by Rosie Clarke
Our lips met in a passionate kiss. It was a lightning bolt from the sky. Not for us sweet content. We were tearing off each other’s clothes in our urgency, panting, gasping as the shudders of delight ran through us.
Jack’s body was lean, hard, honed to a masculine beauty I had not seen before. He was a young pagan god, and I his goddess. We had no religion but love, the love we shared that night in Jack’s bed. There in my lover’s arms I discovered all the pleasures I had never experienced with any man before him.
He had all Richard’s virility and strength but without the brutality. He was tender, patient, inventive and yet arrogantly male. He claimed me, possessed me, made me his, and I adored him for it. I wanted nothing more than to lie in his arms my whole life long.
For those sweet stolen hours we spent together there was only Jack. I knew then that the feeling I had for him was very special. There are many kinds of love: the love of a mother for her child is also special, but that night I discovered something I knew I would never find again. I might love again, but this … completeness … would never come with anyone else.
I had known content with Jon, and a kind of slow, gentle happiness, but my love for him had been a pale shadow of what I felt now. Jon had been good to me. He was there when I needed a friend … he was my friend.
Suddenly I saw how true that was. Jon had always been my loving friend. I had married him because I was afraid of losing his friendship. I had never been in love with him.
The threat of war looming over us had made me rush my decision. I had meant to wait. After Richard’s death and the realization that what I had felt for my first lover, Paul Greenslade, was merely a naive young girl’s infatuation, I had meant to wait until I was certain, but the fear that Jon might die had made me promise to marry him.
Yet it had not been a mistake, no never that. We had been happy together, and had it not been for this cruel war might be still. Many women married for less reason. Jon had loved me desperately and I loved him. Had he not been killed …
I did not believe I would have betrayed my husband if he had lived. I would never have allowed myself to think of Jack. Perhaps he would never have entered my world. Had there been no war, Jon and I might have lived in the country, content and safe in our own home.
Would I have been content to live that way for ever?
So many doubts to torture me!
Yet I did not feel them as I lay in Jack’s arms that night. No, they would return to haunt me one day, but not that night. For a time I thought only of him and the pleasure we both shared.
‘You are so lovely, Emma. I’ve thought of you this way. So many times. I hoped, knew we would be together one day. I’ll never let you go, my darling. You are mine now.’
I did not answer him, except to press myself against the warmth of his body. There was nothing to say. I had learned never to take too much for granted. Life had a habit of knocking down your dreams. Jack was here at this moment. Neither of us knew where he would be the next week or month.
‘Don’t make promises, Jack,’ I whispered. ‘We won’t promise each other anything; we won’t ask too much. The gods punish us if we are too greedy. Let’s take what we can tonight and forget tomorrow …’
‘Foolish, Emma,’ Jack murmured against my throat. The touch of his mouth sent the trickles of desire running through me once more. ‘You need have no fear for me. I’m indestructible. Like a bad penny. I always turn up whether you want me to or not …’
‘Oh, Jack …’ The emotion caught my throat as I clung to him. I wanted so much all the things he had promised would be ours. ‘Jack hold me … hold me for ever …’
He laughed, confident, arrogant, sure of himself and his ability to win no matter what. Yet I felt his own urgent need as he took me once more. Even Jack could not be sure he would return from the war that was so soon to swallow him up.
And so we made love again and again, as if our hunger for each other could never be slaked.
Jack spent Christmas Day with us. He brought extravagant presents for all of us, but especially for me. Fine, delicate stockings, good perfume, make up, confectionery, all the things it was becoming impossible to find in England – and a beautiful diamond pendant set in a white gold mount that was shaped like a heart.
‘Jack,’ I said when we were private for a moment. ‘This is far too expensive, too much for me to accept.’
‘It’s a trinket,’ he said. ‘One day I’ll give you real diamonds.’ He smiled as I looked doubtful. ‘Don’t frown, Emma. You look guilty, as if you thought you were doing something wrong. You do have the right to happiness, you know.’
‘Yes, of course I do. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to … it’s beautiful and I’m a fool. I love it, Jack. And I love you, more than you know.’
‘We are going to have so much fun together,’ he said as he drew me close. ‘There’s a big wide world out there, Emma. I want to share it with you. I want to show you what life is all about.’
All I thought of as he kissed me was how good it felt to be in his arms. Jack’s world did sound exciting, and I longed to be a part of it, but being held like this meant so much more. I clung to him, knowing I had to make the most of every moment we had together.
Yet there were others to claim our attention. James was really enjoying his toys this year. Sol and Margaret had given him so many lovely things: soft animals he could cuddle, a spinning top, building bricks, a music box and a kaleidoscope were just a few of the toys he was given that day to add to the growing collection in the nursery.
Jack had bought him a bright red pedal car. It was the sort of toy only the very rich gave to their children, and as I watched my son playing with his things I felt oddly afraid. James was in danger of having too much too soon.
Yet how could I think that? All my friends loved both James and me. They gave freely out of their love for us – so how could that be a bad thing?
It couldn’t of course, and I was a fool to let even the smallest cloud spoil our perfect day.
My mother telephoned just after three that afternoon.
‘Are you having a nice day, Emma?’
‘Yes, thank you, Mum. Are you?’
‘Oh yes. There’s just me and Bert, but we had a good dinner. Bert is having forty winks in the chair now. Thank you for that lovely cardigan, Emma, and all the other things. I don’t know how you manage to get hold of stuff the way you do.’
‘I’ve got friends in high places,’ I joked. ‘Most of it comes through Jack, Mum. I’m not sure how he does it, but he seems to be able to get hold of almost anything.’
‘Is Jack with you today?’
‘Yes … Yes, he’s here.’
She was silent for a moment, then, ‘You sound different, Emma. Is there something I should know?’
‘There might be … one day. I don’t want to talk about it yet, Mum. Jack will be going away soon. America is in the war now. I can’t think about the future, not until this is all over.’
‘But you’re happier than you were. I can hear it in your voice.’
‘Yes. At the moment I am very happy.’
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I had better go or Bert will tell me I am costing him a fortune.’
‘You know he doesn’t care,’ I said and laughed. ‘James loved the clown you sent him, Mum, and the blouse you made for me is exactly what I need to go with my best costume. Give my love to Bert, won’t you?’
‘You’ll be down to sort out the shop soon,’ she said. ‘We’ll talk properly then.’
I smiled as I replaced the receiver and went back to join the others. They were nodding over a glass of sherry and listening to music on the radio.
James went to bed at seven that evening. Afterwards, Jack and I slipped away. We spent the night in his apartment, holding each other, whispering words of love … making love.
Jack cooked bacon and mushrooms the next morning. It was only when we had eaten and it was time for me to leave that he told me
he was going away that afternoon.
I felt the dread strike into my heart. Was I going to lose him so soon? I had hoped for a few more days, a few more weeks, before he had to go.
‘Do you have to leave so soon?’
‘If I don’t take this opportunity it may be weeks before I can get back,’ Jack said. He brushed a wisp of hair away that had stuck to my cheek. ‘You know I don’t want to leave you here, my darling, but you wouldn’t come with me if I asked, would you?’
‘No … I couldn’t, Jack. Not yet. Not until the war is over and things are more settled. It would feel wrong … as if I had abandoned everyone.’
‘That’s what I expected you to say.’ Jack smiled and kissed my forehead. ‘It’s the way I feel too. My country is in this war now, Emma. Americans are going to be killed – and I have to do what I can. I’ve been offered a commission, and I intend to take it.’
‘But what difference will one man make? Surely you can do so much more in other ways, Jack?’
‘I doubt if I’ll see much combat,’ he said, but I knew he was lying to comfort me. ‘I expect they will make use of my talents in other ways. I’m very good at planning and moving things. I dare say I’ll be at headquarters most of the time, looking after the logistics of the thing.’
‘Honestly?’ I gazed up at him, wanting to be convinced. ‘Is that a promise, Jack?’
‘If you’re asking me to promise I’ll come back, the answer is I’ll do my damnedest, Emma.’
‘When?’ I demanded, knowing I was being unfair to ask such questions but not caring. ‘Tell me, Jack – is there any chance of you coming back to London before the war is over?’
‘I don’t know. I would be lying if I pretended otherwise.’ He looked rueful. ‘I’m sorry. I shan’t be a free agent any more, Emma. If there’s a chance, I’ll take it, believe me, but I can’t promise.’
‘I just wondered …’ I took a deep breath. ‘We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t go on too long …’
‘The tide will turn in our favour before long,’ Jack said, and put his arms around me. ‘You’ll see, my darling. Things will start to get better soon. I promise …’
Chapter 8
‘I’ve talked to Sol,’ I said to Sheila. It was three days after Jack’s departure, three nights of holding back the tears, of suppressing my fear and my loneliness. I had come down to March on the train, to help my friend sort out the details of giving up her lease. ‘Sol will be very pleased to have you working in the showroom. If you want to come, he can probably find you accommodation near Portobello Road.’
‘I’ve got somewhere to live,’ she said, turning away to move something on the shelf. ‘My cousin lives in London, not far off the Portobello, somewhere around Kensington. Annie will look after my little Lizzy while I’m at work. She has got three children of her own so she can’t work and the rent I pay her will help her.’
‘That sounds a sensible arrangement,’ I said, a little surprised but pleased that her cousin should live in one of the nicer parts of London. ‘It seems as if things will work out for the best, Sheila.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She looked doubtful, slightly resentful as she turned to me. ‘I wanted to make a go of it here, Emma. I feel I’ve let myself down – and you.’
‘I’ve told you it won’t affect me. My aunt will probably come and live here. I haven’t spoken to Gwen yet, but I think she will agree. If she doesn’t, then I shall have to find someone else to run the place – but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘You won’t sell then?’
‘No, I don’t think so. When I went to London, I just wanted to close the door on the past. I couldn’t wait to get away, but things look different now. I’ve learned to live with my memories. Besides, after the war life will get back to normal, Sheila. My father had a good business here, and I think it could be made to work again.’
‘Yes, you will make a better job of it than I could.’
Sheila sounded bitter. I knew she was disappointed, and I felt unable to help. What could I say or do that would make up for the loss of both her husband and her dreams?
‘I know it’s hard,’ I said at last. ‘I know how difficult it has been for you. If you want to try again, Sheila, I might be able to lend you some money …’
‘No!’ She was quite determined. ‘No, I’ve made up my mind. I’ve had enough of being stuck here. I want to be where there’s a bit of life going on. Besides, people hate me here. You don’t know what they’re like, Emma. Your father was always respected. People looked up to him – they resented my being here. They wouldn’t give me a chance. It wasn’t so bad while Eric was here, but after he … well, everything went wrong. People stopped coming in, and they insinuated things. They were just waiting for me to fall flat on my face – and now they’ve got their way. I hope they’re satisfied!’
‘Oh, Sheila …’
I looked at her sadly. I wasn’t sure how much of what she was saying was true and how much was in her mind. Surely people hadn’t been that unkind? Yet my mother had suggested something similar. And it was true that Harold Robinson had always been respected. It had meant a great deal to him – so much that he had forced me into an unhappy marriage to save his good name.
That was all over! I hardly ever thought about Richard or my childhood now. All those things had happened to a different Emma. The Emma who had lived and worked in this shop.
It looked very much changed these days. Eric had put up a lot of extra shelves and racks to hold his wine stock. Even though there wasn’t much of that left. I wondered if Gwen had an objection to strong drink. If she did, we might get rid of what there was and go back to what we had always sold.
‘It isn’t your fault,’ Sheila said, coming out of her mood suddenly. her eyes gleamed and she was more like the girl I had known before I went to London. ‘I shall be glad to get away and start again. Who knows? In London I might meet a rich man who will keep me in comfort for the rest of my life.’
‘Yes, you might,’ I said. ‘It happens sometimes, and if it doesn’t, you can keep working for us. One day I would like to have a dress shop in London, Sheila. There will always be a job for you if I’m around.’
‘Thanks.’ She lit a cigarette, drawing the smoke in and exhaling it through her nostrils. ‘I needed that. I smoke far more than I ever did. Being here amongst all this stuff has led me into bad ways, Emma. It’s a good thing I’m getting out, making a fresh start somewhere else.’
‘So when are you leaving exactly?’
‘In the morning. I’ll drop the keys off with your mother. You can pick them up from her – or your aunt can.’ Sheila’s red mouth screwed up with resentment. ‘She’s welcome to all this. I can’t wait to leave.’
I was sorry that she was so bitter, but there was nothing more I could do for the moment. When she was living in London we would be able to see more of each other, then perhaps I could help her to find a new life for herself and her child.
‘Mother wanted you to have these,’ Gwen said, setting down the cardboard box on the desk in the study. ‘It’s just letters she kept from your father, some photographs and a couple of her personal things – a silver compact and an ivory fan. I’m not sure you would really want them, but she made me promise to give them to you, Emma.’
‘I’m very grateful to you for bringing them all this way. What are you going to do with all the rest of her things?’
‘Pack them into trunks and have them stored for the time being I suppose. I’m not sure yet where I shall settle … or what kind of work I can manage. I suppose they want women in the factories – or am I too old? I thought you might know …’
She was trying not to look anxious, but I knew how worried she must be. It was hard to start working for a living after so many years of being at home.
‘Would you consider living in Father’s old shop, Gwen? Or rather in the rooms above …’ I smiled as she stared at me. ‘My tenant has just moved out. I was rather ho
ping you might consider running the shop for me …’
‘You mean serve behind the counter?’
‘Yes. You would have to reorder the stock when we run out, and keep the accounts – I could show you, Gwen. It’s quite simple. I can go through them with you when I come down and explain anything that worries you.’ She hadn’t spoken and I thought perhaps she disliked the idea. ‘If you would rather not, you could still use the rooms and look for work in March …’
She looked at me then, and I saw the sudden leap of excitement in her eyes. ‘You mean you would really trust me to look after things for you, Emma? I would be in charge … of everything?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll take you down and go through it all with you, of course, but afterwards – it would be up to you.’
‘I could do just what I liked – arrange things the way I want? Choose what we sell?’ She started to laugh as I nodded. ‘And you’re going to pay me for doing that?’
‘Yes, of course. I thought three pounds a week to start, and your accommodation. Once things are up and running, perhaps a share of the profits at the end of the year.’
‘My wage will be enough,’ she said decisively. ‘I’ve never had so much freedom in my life, Emma. After I’ve settled everything, I’ll have a few pounds over, and with my wage and no rent to pay … all I can say is thank you. For your help – and for believing in me. That means more than all the rest.’
‘I’m just glad you’re going to take the shop over,’ I said. ‘I might have had to sell if you hadn’t agreed, and I doubt I would have got anything like its worth at the moment.’ I looked at her anxiously. ‘You aren’t doing it just to please me?’
‘Good gracious, no! I would tell you if I didn’t think it would suit me, Emma. Believe me, this is exactly what I want. I’ve always thought it would be nice to work in a little shop.’
‘Sheila’s husband had a licence to sell alcohol, but we can give that up, Gwen. I should need to apply for a new licence anyway. How do you feel about selling wines and spirits?’
