White Feathers Read Online Free Page A

rust-coloured feather. She looked poised and elegant but rather nervous. Her hair was an attractive shade of dark blonde and she had wide blue eyes, a small upturned nose and full lips enhanced by a subtle application of pink gloss. Her voice was educated, her manner gracious, if somewhat subdued. Tamar guessed that she came from a well-bred family, so why was she was running about the countryside with two young army officers, evidently about to be married and with no sign of her parents anywhere?
    Never one to beat about the bush, she asked, ‘And will your mother and father be attending the wedding, Lucy? We’d love to meet them.’

    The young couple exchanged quick glances, then James said, ‘No, unfortunately they won’t, Mam. Lucy’s father is very busy with war work at the moment but we visited them in Wellington a few days ago and they gave their permission. They understand that we want to be married before I leave.’
    Tamar looked steadily at James for a moment, waiting to see whether he would add anything to his explanation. He didn’t, but he had never been a good liar and was unable to look her in the eye.
    Joseph had decided fairly quickly that he didn’t like Ron Tarrant. The man looked to be about James’s age, twenty-five, or perhaps a year or two older, and was good-looking in a dark, slightly fleshy way. His hair was sleek and black and had a dent in it where his uniform cap, now balanced on one crossed knee, had sat. A large and luxuriant moustache covered his upper lip and his eyebrows almost met above a strong nose. There was a heavy gold and onyx ring on his right hand and he swung his leg as if he were just a little bored by the family tableau before him. Next to him, James, with his nut-brown hair, blue eyes and rather classical profile, his long legs stretched out before him, looked far more at ease.
    Although somewhat surprised to learn that he was about to gain a daughter-in-law, Andrew took the news with good cheer and expressed hearty congratulations, but he voiced his doubts as he and Tamar dressed for dinner.
    ‘Is she pregnant, do you think?’ he asked, fastening his tie and frowning at himself in the full-length mirror.
    ‘Oh, Andrew, what a dreadful thing to assume!’ replied Tamar in an admonitory tone as she bent over to look for something under the bed.
    Andrew laughed but didn’t turn around, content to view his wife’s still very shapely bottom reflected in the mirror. ‘Now don’t tell me you haven’t already had a good squiz at the poor girl’smiddle, Tamar. I know how your devious little mind works!’
    Tamar stood up, her face flushed and her hair escaping from its pins. ‘I’m not devious, Andrew. You’re fully aware that these things happen and if it is the case, I’d prefer to know about the arrival of our first grand child sooner rather than later, that’s all. Have you seen my harem pants any where?’
    ‘You’re not wearing them to dinner, dear,’ said Andrew mildly. ‘They’re hideous. Wear one of your lovely dresses.’
    Spotting a minute scrap of patterned material sticking out from under the heavy cherrywood blanket box at the end of the bed, Tamar discovered her cherished trousers crushed underneath. She shook them out and said bemusedly, ‘Now, how did they get under there, I wonder?’
    Andrew said nothing.
    ‘Damn, I’ll have to wear a dress now,’ she said, and burst into tears.
    Andrew whipped around, appalled by her sudden distress and ashamed of himself for having hidden the ugly pants in the first place. He took Tamar in his arms and stroked her hair. ‘It’s the boys going, isn’t it?’ he murmured gently.
    ‘Yes,’ she said into his shirt front. ‘I desperately want to plead with them not to, but they’re men now, Andrew. I can’t stop them and I’ve no right to.’
    ‘Aye, I know,’ he said. ‘I feel the same way but young men have always gone off to war, Tamar. This time won’t be any different.’ He shut his mouth