Never Look Back

by Lesley Pearse

  Her eyes couldn’t even see over his shoulder and he held her so tightly she could only follow the movements of his body with her own. But then the dance floor was so tightly packed that these movements weren’t fast or intricate, and soon she was closing her eyes, listening only to the music and luxuriating in the delight of being held by strong male arms.

  She suspected the band moved on to play slow numbers just for them, for the fast jigs were more popular with the customers. With so few women to dance with, men often danced together. Indeed, part of the attraction of London Lil’s was the ridiculous performances put on by some men. She’d seen men don a sun-bonnet and apron and adopt a simpering manner with their partners. When the cancan was played there were higher kicks from men than ever were seen from the dancing girls on stage.

  But tonight she was oblivious to all but James’s hand on her waist, his cheek resting against her hair, and his lean body moving at one with hers. Somewhere along the line he let go of her right hand and let his come to rest on her shoulder, gently stroking the bare skin with the tips of his fingers. She felt the stirring of desire deep inside her, and she wished she was taller just so that his cheek could be against hers.

  A small voice whispered inside her head that she was making a spectacle of herself, but she ignored it. James was an old and very dear friend, why shouldn’t she dance with him? Fate had brought him back to her, and there was absolutely nothing to prevent them becoming sweethearts if that’s what they wanted. She knew then that was exactly what she wanted. In all this time in San Francisco, countless men had tried to woo her, but she’d given them all short shrift. Not one had ever made her feel dizzy and excited, and she’d begun to think that no man could. Until now.

  Other men tried to cut in, but James ignored them, whirling her away with a little chuckle. She kept her eyes shut because tonight she didn’t want to see curious stares or smiles. All she wanted was this state of bliss to last for ever.

  They were stopped by the band suddenly switching from the sad refrain of ‘Fair Annie’ to the frenzied rhythm of ‘Oh Susanna’ and Matilda realized the second show of the evening was about to commence.

  ‘Did you have a good time?’

  Matilda stiffened with shock at hearing Zandra’s voice as she stepped into the apartment some hours later.

  ‘Yes, it was lovely,’ she replied, lifting the oil lamp a little higher so she could see to bolt the door. She guessed by Zandra’s question that Mary had popped up to tell her she had gone out with a man.

  ‘Well, come in here and tell me all about it,’ Zandra called out. ‘I haven’t been able to sleep because I was consumed with curiosity about who you were with. Mary said she’d never seen him before, but she thought he must be an old friend.’

  Matilda went into Zandra’s bedroom and put the lamp down on the wash-stand. Her friend had made this room very attractive. Above her brass bed, drapes of blue dyed muslin were fixed to a central crown, and the quilt she’d made herself was all in different shades of blue. Propped up among pillows trimmed with lace, wearing a snowy-white night-gown and cap, she looked every inch a Contessa.

  Sitting down on the bed, Matilda explained who the stranger was, and how after dancing with her, he had asked her to go down to the Bella Union in the plaza to play the tables.

  ‘He said he wasn’t a gambling man, but that I’d bring him luck,’ Matilda giggled. ‘And I must have done, he won two hundred dollars. Then we had some supper at a new place called Georgie’s. Then he brought me home.’

  Zandra smiled. She wondered if Matilda had been kissed, her skin and eyes were glowing with a light that didn’t only come from the lamp. She recalled her friend’s stories about this man who led her wagon train, and there had been a hint she’d been disappointed he didn’t write or come to search her out at Cissie’s place. ‘And will you be seeing him again?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s taking me riding tomorrow,’ Matilda said, leaning forward, her face suddenly anxious. ‘What on earth will I wear?’

  ‘I doubt if he’ll care if you ride in your chemise,’ Zandra said tartly. ‘Not judging by the enraptured look on your face.’

  Matilda giggled. ‘You can’t imagine how good it was to see him again, Zandra. I liked him so much then, but I was pregnant and I couldn’t even begin to think of anything romantic. But it’s different now, isn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly is, and it’s high time you let a man into your life,’ Zandra said. ‘Now, about what you can wear tomorrow. I do have a riding habit in my closet. You’re welcome to wear that, I’m sure it will fit you. Unfortunately it’s bottle-green, not your colour, but I have a silk scarf you can wear which will lift it.’

  ‘Why do you have a riding habit?’ Matilda asked. Zandra never wore anything other than black, but when she moved in with her she brought four trunks of gowns and other clothes, some dating back forty years. But a riding habit seemed a very unlikely thing for her to own.

  ‘Because, my little innocent, I wasn’t always a frail old lady, I used to ride well and I loved it. So I kept the habit for old times’ sake.’

  Matilda suddenly realized how late it was. ‘I’d better go and leave you to sleep,’ she said. ‘Would you like anything before I go?’

  ‘No, my dear,’ she said. ‘It’s good to see you happy. You have a lovely time tomorrow and don’t worry about downstairs. They’ll cope without you.’

  ‘Will I do?’ Matilda said, twisting this way and that in front of Zandra’s cheval looking glass. The riding habit could have been made for her, the close-fitting velvet jacket was flattering and the skirt was divided like men’s pants, yet standing up it had the appearance of a normal long skirt. To top it off was a pert little pill-box hat with a veil and feather.

  Zandra knotted a scarf lariat-style around her neck. It was cream with green spots and instantly reflected a more flattering tone on to Matilda’s face.

  ‘Do? You look adorable,’ Zandra said. ‘Now, don’t get yourself thrown, it’s undignified, not to mention painful. If he wants to career off at a gallop, resist the temptation to copy him. I suspect your riding experience is limited to cart horses.’

  ‘It is,’ Matilda giggled, suddenly feeling as if she was sixteen again instead of twenty-six. ‘But I didn’t tell James that.’

  ‘I doubt he’s setting out to test you,’ Zandra said with a wicked grin. ‘You’ll soon know if he has if he turns up with a huge stallion for you.’

  Clearly Zandra was right, for although James rode up the hill at eleven in the morning on a fine black stallion, he’d brought a docile grey mare for her which looked at Matilda’s slight figure almost with relief.

  ‘You look splendid,’ James said with a smile. ‘I take it by that outfit you go riding a great deal?’

  Matilda wasn’t going to admit her habit was borrowed, or blurt out that she thought he looked splendid too. He was wearing his uniform and it suited him far better than civilian clothes, giving him that slightly rakish look she’d admired when they first met. But she wasn’t going to flatter him, or admit she didn’t normally ride, so she just laughed, and before he could even dismount to help her, she put one foot in the stirrups and leaped up into the saddle.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d have much use for a lady’s saddle,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘Which is just as well because the livery stables didn’t have one.’

  They took the path going away from the town, right out to beyond the last buildings, and then on to rough ground along the crest of the hills going south. It was a beautiful morning without any of the customary mist, and as there had been little rain recently it was easy going.

  They rode for perhaps an hour, chatting easily, very much the way they used to on the trail. Last night they’d talked about current things, the town and her business, but now he wanted to know everything about Tabitha and Amelia. It became increasingly clear to her that she and her children had left a vivid and permanent mark in his memory, and this thrilled her.

&nbs
p; ‘And what of your step-mother and brothers back in England?’ he asked.

  ‘I only received one letter from Dolly after I got to Oregon,’ Matilda said sadly. ‘She didn’t sound herself then, all she said was that she was very tired. I guess she must have died soon after and there was no one to let me know. I often wonder about my brothers, where they are, what they are doing. But I guess I’ll never find out now. What about your family, James, have you seen them at all?’

  ‘I kinda made the peace with them when I was back in Virginia for a while,’ he said with a wry smirk. ‘I can’t say I like them any better, but I guess getting older has made me more tolerant.’

  He didn’t elaborate on this, and reined in his horse to stop and look at a fine view of the bay. As usual it was full of ships, and in the bright spring sunshine it looked idyllic.

  ‘This would be a fine place to build a house,’ he said reflectively. ‘I could sit by a window every day and never get tired of that view.’

  ‘Would you want to settle here then if you left the army?’ she asked, her heart suddenly skipping a beat.

  ‘I used to think I would before they found gold and the whole place turned crazy,’ he said, looking at her and smiling. ‘I love the mild climate and the ocean, but I don’t think I’d want to live so close to all those vagabonds and thieves down there in the town.’

  ‘What a ridiculous sweeping statement!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘Mostly they are just adventurers.’

  ‘Like you?’ he said, raising one bushy fair eyebrow, his lips bent into a sneer.

  ‘Yes, like me,’ she retorted. ‘It’s my kind of town, I love its courage, its lack of hypocrisy, it’s a far more honest place than any other I’ve lived in.’

  He shook his head at her. ‘It may seem that way now, Matty, but when the matrons, the ministers and law and order arrive you may very well find yourself on the wrong side of the fence.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous too,’ she snapped. ‘My place is the most popular in town.’

  ‘I know, a great many people have told me so,’ he said. ‘They say everyone loves it, right from the most influential businessman down to the poorest miner and stevedore.’

  His tone wasn’t sarcastic, so Matilda told him how it was. ‘It’s really worked, James. I planned on a good, clean fun place where men could take their wives and sweethearts, something different and good. I’ve done it too, it’s a landmark, the nearest thing this town has to an institution. I can’t tell you how many of the town’s leading businessmen have tried to persuade me to let them buy a share in it.’

  ‘But tell me, Matty,’ James said, looking at her curiously, ‘do you get invited to the homes of those businessmen? Do their wives receive you?’

  ‘I haven’t got time for such things,’ she snapped.

  ‘Then perhaps that’s just as well,’ he said in a quiet voice. ‘Because if you had more time you might notice that your engagement book was rather empty.’

  That remark was the last thing she wanted to hear, for it was something she knew, but chose to ignore. Smarting with humiliation, she dug her heels into the mare’s side, but instead of the horse taking it as a signal merely to move on, she took off at a gallop.

  A gentle canter was one thing, but Matilda had no experience of riding at speed. She bobbed up and down in the saddle, holding on for grim death, in fear of being thrown, and not having the least idea how to slow the mare down, she tried to pretend she was enjoying it.

  She must have gone a couple of miles before she heard James’s horse’s hooves right behind her. ‘Whoa!’ he called out, and galloping up alongside her, he reached over and pulled on her reins, bringing the mare to a halt. ‘Why do you do everything at a gallop when you’ve hardly learnt to canter?’ he asked, grinning at her.

  Realizing he knew perfectly well she wasn’t an experienced horsewoman added to her embarrassment. She released her right foot from the stirrup to dismount, but as she cocked her leg up, she realized too late that she should have taken the left foot out too, and she slithered down the horse’s flank, only to fall on to the ground, with her foot still caught in the stirrup.

  James jumped off his horse and came rushing round to her, but instead of showing some concern, all he did was laugh. She managed to wriggle her foot out eventually, but only after exposing her entire leg to his eyes.

  ‘You arse-wipe!’ she screamed at him, jumping up to slap his grinning face. He dodged back from her, and her hand merely caught his arm. Maddened still further, she lunged at him to pummel his chest.

  He caught hold of her two elbows and jerked her towards him, and suddenly he was kissing her. She struggled momentarily, but the warmth and softness of his lips made her yield, all fight in her gone. It was over five years since Giles had kissed her that last time as he left for St Joseph. But as James’s arms slid round her, pressing his entire body into hers, all those feelings of desire and passion she’d worked so hard on forgetting came back like a flood.

  His tongue was flickering into her mouth, his hands were caressing her back, drawing her ever closer to him, till the buttons on his uniform dug into her breasts. She felt that old familiar hot surge inside her, and in that moment, if he had pushed her down on to the grass and taken her, she wouldn’t have resisted.

  It was he who broke away first, still holding her tightly but burying his head into her shoulder. ‘I shouldn’t have done that, Matty. I’m so sorry’

  She hadn’t for one moment expected an apology, and lifted his head up between her two hands so she could see his face. His expression was almost childlike, his mouth quivering, his eyes so soft, and she’d seen the same look just once before. It was the morning when Amelia was born and he’d climbed into her wagon to congratulate her. That day she’d seen it as just compassion, but somehow she knew it wasn’t that now, it was something far deeper. ‘Well, I’m not sorry,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I liked it very much.’

  ‘So did I,’ he whispered in a curiously strained voice. ‘But then I spent most of the time on the trail, and afterwards, imagining kissing you. If only I’d had the courage to do it then.’

  ‘I don’t remember you lacking courage,’ she said. ‘But things were different then, I was preoccupied with just getting to Oregon before my baby was born, and afterwards I was in no fit state to think of romance.’

  He took her hands away from his face and stepped back. He looked so troubled, his expression made her think of Treacle when he knew he’d done something wrong. She thought maybe he felt guilty that he hadn’t come looking for her.

  ‘What is it, James?’ she asked softly. ‘I can see there is something you want to say. So just tell me. I don’t believe it’s too late for us.’

  He didn’t reply, and his face became contorted as if in pain.

  ‘Tell me,’ she insisted.

  ‘I can’t, Matty,’ he said. ‘It is too late.’

  It was as if the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud. She couldn’t reply for a moment for a lump had come up in her throat which felt as if it might choke her.

  ‘You’re married now, aren’t you?’ she finally got out.

  He nodded, looking at the ground.

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. Instinct told her he had been in love with her, and if his kiss was anything to go by, he still was. Last night had been so very beautiful, so many times they’d just looked at one another and began to laugh about nothing. She had gone to bed hugging the thought of him to herself, so sure that she was on the very brink of something wonderful.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this last night?’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Why take me out, then ask me to come out riding with you today? Why, James?’

  ‘I was so thrilled to see you again,’ he said, still hanging his head and looking at her through his lashes. ‘All those feelings I had for you came back, within minutes it was just the way we used to be. I guess I just wanted to hang on to that for a little longer. If I’d told you immediately then suddenly it wou
ld have been polite, neutral conversation, and I couldn’t bear that.’

  ‘You mean I wouldn’t have danced with you,’ she said, sadly thinking of that blissful feeling of being held close in his arms, for that was the point when she knew she’d stepped over the line from friendship to something more.

  ‘I didn’t plan any of it,’ he said with a touch of anger. ‘Whatever you might think of me please bear that in mind. It was just so good to be with you again, to hear about the children, how you got here, all the important things. But the longer we talked, the more difficult it became to tell you. Because all I could think of was that I should have ridden down to the Willamette Valley, found you and asked you to marry me.’

  Matilda closed her eyes for a moment, she was remembering the way he’d tenderly tucked her into the canoe, and the sadness in his eyes as White Bear pushed off from the bank. She knew he was telling her the truth about his feelings, and in truth she was just as much to blame because she hadn’t seen it then.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

  Matilda sighed deeply. ‘How sad this is,’ she said honestly.

  ‘I was going to tell you today,’ he said, looking right into her eyes. ‘I wasn’t going to creep away like a thief in the night if that’s what you are thinking. But just tell me one thing, Matty. Did you care for me on the trail?

  ‘You know I did,’ she said indignantly. ‘I never allowed myself to think of you in that way because of my situation, but you were a dear friend.’

  ‘And later, once you got to the Duncans’ place, did you spare any thoughts for me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I was hoping you’d turn up. Tabitha and I often spoke about you.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like the feelings I had for you,’ he said, reaching out and running his forefinger across her lips, his eyes scanning her face. ‘That’s also partly why I felt no real necessity to tell you immediately that I’d married. You see, you weren’t quite the same Matty I knew. You seemed so sophisticated and worldly. I thought we could renew our friendship, laugh about old times, and I would forget how much you’d once meant to me. But when you took off just now at a gallop, and then fell off the mare, it reminded me so much of the old Matty, headstrong, independent and so utterly beguiling. I just forgot myself.’