In Love and War by Lily Baxter Page A

need to feel awkward. I’m sure our Belgian guests wouldn’t begrudge their good friend an evening of relaxation. Why don’t you take your coat off and have a glass of punch? There’s not much alcohol in it but it’s quite palatable.’ He turned to Guy. ‘May I get you a glass of beer, Mr Gifford?’
    â€˜Thank you,’ Guy said affably. ‘A beer would be most welcome, and it’s Guy.’
    â€˜John Johnson.’ The vicar seized Guy’s hand and shook it. ‘But everyone calls me Joe.’ He strolled off in the direction of the makeshift bar.
    Elsie waited until he was out of earshot. ‘I’m sure you didn’t mean that.’
    â€˜Actually I prefer beer to champagne, and even if I didn’t I would not want to offend the good vicar. He’s obviously doing his best to look after his adopted flock, and it can’t be easy.’
    â€˜He’s a good man,’ Elsie said, nodding. ‘And his wife is an excellent woman. She works tirelessly for the poor and needy and this is not a rich parish. I admire them both tremendously.’
    â€˜One thing puzzles me, Elsie,’ he said slowly. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t understand your relationship with Marianne. You two may have a passing physical resemblance but you are complete opposites.’
    â€˜Marianne is a good friend,’ Elsie said defensively. ‘She’s been kind to me since my mother died last summer.’
    â€˜I didn’t know. I’m sorry.’
    â€˜Thank you. I’m coming to terms with it now, but it was a terrible shock.’ She glanced down at the expensive dress in pale pink chiffon embroidered all over with glass bugle beads, created no doubt by a fashionable designer. ‘This isn’t the real me, Guy. I borrowed this gown from Marianne. I was a lady’s maid and then I took over my mother’s job, charring at Darcy Hall. That’s how I know Marianne. I’m not one of her set.’
    He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Neither am I, come to that. I have a fairly menial position in the War Office, and I was a grammar school boy. Tubby and Algy are old Etonians.’
    Elsie was about to answer but a group of children had spotted her and they abandoned the food table to cluster round her. She laughed, urging them to speak one at a time and returning hugs from the younger ones while paying due attention to their older siblings. Guy sipped his beer, and even though she sensed that he was watching her she felt comfortable in his presence. She looked up and smiled at him over the children’s heads, but before she had a chance to say anything her attention was claimed by several of the mothers who wanted to talk to her.
    In the end it was the vicar’s wife who came to her rescue. She spoke in rapid French to the group who had gathered around Elsie, and somewhat unwillingly they dispersed. ‘Miss Mead will be back after Christmas,’ Mrs Johnson said firmly. ‘Enjoy the party, ladies. And children, you must leave some cake for everyone else. We don’t want you being sick all night or crying with tummy ache.’
    Joe returned, having separated two boys who were fighting and made them shake hands. He embraced Elsie warmly. ‘Thank you for coming to join us tonight, my dear. These poor souls must gain comfort from the fact that someone cares enough for their welfare to abandon their own Christmas party in order to spend time with them.’
    Elsie realised that she had allowed her coat to fall open, revealing the evening gown. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to show off, and it’s not mine, Joe. It’s borrowed.’
    He smiled. ‘Don’t apologise, Elsie. You’re young and you have every right to enjoy yourself. Don’t you agree, Guy?’
    â€˜I do indeed, but I’m not really part of this. I feel that I ought to go, but I don’t want to