‘I wish it could have been different.’ Fred stood up. ‘I’ll have to go now, because we have an early start in the morning. ‘He held out his hand to help Anne out of her chair. ‘I’ll write to you, and if we’re still in this country on my next leave, I’ll come to see you.’
She went to the front door with him, and Renee was left to wonder if this was the last calamity which would befall them. She couldn’t think of anything else that could happen now, except . . . She prayed with all her heart that Glynn wouldn’t be posted away from her. There had been no word of it yet, and her spirits had lifted a little by the time Anne came back. Renee saw by her mother’s set expression that she couldn’t talk about what had happened, so they went to bed, silent and uncomfortable with each other.
The following night, Friday, Glynn took Renee for a short walk, and was careful not to say anything to upset her. They had been strolling about fifteen minutes when she said, abruptly, ‘We’ll need another witness, now Fred’s away.’
‘It’s all taken care of, my lovely,’ he assured her. ‘I asked Jim Black, another sergeant, and he’s quite willing to stand up for us.’
‘Thank goodness you remembered, because it didn’t cross my mind till just now.’ She turned her head away from him suddenly, her eyes apparently fixed on a distant object. ‘And another thing I just thought about . . . Now that Granny’s gone, we’ll be able to have the two rooms after all.’
‘Yes, of course, if your mother agrees.’
She looked up at him again, repentant. ‘I shouldn’t be saying things like that, so soon, should I?’
Glynn smiled. ‘I don’t see why not, cariad. Your granny would want your happiness to come first.’
Her relief came out as a soft sigh. ‘Yes, of course she would. She’d be pleased to see us so happy. Oh, Glynn, it’s only a week and two and a half days till we’ll be husband and wife. Are you as excited as I am?’
‘I’m counting the hours, my lovely, but I know how mixed up you must be, after all that’s happened lately.’
They walked on again, unwilling to go home to Anne, who might possibly be tearful and reproachful. When they did go back, however, Renee’s mother was neither tearful nor reproachful, but was sitting thoughtfully by the fire. She looked up and smiled when they went in.
‘I’ve just realised, Renee. You and Glynn can have the two rooms now. We’ve a whole week to get things ready, so if you give me a hand to dismantle the beds, and shift things, I can start cleaning the upstairs bedroom.’
‘Oh, Mum, thank you!’ Renee was thankful that she hadn’t been the one to broach the subject, and she flung her arms round her mother’s neck.
‘It’s the only sensible thing to do.’ Anne was embarrassed.
On the afternoon of the Saturday before the wedding, Renee took her reluctant mother into town to choose their wedding outfits. Neither of them had fully recovered from the traumatic events of the past few weeks, but this was the only opportunity they had.
Anne Gordon could summon up little enthusiasm for anything, but tried to appear cheerful when they went into the various shops. There were no problems about clothing coupons, because neither of them had used any for some considerable time, and Renee chose a powder blue dress, with a silk-covered hat in a slightly deeper shade, and navy accessories, while Anne was just able to afford a black creˆpe de Chine two-piece and hat. Renee paid for the black shoes, gloves and handbag for her mother, but insisted that Anne put a white polka dot ribbon round her hat to brighten up the ensemble a little bit.
They were both exhausted by the time they went home, but Anne had caught a little of Renee’s excitement and seemed brighter.
On Sunday, Glynn Williams had to be on duty, so, after Renee had packed a few things into the travelling bag which Sheila Daun had lent her, she and her mother sat down to relax in their oldest clothes.
‘We can’t loll about like this after Glynn moves in,’ Anne remarked lazily.
Renee grinned. ‘I don’t see why not. He’ll have to see us for the couple of scruffs we are, sooner or later.’
The excitement of it being the night before the wedding kept her awake for some time. She wasn’t bothered about Glynn seeing her in old skirts and felted woollen jumpers – she’d never pretended to be a fashion plate – but what would he think when he saw her first thing in the mornings? With her face all pasty without make-up and her hair sticking up all over the place? But Glynn’s hair would probably be the same, she consoled herself, and he’d be needing a shave. It was going to be fun learning about each other properly – the little intimate things.
Intimate! Her stomach churned with the thought of what would be happening in twenty-four hours.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The taxi, which Glynn had ordered, collected Renee Gordon and her mother promptly at quarter past two, and he was waiting at the door of the Registrar’s Office with the other witness when they arrived in Bridge Street.
‘You look beautiful, darling,’ he whispered to her, then introduced the other man. ‘Jim Black . . . Renee . . . Mrs Gordon. I don’t know how he feels, but I’m beginning to shake all over with nerves.’
The other sergeant laughed. ‘I was the same when I was married, but that was two years ago, so I’m a seasoned husband now. Your nerves will soon settle down, and in another twenty minutes or so, it’ll all be over.’
Glynn’s eyes caught and held his bride’s. ‘No,’ he said.
‘It’ll be just the beginning for me.’
After the brief ceremony, the taxi took them to a hotel in Market Street, Glynn having refused to allow Anne to ‘cook something special’ as she’d proposed. When the meal was over, the four of them walked round the corner to the Joint Station, where the bride and groom were to catch a train to Edinburgh for their short honeymoon. Glynn held Renee’s hand all the way, squeezing it occasionally now and then until she felt absolutely choked with emotion and almost burst into tears with the happiness that was coursing through her.
Her euphoria was somewhat blunted by the sight of her mother standing forlornly on the platform when the train pulled out, but Jim Black would surely see that Anne got home safely, and she would only be on her own for three nights. Glynn tugged Renee’s coat when she turned to sit down, her heart again overflowing with love for him. The carriage was full, and, afraid that the other passengers would realise they were newly-weds, they meticulously avoided all contact with each other and tried to behave like a long-married couple.
It was almost nine o’clock when Mr and Mrs Glynn Williams emerged from Waverley Station, a cold wind whipping more colour into their cheeks, so they made their way to their hotel, had a drink and a cup of coffee, then went up to their room.
Renee turned to Glynn as soon as he closed the door, and they melted together in a kiss of love which turned rapidly to desire. Moving away from each other without a word, they began to undress, fumbling with buttons and fastenings in their haste.
‘I haven’t unpacked my nightie,’ Renee whispered.
‘You won’t need it tonight, my lovely.’ Glynn stood back from her. ‘Let me look at you.’
She felt embarrassed and shy while he studied her body, as naked as his own. She hadn’t stood like this since she was a small child waiting to be dried after a bath, and she wished that Glynn would allow her to get into bed. Suddenly, he stretched out his hands and led her across the room.
She lay down, shivering with anticipation and excitement.
‘Oh, Renee, Renee, you’re so beautiful,’ he breathed, exploring her with his mouth, his hands. ‘This is the happiest day of my life. I’ll always remember it, every Monday. From now on, Monday will be my lucky . . .’
He broke off, surprised by the stiffening of her body, and the sudden coldness of her lips. He was even more shocked when she pushed him roughly away from her and burst into tears.
‘Wh
at’s wrong, darling? I’m not going to hurt you. If this is your first time, I promise I’ll be very gentle . . .’
‘What made you say that?’ she sobbed.
‘About it being your first time? I don’t care if it isn’t the first time for you, sweetheart. It’s not my first time, either.’
‘It wasn’t that. You said you’d always remember, every Monday. Why, Glynn? I’ve never heard you saying anything like that before.’ Her sobs became wilder.
He was utterly mystified and sat up, hurt and frustrated.
‘Renee, tell me what I’ve done wrong. I love you, there’s nothing wrong in that. You’re my wife now, and I want to make love to you. It’s what I’ve been wanting to do ever since I met you, and I thought you wanted that, too.’
Renee knew that she’d wounded him, but his mention of Mondays had brought back the awful memory of Fergus Cooper swearing that she would remember him every time anyone made love to her on a Monday. It wasn’t Glynn’s fault, and she sobbed all the more for hurting him.
He stood up to put on his trousers and vest, and threw his shirt on the bed. ‘Put that on,’ he said harshly. ‘I don’t want you catching cold.’
As she slid her arms into the sleeves, he picked up his jacket, thrown carelessly over a chair, and pulled a packet of cigarettes from the pocket.
Renee noticed that his hands were trembling as he struck a match and held it up, and she tried to stifle her sobs. Poor, poor Glynn. She loved him so much, yet she had dealt him the most cruel blow a man could suffer – she had refused him on his wedding night. He would never want to touch her again, never want to make love to her at all. Their marriage would be over.
Fergus Cooper’s words had come true – his curse had worked. Her life was in ruins, and there was nothing she could do to salvage anything from the debris. In a few minutes, Glynn ground out his cigarette in the ashtray, and sat down on the bed. His back was to Renee, who longed to put her arms round him and tell him that her refusal had nothing to do with anything he had done, that it was her fault entirely. She couldn’t move, but her weeping was lessening. At last, his attitude of dejection, complete and utter dejection, gave her the courage to stretch out her hand to touch his bare arm.
He turned round abruptly, and the deep pain in his eyes made her cry out, ‘Oh Glynn, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I do love you.’
He kept looking at her, like a dog that had been whipped, and she propped herself up on one elbow to put her hand over his, resting on the bed.
‘It was nothing you did, Glynn, honestly. It was something you said . . .’ She gripped his hand as he attempted to move away from her. ‘Something you said, which you meant as words of love, darling, but . . .’ She couldn’t finish. She felt sick and ashamed. Ashamed of what she had to tell him, because she would have to tell him now, to explain her actions.
She studied his tortured face and her love for him swelled up inside her. She owed him this explanation, even if he loathed her for it. ‘Glynn,’ she began, softly, ‘I have to tell you . . . I want to tell you . . . it’s . . .’
‘Is it about that man that you didn’t want to remember?’ he asked, gruffly. ‘The one you spoke of once beside the park?’
‘Yes, darling. I wish I had told you everything that night. I might have lost you then, but even that wouldn’t have been so bad as . . . And if you’d forgiven me then, this . . . would never have happened.’
‘I think you’d better tell me now, Renee.’ He sounded strained, defeated.
‘Lie down beside me, Glynn, please.’
He lay down, but it was as if he were a million miles away. He did not let any part of him touch her, and she felt cold and rejected, but knew that she must go on. She told him everything, beginning with the strange looks Fergus had given her from the time he had come to their house. Neither of them looked at the other, but when she came to the time Fergus had first made love to her in the Victoria Park, and had called her his Monday girl, she saw his hands clench, but he passed no comment.
‘I was only fifteen, Glynn. I didn’t really realise what I was doing, and he knew it. I loved him blindly, as if he’d hypnotised me into doing whatever he wanted.’
She described how they’d met in secret, and how she had seen Fergus making love to another girl while she was out walking with Jack Thomson and Tim Donaldson. She knew that Glynn glanced at her then, but whether in disgust, pity, or disbelief at her naivety, she couldn’t guess, and she couldn’t meet his eyes to find out.
She told him of her suspicions regarding her mother, feeling like a traitor for dragging Anne into it, but it was necessary in order to explain what had happened later. When she told him about the ghastly confrontation which had taken place on the day the war started, Glynn laid his free hand over hers, and she knew that he felt sorry for her.
‘Renee.’ He murmured only her name, but it gave her the courage to carry on.
‘But that wasn’t the end of it, Glynn.’ Her courage failed again, at the thought of what was still to be told.
He lifted his free hand and detached the other from her grasp. ‘Don’t tell me you still carried on with him?’
She supposed that he would doubt her sanity when he learned that she had gone on meeting Fergus in secret, and letting him make love to her, but she had to tell him everything now.
‘As I said already, that awful row happened on the day war was declared, and my mother ordered him out, but then she gave in and said he could stay till he found other digs. When I met him the next night, he told me he’d signed on for the army that day, and was leaving the following Monday.’
Their eyes met for a second, hers apologetic and ashamed, his sad and apprehensive, as if he wondered how much more he could take. She carried on with her confession, how Fergus had made his last night as a civilian a memorable one for her. ‘Jack and Tim had both told me not to trust Fergus, and even Granny warned me he was a bad lot, but I couldn’t help myself. As far as I knew, I’d never see him again, and I was broken-hearted.’
‘But you obviously did see him again?’
‘He came back after his training was finished. He’d written to Mum, pleading with her, and she felt sorry for him because he’d nowhere else to go. His parents had put him out years before, you see, though we didn’t know the truth about that until later. Well, I was very jealous because he’d written to her and not to me, but I couldn’t say anything to him in front of Mum.’
‘And was your mother still involved with him, too?’
‘No, she’d seen him for what he was, and knew he wasn’t to be trusted, but she trusted me, unfortunately. I went to meet him that last time, hoping he could explain away all my doubts, even though I knew, deep down, that they were well-founded. But when I saw him sitting on that bench, smiling as if nothing had happened, I didn’t want his excuses . . . I don’t know, something snapped inside me, Glynn. I’d seen through him at last, and I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me so many times.’ Renee shook her head, as if to dispel the memories of the terrible things they had said to each other.
Glynn moved his feet, and rubbed his numb leg to restore his circulation. ‘Did it all end there?’
‘Oh, yes. He must have realised he’d never be able to manipulate me again, and it was horrible. He shouted that no matter who I married, or made love with, he’d always remember that he’d been first, and so would I. His last words were, ‘‘I swear to you, Renee, that every time anyone makes love to you on a Monday, you’ll remember I was the first.’’ I never let a man ever get anywhere near making love to me again, Glynn, truly . . . not even you.’
She looked up sadly. ‘Fergus hasn’t crossed my mind for years, and I did want you to make love to me the night you tried, but I was afraid you’d lose your respect for me afterwards.’
There was a lengthy silence, during which the young bride was afraid to say anything more. She knew
that her husband was struggling with his own emotions, but would he turn to her in a minute and enfold her in his arms and murmur words of forgiveness and understanding, or would he turn away from her in disgust at her obsession with a worthless philanderer who had made her a puppet following his every command? Worse still, would he show his anger by walking out on her on their wedding night?
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, for fear of what she might see on his face, and turned her attention to the room, seeing it properly for the first time. The dark wardrobe and dressing table, not part of the same suite but close enough; the cracked wash-hand basin; the faded carpet with a few indeterminate stains; the green curtains, striped with almost white vertical bands where the sun had bleached them when they were open. Everything was clean, but impersonal. What a barren place for such a poignant drama! She drew a deep breath, a shuddering, body-wracking breath, and let it out in slow, difficult stages. Glynn had been silent too long. He couldn’t forgive her, and she would have to accept that their marriage was over before it had begun.
The sound seemed to jolt him into consciousness. He turned his body a little towards her, still not touching her, and looked at her sorrowfully. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this before?’ It was almost a whisper, but it conveyed the full extent of his misery.
‘Glynn, I couldn’t! I was ashamed of what I’d done. I wanted to pretend it had never happened, and I thought you’d despise me for being so gullible and . . .’ Her voice faded away, and she looked at him, pleading with him to understand.
His eyes dropped, the black sweep of his lashes against his cheeks emphasising his pitiful pallor. ‘Renee,’ he said slowly, deliberately, ‘if he were to come back, after the war, would you . . . fall under his spell again and . . . ?’
She sat straight up then, outraged that he could think such a thing. ‘No, Glynn! I never want to see him again. Never! I stopped loving him . . . I think it really was when I saw him with that other girl, making love in the very same place as he’d been with me.’
Monday Girl Page 28
