The Black Mountains

by Janet Tanner

  Part of the trouble, he was sure, was that they knew him too well. He would much prefer to work further from home, and there had been a vacancy he would have liked at Sanderley, a village three miles north of Hillsbridge on the road to Bath. But he had no way of getting there each day, and walking was out of the question with his artificial leg.

  He had been fitted now with what he called his ‘proper one’—the leg that attached to his stump by straps, and which he would be using, if he was lucky, for a good many years to come. After his early struggles, he found it surprisingly easy to manage, and he could get around at a good speed. But if he overdid things, the stump rubbed raw. And six miles walking a day, would certainly be overdoing things!

  But he would only be at the C of E for a few months, he consoled himself, and it would be experience which would stand him in good stead. And by the time he finished his training and came to look for another job, he would be that much older.

  “You were lucky to get into Bristol University,” William Davies said, harking back to the training that was so close to his heart.

  Jack nodded. “Yes, it’s good to be within striking distance of home. And I’m looking forward to working with the university students as well as doing my teacher training.”

  “And not too far away from your girl, either,” William Davies added with a smile, and Jack coloured. He wouldn’t have mentioned it, but it certainly was a consideration. He didn’t want to be far away from Rosa.

  Since that night when he had rescued her in the market yard, Jack’s life had revolved round Rosa. Just how it had happened, he could not be sure, but suddenly he had found himself thinking about her all the time, picturing her dark eyes, her glossy hair and the curve of her red lips when she smiled.

  He’d always found her attractive. Even in the days when his world had consisted of schoolwork and aeroplanes. But now, suddenly, she was within his reach, and she was not only lovely and enchanting, but there was also something of the old days about her that gave him a warm and pleasurable feeling. She had known him when he was whole, and she had known Fred, too, and all the others who had once been a part of his everyday life and were gone now.

  Sometimes, it was true, he still thought of Stella O’Halloran, and blushed to remember how he had thought she might care for him. Had she known how he had felt? He hoped not, although he thought that after nursing as many soldiers as she had, she was probably used to them falling in love with her, and understood, or even dismissed it as a part of the healing process. But in spite of his embarrassment, and the brief, warm intimacy they had shared when she had listened to his fears and comforted him, she was unreal to him now. In fact, had it not been for the reality of his stump, he sometimes found it difficult to believe those months in hospital had ever happened at all. While Rosa …

  Rosa was beautiful and mysterious, a potent mixture of the untamed and the vulnerable. And there was no doubt at all that she was real, though he sometimes felt as if she had woven a spell about him.

  “You’re a witch,” he told her one night, smiling into the dark eyes that seemed to hypnotize him, and he had no way of knowing how much the remark pleased her, even now.

  “You think so?” she asked, tossing her head and looking at him narrowly, and he put his arms around her, pulling her into the gap between the coal-houses and kissing her until she was breathless.

  It was a warm April evening. After the harsh winter, spring had come early and it had been just the right weather for Jack to take his ‘constitutionals’ as he described the slow, painful excursions when he tried to teach himself to walk without a stick. But painful or not, he did not mind, for they also provided a good excuse to be alone with Rosa in the way that both of them liked best—out in the lanes, away from distractions, where they could simply enjoy one another’s company and watch the countryside wake up from its winter sleep.

  Jack had never been a one for the entertainments Ted enjoyed, and Rosa was more at home under the stars, so this at least they had in common, and for Jack, just being with Rosa was a delight.

  He knew Charlotte disapproved. And he would have liked her to accept Rosa as she had accepted Jim’s Sarah or even Ted’s Becky, but she didn’t, and he was determined not to spoil things by worrying about it. She was his mother, maybe, but he had his own life to lead, and with Rosa, it promised to be very exciting.

  As he felt himself rise and harden he drew her deeper into the shadow of the outbuildings, balancing himself against the wall and pulling her close. If only there was somewhere they could go for a bit of real privacy! But there wasn’t, and perhaps it was just as well. If he had her on his own for too long, he didn’t know how long he would be able to resist her.

  He bent her head beneath his, kissing her again and feeling her lips open gently like the petals of a water lily. As the layers unfolded he tasted the sweetness of her mouth and his desire mounted, spreading from the heart of him in ever-widening circles like the molten lava that pours from a volcano. The kiss became deeper and more demanding: her arms were around his neck, her fingers playing in his hair, and her body moved against his with a sensuous insistence that brought him to a pitch of desire. He moved his body against hers and felt her thighs yield beneath the pressure. One of her hands left his neck and moved slowly down his back, setting every nerve alight, and each time he raised his head, her mouth sought his again, drawing it down until he felt he was drowning in her.

  It was sweet torture. Part of him wanted to stay locked in the embrace forever, part demanded the release of passion in an earth-shattering climax. But this was far too public a place, and even if it wasn’t …

  There was only one way he could have her, without guilt. It had occurred to him before, when he had lain awake aching to have her with him, but he had dismissed it, telling himself it was too soon. Now, however, it was there again, and he knew that where Rosa was concerned, it could never be too soon.

  He held her away from him so that he felt her warm breath slide over his cheek. “ Rosa, I want you to marry me,” he said.

  The ripple of breath against his face stopped, so did her hands and the gentle, sensuous movement of her hips. She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise, then he felt a shudder run through her body. It stirred a new depth in him, and he shifted himself awkwardly, aware suddenly of the importance of her answer.

  Time seemed suspended, the sounds of the night very far away. In the kitchen of one of the houses along the rank, someone was whistling tunelessly. From a nearby coal-house came the sound of a scraping shovel and the thud of falling coal, and far out over the valley an owl hooted its low, mournful call. Jack shifted again so that Rosa’s profile came into focus, the clearly defined line of nose and chin, the slender throat, the rounded thrust of breast.

  “Rosa …” he said again, but she interrupted him, as if the sound of his voice had broken the spell.

  “Yes,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if he imagined the slight harshness in her tone.

  He swallowed at the lump of nervousness that seemed to be choking him. “ You mean …”

  “I mean, yes, all right, I’ll marry you.” There was no mistaking it now, that edge that shouldn’t have been there. He shuddered slightly, then pushed the unwelcome thought away. Rosa was accepting his proposal. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t blushing and whispering shyly as all the girls in the music-hall songs did. She was no retiring maiden left behind by the Victorian era. Nor was she a modern miss either. She was a free spirit, as wild as the vixen who came down to the gardens at night to steal a hen to feed her cubs. She would never give herself lightly—if she gave herself at all! He must never, ever, expect too much of her, or try to cage her. He knew that with certainty. But it did not stop him from pulling her close again, his body on fire with joy.

  “Rosa, you’ve just made me the happiest man alive! Come here.”

  But she pushed herself free, all the passion she had displayed a few moments ago gone now.

  “Not here
, Jack Hall! What ever are you thinking of? Someone might come by and see us…”

  He laughed, kissing the top of her head and taking her hand.

  “All right. Let’s go and tell them we’re going to be married. Then if they see me kissing you, perhaps they’ll have the decency to look the other way!”

  She hung back.

  “Tell who?”

  “Well, your father might be a good start. I ought to ask him properly if it’s all right, I suppose. And then there’ll be a dickens of a lot to talk about—like where we’re going to live for a start.”

  “With us,” she said promptly. “I’ll have to stay home to look after the boys.”

  His face fell.

  “Well, I hadn’t thought of it that way. And I’ll be in Bristol after the summer anyway. I couldn’t travel every day. We’ll have to work something out.”

  She didn’t answer. There was the strangest expression on her face, and he gave her hand a tug.

  “Never mind about it now, anyway. For tonight, let’s just think about celebrating. Tomorrow will be time enough for problems, eh?”

  She nodded, and they left the shadow of the coal-houses and crossed the yard to the back door. With her hand on the latch she paused, looking up at him.

  “Jack, you are sure, aren’t you?”

  In the moonlight her face was a pale oval beneath her heavy dark hair.

  “I wouldn’t have asked you if I hadn’t been sure.”

  “No, but …” Again the hesitation, then her eyes met his, challenging him. “You haven’t said you love me.”

  “Haven’t I?” he asked, melting inside. “Well, in that case, I love you. Will that do? Or do you want me to say it again?”

  She shook her head, a faint smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

  “No, that’ll do nicely. Let’s go and see Dad, shall we?”

  And as he followed her into the scullery, it did not occur to him that he hadn’t asked whether she loved him too. And Rosa had certainly no intention of telling him.

  WALTER CLEMENTS received the news of his daughter’s engagement quietly and without surprise. He had known for some time which way the wind was blowing, and although he had expected it to be Ted who would take her down the aisle, he thought Jack would do almost as well, even if he did have a few ideas above his station.

  There were, of course, certain things that would have to be sorted out, but he didn’t expect any serious problems. The last few weeks he’d been chatting to Molly Hamblin, whose husband, Wilf, had been killed on the Somme, and he thought that he would be able to persuade her to come in and ‘do’ for him and the boys, if nothing else. With Rosa at home, he had had no excuse to ask her, but if she was going to get married, that was rather different. Why, he might even think of getting married again himself. For all that Ada had been a poor, skinny creature and about as responsive to his love-making as a lump of best lard, his bed was cold on winter nights without her, and he was still barely middle-aged. Yes, maybe it wasn’t such a bad stroke of fortune, Rosa wanting to get married.

  On the other side of the dividing wall, however, at number eleven, Charlotte Hall was taking a less tolerant view.

  When Jack came in and announced his intention of marrying Rosa Clements, she was both amazed and furious. “You must have taken leave of your senses!” she declared, her voice rising so loudly that he was afraid that, in spite of the thickness of the wall, Rosa might hear her. “You’re just starting a job that’s taken us all our time for the last ten years to get you into, and you talk about saddling yourself with a wife. Have you thought what it’s going to mean to you, son?”

  “I know it’s come as a bit of a surprise to you, Mam,” he said, trying to pacify her. “ But we can work something out, I know. I’m not hard up. I’ve got my gratuity put by, and the ex-serviceman’s grant to come. We’ll find somewhere in Bristol to live and …”

  “Hah!” Charlotte exclaimed shortly. “ Finding somewhere to live isn’t so easy these days. Don’t you know there’s a housing shortage on? Or haven’t you heard about the people building themselves shacks to live in out of any old oddments they can find? Disgusting, I call it!”

  “Look, Mam, I’ve got no intentions of doing anything so daft,” Jack said. “ There must be places to rent if you can pay. And when I’ve finished training and get a job, there might be a house to go with it.”

  “And what if babies come along, have you thought of that?” Charlotte asked him. “They do, you know, once you start your goings-on.”

  Jack coloured. At heart he was still quite reserved, and the subject of contraception was not one he felt ready to discuss with his mother.

  “There’s no need to start a family until you want to nowadays,” he said quietly. “There’s ways and means, you know.”

  “Ah, and so there always has been for those in the know,” Charlotte informed him. “But all it takes is a drop too much to drink and a bit of carelessness, and all the ways and means in the world won’t do you any good.”

  “I don’t drink, Mam,” Jack snapped, growing a little tired of the opposition. “And nothing you can say is going to make me change my mind, so you might as well accept it. I’m going to marry Rosa.”

  Charlotte turned away, slicing bread ready for supper with a ferocity that alarmed him.

  “Mam …” he said, still hoping for her approval, and after a moment her rigid back slumped, and she turned back to face him, the breadknife still in her hand.

  “You’ll regret it, Jack, I’m telling you. When you get to college, you’ll meet girls more like yourself…”

  Jack’s temper, slow to rise, was up now. Offended by her words, he sprang to Rosa’s defence. “So that’s it! I wondered how long it would be before you started telling me she wasn’t good enough for me, Mam.”

  Charlotte recoiled a little at his tone, then returned to the attack.

  “She’s a nice enough girl, Jack, I’ll give you that. And she’s got the looks as well. It’s not that I’m blaming you. It’s just that I know, if you wait, you can do better for yourself.”

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t understand you, Mam. Just who do you think we are, that she’s not good enough? You always stood up for her when people pointed the finger at her. But when it comes to welcoming her into your own family, it’s a different story. And I call that hypocritical.”

  “Oh, maybe, Jack.” She brandished the breadknife helplessly. “It’s just that I don’t want to see you throw yourself away. If you marry her, you’ll to regret it. It’s as simple as that. Maybe she and Ted could have made a go of it. It don’t know. But in the end, when those looks of hers have gone, or when you come to wanting more than love morning, noon and night, you’ll get tired of her. You need your own kind, Jack, that’s what it boils down to. And she’s not your kind.”

  He stared at her, not understanding the certainty in her tone, but shaken by it all the same. Then he straightened his shoulders.

  “I think you’ve said enough, Mam,” he said coldly. “I’d hoped you would be pleased for me, but as you’re not, it would be better for all of us in the long run if you were to keep your thoughts to yourself. And you might as well make up your mind to it I’m going to marry Rosa, and nothing you can say is going to alter that.”

  “I see. Well …” Charlotte stopped suddenly mid-sentence, biting on the words that had flown to her lips, then turning away. “Well, if that’s the way you feel, I dare say there’s no more to be said. But I hope you won’t rush into this just to prove me wrong. I hope you’ll take your time and sort things out properly.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m not the fool you seem to take me for, Mam. When I marry Rosa, it’ll be all done properly, with a chapel service and a reception and a few days away. It’s what she wants, and I owe that to her. And I only hope that by then you’ll see things differently.” His voice softened. “ I’m grateful to you, Mam, for all you’ve done for me. Don’t think I don’t k
now the sacrifices you made. But that doesn’t give you the right to choose my wife for me. Never that.”

  She inclined her head abruptly. The years passed before her eyes, from the day when he had told her he wanted to become a teacher and proved what she had always known—that he was different from the others. She saw herself calling on Rector Archer, humbling herself for Jack’s sake, baring her soul as she had never bared it in her life. She felt again the pain in her hands when they had cracked and bled from too many hours in a pail of hot soapy water on a winter-cold doorstep, and the tiredness she had fought and conquered so as to keep going to earn the money to keep him at school. Through it all, she had kept her eyes fixed firmly to a star—Jack’s star—and her determination to help him win the position in life that was his birthright. Now he was going to throw it all away by marrying Rosa Clements.

  It would be a mistake, she knew it in her bones. And it wasn’t just a matter of snobbery. Charlotte was a realist, not a snob. She knew that Rosa, daughter of a washerwoman and a fairground man, could never fit into the life that Jack would want. If she had been clever, as he was clever, she could have made the jump, but she wasn’t. No, as she had told him, once the physical attraction wore off, there would be nothing left.

  But how to make him see it? How to stop him making such a terrible mistake? He was twenty-one now, so he could marry whom he pleased. And in any case, withholding consent often did more harm than good. She’d seen it happen.

  There has to be a way, Charlotte thought, and whatever it is, I’ll find it. I’ll not stand by and see him throw it all away now. Not after all we’ve been through.

  But to Jack, she nodded her head, so that the strand of greying hair escaped from her bun and fell down her cheek.

  “Oh, well, I dare say in the end you’ll do whatever you think,” she said. And went back to slicing bread.

  “MRS HALL, excuse me, it is Mrs Hall, isn’t it?”