Lizzie's Secret (23 page)

‘Harry!' Lizzie said, feeling herself go hot all over. She was very conscious of being naked and made a rush for the bed, covering herself quickly. Harry laughed, leaned in and kissed her.

‘You're adorable, Lizzie. You can't be shy after last night.'

‘It was dark or almost,' she said. ‘Aunt Jane told me to undress in the dark and never look at myself naked – it was as if she thought the body was something shameful.'

‘Your aunt was a dried-up old biddy,' Harry said and laughed. ‘You look beautiful like that and I want to look at you in daylight so that I can think of you like this when I'm flying up there in the clouds.'

Lizzie sat cross-legged in the bed, letting the covers fall away from her as she took her tea and the plate of crispy, flaky sausages rolls and the delicious butter cream sponge she'd prepared earlier. This was how she loved Harry, the way he'd been before he discovered she wasn't the virgin he'd expected; he'd come back to her and she was so relieved and happy. Please God, let them have another chance, let everything be as she'd hoped it would when she married him. She bit into the sausage roll, enjoying the taste and licking the flakes of pastry from her lips. Harry reached toward her and licked a tiny flake from the corner of her mouth.

‘Tastes even better on your lips,' he murmured. ‘I must admit you're not a bad cook, Lizzie.'

‘Thank you kindly, sir,' she said, quirking a smile at him.

‘You should ask my Aunt Miriam to teach you to make chicken soup – it's economical and will come in handy if food goes on the ration. We shan't get luxuries like this then…'

‘No, we shan't.' Lizzie's smile dimmed and a shiver went down her spine. A lot of men were going to be killed trying to bring food to them here in England – and a lot more would be killed defending them and the country they loved. Something told her that the men flying flimsy aircraft would suffer some of the worst losses and the thought frightened her.

‘Perhaps Hitler won't want to fight us when it comes to it – why should he? I don't see why we have to fight over foreign countries.'

‘Because he's power-crazy and he knows we shan't let him ride roughshod over the rest of Europe if we can stop him…'

‘Will we be able to stop him? Lizzie's eyes widened in fear and she shivered. What would happen to Harry once he started flying missions over Germany? Would he come through it all or would he be lost to her?

‘Yes, of course we shall,' Harry told her confidently. ‘Our planes are fast and our pilots are brave. Hitler won't know what's hit him if he dares to look our way.'

Harry was laughing, but Lizzie thought it bravado. She knew people had promised the last war with the Germans would be over in a few months and that had dragged on for years; the bloodiest, terrible conflict they'd ever known. It was supposed to be the war to end all wars, but another one had begun. She suspected it would be as bad in its way, if not worse than the last one.

‘I'm frightened…'

‘Come here,' Harry commanded and took her plate away. He drew her to him, wrapping his strong arms around her. ‘You're thinking too much, Lizzie. Wait and see what happens before you start fretting…'

‘Yes.' She reached up for his kiss. ‘I shouldn't cast shadows, not while you're here – not while I have you home. We'll be all right, it will work out somehow. I know it's all going to be fine.'

‘Of course it will,' Harry said and kissed her full on the lips. ‘I love you, Lizzie. You're mine and I'm not going to give you up that easily…'

Lizzie felt miserable after Harry left. She mooched about the flat for a couple of days and then started making her special hats. It stopped her feeling sorry for herself and took her mind off her loneliness. Even Beth's letters, which came regularly twice a week and were full of her news, only helped for a short time. She was bored and a little resentful. Harry was enjoying his life in the RAF, because it was what he'd wanted, but she hated him being away and she was terrified that she would lose him – that one of these days he wouldn't come back to her.

It was a week after Harry left her that she was called to the showroom and told that she was needed urgently. Lizzie discovered that Sebastian Winters had brought two ladies with him; Wendy, a girl she'd seen at his party and an older lady Lizzie guessed was her mother because they looked a little alike, both with the same soft brown hair.

‘Oh, it is the right place,' Wendy said in a gush and looked relieved. ‘Mother wasn't sure, because this is more a wholesale area… at least it looks…' the girl broke off, a flush in her cheeks. She glanced around, as if slightly embarrassed. ‘You have some lovely hats here… Oh, I love that pink straw with all the tulle and the rose.'

‘‘Mrs Harrison, this is Lizzie – Lizzie, this young lady is desperate for something different and I assured her she would find it here.' Sebastian shook hands with Wendy's mother. ‘I shall leave you in Lizzie's capable hands – and I'll return to speak with you later, Lizzie.' He smiled at each of them and then went out.

‘Mrs Oliver?' the older woman offered her hand to Lizzie. She took it and smiled as she felt the firm no-nonsense handshake. ‘Good, I'm glad we've found you. Wendy adored your hat the other week at the party and has talked of nothing else since. Now, we shall need at least a dozen hats for Wendy and I would like a special hat for the wedding – though there are others I think I might like to purchase from your shelves. They are all for sale?'

‘Yes, Mrs Harrison. Please feel free to try on what you wish.'

Lizzie saw that Wendy had already snatched off her own hat and was busy trying on the pink straw she'd seen from across the room in front of one of the wall mirrors Lizzie had persuaded Uncle Bertie to invest in, and her mother had taken a red felt with a black ribbon and a curling feather from the stands and was trying it on in front of the full-length mirror. It suited her well, but the pink hat was very big on Wendy and she saw doubt in the girl's eyes, but she'd already anticipated something of the sort and was carrying a smaller version of the hat.

‘That one is a little over the top for you,' Lizzie said, offering the alternative, which was just that bit smaller but even prettier because the net veiling was very fine and the pale pinky-mauve rose set it off to advantage. ‘Try it and see, Miss Harrison.'

Wendy took off the larger hat, handing it to Lizzie, trying the smaller one in front of the mirror. She gave a cry of delight at the way it set off her quiet beauty and turned towards them, her face glowing.

‘Isn't she clever, Mama?' she cried. ‘It looks as if it were made for me.'

‘As a matter of fact it was,' Lizzie said. ‘I had you in mind when I trimmed it. I was hoping you would come.'

‘It is quite remarkable,' Mrs Harrison said and smiled. ‘You may put that one aside for my daughter. Why don't you two talk about other hats you think suitable while I browse.'

‘Would you like to come into the workroom?' Lizzie asked hesitantly. ‘I could show you some designs I've been working on, also trimmings and ribbons… and then we'll discuss colours and go on from there…'

‘Oh, yes, please. Please reserve this hat for me and I'd like to try the white straw when we come back…'

Almost two hours later, Lizzie's first bespoke customers left carrying four hatboxes and she had a firm order for another eight hats, one for Mrs Harrison and the other seven for Wendy. She would be busy day and night for the next week. Luckily, she had all the materials and trimmings in stock, and she blessed Uncle Bertie for buying in enough of the basic stuffs. Both Wendy and her mother had chosen mostly conventional shapes with different trimmings, but though the cone shapes had amused them, Wendy didn't buy one. However, she did love the way Lizzie had shaped the brims of other models so that they had the look of a buccaneer's hat, softened by ribbons or the occasional cute feather.

‘I haven't seen this style anywhere else,' she said, and ordered a cream version with a brown feather and a red version with a black feather and ribbon. ‘I've bought most of my clothes but I wasn't happy with the hats the shops showed me – but yours are so well finished.'

Lizzie started on Wendy's hats immediately and worked steadily all day. Just as she was thinking of leaving that evening, she was called into the showroom. Sebastian had returned as promised. The intimate smile he gave her made her breath catch and she recalled how jealous Harry had been over his garden party.

‘Mr Winters,' she said uncertainly. ‘How are you?'

‘Very well, thank you, Lizzie,' he said, an amused look in his eyes. ‘I hope you got a decent order from Wendy and her mother?'

‘Yes, they seemed delighted, even with the prices we charged. I can hardly believe that customers like that are prepared to come all this way just for a few hats…'

‘Don't you believe it,' he said, looking at the neat price tags. ‘Even at the prices we agreed, they are less than they would pay in some of the top West End milliners. Besides, you have something special, Lizzie Larch. I've told you that before…'

‘Mr Oliver is giving me more freedom to design as I please now, which I know is because you asked him to…' she said with a little frown, because it still rankled slightly that Bert had only agreed because of Sebastian's request.

‘So he should. You're wasted here, Lizzie, though the training you received was invaluable. If things don't go quite as you hope you could come to me – we could still launch your exclusive line through my shop in the West End.'

‘I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave my job here,' she said. ‘I like what I'm doing – but I am grateful for all you've done to help me, and I hope we can be friends?'

‘Friendship?' he said and smiled oddly. ‘Well, I'll take what you're offering, even though it's not what I want. As far as my order for the shop goes, I'd like the large pink hat and the black and green cone… not the one your friend wore to my party, the more substantial one. I'd also like that white one with the tulle and the black rose.'

‘Thank you,' Lizzie said. She brought out some hatboxes from under the counter, wrapping her creations tenderly in tissue before placing them in the boxes. Sebastian Winters had his wallet out and paid her in cash and she handed him his receipt. ‘I hope you sell the hats well.'

‘I expect I shall,' he said, ‘but the cone is just for a talking point really. I'm going to make it a part of a fantasy display in my window. Your hat gave me a great idea of my own, Lizzie. I'll come again soon – and I'll want mainly the big hats you make so stylish.'

‘Thank you…' she felt an odd pang of regret as he turned away from her.

Lizzie went back to the showrooms after he'd left. Why did Sebastian Winters keep coming back to make her offers? He'd vowed he wouldn't, but it almost seemed as if he couldn't stay away.

*

Uncle Bertie was hesitant as she showed him a new design. He studied it for several minutes, and then nodded.

‘You'll need Ed to help you cut that one,' he said. ‘Even I'm not certain how you're going to shape that brim, Lizzie. Are you sure it will sell?'

‘I think Mr Winters will love it,' she told him and he shrugged.

‘Well, it's up to you, but Ed has a lot do this month – and Vera is working flat out on the Government orders. Ed is going to have to divide his time between you. But if you think it's the way to go…'

‘We need to come up with something different if we want our bespoke customers coming in regularly for their hats.'

‘Get on with it then. No time to waste in talking.'

Lizzie sighed, because it seemed as if there was no pleasing him, even when she finished the hats for Wendy by the end of the week. Sometimes she wondered what might have happened if she'd accepted Sebastian's offer to work for him, but she was Harry's wife and though things would never be quite as she'd hoped at the start, there was no going back.

Beth sighed and eased her aching back. She'd been working a twelve-hour shift and she was so tired. All she wanted to do was to go home and relax in a warm bath… if there was any warm water left at the Nurses' Home.

Living in the official accommodation was all right. Beth got on with most of the other girls and she didn't mind sharing her room with Rose Brown, but there was never enough hot water for everyone. It was pot luck, and you could never be sure if you would manage to get enough for a bath. No one was supposed to fill the bath above a certain line, but some of the girls broke the rules, caring only for their own comfort. Beth had done it herself before now, but sometimes she wished she could live somewhere that had running hot water all the time.

She was reflective as she walked through the dark streets, pulling her coat collar up around her neck and shivering because the weather had turned bitter. It would soon be Christmas and Beth wasn't sure if she would get home for leave on the day. She hadn't taken home leave yet, content to stay in Cambridge and go out with friends. Several weeks had passed since she'd got Mark's last letter, and like every other girl with a boyfriend in the forces, she was starting to worry.

It was so different here in Cambridge from the grime and bustle of the East End of London. There were lots of nice shops, green spaces, cinemas and cafés to visit, as well as the magnificent colleges, and also the river, although she hadn't been on the punts yet because the weather had turned cold by the time she'd arrived in Cambridge. Most of her life revolved around the hard and very menial work she was required to do at the hospital and the studies that took up most of her evenings. Learning to be a nurse was turning out to be exhausting.