Love for a Soldier
Page 28
‘Captain Marsh be out, miss.’
Sophia understood that and her face fell.
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Say thirty minutes,’ said Simon.
‘Please?’
‘He’ll be back in thirty minutes, I reckon,’ said Simon, finally recognizing he needed to explain himself a little better.
‘Oh, yes.’ Sophia smiled. Its radiance poured over Simon. He grinned very shyly. ‘I will wait, may I, please? I wish to.’
Simon shuffled his feet and nodded.
‘You be right welcome,’ he said.
Sophia had a thought.
‘Please,’ she said, ‘how wrong is that motor?’ She pointed to the car standing beside her own. It was a battered black Sunbeam.
‘Ah, that be Mr Martin’s little tiddler. Be his plugs again, I reckon. They dirty up fast.’
‘Plugs?’ Sophia had caught that. ‘The spark plugs?’
‘I reckon,’ said Simon.
Sophia’s eyes gleamed. Excitement rushed to displace palpitations.
‘I may look?’ she said.
‘Miss?’ Simon gaped.
‘Thank you,’ said Sophia.
‘You be Swedish?’ ventured Simon.
Sophia took the plunge.
‘I am German,’ she said.
‘Ah.’ Simon ruffled his dark mop. ‘Well, miss, it be a real pleasure to meet you.’ He gave her another shy grin and returned to his fire.
What had he said? Sophia thought from the smile he had given her that his words could not have been unfriendly.
She entered the garage workshop. She looked around. The young apprentice mechanic saw her and gaped.
‘Oh, by tiddly gum,’ he said.
‘If you please, that,’ said Sophia, smiling and pointing. Quivering, mesmerized, the lad handed her the plug spanner. Numbly, he watched her as she lifted a faded brown working coat from its hook and went back into the sunlight.
She had her hat off, the scarf covering her hair and the working coat on. The bonnet of the Sunbeam was up. Two plugs were dirty and needed cleaning, two were cracked and needed replacing. The awestruck apprentice gave her two new ones, while mumbling a hope that it wouldn’t get him the sack. Sophia, not understanding a word, gave him a warm smile of thanks.
She worked while she waited. She was excited, apprehensive and nervous.
Thirty minutes, how long was thirty minutes if not another lifetime?
She heard him just as she had all four plugs tightly fitted. She heard his footsteps. That is, she heard footsteps which she was sure were his. A feeling almost akin to panic took hold of her. She could only pray he had not found someone else, and that their reunion would be one of instant reconciliation.
The footsteps stopped. Her every limb began to shake.
Hidden by the lifted bonnet, she slipped off the working coat and the scarf. Her gloves were ruined, but she had had to sacrifice some part of her chic look to let him see what she wanted to share with him. She fought her nerves and straightened up. She saw him as her head came above the bonnet. He was there, on the other side of the car. He was wearing an old tweed cap, an open-necked shirt and knockabout brown cord trousers. He was brown-faced and alive. Seeing her, he at once looked stunned and incredulous. Her heart hammered. She had to speak French. Her English would be totally inadequate. Be positive. Even if you are shaking to death, be positive. Elissa had been emphatic about that.
She drew a deep breath.
Quite lightly, she said, ‘It was the sparking plugs – two were no good at all – I’ve had to fit new ones.’
‘Oh, my God,’ he said, transfixed by disbelief.
‘Darling, I’m quite good with cars, you know. I would have come before, but my mother burned your letters. Shall I start the engine?’
‘Sophia? Are you real?’
Sophia smiled. Tiny specks of golden summer dust danced in the soft air, and her face was drenched with light.
‘Darling, of course I’m real. You’re pleased to see me, aren’t you?’ Her voice became a little throaty. ‘I shall be very upset if you aren’t. I came so that I could be a help to you with your business, and to ask you why you told your family it was the sentry who shot you.’
Peter Marsh was still groping.
‘The sentry?’ he said.
‘Yes. Why didn’t you tell them I was the one?’
He came to.
‘Because, in the first place, it wasn’t important. What did it matter whether it was you or the sentry? You both belonged to Germany. Secondly, I had the future in mind. I didn’t want people constantly pointing me out as the man who was shot by his wife.’
‘Wife?’ Sophia felt her limbs were melting.
‘Yes. I never gave up that hope. With that in mind, it was better to say the sentry shot me. Otherwise, you and I would have been forever explaining. Can’t you imagine how tiresome that would have been? Have things been bad in Germany, Sophia?’
‘Yes. And especially bad for me. Because of you, and thinking I’d killed you.’
‘However much it may upset your mother, will you tell her I’m going to marry you? You’ll not get away, Sophia, not now you’re here.’
She said huskily, ‘It’s beautiful here, where you live, isn’t it?’
‘Not as beautiful as you are.’
‘Look.’ She stripped off her ruined gloves, dropped them to the ground and put out her hands. ‘Look how I’m shaking.’
He laughed. She rushed around the car and fell into his arms. She clung feverishly. He held her. Every trauma slipped away and she felt engulfed by peace.
‘Will you say yes, Sophia, or must I run off with you again?’
She lifted her face, her moist eyes shining. She smiled.
‘Darling, you don’t think I’ve come all this way to be a sister to you, do you?’ She pressed closer, oblivious to everything except the gift of warm and wonderful life. ‘Isn’t it heavenly, our motor garage and Monsieur Simon Tukes and the forge – oh, I can’t understand a word he says, but you will teach me English, won’t you? Where is our cottage, where is the home where we are going to love each other?’
‘Just a ten minutes’ walk. Sophia –’
‘Oh,’ she said breathlessly, ‘you stayed alive for me – thank you, thank you.’
‘Shall we talk or find a place where I can kiss you?’
‘You can kiss me here,’ said Sophia positively.
THE END
About the Author
Mary Jane Staples was born, bred and educated in Walworth, and is the author of many bestselling novels including the ever-popular cockney sagas featuring the Adams family.
Also by Mary Jane Staples
The Adams Books
DOWN LAMBETH WAY
OUR EMILY
KING OF CAMBERWELL
ON MOTHER BROWN’S DOORSTEP
A FAMILY AFFAIR
MISSING PERSON
PRIDE OF WALWORTH
ECHOES OF YESTERDAY
THE YOUNG ONES
THE CAMBERWELL RAID
THE LAST SUMMER
THE FAMILY AT WAR
FIRE OVER LONDON
CHURCHILL’S PEOPLE
BRIGHT DAY, DARK NIGHT
TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY
THE WAY AHEAD
YEAR OF VICTORY
THE HOMECOMING
SONS AND DAUGHTERS
APPOINTMENT AT THE PALACE
CHANGING TIMES
SPREADING WINGS
FAMILY FORTUNES
A GIRL NEXT DOOR
UPS AND DOWNS
OUT OF THE SHADOWS
A SIGN OF THE TIMES
THE SOLDIER’S GIRL
Other titles in order of publication
TWO FOR THREE FARTHINGS
THE LODGER
RISING SUMMER
THE PEARLY QUEEN
SERGEANT JOE
THE TRAP
THE GHOST OF WHITECHAPEL
ESCAPE TO LONDON
<
br /> THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
A WARTIME MARRIAGE
KATERINA’S SECRET
THE SUMMER DAY IS DONE
THE LONGEST WINTER
NATASHA’S DREAM
NURSE ANNA’S WAR
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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First published in Great Britain in 1985 by
Severn House Publishers Ltd as The Hostage
under the name Robert Tyler Stevens
This library edition edition published in
Great Britain in 2012 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Robert Tyler Stevens 1985
Mary Jane Staples has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781446497050
ISBN 9780593069462
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