Cousins at War

by Doris Davidson

  ‘What do you mean?’ She looked up at him innocently.

  ‘The girls I take out usually let me kiss them goodnight.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Well, kiss me if you want to.’

  It was anything but encouraging, but he pulled her towards him feeling her tensing at first then melting against him. In a second, however, she drew away. ‘No, Neil, don’t.’

  Dropping his arms, he said, ‘Will you come dancing with me on Tuesday?’ The minute he said it, he wished he hadn’t but luckily she said, ‘Thanks just the same, but I’ve lost too much studying time already. Maybe next time you’re home?’

  Left standing on the doorstep, Neil turned away abruptly. He had got Olive all wrong. If she had ever cared for him in the way she had once written, she didn’t now, which pricked his ego rather badly though he felt no affection for her. The only things that appealed to him were the rounded rear end and the swinging breasts that cried out to be squeezed and fondled. It could have been gratifying to have initiated her in the pleasures of sex – he had a feeling that she’d be a real good lay – but she was taboo.

  On his way up the tenement stairs, Neil was struck by an appealing idea. His mother hadn’t objected to him going to the pictures with Olive – she hadn’t been too happy, but she hadn’t objected – so she surely wouldn’t say anything if he asked his other cousin out – it was worth a try. Queenie, of course, was a different kettle of fish from Olive, and he’d have to go easy. Knowing his own weakness, he wouldn’t even kiss her . . . one kiss from that sweet mouth and he’d be lost, throwing caution to the winds. The only reason he’d stopped with Olive was fear that she might wind her tentacles round him again, otherwise he wouldn’t have thought twice about forcing her, but Queenie was too young and innocent to muck around with. He respected her as much as he loved her.

  Late the next evening, Joe gave a groan. ‘Oh, damn! I’m near sure I forgot to switch off the slicer. Well, I’ll not sleep if I don’t go and check.’

  Gracie rose too, ‘I’ll come with you. I need a breath of fresh air, I haven’t been over the door the whole day.’

  When they went out, Neil turned with a smile to Queenie. ‘Would you like to come dancing with me tomorrow night?’ He had thought about it all day, but hadn’t liked ask in front of his mother and this opportunity was too good to miss.

  ‘Oh yes, thanks, Neil!’

  He was pleased by her eager acceptance until it occurred to him that Olive might not be happy about it. She would be jealous more than likely and it was unwise to give her any cause to be angry. When his parents came back, he told them what he had done, half hoping that his mother would forbid Queenie to go, but she just shot a troubled glance at Joe who shrugged as if to say, ‘Don’t involve me.’

  The girls went to bed first, Neil following them about ten minutes later, and Gracie said, ‘I’d have felt better about it if he’d asked Patsy to go with them. I just hope he’s not attracted to Queenie.’

  Joe shook his head, ‘He’s needing company, that’s all, and it’ll do the lassie good to go out with a laddie again.’

  ‘But what if she thinks he’s serious about her? It’s not a good idea, Joe, she’s his cousin too.’

  ‘Ach, you. You’ve got some right funny notions. Queenie’s a sensible lassie, she’ll know he’s just being friendly.’

  ‘Olive’s not going to be pleased about this.’ Gracie felt angry at her son for stirring up a hornet’s nest. ‘Mind you, I don’t like him taking Olive out either, not after the way she used to carry on over him, and it’s not as if he cares tuppence for her. There’s going to be trouble there.’

  Joe yawned, ‘Never! They’re all just youngsters, for God’s sake. I wish you’d stop worrying about things that’ll never happen. Give Neil credit for having something between his lugs. He just wants company and you should be pleased he’s not picking up some whore off the streets.’

  ‘Joe!’

  Neil felt quite protective towards Queenie. She was so young and so inexperienced that he didn’t dare to give her a clue as to how he felt, but as well as having a figure that most girls would envy, she was so beautiful it took his breath away. Her silky fair-gold hair curled round her neck, her startlingly bright blue eyes made his heart turn over every time she looked up at him and he longed to run his fingers over her velvety cheeks. He was certain that all the other men were wishing they were in his shoes.

  Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on her and when she looked up at him, questioningly, he nuzzled his chin against her brow and murmured, ‘You’ve turned into a real beauty, do you know that? I wish . . .’ Common sense made him stop.

  ‘What d’you wish, Neil?’

  ‘Oh, I just wish the war was over, and I could be at home all the time.’ It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind but he couldn’t go too fast.

  ‘I was supposed to be going home after the war,’ she said, softly, ‘but now . . .’ Her eyes filled with moisture.

  He cursed his insensitivity. ‘I’m glad you won’t be going away. I mean . . . I’m sorry you’ve nobody left in South Norwood to go home to, but if you were there I’d never see you.’

  Their positions were reversed. He was so confused that she felt protective towards him with the emotions of a mature woman. She wanted to pull his head down, to tell him with a kiss that she too was glad that she would be here for him when he came home, but it was so disloyal to the memory of her parents that she felt ashamed. ‘Can we please change the subject, Neil?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything like that. What do you think of this band?’ At the final, resounding chord, he swung her round several times before leading her off the floor. ‘I love dancing. I went to all the hops with Alf when we were in Wiltshire.’

  ‘Did Alf still go to the dances with you after he started seeing Olive?’

  ‘I don’t think Alf was ever really serious about her,’ he said, cautiously. ‘I think that was all in her mind.’

  ‘Hetty says she still hasn’t got over him.’

  ‘I know. That’s why I took her out.’

  This was a surprise to Queenie as Gracie had kept silent about it and she was thankful that she hadn’t told Neil how she felt about him. She was just another cousin with whom he had to do his duty, that was all. Stifling her hurt, she put on a brave show of enjoyment for the rest of the evening.

  They walked home to King Street almost in silence but as they entered the communal lobby, Queenie said, ‘Is anything wrong, Neil? You’ve hardly spoken since we left the Palais.’

  Halting, he put his hands lightly on her shoulders. ‘I say too much sometimes Queenie, and do too much.’

  ‘I won’t be angry, whatever you say or do.’

  In the soft moonlight filtering through the transom window above the street door, her eyes were luminous and pleading, melting his resolve not to put a step wrong. ‘You’d hate me if I did what I want to do.’ But his lips could not resist hers and his hands slid down meeting in the small of her back to draw her against him, until he was forced to break away. Holding her hand resolutely, he dragged her upstairs.

  Patsy had been in bed for some time, but she was waiting to hear how the evening had gone and Queenie happily obliged while she was undressing. ‘It was perfect. I’ve never gone dancing before but Neil showed me how to do the steps. The slow foxtrot and the quickstep were more difficult than the waltz, but the Palais Glide was easy.’ Stepping out of her knickers, she pulled on the trousers of her pyjamas. ‘I’d a marvellous time and Neil’s ever such a good dancer.’

  Patsy sighed, ‘I wouldn’t have minded going with you but he didn’t ask me and, anyway, three’s a crowd.’

  Fastening the buttons of her jacket, Queenie flopped into the double bed. ‘D’you think he’ll ask me again? He said he went out with Olive . . .’

  ‘I didn’t know that, but I can tell you she’s going to be sick with jealousy about you.’

  The vivacity vanished from Queenie’s face. ‘S
he did tell me once to keep away from him, but I thought she . . . she went out with Alf . . . does Neil like her, too?’

  ‘Like her? He hates the sight of her.’

  A ray of hope appeared in Queenie’s face ‘If he doesn’t like her, maybe he won’t take her out again. I think he does like me, and I know I like him. If he . . . wanted me to be his girlfriend, I wouldn’t refuse.’

  Two days later, Neil bumped into Olive on Union Street and knocked her off her feet. He did his best not to show his displeasure when she stood up . . . an offended Olive was far worse than a normal Olive. ‘I’m glad I met you,’ she said, ‘I was wanting to talk to you.’

  The tone of her voice warned him that she was about to say something unpleasant but he smiled, ‘Fire ahead then.’

  ‘Does your offer still hold?’

  ‘What offer?’

  ‘You asked me out again and I refused, but I’ve changed my mind. Aren’t we girls awful?’

  It was more than awful, Neil reflected, it was disastrous, but what could he say? ‘Well, I go back tomorrow so there’s only tonight left.’

  ‘Can we go dancing? At Miss Oliver’s, we were taught all the dance steps, tap, ballet and ballroom, so I wouldn’t be a disgrace to you.’

  Now he understood. She must have found out that he’d gone to the Palais with Queenie. His mother had likely told Hetty this morning on the phone. ‘OK, if that’s what you want.’

  He arranged to meet her at half past seven, and went home seething with anger which he couldn’t vent on anyone. It was his own fault. He should never have suggested another date.

  His ill humour lifted as soon as they went into the dance hall. Even Olive was better than no partner.

  It was their third dance when she said coyly, ‘Is Queenie a better dancer than I am?’

  He might have known that she couldn’t let it pass without some comment, but he wouldn’t let her know that Queenie had been an absolute beginner. ‘Much the same.’ But it hadn’t been the same, he thought. He hadn’t minded when Queenie’s small, firm breasts pressed against him but he was repelled by Olive’s large bosom now, though he had been aroused by it before. Her hair was coarser than Queenie’s, her eyes were a lighter blue and not so soft; yet the admiring glances she was getting from other men proved that she was attractive. She wasn’t his cup of tea, that’s what it was.

  Afterwards, he walked her home, thankful that there was no communal lobby at Rubislaw Den where he might make a fool of himself but she turned into the open gateway to one of the large houses in Queen’s Road – the gate and the railings had been taken as part of the war effort – and dragged him into the shadows under the mature trees in the garden. ‘I’d like you to kiss me goodnight properly this time,’ she whispered holding her face up to him.

  Her lips parted as his met them – a sign that Alf had done some groundwork – and the devil suddenly broke loose in him. Viciously forcing her mouth farther open with his tongue, he was dismayed by a familiar ache in his loins which increased when she pressed her body against him but when he tried to pull away, she clung to him like a limpet, ‘Don’t stop now, Neil. I know you want me.’

  His body would not let him deny it, and he thrust her from him in anger – at himself as much as at her – whirling out of her hold. In a brooding silence, he accompanied her to her door then strode off without looking back.

  Before he reached home, Neil had decided not to issue any further invitations to either of his cousins. With Queenie, he could easily get carried away and tell her he loved her and if Olive went on the way she’d done tonight, he might do something he would regret for the rest of his life. He’d be better with the floozies he used to pick up, who were only out for one thing and expected no commitments. He could take his pick of them and devil take the hindmost.

  He was laughing when he went home and his father looked up smiling, ‘Olive must have been in good form.’

  Neil exploded. ‘Bloody good form. She’s a praying mantis, d’you know that?’

  Joe’s smile broadened, ‘You’d better watch her, though. If you start anything there, you’ll be a goner.’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me that.’

  In the girls’ bedroom, Queenie said, ‘Neil was late in.’

  ‘He took Olive home,’ Patsy didn’t want to discuss Neil’s association with Olive; she knew how Queenie felt about him and the poor girl had been hurt enough already.

  Queenie, however, persisted with her questions, ‘You said he didn’t like her.’

  ‘He couldn’t let her go home in the blackout on her own.’

  ‘I feel sorry for her. It must be awful going out with a boy who doesn’t like you.’

  Patsy snorted, ‘Don’t feel sorry for Olive, she has a hide like a blinking rhinoceros. Remember last New Year, how she said she’d be my sister-in-law one day, even though Raymond and I both told her Neil didn’t like her? I don’t think she was ever really in love with Alf and it wouldn’t surprise me if she wore Neil down one of these days.’ The distress in the other girl’s eyes made her qualify this, ‘No, I’m sure she won’t, for he knows her. He can see through her.’ Patsy had meant to console Queenie with this last remark, but she could see that her cousin had not been taken in.

  Olive was annoyed at herself. She should have stuck to her original plan and played hard to get but she’d been jealous of Queenie. She had wanted to show Neil that she was still in love with him, to kindle a love in him, but she had only put him off. She would be more careful in future but it would be best to leave Miss Ogilvie under no misapprehension as to his intentions. Queenie might think she stood a chance with him and she was pretty enough to be a serious rival. Neil belonged to her, Olive, and no chit of a Londoner was going to take him from her.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘I’m bloody freezing,’ Alf Melville pulled his greatcoat up round his ears. ‘No bugger could survive out here in this.’

  Neil shifted his hip round a fraction, ‘And a groundsheet’s not much to have between your arse and the ground.’

  ‘Two weeks of this and I’ll be black and blue all over and frostbitten into the bargain,’ Alf sighed. ‘Why didn’t they wait till summer before they did this? They might have known what it would be like in February.’

  The friends were taking part in a training scheme on the Yorkshire Moors and not relishing it. They had been told to work their way round behind the opposing side’s main party in twos or threes, and that they’d have to sleep where and when they could. Alf and Neil had found a ramshackle barn on the first night which afforded them at least some shelter from the weather, and the hay-strewn floor had not been too uncomfortable apart from the awful smell that rose from it. They had shared this dubious accommodation, and their rock-hard biscuits, with the barn’s sitting tenants, a colony of rats. For the next few nights, they had huddled on the lee-side of a tree or a bush, anything which would give a little protection from the biting north winds, but their present position was barren of anything except stones. They had been too tired to go any farther and had flopped down on the open ground near a crossroads.

  Both young men had drifted into a light doze when a great bang, somewhere to their left, jerked them wide awake. ‘What the hell . . . ?’ Alf’s voice quivered with apprehension.

  ‘It sounded like a bomb,’ Neil muttered.

  ‘It couldn’t have been a bomb, there hasn’t been a plane.’

  Fearfully, they sat up, all hope of sleep gone now, and in the next minute they heard a faint crack as if a twig had been snapped underfoot. ‘Somebody’s creeping up on us,’ Alf whispered. ‘What are we supposed to do if it’s one of the other side?’

  ‘We don’t let them surprise us,’ Neil hissed, but a torch was shone on them before they could stand up.

  ‘You there,’ a voice boomed, ‘your leg’s been blown off.’

  ‘Nobody’s been near us,’ Alf protested.

  ‘Not you – him! The blues let off a thunderflash, and that stands
for a shell, and I’m an umpire, and I say his leg’s been blown off.’

  A label, to that effect, was attached to Neil’s coat. ‘What happens now?’ he asked in bemusement.

  ‘Wait there and an ambulance’ll come to pick you up.’ The umpire went to hunt for more, unsuspecting, maimed soldiers.

  Alf took out a tin of cigarettes saying, as he handed one to Neil, ‘You’ll be out of this caper, you jammy sod.’

  Neil brightened, ‘Thank the Lord for that.’

  He stood up when they heard the ambulance, but one of the stretcher-bearers shouted scathingly, ‘Lie down, you stupid bastard. You’re not walking wounded if your leg’s off.’

  Neil lay down and waited to be lifted on the stretcher. ‘I feel a right twerp,’ he told Alf, as yards of bandaging was wrapped round the ‘bleeding stump’.

  ‘Where are you taking him?’ Alf asked.

  ‘To the school. All casualties have to stay there till the exercise is finished. Meals there, beds there.’

  Alf gave a low, hopeful groan, ‘You’d better take me, as well. I think I’ve got a bit of shrapnel in my arm.’

  The ambulance driver turned to him impatiently, ‘You’ll be getting a boot up the backside if you don’t shut up.’

  ‘No more hard tack, no more bully beef,’ Neil chanted, as he was carried to the ambulance.

  Alf retaliated by giving a reversed V-sign which Neil did not see in the darkness, then stood up to search for another companion with whom to share the remainder of the night.

  There was a great deal of hilarity in the ambulance as it bumped its way to the local school – one of the ‘casualties’ lifting his head to say, ‘We’re on to a cushy number here’ – and even more when it arrived and they were shuttled in one by one, still on stretchers. But they soon settled down on the comfortable camp beds that had been provided for them, pulled up the army blankets and slept the sleep of the just.