Raging Sea, Searing Sky

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘While it’s boiling, why don’t you go upstairs?’ Mrs Cartwright invited. ‘Your room is the front one. It overlooks the promenade. Mrs McGann is waiting for you.’

  So he could spend his furlough staring at the sea on which he would soon be sailing, Lew thought. What else she had said only slowly broke into his consciousness. Mrs McGann! He ran up the stairs, his kitbag like a feather in his hands, opened the door, and gazed at May.

  *

  ‘May,’ he gasped, kicking the door shut, and dropping his kitbag on the floor. Then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her and she was kissing him, and moving her body against his in that memorable way she had. When he had to breathe he held her away from him to look at her. She wore a grey skirt and a blue blouse and black boots and her hair had been taken out of its bun and was instead pinned up in a huge golden pompadour. She was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Because they were alone, in a bedroom. A very nice bedroom, he realised, with a huge fourposter, and a washstand with china basin and ewer and slop bucket, and two comfortable chairs, and a carpet on the floor, and a glowing gas fire which kept the chill away and a window giving a view of the sea which was probably very attractive in the summer.

  But not half so attractive as the view standing in front of him.

  ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ she asked.

  ‘Pleased...’ he took her in his arms again, swept her from the floor, and held her there. ‘I just didn’t believe it was going to happen. I still can’t believe it’s happening.’

  ‘You will,’ she promised, slowly sliding down his front.

  ‘But...what did you tell Mrs Cartwright?’

  ‘That I’m your wife, silly.’

  ‘I’m sure she suspects.’

  ‘I’m sure she knows. But as long as she can tell her neighbours we’re married, she’s happy. She’s the mother of one of the nurses, a friend of mine. She fixed it up. There’s a war on. People don’t get upset by...things, the way they used to.’

  ‘But...how much do I owe her?’

  ‘Oh, I fixed that up, too.’

  ‘Oh, May, I can’t let you do that. I have money. Pounds and pounds of back pay.’

  ‘So you keep it,’ she said. ‘Come in, Mrs Cartwright,’ she called in response to the knock on the door.

  ‘I’ve made a nice cup of tea,’ Mrs Cartwright said.

  ‘Oh, and cream buns,’ May cried. ‘I do adore cream buns.’

  ‘I thought Mr McGann might be peckish after his journey. Tea is at six sharp. Remember now.’

  She closed the door.

  May turned the key. ‘It’s only just four,’ she said. ‘Two hours.’ She leaned against the door, and looked at him.

  He licked his lips.

  May left the door and poured tea. ‘Lewis,’ she said. ‘You have been with a girl before?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Once.’

  ‘Oh, this is going to be fun,’ she said. And she obviously meant it.

  But did that mean she had been with more than one man? As if he cared.

  She took a cream bun, bit into it, took the piece into her mouth, while the cream spread to either side of her lips, then held him in her arms and kissed him, transferring both the piece of bun and a great deal of the cream as she did so. Then she stepped back, still gazing at him, more intently than he could remember before. He stepped forward, and she held up his cup of tea. ‘We have two hours,’ she reminded him, and took another bite of cream bun.

  He swallowed his. ‘I feel as if I’m going to burst,’ he said.

  ‘Then take off your pants,’ she suggested.

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Are you going to pretend I haven’t seen you before?’

  She was so confident, so much in command. But that was how he wanted it, right now. He realised he was still wearing his greatcoat, hung it on the hook behind the door, then sat down and took off his shoes and stockings. May sipped her tea, gazing at him, as he stood up again and took off his blouse. He gazed at her in turn, feeling more exhilarated than ever before in his life as he dropped his pants and drawers. Here was the intimacy he had always wanted to share with a woman. With this woman.

  ‘You haven’t drunk your tea,’ she said.

  It was what she wanted. He went to the table and raised his cup, while she continued to gaze at him.

  ‘Turn round,’ she commanded.

  He obeyed, and she knelt and traced the line of his scar with her finger. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Only when it rains. I guess it’s going to do that for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said seriously, and put both arms round him to bring him against her and kiss the scar, while her hands closed on him. ‘Oh, Lewis,’ she said. ‘You have got to be the most handsome man I have ever seen.’

  He had never suspected that girls thought that way, and turned so violently he hit her in the face. ‘Oh, heck,’ he said.

  But she was holding him again and kissed him. Then suddenly let him go and leaned back. ‘It’d be a shame to waste him,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you going to drink your tea? Sit down.’

  He sank into a chair, and she stood up in turn. ‘I hope you like me as much as I like you,’ she said.

  ‘I adore you,’ he said.

  She made one of her moues, and unbuttoned her blouse. ‘Drink your tea,’ she commanded again.

  He obeyed, watching her slip the garment from her shoulders. Underneath she wore a white muslin petticoat. She unbuckled her belt and allowed her skirt to slip past her thighs, then stepped out of it, holding it from the floor.

  He put down his empty teacup as she lifted the petticoat over her head to reveal another, this time in flannel. He swallowed as this in turn was laid on the chair to expose her drawers and corset. He felt like bursting again as the drawers slid past her thighs. Now he was looking at stockings, gartered just beneath her thighs; the thighs themselves were as yet concealed by her chemise, still pinned against her by the corset.

  ‘Will you help me?’ she asked, and stood immediately in front of him, turning her back on him.

  His hands trembled as he released the ties, and the stiff garment fell away from him. She stepped away from him too, and placed one foot on the chair to roll down her stockings, gradually revealing long, slender, perfectly shaped white legs, one after the other, while only the now released chemise stood between him and everything he had dreamed about for nearly two years.

  May sat down to unlace her boots. She was half turned away from him, but the chemise still rode up, and he was looking at her naked thigh. The boots were laid neatly on the floor, the stockings beside them, and she stood up, the chemise swaying slightly just beneath her pubes. ‘Would you like another cup of tea?’ she asked.

  ‘Another...’ he got up.

  ‘Cup of tea,’ she said, pouring.

  He sat down again, realising that she was acting out some kind of fantasy, which involved driving him nearly out of his mind with desire; well, she could see that by looking at him. His hand was shaking when she gave him his cup, and some of the tea spilled into the saucer. She smiled at him, and stepped away, raised her arms, and unpinned her hair. Slowly it uncoiled and settled on her shoulders, then drifted past them down her back. ‘Do you like my hair?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,’ he said. Adding hastily, ‘except the rest of you.’

  She gave a delightfully deep, throaty laugh. ‘But you haven’t seen the rest of me, yet, Lewis. I was going to show you on board the Lusitania, remember?’

  He put down another empty cup, quite oblivious of the boiling water scorching his throat, as she lifted the chemise over her head, uncovering herself from the bottom up, narrow thighs, pale pubes, the hair as silky as that on her head, flat belly, and the large, high-nippled breasts he had dreamed of for so long. Then the chemise dropped on to the chair, and she stood in front of him. ‘What do you think?’ she asked. ‘Am I worth coming all the way to Lyme for?’


  ‘You would be worth going to hell for,’ he said.

  Another moue. ‘Are you sure it won’t turn out to be that?’ She was quite serious.

  ‘I wouldn’t care.’ He was on his feet, and taking her into his arms. ‘I adore you, May. Adore you, adore you, adore you.’

  Her body moved on his. It had done so before, entrancingly. But never naked. How puerile she made the memory of Wanda seem. The bursting sensation grew. He lifted her from the floor, carried her towards the bed, and fell across it with her. He thought he might have hurt her, but she only smiled at him, and he was inside her in a second, and spent only a few seconds later, while she seemed to gurgle with amused enjoyment; it was a feather mattress and with every thrust they seemed to shrink closer and closer to the floor. He gasped, and she gently pushed him over to relieve herself of his weight, then lay beside him, propped on her elbow. ‘Now it’s my turn,’ she said.

  She was entrancingly knowledgeable. She showed him how to play with her to arouse her, at the same time re-arousing him. He had never, in his wildest dreams, supposed a girl would ever want him to put his hand between her legs. At seventeen and in all the glory of his newly restored health he was ready again in a few minutes, but she refused to let him hurry, wanted to kiss and lick his nipples while making him do the same to her, got on her hands and knees to kiss him, and then sat astride him and took him into her. ‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘Just lie there. But you can play with my titties.’

  He obeyed, because this was something else he had dreamed of for years, and touched and stroked her already hard nipples while she moved her body slowly up and down on him, her golden hair fluttering to and fro, her eyes half closed, her mouth twisting with pleasure. He had never imagined a woman could feel, or behave like this, and his mind filled with the oddest fantasies. Mom...and Father? Mom had been so beautiful...what memories Father must have.

  May began to breathe harder. ‘Don’t come, Lewis,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t come.’ She gasped, and a rash of fine sweat broke out on her shoulders and forehead, and he could contain himself no longer, and seemed to explode. But so did she, falling forward on to him as her body seemed to surge up and down him, and her legs unfolded to lie along his, and her hair clouded on to his face as she found his lips and sucked his tongue into hers. ‘Oh, Lewis,’ she whispered. ‘I think I adore you too.’

  It seemed more like a dream than ever, to sit down to high tea with Mrs Cartwright, and have soup and scones, and fried kippers and tea, and talk about irrelevancies. The most important irrelevancies in the world, when Mrs Cartwright heard that they had both been on the Lusitania. ‘Lewis saved my life,’ May told her. ‘Without him I would have drowned. I’m his forever.’

  ‘I think that’s just wonderful,’ Mrs Cartwright sobbed, while Lewis gazed at May, and she gazed back, and he knew what she was thinking; we have been inside each other, we have owned each other, we have been to heaven and back, together.

  ‘Lewis was at Jutland, too,’ May said, as Mrs Cartwright had stopped sniffing. ‘He was on Queen Mary, and got blown up. He was the only survivor.’

  ‘Oh, good gracious,’ Mrs Cartwright said.

  ‘Then he was on a destroyer, and got blown up again. On the same night. You must have read about it,’ May said.

  ‘Oh, my, yes I did. Oh, Mr McGann, I hadn’t realised it was you.’

  ‘I’m so lucky he’s alive,’ May said.

  *

  Mrs Cartwright was quite happy to eat out of their hands, after that tea, made no comment when for the rest of the week they hardly left their room. They went for a walk every morning before breakfast, to get some fresh air and for the exercise. Besides, it was so freezing on the promenade, even when the wind dropped, that it made even their somewhat chilly bedroom seem warm, and made bed more attractive than ever. Not that the bed needed any enhancing. They spent sixteen hours out of every twenty-four in bed, and only slept for about six. When they slept they were pressed against each other as they sank into the softness of the feather mattress, and when they were awake they pressed against each other in the unending delights of making love to each other. Lewis could not imagine how anyone could exist without the comfort of making love to a woman like May, how Father was existing now, without the glory of holding Mom in his arms. Once upon a time, quite recently, thoughts like that would have made him embarrassed and even ashamed. Now they seemed natural, because now he knew that women, if May represented women, wanted to be thought about like that, just as they wanted to be touched, and explored, and kissed, and hugged, and entered, again and again and again. If she was utterly unlike his previous concept of the feelings of her sex, or of the impressions he had gathered from the conversation of his shipmates in the Navy, many of them married, she was indeed like a dream come true.

  But a dream from which there had to be an awakening. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said on the sixth night, lying against him as usual.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘May, will you marry me. For real?’

  She gazed at him. ‘You can’t marry anybody, at seventeen.’

  ‘I can ask you to marry me.’

  She lay on her back, her shoulders against his. ‘You’ll go back to sea, and forget all about me, Lewis.’

  ‘I didn’t before. I only went to sea in the first place because you got angry with me.’

  ‘Did you?’ She turned to face him again. ‘Oh, you darling. But marriage...Lewis, you don’t know anything about me.’

  ‘I thought I knew everything about you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Lewis...I’ve been with men before.’

  ‘I knew that,’ he said. ‘You told me.’

  ‘I meant, I’ve slept with them.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  ‘And it doesn’t bother you?’

  ‘It makes me love you more.’

  ‘Oh, Lewis...’ she sat up, swung her legs out of the bed, her back to him. ‘Lewis...I’ve had a...well...I was nearly a mother.’

  He stretched out his hand to trace the serrations of her backbone. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Well, I...I went with this boy...in America, and I got pregnant. God, the fuss. I was fifteen.’

  ‘And you were angry with me.’

  Her shoulders rose and fell. ‘Maybe that’s why. God! It was the first time. In a field, during a picnic. We kind of wandered off, and before I knew what was happening he had my drawers off. But I wanted it. I...I guess I’m just wanton. That’s what Father said. When he found out, he beat me with a strap. It was ghastly. But then they took me to a doctor, and he put things into me. That was worse. Anyway, there was a lot of pain, and suddenly I wasn’t pregnant after all. They killed my baby, Lewis.’

  She was weeping. He held her shoulders and brought her back down to him, kissed away the tears.

  ‘After that...they were furious when I went walking with you on the ship. They made me give you the cold shoulder after that. Father threatened to beat me again. And then they drowned.’

  He kissed her some more.

  ‘So you see...I am just wanton. I know I am, Lewis, I...I’ve been with men since. I...’

  ‘Do you like being with me?’ he asked. He wasn’t sure of his true reactions to what she had just told him. He only knew that he didn’t want ever to let her go, because she was so beautiful, and what they had done together this last week was so beautiful. He wanted to go on doing that for the rest of his life. And now he knew all her secrets. What was wrong with her. But there was nothing wrong with her he couldn’t cure.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I have never known anyone like you.’

  ‘Then marry me. Say you will. Please, May.’

  ‘Oh, Lewis. You can’t mean it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Oh, Lewis...’ she was kissing him now, and a moment later he was in her again, and their bodies were melding into one long orgasm.

  ‘Then you will,’ he said, still lying on her.

  ‘Oh, Lewis...there’s so much in
volved. Like Uncle...’

  ‘Is he so terrible?’

  ‘Terrible? I don’t suppose he’s terrible at all. He’s just an impossible stuffed shirt. Auntie May is worse.’ She giggled. ‘Would you believe that I was named after her?’

  ‘What would happen if he found out about this week?’

  ‘He isn’t going to. I spent a week with them, told them I only had a week. They think I’m back at the hospital, and they know it’s not done to telephone the nurses.’

  ‘And you don’t think he’d approve of me as a son-in-law.’

  ‘Well...he doesn’t like Americans. And you being seventeen! We just have to wait, Lewis. When the war’s over...’ she gazed at him. ‘I do love you so.’

  ‘Will we be able to spend another week together, when next I have a furlough?’

  ‘A furlough? Oh, you mean shore leave. Oh, yes,’ she promised. ‘Oh, yes. Listen, you must write to me every week, and tell me what you’re doing, and I’ll write to you as well, and the next time you have leave, I’ll come to you.’

  ‘I’ll probably be up at Scapa Flow,’ he said, suddenly miserable.

  ‘So I’ll come to Scapa Flow. No one and nothing is going to keep us apart now, Lewis. No one and nothing.’

  *

  No one and nothing, he thought, as the train chugged across the south of England to Portsmouth. No one and nothing. The words seemed to fit the rhythm of the rails. They were in love, and they had their whole lives together. As May had said, they could afford to wait a year or two. No one and nothing. Because fate had determined, it seemed from the moment of their first meeting, that they should be together, no matter what happened.

  He was on top of the world. In Portsmouth he found that he had been promoted Able Seaman, and he spent the next six weeks there on a gunnery course. ‘You’ll be a petty officer in a couple of years,’ the instructor told him. ‘The sea’s in your blood.’ Well, he already knew that, but it was magnificent to be even more the cock of the barracks, despite the fact that nearly all the recruits were still older than himself. But none of them had been at Jutland, none of them had a medal, and none of them were already an Able Seaman.

  And none of them had ever held May Gerrard naked in their arms, although that was a secret he kept to himself.