To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

‘Oh!’ She drew in her breath sharply. Colour rose to her cheeks again, and she was aware of her heart pounding.

  ‘You are annoyed that I admit to loving you? If so you must tell me now, and I will walk away for ever.’ He spoke hesitantly. She had never expected to hear such hope or uncertainty in his self-assured voice.

  ‘No,’ she said. Then more forcibly, ‘No, I am not annoyed. I am glad!’

  ‘Good!’ He smiled at her. ‘If only you knew how much I want to kiss you. But not here, in this public place.’

  While they had been talking they had been walking, not heeding where their feet led them. Mercy was a little surprised to find that they were strolling along the beach. How or when they had left the gardens she did not know. It was idyllic, with the sea rushing up the rose-pink sand in little waves. Idyllic, but very public. She wanted to feel his arms about her and to have his lips on hers with an urgency that made her blush; yet, at the same time something held her back.

  Gunther observed her carefully.

  ‘I think that perhaps you are relieved we are not completely alone,’ he said. ‘And I cannot make love to you.’

  ‘I’m not!’ she protested in confusion. ‘Well, perhaps a little… Oh, I don’t know!’

  ‘It is good that you are reluctant. I have noticed so many society ladies who throw themselves into love affairs for no better reason than it is fashionable or that they are bored. I am glad you are not like them.’

  ‘No, I am not,’ she said, suddenly really sure of her motives for the first time. ‘I am not a society lady, though I admit that I was bored. Falling in love was the last thing I intended. I didn’t mean to do it, it just happened, and I am still bewildered. You must forgive me if at times I don’t make sense.’

  ‘I would forgive you anything,’ he said softly, ‘if only you agree to see me as often as possible. It will not be easy. You know how little free time I get, and you, too, have your family obligations, but we will take what few moments we can and spend them together. Do you promise?’

  Mercy nodded. ‘I promise,’ she said.

  It was only when she returned to the Villa Dorata that she was tormented by guilt. She was still married to Peter, what business had she loving another man? But, troubled as she was, she knew she could not keep away from Gunther.

  As she expected their meetings were erratic. A brief phone call or an enigmatic scribbled message among the day’s case notes were usually the only warning she had. When they were together they talked and laughed and argued. His vigour and zeal fascinated her. When she was with him she felt alive, her mind buzzing with ideas.

  It was unrealistic to expect a man as vibrant with energy as Gunther to be content with chaste walks on the pier or along Abbey Sands. Now, whenever possible, their stolen meetings involved driving into the country, far away from Torquay, where they could be alone. Mercy was well aware of the mounting passion in their relationship. She was aware of it in Gunther, and she felt it herself, a growing urge to make love to him fully that was becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Yet resist it she did, to his bewilderment.

  ‘You say you love me. That is so, is it not?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes, you know it is.’

  ‘Then why will you not let me love you properly? You must know how desperate I am for you. Is it that you find that side of loving distasteful?’

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Far from it.’

  ‘Just what I suspected. I could not imagine you being frigid. You were made for love, my darling, I have known it from the beginning.’

  They had driven to one of their favourite spots, the thick trees of the Exeter Forest surrounding them, while below, in the distance there was the blue of Lyme Bay. Alone and secluded, it would have been all too easy to be overwhelmed by emotion, especially when Gunther was kissing her with such fervour. She felt her body begin to melt towards his, her own longing begin to take control. Then she forced herself to move away slightly. Gunther sighed and sat up.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What are you afraid of?’

  ‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth,’ she answered, close to tears. ‘I want you, you know that… but somehow I can’t…’

  Suddenly he smiled down at her, stroking her cheek with one finger. ‘I think I know the problem. I have fallen in love with a very moral lady. The world is full of wives who think nothing of being unfaithful to their husbands, yet I have to love one who has a conscience.’

  ‘It’s totally illogical, I know,’ she admitted, ‘when I have already confessed to loving you. But I don’t know what to do about it, do you?’

  Unexpectedly he began to laugh.

  ‘What can I do except curb my passion and wait?’ he grinned. He planted a hearty kiss on her brow. ‘There! Does that not show commendable restraint?’

  They rose and began packing the picnic things into the car.

  ‘Gunther,’ said Mercy contritely, as he held open the door for her. ‘I am sorry.’

  He gave a wry smile and, taking her hand in his, held it for a moment against his cheek.

  ‘So am I,’ he said. ‘But I realize that it is easy for me; I am free, while you have so many difficulties to overcome. Don’t worry, I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes. I would sooner that than have you come to me with doubts and misgivings in your heart. When we make love it must be because it is what both of us want more than anything else in the world.’

  Mercy was touched and a little surprised. Knowing his directness and his impatience she had not expected him to be so understanding. For a fleeting moment she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be with Gunther always, free from all other restraints and responsibilities. It was a heady vision, but completely impossible.

  ‘My misgivings have nothing to do with you – they are all to do with my marriage. You must believe that!’ she declared in an urgent need to reassure him.

  ‘I do,’ he replied. ‘Otherwise how could I go on being so incredibly patient?’ He took his watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘And now I must get you back home before your husband starts complaining.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if I’m late, Peter is away on a sailing trip. Even if he had been home I don’t suppose he would have noticed whether I was late or not. He’s too involved with yachting and the Regatta and… and things of that sort,’ she amended. She had been going to say ‘other women’ but latent pride and loyalty to Peter prevented her. He had resumed his association with Tilly Hewson, and in spite of all else the knowledge still stung her.

  Gunther concentrated upon negotiating the narrow forest track for a while.

  ‘So your lives are quite separate, yours and your husband’s?’ he said eventually.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you think he would mind? I mean, would he be difficult about us?’

  Mercy thought carefully. Peter should not mind. He had no right to be difficult, not after his behaviour, yet she was uncertain. Being in this situation was new to her, she was not sure of the rules. Once she would have confidently predicted Peter’s reaction to anything, but not now. The severity of his retaliation when he learned that she was working at Ivywood had shaken her. It was possible that he could be equally severe again.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I think he might.’

  Gunther stretched out and covered her hand with his.

  ‘Now it is my turn to be sorry,’ he said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For bringing you so many problems. Consider how simple and uncomplicated your life would have been if you had never met me.’

  ‘Don’t say such a thing!’ she cried. ‘Don’t even think it! Without you my life would be empty and meaningless and— What’s so funny?’ she demanded, for he was chuckling openly.

  ‘Because you are saying exactly what I hoped you would say. I should not have spoiled it by laughing, I should have let you go on and on and… Oh, you look so delightful I shall have to kiss you. I can’t help myself.’

/>   Eagerly she held up her face in an automatic response, wanting to feel his mouth on hers once again. His lips were warm and sweet, and gave promise of so much that could be hers if only…

  A sudden lurch of the car brought them both back to reality, as, still laughing, Gunther struggled to bring the car back under control.

  ‘Now I must concentrate upon my driving,’ he declared primly, ‘otherwise I will not return you home in one piece, never mind on time, and that would not be a good thing at all.’

  * * *

  The problem of how she could reconcile loving Gunther whilst still being married to Peter caused Mercy much anguish. Her marriage was over. She could not help feeling sad that something which had begun with such happiness and optimism should end so abysmally. She feared she had contributed to its failure. She should never have married Peter, but it was too late now. There seemed no solution – separation or divorce were too horrendous to contemplate. She could think of no way out. All she could do was to carry on as normally as possible.

  Mercy had not seen Charlotte for some weeks. It was at a bazaar that she encountered her again. As soon as she entered the crypt of Torre Abbey, where the bazaar was to be held, she saw a tall, unmistakably elegant figure moving among the stalls organizing everything with an unhesitating authority.

  ‘Hello, Charlotte,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to be of assistance, if I may.’

  Charlotte turned, and raised an aristocratic eyebrow.

  ‘Why, it’s Mercy Lisburne isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Don’t play games! You recognized me immediately,’ Mercy replied, suppressing a sudden urge to grin. Charlotte at her most haughty could be faintly ridiculous.

  ‘I wonder you managed to find time to come,’ said Charlotte, clearly put off her stroke by Mercy’s refusal to be quashed. ‘I thought you were constantly busy at Ivywood these days.’

  ‘Then it is high time you renewed your sources of information. I no longer work at the clinic. In fact, I haven’t been there in weeks,’ said Mercy.

  ‘Oh, is that so?’ Charlotte’s frosty manner thawed a fraction. She was not prepared to forgive Mercy for ousting her, though. ‘I don’t think there is anything for you to do, unless you want to be in charge of the ladies’ cloakroom,’ she said.

  ‘No thank you,’ said Mercy politely but firmly.

  Charlotte glared at her irritably, but for once a shortage of helpers was jeopardizing her formidable reputation for organizing events. She decided she could cut Mercy down to size on some other occasion. ‘You can do the white elephant stall,’ she said grudgingly.

  With a barely concealed smile Mercy went to her post.

  Lilian Manning came hurrying by, carrying a tray of cakes. ‘Mercy!’ she exclaimed with genuine pleasure. ‘How lovely to see you again. Look! I’ve hardly got a scar!’ She extended her hand, flexing her fingers for Mercy to examine.

  ‘Watch out,’ warned Mercy. ‘Charlotte will never forgive you if you drop those cakes.’

  ‘Whoops! You’re right,’ giggled Lilian, adjusting the tray, which had slipped to a precarious angle. ‘We’ll meet and have a nice gossip later.’

  She hurried off across the room, and as Mercy’s eyes followed her she saw Zena Pritchard busily setting out crocheted mats and embroidered table-runners on the handiwork stall. Charles Wentworth was helping her, as elegant and attentive as ever.

  How do they manage it? Mercy wondered. She’s married, and they’ve been having an affair for years, yet no one seems to object, least of all Zena’s husband! What were the rules they played by? On the surface did everything have to seem normal and respectable? It did not matter what one did so long as one was discreet. But, after all, discretion was the watchword. She and Gunther had only to be discreet, then her husband could have no objection to their liaison. Why should he? It was not as though he had any feeling left for her. She greeted the incoming surge of customers with considerable optimism. At last she could see some shape to the future.

  Mercy happened to be on her way out next day when Peter arrived home. He leapt from the taxi and bounded up the steps.

  ‘I’ve just heard the most marvellous piece of news,’ he said, after he had greeted her.

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes. I stopped off at the Yacht Club on my way home to see if there were any messages left for me. You’ll never guess what! The Shamrock III is coming here for her sea trials in preparation for her America’s Cup challenge! Oh, we’re going to see some magnificent yachting this summer! Good old Tommy Lipton, he’s going to give us all a treat!’

  Mercy had a sudden wistful memory of a Regatta when the best and most beautiful yachts in the country had lain at anchor off Torquay, and of a youthful Joey being mad with excitement to see them. It seemed a long time ago. Sir Thomas Lipton had been in town then, along with one of his other splendid yachts. Had that been Shamrock I or Shamrock II? She could not remember. All she could recall was how magical and unreal the beings had seemed, who lived their lives aboard those sleek glittering craft. How disillusioned she was now. It made her feel sad. ‘Sir Thomas is coming too?’ she asked.

  ‘Indeed he is, which is why I’m in a bit of a hurry.

  There’s been an extraordinary committee meeting called at the club for this afternoon to organize a proper welcome for him. I’ll have to be quick if I’m to make it.’

  Her brief mood of nostalgia evaporated abruptly, along with her vague feeling of guilt at leaving the house the moment her husband was coming home. Clearly he could not get away fast enough to attend his wretched meeting!

  ‘If you will excuse me, I must go now,’ she said.

  ‘Go? You are on your way out, aren’t you? Yes, go by all means!’

  She stepped into the waiting car without a backward glance.

  Her rendezvous with Gunther was brief and unexpected. Ten minutes earlier a hasty telephone call had summoned her.

  ‘Only for a few minutes,’ he had pleaded. ‘There’s something I must discuss with you. Say you’ll meet me at the Rock Walk!’

  Her curiosity had been roused, along with her need to see him and be near him again. Now she had Jenkins drop her by the Pavilion, and she walked the rest. As she slowly climbed the steeply sloping terraces of the Walk she was glad of that blazing sunshine, though it made her climb somewhat uncomfortable. At least the sunlight and the heat drove away any ghosts of that long-ago Regatta that might still lurk among the palms and the ilex bushes.

  When she was halfway up she encountered Gunther coming down, from the direction of Ivywood.

  ‘Why, Mrs Lisburne, what an unexpected pleasure,’ he said, in tones of well-modulated surprise.

  ‘Doctor von Herwath, how nice to see you,’ she replied.

  There was no one close enough to overhear their little, for which she was grateful. Would anyone have been taken in by their exchange of pleasantries? She doubted it.

  ‘What do you wish to discuss with me so urgently?’ she asked, in a quieter, more intimate voice.

  ‘The fact that you look adorable and I love you.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Was that so urgent?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Yes, to me.’ He smiled at her. ‘Though I confess I do have something else I want to say. I have to go to a medical conference in Edinburgh at the end of June. Come with me!’

  The suddenness of his suggestion took her breath away.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly…’

  ‘Why not? It will only be for a few days. Don’t you want to be with me?’

  ‘How can you ask that? You know I do! But you know the difficulties!’

  ‘Difficulties are there to be overcome, and I am sure we could manage. We would be discreet, naturally. We would not even travel together. I could go up on the Saturday and you could follow the day after. I won’t be totally occupied with lectures, and I am sure you could find something to keep yourself entertained for a few hours. I hear the shops in Edinburgh are excellent.’

 
‘I dare say they are. It’s still impossible.’

  ‘Come!’ he insisted. ‘I’ve been patient for so long, and now we have our chance. You must come! You must!’

  A pulse of excitement was beginning to throb inside her, growing to a tide of recklessness. Why shouldn’t she snatch a little happiness? And anyway, they would be extremely discreet.

  ‘If you put it like that I can hardly refuse, can I?’ she said breathlessly.

  He gave a great sigh of relief.

  ‘Now I am happy,’ he said, his voice not quite steady. ‘We will be together. It is hard to believe.’

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ She was finding it difficult to credit what she had done.

  ‘You won’t change your mind?’ Gunther spoke with anxiety.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she assured him. ‘I can’t imagine anything more wonderful than spending those days alone with you.’

  He gave another sigh, this time of regret.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘Time is the matter,’ he replied. ‘I must return to the clinic. I’ve got to leave you, and I cannot even kiss you goodbye.’

  ‘Save it,’ Mercy said. ‘Save all your kisses and all your soft words and all your love, so that I can enjoy them properly when I’m with you in Edinburgh.’

  ‘Edinburgh is beginning to sound remarkably like heaven,’ Gunther said smiling.

  They stood facing one another, knowing they had to part, but each reluctant to make the first move. Then from the path below came the sound of voices and the crunch of feet on gravel. People were coming, shattering their brief idyll. Coolly, and formally they took their leave of one another and set off in opposite directions.

  Mercy’s emotions were in a ferment as she considered what she had promised, but she did not regret her decision. The more she thought about it the more she was glad she had agreed to go to Edinburgh with Gunther. Glad, and incredibly happy! As she grew closer to the Villa Dorata she feared her happiness must show on her face. But although Peter was at home when she returned he did not seem to notice anything amiss.

  ‘Did your meeting go well?’ she asked politely.