we’re all red-haired savages in kilts and run about the hills with heather sprouting from between our toes. I bet you haven’t seen one kilt today. . . except for the boys in Scottish Regiments.’

  She chuckled. ‘I don’t think you’ve a very good opinion of the English, either.’

  ‘Oh, some of them aren’t so bad . . . one in particular.’

  His serious look made her blush and change the subject. ‘I like your mum and dad . . . and your cousin.’

  ‘Queenie? Yes, she’s a nice kid.’

  ‘She’s very pretty.’

  Not wanting to get into a discussion about Queenie, Neil said, ‘I don’t know when you’ll see Patsy, but she’ll likely pop in some evening, and you’ll meet Olive tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  Which was more than he was, Neil reflected. It was Olive’s reception of Freda that worried him, but surely she wouldn’t say anything to embarrass him . . . or would she? She had never been in the habit of considering other people’s feelings.

  When they returned to the tenement, he pulled Freda to him before they went upstairs, pushing aside the memory of how he had kissed Queenie, standing in exactly the same place.

  ‘Neil?’ Freda’s soft voice held a question. ‘I wondered why you took me home with you and it just dawned on me. Are you on embarkation leave?

  ‘No, my sweet. Would you worry if I was sent abroad?’

  ‘You know I would. There’s no word of it, is there?’

  ‘Not yet, but it could come any day.’ He hesitated before going on. ‘Freda, I truly love you, but I’d do anything not to be stuck in this country repairing cars and trucks that lunatics drive into the ground. I’d have been better joining the Artillery not the Ordnance Corps . . . not that I’m in that now, either. They transferred the transport section to the new REME when they started it this summer, but it’s made no difference to me. I’m still doing the same work.’

  ‘I didn’t know you wanted to get away,’ Freda said, rather plaintively. ‘I thought you’d rather have been with me.’

  ‘You know what I want.’ His voice was thick. ‘I don’t know how often I’ve pleaded with you, but you always say no.’

  ‘I can’t, Neil. Really I can’t.’

  ‘Don’t you want to show me how much you love me?’

  ‘No, Neil, no.’ The soft protest came as his hands touched her breasts.

  He dropped his arms hopelessly, ‘All the other girls I’ve been out with let me . . .’

  ‘I’m not all the other girls and I think it’s wrong.’

  ‘If I asked you to be engaged to me, would you let me?’

  After considering briefly, she said, ‘I might let you do some things, but not all the way. I’m sorry, Neil, but it’s how I’ve been brought up.’

  ‘So you won’t give in without a wedding ring? And what if I tell you I’m not ready for marriage yet?’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ Freda said, a little coldly. ‘I should never have come here with you. My mother said you’d try . . .’

  He whirled away angrily. ‘Damn your mother! Haven’t you any feelings of your own? If you loved me, you’d let me . . .’

  ‘I do love you and I do have feelings, but if I gave in to them, you wouldn’t respect me. I’d be the same as all those other girls you spoke about, and you’d soon tire of me.’

  His anger evaporated. ‘I’ll never tire of you, my darling, and I do understand what you mean. I hadn’t planned on this, but will you let me buy you an engagement ring, and we’ll be married as soon as I can arrange it after we go back?’

  ‘Yes, darling, as soon as you like.’

  His aching need became almost unbearable when she leaned against him, but he kept his arms firmly round her waist as he kissed her. ‘We won’t say anything tonight to my mum and dad. We’ll surprise them tomorrow with the ring.’

  In bed, Neil was amazed that he didn’t feel trapped. He’d really had no intention of getting married for a long time yet, but he couldn’t risk losing Freda. He loved her deeply, in spite of her keeping him at bay for so long – or perhaps because of it. His parents would get a right shock tomorrow, but he was sure that they’d be happy about the engagement.

  Gracie and Joe were delighted at lunchtime next day when Freda proudly displayed the ring – a small solitaire diamond which sparkled cheekily in the weak December sun shining in through the window of the kitchen. Joe jumped up to give his future daughter-in-law a smacking great kiss on her cheek, and Gracie hugged her. ‘I’m really pleased for you both.’

  ‘Congratulations.’ Queenie shook hands with Freda first, then with Neil, who clasped her hand in both of his and held it for a moment longer than necessary. She had desperately clung to the faint hope that he might come back to her once he tired of Freda, but this engagement was the final proof that he had never cared for her as much as she thought. ‘I’m very pleased for you, too,’ she added.

  Neil let out a loud guffaw, ‘We’re very pleased ourselves, aren’t we, Freda?’

  ‘I’m very happy,’ the girl murmured. ‘I do love Neil, Mrs Ferris, and I’ll be a good wife to him.’

  ‘I’ll bring up a bottle of wine at teatime,’ Joe said. ‘We have to drink to our only son’s happiness.’

  It was Gracie who remembered. ‘They won’t be here. They’re going to Hetty’s for tea tonight.’

  Neil’s eyes clouded. ‘Do we have to go? Could we not leave it till another night?

  ‘She’ll have everything ready by this time.’ Gracie could understand her son’s reluctance. He would have to tell Hetty and Martin about his engagement in front of Olive. ‘They’ll be as pleased for you as we are,’ she ended uncertainly.

  ‘And the wine’ll keep till tomorrow,’ Joe smiled.

  Neil was very quiet as he and Freda walked to Rubislaw Den later, but his fiancée was too ecstatic to notice. ‘This was the only ring I wanted,’ she told him, ‘and I’m so glad it wasn’t too expensive. My mum’s going to be surprised when we go back – she said you weren’t really serious about me. I wonder what your Auntie Hetty will say?’

  It wasn’t what Hetty would say about their engagement that troubled him, it was what Olive would say. Would she have the decency to congratulate them, or would she make a scene? There was no telling with Olive, but his money was on her making a scene.

  Olive had rushed home from her last lecture in order to have time to bathe and change into something more attractive than the heavy skirt and thick woollen jumper she had put on in the morning. She had to compete against this girl that Neil was bringing, and she had no idea what the creature looked like. She was probably one of those painted, too-smart-for-her-own-good types, and it would be better to show her up by dressing conservatively and acting like a lady.

  Emerging from a half-hour soak in the perfumed bath salts she had been hoarding, she wrapped herself in a large towel and went into her room, eyeing with some distaste the dress she had laid out – a navy flannel with a demure, white Peter Pan collar. Having worn it once before when she was out with Neil, she would have preferred something new, but there were never any clothing coupons left when she needed them. Still, Neil had complimented her on this one, and it was just the thing for her purpose. Now, dab on a little powder, and just a touch of lipstick, give her hair a good brushing, and then it would be watch out, Freda Whatever-the-end-of-your-name is, the gloves are off.

  Olive waited until she heard the doorbell and her mother talking to the visitors before she swept down the staircase like a star in a Hollywood musical, her hand caressing the curved bannister. ‘Oh, you’re here, Neil. I didn’t hear the bell.’ Her feigned amazement convinced Freda, but not Hetty nor Neil.

  ‘Meet my fiancée, Freda Cuthbert,’ he mumbled.

  Olive was stunned, but had the presence of mind to say, ‘Congratulations.’ His fiancée? Why had no one told her?

  ‘Isn’t this a nice surprise?’ Hetty gushed. She was still recove
ring from the shock herself, and was praying that her daughter would not disgrace her. ‘Don’t keep standing here, you two. Come and tell Martin your good news.’

  Trailing behind them into the sitting room, Olive tried to tell herself that Neil had got engaged to spite her. He couldn’t love this mousey person with the dark red hair that made her pale face look even paler. She wasn’t even pretty. Her mouth was too wide, her nose turned up, her eyes were too dark for her hair, and her figure was nothing startling, either. She was too skinny – so neat in her straight skirt and green twinset that Olive felt lumpy and awkward.

  Martin was voicing his felicitations. ‘You’re a very lucky lad, Neil, but you’re a dark horse, keeping a gorgeous girl like this up your sleeve. I’d say this calls for the brandy, Hetty.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘And when did you take the plunge?’

  Thoroughly embarrassed, Neil mumbled, ‘Just this forenoon. We hadn’t planned it . . . it just sort of happened.’

  Martin’s grin was threatening to split his face. ‘Oh, it’s good news, great news.’ Becoming conscious that his daughter was still standing near the door as though turned to stone, he said, ‘Isn’t it great news, Olive?’

  She gave a start. ‘Oh, yes, great.’ It was the worst news she had ever heard, but Neil could have his moment of glory, simpering, dimpled Freda could have her moment of triumph . . . Olive Potter would make certain that it didn’t last. In any case, it might just be another of Neil’s ploys to put her off him. But he wouldn’t get away with it now that she knew the kind of tricks he got up to. ‘It’s really great,’ she said, a little more emphatically.

  The brandy helped to restore her flagging spirits, and she joined in the laughter – a little forced, perhaps, but not too noticeably – until Hetty told them to go into the dining room. While they were eating, Olive said, ‘Is it OK with you if I keep on writing to Neil, Freda? I’ve done it since he joined up, though he just sends little notes occasionally.’

  Freda smiled beatifically. ‘Yes, it’s OK with me.’ Wagging her finger at her fiancé, she said, ‘Naughty boy! You must answer every one of Olive’s letters in future. Promise me?’