A Sister's War Molly Green (e book reader pdf .txt) 📖

carrying all sorts of baskets and boxes. A couple of girls, heads close together as they gossiped, their baskets piled with bunting, some of it trailing over the sides, made their way towards the High Street and village hall.

How fast things were changing. Her beloved Raine was already married, and her dearest Suzy was about to go off to the other side of the world. She wasn’t happy about that with the war still raging in the Far East, but she knew nothing she or the others would say to try to dissuade her would make any difference to her sister’s decision. And Maman … well, her mother’s life had changed drastically since she and Pierre were married. Ronnie felt as though she was the only one standing in the same spot while the swirl of her family spun around her.

She shook herself. She mustn’t think like this. She had her darling Michael. And today was going to be the best day ever. Victory in Europe. She pulled down the sash and at the sound Rusty leapt from his basket and licked her hand as she fastened his smart Union Jack coat that Suzy had made him. Then she threw on a dressing gown and with Rusty at her heels, barking joyfully, she ran down the stairs.

‘Be good, Rusty,’ Ronnie warned him as she opened the kitchen door. ‘You know you’re not supposed to be in here. Maman would have a fit.’ She stepped in. ‘Morning, Papa.’ She kissed Pierre’s cheek. ‘That smell is making me feel hungry.’

‘Good morning, chérie. There is some toast I have made on the stove. And some scrambled egg – with real eggs,’ he added.

‘Have you had yours?’ Ronnie asked.

‘Only coffee. I could not eat a thing.’

‘It’s a lot to take in,’ Ronnie laughed, scooping some egg from the saucepan and placing it on a slice of toast. ‘Anything exciting makes me eat double my usual.’

He gave her one of his warm smiles. ‘You have a very physical job,’ he said. ‘You need extra nourishment.’

Ronnie grinned. ‘I must say it’s good to see you’ve put some weight on since the wedding,’ she said, ‘but it wouldn’t have happened if Maman was in charge of the kitchen.’

‘She does not like the cooking,’ Pierre said. ‘Lucky for her that I love it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Well, I must be going. I said I will help to decorate the church.’

‘Surely it’s too early.’

‘I will first have a walk,’ he said. ‘I am used to having time alone.’

Not for the first time Ronnie wondered how he’d coped in the war. But she didn’t like to ask. He probably wanted to forget it.

‘That sounds a good idea,’ she said. ‘But don’t forget the bus goes at a quarter to two so we’ll be at the hospital dead on half past.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to waste a minute of visiting hours.’

‘Nor do I,’ Pierre smiled, and it made his face light up.

Ronnie grinned back. What a handsome man he was. No wonder Maman had fallen for him the first time they met. He was different from Dad, of course, but Pierre was just as thoughtful and kind. Ronnie had to smile. Suzy was his spitting image.

‘But you must be prepared when you see her,’ Pierre went on. ‘Your maman has been very weak. But now she becomes more strong each day. She will be looking forward to this afternoon with all her daughters.’

The bus to Bromley was packed with people, laughing and cheering, knowing that Mr Churchill would be making his announcement at three o’clock. Ronnie was amazed to see the villagers had already put the bunting up in the streets like a canopy, flags waving victoriously from lampposts and windows. Mothers, still in their aprons, were carrying trays of food, chattering and laughing, ready to prepare for the biggest village party they knew they were ever likely to attend, and the men, nearly all in uniform and wearing rosettes, were setting up the trestle tables. Shrieking children darted in and out, kicking balls in the empty road, and throwing their caps in the air, the older ones blowing up balloons and dangling them from trees.

‘Gosh, they’re even bringing out a piano!’ Suzanne said, twisting her neck round as the bus began to move.

‘You’ll have to give them a tune when we get back,’ Raine grinned.

‘Bromley General Hospital,’ the conductor finally called out.

Pierre alighted first and held out his hand to steady the three girls as they jumped onto the pavement. Suzanne linked her arm through his as he strode impatiently in front, Raine and Ronnie behind.

‘Look at those two – they even walk the same,’ Raine said, making Ronnie laugh.

As soon as they walked through the hospital door, the first thing Ronnie noticed was the bunting and balloons strung up in the foyer.

‘They’re really getting into the party spirit,’ she said.

‘Your maman is in Ward 8,’ Pierre said. ‘We go through those grand doors.’

A nurse stopped them. ‘Whom have you come to visit?’

Pierre stepped forward. ‘My wife, Mrs Simone Brunelle.’

It still sounded strange to Ronnie’s ear that her mother was no longer a Linfoot.

‘I’m afraid only two visitors are allowed at a time,’ the nurse said. ‘It’s the rule.’

‘You go with him, Suzy,’ Raine said under her breath.

Suzanne frowned and shook her head.

‘May I ask for an exception to the rule,’ Pierre said. ‘These are my daughters.’ He gestured to the three sisters, and Ronnie felt a surge of warmth that he embraced all of them in his smile. ‘I promise we will not stay too long.’

She pursed her lips. ‘I’ll have to check with Sister.’

It was the stern-faced but sympathetic Sister who walked briskly along the corridor with them. ‘We’ve put Mrs Brunelle at the far end by the window,’ she said. ‘As we’ve stretched the rule I’m only giving you forty-five minutes.’

‘Is she all right?’ Ronnie asked anxiously.

‘She’s doing very well,’ Sister said, ‘but we don’t want to tire her.’

‘Is there a