by Hall, Ian
“That’s daylight robbery!”
“Aye, but you walk out of the hotel door onto the first tee.”
“I don’t care if you walk out the front door to the pearly gates!” She shook her head emphatically. “It’s terrible. In wartime too.” She touched my sleeve. “You’ve got enough, right?”
“Oh, they gave me enough, alright.” I patted my jacket pocket. “I’m even under instruction from the owner of the newspaper to buy rounds of drinks for the other players. It’s all a matter of shaking the right hands, saying the right words.”
It took me a while to get to sleep that night, and when I did, I had golf dreams. They had big greens, but unfortunately also had small holes.
We’d lied to mum. The next day we got on the tram on Bruntsfield Place with luggage and golf bag, just down from Davidson’s Menswear, and got off at the top of the Waverley Steps; we had no intention of going to work that day.
We dropped off our cases and my golf clubs at the Left Luggage at the railway station, and like two recalcitrant truants, headed out the back door of the station. We had one task to perform before starting our trip. The exit onto Market Street deposited us right at the main print doors of the newspaper. I almost giggled. We turned quickly west, hiding my face with my hand, heading for one of the staircase closes up onto Cockburn Street.
Emerging breathless onto the street above, I soon found my objective; Brown’s Emporium.
It was only when I stood outside the shop, catching my breath, looking at the jewelry in the window that I realized I was holding Alice’s hand. I looked at her reflection in the window, her gaze taken by the shiny objects before her, then looked down. Aye. Right enough, my hand was clasping hers, and hers mine.
I don’t even recall when we’d started that. Maybe I’d helped pull her up the stairs? It had been a steep climb.
However, letting go seemed to be a damn sight harder thing to do. “Shall we go in?”
She nodded, and as I opened the door, our hands parted. To my surprise I didn’t know if I felt good or bad about it.
On old man roused himself from his Scotsman newspaper and stood up behind the counter. “What can I do for you today?”
“We’d like wedding rings please.” I said with an amazing amount of confidence.
“Certainly,” he began to shuffle trays from under the counter. “What metal?”
“Gold,” I replied. “But nothing too expensive, there’s a war on.”
“It’s all but finished if it’s the paper you’d believe.” The old man said. He placed three trays on the counter. “All gold, all plain. They start at five pounds. They’re all in size order, the nearer to you, the smaller they are.”
I began to rummage, and in three attempts, had one that fitted well. I looked to Alice, who seemingly had done the same. Instinctively we held our hands up together. They looked like a matched pair, and we grinned stupidly as newlyweds would. “How much?”
He looked at the small paper tags that fell from the rings. “Hmm, they’re both eighteen carat; that would be twelve pounds for the two.”
I could hardly believe the cost, but I took a deep breath. “Maybe we should look for something less…”
“We’ll give you eight.” Alice said. Her fingers splayed, looking longingly at the ring. “Not a penny more.”
I stood flabbergasted. I knew my mouth was open. “Agnes?” I said deliberately, giving my wife her weekend name.
Her gaze never left the ring. “This is the first shop we’ve tried. There are lots more.”
To my surprise, the man clasped my hand, forming my fingers into a handshake. “Eight pounds it is!” he deftly pulled the price tickets from the rings. “Hold on, I’ll get boxes for them.”
“No, it’s alright,” Alice/Agnes said, making a fist near her face, examining the ring some more. “We’ll just wear them. Pay the man, darling.”
When I got my two pounds change, she grabbed my coat lapels, pulled me close, and kissed me. “Thanks, hubby, they’re the nicest rings on the planet.” I swear her lipstick tasted of sugar or something equally as sweet.
With our hands clasped together, we retraced our steps back down to Waverley Station, to the Left Luggage, and made our way onto the platform.
It had been a while since my last trip by train, an outing to the seaside when Frances was ten if I remember rightly, just before Dad joined up.
The Glasgow train was waiting at the platform.
We got into the carriage and found an empty compartment, stowed our luggage and settled down, Alice/Agnes at the window, and me, James/Derek beside her. Our hands were still clasped, and yes, Alice looked at her ring with every passing moment.
Soon our compartment began to fill, a businessman, a policeman, an older man, maybe in his sixties.
The whistle sounded, and with a bellow of smoke outside, we juddered then moved slowly away. Biggles’ weekend as a collaborator, married master-spy had begun.
Around Falkirk, Alice leaned back on me, and promptly fell asleep, not waking until we slowed down into Glasgow. “Did I fall doze off?” she asked, her eyes still half closed.
I leaned forward and kissed her, then froze, not sure where the idea had sprung from.
Alice looked at my stupefaction and smiled. “We are married, remember,” she said softly as the other occupants filed out of the door. “We have to be believable.” And then she kissed me back. Longer this time.
Then the guard’s whistle called us back to reality and we scrambled to get our suitcases and golf clubs from the overhead racks.
Trains ran between Edinburgh and Glasgow every hour, Troon, however was a little bit more remote. If we didn’t get on the 2 o’clock train to Stranraer, we’d be stranded in the Glasgow until after five, and the operation would be in jeopardy.
We stood on the platform from one o’clock, huddled together against the breeze that came from the north-west. I felt awkward, not certain of my position in the whole ‘relationship’ thing. I wasn’t sure of how committed to acting the role of wife she was, and how much was real.
I used my time of doubt to take a good look around, not recognizing anyone from earlier. Now certainly wasn’t the time to get sloppy. A pair of Germans soldiers strolled along the platform, asking for papers. To move away would have been suspicious, so I just let them come. “Get your papers ready, dear.” I nudged Alice.
“Oh, okay.” She rummaged in her handbag. “I’ve been dreaming a bit, haven’t I?
“Me too,” I sought for the right words, then just smiled. I looked at my new papers, Derek Dewar, 43 Rumpole Gardens, UpHall.
“Papieren, Bitte?” I turned, handed over my folded card.
The officer, a captain, gave it a cursory glance. “Where do you travel today, Herr Dewar?”
“Meine Frau und ich gehen nach Troon.” I said, the phrase somewhat rehearsed. He handed back the card, nodding, obviously impressed, and walked away.
“Well said, hubby,” Alice hugged my arm, kissed me again. This time I pulled her in for a longer embrace. Our chilled lips met moistly, and I luxuriated in the moment. When I opened my eyes, looking over her head, I saw the officer looking over his shoulder watching us. We met gazes, he smiled, saluted, and turned away.
“It seems we look the part.” I swept my hand round her shoulders, pulled her close again. I liked the feeling, hoped beyond hope that it might continue after the weekend was over.
We arrived in Troon just after four, and hopped into a waiting taxi.
When I pulled my travel-weary body out of the car five minutes later, I could hardly believe the scene. A sunset over the Atlantic is always spectacular, but this one held a little more warmth than most. With a teenager taking our luggage upstairs to our room, I hit the bar, grabbed a beer and a spritzer, then headed out into the atrium.
I handed Alice the drink, then chinked her glass. We watched the sun disappear behind the distant hills of the Isle of Arran. As I sipped my beer, Alice’s hand in mine, I rea
lized I could have sat there forever.
It was the Best of Times
As the last rays of sun dropped behind the horizon, a quiet bell sounded behind us. When we retired into the hotel bar we could see guests coming downstairs for dinner. “Hmm, it looks like dining at the hotel’s a pretty formal affair.”
“So let’s go change.” Alice replied, pulling my hand towards the stairway.
I deposited my glass on a table I passed, and let myself be guided upstairs. I glanced at the number on the tab of the single key. “Room 205.”
“So I’m thinking second floor?”
I nodded. “Yes, darling.”
Our room was bigger than I expected, and our cases sat on the large bed against the longest wall.
I stood for a moment, looking at the solitary large bed in the room, slightly sobered.
Alice began pulling clothes out of her suitcase, until she found the dress she needed. “Turn away.” She snapped at me, trying to hurry. “I’m suddenly starving.”
It only seemed to take her thirty seconds, then I got afforded the same courtesy, and donned my black dinner jacket, the nicest tie.
The dining room was almost full when we got downstairs. We were shown to a small table by the wall, set for two. I looked around casually, not searching for my contact, more curious as to the people who could afford such luxury in wartime. Yes, there were some German officers, even one general, but the majority of those seated were civilians, although I did hear a few English accents.
“James!” thankfully the remark had been spoken quite near us.
I looked up to see John McIntyre standing over me. I feigned confusion, then made out the penny had dropped. I stood up. “Why it’s McIntyre, John, McIntyre.” I looked to the woman on his arm.
“Sadie Courtney, meet an old friend of mine, from… way back…”
“Derek,” I snapped, and watched confusion fleetingly flash over his face. “Derek and Agnes Dewar. We’re here for the weekend.” I leaned forward. “We have to use false names, I’m afraid, her father’s a policeman.” I shook my head. “Way too protective, if you know what I mean.”
Alice stood, shook hands. “Father is a detective, I’m certain he phones every Hotel in the country when I eventually manage to break away for a couple of days.”
“How dreadfully boring.” Sadie said, “And the rings?”
“Oh those are just for show, you know, make it less disgraceful, less scandalous.” And the two slipped into hushed ‘Dads are terrible’ talk.
“Are you here for the gowf?” John asked.
I grinned at the term. “Aye, I’ve got a tee time tomorrow morning, want to make it a pair?”
He frowned. “What about the wife? Won’t she mind?”
“Oh, she just a caddy, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I’d be honored, old bean. What time are we off?”
“A quarter past ten.”
“Okay, if I don’t see you in the bar later tonight, I’ll see you on tee tomorrow.”
We said our goodbyes, and we sat down, alone again. “Well, that part was easy.”
As we congratulated ourselves on our good fortune, I saw many wine bottles on tables. There was a war on, and yet here, the restrictions seemed to be forgotten memories. “How much is the wine?” I asked the waiter when he approached.
“Four pounds ten shillings, sir.”
I nodded. “Then we’ll have a bottle of white please.” More than a week’s wages.
We drank it as a four course dinner arrived at our table. There were no menu’s, but I couldn’t complain. We had pheasant pate on toast, Caesar salad, followed by haggis, neeps and tatties, smothered with a strong whiskey sauce. To top it all, we were served a sherry trifle that would have gotten us drunk on its own. By the end of the meal, we were holding hands over the table, swooning into each other’s eyes, letting the combination of alcohol dance in our heads.
I felt exceedingly warm.
McIntyre did stop past our table, but he didn’t stop. He just gave me the biggest ‘cat-got-the-cream’ grin I’d ever seen. “Can’t stop, old boy. Got things to do.” And he pulled a rather drunken Sadie behind him. “Looks like you two will be following us!” And he walked away, laughing.
“Oh my,” Alice said, looking after the pair. “It looks like he’s going to have fun tonight.” Realizing her words, she clamped her hand over her mouth, looked at me in shock, then giggled behind her fingers like a teenager. “Sorry!”
I couldn’t help but join her. “Not sure she’ll remember much in the morning though.”
“No,” I swear she blushed more than I.
We got back to our room, arm in arm, and once inside I was faced with the large double bed again. Alice seemed to catch my reticent mood. “We’ll strip down to our skivvies. Come on, there’s nothing else to do, I’m not having you sleep on the floor.”
I sat on the bed, slowly taking off my outer wear, feeling the mattress move behind me. then suddenly, I felt a soft push at my back, and knew Alice had slid under the covers.
As I pulled down my trousers, I knew I had an erection, I simply couldn’t help it. I turned my head, gave her a smile, and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp, sending the room into near pitch black.
Lying on my back, I felt her hand on my arm. “I had a great evening.” She said. I could picture her smiling as she said it.
Trying to stifle my embarrassment, I turned on my side facing her, my head on the thin pillow. “I did too. We spent some money.” I giggled. “Glad it wasn’t mine.”
“The wine was nice.”
I felt her move close enough I could smell her breath on my face. God, her whole body was just inches from mine. I reached out over the coverlet, touched her cheek. “It wouldn’t have been the same with anyone else.” To my shock and shame, an image of Lilith lying beside me sprung into my head.
“You know?” Alice said. “Despite the various alcoholic concoctions, I didn’t feel one ounce of tiredness.”
“Me neither.”
“What did you think of Sadie?”
I wondered if she was setting me up for an impossible answer. “Oh, she was quite attractive.”
“Yes, but do you think what her and McIntyre were doing was, you know, terrible?”
I honestly didn’t have a clue where she was going. “What?”
“Well, you know, sleeping together and such. They weren’t married.”
“Oh, that,” I considered my answer for a moment. “There is a war on.”
“And we don’t know what’s in front of us.” Alice said. “I mean, look at Arthur Brooks, his secretary; alive one day, with hopes and dreams…”
Thankfully the image of them lying on the street did not come to mind. I was more focusing on the heat crossing from Alice’s body to mine. “And gone the next.” I said. “Sometimes you’ve got to live for the day. You know, wallow in the moment.”
A silence fell between us then Alice spoke quietly. “James? Would you think of me as terribly forward if I said I wanted to ‘get lucky’ too?”
I froze solid. I was instantly glad of the covering the darkness gave my expression. “Eh, no. Not at all.”
“James? If you want it, I do too.”
The moment I had dreamed of for years had suddenly arrived, and yet now I seemed to fear it with all my being. “Are you sure?”
“It’s not the drink talking, if that’s what you mean.” I caught the sparkle of her eyes as they met mine in the near dark. “And it’s not McIntyre’s salacious talk either. I really want to.”
“With me?” Even before the words were out of my mouth, I knew they sounded stupid.
“I don’t see anyone else beating down the door.” She shimmied closer, and I slipped my hand from her cheek, to the back of her neck. “I don’t know anyone else who I share wedding rings with.” I felt her chest hit mine, and I gasped, then her lips mashed into mine, and I gasped into her partly-open mouth.
As I pulled her to me, I be
came aware of how few layers of clothes lay between our bodies. As our kisses became more fervent, more demanding, my thoughts changed; I suddenly needed to get rid of those barriers to our lust.
I have no idea what time our carousing came to an end. I lay back on my pillow, Alice cooried into my side, her leg over me in the most intimate of embraces.
“I believe, right now, I love you, Mr. Dewar.” She whispered.
“And I, you, Mrs. Dewar.” My heart soared. “It is simply the best of times,” I misquoted Dickens.
Alice squirmed beside me in delight, her breasts pushing into my side. “From A Tale of Two Cities.”
I nodded. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…”
I felt the sting of a punch on my chest. “Worst? Foolishness?”
I grinned into the dark, then leaned away from her, switching the lamp on.
“No!” she cried, but my arm held her firm.
I looked down at her upturned face, beautiful in the yellow light, her cheeks full of color. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” I touched her cheek. “It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,” I felt tears fall down my cheeks. “And if we’ve been foolish tonight, then God take me, for I don’t care.” We smiled at each other. “It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,” I slid down the bed, my face now level with hers. “We’ve done it in the dark, now we’re going to do it with the light on!” I rolled on top of her, taking my weight with my arms, pinning her with my legs. “It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.” I stretched my neck to kiss her once more, and felt her head rise to meet me. “And if I’m going to hell for this, Alice, I’m going to enjoy it all the way.” And I lowered my body to hers once more.
A Slice into the Rough
I awoke to a shaking of my foot and a man standing at the bottom of our bed.