‘Nothing serious this time, Mrs Mackinder.’
Her fingers still held his, and now she drew him to a seat on the far side of the room. ‘You must tell me all about it,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘About all the battles.’ She sat down, still holding Bert’s hand, and he sank on to the cushion beside her. ‘I have the car outside,’ she whispered. ‘Come with me for a drive.’
‘But Mrs Mackinder...’ he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let the Colonel down again. Besides, the risk...
‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I have told everyone I’m driving into Bath to see the dentist, and that I won’t be back until after lunch. Nobody can possibly know.’ She stared at him. ‘Don’t let me down, Bert.’
He licked his lips. She wanted him. After nearly three years, she still wanted him. And she was the only woman he had ever wanted. His brain seemed to be spinning round and round. But another part of his body was more insistent.
Annaliese smiled at him, and finished her drink. ‘Why, Sergeant-Major,’ she said in a loud voice, ‘I’ve my car outside. Let me drop you off.’
Bert gulped, and drained his beer.
‘You away, Sergeant-Major?’ asked the publican, looking through the hatch.
‘Yes,’ Bert said. ‘Just remembered there’s somewhere I have to go before lunch. And Mrs Mackinder has kindly offered me a lift.’ He pushed his head through the hatch himself. ‘Thanks for the drinks,’ he shouted at his audience. ‘See you tonight.’
He hurried through the door behind Annaliese. ‘This is daft.’
‘All love is daft,’ she said, and got behind the wheel.
To his relief he saw that it wasn’t the Daimler, but a small Austin; the front seats seemed very crowded. Annaliese turned the car and drove out of the village, towards Bath, but as soon as the houses were out of sight she swung down a lane.
‘When did you learn to drive?’ Bert asked, watching her. She made a fascinating sight, with her blouse drawing tight against her shoulders and underclothes, and then ballooning again, and her legs moving beneath the slacks.
‘Ages ago. Driving gives one a sense of freedom.’
‘Whose car is it?’
‘Oh, mine. I asked Lee if I could have a car, and she said yes. Pays to have rich relatives.’ She glanced at him. ‘Can you drive?’
‘Only a tank.’
‘Doesn’t make sense, does it, to drive a tank and not a car?’ She had slowed, and now she turned down an even narrower lane. After a few seconds of bumping in the ruts, yet another turn brought them into the shelter of a high stile, which completely hid them from the road. There was a tree by the stile, which shaded the car, and in front of them the meadow disappeared over the brow of the hill.
‘You’ve been here before,’ Bert accused.
‘Of course.’
‘Who with?’
She glanced at him. ‘By myself. When I don’t have a friend, I’m just as happy by myself. Aren’t you?’
‘Women don’t do that.’
Annaliese gave a low laugh. ‘I bet they do it more than men. There’s no mess.’ She opened her door and got out. ‘I love this place. Here we can be really alone.’
‘Suppose someone comes along?’
‘No one ever does. There’s no reason for anyone to.’
Bert got out too; he was as hard as a rock. But his bladder was full as well: all that beer.
‘I’ll just step behind the stile for a moment,’ he said.
‘Do it here,’ Annaliese suggested.
‘In front of you? Don’t be daft.’
‘Why? You must pee in front of other men, in the army.’
‘Other men. I’ve never peed in front of a woman.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well...it ain’t proper.’
‘Everything is proper, if you both want it,’ Annaliese told him. ‘That’s the secret, both wanting it. I want to see you do it.’
Bert hesitated, then unbuttoned his battledress trousers. He was so hard it was a struggle to get it out, and even harder to control it; he went crimson in the face.
‘Oh, he’s just splendid,’ Annaliese said. ‘Go on, do it.’
Bert obeyed. What a woman. But what a marvellous woman.
‘Now,’ Annaliese said when he had finished. ‘Undress me, Bert.’
He licked his lips, in a mixture of uncertainty and desire. She wanted him, when Fergus was available. There was the incredible thing.
He stepped up to her, and she took him in her arms and kissed him, deeply and slowly. His flies were still unbuttoned and she put her hand down to hold him while she kissed him. He wanted to shout for joy: that was his principal memory of their last time together.
His hands were on her back; when she stepped away they scraped over her shoulders. ‘Now undress me,’ she repeated.
He didn’t really know what to do, but he unfastened the buttons of her blouse, and it fell open, to reveal a white undergarment which seemed to be brassiere and petticoat and knickers all in one. It was made of satin and lace, and through it her body seemed to beckon him.
Annaliese kicked off her sandals and shrugged the blouse from her shoulders. It fell to the ground. ‘Now the pants,’ she said.
These had a waistband, and buttoned up the back. He released the catch, and she turned round so that he could undo the buttons. The pants slid gently down over her hips and gathered about her ankles. He stared at her bottom and legs. She wore no stockings; he was surprised at that.
Annaliese stepped out of the pants, and turned to face him. ‘Now the cami.’
‘I don’t know how to do it,’ Bert confessed.
‘It’s very simple,’ she told him. ‘You just take the straps from my shoulders, and slide the whole thing down.’
Heart pounding, Bert obeyed. This was far better than the last time, because the last time she had been already naked, and simply too much to take in at one go — so he had taken in hardly anything, only the feel of her hand on his penis, and the sight of the milk on his tunic. There would be no milk today. Today he could savour each piece of her, as he uncovered it.
He slid the straps from her shoulders, aware that she was staring at him, but with her eyes only half open. He slid the straps right down to her wrists, and only then looked at her breasts. They were smaller than the last time, because she wasn’t feeding. They were, in fact, small breasts. But they were beautifully shaped, and had hard nipples.
‘Kiss them,’ Annaliese commanded. ‘Suck them. Suck them hard.’
He obeyed. At that moment he would have done anything she told him to. He pressed the breasts together and managed to get both nipples into his mouth at once, had a tremendous urge to bite, but resisted the temptation.
The camiknickers had slipped further, and were waiting round her thighs. He stooped to slide them down and uncover her pubes. Annaliese gave a little shake of the hips and the garment joined the rest on the ground. She stepped out of it, and remained with her legs spread. ‘Kiss me there too,’ she said.
Bert raised his head to look at her. He couldn’t believe she would really want that.
‘Have you never kissed a woman there before?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. And wanted to ask in turn if she had ever been kissed there before. But he didn’t dare.
‘Then do it to me,’ she said. ‘And make me yours.’
He liked the sound of that, buried his face in the silky curls, held her buttocks to bring her harder against him. ‘Oh,’ Annaliese said. ‘Ohhh!’
She tore at his clothes, but she was even more mystified by the intricacies of battledress than he had been by feminine undergarments. He released her to help her, and they rolled on the grass together. She wanted to take him into her mouth as well, and for a few glorious seconds they sucked each other, then she got him right side up and on top of her, but before he climaxed she wanted to change again.
‘This way,’ she panted. ‘This way.’
She knelt, her legs spread. For the se
cond time Bert was astounded. But if it was what she wanted...and it was the best he had ever had, with his groin thumping into her buttocks, while she took both their weights on her knees and elbows, gradually subsiding, so that when he came he was lying on her, and she was writhing and gasping beneath him.
‘I can’t breathe,’ she said at last, and he rolled off her. She lay on her back, twigs and dirt clinging to her headscarf, arms and legs thrown wide; her right leg rested against his. ‘That was so good,’ she said. ‘So good.’
‘I never knew women felt like that,’ Bert confessed.
‘Women feel more than men,’ she said. ‘I had two. A small one when you were eating pussy, and then a big one when you were inside me. Bert...’ She raised herself on her elbow. ‘I’ll have another dentist’s appointment tomorrow.’
‘But what will you tell him about missing today?’
‘Silly! I don’t really have any appointments at all.’ She sat up, and pulled the scarf from her head to shake out her hair.
‘I just told everyone at Broad Acres that I did.’
‘Oh, heck!’ He sat up as well; their shoulders brushed.
‘They’re certain to find out.’
‘Not that lot. Fergus was quite happy to spend the morning talking with his mother. About his crazy dad, I suppose.’
‘Wasn’t that something? The General, a prisoner. He’ll escape. I swear he’ll escape. But Fergus,’ Bert said. ‘I’m going to have to see him.’
‘What about?’
‘Well...us.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘Well, heck, Annaliese...’ it was the first time he had ever used her name. ‘We love each other, and…’
‘And we keep it just the way it is,’ Annaliese told him.
‘But ... don’t you want to marry me?’
‘Marry you? Of course I don’t want to marry you.’
‘But you let me...you wanted me...’
‘I want you to make love to me, whenever we can get together. I love making love with you, Bert. I’ve never had a man like you.’
‘Then why won’t you marry me?’
‘Because it would be absurd. You haven’t any money. Or a nice home...you couldn’t even afford to give me a motor car.’
‘Well, maybe not. But if we love each other...’
‘Love is a matter of good sex,’ she told him. ‘It has nothing to do with life. Life is a matter of getting all you can and holding on to it.’
‘And you have good sex with Colonel Mackinder,’ Bert said sadly.
‘No,’ Annaliese said. ‘I don’t have any sex with Colonel Mackinder. He regards himself as a gentleman. I don’t suppose I’ll have good sex after we’re married, either, if he’s at all like his brother. That’s why I need you.’
‘But you still intend to marry him?’
‘Well, of course. He’s going to inherit Broad Acres when the old people die. Think of that! I’ll be mistress of Broad Acres.’
Bert got up and began to dress. ‘And you expect me to come every time you call? To screw my Colonel’s wife?’
‘Don’t be afraid, Bert. If anything ever did happen, I’d look after you. I promise.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ he said. ‘I’m disgusted.’
‘Bert!’ She was on her knees. ‘You love me.’
‘Yes. I love you. I want you. I want you as my wife. Not as Fergus Mackinder’s wife.’
Annaliese’s face changed, subtly, but nonetheless it had hardened. She also got up, and pulled on her camiknickers. ‘I thought all those years fighting would have made you grow up.’
‘I think they did,’ Bert said. ‘They taught me the meaning of words like comradeship. I don’t suppose you understand that, Annaliese. But the Colonel and I have to lead our men into battle, together. We have to stand shoulder to shoulder when the bullets are flying, and to know that we can trust each other.’
‘I am sure Fergus trusts you, Bert. And you know you can trust him.’
‘But I know that he can’t trust me. Can’t you understand? For God’s sake, he saved my life.’
She saw the shadow flitting across his face, and instantly understood the thought that had provoked it. ‘He saved the life of one of his soldiers, didn’t he, Bert? Because he was Fergus Mackinder, and he had to act the part. He didn’t care if it was you. I bet he didn’t even know it was you.’
‘Does that mean I mustn’t be grateful?’ Bert muttered, picking up his beret and dusting it off.
‘It means that you don’t have to regard him as someone special.’
‘He’s also a friend,’ Bert argued.
‘Now really, Bert, can you honestly call Fergus Mackinder a friend? Have you ever been invited to dinner at Broad Acres? He’s expecting you to call, you know. So that he can show you off to his mother.’ She smiled. ‘And me. “Do you remember that odd fellow Bert Manly-Smith?” he asked. “He’s a sergeant-major now. I’ve told him to come up and have a glass of beer. You’ll enjoy meeting him again. Below stairs, of course”.’
Bert got into the car, and she sat beside him. She started the engine and drove back towards the village. ‘You’ve missed lunch,’ she told him.
‘So have you.’
‘I’ll get something in Bath. That way I can prove I was there.’ She glanced at him. ‘I’d like you to come along, but I think it’d be too risky.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘It would. You can drop me at the corner.’
The car stopped, and he got out. Annaliese leaned out of her window and held his hand. ‘You are the most exciting man I have ever known, Bert. The most exciting man I will ever know.’
He hesitated, then stooped to kiss her mouth.
Her fingers tightened on his, and she smiled at him. ‘Walk out here tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘And wait for me. I’ll be here at eleven. That’ll give us so much more time.’
She released him, engaged gear, and the car drove away. She had not waited for an answer. Because she already knew the answer. He was going to be there.
*
‘It’s been decided that tanks aren’t going to be all that much good, in Sicily,’ General Montgomery told the officers of the Desert Rats. ‘Either on the beaches or on the terrain farther inland. The assault will be carried out by infantry and airborne troops. It is hoped that Italian resistance will not be prolonged; there are already encouraging signs of a crack in their determination to continue the war. But of course there are a considerable number of German troops on the island, and they, one assumes, will fight like the very devil. However, they will be overcome, and then we will proceed to the next logical step in our plan, the invasion of Italy itself. It is for this that you are being kept in hand, and it is for this that you must continue training at your very hardest. I look forward to having you under my command again then.’
The meeting was dismissed, but the General remained to speak privately with several of the officers. Amongst them was naturally Fergus.
‘How was England?’ Montgomery asked.
‘Worth fighting for, sir. I wouldn’t have hurried back if I’d known there was going to be this long delay in getting back into action.’
‘You have work to do, licking all these recruits into shape,’ Montgomery told him. ‘And you’ll have action again soon enough. Sicily is just going to be a sideshow. But not even the Royal Western Dragoon Guards can always be in the front of every action, you know. How is your father?’
‘Ah...very well, I believe, sir.’
Which might not be a lie at all, he reflected.
‘It’s impossible to think of Murdoch Mackinder a POW. I imagine you can write to him. Give him my regards, and tell him we’re on our way to get him out of that camp.’
‘I will do that, sir,’ Fergus agreed. He left the meeting and drove back to the regimental cantonment. They were once again in the Delta, where it had all begun so many months ago. But what a difference. Now indeed the sentries were required only for resisting pilfering; th
ere was no armed and organized enemy anywhere on the continent of Africa. Thus the camp could sprawl in orderly lines, and the men could enjoy themselves, as much as possible...while their officers endeavoured to make them train as hard as ever. In Fergus’s absence, the dragoons had been brought right back up to strength, in both men and vehicles. A good number of the former were very green, but proud to belong to a regiment which had added so many recent laurels to its already famous name, and proud to be taught by the veterans who had chased the Germans right across the desert.
Allack, and the three squadron commanders, Captains Mather, Hartley and Smithie, were waiting for him, together with the padre, Captain Long. The captains were themselves relatively new boys, eager for action, and desperately disappointed that they were not to take part in the invasion of Sicily. Fergus repeated Montgomery’s admonishments as nearly as he could remember them, and sat down for a drink with John Allack. They were the only two remaining out of the officers who had landed at Alexandria in October 1940; there weren’t all that many of the original men left, either — not more than a dozen.
Including Bert Manly-Smith. There was the devil of an odd chap, Fergus thought. During the closing stages of the African campaign, and even more on the voyage home to England, he had thought he was getting through to the boy. But following their arrival in the village, Bert had changed again. He had become withdrawn, sullen even, had refused to come up to the house for that offered drink.
Fergus had been offended by that, had reflected that what could have been a very successful career — there was no reason why Bert shouldn’t wind up as an officer and even attain field rank, he was so young — would certainly be spoilt unless he could learn to keep his moods under control. He had then tried to rationalize. Bert was undoubtedly a somewhat mixed-up youth. Having an officer for a father, and a sergeant-major’s daughter for a mother, must have been totally confusing. Of course, Ralph Manly-Smith had died before either of his sons had been old enough properly to remember him, and Jennie had been, as Fergus remembered her, a remarkably sophisticated and well-bred young woman, even if she had been RSM Yeald’s daughter. He particularly remembered how fond Dad had been of her. But then she too had died, and Bert had been left with only his grandfather and brother. Enough to make anyone introspective. And presumably, Fergus thought, going home made it worse, whereas in the army he could concentrate on being the very good soldier he had turned out to be. Because, what did he have to go home for? Fergus had gathered he didn’t have that much in common with his grandfather. But then, he didn’t seem to have that much in common with his brother. There was not even a girl, apparently. What a lonely existence. Fergus wished he could help in some way. But when it came to women, it seemed he couldn’t help himself.
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