Christmas with the Queen

Chapter 35 Olive

Chapter 35

Olive

London, December 1954

S eeing Peter had left more of an impression on me than I’d anticipated. Infuriatingly, I found myself still wildly attracted to him, but there was something else, something beyond the physical pull that had first brought us together back in 1945. He’d changed; softened considerably. The way he was helping his elderly mother and aunt was so considerate, so unlike the Peter I’d known, and that was as attractive as any of his physical traits. Perhaps I had misjudged him all those years ago, and since Jack and I didn’t seem to be moving forward, and I was lonelier than I wanted to admit, I didn’t see the harm in getting to know him again.

Despite the ways in which Peter had changed, I still didn’t expect him to telephone the very next morning.

“How about a walk?” he said.

I smiled into the receiver. “How about a, ‘Hello, Olive. It’s Peter. How are you?’ Are you always this abrupt?”

He laughed. “No point talking about the weather. Can’t be bothered with all that small talk nonsense. Waste of time, and life is short. So, how about it? A walk. You and me. Green Park. This afternoon.”

The Peter I remembered didn’t take romantic walks in parks. The Peter I remembered wouldn’t have telephoned for at least a week.

We arranged to meet at Canada Gate an hour later. Lucy was at a friend’s birthday party, so I had a few hours to spare.

“Where are you off to?” my mother asked, noticing that I’d changed my outfit and added a touch of rouge and lipstick. “And who are you meeting?”

“I’m going for a walk with a friend.”

“The friend you went to visit? Was it him on the telephone just now?”

I wound my scarf around my neck. “Yes, Mum. And his name is Peter Hall. Do you want to come along as my chaperone?”

“No need for sarcasm. I’m only interested, love. We both want you to be happy.”

I kissed her cheek. “I am happy, Mum. I’ll only be a couple of hours. I have to pick Lucy up later.”

“We could collect her? To give you time, if you need it?”

My poor mother was so desperate for me to find a man to settle down with that she would do anything to help.

“Mum, it’s fine. I’m taking a quick walk with Peter, and then I’ll be home. I have to pack for Sandringham anyway.”

Deflated, she threw her hands in the air and pottered through to the kitchen. “I don’t understand you young people. You have no sense of urgency.”

London looked so pretty that afternoon, the gray stone buildings warmed by a soft golden sun. Faces glowed beneath the crisp chill in the air. Colorful winter coats and fur-trimmed hats added a dash of elegance to the usually drab streets. Shop windows had been dressed in their finest festive displays and the scent of roasting chestnuts and cinnamon laced the air as I passed the wine merchants and bakeries.

I made my way toward Constitution Hill and Canada Gate—and there he was.

He’d brought me a Christmas rose from his mother’s garden. “See! I’m not all bad, am I?”

I smiled as he lightly kissed my cheek. “Perhaps not,” I conceded.

Our conversation flowed easily, as it always had. There was no hidden agenda with Peter, no secrets to guess. He was an open book. What was more, he didn’t have a deceased wife to complicate things—and I had no secret I was keeping from him.

When we’d walked for a while, we found a bench and sat down.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Peter said. He looked at me with that disarmingly playful smile in his eyes. “I’d really like to start again, Olive. Do things differently this time. Do things properly. I couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday. Couldn’t wait to see you again. What do you say?”

“I say it’s getting cold, and I could do with a cup of tea.”

He pulled me up from the bench. “Lyons’ Corner House then. Come on. My treat.”

He was, it seemed, impossible to resist, and the smile on my lips was impossible to hide as he turned and gently kissed me. For a moment, I hesitated, but then I gave in to the urge to kiss him back, and we lingered in the thrill of each other as people walked by.

“Tea for two, madame?” he said, smiling as he offered his arm.

“I can’t stay long. I promised Lucy we would decorate the Christmas cake this afternoon when she’s back from a friend’s birthday party.”

“And I have to pack. I’m off again first thing. Long-haul to Singapore.”

“Do you ever get tired of jetting off from here to there, with no real time to settle anywhere?”

“Suits me down to the ground—ironically! I’m not one for settling, Olive. You know me.”

I smiled weakly. “Yes, Peter. I know you.”