The Linden Walk. Elizabeth Elgin

that given a little time together sitting close in the firelight and kissing sometimes, and laughing too, things would be as they had once been when he kissed her a passionate goodnight on the stone steps of Hellas House – and she had told him she loved him.

      ‘Flowers,’ he said, giving her the chrysanthemums. ‘From Willis.’

      And Lyn thanked him and told him to take off his jacket and get himself to the fire, for a warm. Then went in search of a vase.

      They shared a tin of tomato soup and a tin of baked beans for supper, eked out with thick slices of the Keeper’s Cottage loaf.

      ‘There’s no one bakes bread like Daisy’s Mum,’ Lyn said.

      ‘You are speaking, if I may say so, to the converted. We used to smell baking day from the other end of Brattocks, then swoop on Keeper’s for bread and honey. Like a swarm of locusts, we must have been.’

      ‘We? The Clan?’

      ‘Yes, but I’m not here to talk about when we were kids, darling. I came because I wanted to see you and to talk about you and me.’

      ‘Like …?’

      ‘Like – we-e-ll, the wedding, for one thing.’ Dammit, she was icing up again. ‘And for another, I want to know what happened to the girl I asked to marry me. There now, Lyn, I’ve said it. I’m looking, I suppose, for the Wren who was good at passionate goodnights.’

      ‘That Wren was demobbed ages ago. The war’s over, Drew, and I’m going to wash the supper things.’

      She got to her feet but he caught her wrist and held it tightly.

      ‘No! The washing up can wait. Sit down – please?’

      ‘Very well.’ She positioned herself awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, so he was obliged to lay an arm around her and pull her closer. ‘But it seems to me, Drew, you’re making a drama out of nothing.’

      ‘I don’t think I am.’ He could feel the tenseness in her shoulders, see the defiant tilt of her chin. ‘Something’s upsetting you, something isn’t quite right between us and I want to know what it is. I’ve a right to know.’

      ‘So what do you want to hear?’

      ‘That you haven’t changed your mind, that you still want to marry me.’

      ‘You know I do! Oh, hell, Drew …’

      She let go a sigh and closed her eyes and he knew she was fighting tears.

      ‘Don’t get upset, Lyn? Please don’t cry? Just tell me what it is and I’ll understand.’

      ‘You want to know? You really want to know, Drew Sutton?’ She pushed him away from her, then faced him defiantly, cheeks flushed. ‘I’m jealous of Kitty, I suppose. And I know I’m being stupid, but that’s what it really boils down to. I’ve never been with a man before and I’m going to mess up our wedding night because I don’t know how to do it!’

      ‘Most brides don’t know, either,’ he said gently.

      ‘Oh? Daisy knew, didn’t she? And Kitty knew.’

      ‘Yes, and I thought Lyn Carmichael was pretty curious, too. What happened to the passionate redhead? You were eager enough, then.’

      ‘I know. We were pretty good together, once. I thought you felt as I felt and I wanted you Drew, and to hell with what might happen. I didn’t care if I got pregnant, that’s how much I wanted you. But you patted my behind and steered me towards the Wrennery door. After I’d said I loved you like some silly little bitch, you didn’t want me.’

      ‘I’m truly sorry I hurt you, Lyn, but why have you changed?’

      ‘Because that night, it would have been all right between us. Neither of us would have known what we were doing. I knew you were a virgin, too, and that the first time might have been a bit of a fumble, but we’d have understood. It’s different, now. For me, it is.’

      ‘I’m sorry you feel like that. Don’t you think it’s about time we put all this behind us and started out afresh – like we both felt the night you said you’d marry me? And does it matter when our wedding night is? Do you want us to be lovers before April? I don’t care, Lyn, about all that virginity lark. There’s been a war on and people are more broadminded about things like that. I thought you were a very modern woman; that you’d understand.’

      ‘Oh, yes? Lyn Carmichael should know all about sex before marriage, is that it? Auntie Blod stood by whilst the father of her unborn child married her twin sister! Carrying on should be bred in me, should it?’

      ‘Oh, God, Lyn!’ He threw up his hands despairingly, then brought them down with a slap on his knees. ‘You told me just as soon as you found out that Auntie Blod was your real mother and it didn’t make one blind bit of difference then, and it doesn’t now. I liked your mother – your Auntie Blod – the minute I met her and I still like her. I’m looking forward to seeing her – and meeting your father, of course.’

      ‘Me, too. Years since I saw him, but he seems to have aged very gracefully, if snaps are to be believed.’ She grasped the get-out. Talk about anything, Lyn, but the fact that Kitty and Drew were good together, once. ‘I had a letter this morning; written the day before they left. They should be well on their way, now. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas for me. My parents married at last, and staying with me. One of their cases, I believe, is packed full of unrationed food.’

      ‘So will they go back to Kenya? Well, the wedding is in April – will it be worth two journeys?’

      ‘I don’t know what is happening, Drew. I only know that in less than three weeks, they’ll be here.’

      ‘Would you all like to come to Rowangarth for Christmas? The mothers are going to have a lot to talk about.’

      ‘Sorry, Drew. New Year, maybe? It’s just that I think that Mam would like Christmas here – with her husband. She’s so happy, now. I should be mad at my father for getting her pregnant then marrying her sister, but I can’t be. And anyway, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Auntie Blod didn’t tell him till it was too late. But I really am going to wash the supper dishes, and tidy the kitchen. It’s a routine I’ve got into, so you’d best give me a hand.’

      ‘Okay. But only if you kiss me.’

      He held out his hands, drawing her to her feet, gathering her to him, holding her close. Then he kissed her long and hard and felt her body relax against his.

      ‘Don’t, Drew,’ she said huskily, pulling her head away.

      ‘Why not? I like kissing you. You’re very good at it, when you put your mind to it.’ He kissed her again, all at once wanting her. ‘Leave the dishes, Lyn? Let’s go upstairs?’

      ‘No, Drew. Remember the night we got engaged – it was me put the words into your mouth, wasn’t it? And now you think I want to sleep with you because I reminded you I’m still a virgin and not sure how it would be between us, on our first night? Well, you’re wrong, and if you came all the way here just for that, then you’d better pack your bags and take your flowers and your bloody pheasant with you, and shove off. Sorry, sailor, but that’s the way it is, so stop patronizing me if you know what’s good for you!’

      She ran across the room and he heard the urgent pounding of her feet on the stairs and the angry closing of the upstairs door. And worse than that, he heard the unmistakable slamming home of a door bolt.

      ‘So what do you do now, Drew?’ he asked of the empty room that for all that seemed full of her anger. Coming here hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Or had it, and was it he who had loused things up? Didn’t Lyn have every right to say no to him? After all, he’d done just that to her, once. Maybe it would be all right in the morning – honours even, sort of? Maybe tomorrow they could kiss and make up and things would start to come right between them? He hoped so, because if it didn’t