Zadruga

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘Marry me.’

  The floor felt as if it were shelving away at her feet. She put a hand out to the wall, certain she was about to faint.

  ‘Marry me,’ he said again fiercely. ‘Say yes and I’ll honour your mother’s insane conviction the two of you should stay. Say no and I’ll put both of you under arrest and have you driven out of here in chains.’

  ‘I …’ She tried to speak and couldn’t. Her throat was so constricted no sound would come. She stared at him in wide-eyed incredulity, the blood fizzing in her ears.

  The noise from the streets had become deafening. There was the sound of truck engines revving, women sobbing, men shouting.

  ‘I have an evacuation to oversee,’ he said savagely. ‘Quickly, yes or no?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, having to lean her whole weight against the wall to save herself from slithering weak-kneed to the floor. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

  For a second his disbelief at her answer was almost as great as hers had been at his demand.

  He took his pistol from his holster and pressed it into her unwilling hands, then he swiftly undid his ammunition-belt.

  ‘Here. Take it. For Christ’s sake don’t be afraid to use it.’

  As she clutched the hideous cargo to her breast he pulled her against him, his mouth coming down on hers in hard, unfumbled contact. For a brief second as he raised his head from hers their eyes held and then he turned on his heel, taking the steps two at a time, sprinting back to his waiting car.

  Chapter Twelve

  Waterloo station was crammed with returning and departing soldiers. Natalie felt as if she was drowning in a sea of khaki as she stood at the barrier, jostled on all sides by bulging kitbags, waiting for Julian’s train to arrive. He wasn’t expecting her to be there and there was no real reason for her to be there. He wasn’t returning injured from the front as so many others were, nor was he returning from a vast distance. It made no difference. She had missed him mightily and she didn’t want his mother to be present when they were reunited.

  ‘It’s not quite the done thing, you know, for people of our class to wait at railway-station barriers,’ Diana had said, wondering if Natalie was unaware of the fact and would appreciate it being pointed out.

  ‘Then it ought to be,’ Natalie had responded, knowing that Diana was only trying to be helpful and not taking offence. ‘All reunions should take place at the first possible moment and all separations at the last possible moment. Despite all the risks, when I left Belgrade my family came with me to the station and I would have been devastated if they hadn’t done so.’

  She tried to imagine returning and not finding her parents and Katerina waiting in a fever of impatience at the barrier, but it was impossible.

  ‘What risks?’ Diana had asked curiously. ‘Serbia wasn’t at war when you and Julian left for Britain. Why was there any risk involved in your family coming to see the two of you off?’

  Not for the first time Natalie silently cursed the promise she had made to Julian not to talk to anyone about Gavrilo and the circumstances in which they had left Belgrade.

  ‘It just was, that’s all,’ she said frustratedly. ‘And no matter what your mother might think, Julian will be pleased to see me at the station. I know he will.’

  Her mother-in-law thought public reunions on railway station platforms vulgar and had told her so. Natalie was uncaring. Despite the giddiness and gaiety of Diana’s companionship, it hadn’t been the same as being with Julian. She had missed his humour and his common sense and his ability to comfort. She had also missed his urgent, physical need of her.

  As she stood at the barrier she felt hot and damp with longing. In an hour or so they would again be in bed together. She remembered the baby and with a flash of panic wondered if lovemaking would be dangerous for it. Surely it wouldn’t be, so early on in pregnancy? She wished there was someone she could ask; someone she could talk to. Diana would be as ignorant as herself and she certainly couldn’t broach the subject with Lady Fielding.

  As the train began to steam into the station she pressed closer to the barrier. The longer her separation from her mother, the more she missed her. Her mother would have been able to tell her everything she needed to know about having a baby. At the thought of her mother her throat tightened. She wanted her mother to be near at hand when the baby was born. What if she wasn’t? What if the war was still not over?

  Belching steam the train slid to a halt and as it did so carriage doors were flung open and what seemed to Natalie to be an entire army was disgorged upon the platform. The fierce homesickness that had been about to engulf her vanished. Somewhere in the mass of humanity now streaming towards the barriers, was Julian. What if she missed him? What if he didn’t see her in the crush?

  ‘Over here, Jimmy! Over here!’ the girl squeezed next to her shouted, waving so furiously she almost dislodged Natalie’s yellow feathered nonsense of a hat.

  Natalie adjusted it, standing on tip-toe in order to see more clearly the sea of approaching faces. She had worn the hat, which was totally unsuitable on a freezing December day, in the hope that Julian would see it and recognize it. Where was he? What if he had changed his plans? What if he wasn’t on the train at all?’

  ‘Natalie Natalie!’

  He was striding down the platform towards her, tall and broad-shouldered and incredibly handsome in his officer’s uniform.

  Pride and delight surged through her. He looked wonderful. He was wonderful.

  The second he was through the barrier his arms were around her, lifting her off her feet, hugging her tight. Incredibly she found that she was crying. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clung to him in a fever of happiness, saying joyously, ‘Oh, Julian! I’m so glad you’re home! I’ve missed you so much!’

  When he kissed her she was uncaring of the crowds around them. Her arms went round his neck and her mouth opened, her tongue sliding eagerly and urgently past his.

  When at last he raised his head from hers he said thickly, ‘God, Natalie! I can’t begin to tell you how I’ve longed for this moment! I think I would have borne it better if I’d been in France or Belgium, but only being an hour’s train ride away and not able to have leave, was utter torture.’

  ‘For me too,’ Natalie said fervently as he tucked her arm in his and then began to forge a way through the throng and towards the street. ‘Have you heard from Edward? Has he written to you since he went to Flanders? His postcards to me are so cheerful that I don’t believe a word in them. Have you heard anything about the war in Serbia? There’s so little news. All the news is about the fighting in Belgium. What does it mean in the papers when it says things are at a stalemate? How can they be? I don’t understand and no-one will explain.’

  He grinned down at her. ‘I’ll do all the explaining I can while I’m home. I’m glad you’ve made such good friends with Diana. I knew you would.’

  ‘Serbia,’ she said again, refusing to be sidetracked into talking about Diana. ‘Can’t you find out what is happening from some of your Foreign Office friends? The newspapers were full of Bulgaria’s declaration of neutrality and it made me so cross because Bulgaria’s hand in glove with the Austrians and is just waiting for the right moment before attacking Serbia from the south. Why can’t people see that?’

  The Fielding Mercedes was waiting for them. Only the chauffeur had changed. Far too elderly for active service he opened the door for them and then eased himself arthritically behind the wheel, driving towards Piccadilly at a frustratingly decorous speed.

  Sitting close together in the back seat their fingers interlocked.

  ‘I missed you,’ she said again, remembering the misery of countless afternoon teas taken with his mother present. She wondered when she should tell him about the baby and decided to wait until after they had made love. She didn’t want to run the risk of him saying he couldn’t make love to her if she was pregnant.

  His fingers tightened on hers. Though in his time at Cade
t School there had been no special weekend leave passes for London there had been opportunities to visit the nearest town. Most of his companions had found professional sexual relief there, but he hadn’t even been tempted to try. He loved Natalie and he missed her and he had kept his body clean for her. She had obviously missed him, too, for which he was profoundly grateful. Why, then, couldn’t she say that she loved him? It was a mystery he couldn’t fathom, one which endlessly tormented him.

  With his free hand he tilted her face towards his. ‘I love you,’ he said, a raw edge to his voice.

  It was a grey, chill day and in the shadowed interior of the car her eyes looked suspiciously bright. ‘I know,’ she said huskily, a leg pressed close against his. ‘I’ve been looking forward so much to your coming home.’

  For a moment he was tempted to put himself out of his misery and to ask her straight out if she loved him. Only the prospect that he might not receive the answer he craved kept him silent. Better not to know and to live in hope, than to risk having all hope dashed. They had five precious, glorious days to look forward to and he didn’t want to spoil them. After this leave it might be months before he saw her again. If the present stalemate in the trenches didn’t come to an end, it might be years.

  He said, knowing it would make her happier than anything else he could say, ‘I’ll have a word with a few people and see if I can get hold of some up-to-date information about what’s happening in the Balkans.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She snuggled closer to him. He was making everything all right, as he always did. She tried not to think about their next separation. His being in Flanders would be very different from his being at Cadet School in rural Surrey. What if he were injured? What if he were killed? She shut the thoughts from her mind. He wouldn’t be killed. The war would end soon. He would return to the Foreign Office and somehow or other he would ensure he was again posted to Belgrade.

  At the prospect of once again being home her heart soared. Her mother would no doubt hold a magnificent ball to celebrate her return. There would be parties at the Konak and afternoon strolls with Bella and the new baby in the Kalemegdan Gardens. The baby would be christened in the cathedral and would have to have a suitable complement of royal godfathers and godmothers. Alexander would be a godfather, of course, and perhaps Prince Danilo of Montenegro would be another. She wondered if, as Alexander’s future wife, the Tsar’s eldest daughter would agree to being a godmother. That might mean the Tsar and Tsarina being in attendance as well.

  At the thought of such grandeur and glory she gave a deep sigh of satisfaction, beginning to be slightly more pleased at the prospect of the baby than she was apprehensive.

  Mistaking the sigh Julian raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘Not long now, my love. A dutiful hour or so with my parents and then we’re off into Oxfordshire or Cambridgeshire in search of a quiet country inn.’

  ‘And will we stay there for all of your leave?’ she asked, her eyes widening.

  He grinned. ‘Every last little minute of it.’

  At the thought of being so completely free of Lady Fielding, Natalie’s cup was full and running over. ‘Oh, wonderful!’ she said blissfully. ‘Bella will love to be in the countryside. We can take her for long walks and …’

  He had forgotten about Bella. ‘It might be difficult to find accommodation that takes dogs,’ he began doubtfully, remembering how hopelessly trained she was.

  Natalie’s joy vanished. ‘But she’ll pine if we leave her behind! She’ll be lonely at night without me!’

  His eyes held hers, a horrid suspicion beginning to form. ‘What do you mean, she’ll be lonely at night?’

  Natalie looked a trifle sheepish. ‘She sleeps with me. I was so lonely when you went away and the bed was so big and Bella was so small…’

  It was his turn to sigh. He should have guessed. And though Bella may have been small four months ago, she wouldn’t be small any longer. Knowing that the next five nights were going to be spent à trois with an atrociously spoilt spaniel he said with stoic resignation, ‘All right. Bella comes with us but she sleeps on the floor. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ Natalie said, knowing very well that Bella would do no such thing. ‘She will. I promise.’

  It was heaven driving out of London. Julian had tossed a coin and headed north-west, towards Oxfordshire. Although his soft-topped Morgan was far less luxurious than the Fielding Mercedes, Natalie much preferred it. She sat cocooned in the fur Julian had bought her as an early Christmas present, cosy beneath a thick mohair blanket, Bella on her lap. The English countryside intrigued her. Compared to the Serbian countryside it was so neat and tidy, the fields and farmhouses arranged as if they were children’s toys. Nothing was boring. High-hedged lanes gave way to woods and the woods in turn opened on to high ridges looking out over furrowed fields or on to small groupings of houses around a village green. Always the groupings were the same. At a distance would be the manor house, set in parkland, then there would be a farm or two, a church and parsonage, an inn, a cluster of small houses and in the centre of the village, an oak tree or a yew tree that looked as if it had been growing there for a thousand years.

  The inn at which Julian stopped was thatched, had overhanging eaves and exquisite, diamond-paned windows. As they stepped beneath a hooded doorway, Natalie felt as if she were stepping back into the Middle Ages. For the first time it occurred to her that she could tolerate a month or two in England every year, providing their time was spent in the countryside and not in the house at Cambridge Gate.

  Immediately they signed the guest register they were offered afternoon tea. Impatient to hurl themselves into bed, but not wanting to make their intention obvious, they said they would take it in their room. They walked up the tortuously uneven staircase hand-in-hand, Bella scampering at their heels, praying that the unwanted tea would arrive quickly and that they could then lock their bedroom door and forget about the outside world.

  ‘A baby?’ He had been lying naked beside her in exquisite exhaustion. Now he sat upright so suddenly that a pillow fell off the bed. ‘A baby?’ he said again, looking down at her incredulously.

  She giggled. She was lying on her back, her smoke-dark hair tumbling riotously over the pillow, her bare breasts bigger than he remembered them, the nipples silky and japonica-red. ‘Yes. A baby. Our baby.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ His face was so fiercely elated it was transfigured. ‘When did you find out? When is it due? Great God in heaven! I’d never thought … Never expected…’

  His reaction was so intense she felt a strange, almost powerful feeling stealing through her. ‘You’re pleased?’ she asked unnecessarily, pushing herself up against the pillows.

  ‘Pleased? Of course I’m pleased! I’m over the moon!’ Unable to contain himself he swung his strong, muscular legs from the bed and strode over to the window, opening it wide, uncaring of the light drift of snow that was beginning to fall. Somewhere in the distance a church bell was ringing for evening service. Cows in a nearby barn, waiting to be milked, mooed plaintively.

  She shivered as the crisp, winter air rushed into the low-ceilinged room. ‘I want the baby to be born at home, in Belgrade,’ she said, reaching for the sheet and blankets that had been kicked to the bottom of the four-poster bed and pulling them against her breasts.

  He spun around and she thought, as she so often did, how magnificent he looked naked. ‘Belgrade? We won’t be back in Belgrade for years,’ he said, concern in his eyes. ‘The war is at an impasse and talk of it being over by Easter is as pie in the sky as the earlier talk of it being over by Christmas.’ He turned, closing the window. ‘Even when it is over, travel will be difficult.’

  He began to walk back towards the four-poster, saying comfortingly, ‘That isn’t to say we won’t return at the first possible moment, because of course we will.’ He slid into the bed, drawing her close. ‘But it certainly isn’t going to be before the baby is born, sweetheart. And it may not be for quite
a long time afterwards.’

  He couldn’t see her face and the expression in her eyes. His arms were around her and her head was resting against his chest.

  ‘Don’t you intend applying for another posting in Belgrade immediately the war is over?’ she asked, her voice sounding a little odd.

  Presuming it was because she was speaking against his naked chest, he said, ‘It would be wonderful if I were able to, but return postings are frowned on. With luck we’ll find ourselves in another Slav capital, such as Petersburg.’

  She lay against him, very still. She didn’t want to find herself in St Petersburg. She didn’t want to find herself anywhere but in Belgrade. All her apprehensions about the baby returned. How could she leave him and return home if she had a baby? He wouldn’t allow her to take it with her. His ecstatic reaction at knowing he was going to be a father had been an indication of how devotedly paternal he was going to be. Which left the option of her leaving the baby with him and returning home alone.

  She thought of Bella and of how fiercely attached to Bella she was. She couldn’t imagine leaving Bella behind anywhere, under any circumstances, and if she was incapable of abandoning Bella, how could she possibly abandon her baby?

  ‘I think we should celebrate by making love again,’ he said, his lips brushing her hair, his arms tightening around her.

  As always, he awoke a response in her, but it wasn’t the same as before. Somewhere inside her something cold and hard had settled. She was his wife and separated from her family and her home because he had taken advantage of her father’s panic over her friendship with Gavrilo. It had been a panic that had been unnecessary. The Austrians hadn’t issued a warrant for her arrest. The trial was now over. If she hadn’t been coerced into marrying him, she would be with her mother in Switzerland, secure in the knowledge that they would be returning to Belgrade the very second it was possible to do so. As passion flared within her and she drew her legs high, crossing them behind his back, so did resentment and steely determination. Somehow, despite all the difficulties, she would return to Belgrade. And when she did so, she would never again leave.