Free A Christmas Promise by Annie Groves

sent over from America by his father specially for this day and which Drew vowed would be a temporary attachment.
    ‘What do you think?’ he said proudly, standing to attention at the side of his bed, which he had made himself even though the whole lot would be scrubbed and cleaned as soon as he vacated the room, as it was after every patient.
    ‘Oh, very smart, I must say,’ Sally beamed, taking in the plain, good quality navy-blue material of his suit, the broad-shouldered, loose-fitting jacket worn over a pristine white shirt, which, she assumed, would be handmade.
    Drew’s father had all his clothes, even pyjamas, sent over from their tailor in America, and as Sally took in the plain but most certainly expensive gold cufflinks and blue silk tie, she said, ‘We’ll be sorry to see you go.’ Then she added, ‘I haven’t said anything … at home.’
    Drew nodded; he knew exactly what she meant and he was glad that she was so discreet. It would be so much easier. The room grew silent and Drew shifted a little, looking uncomfortable, Sally thought, and why wouldn’t he? He had been stuck in this place for months.
    ‘I’ve been working so hard for this day,’ he said, breaking the oppressive silence, vaguely patting his pocket to check for something that Sally could not distinguish. Then, as if satisfied, he beamed one of those handsome smiles that had all the young nurses agog.
    ‘Do I look all right, Sal?’ He seemed nervous all of a sudden.
    ‘You look great,’ Sally said, proud of the fact that he had endured the gruelling months of recovery with such fortitude. Such suffering as he had been through would have finished off a weaker man.
    ‘Do I look good enough to go to a wedding?’ It was apparent he was eager for her response.
    ‘Well, you’d have to put some shoes and socks on, of course.’ Sally laughed, looking down at his bare feet. ‘But you look good enough to go to the Palace, never mind a wedding – why, who’s getting married?’
    ‘I am,’ said Drew. and suddenly alarm bells rang in Sally’s head.
    *
    ‘Will there be a reply?’ the telegraph boy asked, and Olive shook her head. She didn’t have a clue what the telegram would say and she didn’t want to either. The young lad from the Post Office went back to his bicycle.
    Olive felt her throat constrict as Barney stood beside her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. For once, Nancy was silent, her gaping mouth covered by the four fingers of her right hand. Olive regarded the official-looking cable in her hand. Every instinct told her to rip it open, find out what it said. But she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking too much.
    ‘Shall I open it for you, Aunty Olive?’ Barney said in that gentle, mature tone she had heard Archie use so often. Silently, too shaken to speak, she handed him the envelope. If anything had happened to her precious darling Tilly she didn’t know what she would do. How could she go on if her only daughter – her only child – had been injured, or … worse.
    She watched Barney slip his forefinger under the flap of the envelope as if she was watching a scene from the pictures. This was happening to someone else, not to her! His long, sensitive fingers, which handled the chickens so expertly, so tenderly, were taking out the piece of paper from within the envelope … and he silently read the words.
    He was quiet for a moment before he raised tearful eyes and said to Olive in a low voice, ‘It’s Tilly.’
    Olive took in an anguished, painful gasp of air. All she wanted to do was run. She didn’t know where she wanted to run to, but she knew she didn’t want to hear it if Barney had bad news for her. He put his hand on her arm as if to steady her and Olive knew she had to hear what the telegram said one way or the other.
    She couldn’t move as the painful cry caught in her throat and she found it hard to swallow … Then she saw Barney’s expression change … and he was smiling.
    ‘Oh, no,