Their Guilty Pleasures

by June Tate

  To be truthful, Sarah was relieved. She was so tired at the end of a working day, and by now she felt part of the family, which was a great comfort as her own family had disowned her. The Browns had been so good to her, and she welcomed the fact that she could be of some use to Ethel, whose working day seemed long and arduous, so she agreed.

  She kept in constant touch with Gunter by mail. They exchanged letters frequently, and last week she’d sent him a snap showing her ever-increasing girth. On the back she’d written: Your first view of your baby.

  When Gunter received the letter and photo, he took it off to a quiet corner to read and to study the picture. He smiled softly as he looked at the happy face of the mother of his forthcoming child. He ran his finger over her swollen stomach, wondering if he’d fathered a boy or a girl. Then a frown creased his forehead as he realized he might not see his offspring for some time. The future was full of uncertainties. The war was still raging, he was still a prisoner and when eventually hostilities ceased, he would be repatriated to Germany. Would he be allowed to see the mother and child before he left? And when he was home, what would he find there? Would he still have a home – were his parents alive, would he be able to work? If he had a wife and child, he wouldn’t be able to afford to continue his legal studies; he’d have to earn a wage to keep them. He let out a deep sigh. Oh, why was life so complicated and so full of problems?

  Captain Brad Jackson was thinking much the same as he waited for Chad to report back to him. When, on Friday, Rusty had phoned as he had requested, he made an excuse, said he was snowed under with work and to call again at the end of the following week. He knew from the tone of her voice that she was disappointed, but at this moment in time, he felt he couldn’t face her. He was so wound up about Kowalski’s slur on her that he wouldn’t have been able to behave naturally, and that would have caused Rusty to question him . . . and how the hell could he have explained? No, it was easier this away.

  For Chad, too, his task was problematical. He hated what he was having to do. Most of all he dreaded finding out that the GI had been speaking the truth and having to tell Brad, a man whom he admired greatly. It was giving him sleepless nights, and as he tossed and turned one night in the bed he occasionally shared with Jenny, she asked him what was wrong. So he told her.

  ‘Oh my God! I can’t believe that of Rusty.’

  ‘I don’t want to, but there was something in Kowalski’s voice that made me think he was speaking the truth, and that worries me.’

  ‘Oh, Chad, wouldn’t it be terrible if it was true? I don’t mean so much about Rusty being a prostitute, I mean for Brad finding out. He adores her.’

  ‘And she loves him; it’s obvious when you see them together. But I have a bad feeling about this. I wish Brad hadn’t asked me to look into it, I really do.’

  ‘If it is true, will you tell him?’

  ‘I don’t have a choice, honey. Let’s hope I don’t have to.’

  But a week later, when he had followed Kowalski into The Grapes pub in Oxford Street, Chad’s worst fears were realized. He bought a beer and kept himself in the background of the crowded bar, out of Kowalski’s sight, and watched. Shortly after, Rusty came into the bar with another woman, and Chad waited to see what would happen.

  Kowalski didn’t bother them, he was talking to a couple of GIs, but in time, two other soldiers joined the girls, and after a few drinks, they all left together. Chad followed at a distance.

  Rusty was laughing and chatting to the American with her, and then they parted from the other couple. Chad followed at a distance and saw Rusty take the soldier into a small house. When he walked up to the door, he could see Rusty’s name alongside one of the four doorbells. It was obviously where she lived. That surprised him, as seedy Canal Walk was not the sort of place where a young, respectable typist would live. He waited. An hour later, the soldier came out alone.

  Chad walked up to him. ‘Gotta light, pal?’

  The fellow American stopped and took out a lighter from his uniform and handed it to him.

  Handing it back, Chad looked at the man. ‘Was she worth the money?’ he asked with a forced chuckle.

  The soldier grinned broadly. ‘I’ll say. You want a good lay, buddy, you couldn’t do better!’ And he walked off.

  Chad walked slowly away. He felt sad that in the morning he would have to impart such news to Brad, and he wondered what the consequence would be.

  Alone in her room, Rusty put the money she’d earned away in the drawer. She sat on the side of the bed, still in her underwear, and thought: I can’t do this any more. Every time she took a punter, she felt she was being unfaithful to Brad. She hated it when men pawed at her. Before, it was part of the job, but now it seemed obscene. She walked over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. She ran her fingers through her auburn tresses.

  ‘You need a proper job, girl,’ she said. Tomorrow she’d look for something. That American had been her last punter, she decided. From now on she’d be respectable; she owed it to the man she loved.

  Chad waited for Brad to arrive in the office the following morning, filled with trepidation. As the captain walked through the door, he stepped forward. ‘Can I have a word, sir, before you start the day?’

  Brad looked at him and saw the expression on his face, and his heart sank. ‘Yes, Corporal, come in.’ They walked into his office and closed the door.

  Chad stood in front of the desk. He hesitated. ‘You asked me to check on Rusty, and I’ve done so.’ He stopped there, hardly knowing how he could carry on.

  Brad held his gaze and, with a grim face, asked, ‘And?’

  Chad gave him all the details; he had no choice. Had he lied, and Brad had discovered the truth later, it would have been worse for the captain.

  Brad looked devastated as he listened. ‘Thank you, Chad,’ he said quietly. ‘I know this wasn’t easy for you, and I appreciate what you’ve done. Hold my calls for a while, will you?’

  ‘Yes, I will. I’m real sorry.’ He turned and left the office.

  Brad sat staring into space, not wanting to believe what he’d heard. How could he have been so easily fooled? How could Rusty declare her love for him when all the time she was taking other men to her bed . . . for money! She had lied about her work; had she lied too about loving him? All his hopes for the future died at that moment. And yet . . . he still loved her. In his mind he saw her face, heard her laughter, remembered how her soft skin felt as they made love. He got up and walked over to the window, looked out beyond his office, saw people going about their business – and cursed the war.

  There was a knock on his door. ‘Come in.’

  Chad entered and, closing the door behind him, said, ‘We don’t have anything major to deal with today, so why don’t you get out of here? Get some fresh air – it helps to clear the mind. I can cope with anything that comes in.’

  Brad looked at him gratefully. ‘Thanks, Chad, that’s a great idea.’

  ‘No sweat, I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Brad drove out to the stables and asked Beth if he could take out one of her mounts. She was pleased to see him; she told him which one needed exercising and left him to it.

  As he rode out of the stables, he breathed a sigh of relief. Riding, for him, was totally therapeutic; it was just what he needed. He dug his heels into the horse and trotted away towards the woods, trying to clear his mind of the tortuous thoughts that invaded it.

  An hour later, he found himself near Jenny’s house and rode up the path. He saw her deadheading the roses in the front garden.

  Jenny was surprised when she saw him, and knowing from the phone call she’d had from her lover that his worse fears had been confirmed, she wondered just what Brad was doing here. She waited for him to dismount.

  ‘This is a nice surprise,’ she said as she walked towards him. ‘Here, tether the horse to this garden post. I’ll fetch some water for him,’ and she disappeared into the house, emerging soon after with a
bucket, filled to the brim.

  After the horse had satisfied his thirst she turned to her friend. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Thanks, that’d be great.’

  They sat in the kitchen by the window, looking out over the back garden. ‘It’s so peaceful here,’ he said as he sipped his drink and lit a cigarette. ‘It’s just what I need right now.’

  She didn’t press him, figuring if he wanted to tell her anything, he would do so in his own time. ‘I so enjoy the summer in the garden,’ she said, ‘because when autumn does come, although it’s also a beautiful season, it’s a sad one. You know, everything coming to an end before the winter sets in.’

  He gazed at her and said, ‘I feel pretty autumnal myself right now.’

  She waited, and then he began to tell her what had happened. She was silent as she listened, but when he said that the hardest thing to accept was Rusty’s lies, she spoke. ‘Rusty, for whatever reason, lives a precarious life, and I for one won’t judge her, Brad, but one thing I am certain of is that she loves you. That was not a lie; I’d stake my life on it.’

  ‘I’d like to think you’re right, but what am I going to do, Jenny?’

  She thought deeply as she knew this matter was of the utmost importance; the future of both of them hung on a very thin thread. ‘That depends on how deeply you love her and if you can forget the way she earns her money.’

  ‘I find that very hard to do. The thought of other men . . .’

  ‘You have to talk to her, Brad.’

  ‘And say what?’

  ‘That all depends on you. I can’t help you there, I wish I could. But you can’t leave things up in the air. You have to sort it, one way or another.’

  ‘Yes, I guess you’re right.’ He finished his coffee. ‘I’d best get back to the stables or Beth will think I’ve stolen her horse.’

  Jenny put a comforting arm through his as they left the house. As he mounted the horse, she looked up at him. ‘Good luck, Brad.’

  He smiled. ‘I guess Rusty was my guilty pleasure,’ he said. And he rode away.

  That evening, Chad drove over to Jenny’s house, and they discussed what had happened. She felt so sorry for the doctor who had become such a friend to her. ‘Is there anything we can do?’ she asked.

  Chad shook his head. ‘No, honey, Brad will have to work this out for himself. If I was in his shoes, I’m damned if I know how I would react. I feel for Rusty too. OK, she might be a whore, but she’s a terrific woman and she’s crazy about him . . . What a mess!’

  ‘I told him that he should see her and get it sorted, but however it turns out, two people are going to be deeply hurt.’

  When, on Friday, Rusty rang Brad as arranged, he said he’d be free at seven thirty and he’d pick her up outside Holy Rood Church. He spoke abruptly, which was unlike him. Usually, his voice was full of warmth when he spoke to her, but not now.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, fine, just rushed off my feet. I’ll see you later.’

  As she put down the receiver, she felt her stomach tighten. Something was very wrong. Was he going to tell her he was being shipped out, was that it? It was obvious to all the townspeople that something big was going to happen – you couldn’t move for troops queuing alongside the quay and the docks. Armoured tanks were lined up, and the huge Mulberry Harbours being built were now finished. That had to be it, he was leaving!

  At seven thirty, Rusty waited outside the church, her heart beating so hard that she almost felt faint. When Brad pulled up in front of her and told her to get into the jeep, she did so.

  ‘Rusty, we need to talk,’ he said as they drove off.

  Fifteen

  They drove in silence. Rusty glanced across at Brad and saw his grim expression, the tightness of his jaw, and she was scared. This man she loved as much as life itself was leaving. By now she was sure this was the reason. What if he was killed in action? She didn’t think she could survive such a loss.

  Brad headed out through Bitterne and turned off the road towards Hamble, where he eventually parked the vehicle, overlooking Southampton Water. He switched off the engine and turned to her.

  ‘Whatever is it, Brad?’ she asked. But the answer she received shocked her to the core.

  ‘You lied to me, Rusty. You told me that you were a typist with one of the shipping lines, when all the time you were “entertaining the troops”!’

  She felt the blood drain from her body. ‘Oh my God!’ The words escaped her lips before she was aware of them.

  ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’ Brad’s voice was like ice.

  She was stunned into silence. With trembling fingers, she reached into her handbag for a cigarette and lit it, trying to think what she could say. Taking a deep drag on the cigarette, she blew out the smoke and then stared straight into his eyes.

  ‘What can I say? It’s the truth. When we first met it didn’t matter, we were just having a good time, but when I fell in love with you, I couldn’t tell you in case I lost you.’

  His eyes glittered with anger. ‘You say you fell in love with me, but you still continued in your profession! You didn’t love me enough to stop you taking other men to your bed.’

  How could she explain? The fact that she had now stopped, and had found a job this week, seemed irrelevant. He would wonder why she had waited so long to do so. Indeed, she wondered that herself.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Brad.’

  ‘You lied to me. Did you lie about your parents too?’

  She nodded. ‘My father left my mother just before the war, though he is in Australia. Mum lives in Southampton. I left home after a row and I’ve not seen her since.’ She saw the disappointment on his face. ‘I wanted to impress you,’ she cried.

  ‘Why, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Because you come from a much better class than me. I wanted you to think well of me because I liked you – then I loved you. And that isn’t a lie, Brad.’

  He shook his head as he looked at her. ‘Oh Rusty, class wasn’t at all important. There was no need for all this subterfuge.’

  She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Oh really! My mother is a drunk! What’s to be proud of?’

  ‘Alcoholism is an illness, it isn’t her fault. I’ve dealt with that in my practice, I know.’

  ‘Have you dealt with prostitution too?’ She glared at him defiantly.

  ‘What made you become a prostitute, if I may ask? I’m trying to understand. Why that and not some other job?’

  There was no way she could make him understand; it would sound so shallow. How could she tell him she had just wanted a good time and the opportunity arose one night and she just carried on from there, knowing she could make a mint of money?’

  ‘It really doesn’t matter why, Brad. I am what I am, and no one can change that.’

  He was at a loss to know what to say, as his own feelings were in turmoil. He started the jeep’s engine, reversed, turned and drove back to the town.

  Rusty sat beside him, tears brimming in her eyes, knowing she’d lost the man who meant everything to her.

  Brad stopped the vehicle outside the church where he’d met her. He didn’t know what to say. He just looked at her.

  She saw the pain etched on his face, and her heart was breaking. She touched his hand. ‘I am so sorry. I wish it was a different story because I love you so very much.’ She leaned forward and kissed his lips softly . . . then got out of the jeep and ran down the street.

  Brad wanted to call after her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He put the car into gear and drove back to the camp.

  During the next few weeks, Brad hardly had time to draw breath, which was his saving grace. Overlord was on, and D-Day was approaching. Southampton was packed with troops, lining up ready to cross the English Chanel to Normandy. The weather was bad, and Eisenhower had delayed the crossing for twenty-four hours.

  Despite asking his commanding officer if he could be allowed to cross with his men, th
is had been denied. He was pivotal to the organization, he was told. ‘We need you here.’ He had to remain in the war room, surrounded by maps, with the plans for the invasion before him.

  But when it was time for his men to leave, he spoke briefly to them and wished them luck. As he watched them march out of the camp gates, he wondered just how many would be coming back. He saw Kowalski marching past. He wasn’t unhappy to see the last of the man.

  Kowalski saw the captain watching and smirked to himself. Well, Captain, he thought, you got what was coming to you.

  But the GI got his as he stepped off the landing craft. He didn’t even make the beach, as a single bullet caught him right between the eyes.

  Rusty, now working as a shop assistant in Edwin Jones, wondered if Brad was among the troops that were marching through the streets. She was leading a very quiet life these days. She’d moved out of Canal Walk and was renting a small flat in the Polygon area, well away from the streets where she used to trade. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of her lover and wish that things could have been different. If only she could have seen him just once more . . . Remembering how hurt he’d been, it was perhaps for the best, but she was deeply unhappy.

  To her surprise, one day in mid June she looked up as a customer paused in front of her counter and saw it was Jenny. She didn’t know what to do or how Jenny would be towards her, knowing that she was such a good friend of Brad’s.

  ‘Rusty!’ said Jenny. ‘How lovely to see you. How are you?’

  With some relief, Rusty smiled back. ‘I’m fine, how are you?’

  They chatted about inconsequential things, and then Jenny asked, ‘Do you get a break for lunch?’

  ‘Yes, in about half an hour.’