A Nightingale Sang Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 Make Do and Mend.

They walked in stony silence across the base. Margaret had wasted no time pointing out how unsuitable the old huts were and demanded that Flight Lieutenant Thornton accompany her at once to see for himself what they were like.

After a few minutes John shortened his stride and slowed his pace, realising that she was struggling to keep up. He glanced sideways at her. She was a petite woman her head barely reaching his shoulder. Perched on her head was her cap, alike and yet strangely different to his own. The Air Force blue colour was the same as was the peaked front, but hers had a pleated crown that moulded itself to the softly curling hair. He could not help but notice how it exposed the nape of her neck. The whole uniform should not be at all flattering, but it was. If the shoes did nothing for her ankles the skirts length did display a pair of shapely calves. The belted jacket, so like his, emphasised her waist, and because of the length it flared at her hips hinting at the curves below. Feeling himself growing a tad warmer he increased his pace slightly.

Margaret found herself hurrying to keep up. How tall was the man, his long legged strides certainly ate up the ground. It occurred to her that he was much taller than the other pilots she had seen about. The single blue colour of his uniform emphasised his height especially the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders. Unlike a lot of tall men she knew, his posture was impeccable no stooping at all, she guessed that was as a result of being in the RAF. He appeared older than a lot of the other pilots on the base. His peaked hat, which was placed perfectly straight and low on top of his dark hair, and serious countenance, just added to his stately persona.

John came to a halt in front of the huts. He wished he had found an opportunity to view them himself before allowing her to, but his squadron were up training as much as possible. He just had not had the time. How in the world were these huts to be made habitable in a week? He turned in a circle to look about the camp, he could see another problem the huts were nowhere near the air raid shelter. In the event of an attack the women would have to run across the base. He turned back to the sorry looking huts, and tipped his cap back on his head to get a better view. His brow creased into a frown, the women could not stay here unless a lot of work was done.

Margaret watched him closely, the way he pushed his hat back was so disarming and charming. He suddenly seemed much younger, and was obvious genuinely dismayed by the huts appearance.

"Welcome to the Ritz Flight Lieutenant." She smiled as she spoke.

He looked down into her smiling face and felt as if he had been pole axed. His breath caught in his throat. Her face was radiant, lit as it was by the mischievous smile that caused her beautiful eyes to sparkle. How pale and soft her complexion. Would it feel as soft as it looked? His fingers slowly moved as he imagined stroking her cheek. Assistant Section Officer Hale, Lord he didn't even know her first name, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, not that he had spent much time with the opposite sex. Learning how to run the mill had taken so much time and energy, he had had little time for socialising. John was stunned by the suddenness and intensity of these feelings. What would she a southern lady, all airs and graces, ever see in a socially inept Northern mill owner? No better by far to aim for being friends and colleagues.

"Miss Hale as you are about to take me into the Ritz," a smile flashed across his face. "Do you think you could call me by my first name? It's John."

The shy hesitant request and accompanying smile would linger long in Margaret's memory. Had she thought him staid and stately, his rare smile altered that, not just because of the way his lips parted to reveal pearl white even teeth but because of the light that entered his jewel bright eyes, eyes she noted that were framed with long sooty lashes and that crinkled delightfully at the corners.

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