by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
I heard some material tear and thought it must be my dress. Actually it was his silk shirt, as I discovered when I stepped over it later.
But if he didn’t rip my dress it was only because he didn’t need to. He was an expert in removing delicate things without damage, but I was pulling my own clothes off at the same time as his.
I suppose we were naked at about the same moment, and that was like a confirmation that this was really going to happen at last. So then there was no need to rush to bed. There was time to stand there and feel our bodies against each other.
It was so good. I knew his body well from having spent so much time gazing at it. I knew the heaviness in his shoulders, the hint of power kept in reserve, seldom needing to be used. I knew the way his torso narrowed down to lean hips and long, muscular thighs. I could still feel him lying against me, as he’d done the first morning, his desire unmistakeable. I’d wanted him then and I wanted him now.
I brushed my lips across his chest, listening to his heartbeat, hearing it grow a little more urgent as I moved my hands over him. It was the same with me. As his fingers tips roved all over me, exploring, inciting, my pulse grew faster.
He was murmuring soft words. ‘All my life—all my life—’
Did he mean that he’d waited for me all his life? Or that we would have a lifetime together? I couldn’t afford to wonder. Too much grief lay that way. Tonight I was going to be his in every way I could. In my heart I was already his for ever, and I tried to show him in ways he’d remember later.
I said he was always in control, but he was losing it then, and that was wonderful. He’d asked me to be his wife, and this was as good as our wedding night, even though the wedding would never take place.
We walked slowly to the bed, not hurrying because the world and time were ours. He sat on the edge and drew me towards him, between his legs, so that he could rest his head against my breasts. I wrapped my arms about him, feeling strangely protective of this strong man.
I felt the tears come as I realised that he trusted me enough to be vulnerable to me. I knew I mustn’t think of that. Not when I was about to betray his trust and desert him.
He kissed my breasts so gently, so lovingly, that all sense of strain fell away from me. I was nothing now but this man’s lover, with no purpose in life but to receive his love and give it back a thousandfold.
So I arched into him, clasping my hands behind his head and inciting him to love me with his tongue, his lips. And he did, again and again. I took deep breaths, bracing myself for the shattering, beautiful sensations that went through me.
But before long that wasn’t enough. I wanted him to feel the same. So I drew him down on the bed, made love to him with all my heart, and had the happiness of feeling his response.
‘Do you know how much I want you?’ he whispered.
‘Not until you show me,’ I whispered back.
So he did, easing over me and accepting the welcome I offered him. We became one with mutual joy. I could see my own feelings mirrored in his eyes and I smiled, knowing that he was as much mine in that moment as I was his.
And we were still each other’s when he left me, because we lay for a long time holding on, making the moment last. Maybe I only imagined it, but I like to think we fell asleep in the same moment.
I awoke after an hour. It wasn’t yet dawn, so I still had a little longer before life ended. Jack was sleeping on his front, his face turned towards me, his lips moving slightly as he breathed.
I kissed him. He didn’t stir, and I kissed him again, then again, saying goodbye. I tried not to cry, but I was never going to see him again and I couldn’t stop. A tear fell on his face. I dried it quickly and turned over to muffle the rest in the pillow.
Behind me I heard him stir and move closer to me, saying softly, ‘Are you all right?’
I muttered and buried my face deeper in the pillow. I didn’t want him to know I was crying.
I felt him settle down and go to sleep against me, his arm over me. Oh, Jack, Jack!
I took the coward’s way, slipping out in the dawn without waking Jack. He’d moved by then, and I was able to ease my way out of the bed without disturbing him.
After the loving we’d had it was cruel to leave him like that. It had probably been cruel to make love to him at all, but I wasn’t strong enough to do anything else. After Jack, life was going to be a bleak vista of greys, and I would need that night to help me through it.
Luckily he’s a heavy sleeper, and I was able to write my letter, dress and slip out without him knowing. I took a taxi to the railway station and a train to London, heading for Uncle Alec’s house and reaching it just before lunch.
Grandad was there, actually looking out of the window, and the sight of his face when he saw me made me feel for a moment that all the pain was worth it. I wasn’t always going to believe that, but I did at that moment. When the front door was opened he flung his arms around me, and I could actually feel him sobbing with relief.
I did a bit of crying too. It was so good to have him back, and now he was all I had to love.
Let me try to show him to you. Imagine Father Christmas—big white beard, twinkling eyes, the lot. At first sight he comes across as naïve and gullible, which part of him is. But there’s more to those eyes than a twinkle. He knows, as the saying goes, how many beans make five. He also knows how to pretend they’re six.
That’s my grandad. Great-hearted, generous, lovable, shrewd, dodgy, wildly unreliable and slightly potty.
‘Where’ve you been, girl?’ he asked, wiping his eyes. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I said huskily. ‘I told you I was working on a ship. I left it at Southampton this morning and came straight here.’
‘Yeah, I remember you telling me now. Do well out of it, did you?’
I didn’t bother him with the details of how I’d changed ships. He didn’t need to know.
‘Yes, I did pretty well,’ I said cheerfully.
By this time the rest of the family were collecting around us. Most of them had come there today, so that we could have a party to celebrate. Alec, Hetta, more uncles and several of my cousins. Not all, of course, because two were unavoidably detained.
The mood was very jolly. They noticed the suitcases Jack had bought me, and their obvious value caused some comment. When I opened one to take out a dress for the party there were cheers as they viewed the contents.
‘Here, girl, you found yourself a millionaire, or what?’
‘Or what!’ I said, trying to laugh. ‘Definitely what!’
Maria, Hetta’s eldest daughter, held up one of the other dresses and twirled with it.
‘Don’t suppose your “what” has any brothers?’ she asked.
‘No, he’s unique,’ I said.
All three of Hetta’s daughters were into full-time shoplifting now, and doing very well at it. Lisa had tried something more sophisticated—computer hacking and stealing credit card numbers on-line. But she didn’t have a gift for it and made such a mess of things that she had to dump a valuable laptop in a lake to get rid of the evidence. At least, she thought it was valuable. She hadn’t been able to ask the price when she obtained it, but she’d seen one like it in a catalogue.
So she rejoined her sisters in the shops, and was soon back in business. The family were dead proud of them all. Hetta was especially proud of Lisa, who’d tried to broaden her horizons and ‘dream her dreams’.
‘She may have made a mess of it, but you’ve got to hand it to her for trying,’ she said.
‘Are you all right, luv?’ Grandad asked me halfway through the evening.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Only, you’re just staring into space.’
‘I guess it all feels a little weird to hear them talking that way, as though it’s the same as any other career. At any minute I expect to hear that they’re going to have a convention and an awards scheme.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t
win any awards for that last job,’ he said with a sigh.
‘No, and there aren’t going to be any more,’ I told him firmly. ‘You’ve retired.’
It was a good party. Grandad and I stayed the night, but we were both looking forward to leaving next day and getting back to our own home. It was a tiny rented apartment in South London. Nothing grand, but it was cosy, and even now I loved it. We’d been happy there.
The first day at home wasn’t too bad because there was so much to do. Cleaning, buying food, making lots of tea and chatting while we drank it. After the jollity of the night before Grandad was a bit quiet, and once he just stopped what he was doing and flung his arms around me. I comforted him as I would have done a child, because that was what he was now. He was my child and I was going to protect him.
But when it was time to go to bed and I found myself alone there were no more defences against what was happening inside me. I loved Jack, and I’d walked away from him. It was for ever. No going back.
If I should weaken I had only to remember the party yesterday—crooks, con merchants, jailbirds, all milling around swapping jokes as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Even to mention Jack’s name among them could damage him, and I wouldn’t do it.
Suddenly I felt colder than at any time in my life. I got up and turned on the heating. But I was still cold.
After that first salary cheque, Jack had given me another one, so for a while we had enough to manage on. Just in case he was trying to trace me I opened a bank account in another part of London and deposited the cheques there. I half wondered if he would stop them, but that would have been spiteful, and not like Jack.
Sure enough, they cleared easily, and I drew out the money in cash to put it in my normal account. Things were fine for a bit. I couldn’t get a decent job, because leaving Grandad alone for long was too chancy, but I did some part-time work. It didn’t pay well. As the money ran out I began to sell my new clothes.
In the end the only thing I had left to sell was Charlie. I put it off as long as possible, but there was no choice.
He was my last link with Jack, but I didn’t cry. I was beyond that. And besides, I had to keep up a brave face for Grandad.
I thought I’d fooled him, but of course I hadn’t. One day he went out alone, came home, and told me he’d got a job as a waiter.
‘But you know nothing about being a waiter,’ I said, stunned.
‘Yes, I do. My cellmate used to be head waiter at—’ He named a top London hotel. ‘He served royalty. He told me all about it.’
He did well at first. He was a good mimic and picked up enough to get by. I thought perhaps our troubles were almost over.
But they were just beginning.
Chapter Ten
Della’s Story
OF COURSE I did everything wrong, and when I landed in jail I knew that only a miracle would rescue me.
How strange that the miracle should be Grace, making one last attempt to turn Jack against me and giving him the key to finding me.
When I heard that ‘Mr Smith’ had come visiting I thought it was one of my cousins, being cautious. And then I walked in and saw Jack.
I made a mess of it again. I should have been overjoyed, thrown my arms around his neck, cried, Jack, darling, at last!
Instead, I was filled with the most terrible fear and misery. Perhaps I’d forgotten how to feel anything else. Anyway, I fled, and they had to stop him coming after me.
From the corridor outside I could hear him begging them to bring me back. I leaned against the wall, shaking, feeling my heart pound. Even my teeth were chattering.
A warder came back and told me briskly that I was mad.
‘If I had a feller who looked like that you wouldn’t catch me running away,’ she said. ‘Go on with you.’
So I went and sat down and, charming to the end, said, ‘You shouldn’t have come.’
Fear and misery had given way to rage. After I’d tried so hard to protect him he’d swept all my efforts aside and walked into the lions’ den. Had he no sense?
I think I said something like that—something bad-tempered, anyway. He ought to have walked out, but he didn’t. I remembered then how stubborn he was when he’d decided on something.
He looked different—thinner, older—and he’d lost that look of always having a smile about to burst out. He smiled sometimes, but it was forced, and faded quickly. Then his manner became curt and no-nonsense. He even snapped at me. I snapped back, and we were soon squabbling.
I told him about my life in the months since we’d parted, but all the time I was wondering about his life, whether I was responsible for his withered look, as though something were gnawing him from inside.
If I could have done as I wanted I’d have put my arms about him, promised never to go away again. But I couldn’t. A block of ice seemed to be pressing on my chest, trapping the feelings inside. So I went on being grumpy and he went on giving his orders.
He’d fired my lawyer, he was hiring another, he wanted my address. I had to be sensible, leave it to him, just keep quiet and don’t argue. Bully Jack was there with a vengeance.
I did what he wanted, then we rowed some more, and he left.
I didn’t know what to think. At the back of my mind I knew things had taken a turn for the better, but I couldn’t feel it. I didn’t know this new version of Jack, or how to react to him.
My new lawyer was called Thomas Wendell. He came to see me that same afternoon, and the very next day I was back in court, pleading not guilty.
‘But how can I?’ I demanded. ‘After they caught me red-handed.’
‘Miss Martin, my instructions are that you were not caught red-handed, but merely the victim of a misunderstanding which will soon be sorted out.’
‘Your instructions? From Mr Bullen, I suppose? What else did he say?’
‘To get you out of here at all costs. Now, please speak as little as possible, and leave everything to me.’
Inside the court he put in my plea and asked for bail, but the magistrate was reluctant. He spoke of my lack of co-operation and suggested that I was liable to abscond.
In the end bail was set at thirty thousand pounds. An outrageous figure. Without batting an eyelid Mr Wendell agreed.
That told me all I needed to know. But it might have been worse. At least Jack hadn’t actually turned up in court.
‘What do I do now?’ I asked as we left.
‘You see that car over there, with the blacked-out windows? Just get in the back. Goodbye.’
‘Hey, wait a—’
But he was already walking away, leaving me no choice but to go to the car.
Jack was there in the back, his face harsh with tension. He drew me inside, tapped the dividing screen, and an unseen chauffeur started up.
As we moved off Jack threw himself back into the far corner and just sat looking at me. The light was poor, and I couldn’t see his face well, but I think it bore the saddest look I’d ever seen.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘I’m better now. I’ll be all right when I’ve seen Grandad.’
‘I’m taking you to him. One moment.’ His mobile phone had rung and he answered it curtly. ‘Yes? I know, but I can’t help it—you’ll just have to handle the meeting yourself. You can do it, Peter. I trust you.’
When he’d finished I took a deep breath and started on the speech I knew I had to make.
‘I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you when you came to see me. I’m really grateful for—’
‘Shut up!’
His voice seemed to reach me across a vast distance.
‘Don’t thank me. Whatever you do, don’t thank me.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I can believe that,’ he said, almost savagely.
Silence. A cold, bitter silence, between strangers.
‘If I can’t say sorry, what can I say?’
‘Nothing. What is there to say?’
He sounded oddly defeated, and his shoulders sagged. I hated seeing him like that. He was my Jack, king of the world, who could sort out anything. Worst of all was the feeling that the person who’d brought him to this was me.
‘This isn’t the way home,’ I said suddenly, startled.
‘You don’t live there any more. I’m taking you to my place.’
‘But Grandad—’
‘He’s already there. I went to see him at the address you gave me as soon as I left the prison yesterday.’
I made an amazed gesture, which he understood.
‘He was a little surprised, since you’d never mentioned me to him,’ he said. ‘But I told him what was happening, and we packed up and went.’
‘How is he?’
‘I found him fairly depressed. That’s why I took him with me at once. I thought the less time he spent alone brooding the better.
‘You mean he stayed at your place last night?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Jack, what did you tell him?’
‘Just that you worked on my boat. For all he knows you were a waitress. But we didn’t talk much. We just got drunk.’
This was becoming more surreal every moment. I tried to imagine their meeting at our shabby little home, and in the end I gave up.
Nor could I picture Jack getting drunk. Grandad, yes.
The phone rang again. He answered impatiently, said, ‘I’ll be there in an hour,’ and hung up.
We were in the heart of Mayfair now, gliding through residential streets that were quiet and unobtrusively wealthy. We stopped in front of an apartment block and I waited for him to get out. But he seemed frozen, staring at the floor as though lost in an unhappy dream.
‘Why did you do it?’ he said at last.
‘I told you why in my letter. I had to go, and now surely you must know why?’
‘There could have been a way around it if only you’d trusted me. Now—’ He gave a dispirited shrug.
I knew what he was saying. It was too late—now. He was helping me for old times’ sake, but he didn’t want me to think it had anything to do with love.