‘I think we can open the door now,’ Morgan said, and gingerly opened it a crack to peer out.
They were all expecting billowing brick dust, and a scene of utter devastation. But to everyone’s surprise Morgan laughed.
‘The nurses’ home is fine. The bomb landed on the waste ground, beside the garden. There’s a huge crater!’
Everyone began giggling with relief. Mariette realized she’d been holding her breath from the moment they first heard the bomb. And there it was, at the bottom of a deep hole, a wisp of smoke rising from it.
‘If it had fallen on the hospital!’ one of the nurses said as they all came out of the shelter to view it.
‘That doesn’t bear thinking about,’ another one added.
‘Not our night to die,’ Morgan whispered in Mariette’s ear. ‘I’m really glad of that as I have some unfinished business.’
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Come with me,’ he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the group of nurses who were all still staring at the deep crater the flying bomb had made.
He led her round the other side of the hospital, through a gap in a fence and into a small wood.
It was getting dark now, and Mariette was always nervous about walking on uneven ground in darkness as she felt she might trip. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘where there are no prying eyes, and hopefully no more doodlebugs.’
Mariette laughed as she realized what he meant.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss went on and on, their bodies pressing into one another’s, arms clinging tightly. Mariette wasn’t sure if Morgan was aroused, but she certainly was. If he chose to throw her down on the ground now and have his way with her, she wouldn’t try to stop him.
‘My darling,’ he whispered as he broke off. ‘I do love you, more than I ever thought I was capable of. And I think my problem seems to have rectified itself.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ she whispered back, rubbing her nose gently against his. ‘So what are we going to do about it?’
‘We’ll plan a weekend away,’ he said, ‘in a hotel. We’ll do the Mr and Mrs Smith thing. Or even Griffiths, if that appeals to you.’
‘It does,’ she said. ‘Does that mean you’ll come back to New Zealand with me?’
‘Well, I couldn’t let you go on your own, could I?’ he laughed. ‘But I’ve got to get back to Netley now, so we’ll plan it all next time I see you.’
‘The next time I see you …’ Mariette murmured the words Morgan had said that evening in the woods, and wondered when on earth that would be.
She hadn’t seen him for weeks. He’d sent her letters, and twice he’d managed to get her on the telephone at the nurses’ home. But Netley was snowed under with casualties from France, and he couldn’t get away.
‘Think of the six weeks on the ship sailing to New Zealand,’ he’d written in one letter. ‘You will be stuck with me morning, noon and night. You’ll be screaming to escape me after two weeks.’
She was really busy too as the Borough was full to capacity, not just with war casualties but with everyday things such as people having their appendix out, giving birth, and having heart attacks too. Almost every one of these patients had some problem they needed help with. Life went on despite the war.
It was now early September, and there was no doubt the Allies were winning. German generals had made an attempt on Hitler’s life, but to everyone’s disappointment it had failed. The Allies had taken Cherbourg, liberated Paris and freed Belgium. Over in Italy, Florence had been captured, and the Poles in Warsaw had risen up too.
Mariette felt very relieved to hear that both her brothers were still in Italy, and unhurt. A letter had come from them, saying how much they were looking forward to a family reunion once the war was over.
But although there was so much to be optimistic about, Hitler had sent a further surprise, even worse than the doodlebug. It was the V2 rocket. It couldn’t be intercepted and flew faster than the speed of sound. The destruction it could cause was enormous, and the damage to public morale was terrible.
With rationing becoming more severe every month, the number of people who were homeless or living under appalling conditions growing ever larger, and the casualty lists ever longer, there wasn’t much to be cheerful about. Sometimes, when Mariette heard of one of these new rockets taking out fifty people or more in a single blast, she really wondered how much more England could take.
But she had a rosy glow within from thinking about Morgan. It really did seem plausible that, next year, they might be home in Russell for Christmas.
35
‘It’s lovely,’ Mariette lied as she surveyed the little cottage Morgan had managed to borrow from someone at Netley for the weekend. ‘Very atmospheric.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t say romantic, or I might have slapped you for telling fibs,’ Morgan said. ‘I’d call it creepy, and I think this may be Jim’s idea of a joke.’
The cottage was only a mile or two outside Southampton. Jim had described it to Morgan as being like something out of a fairy tale, very picturesque, in a little wood. He’d said the bus would drop them at the top of the track that led to it.
He hadn’t said that the fairy tale was one about a witch, that the cottage hadn’t had any repairs in years, or that the track was the best part of a mile long and very muddy from recent rain. Mariette found the long walk in such poor conditions quite difficult, and she looked tired now.
It was the first week in November, and cold and blustery. The wind was banging a gate which was hanging off its hinges, and the trees all around the cottage were creaking ominously.
‘I’m sure it will be lovely inside, once we’ve lit a fire,’ Mariette said. ‘I brought some firelighters with me, just in case there weren’t any here.’
‘I think we’re going to be very glad of all your “just in cases”!’ Morgan smiled as he looked down at the big bag he was carrying for Mariette. She’d already told him it contained clean sheets, a pot of stew – which she’d bribed the cook at the nurses’ home to make for her – candles, various grocery items including milk and bread, and a half-bottle of brandy which she’d won in a tombola.
‘Let’s go in,’ Mariette said, a hint of trepidation in her voice. ‘This is turning into a bit of an adventure, isn’t it?’
Morgan unlocked the door and mentally kicked himself for not booking a hotel room. But Jim had said the cottage in the woods was romantic and Mariette would love it.
They both might have done, if they’d been able to come in the summer. But the way things were at Netley, with new casualties flooding in from France daily, Morgan could never get more than a few hours off.
The door needed a hard push, and as it opened they were greeted by a smell of damp. ‘It just needs airing,’ Mariette said. ‘First job is to get the fire lit.’
It wasn’t as bad inside as it looked from the outside. There was one main room with a big fireplace, a scullery leading off behind it, and a bedroom at the far end. The furniture was plain, the kind a farm worker would have had back at the turn of the century, and the carpet on the bare boards was frayed and old.
‘Jim’s grandmother lived here,’ Morgan said. ‘She left it to him. He said he spent all his school holidays here as a kid.’
‘Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t noticed it could do with a bit of smartening up,’ Mariette said as she emptied the contents of her bag on to the table and rummaged for the firelighters. ‘But look how much wood there is,’ she added, pointing to a stack of logs at the side of the chimney which almost reached the ceiling. ‘At least we won’t be cold.’
Morgan took off his coat, and began laying the fire. He looked round to see Mariette inspecting an oil lamp.
‘That’s lucky, it’s full up,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’ll just trim the wick and light it. We can pretend we’re at home in Russell.’
Morgan had the fire going
in no time as all the wood was very dry. He smiled to see Mariette playing house; she’d not only got the oil lamp lit but had worked out how to prime the water pump in the scullery, how to turn on a cylinder of gas for the gas stove, and the kettle was now on.
He found it immensely comforting to watch her stacking up the food in the scullery, checking the pots and pans and generally making herself at home. He had been very nervous all week about how things would be when they went to bed. Somehow he’d imagined them rushing through the door and into the bedroom immediately. This was much better, it didn’t feel like a challenge.
‘The bed feels a bit damp,’ Mariette called out from the bedroom. ‘It’s a feather mattress, but if we give it a shake and prop it up in front of the fire for a bit it should be fine.’
‘We had a horsehair mattress when I was a kid,’ Morgan said as they hauled the mattress out into the living room and shook it. ‘Hard as nails and usually full of bedbugs. Mind you, the mattresses on the beds at Netley are horsehair too, only no bedbugs. But I’m always so tired when I fall into my bed, I’ve never really noticed how hard it is.’
‘You can get used to anything,’ she said. ‘At my Uncle Noah’s the beds were sprung and beautiful. The first night at Joan’s in the East End I thought I’d never sleep again, with so many lumps and bumps in the mattress, but I did. I used to sleep OK in the shelters too.’
‘Do you think you’ll sleep alright with me?’ he asked.
She reached out and ruffled his hair. ‘Yes, as long as you don’t snore. But I’m a bit scared,’ she blurted out.
‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘My leg, of course. I’m afraid it might put you off.’
Morgan laughed. ‘If my face doesn’t put you off, why should your leg affect me?’
She put one hand either side of his face. ‘I know your face is scarred and kind of shiny, but in my head it’s just the same as it used to be. Your voice is the same, and so are your eyes, even your touch is just as it used to be. But let me tell you something else. I’m so proud of you now, Morgan, because you didn’t wallow and feel sorry for yourself, but became a brilliant nurse.
‘When I first met you, I saw the handsome face, the charm, but there wasn’t much else there. Now there’s a wealth of compassion, strength, tenacity and knowledge. You are a man to love now, Morgan.’
She saw his eyes well up, and she wiped the tears away with her thumbs. ‘Even if we can’t set the world alight tonight, it won’t matter,’ she said softly. ‘I’m here with you, and that’s all I want.’
‘You’ve changed so much too, and all for the better,’ he said with a teary smile. ‘Back then, you struck me as calculating and self-centred, but you were very young and I was knocked out because you were so pretty. You aren’t pretty any more, you are beautiful, inside and out. I love that you care about the soldiers, that your first thoughts these days are for other people. Your missing leg is like a badge of honour because you lost it protecting children. I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone.’
They hugged each other, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, hearts beating as one. No more words were necessary; being together was all that mattered.
It remained that way. They ate the stew, cuddled on the couch and even dropped off to sleep for a short while because the cottage had become so warm. It was dark by four o’clock, and the wind was howling outside. Mariette was nervous about going to the lavatory outside, so Morgan went out there first and lit a candle in a jam jar to make sure there weren’t any spiders.
‘I’ll stay outside the door, if you think the Bogey Man will come and get you,’ he joked as she went in.
‘I’m not that pathetic,’ she shouted back.
But as she came back into the scullery, he leapt out at her from behind the door.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘You beast!’ she exclaimed, but she laughed with him because it reminded her of how she and her brothers used to frighten one another. It was funny that she could feel frightened and safe at the same time.
Later, they put the aired mattress back on the bed and laughed a great deal as they made it up with the clean sheets. But although they kissed many times, Morgan made no attempt to take it any further.
They drank the brandy and played cards, giggling because they were a little tipsy. Then Morgan suddenly stood up, lit a candle, took her hand and said it was time for bed.
‘I had plans for us to lie in front of the fire,’ he said, pulling her to him in a tight hug. ‘But I think we’ll both find it cosier in the bed.’
She knew he meant ‘easier in the dark’, but she liked him using the word ‘cosy’. That felt safe, and not a bit frightening.
He disappeared, perhaps to check the doors were locked and the oil lamp extinguished. Mariette unstrapped her leg, put on her nightdress and quickly got into bed. By the light of the one lone candle the bedroom looked pretty. The faded pink roses on the wallpaper and an embroidered sampler, perhaps done by Jim’s grandmother as a child, evoked a feeling of home for Mariette.
‘How is the bed?’ Morgan asked as he came into the room. He must have been washing as his chest was bare. Mariette saw that it was as bronzed and rippling with muscle as she remembered from the voyage to England.
‘It’s like a snug nest,’ she said. ‘So soft you could drown in it, and very warm. But how come you are so brown? I thought you didn’t get a minute to yourself at Netley?’
‘I joined some of the ground staff and recovering patients, cutting grass and pruning trees, when we had that hot spell in September,’ he said. ‘Getting the wounded out into the sun and looking at nature often does more good than drugs.’
She almost said that, in the dim light of the candle, he looked no different from how he had been when she first met him. And that lying in a warm, comfy bed, she felt no different either. But she didn’t say it, just patted the bed for him to join her.
‘Well, here we are at last,’ he whispered to her, once he’d blown the candle out and they were lying face to face in the bed. ‘So dreams can come true.’
The wind was blowing even harder, the rain rattling down on the roof, but his breath was warm and sweet on her face, and his hand on her hip felt heavy with promise.
‘You’ve dreamed about this?’ she whispered back.
‘All the time, when I was in the hospital having my burns treated. Not exactly real dreams, but I made myself think about you to distract myself from the pain. It worked too. Later, after the first couple of stabs at plastic surgery, I used to have these fantasies in which you came to visit me, laid your hands on my face and all the scarring disappeared. I told the army shrink that, and he said it was a very good sign that I allowed myself to think love could conquer anything. But he asked why I hadn’t contacted you, if that was how I felt.’
‘So what reason did you give him?’
‘That I was too cowardly. I thought you would reject me.’
He was being so honest she thought she should be too. ‘I would like to think I wouldn’t have done that,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m afraid I might have. I was so wrapped up in myself, back then. I only started to feel real sympathy for others when the Blitz began and I saw houses crushed to a pile of rubble and people digging with their bare hands to find a loved one buried in the debris. Then losing Noah, Lisette and Rose on my twenty-first birthday, that was utterly devastating. It was as if I’d had a hard coating around me till then, and with each terrible blow, some of it chipped off. I think the last piece went that night in the rowing boat with the French children and a bullet in my knee. I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to get the children to safety. I didn’t even think about myself.’
‘I love you,’ he said softly, sliding his arm around her and drawing her close to him. ‘Here in this little cottage nothing matters, not the past, the future, nothing but us.’
He was so gentle and hesitant, as if he thought she might stop him if he did anything she didn’t like. But a
s his hands crept under her nightdress to cup her breasts, Mariette was suddenly so aroused that she wanted it fast and furious. But Morgan set the pace, his hands stroking every inch of her with gentle deliberation. He removed her nightdress as if by magic and moved down to suck at her nipples while he pushed his fingers into her, making her moan and writhe with pleasure.
She could feel his penis hard and erect against her leg, yet when she tried to take it in her hand, he pushed her away. So she gave herself up to the exquisite pleasure with abandon, let him probe, stroke and rub her until an orgasm erupted, making her scream out his name.
He pulled her on top of him then, his penis so hard and big that she thought she couldn’t take it all, but she was wrong, and while still feeling the reverberations of her orgasm, she delighted in the feeling of pleasuring him too. She sat up on him, and he lay back, cupping her breasts with his hands, moaning with delight.
As his movement beneath her became faster, he sat up, holding her so tightly to him by her buttocks, moving her in and out while kissing her with such passion that it seemed impossible it could get any better. But it did. Another orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, and at the height of it she was aware of him telling her he loved her, as he came too.
Weak autumnal sunshine woke Mariette as it hit her face, and she opened her eyes to find Morgan watching her.
‘Morning, beautiful,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think you would never wake up.’
She could only smile. They had made love for hours, only falling asleep when the first rays of grey morning light began to lighten the patch of sky they could see through the window.
‘I want to stay here all day, it’s so warm and snug,’ she said.
‘Well, that’s fine by me,’ Morgan laughed. ‘But a cup of tea and some eggy bread would be good. I did see a couple of eggs, didn’t I?’
‘You did. Feel free to make our breakfast then,’ she said. ‘And while you are at it, the fire needs clearing and lighting. You could also heat some water for me to have a wash.’
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