by Posy Lovell
“I went,” Reg said. “But I wanted to watch you first, find out what you were up to.”
Again, Louisa felt that shiver of fear. How long had he been spying on her without her knowing?
“I followed you to the park.” He gestured with his head toward the gate of the Gardens. “You’re a gardener?”
“Yes.”
“But my farm wasn’t good enough for you?”
“I tried my best with that farm,” she said, annoyed at the implication. “I kept it going when you were out drinking the profits.”
“It’s gone now. I had to sell up.”
Louisa nodded. She wasn’t at all surprised, but she didn’t say that. “I’m sorry.”
Reg was suddenly morose, his eyes filling with tears. “That was my dad’s farm,” he said. “And his dad’s before him.”
“I know.”
“And now I’ve got nothing.”
He looked at Louisa. “It’s your fault.” His ruddy face contorted with anger. “It’s your fault, you bitch.”
He reached for her but Louisa stepped back quickly and he stumbled forward, steadying himself on the wall.
“What do you want me to do about it?” she said, feeling bolder as she heard the noise of her friends’ laughter coming from the pub behind her.
“I need you to come home with me and sort it out. Come back, Louisa. I need you.”
Just like that he was back to melancholy. He had always had violent mood swings when he was drunk and it seemed nothing had changed.
“I need you, Louisa,” he repeated. His reddened eyes were brimming with tears again. “You owe me.”
Louisa heard another burst of laughter from inside the pub. She thought about the good friends she had at Kew and how she’d started a whole new life in London, away from Reg and his fists, and she drew herself up as tall as she could.
“I owe you nothing, Reginald Taylor,” she growled in his face. “It’s you who owes me. You took my best years from me. You made me into a scared, cowering creature. And worst of all, you killed my baby.”
She looked straight into his eyes, feeling her lip tremble as she thought of the child she’d longed for.
“I wanted to be a mother so much and you took that from me, too. But you know what? I’m glad now. Glad I didn’t have a baby with you because no child deserves you as a father. You’re a pathetic, drunken waste of space and you’re not fit to breathe the same air as the men I know in London. Now, get going, before I call for help.”
She folded her arms and stared at her ex-husband. She was shaking all over—she’d never once stood up to him like this. How would he react? If he came for her, she’d run into the pub and get help, she thought as he looked back at her, the shock of being spoken to like that obvious in his face.
“Bitch,” Reg said again. He spat at her feet. Louisa didn’t move. “Bitch.”
Then, to Lou’s enormous relief, he turned round and, without another word, wobbled off down the road toward the river and the bridge.
Breathing heavily, Louisa watched him go. She felt almost euphoric. She’d seen him off. Seen off the man who’d terrorized her for so many years. This was astonishing.
Giddy, she pushed open the pub door again and was immediately surrounded by her Kew friends.
“Where have you been?” Ivy said.
Louisa took her arm. “I’ve been laying some ghosts to rest.”
Ivy raised an eyebrow.
“My husband turned up,” Louisa explained. “He tracked me down. But I told him where to go and . . .” She blinked, still surprised by what had happened. “He went.”
“Oh my goodness, are you all right?”
Louisa nodded. “I really think I am,” she said. “I think I am.”
“Well, come and celebrate.”
Arm in arm the women rejoined the group of gardeners.
It was a lovely evening in the end. Louisa enjoyed every minute, chatting with her colleagues, laughing with Mac, teasing Jim and Dennis about working with so many women. She felt warm and happy and, she thought, as she searched for her bag under the table when it was time to go, she felt independent. She had no one to answer to, no man telling her what to do or when to do it. It was a good feeling.
“Do you want to stay the night at my flat?” she asked Ivy. It was a long trip back to Hackney at this time of the evening.
“Would you mind?” she said. “My mother will be angry if I waltz in at this hour.”
“Not at all. Nice to have some company on the way home.”
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop,” said Jim. He dropped into an extravagant bow. “After you.”
Louisa led the way out of the pub, followed by her friends, and out into the quiet night street. She glanced over the green at St. Anne’s, which was cloaked in darkness.
“I hope Bernie’s all right,” she said. “I want to help him.”
“He’s fine,” Ivy assured her. “I think he quite likes it there.”
She and Jim had their arms wound round each other, and as they paused to look at the church, Jim bent his head and kissed Ivy. Louisa watched them indulgently for a second—they were so sweet in their love for each other—and then wandered toward the bus stop. They’d catch up.
But as she walked along the side of the green, a figure came out from behind one of the trees and lurched toward her.
“Louisa,” it slurred.
It was Reg, of course it was.
“Go away,” she said, carrying on walking past him.
Surprisingly fast for someone as drunk as he was, he made a grab for her and pulled her by the arm. Caught off-balance, she stumbled and fell onto the ground.
Quick as a flash, Reg was on top of her, his sour breath in her face as he tried to kiss her.
“Get off,” she squeaked, wriggling underneath him and twisting her head so he couldn’t press his lips to hers. Looming above her, Reg held her chin in one hand and with an open palm, slapped her right across the face. She felt blood trickle from her nose and just like that, the memories of how he was when they were married flooded her mind and she was frozen in terror, all her earlier bravado abandoning her.
She stopped fighting. If she didn’t move and didn’t make a sound, he’d soon have had enough and she could go home.
Reg was panting now, still holding on to her chin, his meaty fingers digging into her jaw as he fumbled with his belt with the other hand.
“A man just wants what’s legally his,” he was muttering. “Bloody women think they can just do what they like.”
His belt unfastened, he pushed down his trousers and, ignoring Louisa’s gasping sobs, he started trying to pull her skirt up. But it had got caught beneath her when she fell and his weight on top made it tricky for him to loosen it.
“Bloody women,” he said again. He pushed himself away slightly and suddenly he was off her. His sweaty body yanked upward by something Louisa couldn’t see.
“What are you doing?” a voice growled in the darkness. “Get your filthy hands off her.” It was Jim. Thank God, she thought. Thank God.
She sat up and watched Jim haul Reg by the collar, away from her. Ivy stood to the side, looking furious.
Are you all right? she mouthed to Louisa, and Louisa nodded, wiping the taste of Reg’s mouth from her face and dabbing the blood from her nose.
“Get out of here,” Jim was saying to Reg. “Go on, go.”
He shoved the older man, and Reg windmilled round, wobbly on his feet.
“Get out,” Jim said again.
“Sod you.”
Once more, Louisa watched her husband walk away. But this time, he only went a few steps before changing his mind. He launched himself at Jim, getting one clear shot at the young man’s face. Louisa winced as she heard Jim’s nose crunch and Ivy shrieked.
; Jim, though, was young and fit, and he was angry. He took Reg by the shoulders and pushed him off himself.
“Bugger off,” he shouted. Reg went to hit Jim again but Jim swerved his fist and instead landed his own punch on the side of Reg’s face.
Reg went down like a sack of coal. He thumped first onto the tree behind him and then slid, out cold, onto the grass at the edge of the green.
They all stood stock-still, staring at him as he lay, unmoving, on the ground.
“Is he . . .” Louisa gasped. “Is he dead?”
Jim, kind, gentle Jim was staring down at Reg in horror.
“I don’t know.” He was panicking, his breaths coming quicker and quicker. “I never meant to hurt him, I’ve never punched anyone in my life. I just wanted him to go away.”
Ivy ran to her boyfriend. “It’s not your fault,” she said.
“I don’t know if he’s breathing,” Louisa said. “What should we do?”
She bent down to Reg, but even being close to him when he was unconscious made her recoil. She stood up again. Along the street a little way, a group of men had left the pub and were coming in their direction. She didn’t recognize them. Thinking quickly, she made her decision.
“You need to go,” she said. “Jim. You have to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
Louisa, feeling panic rising, gave him a push.
“Go,” she said. “If you’re here, they’ll know it was you who hit him and you’ll get into trouble. Ivy, take him away. Go into the Gardens. It’s dark, no one will see.”
Ivy’s face shone white in the moonlight, but she nodded silently.
“Go on,” Louisa urged. “I’ll deal with this.”
Quietly, Ivy tugged Jim’s hand. Still looking shocked, he obediently followed as she led him to the gate and they melted into the darkness. Louisa waited, wondering how long they would take to find the key in Jim’s pocket and let themselves in, until she heard the soft clang of the gate shutting again. Then, taking a breath, she let out a scream.
“Help!” she called. “Help! My husband’s fallen and hit his head.”
Chapter 16
Ivy clung to Jim in the dark Gardens. She could feel his heart thumping beneath his shirt and sweat trickling down his back.
“It’s fine,” she kept saying. “It’s going to be fine. I’m sure he was breathing.”
But she wasn’t sure. Not really. He’d hit that tree with quite a thump and the way he’d been lying there, so still . . .
She shuddered.
“It’s fine,” she said again.
“What shall we do?” Jim looked young and scared and Ivy’s heart twisted with love and worry for him.
“We’ll stay here overnight,” she said. “It’s warm enough and we can find somewhere soft to cuddle up.”
“And then what?”
“And then in the morning, we’ll go to Louisa’s and find out what’s happening.”
She paused as they heard footsteps running and shouts outside the gates. Someone must have found Reg. Or his body. She shivered again.
“Are you cold?” Jim pulled her closer to him. She wasn’t but she liked being near him, feeling his body on hers.
“What if he’s dead, Ivy? What if I’ve killed him?”
They started walking farther into the Gardens. Ivy wanted to be away from the gate, just in case someone caught a glimpse of them, unlikely as that sounded. She tried not to think about the last time she’d been in the Gardens at night, doing something wrong.
“You’ve not killed him,” she told Jim. “He’s a big bloke and he was drunk. He’s just passed out. And if . . .” She stopped.
“If . . . ?”
“If something’s happened, then we’ll deal with it. Louisa’s so quick-thinking, she’ll have told a story to make it all seem all right. It’s not your fault, Jim.”
She pulled his arm to make him look at her.
“Reg was hurting Louisa. And if you hadn’t come along when you did, he’d have hurt her a lot worse. He’d hit her—did you see her nose bleeding? And he was trying to . . .” She took a ragged breath. “He was trying to force himself on her. It’s not right, Jim, and you stopped him. You’re brave and wonderful and I’m so proud of you.”
She was very close to tears, thinking about what could have happened, and what did happen, and what was going to happen now.
“No one will know it was you. Reg won’t remember. And who would believe him, anyway? Drunken old git like that.”
They’d reached a patch of lawn, under a huge spreading oak tree.
“Here,” Ivy said. “Let’s stay here. Look, there’s a little nook between the roots that’s just the right size for us. And it doesn’t look like it’ll rain, but if it does, we’ll stay dry because of the leaves.”
She sat down on the springy grass and gestured to Jim to follow, but he didn’t.
“We could leave,” he said, pacing up and down in front of Ivy. “We could go to Ireland. I’ve always fancied Ireland.”
“We don’t need to leave. It’s going to be fine.”
“What if I get sent to prison? I don’t want to go to prison.” Jim’s voice was small in the darkness.
“You won’t go to prison, my love. I won’t let it happen.”
“How can you stop it?”
“I’ll hide you,” she said. “I’ll hide you away with Bernie.”
Jim stopped walking. “That’s it.”
“What?” Ivy hadn’t been serious when she’d said she would hide him.
“I’ll enlist.”
“No.”
“It makes sense, Ivy. I’ll sign up tomorrow morning. I could be training by Monday. No one will look for me if I’m in the army.”
“No,” she said again. She stood up and went to Jim. “You’re too young.”
He scoffed. “It’s already July, I’ll be eighteen in November, and I look twenty-one,” he said. He was speaking the truth. His physical job meant his arms were thick and strong, and his body was taut with muscles. “There are kids much younger than me lying about their age and getting away with it. No one is going to question me. I’d be going at the end of the year anyway. This is just a bit early, that’s all.”
Ivy began to cry. It was like all her nightmares were coming true. With every bone in her body she longed for Jim to stay here in Kew with her, safe and sound, away from bombs and gas and guns. But she knew what he was saying made sense. The war showed no signs of being over any time soon and there was no doubt that come November, Jim would be enlisted anyway. At least if he went now, he wouldn’t be in trouble for the business with Reg.
“I don’t want you to go,” she sobbed. “I want you here with me.”
“I know, I know,” he soothed. “But it’s not forever.”
“It’s so dangerous.”
“Look at me, Ivy. I’m a big lad. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I’ve got more chance than some of them against Jerry. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“I’ll miss you so much.”
He stroked her hair. “I know. I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll write to you.”
In despair, Ivy sobbed harder.
“I can’t read,” she wailed. “I can’t read your letters and I can’t write them back.”
Jim lifted her chin and looked at her. “We’ll find a way,” he said. “You can draw me pictures.”
Ivy shook her head, lost for words. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t be without you.”
Jim had looked scared and young before, but now he looked weary and older than his years.
“You’ll have to, Ivy. We have to do this. We’ll get through this, you’ll see.”
He pulled her close to him again.
“We should get some rest. The sun will be up about
four and it’ll wake us. And it’s Saturday tomorrow; there will be visitors at the Gardens, no doubt. Especially if the weather’s good.”
He looked behind them at the little nook in the roots of the trees.
“I’ll put my shirt down for you to sleep on,” he said. He started unfastening his buttons. Only the slight shake in his hands betrayed how frightened he must have felt. Ivy watched, her mind whirling with emotions, and as Jim slipped off his shirt, she stepped forward and put her hand on his chest. It was firm and his skin was soft and warm.
“Jim,” she breathed. He stayed still as she gently ran her fingers over his shoulders, and then he bent his head and kissed her deeply, almost taking her breath away.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too.”
Amazed at her own boldness, she took the shirt from his hand and spread it out on the grass. He watched her, his gaze never moving from hers. Ivy unfastened her dress and shrugged it off and spread that down, too. She was only in her slip, but she didn’t feel at all self-conscious. It just felt right.
Biting her lip, she sat herself down on the clothes and held her hand out to Jim.
“Are you sure?” he said.
“Surer than I’ve ever been about anything in my whole life.”
He sat down next to her and they kissed again. Ivy’s hands roamed across Jim’s broad back and she gasped as he kissed her neck, sending shivers of pleasure through her body.
“This is the best way to say good-bye,” she whispered. “It’s the only way to say good-bye. I couldn’t bear it, if something happened to you and we’d never been close like this.”
“Shh,” Jim said. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
She pulled away from him slightly and looked up at him.
“We don’t know what’s around each corner,” she said. “We have to snatch every chance we get to be happy.”
“You’re right.” Jim rested his forehead against hers. “You’re right.”
Then they stopped talking for a while as they lost themselves in each other.
* * *