by Lilian Harry
He looked at her, trying to see her expression, but she kept her face turned away and his alarm grew. ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. Listen, May, can’t we go somewhere by ourselves – now? Or do you have to go home? I suppose they’ll be expecting you.’
She hesitated for a moment or two, then shrugged slightly. ‘Well, I suppose ’tis best to get it over. I never did like dragging things out, specially bad news. I’ll tell Mother we’re going for a bit of a walk down to the village – there’s some shopping I need to do anyway. I don’t suppose it’ll take long, whatever it is we got to say to each other.’
He looked at her, bemused, but said no more as they walked the rest of the way to the cottage. What bad news did she mean? He could think of only one thing and his heart sank. She’s been thinking it over while I was away, he thought, and she wants to finish it. Oh, May …
They came to the gate where he had met her on the bright, frosty Christmas night, and May hurried inside. He heard the voices of her mother and grandfather and then she came out again, looking flushed. They set off down the footpath that led through the steep fields to the village.
‘So what is it?’ she asked presently. ‘You might as well come straight out with it, Ben. No use beating around the bush.’
‘Not here. Not until we can be private.’ They came to a little cluster of trees and Ben took her in his arms.
‘This is what I wanted to say,’ he said, and kissed her firmly. ‘And this. And this.’ The third kiss took longer than both of the others put together, and when he ended it at last, they were both breathless.
‘Ben,’ she began, but he interrupted her.
‘You can’t say you don’t love me, May! I know you do – I can feel it. You couldn’t kiss me like that if you didn’t love me.’
She stared at him. ‘I never said any such thing. What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, May,’ he said hopelessly. ‘I’m saying this all wrong, I know. I’ve been going over and over it in my mind, trying to make up the right words, and now I can’t remember a single one. I’ll just have to come right out and say it. May—’
‘No,’ she said, putting her fingers against his lips. ‘I’ll say it for you. You want us to stop, don’t you? It doesn’t matter whether we love each other or not, you’ve been home, and whatever happened there made you realise you’ve made a mistake. Well, I could have told you that all along. I tried, a few times. Us have had a lovely time, but that’s all there is to it. It’s all right, Ben. I understand. I’m not going to make a fuss about it.’
His brows drew together. He searched her eyes, then put up his hand to remove her fingers from his mouth. Holding them against his chest, he said, ‘You’re not making any sense, May. That’s not what I was going to say at all. I don’t want us to stop – ever. I want you to marry me.’
There was a silence. Then May said, in a whisper, ‘Marry you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you know? You must have realised.’
‘I didn’t know what to think,’ she admitted. ‘I knew what I felt about you, but I wasn’t sure … And then, when you went home and came back sort of different, I thought you’d realised it just wouldn’t do. I thought you were getting around to telling me.’
‘No,’ he said, and released her fingers so that he could stroke her cheeks and wipe away the tears that had begun to wet them. ‘No, that’s not what I want to tell you at all. But … there is something, all the same.’
‘What?’ Her voice was touched with apprehension. ‘What is it? Is it – is it Jeanie?’
‘Jeanie?’ He looked at her in surprise. ‘What do you mean? Why should it be Jeanie?’
‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I mean, you’ve told me about her, how she lives with your mum and dad, and she’s got this little girl, and you’re her godfather. I just thought, I wondered – well, I wondered if you were fond of her, as well as – you know …’ She floundered to a stop. ‘I’m not sure what I do mean, now,’ she finished hopelessly.
‘I am,’ he said, and gathered her close against him. ‘You were afraid we had an understanding, weren’t you? Well, you weren’t the only one. My mother thought that too.’
‘Your mother?’
‘Yes. That’s why I need to talk to you, May. You see, I went back home for two reasons this weekend. One was because Dad asked me to, because he thought it would help Ma to see me. She’s in an awful state still, May. She can’t seem to get over Peter at all, and he thinks she might be heading for a really bad breakdown. And when I – well, that brings me to the other reason.’ He glanced around. ‘Let’s sit down for a minute, shall we? The ground’s quite dry.’
They settled themselves on the grass. Ben clasped May’s hand in his and went on, ‘What I wanted to do was get their permission to get married.’
‘Their permission?’
‘Yes. You know I’m not twenty-one yet. My birthday’s in June.’
‘But that’s only a few weeks away!’
‘A few weeks these days can be a lifetime,’ he said quietly.
May bit her lip. ‘You’re not getting premonitions or anything, are you, Ben? You’re not scared something’s going to happen to you?’
‘No, nothing like that. I just want to be married to you – now. As soon as possible. I love you, May, and I want you to be my wife, and I don’t want to wait.’ He sighed and looked across the valley towards the cottages climbing up the far side.
‘But you hadn’t even asked me!’
‘I was going to ask you when I came home.’ He gave her a quick, crooked grin. ‘I was going to do it all properly – down on one knee, all that sort of thing. Flowers from the shop at the Leg O’ Mutton. Even a bottle of champagne, if I could get hold of one. But – well, my parents wouldn’t do it. They wouldn’t agree to sign the paper.’ His shoulders slumped and he stared down at their clasped hands. When he looked up, she was dismayed to see tears in his eyes. ‘They wouldn’t even agree to think about it.’
‘Oh, Ben.’ For a moment, she felt only sympathy for his own misery. Then she remembered that this affected her too, and said, ‘But even if they had – well, you didn’t know for sure that I’d say yes, did you?’
His brows came together. ‘No, not for sure. But you would, wouldn’t you, May? You love me as much as I love you, I know you do. Why wouldn’t you say yes?’
‘Well, there’s a lot to think about, isn’t there? I mean, we’re different. You’re a vicar’s son, you’ve been to a posh school, you talk posh, and I’m just an ordinary girl with a Devon accent. I haven’t had the education you’ve had.’
‘What’s that got to do with it? I’m not going to test you on your maths or Ancient Greek.’
‘No, but that’s just it. I don’t even know what Ancient Greek is – and all I know about maths is how to add up and divide and say my tables. All right, I know we’d never even mention things like that, but it’s all the other things too – the things you take for granted and I don’t know anything about. To tell the truth, I don’t think my parents would be all that keen, either.’
‘I thought they liked me!’
‘They do. They like you very much. But they wouldn’t want me marrying you, I’m sure. They’d think I was getting above myself.’
‘That’s just stupid!’ he burst out, and May stopped abruptly, her cheeks colouring. He bit his lip and tightened his grasp on her hand. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have said that. Look, I think a lot of your parents, and your grandad too. They’re the salt of the earth. And they’re not stupid, not at all. Look at all the things your mother knows, the things she can do – cooking and sewing and making bread – they’re far more use than being able to do trigonometry or algebra or parse Latin sentences. And the books your father reads. He’s read far more than I have. He can talk about all sorts of things.’
‘They’d still think I was getting above myself,’ she repeated.
He didn’t answer for a moment or two, then h
e said, ‘But they’d come round, wouldn’t they? They’d come to see that it’s what we want, and they’d want you to be happy. I’m sure they’d agree in the end.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, sounding unconvinced.
‘And you wouldn’t need their permission,’ he pointed out. ‘You’re old enough to do what you want.’
‘And that’s another thing,’ she said. ‘To start with, I wouldn’t go against them – we’d have to wait until they were happy about it. And apart from that, they wouldn’t like me being too old for you.’
‘Well,’ he said, trying to lighten the situation, ‘we can’t really do anything about that, can we.’
May ignored him. ‘And they’d think you were too young anyway. They’ve already said as much.’
He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘You mean you’ve talked it over already?’
‘Not in so many words,’ she said, blushing. ‘They’ve talked to me, though. They don’t want us getting too serious.’
‘It’s a bit too late for that,’ he said, and looked into her eyes. ‘We are serious, aren’t we, May? Both of us.’
‘Yes,’ she said, meeting his gaze. ‘We are.’
He drew her close against him. ‘May, darling, what are we going to do?’
‘Can’t we just wait until your birthday?’ she asked. ‘It’s only a few more weeks and your mother and father might come round by then. Your mother might feel better – people do get over things, in time – and mine would see that we’re serious too. Things could be different by then.’
‘Too different,’ he said gloomily. ‘Oh, I don’t mean I think anything’s going to happen to me, but – well, you know what it’s like. Men going out and never coming back. I’ve been lucky so far, but … I just want us to be married, that’s all. And that’s the other part of it, the part I haven’t told you yet. You see, my father’s afraid that if we do wait, and get married in June when I don’t need their permission any more, it could push my mother into a complete breakdown. She’s so upset about it, and she can’t be reasoned out of it because it’s not really reasonable. He thinks it’s because she knows that Peter will never be married, and she’d set her heart on Jeanie being her daughter, and – oh, I can’t explain it, it’s all mixed up, but he’s afraid of her going right over the edge and never getting better. So, you see …’
‘We can’t get married,’ May said. ‘We can’t get married until she’s better. Perhaps we never will.’
‘No!’ he cried. ‘No, don’t say that. She will get better, as time goes on, I know she will. When the war ends – or sometime. But I can’t do anything to upset her any more now. I couldn’t have that on my conscience for the rest of my life.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, you can’t.’
Again, they sat wrapped in silence until Ben heaved a large sigh. ‘Well, that’s it, darling. That’s what I wanted to tell you. It’s up to you now. You might not want to wait for however long it takes. You might think it’s all too difficult and we’d better say goodbye now, and stop seeing each other.’
May turned her face towards his. There were tears on her cheeks and her dark brown eyes were wet with more. But there was a determined set to her chin, and a firmness to her red lips.
‘I’m never going to say that, my flower,’ she said. ‘Never in all this world. But there’s something you ought to be saying to me.’
‘Is there? What’s that?’
‘With all this talking,’ she said, ‘you’ve still never asked me if I’ll marry you. I don’t want you to go down on one knee or give me expensive flowers or nothing like that – that bunch of primroses and violets you picked for me is better than anything you can get in a shop. But I would like you to propose to me.’
He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.
‘Oh, May, May! I love you so much.’ His smile faded and he took both her hands in his once more. Then he looked deeply into her eyes and said very seriously, ‘May, my darling. I really do love you. Very, very much. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?’
For a second or two, as she gazed back at him, he held his breath. And then her face broke into a beaming smile, and she threw both her arms round his neck and kissed him.
‘Oh, yes!’ she cried. ‘Yes, I will – and I don’t care how long we have to wait!’
Chapter Twenty-Two
They couldn’t keep it a secret.
For the first few days, both Ben and May went around hugging it to themselves, thrilled with the shining promises they had made to each other. They considered themselves engaged now, but it seemed too new and precious to share at first. Then Ben said, ‘You ought to have a ring, you know. Why don’t we go into Tavistock tomorrow and buy one?’
May looked at him. ‘I can’t do that without telling the family first. I know I don’t have to have their permission, but I think my dad would like to be asked. ’Tis only polite.’
‘Yes. I ought to do that.’ Ben thought for a minute, then said anxiously, ‘What do you think he’ll say? You told me he and your mum didn’t seem too keen on the idea. You don’t think he’ll refuse, do you? What will we do then?’
‘Cross that bridge when us comes to it, flower.’ She took his hand. ‘I don’t think they’ll be all that surprised, to tell you the truth. I’ve dropped a hint or two just lately, to put them in the way of it, like. I reckon they’ll have chewed it over quite a bit when I’ve been out of the way.’
Ben grinned. ‘So it’s not exactly a matter of me asking, more just telling them they’re right, is that it?’
‘Well, us hopes so, don’t us. Mind you, ’twas only a hint – but I caught Mother turning out some of my nan’s old lace tablecloths the other day, the ones she was given for a wedding present and never used. She put ’em away quick when I came into the room, but I knew what she were doing all right.’
‘That sounds promising,’ he said. ‘I’d better do it straight away. With things as they are at the moment, I never know whether I’m going to be able to get away from the station. I just wish we could be getting married instead of engaged, but there’s nothing we can do about that.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I do feel better about waiting now, though. Being able to talk to you about it and be properly engaged has made a big difference. I just want that ring on your finger now, so that everybody knows about it, and no big, husky Devon lad tries to take you away.’
May laughed. ‘Not much chance of that! I know every Devon lad for miles around, and anyway most of ’em are away. Come home with me now, Ben, and talk to Father. And then we can go to Tavi first thing in the morning.’
It seemed to Ben almost as if he was expected at the cottage that morning. The living room was clean and tidy, with May’s father sitting up in the big chair they’d set up for him. After coming downstairs for Christmas he’d announced that, since it was only his legs that were paralysed, he didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t sit in a chair just as well as in a bed, and old Mr Prettyjohn had altered his own armchair so that it had a longer part at the front for his son’s legs to rest on. The bed itself was disguised as a settee during the day and they had even devised a way of transferring the invalid to it at night. William Prettyjohn was now much more part of the family, and his cheerful face and busy hands had quickly become an important feature by the big inglenook fireplace.
‘Well, here’s a sight for sore eyes,’ Mrs Prettyjohn welcomed Ben when he and May came in through the back door. ‘And how be you, my handsome? You’m looking extra smart this morning. Go in and say hello to my William and I’ll put the kettle on.’
Ben did as he was told. William Prettyjohn looked up from the leather bag he was making and nodded. ‘Mornin’, young Ben. Bit of time off?’
‘A few hours.’ Ben sat down in the chair opposite. He felt unusually awkward, but William merely went on pushing his thick needle through the leather and drawing the thin strips through the holes. Perhaps I ought to ask him now, Ben thought, and cleared his throat.
&nb
sp; ‘Here we be then, my flower.’ Mrs Prettyjohn came bustling through the kitchen door with a tin tray on which he saw four cups and saucers and a plate of scones. ‘Must’ve smelled these baking, you must. Grandpa’s gone to do a bit of gardening for old Mrs Hubbard down in Buckland, so it’s just us, all cosy. Here, Ben – take two while you’re at it, save me passing it over again.’
Once again, Ben did as he was told. Still feeling shy and awkward, he sat eating the scones which for once tasted like dust in his mouth, and listening to the others talking. He replied when someone addressed him directly, but apart from that he was silent. He glanced at May once or twice and she gave him a reassuring smile, but his heart was thumping so hard he felt sure they must be able to hear it and he could only manage a faint, wavering grin back.
‘What’s that noise?’ William asked suddenly, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
‘Oh, it’s just Norman Philly, come with a load of logs. He said he’d be by this morning.’ Mrs Prettyjohn jumped up and hurried to the back door. May got up too and followed her.
‘I’ll go and help.’ She gave Ben a meaningful look and closed the door behind her.
William Prettyjohn picked up his work again and Ben stared hopelessly at the empty fireplace. For a moment, he entertained the thought of just not asking – of just letting it go, keeping the engagement secret and waiting until another day. Or week. Or even – but no, that was silly. Whatever was the matter with him? He could fly an aircraft over Europe, fighting the enemy, risking his life every night, yet he couldn’t ask this man a simple question. He cleared his throat and the other man glanced up.
‘Got a bit of a cold, have you, boy?’
‘No,’ Ben said desperately. ‘As a matter of fact, there’s something I want to ask you, Mr Prettyjohn.’
‘Ask away then,’ William said, stitching imperturbably.
‘It’s – it’s just that – well, you must know that May and I are fond of each other.’ He could feel the heat rising up his body, apparently from the ends of his toes to his ears. He went on rapidly, ‘I mean, we’re really fond of each other. We – we love each other, Mr Prettyjohn, and we want to get married. Well, engaged, anyway. I want to buy her a ring. I thought we could into Tavistock tomorrow and get it, but I thought I ought to ask you first and – and so, that’s what I’m doing.’ He stopped, feeling that he hadn’t done this at all well. ‘Would – would that be all right with you and Mrs Prettyjohn?’