The Hidden Years

‘You always did drive too damn fast,’ Edward was saying curtly.

‘Well, luckily there was no harm done, and when your ministering angel told me that she was spending her time off charitably entertaining one of her patients I had no idea she meant you.’

‘What are you doing here, Kit?’

The way Edward Danvers asked the question was brusque, almost as though he disliked the other man, which startled Lizzie.

‘Felt I ought to, old chap, now that the old man’s finally gone. Duty. Head of the family and all that. Came to see how you were getting on. What plans you’ve got for when all this is over…’

‘I won’t be burdening you with my presence at Cottingdean, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ Edward said stiffly.

Lizzie was beginning to feel uncomfortable. There was something here between the two men which she felt instinctively should not be aired in front of a third party.

‘I… I think I’d better go,’ she began uncertainly, and appealed to Kit, ‘You’ve obviously got private family business to discuss…’

She started to move away down the path, but Kit followed her, standing between her and Edward and blocking her view of the wheelchair as he bent his head and murmured, ‘You haven’t forgotten about our date, have you? I shouldn’t be too long with old Edward… Half-past two, remember.’

Her heart gave a tremendous thud as happiness burst into a million tiny effervescent fragments inside her.

‘Half-past two,’ she agreed shakily.

Both men watched her walk out of sight, and then Kit drawled, ‘Pretty little thing for a skivvy.’

‘She is not a skivvy, she is a nursing aide… By rights she ought to have done more years at school. She’s far too bright for this kind of work.’ Edward moved restlessly in his chair and cursed bitterly, ‘Damn this war… Damn it to hell…’

‘Steady on, old chap. Can’t say I blame you, though. Tied to that thing and not able to do a thing about it, while you’ve got a pretty little bit like that fluttering round you. Must say, I’d feel pretty frustrated myself.’ He watched in cynical amusement as he saw his cousin’s skin turn dark red.

Edward always had been over-prudish, which was perhaps just as well in all the circumstances when you thought about it. Kit hadn’t been looking forward to this visit. While his father had been alive he had carelessly pushed the thought of his cousin and his plight out of his mind; he had more important things to think about, such as winning a war and in the process laying as many pretty girls as he could… One of the perks of being one of Britain’s bravest. As a pilot, it was virtually expected of him. Not that he found it any hardship… But now his father was dead, and his CO had made one too many comments about Edward’s plight, so that he had felt obliged to drive down here and see how he was doing, and to make it plain to Edward that once this war was over they would both have their own separate lives to lead.

‘You leave her alone,’ he heard Edward saying grimly. ‘She’s still little more than a child. She doesn’t understand the kind of rules you play by, Kit. She’s an innocent…’ He broke off, realising that he was only affording the other amusement, and asked instead, ‘I take it you are still engaged to Lillian?’

‘Of course. All that money, you know… Besides, I don’t have much option, do I?’

‘If you don’t love her—’

‘Love? What a fool you are, Edward. You’ve been spending too much time on your own,’ he added derisively. ‘I need a wife like Lillian, but that doesn’t mean I can’t amuse myself in other directions.’

‘You haven’t changed, Kit. You never did care about people’s feelings and you never will.’

‘While you always cared too much, which is why you’re in that wheelchair. If you hadn’t been so damned heroic, you’d still be a whole man, instead of a helpless cripple,’ Kit taunted him. ‘You’re a fool, Edward, you always were and you always will be… And by the way, old man, once Lillian and I are married, don’t expect to find yourself a billet at Cottingdean, will you? I dare say I shall sell the old place anyway. Lillian wants a flat in London, and I dare say by the time this is over Cottingdean will only be fit for knocking down.’

Kit always had had a cruel streak, Edward reflected silently; as a boy he had been inclined to bully and torment. That hadn’t bothered him then… He suddenly realised how tired and sick he felt, how helpless and vulnerable. He felt his eyes mist with the helpless tears of impotence and frustration, and he wished, as he had wished so many times before, that he had the strength and the courage to put an end to it all.

CHAPTER TWO (#u9297192c-5fbb-5fea-9191-c5a976f555f4)

‘GOT a date, have you?’

Lizzie flushed, even though the question was asked in a friendly enough way. The moment she had left Edward and Kit, she had collected her bike and ridden back to the hostel.

Mindful of Kit’s commands, she had rifled frantically through her meagre wardrobe, looking in vain for anything that might be described as ‘pretty’. There wasn’t anything, of course, but she could unpin her hair from its braids, brush it until it shined and leave it hanging loose.

That it felt odd and slightly uncomfortable didn’t matter. Kit had demanded it of her, and for him she was prepared to make any sacrifice…do anything that might please him.

Now though, confronted by the amused scrutiny of the other girls who also had the time off from working at the hospital, she felt acutely self-conscious, her face burning as she stammered an assent.

‘Not going to go out wearing that, are you?’ another girl commented, grimacing.

Lizzie blushed harder. She wasn’t used to confiding in others, to encouraging intimacy with them. Aunt Vi always kept her at a distance and had taught her to do the same to others.

‘I…I don’t have anything else.’

It shamed her to admit it. She bent her head forwards, so that her curtain of hair swung across her face.

‘I could lend you something,’ one of the girls offered. ‘We’re about the same size.’

‘Give over, Rosie, you might be the same height, but she’s much thinner than you.’

‘Not that much,’ Rosie protested. ‘She could wear that dress I got from Meg the other week. With a belt round the waist.’

‘Well, I suppose she could try it, only she’s going to need a bit of make-up as well, isn’t she? And some decent shoes. What size do you take, Lizzie?’

Thoroughly bemused, Lizzie stood there while they argued good-naturedly and loudly all around her.

‘It’s a pity you didn’t think to put your hair in rags last night,’ one of them told her. ‘Then it would have a bit of a curl to it. You’re lucky to be so blonde. Men really go for that. What is he? Yank?’

‘No, no, he’s—’

‘Here’s the dress,’ Rosie interrupted. ‘Come on, Lizzie, try it on.’

Suddenly she was one of them, an outsider no longer, but she flinched when they laughed at her sturdy utilitarian underwear.

‘Heavens, just look at it,’ one of them derided as she slipped off her cardigan and blouse to reveal the heavy cotton brassière which, like the rest of her clothes, had been inherited from someone else.

Normally she tried to undress and dress in privacy. Aunt Vi had always made her feel somehow that her body was something she ought to be ashamed of and, even when she had had the luxury of her own bedroom, she had always studiously avoided looking at herself.

Now she blushed deeply as one of the older girls announced cynically, ‘My God, whoever he is, he’s going to get a shock when he sees that. Let’s hope he’s in the artillery. They’re used to dealing with armour plating.’

The other girls laughed, but it was good-natured laughter, Lizzie recognised.

‘You’ll have to take it off,’ Rosie told her decisively, and before she could protest the other girl had stepped behind her and unsnapped the fastener.

She had never stood in front of anyone before clad in only her knickers and she felt a sharp stab of shock ricochet through her system as she realised how easily she was shedding Aunt Vi’s rules.

‘Look at her,’ someone said mockingly. ‘She doesn’t need to wear anything. There’s hardly anything of her.’

‘No, but at least what she’s got is in the right place,’ another girl responded.

Rosie turned to her and said kindly, ‘Don’t pay any attention to Mavis, she’s jealous because her boyfriend says her chest is too big… Poor Mavis. She’s used to them thinking it’s wonderful. She needed taking down a peg or two. The rest of us were sick of hearing about how wonderful her forty inches were… Here you are, get this on,’ she instructed, handing her a flimsy cotton garment.