Free The Londoners by Margaret Pemberton Page B

Helliwell, draped in chiffon and triumphantly announcing to everyone that she had foreseen the wedding two years ago; of Miss Godfrey almost unrecognizable in a silk dress instead of her customary
tweed suit; of the sentimental tears shed by Mrs Collins and Carrie’s mother and of the gales of laughter that had rocked the church hall during the reception and the long evening of dancing
that had followed.
    There had been one incident that had marred the day, but only for herself, and she had no intention of discussing the incident with Miss Pierce.
    ‘Everything went off beautifully,’ she said, putting to the back of her mind the moment during the evening celebrations when Mr Nibbs and Daniel Collins and Charlie Robson had been
grouped together nearby her, speculating as to the likelihood of war with Germany. Her father had approached them carrying a tray of drinks and as he did so the subject under discussion had
abruptly swung from speculation about German intent to the latest cricket scores.
    Her father had been happily unaware that the conversation had been doctored for his benefit but she had been acutely aware of it. She had also been uncertain as to how she felt about it. The
most sensible way would have been to view it as being merely over-tactful, but the more she thought about her father’s friends feeling that such tact was necessary, the less she liked it. It
raised the suspicion that they were afraid of his taking Germany’s part, of perhaps even speaking in Hitler’s defence. It certainly meant they no longer thought of him as being one of
themselves.
    ‘And what about the little bridesmaid the bride was so worried about?’ Miss Pierce asked with genuine interest. ‘Did she behave herself?’
    Kate grinned. ‘At the precise moment Carrie was promising to love, honour and obey, Beryl asked the vicar if she could have an orange. Before she could be silenced she explained to him
that she’d been promised one if she was a good little girl and that she’d been a good little girl and was now hungry. It threw the vicar off his stroke rather and I’m sure the
bride could have murdered her, but it was the only time she put a foot wrong.’
    ‘And did she get her orange?’ Miss Pierce asked, highly entertained.
    ‘Her grandad gave her one the minute we all left the church. Neither her mother or grandmother were very pleased as she insisted on sucking at it all the time the photographs were being
taken.’
    Miss Pierce’s smile of amusement deepened. The stiff demeanour that her colleagues found so intimidating masked shyness and she had never before come so near to forming a friendship with
another member of staff. That she was now doing so with a young woman twenty years her junior both surprised and pleased her.
    ‘What a wonderful day you must all have had,’ she said, carefully folding the greaseproof paper that had wrapped her home-made sandwiches and sliding it into the outer pocket of her
capacious handbag. ‘I almost feel as if I know some of your neighbours, especially Miss Helliwell, Miss Godfrey and Mrs Lomax.’
    ‘Mrs Lomax?’ For a brief second Kate didn’t know to whom Miss Pierce was referring.
    ‘The bride’s elder sister. You did say her name was Lomax, didn’t you? The young lady you described as looking rather like Betty Grable.’
    ‘
Mavis?
’ Kate asked incredulously, wondering what on earth she had said that could possibly have prompted Miss Pierce to think of Mavis in troika with Miss Helliwell and
Miss Godfrey.
    ‘Yes. Mavis. She sounds delightful.’
    Kate was completely nonplussed, unable to think of anything she had said that could possibly warrant such an opinion. Certainly at the wedding Mavis had looked amazing. Her peroxide-blonde hair
had been piled high on top of her head and over her forehead in sausage-thick curls. A wisp of turquoise net, the same colour as her figure-hugging two-piece costume, had served as a hat and been
worn at a rakish