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

find her remark in the least bit amusing, though Kathleen’s lips twitched upwards.

‘Really,’ Penelope said languorously as she picked up a silver cigarette holder and popped a cigarette into the small cavity. ‘One of the boat girls. I’ve heard of them.’ She looked down her nose.

‘I bet it’s jolly hard work,’ ventured Kathleen.

‘But not really for proper women, I wouldn’t think,’ Penelope said sweetly, ‘carting a load of coal or flour or whatever you have to carry back and forth, ruining your nails.’ She casually inspected her own beautifully manicured and varnished red … well, ‘claws’ was the only word Ronnie could think of. ‘I wondered why you were wearing those rubber boots.’ She smiled, but it didn’t reach her ice-blue eyes. ‘Well, now I see.’

Ronnie forced herself not to put her hands behind her back, feeling like a stupid schoolgirl who’d been caught in a prank as Michael glanced at her feet. He looked up and winked at her.

‘I must say, Ronnie, you look very fetching in that dress … and the colour suits you to a T.’

She gave him a sharp look. Was he mocking her? Then she saw his warm smile and twinkling eyes. She felt the tension leave her stomach – until a spark of inquisitiveness flashed across Penelope’s face.

‘So, Ronnie … or should that really be Veronica?’ she said.

‘No, it’s not Veronica, but the French version – Véronique.’ Ronnie made sure she gave the ‘r’ the full French roll.

‘How delightful.’ Penelope threw her head back with a throaty laugh. ‘And how very sophisticated.’ She stared pointedly at Ronnie’s Wellingtons again, then the heavily made-up eyes stared at Ronnie. ‘So how do you know Michael?’

‘Oh, the sarge and I were carrying out a routine inspection on the canals,’ Michael said casually before Ronnie could think of an answer.

She breathed out, thankful he hadn’t mentioned anything about Margaret having had a fatal accident. She couldn’t have borne it in front of this woman who didn’t look as though she could ever muster a grain of sympathy. Kathleen looked so much friendlier with the same twinkle in her eyes as her brother’s. Ronnie wondered what Kathleen could possibly have in common with this Penelope.

Fascinated, Ronnie watched as Penelope waved her cigarette in Michael’s direction. He didn’t appear to notice and she wanted to hug him for it. Then she remembered how he’d held her in his arms when he’d had to tell her Margaret had died. A warmth crept up her neck.

‘Michael …?’

‘What? Oh, sorry, Penelope.’

Ronnie watched, fascinated, as Michael felt in his pocket and produced a lighter. He flicked it on. Penelope leaned forward, cupping her hand possessively around Michael’s as she did so, then inhaling deeply before she finally dropped her hand from his and briefly closed her eyes in seeming bliss. What a show-off. Penelope was doing this whole pantomime on purpose, Ronnie was certain, to let her see how close she and Michael were. Well, the show was all in vain, as far as Ronnie was concerned. The woman could have him.

Nevertheless, she was relieved to see Jess rush over and break whatever spell Penelope seemed to have woven around herself.

‘There you are, Ronnie. I wondered where you’d got to. Have you had a dance yet? You must … on your birthday. It’s a lovely sprung floor – just dreamy.’ Jessica drew breath. ‘Anyway, then I saw you with Constable Scott.’ She beamed at him. ‘What are the chances of that?’

‘Oh, Michael … please,’ he said, springing to his feet and extending his hand. ‘Hello, Jessica. I should be asking you and Ronnie the same question. I was visiting my family in Oxford and Kath told me she and Penelope had tickets for tonight so Penelope managed to wangle an extra one for me.’

I bet she did. Ronnie forced herself to keep her expression neutral.

Michael quickly introduced his sister and Penelope to Jessica. Ronnie noticed Penelope’s eyes narrow a fraction as her gaze lingered on Jess, who took the seat Michael pulled out.

Serves her right to have a bit of competition, Ronnie thought, aware she was being childish.

‘Do sit down, Ronnie,’ Michael said. He cocked his ear and Ronnie noticed the band had changed tempo. ‘Better still, as it’s your special day, may I ask you for a dance?’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ronnie stared at Michael’s smiling face. Why on earth had he asked her to dance? He’d seen her boots. Was he laughing at her expense?

‘What a scream your Ronnie was,’ she imagined Penelope saying to Michael afterwards. ‘She must have known you were only joking. Fancy saying yes and clodding around the floor in those rubber boots.’

Ronnie glanced at Kathleen, who gave her a gentle nod. Penelope stared at her, a challenge in those cold eyes. Something snapped. She’d bloody well take him up on his offer. Whether he meant to humiliate her or not, she’d carry it through with as much dignity as she could muster.

She looked directly at Michael. ‘Only trouble is’ – she began, deliberately hesitating so Penelope would think she was about to decline – ‘the last time I tried a quickstep my partner hadn’t got a clue and trod all over me.’

‘That must be the reason why she’s wearing protection on her feet tonight,’ Penelope said, looking round the table and smirking.

Ronnie was gratified that no one seemed to be taking any notice of the woman.

‘Well, you won’t have to worry about that with me,’ Michael said, smiling broadly. ‘I’m no Fred Astaire but my mother proudly framed my Beginners’ Dancing Certificate.’

‘In that case I’ll just take my boots off.’ She couldn’t resist a sidelong glance at Penelope who sent Michael a look of utter astonishment, then tapped the cigarette stub into the ashtray so vehemently that little puffs of ash floated in the air. Ronnie fought a gurgle of laughter as she sat on the chair and bent to take off her left boot.

‘You show ’em, Ronnie,’ Jessica grinned.

‘Here, let me,’ Michael said.

Ronnie hesitated, but only for