standing right beside her. In fact, she had bumped into him, rather heavily as she stood up. He gave her that enigmatic smile of his that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he was looking at Walter.
‘Would you mind,’ he asked Walter, ‘if Mary danced the last waltz with me?’
‘Aye, go on then,’ Walter said, after a moment’s hesitation, then he added the word ‘sir’ on seeing the doctor’s army rank.
The short walk between table and dance floor was completely lost on Mary. She couldn’t remember how her legs had carried her the distance. It was as if she had been magically transported. One minute she was trying to persuade Walter to dance and the next, well, here she was whirling in the arms of Dr Alex Craig who looked so good in his captain’suniform and danced so well. And she was determined to enjoy the experience , since it might be the last time she would ever see him.
‘You dance as beautifully as you sing, Mary,’ he said, his warm breath wafting across her forehead, stirring stray tendrils of hair that she had tried in vain to straighten and capture in a blue slide to match her dress.
‘Thank you,’ she said, thinking that she sounded like a star-struck little girl, and feeling exactly like that. ‘So do you, Dr Craig ….er … Captain Craig …’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’d prefer it if you dropped all titles and called me Alex, since it’s my last night here.’
‘Oh, but …’ She raised her eyes to his, conscious of his arm tightening around her and again the firm squeeze of his hand. Goodness, was he flirting with her? No, she was sure it wasn’t that, but … ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife … Alex?’
A cloud came over his face. A dark, unfathomable cloud. She thought she must have said the wrong thing and he was angry with her, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost like a caress.
‘My wife prefers to be elsewhere, Mary. I’m being selfish, but please, just humour me for the rest of this dance.’
The rest of the dance was too short by far. Mary wished with every step that it would last for ever. And in the same breath, she told herself how stupid it was to feel like this about a man she hardly knew, and could never have.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘E EH , when we all stood up and sung ‘Auld Lang Syne’ I wept buckets!’
Jenny West was chattering merrily about Saturday night’s benefit as she and Mary dished out the Christmas Day lunch for the family gathered about the table in the living-room. The old table had been extended as long as was possible and everybody was squeezed in, elbow to elbow, but they didn’t mind. It was Christmas and they were all putting the war on hold and enjoying themselves.
‘You weren’t the only one, Mam,’ Mary said, spooning sage and onion stuffing on each plate as her mother sliced off more turkey. ‘There were quite a few tears and not all of them were from women either.’
‘A bit more stuffing on your dad’s plate, Mary,’ Jenny said, inspecting the row of plates that were lined up on every available surface in the scullery, which was full of steam and the succulent smells of roasting meat and boiling vegetables. ‘And give him an extra roast potato. He needs building up with all the extra work he’s doing these days. I don’t know. In the pit all day, patrolling the streets at night. He’ll knock himself up.’
‘He’s wiry, Mam. He’ll be all right. Anyway, I’m sure it makes him feel better, knowing he’s doing his bit for England.’
Mary’s father had been one of the many veterans of the First World War to stand to attention with tears welling up in their eyes as the band had played the very last tune of the night at the benefit. Mary herself had found it hard to get the emotional wobble out of her voice as she sang the words to ‘God Save the King’.
As she sang, she had turned and found Alex Craig’s brooding eyes on her. Something in his expression touched her heart,
‘Would you mind,’ he asked Walter, ‘if Mary danced the last waltz with me?’
‘Aye, go on then,’ Walter said, after a moment’s hesitation, then he added the word ‘sir’ on seeing the doctor’s army rank.
The short walk between table and dance floor was completely lost on Mary. She couldn’t remember how her legs had carried her the distance. It was as if she had been magically transported. One minute she was trying to persuade Walter to dance and the next, well, here she was whirling in the arms of Dr Alex Craig who looked so good in his captain’suniform and danced so well. And she was determined to enjoy the experience , since it might be the last time she would ever see him.
‘You dance as beautifully as you sing, Mary,’ he said, his warm breath wafting across her forehead, stirring stray tendrils of hair that she had tried in vain to straighten and capture in a blue slide to match her dress.
‘Thank you,’ she said, thinking that she sounded like a star-struck little girl, and feeling exactly like that. ‘So do you, Dr Craig ….er … Captain Craig …’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’d prefer it if you dropped all titles and called me Alex, since it’s my last night here.’
‘Oh, but …’ She raised her eyes to his, conscious of his arm tightening around her and again the firm squeeze of his hand. Goodness, was he flirting with her? No, she was sure it wasn’t that, but … ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife … Alex?’
A cloud came over his face. A dark, unfathomable cloud. She thought she must have said the wrong thing and he was angry with her, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost like a caress.
‘My wife prefers to be elsewhere, Mary. I’m being selfish, but please, just humour me for the rest of this dance.’
The rest of the dance was too short by far. Mary wished with every step that it would last for ever. And in the same breath, she told herself how stupid it was to feel like this about a man she hardly knew, and could never have.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘E EH , when we all stood up and sung ‘Auld Lang Syne’ I wept buckets!’
Jenny West was chattering merrily about Saturday night’s benefit as she and Mary dished out the Christmas Day lunch for the family gathered about the table in the living-room. The old table had been extended as long as was possible and everybody was squeezed in, elbow to elbow, but they didn’t mind. It was Christmas and they were all putting the war on hold and enjoying themselves.
‘You weren’t the only one, Mam,’ Mary said, spooning sage and onion stuffing on each plate as her mother sliced off more turkey. ‘There were quite a few tears and not all of them were from women either.’
‘A bit more stuffing on your dad’s plate, Mary,’ Jenny said, inspecting the row of plates that were lined up on every available surface in the scullery, which was full of steam and the succulent smells of roasting meat and boiling vegetables. ‘And give him an extra roast potato. He needs building up with all the extra work he’s doing these days. I don’t know. In the pit all day, patrolling the streets at night. He’ll knock himself up.’
‘He’s wiry, Mam. He’ll be all right. Anyway, I’m sure it makes him feel better, knowing he’s doing his bit for England.’
Mary’s father had been one of the many veterans of the First World War to stand to attention with tears welling up in their eyes as the band had played the very last tune of the night at the benefit. Mary herself had found it hard to get the emotional wobble out of her voice as she sang the words to ‘God Save the King’.
As she sang, she had turned and found Alex Craig’s brooding eyes on her. Something in his expression touched her heart,
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