by Gloria Cook
The horror of his appearance reflected on Louisa’s face greatly surpassed the surprise that Elena Killigrew had shown. ‘What on earth do you want? Couldn’t Faye make it here today?’
‘I…’ She was so like Ursula at that moment, Tristan lost his words. There wasn’t a strong physical resemblance, thank goodness, or people would have noticed it, but he, as Ursula’s husband, had been close enough to her to be aware of the little things, a twist of the features, a particular tiny lift of a hand, a certain unconscious flicker of eyelashes.
Louisa didn’t like the way he was staring at her. He was searching her. Seeking familiarity. A light shone from his eyes, a light misted by some sort of emotion. Did he have a hankering for her? It could be the reason why he had so inexplicably asked her to dance with him. Did she have reason to be afraid of him? If so, how would he react if he knew she had his late wife’s lover under her roof? She prayed Bruce, who was sleeping more and more, would remain quiet. Then she was scared, but not for herself. ‘Have you come to tell me Jonny’s been killed?’
‘No! Nothing like that. Jonny’s well, as far as I can possibly know. No, it’s this. I want some clothes.’
‘What?’ Had he gone mad? She began to close the door.
‘Please, don’t be alarmed.’ He felt the biggest fool. ‘Let me explain. It’s about some evacuees. Faye and I have been given the responsibility of taking care of three children. They’ve nothing but a few raggedy things to wear and they’ve nothing to play with. I went to Mrs Killigrew but she couldn’t help me. She suggested I try here. I hope you don’t mind. The children are in urgent need. Have you anything? For two little boys and a girl.’
This man was the last individual she wanted to pass over her threshold but she had no choice. Her expression as hard and as unfriendly as her tone, she muttered, ‘You’d better come in.’ In the hallway, she snapped, ‘What are their ages?’
Tristan stepped no more than an inch inside the door. Humiliation made his cheeks feel they were about to combust. He had treated Louisa coldly for years, and now, as during their last encounter at the dance, he was behaving in a peculiar manner. ‘Um, the boys, I—I think are about eight or nine, their sister a lot younger. Three years perhaps. They’re short and thin. They need shoes. I’m afraid I’ve no idea what size their feet are.’
Louisa was coolly unimpressed with the information. ‘I think I’d better phone Faye and ask for some details.’
All he could do was to nod in belittling compliance.
She walked to the other end of the polished tiled floor and with her back towards him engaged Faye in a brief call, making notes as she listened. She put the white, gilt-decorated receiver down. She gave Tristan the smallest glance. ‘I have to look through a few boxes. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
He acknowledged with a polite cough.
‘Would you like to come through?’ She pointed to the kitchen.
‘What? Oh, no, thank you. I’ll keep out of your way. Would you be kind enough to form some sort of parcel which I can carry across my back? There’s no basket on my bicycle.’
‘There’s no need to stay here as if out in the cold,’ she said in challenge, impatient with the whole thing, the bad feelings he had created, and now the confusion. ‘As you’ve made me feel all my life.’
‘Louisa, I’m sorry I came.’ He dithered on his feet, looking down. ‘If we could just get on, I’ll get out of your way.’
‘Give me a few minutes,’ she said tersely, her temper rising.
She came back shortly afterwards with a large parcel; due to the shortage of paper its wrapping was a baby’s shawl. ‘This should do to start the children off. When I’ve had time to look out some more things I’ll let Faye know. I’m sure you won’t want me turning up with them at Tremore.’ She pushed the parcel at him.
Tristan put his hands on it. ‘Louisa…’
She did not relinquish her hold. ‘What? What can you possibly say to me, Tristan Harvey? What is it that you have against me? I used to think you were afraid that Jonny and I would get together, but you were just as hostile when I married David. I bet you hate it that I’m seeing Tom. Do you think I’m not good enough for him?’
‘Of course you are,’ he said lamely, tugging on the parcel to gain it from her.
‘Then explain to me why you hate me!’ She let go of the parcel, hurried past him, and leaned her back against the door. He wasn’t escaping yet. ‘For years I’ve pondered on the reason for your beastly attitude. There’s one possibility. I demand to be told! Do you know who my parents are?’
Caught by the worst question she could ask, Tristan’s shame at hurting her turned to defensive anger. He needed to escape her beautiful, accusing eyes. Ursula’s eyes. ‘I know nothing about you!’
‘But you do! You must.’ Fury made her birthmark glow a dark red. ‘You’ve always been known as a kind and generous man, except where I’m concerned. Do I remind you of someone, is that it?’
She had no idea how near the truth she was. ‘No! Look, this is ridiculous.’ He had to think of a way out of this, something, anything! ‘I—I… Louisa, just forget that I was ever uncivil to you. The last war left me with some strange emotional wounds. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve been cruel to you. Can’t we make a fresh start? Be friends? After all, if you and Tom marry, you’ll become my niece.’
‘And you wouldn’t mind that?’ She examined him closely.
‘No. Not at all.’
‘I don’t believe you. As far as I’m concerned we’re back to square one,’ she spat. ‘Because I’m adopted and undoubtedly from a disadvantaged background, you didn’t think I was ever good enough to be Jonny’s friend. Who the hell do you think you are?’ Flinging her hand wide, she slapped him hard across the face. Before he could recover from teetering steps, she swung the door open. ‘Get out of my house!’
Tristan found himself on the other side of the door, his face stinging, eyes smarting, the parcel dangling precariously in his grip. ‘Bloody hell,’ he uttered under his breath. The repercussions of Ursula’s affair and the local adoption of her baby were still going on. Louisa would never try to be civil to him again, and Tom, Faye and Emilia would want to know why. And so would Jonny.
* * *
Tom joined Jill in the dugout, the place she had taken to slipping off to when seeking total privacy. She was sitting in the pitch blackness on a camp bed, the clues to her whereabouts the glow of her cigarette and her light perfume.
‘You’ve had a heck of a day,’ he said in understatement.
‘I was expecting something but not that.’
‘It’s tough on you.’
‘Tough? That’s hardly the word for it.’
He joined her, smoking, his long legs trying to find enough space to spread out. ‘You talked to Lottie and Mum. S’pose all the usual things have been said. Anything I can do?’
‘You already have just by being here. I’ll get over it. The hurt isn’t quite as unbearable as it might have been, because all the respect I had for him has been swept away. He was my first love, my first, naive love. Would you like to know exactly what the letter says?’
‘If you’d like to share it with me.’
By the light of a small torch she produced Mrs Trenear’s letter. ‘Dear Jill, I must apologize that news of my son has been a long time coming to you. I can only say how very ashamed Mr Trenear and I are of his behaviour. He came home on leave today and I mentioned you to him. He confessed that you and he were closer than we were led to believe and that he had even given you an engagement ring. You know Ronnie’s sweet nature, but he’s also a bit of a dreamer. He likes you, Jill, but anything more, he says, was a mistake on his part. All he wants to do is get through the war, get his degree and concentrate on being a scientist. He just couldn’t raise the courage to tell you, he didn’t know how to put things right, so it’s been left to me to perform this sad duty and inform you of his real feelings. I’m so very sorry. I hate to ask, but the ring was once my grandmo
ther’s – I had no idea he’d taken it – could you please send it back to me? You have mine and Mr Trenear’s wishes for a happy and deserving future. Once again please accept my apologies. Ronnie’s too. Yours sincerely, Mrs Ethel Trenear.' She had read the words in a disbelieving monotone. ‘Well, what do you think of that?’
‘The chap’s a bloody coward. He’s been cruel. You’re well out of it, Jill.’ Tom moved in and gave her a resounding kiss on the cheek. ‘How can anyone treat such a lovely girl like you like that? Well, you’ve got all of us now. Will you send the ring back?’
‘It’s already packed to be posted tomorrow, with his photograph. I just want to forget the whole humiliating thing. It’s better than losing Ronnie in the war, I could never wish him any harm.’
‘And I suppose you’ll forgive him in time. You and Louisa are two of a kind. I’m damned lucky to have you both. I know you’ve got Lottie looking out for you, but never forget there’s always me too.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘That was a lovely meal but I should have taken you out somewhere, darling,’ Tom said across Louisa’s dining table. ‘St Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a special occasion for lovers.’
‘It has been special. We can go out on the town next year.’ Through the rosy-orangey glow of twin candles in ceramic candlesticks, Louisa gazed at him hopefully. She hoped she and Tom would be on the same terms in twelve months’ time. Tom had remained loyal to her for four months, the longest time he had ever shown interest in a woman, but she fretted that despite the loving things he often said that he’d tire of her and go back to his old ways. She had engineered this evening alone with him, suggesting to Ada that she spend the evening with her family. She had begged a little extra steak off the butcher and opened the bottle of champagne she’d been keeping for when or if peace was proclaimed. She was wearing her loveliest dinner dress, made seductive by taking in extra nips at the waist and lowering the neckline. It hadn’t mattered Tom had arrived in sweater and sports jacket. She was trying to provoke some form of commitment from him. It was she who had first mentioned that this was the most romantic day of the year, and she took heart at his reply. ‘We can be just as close here.’
‘Of course we can. We could slip out for a drink but I don’t suppose you want to leave Mr Ash unattended.’
‘I’d better not.’ Wild horses or even Tom wouldn’t drag her away from her duty.
While she was on her feet stacking the dishes, Tom encircled her waist from behind and kissed her neck. ‘That’s what I admire about you so much, the way you care about others. How is the invalid?’ Louisa had allowed him to speak briefly to her guest a couple of times. On the second occasion the mysterious Mr Ash been much the same as on the first, polite but virtually uncommunicative.
‘He’s very slowly going downhill. I’m hoping he will get through to spring.’ Bruce was hoping the weather would be warm enough soon, so he could visit Ursula’s grave at least one more time. She wanted to say, ‘I’ve been in love with you, Tom, since the first time we were together. You don’t say it back very often. Just how do you feel about me?’
‘I’ll help you do that,’ he said, joining in clumsily, making cutlery slide noisily off plates. He wasn’t allowed to touch a thing in this way at home; Tilda didn’t approve of men doing ‘women’s work’, and her decisions regarding domestic issues were sacrosanct. ‘The washing-up can be left till tomorrow, can’t it? I want you all to myself before Mr Ash needs something.’
‘All right,’ Louisa said. She had put two hot-water bottles in her bed. Tom sought to make love as often as possible. She enjoyed his passion. He had great knowledge and endurance. He was always mindful of her needs. He never failed to give her the utmost pleasure. With so many people at the farm and Ada living here, times for intimacy usually had to be kept brief and Tom used every minute for loving. Afterwards, if he spoke at all, it would be to mention the farm or someone from it. She longed for just one occasion when they could just lie in each other’s arms and discuss themselves. She wanted him to open up his mind to her, to find out what the chances were for something permanent. As wonderful as it was – and she found him irresistible – their continued familiarity went against her nature. His family were undoubtedly aware of their closeness, and Ada, although an innocent where men were concerned, was careful with her expression, obviously uncomfortable, after Tom had been here, so she also knew. Afraid of their affair becoming public knowledge, afraid that she would feel herself to be cheap, she was determined to press Tom over his intentions soon.
When the dishes were piled up on the draining board in the kitchen, she said, ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? Nate gave me a jar of Nescafé.’
‘S’pose you’ve had chocolates too.’ Tom’s tone was disapproving.
‘You’re a one to talk about someone giving out luxuries,’ she joked, reaching for the kettle. ‘You get lots of goodies off Nate’s friend, Herv. Has Nate done something to upset you?’
‘Not specifically. I was hoping his friendship with Lottie would fizzle out. Goodness knows where it’s going. He makes every endeavour to endear himself to the family and our friends. Now the danger to our shipping has been lessened with the U-boats practically knocked out, the invasion of our troops on Europe is getting ever closer. The county’s bursting at the seams with our own men and even more of Nate’s countrymen; travel in and out of it is getting ever more difficult. I’m worried about Lottie. Perry reminds him to behave himself and he says he wouldn’t dream of compromising Lottie. A strange sort of fellow, if you ask me, if he’s serious about a girl and happy keeping himself to himself.’ Lounging against the display dresser, he sipped his coffee. ‘He could be playing crafty, biding his time. But what if Lottie gets carried away and something happens anyway? What if he goes off leaving her heartbroken, or worse still, pregnant? Faye finds the gossiping hard but she doesn’t seem to worry too much that she hasn’t got her baby’s father with her, but it wouldn’t be the same for Lottie. She’s besotted with Nate. She was heartbroken he couldn’t join us for Christmas because all the Americans were put on a blanket operation. She ought to take note from Jill, who’s suffering over her chap’s deception. I’ve got worries enough about Mum with her going way past her due date. I suppose you’re going to tell me I’m probably worrying over nothing.’
Louisa was gazing down into her cup, watching the black liquid swirl. She was smarting about the talk turning to his family. One or more of them, or Jill, was always there inside his head, in between them. When she had told Tom about her spat with his uncle, he’d shrugged and said, ‘Well, Uncle Tris has always been like that with you.’ It seemed he was taking her for granted.
She said, thin-lipped, sitting at the table. ‘No. I think Lottie’s romance is really none of your business.’
‘What?’ Tom dumped his cup down and threw out his hands. ‘Lou, how can you say that? Lottie’s my little sister. It’s my place to protect her.’
‘Lottie is a woman. She’s shrewd and level-headed. I can’t see her doing anything she shouldn’t. She’s not the sort to get swept away. And she has your mother and Perry and your grandfather to look out for her.’
Louisa was refusing to look at him; instead her gaze was aimed above the rim of her cup. He went to her, and with his hands splayed out on the table he leaned towards her. ‘You said that as if you’re jealous of Lottie.’
‘Perhaps I am. I was hoping this would be a special evening for us.’ She met his eyes.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He smiled in the way that made her love him, want to lose herself in him. Bringing his face close, he kissed her lips. She closed her eyes and he kissed the lids. His mouth was so warm, so strong, so gentle. He moved in on her and brought her to her feet. Drew her body against his. With one arm around her, the other hand spread along her face, his forefinger caressing behind her ear, he kissed her with ardour. Then he took her hand. ‘Let’s go to somewhere more comfortable.’
He was going to take her u
pstairs. Sometimes he carried her all the way to the top. Sometimes he stopped on a stair and started making love to her there. He’d stir her, fluster her, drive her wild, or keep her simmering, teasing her, tormenting her. He never failed to bring her to triumph.
All the way along the passage he kissed her, opening her lips up to his, probing inside her mouth, tasting her; a connoisseur of love. He stopped and eased her against the wall. He wasn’t going to transport her any further. He couldn’t wait. He was going to have her here. He began a fiercer round of kissing. Slumped against the wall, she kept her eyes closed, her lips parted, waiting, longing for him, sighing for him.
He eased back a little. He was gazing at her. A new look was written on him.
Tom was in awe, in wonder. He’d been so since he’d first held and touched her in the man-to-woman way. He couldn’t get over this sudden turn in his life. Louisa. She’d been his playfellow, a soft, shy little girl, worried constantly about her birthmark. In later years he’d found her as someone he was fond of, whom he respected. Always, he had felt duty-bound to defend her, cherish her, she the epitome of decency, honour and fragile womanhood. Their first kiss had shattered him. The turbulent response he had invoked in her had stretched his imagination beyond its limits, all his preconceived ideas had disintegrated as she had given all of herself to him, satisfying him in ways he’d never believed of her.
‘What is it, Tom?’ Louisa said, clearing her throat of its huskiness. Now he’d stopped, she felt vulnerable with some of her clothes hiked up, some of them pulled down. Quickly, she regained her modesty.
‘We ought to think about getting engaged or something.’ His desire had not lessened and he closed in on her again, aiming his mouth at hers.
Louisa shifted her head to the side. It had been a vague proposal and nothing at all like the romantic declaration of love and hopes of marriage, delivered with a desperate pleading, from David. She was left feeling flat and somehow offended. ‘Let’s go back to the dining room.’
