Wartime Sweethearts Read Online Free PDF Page A

silence. There was an air of anticipation, as though they were playing tennis and Mary had batted the ball in her sister’s direction. Now it was Ruby’s turn to bat it back. She had to say something.
    ‘I won’t be working behind the bar in future,’ she finally said.
    Mary nodded and continued sorting the apples before commenting. ‘So he finally showed his true colours.’
    Ruby adopted an air of denial. ‘I don’t know what you mean. I just said, I won’t be working behind the bar in future.’
    Mary was not fooled, but hearing pain in Ruby’s voice, put the apples and her paring knife down on the scrubbed pine table, stood behind her sister and rested her chin on her shoulder.
    She looked sideways up into her face, their cheeks touching. ‘I’m sorry but I’m glad it’s over. You’re too good for him.’
    ‘That’s nice to know.’
    Mary’s chin dug into Ruby’s shoulder.
    ‘What’s the matter with Frances?’ Mary asked.
    Ruby moved away from the window. ‘Is something the matter?’ Ruby replied trying not to sound defensive. Despite the fact that she was still wearing her best dress, she began setting up the electric mixer that helped to turn flour, water and yeast into bread dough.
    Ruby made a big show of shovelling flour into the aluminium bowl of the huge mixer. She had no wish to look at the face that was identical to her own; china blue eyes, dark lashes, finely arched eyebrows. She had no wish to be reminded that her sister’s face was blemish-free. ‘I think you know there is.’
    Ruby was aware that Mary was eyeing her intently, but would not meet her gaze. She had already decided on the walk back that she would not repeat what Frances had said. It couldn’t be true. She refused to believe it.
    ‘I hadn’t noticed there was anything wrong. Where is she?’ She hoped she only sounded mildly concerned.
    ‘Upstairs. In her bedroom. I heard her door slam. Do you want to help me with these apples? There’s half a sack. I thought I would make apple rings. They should keep well in the outhouse. I’ve got a sulphur candle and plenty of twigs and string.’
    ‘And apple chutney?’
    Mary nodded. ‘I think so. I’m also considering making apple bread for the baking competition, a nice country loaf – almost a cake. Do you think the judges will like it?’
    ‘Not pies?’
    ‘I don’t think so. Every woman in this village can bake an apple pie. But apple bread, nice moist dough flavoured with a little cinnamon – well, that’s something else. Lucky for us we’ve got the bread ovens. What are you going to make?’
    Ruby shrugged. It had occurred to her to bake an apple pie, but wasn’t sure now following Mary’s comment. ‘I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.’
    The fact was that she wasn’t thinking about it at all. Still smarting from her treatment at the hands of the man she thought had loved her, it would do no good to say she couldn’t possibly concentrate on baking, all because of Gareth Stead. If she said that her sister would want to know exactly what had gone on. She had already commented about Gareth showing his true colours. There were rarely secrets between them. Mary had guessed or somebody – Frances, perhaps – had told her.
    Ruby’s father spoke to her quietly when she was washing up after a slap-up tea of Victoria sponge, a cream-topped trifle and apple tart generously sprinkled with sugar. He’d come in to help himself to another cuppa, certain his daughter would be alone. It was the first chance he’d had to speak to her about her losing her job at the Apple Tree, which evidently he’d heard about from her sister.
    ‘So no more bar work. Can’t say I’m sorry. You’re worth better things than that.’
    She nodded. ‘I’m glad you think so, Dad.’
    She felt his eyes on her and knew it wasn’t really the job he was referring to. What he was really saying was that she was worthy of a better man than Gareth Stead.
    ‘I know so,’ he