A Mistletoe Kiss (39 page)

‘It was unforgivable; my only excuse is that I'd arranged to meet Michael at six o'clock and I was already late. It was only afterwards that I began to wonder about you and try to find you again, to explain my rudeness.
But I was only in Liverpool for a couple of days and though I described you to everyone I met, no one could tell me who you were, or where you worked.'

‘If you said I had black hair and a club foot, it seems strange that you weren't more successful,' Agatha said somewhat drily, but Max shook his head reprovingly at her.

'I didn't know then about your foot, I only knew you walked with a stick. But anyway, that's beside the point. When we met again, I was so ashamed of my behaviour on the first occasion that I let you believe it was my brother and not I who had knocked you down; you see, I was already attracted to you and was determined to get to know you better, particularly once I'd done some asking around and knew you weren't married or engaged …'

Agatha gave a smothered chuckle. ‘To tell you the truth, Max, when you said you had something to tell me, I thought you might be going to say you had a wife and a dozen children,' she said. ‘So now we know we're both free, white and twenty-one, as the saying goes. But you said you had a couple of lies to confess; what's the second one?'

‘I told you in one of my letters that I was nudging forty,' Max said gloomily. ‘In fact I'll be forty-three in June this year.'

‘I never received a letter telling me your age, but I already knew how old you were from something one of your colleagues at the museum let drop,' Agatha said truthfully. ‘And I'm thirty-six, seven years younger than you. But what has age got to do with anything?'

‘Oh, dear God, I'm doing it all wrong,' Max said distractedly. ‘I meant to tell you that I knew from the first moment we met you were the only girl for me, and …'

‘Woman, not girl, and – and I felt the same,' Agatha said, feeling the warm blood rush to her cheeks. She was too honest to let Max think his words were not what she had longed to hear; why should she? A woman of thirty-six must acknowledge that her chances of meeting the man of her dreams were few, but to know that Max loved her, as she loved him, was wonderful, and she would be the last person to deny it. She hesitated, then broke into speech once more. ‘Ever since you kissed me under the mistletoe on Lime Street station I've … I've known you were someone special. Only I didn't know how special, not then.'

Max struck his forehead with one hand and groaned. ‘Dear God, Agatha, confessing seems to be the name of the game tonight. There was no mistletoe; I just wanted an excuse to kiss you. Can you ever forgive me?'

Agatha began to giggle, then to laugh out loud. ‘Oh, Max, what a pair of fools we are,' she said. ‘If we're being really truthful, I'd never been kissed by anyone before, but it was lovely and I really enjoyed it, so you don't have to apologise. You kiss beautifully, but I expect you've had lots of practice, unlike myself.'
'

‘Well, you're going to get a good deal of practice from now on,' Max said with a grin. ‘And there's one more thing I need to tell you whilst I'm coming clean, so to speak. Agatha, my dear, I'm not only nearly forty-three; I'm old-fashioned. I'm being posted to Lossiemouth, in the north-east of Scotland, and if I were ten or fifteen years younger I'd ask you to meet me halfway so that we could book in at some hostelry as man and wife and – and get to know one another. But I can't do that, it's against all my principles; all my upbringing, in fact. So … so would you … would you marry me? If you say yes I can get hold of a special licence …'

‘Of course I'll marry you,' Agatha said simply, rising reluctantly to her feet. ‘I really must go, Max, or Mother will be half mad with worry, but I've got the day off tomorrow – our new assistant, Mrs Hibbert, will cope – so we can meet then.

The two of them left the hotel, arms round each other's waists, heads very close. Agatha felt happiness flooding through her, its warmth conquering the chill of the March wind. As they walked they discussed their plans for the future and Agatha told her lover that she would have to give notice in good time so that her employers might find a replacement librarian. However, she was sure she would soon find work in Lossiemouth, perhaps even on the RAF station. ‘Because now that we're getting married, I shall want to be with you all the time, and there's my mother to consider …'

‘Your mother must come with us; we couldn't possibly leave her alone in Liverpool whilst the war continues,' Max cut in quickly. ‘Lossiemouth isn't large, but I'm sure we'll find lodgings easily enough.' He gave her waist a squeeze. ‘Can I come home with you now? I want to tell your mother my marvellous news …'

‘What news is that?' Agatha asked, then giggled when Max tutted. ‘Oh, you mean
our
marvellous news. I'm sure Mother will be pleased once she gets used to the idea, but at first it will be something of a shock …'

It was to be a typical wartime wedding, Hetty thought, with Max in his uniform and Agatha in the navy blue coat and skirt which she had worn to attend the museum opening so long ago. She herself was to be Agatha's only attendant, wearing a borrowed dress and court shoes, which were too small and pinched her toes, but none of the shoes and boots she wore aboard the
Shamrock
were in any way suitable. She and Agatha were in the latter's bedroom, putting the finishing touches to their toilet, whilst Mrs Preece, dressed in her best and almost as excited as the bride, pottered about rearranging the little bouquets which Max had had delivered to the house earlier in the day. Hetty's was made up of purple and white violets, whilst Agatha's was lilies of the valley, and Hetty thought she would never again smell their heady perfume without remembering her friend's flushed and happy face and her dark, sparkling eyes.

True to his word, Max had obtained a special licence, which meant that the wedding was being held a mere ten days after the couple had plighted their troth in Maple's Hotel. When Agatha had described the occasion to Hetty she had thought it very unromantic, but when she said as much, Agatha had only smiled and shaken her head. ‘When you love someone, and know
they love you, everything they do or say is romantic,' she had told her young friend. ‘Whenever I look at Max, my stomach turns over.'

‘That sounds more like a bilious attack than a sign of affection,' Hetty had said, only half teasingly, but again Agatha had shaken her head.

‘No. Love isn't all mistletoe kisses and diamond engagement rings, my dear. When you fall in love, you'll understand.'

Now, Mrs Preece eyed her daughter critically, then smiled and reached up to pat her cheek. ‘I dreamed of you having a white wedding, but the war has put a stop to such things,' she said regretfully and then, as Agatha opened her mouth to speak, she placed a finger across her daughter's lips. ‘I know what you were going to say, but from the moment I first set eyes on Max I knew you two were made for each other. I suppose I thought he'd wait for peace before popping the question, and I was worried because you were going to be separated so soon after the wedding, but that's because I'm a foolish old woman.' She turned to Hetty. ‘They've invited me to go with them to Scotland when the library have found a replacement librarian for Everton. It's very generous of them, and if I can find lodgings I like I may take them up on it. Max says Liverpool is going to be a target for the Huns because it's an important port, and I dare say he's right, whereas Lossiemouth is just a little village on the shores of the Moray Firth. However, a decision of that sort has to be carefully thought out. All my friends are here, and if we leave this house
unprotected God knows what we'll find when the war's over.'

‘I wish I could offer to rent it from you, but of course it's out of the question,' Hetty said regretfully. ‘I shall be back on the canal tomorrow. In fact, Mrs Preece, officially I haven't even left the
Shamrock
. The girls are coping just for three days, so I can attend the wedding.'

Mrs Preece raised her eyebrows. ‘Two of them to handle those great long boats? How on earth …'

‘Sally's boyfriend is on leave from the air force; he's living aboard and doing my job whilst I'm away,' Hetty explained, then glanced at her wristwatch and gave a squeak. ‘Goodness, look at the time! We're due at the register office in twenty minutes; the taxi will be here in seconds!'

Agatha picked up her bouquet, gave a last glance at her reflection in the dressing table mirror, and made for the stairs. She had been so busy in the past few days that she had not really had time to be nervous, and now she waited for anxiety to engulf her and was rather surprised when it did not do so. Brides were supposed to be all of a tremble, she reminded herself, but it seemed that she was to be the exception. She felt both calm and happy, and realised that she was looking forward to the small reception which was her mother's wedding present to the happy couple. There would not be many guests: only the Galeras, a cousin of her mother's, Mrs Simpson from next door, and Mr Gower, who was unable to attend the ceremony itself but was coming to the reception.

Agatha helped Hetty to settle old Mrs Preece into the taxi which awaited them at the gate, then slid into the front seat next to the driver. She had met Mr and Mrs Galera the previous evening, when she and her mother had been invited by them to dine at the Adelphi, and had liked them very much, though it had come as a considerable surprise to discover that Max's stepmother was about her own age, a great deal younger than her husband. However, Elinor Galera had very soon put her at her ease, and by the time the evening ended Agatha felt she had found a new friend.

She had felt shy of meeting Michael, who had been told of the deception Max had practised on her at their first meeting, but soon relaxed, finding him very different from her fiancé. Physically, Max was a head taller and a good deal heavier than Michael, and the younger man seemed frivolous compared to his brother at first. He laughed a lot, told jokes, and teased Max, but when she and Elinor went to the ladies' powder room the other woman told her that Michael was quite as serious as Max, but more prone to disguise the fact.

‘I know you'll like him very much when you get to know him properly, and that's a good thing, because the brothers are very close,' Elinor said. ‘Don't judge Michael on this first meeting, though. He's putting on an act, as I'm told many aircrew do. It's a big responsibility, navigating one of those heavy bombers.'

The screech of brakes as the taxi drew up outside the register office brought Agatha abruptly back to the
present. She stepped out of the taxi and suddenly all her unnatural calm deserted her. What on earth was she doing here, she, a confirmed spinster who had never even had a boyfriend, actually considering marriage! Butterflies started to dance a fandango in her stomach and a cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She looked round wildly for a way of escape – and saw Max. He was smiling at her, holding out his hand, and she knew all in a moment that he was probably as nervous as she, but hiding it better. She felt a small, tentative smile break out on her face and the butterflies, so active only moments before, calmed down. This was wedding nerves; they would disappear as soon as she was Max's wife – were disappearing already. She handed her small bouquet to Hetty, then helped her mother to alight. ‘Is my hat on straight?' she enquired, suddenly anxious. ‘Is my nose shiny?'

Mrs Preece patted her arm. ‘You look lovely, my dear,' she said huskily. ‘In we go. We mustn't keep everyone waiting!'

‘Alone at last, Mrs Galera!' Max said, putting an arm around his brand new wife and leading her gently into the bedroom at the Adelphi which they would inhabit for the one and only night of their honeymoon. ‘Phew. I never realised before what an ordeal getting married was, but I suppose it's something every bride and groom has to go through. I say, what a dream of a nightdress; where did you get it in these austere times?'

Agatha took the flimsy nightie out of her small case
and turned to look up into Max's dark, intelligent face. ‘What a good thing I'm in love with you,' she said, ignoring his question and voicing her own thoughts. ‘Otherwise this would be purgatory – being shut up in a bedroom with a man one scarcely knew!'

‘Well, yes; but since we
are
in love, we don't need to consider the plight of those less fortunate. Are you tired, sweetheart?'

‘Yes,' Agatha admitted. They had smiled and smiled throughout the service in the register office, smiled and smiled at the reception Mrs Preece and Mrs Simpson had arranged, smiled some more as they took up their reservation at the Adelphi. They had come, hand in hand, to their room and had eyed each other speculatively across the width of the delightful double bed. Then they had tidied up, as Max had put it, and gone down to the dining room. The waiter, a spry little man with an avuncular manner, suggested they should have the soup, followed by roast chicken and rounded off with a lemon mousse, and they had agreed, eaten everything eagerly – they had been too nervous to eat at the reception – and then come straight to their room. Now, Agatha reflected that that part had been easy; the difficult part was about to begin. Then she looked at Max's anxious, craggy face and knew, all in a moment, that he was as frightened of doing something wrong as she; possibly more so. ‘The nightie?' she said. ‘Yes, it's awfully pretty. My gran wore it on her wedding night and she's lent it to me so that I can follow the family tradition. Do you want to get changed into those startling pyjamas
in here, or would you rather go down the corridor to the bathroom?'

Max began to speak, then stopped. He crossed the room in a couple of strides, caught hold of Agatha and began to kiss her neck, and then to unbutton her crisp white blouse. When he drew back Agatha smiled up at him and sat down on the bed, the better to roll down and remove her precious silk stockings. ‘We've only got this one night, because tomorrow you go off to Scotland and I return to Everton library,' she observed. ‘I'd like to be coy and reluctant, but it would be an awful waste of our time together. So let's make the most of it, Max.'