Time Passes Time

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Time Passes Time Page 24

by Mary Wood


  Shocked for a moment, they pulled apart and stared at one another before the humour of the situation hit them and they burst out laughing.

  ‘Right, I’ll pay the taxi off and come in with you. We can get another one once you are happy all is well.’

  As they walked into the reception, the duty manager called her over. ‘There is a message for you, Miss Chesterton.’ Taking the envelope from him and slitting it open, she read the note from her mother.

  Sorry we couldn’t wait for you to come in, love. Patsy turned a corner and is a lot better. So much so that her doctor agreed to transfer her to the Leeds hospital. Not that Patsy was too pleased by that, though she saw the sense in it for the rest of us. She fears that those she will be working with will see far more of her than she would like, but Dad laughed at this and told her she should learn from the experience and take heed of how it feels to be a patient. That didn’t go down too well!

  Ian has stayed over and Patsy was glad of that. They are getting along much better, which is nice for Ian. Though Patsy was a bit grumpy that you hadn’t been back tonight. Don’t worry about that, though. I think she was feeling a bit jealous. For our part we hope you and Greg had a lovely evening, love, and you deserved the break.

  We are taking Lizzie back with us. She is very happy about that and felt up to making the journey, as she had slept since you had left her. We will stop for a few hours at a hotel somewhere en route, as that is better than making the journey all in one go. Dad managed to get the wheelchair to the station and it will be delivered by rail.

  If you can get up to the hospital by ten in the morning, love, that will be a help, as Patsy will need a hand and then you can follow the ambulance with Ian in his car. See you tomorrow sometime. Let us know when you arrive at Leeds hospital.

  Love, Mam. X

  Harri stared at the note. In it she saw the end of her time with Greg for goodness knew how long, and that she couldn’t bear.

  ‘Is it bad news, Harri?’

  ‘No, not really, but yet it is in a way. I have to return up north tomorrow.’

  He didn’t speak. His face told how he felt. After a moment he said, ‘Come on, then, darling. Let’s not waste a moment.’

  Lying in Greg’s arms, all fear of the stories she’d heard about the pain of a first time left her, and with it disappeared all the cold medical terminology that she’d learned about the process. This feeling that had taken her was a million miles from all of that, as Greg’s gentle foreplay heightened her desire to the point where she could have begged him to enter her. When he did, there was no more than a momentary resistance, but no pain. And when he finally fully immersed himself inside her, there was a feeling of being stretched, but it didn’t hurt and it quickly gave way to sensations that gripped the heart of her.

  Her whole being came alive and responded to his every thrust in a way that shocked her. Gone was any shyness or ignorance of what she should do or how she should react. Making love to Greg came as naturally as if they had been doing it for ever. Their bodies were one. They entwined one another. They drank in deep and beautiful kisses. They explored each other’s bodies with their hands and their lips, giving all of themselves in a frenzy of hungry love that enhanced all that she was.

  When feelings began to build on feelings, she knew she was ready to ride the crest of her first orgasm – to be taken to a place she couldn’t imagine. She gasped out her plea for him not to stop. She could feel the grip she had on him as she clung on with her arms and her legs, and the almost painful deep, plunging breaths as her body took the onslaught of sensations that had her arching her back to help them to build more and more. Then the moment came. The power of the first wave shocked her to her core, rocking her very being, but her hold on it seemed fragile as if it would slip away from her. She stiffened, holding herself rigid and begging Greg to be still. She heard her own voice holler out before drowning in a moan from Greg that seemed as if it came from his soul.

  Together they slumped into a place that held their release – a release that had drained them, and which left them exhausted. Relief mingled their heartbeats and coated them in the dampness of each other’s sweat.

  ‘Harri . . . Oh, Harri!’

  Her name sounded like a song set to the sweetest music. All she could do by way of answering him was to stroke his hair and look into his eyes, which she saw glistened with tears. One trickled over and ran down his cheek. She caught it with her thumb and licked the saltiness of it. ‘I love you, Greg.’

  His nose rubbed hers. She wanted to take hold of the promises his look held as he eased himself from her. Keeping her eyes on him, she knew she would never be the same again. Greg now owned the most vital part of her, and she had given him possession of it. In return she knew he was hers for ever, and nothing could ever part them.

  Twenty-two

  Escape

  Lizzie 1963 and Theresa 1943

  Lizzie’s sigh was one of contentment. Despite what had happened in the last week, her mind and body were at peace. She’d rested well at the hotel they’d stopped at, and they’d made good progress this morning. The journey had given them time to get to know one another, and had taken away any apprehension she’d had over the arrangement for her immediate future. She liked Sarah and Richard – they were easy to like. And best of all, they were always sensitive to what others were thinking. She hadn’t detected any feelings of resentment in them at having been put in a position of having to take her into their home. This had gone a long way to relax her, though she did still have some nerves as to how this new life would pan out for her.

  As they drove along a leafy lane, Richard said, ‘Nearly there. We live at the end of this road.’

  They were in the middle of nowhere with only trees and fields surrounding them. It would be strange to live in such a place, she thought, with no houses near, no flats, no noise or smog, and no shops! But something told her she’d get used to not being around those things. She’d more than landed on her feet. Rita’d said these were good people, and she hadn’t been wrong. Poor Rita. It seemed funny to think of her working around here. It didn’t suit her somehow. A city person through and through, she must have been a shock to the folk who lived around here. An embarrassment took her at this thought as she remembered what Rita had done to Sarah and her dad. ‘Sarah, I . . . well, I were just thinking about Rita, and I wanted to say I’m sorry about what she did. I’m not like her. I sometimes think it strange that we were born into the same family, though Ken took after her.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry about, love. Eeh, it were a bad time for us, but we’re healed – well, as healed as it is possible to be, so don’t you go worrying yourself. None of that will be held against you, and no one round here need know who you are. We’ll just say you were a friend of Patsy’s when she lived in London and you’ve come to have a break from the city.’

  ‘Life around here is a million miles from what you’re used to, Lizzie.’ Richard looked through the mirror at her as he said this. ‘Everyone will be curious and there will be gossip. In London everyone is a stranger to you, so I don’t expect you even think about them. To us, everyone is known, and those we don’t know are of great interest.’

  ‘Eeh, there’ll be some tongues wagging as to who you are and where you come from and how you fit in with our family . . . By, the place’ll be on fire with talk!’

  This banter helped to calm the unsettled feeling that had come with her thinking of Rita. But in another way it enhanced her nerves. Country folk were so different to any she’d ever known, and this gave her a trickle of trepidation as to whether she would fit in with them, or whether they would take to her. Being the subject of their gossip wasn’t a comfortable place to be.

  ‘Here we are, then. Eeh, home at last!’

  As Sarah said this, Richard swung the car into a drive and before her Lizzie saw the most beautiful house. The sight of it deepened her concerns. It was grander than anything she’d ever seen.

&n
bsp; It hadn’t just been the outside of the house that had been beautiful. Everything about it was like nothing Lizzie had ever seen. It wasn’t posh, but homely with soft colours everywhere, and though she could tell the furniture was expensive, it had that lived-in look about it. Here and there were signs of wear that only added to the whole feel of it being a family home. The kitchen was like she would imagine a farmhouse kitchen to be: a place where wellies could be kicked off and yet lovely baking was done on the range, which took up almost the whole of one wall, and family meals were eaten around the huge oak table in the centre. Oak beams were hung with pans of all sizes, and a string of onions draped down one beam that stood the length of the ceiling to the floor. The Welsh dresser, laden with pretty china, and the lovely yellow curtains dressing the window both enhanced the feeling that this was a home – a real country home. It welcomed her as if it had wrapped its arms around her, taking away her doubts and settling a happiness inside her that threatened to make her cry.

  Now she was in the room they had put aside for her. Between them they had lifted her, crossing their arms and holding each other’s hands to make a sort of chair lift for her. Their way of making this a giggle took any embarrassment from her, and they’d said that David, their other son, would be bringing her chair from the station later for her. He had done so not ten minutes later, and he’d made her laugh with his antics as he’d tried to unfold it. She liked him. He was easy to talk to, and again she didn’t get any vibes that he resented her intruding on his family. Then they’d all left her alone for a while, telling her to settle herself in and come out when she was ready.

  This room was everything Harri had said it was, with a wonderful view she could sit and gaze at for ever. After putting the few things away that she had from the case Rita had brought to the boat for her, she did just that.

  The beauty of it and all the kindness she’d been shown suddenly overwhelmed her as she looked out. Tears spilled from her. Her whole body cried in a way she’d never known. Her heart emptied itself of all the hurts, all the fears and the losses in painful sobs that shook her very roots.

  A knock on the door slowed the outpouring. ‘Eeh, love, I thought I heard you. Come on. It’s all going to be reet, I promise. I’ll fetch you a pot of tea, eh?’

  All she could do was nod.

  The tea helped. Sipping the hot liquid calmed her.

  ‘Look, why don’t you get into bed for an hour or so, love? You look done in, and there’s nowt spoiling. We haven’t heard yet from Harri and Ian, so we don’t know if they’ve arrived in Leeds or not.’

  Again, all she could do was nod. At this moment she could think of nothing better than getting between the sheets on the deep divan bed in the corner of the room.

  ‘I’ll fetch Richard to help.’

  ‘No, I can manage. I can get from my chair into bed on me own.’

  Sarah stayed while she did, helping her with her clothes and fetching a warm flannel for her to wipe her face. Although she didn’t like any fuss usually, it was all very welcome at this moment.

  ‘I can’t thank you enough, Sarah, for taking me in. I promise I won’t be a lot of trouble. I can do most things for meself But I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t offered me this, as the social wouldn’t have let me carry on on me own. Not that I could manage altogether, but the alternative scares me. The homes where they put people like me are not what I’d want.’

  ‘Well, you have no need to worry on that score, Lizzie. You are welcome here for as long as you need, you know that, love. Is there owt else that you want?’

  ‘I have some exercise books on the coffee table . . .’

  ‘Oh, yes. There you go.’ Sarah’s hand shook as she handed them over. ‘Does she . . . well, is there a mention . . . I mean, has Theresa Crompton told it all as it was?’

  ‘I think she has. She’s very honest about her life before the war, about her waywardness and stuff she did, but after Patsy was born she wanted to make up for it all. She loved Patsy, and had she had another way she wouldn’t have given her away.’

  ‘There’s alius another way. Did she say whether . . . still, there’s nowt to be gained by us going over it all. I’ll pop in in a little while and see if you’re okay.’

  ‘I know what you’re referring to. She does say. I’m sorry about all the hurt, Sarah. Yer didn’t deserve it.’

  ‘No, none of us did. Look, tell me. I can take it. I think I know, but it’s better to have the truth of it than to think on it.’

  ‘If you’re sure. I mean . . .’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure.’

  The bed sank as Sarah sat on the edge. Her face had paled. Lizzie had a feeling that she wasn’t really ready, even though she said she was.

  ‘I – I . . . well, it weren’t rape. Theresa made that up, and she told her dad that it was rape by a stranger while she was out riding. Your . . . I mean . . . Billy, well, he did hurt her. He punched and kicked—’

  Sarah’s gasp held pain.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said.’

  ‘Why? Why if it wasn’t rape did he hurt her?’

  ‘It . . . it were to do with her not wanting him to . . . Well, at the end . . .’

  ‘Oh, I see. She didn’t want any consequences of her actions. Eeh, poor lass . . . By, what am I saying? She asked for . . . No, that ain’t reet. No one asks for such treatment. I shouldn’t have said that. He were not right. Billy. He had a mental illness.’

  A tear ran down Sarah’s face. This shocked Lizzie. Surely she couldn’t still have any feeling for him?

  ‘I’m being silly. It’s the memory of it all. It was horrific, and in some ways I was to blame. I should have spoken out about his threats. They wouldn’t have let him free if I had, but I was so afraid.’

  She couldn’t say anything, as she didn’t know what Sarah was referring to. She knew Billy Armitage had been let out of a mental institution because of the war, and that Theresa had said in her memoirs that he must have duped those responsible for letting him out, but to think Sarah could have stopped his release was shocking. Surely she couldn’t mean that?

  ‘Anyroad, like I say, it’s no use going over it all now. It’s all done and dusted . . . Well, it’s done. But I doubt it will ever leave me.’

  With this she got up to leave, giving a nervous smile as she reached the door and saying, ‘Don’t worry about it all, love. I’ll cope. Even if them Cromptons come back into our lives, I’ll not let it affect me. I can’t. For Patsy’s sake, I can’t.’

  Once she’d gone, Lizzie let out a sigh. There was a lot of hurt in Sarah and she wondered if it would ever heal. She hoped so, because she didn’t like to think of her suffering like that. She didn’t deserve it.

  Snuggling back into the umpteen soft pillows, she felt tired, but overriding this was her need to find out how Theresa had escaped, as she surely must have done. As she opened the book she prayed, Please, God, don’t let her have been tortured.

  Theresa Takes her Chance – 1943

  The lorry rumbled on. Each bump or rut in the road increased Theresa’s discomfort, and yet the side-to-side motion lulled her a little. She closed her eyes. Marvelling at how her fear had levelled to a point where she could cope, she began to think of ways she could escape.

  From the count of feet it seemed there were only two Germans, and she’d already noted that the other prisoners numbered three. Why they were allowed on the bench while she was kept on the floor she didn’t know, but though her hands were tied, the position had some advantages.

  No one had spoken for a little while. At first the Germans had kept up a conversation and during it she’d heard mention of Camp du Struthof. This had intensified her fear as the camp was known as one that no one came out of. There were stories of gassing and the stories were that all dissidents taken there were tortured and then put to death. One of the soldiers had kicked her as they’d had this conversation and had laughed out loud at doing so, saying something she thoug
ht meant, ‘just the place for the likes of you, whore’. The only thing the camp had in their favour was that it was miles away to the east of France, and would take many hours to get there. Hours when there might just be a chance . . .

  The silence around her now and the fact the soldiers hadn’t kicked her for a while and their feet were still, suggested they may have nodded off. To test this, she wriggled her body. Nothing happened.

  A light from the vehicle following filtered through the canvas curtain that was pulled down over the back of the truck. Turning her head, she confirmed that both soldiers had their heads leaning forward. Looking the other way and craning her neck, she saw the same appeared to have happened with two of the prisoners, but not Philippe. He nodded his head towards his shoe.

  Another rut shook the lorry, rattling its sides. The noise gave her fear that the soldiers would wake, but they didn’t stir. The light danced from the floor to the roof of the vehicle and back. As it did, it glinted off the buckle of Philippe’s sandal. He moved his foot very slightly but enough for her to see something protruding from the leather strap and stretching in a taut line to the buckle. Wire! The thin strong wire they often used to lay traps with, but its thinness and strength also made it very sharp.

  Rolling on her side, she edged backwards towards Philippe. Her movements, slow and difficult, sweated her body and increased the depth and sound of her breathing. Feeling his sandal on her hands, she waited. His foot moved up and down against her hands. Tension held her almost suspended from life itself as he worked. Her eyes never left the two sleeping soldiers. Fear pumped her heart faster and faster until she could feel its beat against her ribs. Then her hands fell apart. She was free!

  Lying still for a moment, she watched the soldiers. Neither showed any signs of moving. Sitting up, she wriggled towards them. Stretching out her hand, her fingers touched the cold steel of the barrel of a rifle. The weight of the soldier’s hands held it upright. Grabbing it dislodged him. Turning in a movement that only took a split-second, she blasted the astonished face of its bearer, sending him out of this life. The other soldier jumped up. Making an apology, she pulled the trigger again. The place she hit, if it didn’t kill him, would render him unable to function as a man ever again. He hit the ground, landing on her legs, shoving him off she shot him in the head.

 

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