‘It will be dangerous, of course,’ she’d explained. ‘The kind of risk which makes what you’ve done so far look like a Sunday School picnic.’
‘Can I ask what sort of operation it would be?’
‘Not yet, sweetie. You just carry on being a good boy. You’ll be told when the time is right.’
They’d enjoyed several hours of pleasure in her bed after he’d locked up, drunk some rather good wine and now he felt drowsy and sated. Even so, her words made his heart pound every time he thought about what she might have in store for him next.
Could he take it? Could he deal with yet more danger?
Although he felt a chilling fear deep inside, Hugh knew that he thrived on excitement, that whatever the challenge, he would accept it. He was gaining a reputation for being tough and reliable and rather hoped that one day he might be mentioned in dispatches, or awarded a medal for his services.
Therefore he felt more than prepared to do whatever Iris asked of him, was almost burning up with curiosity to learn what it might be.
Overwhelmed suddenly by tiredness he lightly kissed Sara’s cheek, desperate for sleep. Burning the candle at both ends, not to mention the physical gymnastics between himself and Iris, was beginning to take its toll. More sleep was essential.
Seeing how tired he was, Sara felt a stir of guilty compassion that she’d ever suspected he was doing anything but what he claimed: his duty.
She couldn’t claim that her marriage was perfect but Sara believed that she’d been reasonably content, hopeful that once the war was over, things would improve between them. Hugh was her husband, after all, and she did miss working with him, lazy and inconsiderate though he might be, and wanted to do so again.
What had possessed her to feel that awful burst of jealousy over Iris, she really couldn’t imagine. Surely nothing but an over-vivid imagination, or her own sense of guilt.
Had she reacted so badly to Hugh’s close proximity to the bar maid, which was no doubt entirely innocent, simply because she needed an excuse to dally with an American officer, one whom she really should try to avoid.
Every day when she drove around, doing her collections, there he would be, driving along in his jeep. He only had to catch at glimpse of her and he would flash his lights, encourage her to stop so they could have a chat, or pass the time of day for a moment. Worse, Sara was perfectly capable of flagging him down too, if only to remark upon the weather, or how busy she was, anything to spend a little time together. Not that either of them admitted as much, but the need was there, unspoken between them.
And if she didn’t see him, she found herself looking out for him, a small ache of disappointment nestling between her breast bone.
Often they would both attend the same meeting to discuss some fund raising issue that they were involved with. On these occasions, Sara would sternly remind herself that she was unmoved by his presence, that it was strictly business if, afterwards, they slipped along to the Odd Spot for a quick cup of tea together.
Charles Denham was simply a friend, nothing more.
Hugh was her darling husband whom she’d been badly neglecting of late, so what right did she have to complain of his neglect of her? Perhaps if they could get their sex life back on track, Sara thought, she would stop having fantasies about what it would feel like if Charlie kissed her.
Sarah snuggled closer, swallowing her pride, these strange aches of longing. ‘Is that why you don’t want me quite so much these days? Because you’re too exhausted from these secret missions you’re involved with? I thought we might try again, some time soon. Now, if you like.’
Hugh almost laughed out loud. What would she say if he told her the very opposite was the case: that he was getting more than enough sex, thank you very much. That it acted like a drug to dull his senses but that he certainly couldn’t find the right sort of buzz with her. Nor did he have either the energy or the inclination to even attempt to make love to her, certainly not tonight. He felt drained, replete.
He patted Sara fondly, as if she were a child, lightly caressing the silver pale curls. ‘Go to sleep darling. I’m rather tired tonight, and don’t worry your pretty little head over what doesn’t concern you. We can’t expect things to be normal right now but it will be worth all the sacrifice once the war is won.’
‘Of course it will, and I’m so grateful that you no longer mind my getting involved in the war effort.’
Hugh was happily indulging in his favourite Iris fantasy where she was standing on the deck of his boat stark naked and he was licking the salt from her wet skin. ‘No, of course I don’t mind. Not in the least.’ His wife’s little efforts with jumble sales and children’s parties seemed very small fry indeed, by comparison. He really didn’t care what she did so long as she didn’t attempt to interfere with him. He was having far too good a time.
Chapter Seventeen
Bette couldn’t believe that Chad was gone. Only a few weeks ago they’d made love for the first time, and the last occasion was the most wonderful of all but had now turned out to have been a poignant farewell. Chad wrote every day of course, at least at first, and Bette would eagerly rip open the envelope to read his loving words. ‘If only we could be married, then you could ship out to the states and stay safely with my mom.’
The idea appealed and took root. Hadn’t she always wanted to escape from the close confines of Fowey? It would be far more exciting to wait for him in his lovely home than in this boring old town, knowing she was a GI bride. She’d even filled in all the necessary forms, which she’d personally collected from a frosty-faced girl who’d looked at her as if she were dirt.
‘Snatched the first GI who stepped off the boat, did you?’
Bette could have socked her one but had managed to remain icily polite and bite her tongue. The important thing was to get the right papers signed, not engage in a slanging match with a toffee-nosed girl who thought she could treat all potential GI brides as loose women on the make.
He sent her a photo of himself which she kissed every night before she went to sleep. It wasn’t the same though. You couldn’t cuddle up with a piece of paper. Bette felt cold and lonely inside and then nearly a week went by when she didn’t hear from him at all.
A letter did come eventually, apologising for his silence, explaining how he’d been away at sea on a training exercise and couldn’t write; that he wanted her to know he still loved her. It happened again and another week slipped by, then another after that with not a word from him.
Doubt began to creep in. Could she believe in his love, Bette wondered? Was his story that he wasn’t allowed to write genuine, or was he simply making excuses? What if she got Stateside, as he called it, and he never joined her there, if he’d gone off the idea of marriage altogether. Perhaps he couldn’t be bothered go through all these official channels and had found someone else to amuse him instead.
Oh, she really mustn’t think such dreadful thoughts. He loved her, didn’t he said so in every letter? She must simply be patient.
But Bette didn’t have a patient soul. Even if Chad did stay true and came back for her eventually, that could take months, and what was she supposed to do in the meantime? Sit at home alone and twiddle her thumbs? Weep into her pillow?
Neither of these held much appeal so when Barney turned up at the cottage one evening, bunch of daffodils in hand and asked her out, Bette knew she should refuse but his expression was so endearing, so humble and contrite as he shuffled his feet on her doorstep, that she was soon having second thoughts. She glanced up and down the street, to make sure they were not overheard.
‘If I agree to go out with you, there must be no repeat of what happened last time. That was a mistake. I want to make that perfectly clear.’
‘Sure, no problem. Our emotions got the better of us. We were overcome by the heat of moment. You have my word, sugar, that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. okay?’
Still Bette hesitated, perhaps because of the way he
was smiling so wickedly at her. ‘Behave yourself. I’m absolutely serious.’ She was hissing at him under her breath, trying to sound cross, yet Bette knew that she couldn’t put all the blame onto him. She hadn’t been exactly unwilling in succumbing to his charms, more’s the pity. ‘The perfect gentleman, right?’
‘Got it.’
Barney behaved with absolute propriety, and did his utmost to cheer her up. After that first evening, in which Bette thought that he’d redeemed himself somewhat, he called regularly and was always anxious to take her wishes into account. ‘Where do you want to go tonight, sugar? To the dancing, the flicks, or maybe a walk by moonlight?’
She didn’t care so long as she got out of the house, if only to escape her mother’s nagging. Chad’s letters were now bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t get leave at all, though he didn’t say why, or even where he was stationed as this wasn’t allowed by the censor, but he did say that he appreciated the fact that his best buddy was looking after her and treating her with proper respect.
He certainly was. Too much respect, almost. Barney would take her to the pictures, or to the dances at the Armoury and if he held her a little closer than perhaps he should, or told her how drop-dead gorgeous she looked, Bette didn’t protest. It was a great boost to her flagging confidence to have a man find her attractive again, to give her that sideways glance which seemed to say, ‘I know you fancy me, why not admit it?’ Yet he made no move to take advantage, still behaving like the perfect gent she herself had insisted upon.
Deep down, Bette began to find this just a trifle disappointing. What was wrong with her that he didn’t ever try anything on? She’d never had any difficulty getting boys interested in the past, so why didn’t he try to kiss her again, or at least hold her hand?
Barney was a handsome guy and she felt very slightly piqued that he should lose interest in her quite so quickly. It wasn’t as if she wanted an affair or anything of that sort, dear me no. Not for a moment would she let Chad down, but where was the harm in a little mild flirtation? After all, Chad wasn’t here and Barney was. All right, they’d gone a bit too far last time but she’d keep better control in future. They were both young and needed to have fun and live a little. Where was the wrong in that?
And at night when she lay in her bed, the pictures in her mind were confused. One minute it would be Chad kissing her, the next Barney, and she couldn’t any longer tell the difference. Oh, why couldn’t Chad get leave? If it was true what Barney said, that he was only in Devon, why couldn’t he pop over and see her? It was only a few miles down the road, for goodness sake,
Sadie took great pleasure in pointing out Chad’s failures and, as his letters grew ever more erratic, preening herself at having been right. ‘Didn’t I say he’d up and leave you?’
‘He hasn’t chosen to go, he’s simply been transferred. He’ll come back one day. He does still love me.’
‘Huh, if you believe that, you’ll believe anything, girl. He’s been gone weeks, so why doesn’t he come to see you?’
Why indeed? If only she knew. ‘He’s on special training. Away at sea. I don’t know. Perhaps all leave has been cancelled.’
‘More likely he’s got himself another woman tucked away somewhere, who he’s now spinning his yarns to. You wouldn’t know that either, would you?’
‘Don’t say such dreadful things. You’re determined to see only the worst in him, which isn’t fair. You don’t know Chad. You wouldn’t even let him in the house.’
But she let Barney in. He would frequently arrive early, bringing Sadie flowers or chocolates. He would patiently listen to her moans and groans about the inadequacy of the doctor at diagnosing her aches and pains, at her husband’s uselessness, or how hard she worked at the salon. And when she constantly pointed out the failures of his erstwhile friend, Barney never contradicted her, or defended Chad in any way. He would nod sympathetically and tell Sadie how he understood her feelings.
‘It’s true, he’s an individual sort of guy, is Chad. Not to everyone’s taste. Bit dull, ya know? Yet unpredictable. No one can be sure what he really thinks, or what he might do next. I hate to say this, him being my best buddy an’ all, but he’s got quite a temper on him, like the time he got into that fracas on the quay. Blew up over absolutely nothing.’
‘Just what I said,’ Sadie agreed. ‘Then there were all those accidents. The question is, were they genuine or was he trying to get out of a difficult situation?’
Barney shrugged and looked sorrowful. ‘Didn’t surprise me none that the major decided to transfer him some place else. He’d become a real liability. Always was that way, ever since he was a boy in school.’ It pleased him to see how Sadie swallowed everything he told her, but then his facility for lying had always intrigued him. He did it because he could, because no one ever challenged him. And it was satisfying to see how Bette grew increasingly confused and desperate for his attention. But then, he had long resented the fact that Chad had found himself the best looking girl around. Not the done thing at all.
Bette closed her ears to all of this as she frantically ran around desperately trying to get ready, but at the back of her mind lurked the traitorous thought that perhaps what her mother said might be right. Was Chad unreliable? Had he really manufactured those accidents so he could get out of a difficult and dangerous operation? It was all rather coincidental, and just a little suspicious. Wherever he’d been sent, she knew what US marines were like. He might well find himself another girl, as her mam was always saying, and look what an idiot she’d look then.
‘Stop gossiping you two. I’m ready now, so let’s go.’
‘Hey, look at you, all shining and perty. You sure do look swell, sugar. But then you always do. Chad doesn’t know what he’s missing. He’s a fool that guy.’
‘Why do you say such awful things about him? It’s not fair when he isn’t here to defend himself. He can’t help being transferred.’
‘I’m sorry, sugar. I didn’t mean to upset you none.’
‘I’m sure he only speaks as he finds,’ said Sadie, a grim smile of satisfaction on her plump face. ‘Mark my words, you’ve heard the last of that one.’
Time passed and still Chad didn’t get leave, and then finally his letters stopped altogether, and Sadie’s words began to take on an awful reality. It looked as if Chad had indeed let her down. She was heartbroken. If it hadn’t been for Barney’s unfailing support, Bette didn’t know how she would have coped. Night after night she cried herself to sleep. Why had he abandoned her? Why couldn’t he send her a postcard at least?
Sara would hug her and soothe her, trying to convince Bette that some dreadful fate had probably befallen the letters, rather than him.
‘Such as what?’
‘They might have been censored, or lost on a train somewhere. Things go astray all the time in wartime. Or Chad may be at sea on another exercise. How can we know, but surely no news is good news.’
Bette clung on to the hope that her sister was right. Sara meant well, unlike Sadie, but the words offered little in the way of genuine comfort. Perhaps the answer was that he simply didn’t love her after all.
Perhaps Sadie was right and he’d only been using her. He’d got what he wanted, made love to her, taken her virginity, then gone on his way looking for the next chick, as they all did.
What a confused, silly young fool she’d been, bowled over not simply by one glamorous yank, but two. They just had different ways of taking advantage of her weakness and naivety, that’s all. At least Barney hadn’t spun her along with promises of marriage. He was completely upfront that all he wanted was a good time. It salved her conscience, as well as her pride, to stir disappointment into anger, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
Yet why should she sit about at home with a broken heart? There were other pebbles on the beach, as the saying went. If Chad wasn’t interested in her, then maybe she didn’t really love him. Maybe he wasn’t really the man for her either, not at all the
man she wanted to marry but merely a passing fancy.
In her heart Bette knew that if he were here beside her now, holding her close, she would be perfectly certain that she did still love him, but as the days and weeks slipped by with still no word, loneliness and doubt welled up inside her and her dates out with Barney were all that kept her sane.
‘Where is he? Have you heard from him?’ she would constantly ask, only to see Barney sorrowfully shake his head.
If only she could be certain. One word, that was all she needed, one word to end this dreadful torment. She felt bereft, abandoned, unsure of herself, and of Chad, and at the back of her mind was quite another worry altogether.
Chapter Eighteen
Nora Snell just happened to mention at one of their regular fund-raising meetings that Scobey had seen Hugh’s boat heading out to sea and he was quite sure that Iris Logan had been on board. ‘That can’t be right, can it dear?’
Sara was at a loss to know what to say.
Nora had no such problems. ‘Why would that flighty little barmaid be in Mr Marracks’s boat? Don’t make no sense, I told Scobey. Your squint must be getting worse than ever and you’m seeing things that aren’t there. But he would have it that it was her. Saw her plain as day, sitting in the bow in the moonlight.’
Sara made some excuse or other and could hardly wait for the meeting to be over so she could run to Hugh and ask him to put her fears to rest. She tried to make light of it, relating what Nora had said as if it were all very amusing, giving a soft little chuckle and waiting for him to laugh with her and agree that Scobey had indeed been mistaken.
Instead, Hugh coldly retorted, ‘It seems you are determined to pursue this stupid suspicion of yours and presumably listen to every bit of tittle-tattle and gossip which comes your way in order to prove your point. Really Sara, I had thought you above all of that sort of nonsense. I did hope that you might actually believe what I’ve told you, if only because I’m your husband and I love you. It’s desperately sad to realise that you don’t trust me at all.’
For All Our Tomorrows Page 14