by Rosie Harris
‘If she doesn’t like her boyfriend talking to other girls then she should stay with him herself.’
‘Carlile doesn’t hunt.’
‘Oh dear, how very remiss of him!’ Lucy retorted with affected concern. ‘Probably he tries to keep it secret so that people don’t ostracise him.’
‘Don’t be childish, Lucy,’ Russell snapped, biting his lips in annoyance. ‘No one is ostracising you.’
‘We were talking about Carlile Randell, not me,’ she retorted.
‘Carlile does ride, he’s a superb horseman. He just doesn’t hunt … except other men’s wives.’
‘Touché! That was not very gentlemanly, Russell,’ Lucy giggled, hysterically. ‘Anyway,’ she added demurely, ‘he didn’t need to be a predator on this occasion. As I told you, your mother asked him to be my escort. She probably felt sorry for me, knowing you had gone off with Melany.’
‘Utter rubbish. I’ve partnered Melany on the hunting field for the past ten years and since you weren’t with us, she would expect me to do so today.’
‘She might, but I don’t,’ Lucy flared.
‘Look, let’s discuss this later, people are looking at us,’ Russell muttered.
‘All right. Then you had better take me home,’ Lucy stated, ‘or do you have to escort Melany Buscombe home first?’
‘You’d better go back in my mother’s car. I have a horse,’ Russell said stiffly.
Lucy burned with humiliation all the way home. By the time Russell arrived she had worked herself up into a towering rage and even before he had time to pull off his riding boots she attacked.
‘Next time you find it necessary to go off with someone else and leave me marooned with strangers, at least leave a message,’ she stormed.
‘We’ve been over all this once,’ Russell protested. ‘Anyway, you must have heard about the accident.’
‘Yes, by listening to the gossip going on,’ she snapped, ‘and it didn’t stop there!’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘As if you didn’t know! Everyone was agog about you and Melany Buscombe being together again. Some were even betting how long it would be before it was permanent.’
‘That’s absolute rubbish! I’m a married man, or had you forgotten.’
‘I hadn’t, but I thought perhaps you had … and so did a lot of other people,’ Lucy said sweetly.
‘Melany is practically engaged to Carlile Randell, something he probably forgot to tell you,’ Russell retorted.
They stood glaring angrily at each other, Russell’s green eyes emerald chips under furrowed sandy brows as he towered over her.
She looked up at him defiantly, standing her ground, still furious because he had been so inattentive, and refusing to accept his criticism of her behaviour.
Their altercation was abruptly ended by the Colonel bursting into the room.
‘Your Commanding Officer is on the phone, Russell. Some sort of emergency to do with this Falklands business.’
By the time Russell returned, Lucy’s anger had subsided. She loved him too deeply to be able to remain on bad terms with him for very long. It frightened her when they quarrelled. Russell could be so unbending, so obdurate.
She saw from his face, the moment he came back into the room, that something was wrong.
‘I’ve got to leave at once,’ Russell announced. ‘My Company is being sent to the Falklands. I must get back to London. Are you coming with me, Lucy or staying here?’
‘I’ll come with you, of course.’
‘Pack your things then, while I get changed and fetch the car round.’
Their squabble forgotten, they took their leave of the Colonel and Kate. The Colonel was visibly proud that Russell was to play a part in ‘putting the Argies in their place’.
Ever since the disturbance had come to public notice, the Colonel had been vociferously detailing the tactics he would use if he was in charge. No one had paid too much attention, since most of them believed that the threat of war would blow over without a single shot being fired.
On the drive back to London, Russell expressed his concern about what Lucy would do during his absence.
‘I shall probably stay on at the flat. I have plenty to do there to keep me busy,’ she said evasively.
‘I may be gone for several months,’ he said in a worried voice.
‘Surely it will all be over in a couple of weeks!’
‘It will take longer than that to even get there,’ he told her, dropping a hand from the wheel to squeeze her knee. ‘It’s over eight thousand miles from here to Port Stanley!’
‘Two days’ flying time.’
‘They won’t fly us there! We’ll have to go by ship.’
‘That will take months!’ Lucy exclaimed in shocked surprise.
‘About five or six weeks. That is why I’m concerned about you staying in London on your own.’
Lucy was silent, suddenly afraid. The Falklands War was no longer a vague encounter somewhere out in the South Atlantic but something that was going to affect her life for quite some time to come.
‘Will Hugh be going? If so, I could stay with Ruth.’
‘I don’t know until I see Orders,’ Russell told her crisply. ‘Whether he is or not, I don’t think you should be seen staying in Married Quarters with the wife of one of my Sergeants!’
Tears blurred Lucy’s vision. The three-lane M3 motorway became a never-ending, yet ever-narrowing, grey speedtrack, rushing her to eternity. Why was it that whenever she mentioned her family it raised a question of protocol and her loyalty to Russell and his career. Why couldn’t officers mix freely when they were off duty. How could it possibly undermine discipline.
If Hugh went to the Falklands, he would be sharing the same rigours of war as Russell. They would be living in close proximity to each other night and day, eating the same food, fighting the same enemy, breathing the same air, and facing the same dangers. So what was wrong with their wives sharing their worries and fears and comforting each other in their loneliness.
‘Don’t worry about it, darling,’ Russell consoled, taking her silence for apprehension because she would be alone in their flat. ‘You could always have a friend to stay.’
‘Yes, of course. As long as she is the wife of someone who is an officer and a gentleman,’ she added softly.
Russell glanced at her briefly, frowning slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said?’
‘Nothing. I was thinking aloud.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Perhaps I will ask my mother to come and stay. The change might do her good. She said in her last letter that she was feeling very lonely now that Mark has gone to New Zealand and she is on her own …’
Russell’s frown deepened and Lucy saw his hands grip the steering wheel a little more tightly.
‘You wouldn’t mind her coming to stay at the flat, would you?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘No. No, of course not. Not as long as Ruth, and her children, don’t visit her there.’
Chapter 25
The quayside at Southampton Dock was jammed with people. Mothers, fathers, wives and children, from every part of Britain, all come to wave off their menfolk. Standing there amongst them, Lucy felt as if she was in some sort of dream. The light breeze, still carrying a March bite, sent a shiver through her as it chased wispy white clouds across the early April sky.
The 45,000-ton luxury liner Canberra had been requisitioned as a troopship and now it stood in Berth 106 dominating the scene. Hermes and Invincible, the latter with Prince Andrew amongst the thousand men crammed on board, had already sailed down the Portsmouth Channel and now the television crews and reporters were turning their full attention on the Canberra.
Lucy couldn’t visualise the Falklands. She had barely known where the remote islands in the South Atlantic were when Russell and the Colonel had been discussing the imminent invasion and the military tactics that would be involved. Even now, when she knew it would probably take Russell five
or even six weeks to reach there, she still felt the whole thing was something of a nightmare and beyond her comprehension.
A great sense of loneliness swept over her as she saw Russell’s tall straight figure walking up the gangplank. It was almost as if he was going out of her life for ever. As she remembered the bittersweet hours they had spent in each other’s arms, after they had arrived back from Somerset, she wanted to shout out and stop him, attract his attention in some way and bring him back to her side. She couldn’t bear to think of the empty lonely nights ahead.
Tears gathered and stung behind her eyes and she blinked them away rapidly, refusing to give way in public. Russell would be so ashamed of her if she did.
Last night, with his strong arms around her, it had been so easy to promise not to become despondent. His lips had been brushing over her cheeks, caressing her eyes, nuzzling the lobes of her ears, as he had urged her to be brave.
She had even felt strong and courageous and confident about facing life on her own. As their lips had met she had responded to the demands of his hungry mouth with matching fervour.
His strength had communicated itself to her as his long, sensitive fingers moved down the length of her body, exploring and caressing with infinite tenderness until they aroused a fiery passion in her. As the glow of her body grew to a burning heat, a fire that he alone could appease, she had shuddered with agony knowing that soon they must part.
Much as he loved her, Russell could not conceive her anguish. At that moment, physical consummation of their love had been uppermost in his mind. Skilfully, he brought her to a tumultuous climax, fulfilling his own needs with each deep penetration, until satiated and expended he slept, his body still entwined with hers.
While he slept, she cradled him, gently stroking the back of his head, conscious of the waves of warm breath that fanned over her breasts from his parted lips as he breathed deeply and regularly. She carefully timed her own breathing to match his, so that the rise and fall of their bodies was as one.
Indulgently, her hands moved lightly over the nape of his neck, travelling down across his broad shoulders to the defined waist and tight round buttocks. As her fingers skimmed their hardness, his muscles tightened and she felt again the stirring of his penis against her as it hardened into life.
A groan of desire escaped her as her fingers gently manipulated it into position. Then she lay perfectly submissive, receptive to every tiny tremulous movement, deriving blissful pleasure from the swell within her. She found it so thrillingly sensuous, that she wanted the sensations that were building up to last for ever. The tiny throbbing stabs, that rippled out to reach every nerve end; the slow mounting pulse that grew fuller and bigger until she thought she would expire from sheer ecstasy; the deep sweet sensations, like waves lapping up the shore, dribbling back and then returning with a thunderous crash.
Her entire body seemed united with Russell’s. Their breath mingled. Wherever their skin touched it adhered, one to the other, as though glued together. Their very bones seemed to be entwined, and even their senses were in absolute harmony.
Although she had no signal that he was awake, he was suddenly there right with her, his body demanding, giving, taking, fulfilling; joining hers in a rhythm as old as time itself, a breathless aching struggle for unity and Utopia that transported them both into limbo.
Breakfast had been a desultory affair, their passion of the previous night forgotten in the rush for Russell to report back on time. Listening to the controlled excitement in his voice as he detailed what his programme was likely to be, her stomach knotted. It was hard to believe that he was looking forward to it, actually relishing action on such a scale. He discounted his tour of duty in Northern Ireland as ‘skirmishes’ and in Zimbabwe as a mere ‘training exercise’.
It was the first time she had fully realised that Russell was trained to kill … or be killed. Panic rose like bile in her throat. What sort of man was this she had married who could become ecstatic at the thought of fighting, of being an integral part of the war machine, who was prepared to travel halfway round the world to kill his fellow man.
A hysterical giggle bubbled up as she wondered if protocol was involved when it came to dealing with the enemy. Would Russell only kill officers, or were officers exempt and only Other Ranks killed?
Ashamed of her flippancy, Lucy concentrated on being as supportive as possible. After he’d left the flat, she remained at home, waiting for his call to tell her exactly when he’d be leaving for the Falklands. She kept the volume low on the television so that she would hear the very first bleep of the phone. She slept fitfully, snapping back to consciousness at the slightest sound. When Ruth phoned, to let her know that Hugh was also going to the Falklands, Lucy was so anxious to clear the line, in case Russell was trying to get through to her, that she didn’t even ask when, or which ship he’d be on.
Now the actual moment for Russell’s departure had arrived, Lucy felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Almost blinded by tears, she turned to Kate and the Colonel for comfort and support. They had travelled up from Walford Grange and come straight to the dockside, the Colonel bursting with pride at the sight of Russell ready to go on board the Canberra, Kate stoically controlling her feelings behind dark glasses.
Kate’s gaze remained fastened on her son as he walked up the gangplank. The Colonel, too, was intently following the progress of the straight-backed, square-shouldered figure, a look almost of envy on his fierce face. Feeling only desolation, Lucy raised a hand in a farewell wave as Russell, having reached the deck, paused to turn and salute before disappearing from their sight.
‘The Guards will sort out the Argentinians in next to no time, you just wait and see,’ the Colonel boomed confidently, as they turned away.
‘It will take them over five weeks to get there,’ Lucy said wistfully.
‘Once they land and attack it will all be over.’
‘It still means Russell may be away for months!’ Lucy gulped.
‘Hmm. You do have a point. Perhaps you should come and stay with us for a while. You don’t want to be on your own in London at a time like this.’
‘My sister is in London,’ Lucy said. ‘Her husband is going to the Falklands as well.’
‘Let’s see, he’s a sergeant though, isn’t he?’ The Colonel frowned, pulling at the ends of his moustache.
‘Ruth is still my sister. She will miss Hugh just as much as I will miss Russell,’ Lucy said defiantly.
Kate patted her hand kindly. ‘Why don’t we leave all these decisions until later. Phone us in a day or so, when you have had time to decide what you want to do. Don’t stay on in London and be lonely.’
‘Thank you. Perhaps in a couple of weeks’ time.’
Kate kissed her coolly, almost impersonally. The Colonel simply patted her shoulder and echoed his wife’s invitation as they walked away to where he had parked his car.
Determined to be self-sufficient, Lucy remained alone in her Mayfair flat. With each passing day she felt more and more nervy as she scanned the newspapers, listened to the radio reports and watched the graphic developments shown on television. She was so edgy that she found it hard to keep to any routine, or to concentrate. Sleep was impossible, her mind worked overtime.
Each night, as she went to bed, Lucy remembered the last night she and Russell had spent together and her feeling of desolation increased. Her need of him was a continuous ache, sapping her interest and energy for even routine activities.
When Sheila Collins called on her unexpectedly, she was shocked to find Lucy looking thin and haggard, her blonde hair lank and dull, her face devoid of makeup.
‘For heaven’s sake, Lucy, pull yourself together,’ she told her sharply. ‘Put the kettle on and make a coffee.’
As she followed Lucy through to the ultra-modern kitchen, Sheila gasped in despair at the chaos that met her eyes. It looked as if Lucy hadn’t cleaned up or washed a single cup since Russell had left over three weeks earlier.
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br /> While the kettle boiled, Sheila stacked the dirty dishes, filled the sink with hot suds and began washing up.
‘Here,’ she tossed a teacloth towards Lucy, ‘start drying up.’
Listlessly, Lucy picked up one of the cups and stood staring down at it until Sheila finished washing the others and took it from her.
‘Sit down, Lucy, out of the way. I’d ask you to make the coffee but you’d probably forget to put any powder in the cups,’ she said exasperatedly.
Over coffee Sheila told her that Gary had also left for the Falklands. They had been away on holiday when he had been recalled from leave and although he was supposed to sail on the Canberra she wasn’t sure whether he had made it to Southampton in time or not.
Lucy took some comfort from knowing that Gary and Russell would be together. Ever since Gary had been made Platoon Sergeant there had always been a degree of rapport between him and Russell and she would never forget that it had been Gary who had introduced her to Russell.
After Sheila had gone home, Lucy found herself worrying much less about Russell. She still felt desperately lonely but whereas before she had been listless and apathetic she was now restless. In the end, she could stand the isolation no longer and phoned Kate to ask if she could take up her invitation.
‘Of course, you are always welcome.’
‘Would it be all right if I came right away?’
‘Russell’s room is always ready so come whenever you wish,’ Kate told her.
Chapter 26
As the Canberra slipped anchor and headed down the Solent, Captain Russell Campbell stood on deck, peering down at the quayside trying to detect his wife and parents amongst the many hundreds of people grouped there, but from where he stood they looked like figures in a Lowry painting.
Parting from Lucy had been heartrending. Seeing her forget-me-not blue eyes mist over with tears, her mouth tremble as she tried to control her feelings, had been like a knife turning in his heart.
He would have felt so much happier if she had agreed to go and stay at Walford Grange. He would have known she was safe, protected, taken care of and looked after properly. Staying on her own in London was madness. She had never lived on her own before so she would be lonely and probably frightened. And half-starved into the bargain, he thought grimly, since shopping and cooking were certainly not Lucy’s strong points, as he had quickly discovered.