The Girls in Blue by Lily Baxter Read Free Book Online

garage the ageing Bentley. Parked next to it and hidden beneath dust sheets was her Uncle Jack’s yellow and black roadster, Chloe. She lifted the covers and ran her fingers over the glossy surface of the bonnet. Poor Chloe, she thought, how undignified for the old girl to be laid up like an invalid while Uncle Jack was away fighting for his country. It seemed a shame to see his pride and joy mothballed and suffering from neglect.
    Miranda closed her eyes as she recalled the heady days before Jack had joined the RAF. He had given up his much hated job in the City and had come home, spending the summer in an alcoholic haze after partying until dawn while he waited for a place in pilot training school. She was only too well aware that her father disapproved of his younger brother’s playboy lifestyle, and although her mother admitted a soft spot for Jack, she made no secret of the fact that she thought it high time he settled down and behaved like a responsible adult.
    Miranda had never forgotten a conversation she had overheard as a child. Her mother had been taking tea with a friend and they had been chatting while Miranda was supposed to be doing her homework. ‘Jack was an afterthought,’ Jeanne had said in hushed tones, which had made Miranda prick up her ears. ‘Ronnie says that Jack has always been an embarrassment,’ her mother had continued in a disapproving tone. ‘He was a menopausal surprise and his sister Eileen’s nose was put out of joint when he arrived on the scene. After all, the poor child had been the centre of attention for twelve years and then suddenly she has a baby brother to steal the limelight. No wonder she married the first man who proposed to her. I think living with that boring civil servant in Nairobi was preferable to returning to England and playing second fiddle to Jack. In fact I’m certain that Ronnie only went to Sandhurst in order to get away from his mad family.’
    Her friend had jerked her head in Miranda’s direction. ‘Little pitchers have big ears, Jeanne.’
    Miranda had attempted to melt into the background but her mother had turned on her, frowning. ‘Don’t you dare repeat a word of this when you visit your grandparents in the summer. Anyway, shouldn’t you be doing your homework, or something?’
    Miranda sighed. She adored her mother, but as a child she had sometimes felt she was in the way, especially when her father came home on leave. She had often felt excluded by her parents’ need to reestablish their relationship. If she had had a brother or sister things might have been different: she would have had an ally in the household, someone to play with or even to squabble with when she was younger. As an adolescent she had found herself relegated to the position of being seen but not heard. She was the token well-behaved, neatly dressed, perfectly mannered daughter, who sat silently in the back seat of the car during family outings which almost inevitably turned into romantic dates for the reunited lovers. Left to her own devices, Miranda had learned to be patient and wait for her presence to be remembered or even noticed.
    With Uncle Jack it was different. He had always treated her like a chum, but then Jack had a reputation as a ladies’ man. He had been engaged more times than Miranda could remember, and had had his heart broken each time a relationship ended, or so he said, but he seemed to bounce back quickly enough. When he was not chasing some bit of fluff, as he called his lady friends, or suffering from a dreadful hangover, he had occasionally taken Miranda out for a spin in Chloe. It had been exhilarating to speed through the quiet Dorset lanes with the wind taking her breath away and whipping her hair into a tangled mass. Jack always drove much too fast, accelerating when he came to a humpback bridge and making Chloe fly through the air, coming down with a bump that made Miranda laugh and protest that they had left her stomach behind. She smiled to