by June Tate
He looked at her, his eyes twinkling. ‘Yes, I think we do, unless you want to wear me out.’
‘That’s the last thing I want to do.’ She chuckled softly. ‘I want you to be fit and able to make love to me again and again before we have to go home.’
‘You are an insatiable woman!’
‘Are you complaining?’
He ruffled her hair. ‘Are you kidding!’
They walked along the promenade, went window shopping, and then found a cosy restaurant to have lunch. They chatted and laughed together, both enjoying the secrecy of their new intimacy. It was like being on a honeymoon, Rusty thought. She gazed into the eyes of her new lover and remembered how he looked when he was making love to her, his naked body thrusting himself inside her, murmuring to her, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her. She reached out to touch him and felt the sexual urgency once again coursing through her veins. As they finished their coffee, she reached out and took his hand. ‘Let’s go back to our room,’ she said softly.
Brad smiled at her, asked for the bill, paid it, then said quietly, ‘Let’s go.’
The weekend was the happiest that Rusty could ever remember. Brad was a perfect companion as well as a lover. They shared the same sense of humour. They swam, they went dancing, and they walked, talking and laughing together the whole time. Not a moment was wasted.
As they sat in the train on the way home, Brad glanced at the woman beside him, staring out of the window. How lovely she was, he thought. He sat picturing every curve of her body that he’d explored, remembering her little cries of pleasure as he made love to her. But he could also see her cooking his breakfast, being a permanent part of his life, and that made him happy . . . but with the war, he’d have to wait before making plans.
As she watched the passing scenery, Rusty knew that when the time came for Brad to be posted, she would be broken-hearted. This man was very special, and she felt so lucky to have been a small part of his life. If only things had been different. She felt she could spend the rest of her life with Brad Jackson and be the happiest woman alive. Meantime, she would just relish every moment they spent together and try not to think too far into the future.
Seven
The latest news of the war filtered through the camp housing the German prisoners, and they didn’t like what they heard. In August, the Americans bombed the Messerschmitt works at Regensburg, causing untold damage. For those dyed-in-the-wool Germans who believed in Hitler, it was devastating news; for young Gunter, it was further proof that the war was useless. He now believed that Germany would lose, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
It had been decided by the authorities that if they had to house these men and feed them, then they should earn their keep. Besides, such men with time on their hands could be trouble. With so many Englishmen called to serve in the armed forces, manpower was limited in many areas. Some of the prisoners were escorted to local farmers, who used them to work in the fields. Fields which had been turned into grounds for growing vegetables and corn, to help with the rationing. Others were helping to clear bomb sites – places which had been devastated during the blitz. It soon became the norm to see Germans working for their keep, watched over by armed soldiers.
Gunter had been lucky. He was sent to a small farm, to help the farmer with his cows and pigs, and was allowed to stay with the farmer’s family, on the understanding that if he tried to escape, the consequences would be dire.
He was only too happy to comply; anything to get out of the camp. He was able to tell Sarah where he was going, and when he confessed to Mrs Brown, the farmer’s wife, that he was in love with an English girl, she allowed Sarah to visit at weekends.
Mr and Mrs Brown took to Gunter, realizing that he was an educated man and not a Nazi. He worked well and was polite and soon became part of the family.
For Sarah, it was a perfect situation. If there was work to be done when she visited, she stepped in and helped too, which endeared her to the farmers, who were getting on in years. Their son, who would eventually inherit the farm, was away in the army.
Over a meal one Sunday, Mr Brown chuckled. ‘If Tim, our boy, knew we had a German working for us, he’d have a bloody fit!’
‘Not if he really knew Gunter,’ Sarah chipped in.
Mrs Brown looked fondly at her. ‘I can only hope that when this war is over, you and Gunter can meet under better circumstances.’ It worried the older woman that these two young people, who were so obviously in love, could face great heartache in the future. She wondered just what Sarah’s mother thought about the situation.
But Sarah hadn’t confided in her mother, knowing how hostile she had been about her daughter consorting with the enemy. Instead, she made excuses when she went to the farm, saying she was with a friend.
During Sunday evenings when all work was finished, Gunter and Sarah would climb into the loft of one of the barns so they could be alone. It was there one evening that Sarah lost her virginity. Being together without restraints of any kind had brought their love affair into the open, and they were able to kiss and cuddle without fear of reprisals, and eventually, their need for each other overcame constraint – and they made love.
As Gunter held her during their love-making, he spoke quietly to her in his own tongue – which didn’t bother Sarah, because the tone of his voice was so soft and full of love and passion – and she gave herself to him, willingly.
After, as she lay in Gunter’s arms, Sarah knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man and was determined that, no matter what, she would fight for the right.
Brad Jackson had been busy at headquarters and had only been to visit the stables a couple of times in the last few weeks, but he asked Beth if he could bring a young lady over the next weekend. She had immediately agreed, so he mentioned it to Rusty, warning her that they would have to work at the stables, mucking out, but after, they could go for a ride.
‘What, on a horse?’ she exclaimed. Horrified at the idea.
‘Of course on a horse.’ He looked at her scared expression. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give you a lesson first. You’ll be safe with me, I promise – oh, and wear a pair of slacks.’
She hadn’t been really convinced, but Rusty being Rusty, she never turned a new adventure down, and so on the following Sunday morning she drove to the stables with her captain.
Jenny and Chad were already working when they arrived. Brad introduced Rusty to them, and the four stopped for a chat. Rusty told them that she was decidedly nervous.
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Chad. ‘Captain Jackson knows what he’s doing.’
During the next hour, they cleaned several stables, put down new straw and filled water buckets, and then Brad saddled one of the quieter horses and helped Rusty to mount.
Once on the animal’s back, she looked down and said, ‘The ground is a hell of a long way away from up here, Brad.’
He put a lead rein on and, trying not to laugh, led the steed away to the practice ring. There he walked the horse around until Rusty began to relax, showing her how to grip with her knees, relax in the saddle and how to hold the reins. After a while she began to enjoy it.
He then told her to gently kick the animal with her heels. She did so and let out a scream as it broke into a trot. ‘Oh my God!’ she cried. ‘How do I stop it?’
‘Just relax! I’m on the other end of the rein. Enjoy it, Rusty.’
And eventually she did.
The workforce broke for a snack lunch and gathered beneath the trees. Brad took the horse back to the stable, and then he and Rusty joined them. He’d bought some decent white bread with him and, to everyone’s delight, some fresh cheese.
Jenny watched Rusty and Brad chatting away and immediately realized that there was something between them from the intimate looks they exchanged as they talked. She was pleased for Brad; their friendship had grown through their shared work, and she liked the quiet American.
Chad, sitting
beside her, also took note. ‘It seems as if the captain has found himself a girl,’ he remarked. ‘That’s how two people look at each other when they’re in love.’
Gazing at them, Jenny had to agree. ‘How marvellous, but what happens when Brad is shipped away, what then?’ She turned to Chad. ‘War breaks so many hearts one way or another.’
He took her hand. ‘Not necessarily so. It can also bring great happiness.’
She gazed at the man beside her and recognized the same expression in his eyes as in Brad’s. It confused her considerably. During the times she’d met Chad and seen his work she had at first been filled with admiration and awe, but as she grew to know him better, there had been an affinity with him and a physical attraction, which she’d tried to ignore. For one thing he must be at least ten years her junior – and she was married! She told herself that in any case he didn’t feel the same, but looking at him now, she knew that he did.
‘Come on, let’s saddle up a couple of horses and go for a ride, somewhere where we can be alone.’ He held out his hand to her, and she took it and stood up.
‘We’re going to exercise the horses,’ Chad told the others, and they walked away.
They rode for quite a while until they arrived deep inside a wood, where Chad reined in his horse, dismounted and tied the reins to a tree. He walked over to Jenny and did the same with her reins, then he waited.
She climbed down from her mount. Chad took a step towards her and took her into his arms. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this from the moment we met,’ he said . . . and he kissed her.
Jenny lost all her inhibitions when she felt his mouth on hers, demanding her complicity, which she willingly gave. Never had she felt this way, not even when Adam first took her into his arms, and as Chad led her to a clearing and pulled her down beside him, she gave vent to all the frustration that had built up inside her, surprised at the wanton feelings that flooded her being.
‘Oh, Jenny, Jenny,’ he murmured as he kissed her. ‘You are a wonderful woman, you have so much love in you that has been smothered for far too long.’
She scarcely heard him as she returned his ardour.
They made love beneath the trees in the quiet of the wood, surrounded by the nature that Chad held so dear to him. It seemed a fitting place for her to give herself to this extraordinary man, which she did with great abandon. Never before had she felt free, able to let go of her inhibitions – but with Chad, she was a different person. It was almost like being reborn, and she relished every moment.
After, they lay replete in each other’s arms.
Chad gently caught hold of her face and turned it towards him until she was looking at him. ‘What are you thinking right this minute?’
‘I’m thinking that we have made a lot of trouble for ourselves,’ she said quietly, ‘but I don’t regret a minute of it.’
‘Things have a way of working out, honey,’ he said. ‘We just have to live for the moment – the future will take care of itself. Come along, we best get back before they send out the posse.’
Brad was called away to another camp for a few days, and Rusty returned to her way of life. After all, she had to make a living, and in her mind her world and her love affair with the handsome officer were two separate entities. As long as he didn’t find out how she earned her living everything would be fine.
She was sitting in the Horse and Groom in East Street with one of her friends, a place she didn’t often frequent as it was the roughest pub in Southampton with a history to match. Most Saturday evenings there was a fight and the police would be called. There’d even been a stabbing and a fatality in recent months, but her friend, another prostitute, worked out of this bar.
It was early in the evening and the bar was quiet, which gave the girls time to chat. They looked up as two GIs walked in. The men strolled to the bar, looked round and seeing the girls asked them if they would like a drink. Before Rusty could say a word, her friend had invited them over.
The soldiers were good company and plied the girls with drink before they got down to business. Rusty eyed the one she would be taking home. Joe was a well-built man, quieter than his friend, but he seemed pleasant enough as they walked down Canal Walk to her bedsit.
Once inside her room he looked around and then at her. ‘At least it’s clean,’ he said and started to undress.
Rusty stopped him. ‘Money first, Joe.’ She told him how much, and he pulled out his wallet and paid her. As she took her clothes off, Rusty started chatting to him, but he wasn’t interested in the niceties.
‘I didn’t come here to talk!’ he snapped. ‘That’s not what I paid for. Lie down!’
Rusty felt her blood run cold, and warning bells started ringing inside her head, but before she could say a word, the American pulled her on to the bed and held her down. Everything he did was brutal. He held her by the throat, and he pawed at her body, clasping her breast in a vice-like grip which made her cry out with pain. When she complained, he hit her. She struggled against his brute force, to no avail. He hit her again, and she lay still.
The next thirty minutes she thought would be her last as he violated her body. During this time he was silent, which in itself was menacing and terrifying. He took her in various positions, turning her this way and that like a rag doll, until eventually he was satisfied. He then got off the bed, got dressed and, with only a look of disdain cast in her direction, he walked out of the door.
Rusty was unable to move for a while. It seemed to her that every part of her body hurt. She moaned as she tried to get up. She tasted blood from her lip where he’d hit her. As she put her hand to her mouth she could feel the swelling. Tears of anger trickled down her cheeks. ‘Bastard!’ she cried as she crawled off the bed.
She walked over to the sink in the corner and ran the cold tap, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was now beginning to swell, and she soaked a flannel in the cold water and held it over her face to try and stem the swelling. Putting a dressing gown on she took her toiletries and staggered to the bathroom down the hall, which was shared by the other tenants, and ran a bath. She tried to scrub away every vestige of the brute who had used her so cruelly. As she soaked in the water, she began to cry.
Eight
Rusty felt like hell the next morning. Her face was less swollen, but she was covered in bruises. She silently thanked God that Brad was away because there was no way she would let him see her in this state – how could she have explained? They usually communicated by phone. He told her when to call his office, and that way they were able to keep in touch as she had been careful to keep her address from him and her supposed place of work. Had he been in Southampton at this time, she would have had to make excuses, until her body and face had healed.
Brad had booked them a room in a hotel in Lymington for the following weekend, and Rusty prayed that by then she would be back to normal. She cursed the American who had done this to her and later that day, wearing dark glasses, she met up with her friend from the previous evening, to warn her about him.
‘Bloody hell, Rusty, you look as if you’ve been in the ring with a prize fighter!’ said Dorothy when Rusty had lifted her glasses for a moment.
‘That bastard took me by surprise. I thought I was a goner, honestly I did. He frightened me to death. I want you to warn all the other girls. That man is dangerous.’
‘You should report him to the army; no man should get away with that.’
‘What are they going to say? As a prostitute, it’s a risk you take. They wouldn’t want to know.’ Although what she said was true, Rusty knew that if she had made a complaint, Captain Brad Jackson would be the officer to deal with her, so that wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t share this fact. She’d kept her relationship with Brad a secret from everyone.
Joe Kowalski was not a popular man in his company. He mainly kept himself to himself, but he was known for his vicious temper. A brooding, silent character, he took offence at the smallest thing and h
ad lost many days’ pay as a consequence of the fights he’d been involved in. But he was an arrogant man. Today he was having breakfast with the soldier that he’d been with in the Horse and Groom the previous night.
‘How did you make out last night, Joe? My girl was great; she gave me a real good time. Worth every nickel.’
Joe swigged down his coffee. ‘Mine wanted to talk; I soon put a stop to that.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked the other warily.
‘She was there to service me. That’s what I paid good money for, and I let her know it.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I had to slap her around a bit; she didn’t like the feel of my hands on her sweet body. Said I was hurting her.’
The other GI looked worried. ‘You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?’
‘Nah! But I fucked her good and hard, that’s what she was there for. I just made her earn her dough, that’s all.’
His companion made excuses and left him. He didn’t want to get mixed up with anything bad, and he had a feeling that one day there would be a price to pay if he stuck around with this guy.
Joe wasn’t bothered by being deserted. He was basically a loner, always had been. He’d been a steel worker in Pennsylvania, like his father. You had to be tough to survive there, and Joe was a survivor. When America came into the war after Pearl Harbour, Joe had seen a way out of his mundane life and signed up. He wanted to see the world, widen his horizons. And now he was in England; next would be France and the fighting. Well, he was used to fighting, and now trained by the army he was a fighting man with a gun and the authority to use it. That suited him just fine.
Rusty rang Brad’s office on Friday evening as planned and was told that he had the use of a jeep for the weekend. She arranged to meet him outside the bombed Holy Rood Church at nine thirty on Saturday morning.
‘I’ve really missed you Rusty,’ Brad told her, ‘I can’t wait to see you again.’
‘I’ve missed you too, Captain,’ she laughed. ‘See you in the morning.’
