When the Lights Come on Again (31 page)

‘Some people have a real struggle. Lots of people need to be educated about things like hygiene.’

‘I know,’ he agreed again. She looked into his hazel eyes and thought that maybe he did.

‘Drink your tea,’ he said gently.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

‘We’re two nations, aren’t we? It’s hard to see how anything positive could come out of a war, but if the country’s going to ask everyone to get involved - men, women and children - then surely it owes something to those people when it’s all over. Perhaps we might even manage to get rid of the blasted class system.’

He smiled at her look of surprise. ‘Much though it might astonish you, Miss MacMillan, I think it holds us back too. You don’t have to be a communist and want a revolution. There are peaceful ways of achieving change.’

The train was almost empty. They found a vacant compartment quite easily.

‘I do like sugar in my tea,’ Liz confided, making conversation about nothing because she was so tired, ‘although I suppose I’ll have to give it up if rationing comes in. D’you think it will?’

‘Maybe,’ he said vaguely. ‘I don’t know.’ His voice was thick with tiredness, and she could feel his body settling into lines of fatigue as they sat back together on the cushioned bench seat.

Jim Barclay passed their compartment. He poked his head through the lowered window in the closed door.

‘I knew there was a reason why I’d bought this
Glasgow Herald
,’ he told Liz. ‘There’s a letter to the editor here suggesting that Britain and Germany should simply agree not to bomb one another’s cities. How very civilized.’ The sarcasm was heavy.

‘So have we all been engaged on a fruitless journey and an unnecessary effort today? We could have left the wee horrors where they were?’

‘I wish,’ said the young man wearily. ‘Going to find somewhere to stretch out, MacMillan. See you later.’

He gave her a wave and passed on up the carriage. He wasn’t the only one who was dog-tired. As Jim had been talking to her, Adam’s head had been gradually nodding towards her shoulder. It came to rest, warm and heavy and solid. Was he asleep? She tried to squint at his face to find out, but it was too close to her own.

‘Adam?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Adam?’ she asked again.

There was no reply. It would be cruel to disturb him. And on a day like today, when all of them thought they knew only too well what tomorrow might bring, there was something very reassuring about his closeness.

He was still asleep when the train got to Glasgow. Liz had been unwilling to waken him until the very last minute. If she were writing a prescription for him and Jim she wouldn’t bother with sulphonamides or any new wonder drug. She’d go for regular meals and a few good nights’ sleep.

As the train came to a halt she edged away from Adam a fraction - as much as she could with the weight of his head on her shoulder. Gosh, it was heavy. All that brain power, no doubt.

Tired as he was, he did have to get off the train. Liz lifted her free hand to give him a shake. The door of the compartment shrieked its protest as someone pushed it open abruptly.

Liz turned to give the noisy person a telling-off. The words died on her lips. It was Mario.

Twenty-four

He looked very serious, but his sombre expression lightened when he saw the sleeping Adam, dead to the world and still slumped against Liz. She felt the beginnings of a blush as Mario stood looking down at the two of them.

‘Should I be jealous?’

‘Don’t be daft! It’s only Adam.’

Ridiculous to think of anyone being jealous of her and Adam. Ridiculous that she was blushing. Why should Mario Rossi be jealous anyway? To cover her growing embarrassment she turned to Adam and gave him a shake.

‘Adam. We’re back in Glasgow. Wake up, Adam.’

His eyelids fluttered open. He gave her the sweetest of smiles, murmured her first name and closed them again. Mario laughed, bent forward and physically hauled Adam upright.

‘Buchanan. You’re leaning on my girl’s shoulder. Shift yourself.’

My girl?
Liz rose to her feet, moving her freed shoulder up and down to relieve the stiffness in it. She turned awkwardly in the confined space and stood as far away as she could from Mario. Which wasn’t very far. It was a good job they had Adam to focus on.

‘What?’ He straightened up so quickly it was comical to watch. Then he sank back against the cushions again, blinking. His thick fair hair mussed up from the prolonged contact with Liz’s shoulder, he looked like a startled lion cub.

‘You’ve been asleep leaning on Liz, you idiot,’ said Mario, throwing a grin at her. She tried to smile back, but she imagined that she looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. Mr Rossi’s smile ought to be registered as a lethal weapon. Thank God, once more, for Adam.

‘What?’ he asked again, yawning hugely. He looked up at the two of them. ‘Sorry, MacMillan. I do beg your pardon.’

‘Nae bother,’ Liz said, smiling down at him. ‘Nae bother at all.’

There was a commotion in the corridor outside. Mario stood hurriedly aside as Cordelia Maclntyre came hurtling into the compartment. She threw herself down next to Adam. One glance at her face was enough to know that she’d had some bad news: so bad she was incapable of expressing it in words.

With a cry of ‘Oh, Adam!’ she turned her face into his shoulder, breaking into loud sobs. His arm came round her in an instant.

‘That’s what I came to tell you,’ said Mario. ‘Looks like Cordelia’s already found out. It’s been all over the wireless today.’

‘What has?’ demanded Liz, looking with concern at Cordelia weeping on Adam’s shoulder. She didn’t much like the girl, but she couldn’t witness such obvious distress and remain unmoved.

Mario took a grim pleasure in being the bearer of bad tidings. ‘While you were having your trip to the seaside, my children,’ he told them, ‘enjoying the pleasures of the Ayrshire coast, the Germans were enjoying the pleasures of Poland. They marched over the border this morning.’

Adam tightened his grip on the weeping Cordelia and looked up at Liz and Mario, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘So now it can only be a matter of hours.’

Persuaded by silent messages from both men that the most tactful course of action was to beat a strategic retreat and leave Cordelia to Adam, Liz got off the train and walked up the platform with Mario. She’d expected hustle and bustle, but the big station was eerily deserted, the few passengers coming off the train dispersing quickly and passing out under the portico into the September evening.

‘Lots of trains have been cancelled, apparently,’ said Mario when she commented on the unusual emptiness of the station. ‘Most of the Clyde steamers are off too. They’re running a skeleton service for the folk who live on the islands, but there’ll be no pleasure trips this weekend.’

Amelia Buchanan passed them on the concourse, giving them both a cheerful wave.

‘Is that why you came to meet the train?’ asked Liz, watching Adam’s mother going out of the station and disappearing round a corner out of sight. She must be heading for the taxi rank. Adam was probably going to drive Cordelia home to her flat in the West End once she had recovered. The Buchanans were a considerate family. She repeated her question.

‘Did you come to meet us to tell us the news?’

‘No.’

Funny how one little word could carry so much meaning. Mario smiled when he saw how she was mulling it over.

‘Stop here for a minute,’ he said, indicating a large pillar. ‘Please?’ Liz put her back to it and waited for him to speak.

‘I came to apologize for last night.’

She couldn’t think of what to say. He said it for her. At least, he articulated what he thought was the problem.

‘You’re very shy, aren’t you?’ His voice was soft. ‘With boys, I mean.’

‘I suppose I am,’ she managed, and dropped her eyes.

‘Look at me, Elisabetta. Please?’

His voice was like dark brown velvet smooth, warm and comforting. She couldn’t resist it: especially when he called her by the Italian version of her name.

‘Would you like to try again?’

‘Not the pictures.’

He smiled ruefully. ‘No, not the pictures. I thought we might try it the Italian way. How about having a meal with my father and me? This Sunday maybe, after your stint at the hospital?’

Liz liked the sound of the Italian way. A meal with his father as chaperone. She lifted her chin.

‘I’d love to. Thank you.’

Before she had time to realize what was happening, a smiling Mario bobbed forward and pressed a swift kiss on her forehead.

‘What big eyes you’ve got!’

He was laughing at her. Then he saw something in those big eyes which took the smile off his handsome face.

‘Och, Liz. Don’t panic. I’m not planning on going any further.’ What he said next sent goosebumps racing up and down her spine. ‘Not unless and until you ask me to.’

Liz swallowed. ‘That might not be for a long time.’

‘That’s all right. I can be patient.’

Could he? Perhaps that was all she needed. And if she could work at getting rid of these silly inhibitions, perhaps she need never tell him about Eric Mitchell. But was it fair to keep him hanging on?

‘Why are you bothering with me?’ she asked. ‘You could get any girl you wanted.’

‘I don’t want any girl. I want you. And don’t you ever look in the mirror, Liz?’

That made her smile.

‘You’re as charming as your father - and as big a liar.’

Adam and Cordelia were walking slowly towards them. He had his arm draped about her shoulders. ‘I’m taking Cordelia for a quick drink.’

Mario looked concerned. ‘Should you not have something to eat as well, Cordelia? You look awfully pale.’

‘She doesn’t want to be home too late,’ said Adam. ‘She’s very tired.’ Cordelia seemed content to let him speak for her. ‘You must be tired too, Liz,’ he added, turning to her. ‘If you want to come with us, I’ll drop you off after I’ve taken Cordelia home.’

Liz shook her head. She couldn’t imagine that Cordelia would welcome her company tonight.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine on the train.’

‘I’ll look after her,’ promised Mario. ‘See her safely on to it. How about we all come into town tomorrow night to see the blackout? We could meet up here.’

Amusement lit up Adam’s weary face.

‘To see the blackout? Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’

Stumbling bleary-eyed out of bed on Saturday morning, Liz pulled on her dressing gown, thrust her feet into her slippers and padded through to the kitchen. She would make herself some tea and take it back to bed with her. With a bit of luck nobody else was up yet.

Her hand on the round knob, she pushed the door open and stood there for a minute. Everybody was up: her mother, her father and Eddie. He gestured towards the
Glasgow Herald
, lying on the table in front of them, sliding the paper round so that she could read it The headline stood out in heavy black letters:
GERMANY INVADES POLAND.

Pulling out a chair, Liz sank down into it. ‘I haven’t been having a nightmare, then.’