She had seen his bare chest dozens of times on the way to America, and marvelled at his broad, muscular shoulders and the slimness of his waist, but as she got the undershirt off him she saw he had a vivid scar on his shoulder and down his side.
‘You’ve been wounded!’ she exclaimed, touching it gently. It was far more extensive than the one Jimmy had, but she wished she hadn’t been reminded of him now.
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘As a young boy I always wanted a fearsome scar. I thought it would make me look tough.’
’You look tough enough without that,’ she said, running one finger over it.
He pulled her back to him, silencing her with a kiss and running his fingers through her hair.
Belle stopped hearing the sound of soldiers laughing and talking down in the café, she didn’t notice day turn to night, and she didn’t care what trouble she might bring down on herself for this one night of bliss. Etienne’s scar was a poignant reminder of what he’d said earlier, that there were no guarantees of surviving this war. It had never crossed Belle’s mind that either she or Miranda would lose their lives, yet her friend was gone now, and although Jimmy and Etienne were more likely to fall in combat than she was to die in some freak accident too, she couldn’t be certain.
All she was sure of was that fate had stepped in and brought Etienne back to her. There had to be a good reason for that. She had loved him at sixteen. He’d been the one who enabled her to get beyond what she had been subjected to after she was abducted, and he gave her the strength and determination to cope with all that New Orleans threw at her.
Two years on from that time, he was the one who rescued her from Pascal in Paris and he’d sat by her bedside as she recovered. The rest of the world might think she was just another faithless married woman who gave in to the temptation of taking a lover because she was far from home and lonely, but to her Etienne had first claim on her heart.
Each caress, kiss, stroke and murmured endearment swept her up higher and higher to ecstasy. He was in no hurry to enter her and seemed only to think of her pleasure, lapping at her until she cried out as she climaxed and begged him to come inside her.
Long, slow thrusts into her followed until they were both dripping with perspiration, such tenderness one minute, then ferocity the next. She came again and in the throes of bliss she wasn’t even aware that he had withdrawn from her. When she felt the stickiness on her belly she realized that even in his own passion he was thinking of her and not risking a pregnancy.
‘My beautiful English rose,’ he said as he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her, and gently wiped the tears from her face. ‘That was all I ever dreamed of and more.’
‘If only,’ she said, more tears springing to her eyes.
He put one finger, which smelled of her, on her lips. ‘Don’t say that. We must just believe that as fate brought us together again, it has more plans for us. I love you, Belle, not just for tonight but for ever. Love always finds a way.’
‘Are you going back to the front?’ she asked.
‘Yes, very soon. But I will write to you, and I will come to you when I can. Will you keep faith that one day this war will be over and we can be together?’
‘Yes, because I love you.’ It wasn’t the time to speak of the obstacles that would prevent it. ‘And I think it’s time I repaid all that pleasure you gave me, something to keep you awake in the trenches.’
She played with him then with her mouth and tongue. Each time he tried to pleasure her she slapped his hands away and continued working on him until he gave in and accepted this was just for him.
Memories of Martha’s in New Orleans came back to her as she heard his moans of pleasure. When she was first told she had to take a man’s sex in her mouth she thought it the most disgusting thing she’d ever heard of. And it had remained something she would avoid. But there was nothing repellent about doing it to Etienne, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She felt pleasure herself at pleasing him so much.
It was just before six and raining again when he dropped her back at the hospital. She had her working clothes on and a clean overall, her dress in her bag so she could go straight to her ambulance. Her lips felt swollen from kissing, she was sore down below, tired through lack of sleep, and heavy-hearted because she had no idea when she’d see him again.
‘Take this and keep it safe,’ he said, pressing a piece of paper into her hands. ‘It’s addresses where I can be contacted if something unexpected happens to you, or I can’t get to you here.’
She glanced at it: his regiment details, and an address in Marseille and one in Paris. ‘I will try to write better in English,’ he said with a sad smile, and wound a strand of her hair around his finger. ‘But if I fail to make a good job of it, remember that I love you, and that I’d go through fire, flood and any peril to be with you.’
Belle could feel tears welling up. ‘Keep safe for me,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘But if you should be wounded, ask that they bring you here.’
‘I have every reason to keep safe now,’ he said, leaning to kiss her one last time. ‘Now go, I don’t want you getting into trouble.’
Belle stood for a moment or two watching him drive away. Suddenly the enormity of what she’d done came crashing down on her. How would she ever be able to face Jimmy again? Why had she given into temptation? Was one night of passion worth the guilt she was now going to be forced to live with?
Vera came up to Belle as she was starting up her ambulance. David had gone into the store room to collect some more blankets. ‘Sally was a bit nasty after you’d gone last night,’ Vera whispered. ‘She thought it was Will you’d gone off with, and she said it was time you let him stand on his own feet. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t Will, so don’t let on otherwise if she says anything to you.’
Belle looked at Vera in horror. ‘She thought I was with him all night?’
Vera half smiled. ‘No, she and the others were all in bed asleep by nine, so they don’t know you didn’t come back. I got up before they woke this morning, ruffled up your bed and unlocked the door.’
‘Thank heavens for that,’ Belle exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t bear them to think I’d snatched Miranda’s man. I feel bad enough already.’
Vera took her hand and squeezed it in understanding. ‘You may have been a bit feckless,’ she said soothingly, ‘but not bad. You’ve reached out for a bit of comfort, that’s all.’
Belle was touched by her understanding. ‘Thank you for covering for me. I’ll try and explain it all to you later.’
By ten that morning Belle had completed three runs to the station. As hers had been the second ambulance to leave the hospital, the first run had been all sitting cases which were far easier than the stretcher cases. But the second and third were mainly Canadians, big, heavy men, all with terrible injuries.
‘You are very quiet and dreamy today,’ David remarked as they swabbed out the ambulance where one of the wounded had been sick. ‘Any special reason?’
The truth was that she had been reliving her night with Etienne, so much so that she felt herself grow hot and aroused again and wondered how long it would be before she saw him again.
She confided in David about most things; they’d become good friends even before Miranda’s death, but that had drawn them closer still. However, she couldn’t confide in him about Etienne – he would be horrified at a married woman with a husband at the front meeting another man.
It was only then that she fully appreciated her situation. Jimmy was a good man, and he loved her. It was going to break his heart if she told him she wanted to leave him. And if she did, she would lose Mog too, as Mog couldn’t take her side when she was married to Garth.
‘It’s just the same old thing, dwelling too much on the casualties of war,’ she said quickly. ‘Life is very precarious, isn’t it?’
‘Have you heard from your husband since you wrote to him about Miranda?’ he asked.
‘No, nor from Mog and Garth either,’ she said. ‘I keep wondering if Mog went to Miranda’s funeral. Mrs Forbes-Alton would have made sure the whole world knew about it, and Mog must’ve been very shocked that I didn’t come home for it. Of course I explained why in my letter, but I doubt she got that in time.’
‘Let’s hope she didn’t lay into Mog with that stuff about you being responsible,’ David said. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say of anyone.’
‘Maybe Mrs Forbes-Alton is unhappily married,’ Belle suggested. ‘I suppose that could turn you sour.’
‘Yes, I think so. I had an aunt who was a real dragon to everyone and I found out eventually that she hadn’t been allowed to marry the man she loved. The man she was pushed into marrying was a decent sort, but spineless. That was what made her such a bully.
‘I often wonder how some of the wives of the very badly wounded men cope when their husbands get home,’ he went on. ‘However happy they were before he was wounded, living on only a small pension with a man who needs constant care could become a living nightmare.’
Those words pulled Belle up sharply. Etienne had spoken as if they would be able to find a way to be together. Was he hoping that Jimmy would be killed?
Chapter Eighteen
A few days after her night with Etienne, Belle went into the mail room before starting work to see if there were any letters for her. When she was passed one, her heart leapt, thinking it was from Etienne. Her disappointment on seeing Jimmy’s familiar writing on the envelope was quickly followed by deep shame that she should react that way.
‘My dearest love,’ she read.
I am so sorry to hear about Miranda. I can hardly believe that she should have been taken in such a tragic and preventable accident. Terrible that you witnessed it too, seeing a friend killed is a hundred times worse than hearing about their death later.
I wish that I had been there to hold you and comfort you, you must have felt, and are probably still feeling, so very alone. I was furious at her mother saying you weren’t welcome at the funeral. What sort of a mother can she be to deny her daughter’s best friend the chance to say her last goodbyes? But don’t grieve about it, sweetheart, bear in mind that Mog will send the story all around Blackheath and it will reveal Mrs Forbes-Alton to be the heartless witch everyone always suspected.
I feel so sorry for Will too. I know if I was to lose you then I’d have no reason to carry on. If you should see him again, give him our address and maybe when the war is over he could come and stay for a while. You could show him Miranda’s favourite places. It might help him in his loss to be able to picture where she came from, what her life was like before the war. Though it would be prudent not to introduce him to her mother!
As for me, I am bearing up, though the constant rain in an already swampy area hardly bodes well for the big offensive we are waiting for. We haven’t been told yet what’s planned, there are rumours that Haig has made too many blunders, and that General Plumer will take over. Whether that will prove better for us soldiers remains to be seen. Our mob has been lucky for some time, no front line stint, but I think by the training we’re getting now this is going to end soon. We’re all sick and tired of this place, how many more battles will there be over a few hundred yards of land? We’re sick and tired of the mud, filth and destruction, not to mention the loss of life. If only there was some way of knowing when it will all end! To me it doesn’t look as if we’re getting anywhere. The Boche don’t show any sign of flagging, and they’ve got concrete bunkers so they are better protected and more comfortable than us.
But here I am grumbling when you have to deal with the end result of all this madness. God willing it can’t be much longer. I dream all the time of being at home again with you, of clean clothes, hot baths, walks in Greenwich Park, a pint of beer, and no more gunfire. I did ask if I could have some leave to come and see you, but it was refused. They said maybe in the autumn, but that seems such a long way off.
Mog said in her last letter that your letters to her and Garth are very short now. I suppose that’s because you have to work so hard. I know she wishes you’d pack it in and go home, she misses you so much. Maybe now without Miranda for company you’ll want that too. I know I’d much rather you were safe at home.
You said in the letter before the one about Miranda that there were a lot of Canadians in the hospital. I’ve met quite a few here. They did really well gaining Vimy Ridge, they are good, brave men. If the Americans are half as good maybe we can polish the Boche off by Christmas and all come home. But then we’ve been hoping for that for three years now.
A million kisses,
Your everloving Jimmy
Belle wiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand. The letter said everything about what Jimmy was, a kind, loving man who cared more about others than himself. He hadn’t said exactly where he was because of the censor, in fact it was surprising he dared mention Haig and Plumer, but his description of the conditions told her he was near Ypres; she knew from those who had been wounded there that they were atrocious.
Ever since the night with Etienne she’d been in a kind of bubble which prevented her from thinking too deeply about the future. Somehow she’d just allowed herself to believe that some kind of miracle would happen so she wouldn’t have to make a choice between the two men.
But now with Jimmy’s letter in her hand she knew she’d been burying her head in the sand. What on earth was she going to do? If he was to turn up here any time she knew she wouldn’t be able to face him. It would kill him if he found out she’d been unfaithful, and he had done nothing to deserve it.
She would feel justified if he’d been neglectful, if he’d been a drunk or a wife beater. She did love him too. That hadn’t stopped because of Etienne, yet surely it wasn’t possible to love two men at the same time?
‘Bad news?’ David asked.
Belle was a bit taken aback by the question. She hadn’t seen or heard David coming towards her, and she guessed he’d been watching her as she read her letter and dried her eyes.
‘No, not bad news, Jimmy’s letters always make me feel weepy,’ she said hastily. ‘It’s so long since I last saw him, and I get to thinking it will all be so different between us when the war ends. We aren’t the same people any more.’
David put his arm around her shoulders, and gave her a half hug in sympathy. ‘At least you’ve been over here too; you understand what it’s been like for him. That’s got to give you a better chance than those with wives who’ve been at home throughout.’
‘Perhaps,’ she sighed. She folded the letter up and put it in her overall pocket. ‘We’d best get going now.’
They had gone some distance down the road towards the station when David spoke again. ‘There’s something troubling you, I can feel it. You can tell me. I won’t say a word to anyone.’
Belle tried to smile. David was another good man, never grumpy, always reliable and loyal. He was also very intuitive, so she knew she had to say something which would stop him probing. ‘I’ve just been floored by Miranda’s death. I’m all right one minute, then down the next. I’m tempted to pack up and go home.’
‘You can’t do that! What would I do without you?’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m called a lucky bugger because I work with the prettiest girl in the whole hospital; it’s really good for my ego.’
Belle laughed despite herself. ‘You could ask to be paired with Vera, she’s a lovely girl and unattached too.’
‘Now there’s a thought!’ he grinned. ‘But it’s more likely they’ll stick me with Sally, and she’s so posh she scares me. Did I ever tell you about the driver I was with before you? He was an American know-all who complained the whole time, by the name of Buck. I couldn’t stand him. Luckily he buggered off just as my patience was running out. But speaking of Vera, I was talking to her last night, and she won’t want you to go either. She said that getting to know you was one of the best things about coming here.’
Belle was t
ouched by that; she liked Vera too. She was sunny, warm and often very funny. She had no side to her, in fact Belle often had to explain Sally’s snobby remarks because Vera had been brought up in a classless society and had no experience of that side of Englishness. Vera had understood Belle’s dilemma with Etienne and Jimmy, neither approving nor disapproving. She said in her usual calm and rational way that she believed Belle had only turned to Etienne for comfort after Miranda’s death, and that she mustn’t do or say anything in haste as she was likely to regret it later.
The following morning a brief letter came from Etienne. He just said that he’d moved up. He couldn’t tell her where to, and he hadn’t mentioned whether his regiment was in reserve or at the front line. ‘I just want you to know you are in my thoughts constantly,’ he wrote. He was right about his written English being bad; he used the right words but mostly couldn’t spell them correctly.
I am hurting because I know I have put you in an impossible situation. Sometimes I think I should not have come to see you because now I am here, with so many Tommies close by, I feel ashamed of myself for wanting another man’s wife.
Yet that hasn’t stopped me making plans in my head. One which seemed perfect, though now I see as only desperation on my part, was that you should disappear from the hospital and go to my place in Marseille to wait for me. How could I suggest such a thing? You would lose all those you hold dear, and they would grieve for you again, just as they did when you disappeared before. I couldn’t find happiness by causing so much pain to others, and you would never be able to forgive yourself.
The Promise Page 26
