by Rosie Harris
And, later, after a drink at the Spread Eagle pub, they would wander through the nearby churchyard, where proud peacocks strutted amongst the graves, or into the surrounding woods where pigeons cooed mournfully.
Their love for each other deepened daily. Often they would walk for miles, fingers linked, without exchanging a single word. It was almost as if they could communicate through the pores of their skin and the air they breathed. Occasionally, for no reason at all, except their need of even closer contact, they would pause, turn towards each other and kiss.
So great was her happiness that Helen would have liked things to go on in the same way for ever. She had never felt so content, so enveloped in an aura of love. Each day her passion seemed to heighten, a huge radiant ball inside her mind, bathing the world around her in a golden haze.
The morning Adam reported, not for duty, but to see the Medical Officer, Helen felt tense and nervous as she helped on the wards. She wanted his arm to be better but she feared that as soon as he was fit for normal duties they would see much less of each other. He might even be posted, or sent overseas.
She was hanging about in the corridor outside the MO’s office when Adam came out, flexing his fingers and stretching and bending his arm.
‘Better?’
‘One hundred per cent!’ He grinned.
‘Does that mean you’ll be back on regular duties?’ she asked anxiously.
‘More than likely.’ His face clouded, ‘I’ll know tomorrow. I’ve got the rest of today free though, so can you get away?’
She nodded eagerly. ‘I’ve already told my mother I’d be taking the rest of the day off,’ she said, untying her overall as she spoke.
‘I bet you’ve even planned where we’re going,’ he joked, his blue eyes creasing with laughter.
‘Fordswater. It’s a lovely spot and within walking distance. There’s a stream there, so we can paddle!’
‘Sounds great!’
‘I’ve even packed a picnic!’ She smiled triumphantly.
‘Then let’s go.’
It was one of the hottest days of the summer. But by the time they’d eaten the sandwiches and apples Helen had packed, the sky had darkened, as mountainous black clouds, which had been hovering on the horizon, began to gather overhead.
‘Come on, we’d better make a run for it,’ Adam said, as dull rumblings of thunder filled the air.
They were only halfway across the field when the storm broke. Torrential rain soaked them, moulding Helen’s thin, cotton dress to her body.
‘There’s a barn at the far end of this field,’ she panted. ‘We can shelter there until the worst is over.’
The barn was dark, but dry – redolent of the new-mown hay stored there.
‘You’d better take off that wet dress,’ Adam suggested, ‘otherwise you’ll end up with pneumonia.’
‘You’re soaked as well!’ She laughed, pushing strands of dripping hair out of her eyes.
‘Yes, that’s true. And this uniform smells rank when it starts to dry out,’ he added as he peeled off his battledress top and shook it vigorously before spreading it out to dry. ‘Look,’ he went on, as he undid the buttons on his shirt and began to remove it, ‘take your dress off and slip this on while it dries out.’
‘What are you going to wear?’
‘I won’t hurt without a shirt; it’s not cold.’
‘If you’re feeling shy, I’ll go and stand by the door while you change,’ he offered.
‘What it lacks in length, it certainly makes up for in width!’ Helen giggled as she slipped his shirt over her head and wrapped the rough khaki flannel round her.
The look on Adam’s face as he turned round, confirmed her suspicions that she looked ridiculous.
‘If you laugh, I’ll take it off,’ she warned.
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Well, I would – only I’ve practically nothing on underneath.’ Her cheeks flared as he raised an eyebrow.
‘Come and sit here until your dress is dry. It shouldn’t take long,’ he said, as he settled himself comfortably on a bale of straw.
The hay was prickly, but not as itchy as Adam’s shirt. Helen fidgeted so much that in the end Adam unfastened the front buttons of the shirt, easing the scratchy fabric away from her body.
‘Is that any better?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The touch of his fingers against her bare skin was electrifying. She could feel her pulse racing and was sure that he must be able to hear the pounding of her heart.
Trembling, she looked up and was immediately daunted by the naked desire in Adam’s eyes.
‘Helen,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘my sweet Helen.’
Fear and ardour mingled within her. She longed to reach up and pull his dark, tousled head down onto her breast. An inner caution warned her that to do so might be foolhardy. The turmoil of her feelings raged every bit as fiercely as the storm outside.
A sudden violent crash of thunder, that seemed to be immediately overhead, made Helen cry out. It seemed to be a signal for Adam to hold her closer, as if to shield her from the storm.
He moved so suddenly the shirt fell open. For a long moment, neither of them spoke or moved. He stared, as if transfixed, at the exposed, pearly-white flesh of her body and she felt powerless to cover her nakedness. Then, with a groan, he lowered his head and she felt the imprint of his burning lips on her cool skin.
Gently, but thoroughly, he began to explore her panting body with his lips. She murmured with pleasure as his lips focused on the delicate pink nipples of her firm, pointed breasts, and he gently teased them erect, before moving down the length of her body.
She lay back on the soft bed of hay, every nerve-end tingling as she succumbed to the magic of his hands as they stroked and probed.
When he raised himself on one elbow and began removing his trousers, she tried to protest, but his mouth came down over her lips, silencing her in its own special way.
Gradually, she relaxed. Her breathing became more even and a warm glow suffused her limbs. She made no resistance as she felt his naked body cover her own.
For a moment they lay quite still, savouring the fusion of their flesh. Trembling, she moved one hand slowly over his broad shoulders and on down to his slim waist.
Suddenly he seized her other hand, dragging it downwards until it brushed against something hard. Firmly he wrapped her fingers around his erection and the throbbing that met her touch made her breath quicken.
Heat surged through her, as he forced her thighs apart and his probing fingers entered her body. As his hand created a rhythm, her senses stirred and, she felt herself straining towards him. Then he was guiding her, letting her be the one to make the final commitment.
There was a moment of searing pain when she thought the hugeness of him would rip her in two. But then the pain was gone and ripples of mounting tension made her body heave and contort, fusing with his movements until they both reached a passionate frenzy. The culminating crescendo of sweetness left her clinging to him breathlessly, trembling and exhausted.
The storm was over, and the sun was shining again from a placid blue sky as they left the barn. Words deserted them as, hand in hand, they hurried back to Sturbury. When they reached the Guard Room at Bulpitts, they found the duty-driver waiting impatiently.
‘Sorry I’m late. We got caught out by the storm and had to shelter,’ Adam told him.
‘Hop in.’ The soldier ground out his cigarette and swung up into the cab.
There was no time for any kind of farewell. Helen stood in the driveway, waving, as the truck vanished in a scattering of gravel and a cloud of dust.
Chapter 6
The war raged on. Although most of the major cities and towns as far north as Liverpool and Humberside had been devastated, people remained undaunted. Their fight went on, their energies directed on plans to invade Europe and eventually attack Germany itself. The first foothold had already been made in Sicily and it was r
umoured that the Eighth Army, under General Montgomery, planned to land at Salerno.
Even though rationing grew tighter and an increasing number of commodities became unobtainable – except on the black market – people were still cheerful and confident that the war would soon be over.
Most able-bodied men were now in the services and many of the younger women had volunteered, or were being called up. Everyone claimed that once the Eighth Army was established in southern Europe, the invasion of France would follow.
Even in Sturbury, talk seemed to focus on this one topic, with everyone speculating about the possible date. Nothing else seemed to matter. Even when Helen’s exam results arrived, Dr Price managed little more than a perfunctory acknowledgement.
‘At least university will keep you out of the Forces for two or three years,’ Mrs Price said with relief.
‘By then this dreadful war may be over,’ Dr Price agreed gloomily.
‘Until term starts you can go on helping at Bulpitts,’ Mrs Price went on. ‘Heaven knows we need every pair of hands we can find – the place is overflowing with wounded men. If casualties go on at this rate they’ll have to put up some temporary huts. It’s impossible to squeeze any more into the house, and they’ve even put some beds out in the corridors.’
‘You’re working that girl too hard,’ Dr Price warned his wife, when Helen left the room. ‘She looks absolutely washed-out.’
Mrs Price was forced to agree. She, too, had noticed the dark circles under Helen’s eyes, accentuated by the paleness of her cheeks.
‘I keep telling her to take a day off and get some rest, but she’s become almost fanatical about work,’ she told her husband. ‘I don’t think she’s sleeping well; probably too exhausted to unwind when she gets to bed. Someone has to go to Mere tomorrow for a fresh supply of drugs, so perhaps I’ll send her. At least it will be a day away from the wards.’
She didn’t want to worry her husband, but she was sure it was more than just tiredness; she suspected Helen was in love. She’d noticed a change in her ever since Adam Woodley, the young soldier Helen had become so attached to, had left Bulpitts. Since then, Helen had spent every day on the wards, refusing to take any time off. It was almost as if she was afraid to be away from the place.
Her behaviour was different, too. Although she laughed and joked with the patients and nurses it was only in a very superficial way. Her air of reserve was like a protective shield that divided her from everyone around her.
Helen accepted, with alacrity the suggestion that she should collect the medical supplies. There was always the chance that, since the Guards HQ was in Mere, she might get some news of Adam. It was now five weeks since their memorable day at Fordswater, and she hadn’t seen him once since then. She didn’t understand it. Surely he couldn’t have just dismissed it from his mind?
‘We’d better go, I don’t want to miss the duty truck,’ she said, pushing her plate to one side.
‘Finish your breakfast. There’s plenty of time,’ her mother told her.
‘I’ve had all I want.’
‘That’s your bacon ration for the week … surely you’re not going to waste it!’ Dr Price exclaimed.
‘Sorry, I just don’t feel like it.’
‘You do look rather washed-out,’ her mother said. ‘The change will do you good. Don’t rush back, have a look round the shops.’
‘All four of them?’ Helen said scornfully.
‘You still have those coupons Donald left you,’ her mother went on.
‘Well, I’m not likely to find very much in Mere to spend them on, now am I?’
‘No, you’re probably right!’ Mrs Price laughed. ‘We’ll both have to take a day off and go to Salisbury or Bath.’
‘I’m not in the mood for buying clothes,’ Helen said gloomily.
‘Then you must be ill,’ her father said in alarm.
‘We’ll have to fit in a shopping trip before you go to university,’ Mrs Price persisted. ‘I’m sure none of your winter stuff will fit you.’
‘I haven’t grown all that much,’ Helen muttered.
‘No, but you have put on some weight,’ her father said sharply. ‘Anyway a shopping trip will do your mother good, and get her away from that hospital for a bit.’
‘OK, but not today,’ Helen said quickly as she pushed back her chair and began to clear the table.
‘No, of course not. Today, it’s Mere for you and Bulpitts for me,’ Mrs Price said briskly.
The small grey-stone town was packed with soldiers and, after she had collected the medical supplies, Helen plucked up courage and went along to the Company HQ to see what she could find out about Adam Woodley.
‘Special friend, was he?’ the burly RSM asked her with a leering grin.
‘Just someone I knew,’ she said nervously. ‘I thought you might be able to tell me where he’s been posted.’
‘I can find out from Records … if it’s important.’
She sat reading some out-of-date magazines until he came back. ‘Afraid he’s on special duties,’ he said impassively. ‘He should be back in about two weeks time … that’s if we’re still here.’
She stared at him in dismay, then, seeing the avid curiosity on his florid face, pulled herself together.
‘Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.’
‘Anytime!’ He grinned knowingly. ‘Sure there’s no message you want to leave for him?’
As Helen ticked off the days to Adam’s return her worst fears were realised. At night, alone in her bedroom, she knew moments of sheer panic in case he didn’t come back to Mere. Suppose his unit was posted overseas? So many soldiers were being killed as the Allies struggled for supremacy that she might never see him again.
Several times she tried to talk to her father about the predicament she was in, but each time her courage failed her. She knew he would not only confirm her fears but hold Adam to blame, and she dreaded the row that would follow.
Her mother would be utterly devastated. She had no patience with girls who ‘got into trouble’. The blame was theirs she always contended. They only had to say ‘No!’.
To her shame, Helen knew she had never for one moment considered saying ‘No!’, but that would be very difficult to explain to either of her parents.
There was only one solution, for Adam to come back and for them to be married. Then she could tell them and it would be quite acceptable.
As she struggled to conceal her morning-sickness and the general feeling of being unwell, the hot August days dragged on. Helen was glad it was so busy at Bulpitts. She had less time to worry when she was working hard. And when her mother commented on her pallor and moodiness, she always had the excuse that she was tired.
Having made his pronouncement that Helen was working much too hard, Dr Price put the whole thing from his mind. Evacuees had almost doubled the number of patients on his list and without his chauffeur and gardener, or anyone to help in the surgery, he had far more than his fair share of work.
Helen pinned her hopes on the RSM’s assurance that Adam would be back in two weeks’ time, and began making discreet enquiries. One duty-driver promised to find out for her, but he was posted to another unit the very next day and she never saw him again.
‘If you’re looking for a date, I’m free tonight,’ his replacement laughingly told her when she asked if the other driver had left any message for her.
Helen turned away, biting her lower lip. His quick jibe stung her. He obviously thought she was free and easy with her favours. And that was what other people would think once the news broke, she thought bitterly. Yet it hadn’t been like that. Not for her, at any rate, though she was no longer quite so sure about Adam. Would he have gone away without a word for almost six weeks if he’d thought anything about her? Surely he could have written, even if it was only a postcard?
Each day she became more and more worried. Soon she would be forced to tell her mother. At night, as she undressed for bed, she studied hers
elf in the mirror. Already her waist seemed to be thickening and her breasts growing larger. The veins that had once been a mere blue tracery were now pronounced. The voluminous white overall she wore at Bulpitts hid her secret well, but soon she would have to spend some of the clothing coupons Donald had given her.
Whenever her mother started talking about her going to university, Helen quickly changed the subject, since she knew it was now quite out of the question. And yet, she mused, it could provide an alibi. If she could conceal her secret until the end of September, her parents need never find out that she was pregnant. She would let them think she had gone to university, but instead she would find a room somewhere and work until the baby was born.
The idea offered considerable scope and, for a time, she began to build her hopes around it. Then commonsense prevailed as the flaws became obvious. How could she possibly disappear and live her own life? She had no money to live on until she found a job. And when she didn’t register at university someone would be bound to make enquiries. And then there would be the letters from home. Her parents would be frantic with worry if they were returned unopened. Reluctantly, she abandoned the idea as being impracticable and tried to think of some other solution. She had pushed all thoughts of Adam so far to the back of her mind that when she found him waiting for her one evening as she left Bulpitts, she wondered if he were some sort of hallucination. She stared in disbelief as the tall, handsome figure began hurrying towards her, hands outstretched in greeting. As she looked up into the lean, square face she felt dazzled by the intense brilliance of his blue eyes and fainted.
Minutes later, when she came round, Adam was supporting her with one arm, frenziedly patting her cheek and calling her name.
‘Adam!’ Even to her own ears, her voice seemed a long way off.
‘Come on! What’s happening? I didn’t know I had that sort of effect on people!’ He grinned.
Tentatively she reached up and touched his cheek, outlining his familiar profile with her fingers, as if to make sure he wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
