by Annie Murray
‘I want to lie with you,’ he said. ‘You’re my woman, and I want you. Say you’ll be mine, Katie? Come here . . .’ He got to his feet and started to lay her back on the bed, which had a soft, silky green eiderdown on it. She was drawn along by his desire. But then she baulked. In those seconds, confused misgivings swarmed in her head. Oh yes, he wanted her – but wasn’t he just a spoilt boy who always made sure he got his own way? What about what she wanted and her feelings? But hadn’t she led him on? Now they had got this far, it seemed wrong to refuse him what he needed. She would have to do it . . .
But panic rose in her. ‘I can’t . . . Not yet . . .’ She pulled away. ‘I just – I don’t know . . . I’m not ready. What if – I mean, you know, a baby . . . ?’ Now they were talking again she felt exposed and chilly, and tried to cover herself with her free arm.
‘You won’t have a baby,’ he said firmly. He came and held her, talking to her rather as if she were a child. ‘It doesn’t happen that quickly, and anyway I’ve got something to stop it. Please believe me, Katie darling, there’s no harm – it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.’ She could sense his urgency. She looked up at him.
‘You’ve done it before. I mean, you’ve been with someone?’
A muscle twitched in his face. ‘No one like you. No one that I’ve really loved. I want to know what it’s like with the woman I truly love.’
Moved, she reached up and stroked his face.
‘Just give me a bit more time,’ she said.
She knew, with every week that passed, that she must soon give in. Their time together now always ended up the same, with each of them naked to the waist, touching, arousing each other and then pulling away with a sense of things remaining unfinished, and though Simon was patient with her, she could tell he was frustrated. She had some idea, also, from a chance remark Ann made, that it was bad for men not to have their desire satisfied. Ann, she imagined, must be satisfying Gordon’s desires quite freely. And Katie had some idea that if men were kept from sexual release, it actually injured them.
This time, when Simon leaned round and looked at her with such a wretchedness of desire, she knew she couldn’t say no. They had the house to themselves and she could not hold back from him any longer.
‘I do want you,’ she whispered. ‘Really I do.’
He was working his fingers inside her blouse, his eyes glazing with desire.
‘Will you let me this time, my darling? I’m just burning for you – I don’t think I can wait much longer.’
She followed him upstairs, led by the hand, feeling her legs turn weak with anticipation of what was about to happen. She had never seen a naked man, or been naked herself in front of anyone, not even her mother, for many years now.
Inside the room there was an awkwardness of removing clothes, which seemed to go on for a long time. Stripped to the waist, Simon turned to her. His upper body was familiar, lovely to her, with the V of dark hair on his chest. Otherwise he was smooth to her touch.
‘I’ve got some French letters. We don’t want to get you into any trouble.’
When they were both naked, he held her close. Feeling him hard against her, his penis like a strange branch coming out from him, the smells of their bodies, she wanted reassurance.
‘Do you love me?’ she asked, looking up, round-eyed.
‘Oh, my darling, of course I do!’ He reached down and kissed each of her breasts in turn. ‘Oh, lie back for me, will you – quickly, there’s a girl. I need you so much.’
The eiderdown was cold under her back. She waited as Simon sat with his back to her. She heard him curse quietly, and a horrible smell of rubber crept to her and she realized he was putting the French letter on. Then his warmth came down on top of her, his body thrusting hurriedly between her legs, and in those seconds before he managed to get inside her she thought: Oh my God, oh Jesus and Mary, what am I doing? And it was painful and intensely strange, and soon delicious as well and there was no going back. It was soon over, though. Simon seemed lost in his own feelings, and when he climaxed she held him, soothing him and stroking his back as he gasped and then was calm. That she could give someone such pleasure!
She lay looking at the ceiling, his face pressed to hers, loving him, yet feeling a little empty and thinking: I am not a virgin any more.
Sixteen
Does my face look different? Katie wondered several times over the next few days. Her mother didn’t seem to have noticed anything. But she asked herself again on the Monday morning when she went into work. She and Simon had come to an arrangement now. She thought he enjoyed the secretive nature of their relationship.
‘I’m sorry I can’t pay you any attention like this in the office, Squeak,’ he said, soon after they were together.
Their lovemaking had made everything more intimate between them. Katie felt, in a heady way, quite equal to him now. And this development had meant they were focused on each other physically, so that she could push away her doubts about how much they had in common, and how sometimes she could find her mind wandering when he was telling her things and how he didn’t seem to listen properly when she was talking to him. Without difficulty that all slid to the side of her mind, now that she had begun to satisfy him in the bedroom. It felt dangerous and romantic, but at the same time they were more relaxed together and had soon chosen nicknames for each other. To her now, he was Big Bear.
‘But it wouldn’t be right, would it? Mixing work and play – and the Old Man’d play hell over it.’
‘I know,’ Katie said. ‘But you don’t have to be so cold. It makes me feel dreadful when I’m there all day and you never even look at me. Just give me a smile or a quick wink, and I’ll know everything’s all right.’
He promised he would, and from then on things had been better. It was rather fun, outwitting Mr Graham – not, as Simon said, that he gave a monkey’s really – and more especially Mrs Crosby, whom they had nicknamed ‘Misery-Guts’.
‘She really could curdle milk with that face,’ Simon said one afternoon as they lay together.
He laughed wholeheartedly when Katie began on one of her imitations of Mrs Crosby’s resentful tones. ‘Yes, Mr Collinge – only my ribbon’s wearing terribly thin. Yes, Mr Collinge.’ Frown, sniff, toss of head . . .
Katie loved being able to make him laugh. ‘I suppose she misses her husband and resents anyone else being happy.’
‘Well, good ruddy luck to him,’ Simon said. ‘I mean, we’ve all got our problems, but at least he’s still alive – not like some. I mean, Gloria in accounts lost her sister in the bombing, but she still manages to put a smile on her face.’
‘I think she must just be like that.’ Katie laughed at his impatience.
‘Don’t let’s worry about her.’ He laid an arm lazily round her shoulders and pulled her close. ‘She’s not important. She’s only a bloody little typist. Now, where d’you want to . . . ?’
She was pulling away, furiously. ‘So that’s what you think!’ she flared at him. ‘So that’s what I am, isn’t it: a bloody little typist!’
‘No, no! That’s not what I mean. I put it all wrong. I just mean – oh, you know, she’s one of those women – compared with you she’s . . . I mean, you’ve got class. You’re different altogether. It’s not because she’s a typist, as such, it’s just . . . She’s not in your league at all. Don’t be cross, Squeak – I wasn’t getting at you.’ He gazed at her with round, little-boy eyes until she forgave him.
Spring days came at last, warm and full of green promise.
‘One day,’ Simon said, as they lay naked together in his bedroom, ‘in fact, not one day – lots of days! – we’ll go out when it’s warm, and we’ll make love out in the open air.’ He trailed his hands across her ribs and she giggled at the way it tickled. ‘We’ll make love in haystacks and fields, on the cliffs, on the beach, up trees . . .’
She was laughing now. ‘Up trees! Can you imagine!’
He turned to her exuber
antly. ‘I can’t ever have enough of you, my Dark Lady. I want to make love to you everywhere and every way . . . Hey, I’ve just thought!’ He pushed himself up. ‘We can go in the garden!’
‘What, now? Don’t be daft. It’s freezing!’
‘It’s nearly May – that’s almost summer!’
‘Well, it may be May, but “the May isn’t out”. And it’s cold. You go in the garden stark naked if you want, but I’m staying in this nice warm bed!’
‘Oh, I see – well, would her Ladyship like her Bear to bring her a cup of tea in her nice warm bed?’
‘Yes – she would, please.’ As he got up, Katie reached up and smacked his bare bottom. ‘Double-quick time!’
Sometimes it felt as if the war would just go on and on, and nothing would change. Apart from a couple of lone bombing raids over Birmingham over the past months, the fighting was all far away, and what was close up meant endless inconveniences: the blackout, the shortages of food and cigarettes, razor blades, booze and petrol – small or large considerations, depending on who you were.
And then suddenly the reality of war would burst in and come up close, as it did that morning when they were all working away in the office, Mrs Crosby miserably mopping her nose because of a spring cold and Katie typing until her fingers ached.
They heard running feet and Mr Graham cannon-balled through the door, more animated than Katie had ever seen him, going so fast that he had a job not to crash into Lena Crosby’s desk.
‘Have you heard the news?’ Obviously they hadn’t. He was hopping from foot to foot. ‘They’ve surrendered, those Kraut bastards! In the desert – in North Africa. The whole bloody sodding lot of them. Monty’s done it!’
The victory at El Alamein led by General Montgomery in the autumn had been a huge boost for morale, and this was more cause for celebration. Hope had appeared.
Katie knew this was the happiest time of her life so far. But something was niggling at her. Simon had a very relaxed view of the future, saying that there was no point in thinking about anything permanent until the war was over. After all, everything was uncertain, here today and gone tomorrow: what was the point in making plans? But Katie was beginning to feel she needed more. After all, she had given herself to him and they were, in her eyes – well, just as good as married, weren’t they? She wouldn’t just lose her virginity to anyone. She wasn’t fast like that. It meant something.
And for all Simon’s reasoning, she thought they should have more to do with each other’s families. To satisfy Vera, Simon had been round a couple of times for tea and met her. He was very charming and reassuring, and Vera seemed almost dazzled by him and the happier for it. But Katie had not even so much as met Simon’s sister, never mind his parents, in any other capacity than as a typist at the works. Mr Collinge senior was still none the wiser.
‘Don’t worry,’ Simon kept saying. ‘We’ll tell them in good time. But just for now, I want you too much to spend too many afternoons drinking tea and making small talk.’ Then he would pull her close to him and look deeply into her eyes. ‘For the moment I want you all to myself!’
And it was very gratifying that he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. He had an endless thirst for love-making and this made her feel desirable and, in turn, made her desire him all the more. As spring turned to summer and the flowers blossomed, she resigned herself to waiting – the way they were all waiting, all the time, for the war to end, for things to change.
Seventeen
‘What’s the matter?’ Ann said, seeing Katie grimace as she took a sip of her coffee. ‘Dain’t you put any sugar in?’
‘Yes . . .’ Katie stirred it again, but it still didn’t taste any better.
‘I thought you liked that Camp stuff. Anyway, as I was saying . . .’
Their occasional Saturday-morning meetings for a cuppa were a chance to catch up on Ann’s love life, which to Katie’s surprise still seemed to involve Gordon. She hadn’t thought he’d last long, but Ann seemed quite stuck on him now.
‘I had the most terrible fright . . .’ Ann leaned close across the table, her eyes wide, voice sinking low. She looked to each side to see if anyone could hear. ‘I thought last week that I must be . . .’ She was whispering now. ‘Expecting!’ For a moment she put one hand over her mouth and laid the other on her chest, rolling her eyes. ‘God, I was terrified! What the hell would I’ve said to Mom? She’d’ve killed me! My life would’ve been over.’
Katie’s heart thudded so hard that she felt dizzy. She looked down to try and hide her burning cheeks.
‘Katie, you all right?’
‘Oh yes – course.’ She raised her head again to hear Ann’s whispers.
‘I thought I’d missed – you know, my monthly visitor was late. I mean I’ve been careful lately, making sure I keep a note, and for three days – oh, blimey.’ She sat back, her immense breasts heaving dramatically under her pale-green sweater. ‘I can’t tell you the relief. I started thinking I had all the signs . . .’
‘Well, what would they be?’ Katie asked quickly. She arranged her face in what she hoped was a relaxed expression. Ann smiled at this innocence.
‘Oh, you know, the usual things: missing your monthly, feeling tired out and everything tasting funny – then morning sickness.’ She stopped and thought. ‘When my sister Florrie was having little Amy, she kept fainting if she stood up for long, and she said she had this nasty taste in her mouth. In fact she was quite poorly all the way through.’
While trying to keep an interested, calm expression, Katie found her thoughts hurtling round in panic. She had missed. Her period was late. Very late. But she wasn’t being sick, was she? Not actually sick, although she did feel a bit queasy at times. Quite a lot of the time, if she was truthful. But surely she might just have a chill on her stomach or something? Taking another sip of coffee, she couldn’t help reacting to the horrible taste. Was it her? Surely the coffee was just the same? She decided she wouldn’t bother to drink the rest.
‘Anyroad, I was in a right state for three days, and I think our mom was beginning to suspect something. And then it came – oh!’ Ann fanned her hand past her face in relief. ‘I don’t know what I’d’ve done, honest to God I don’t. I s’pect Gordon would stick by me. He’s mad about me. But I don’t want marriage and kiddies and all that yet – I mean, our Amy and Raymond are the best of kids, but they are a handful. Florrie never stops. I don’t think I could stand all that yet – I want to have some fun first!’ Ann narrowed her eyes and looked at Katie again. ‘You sure you’re all right?’
‘Yes – course. It’s just been a tiring week: working late and . . .’
‘And playing late, I bet, you dark horse. How’s it going with your fella – the perfect gent? And are you still getting digs from her Majesty?’
Katie had told Ann a certain amount about Simon – she loved talking about him for one thing, and there was really no on else she could say much to. Ann knew he was the boss’s son. And she knew about Lena Crosby.
‘Oh, she doesn’t change,’ Katie laughed. She sat back and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, though all the time her hands were clenched tightly in her lap. ‘She makes all sorts of catty remarks. She keeps making out I’m the favourite in the office, even though they really do treat us the same. If anyone asks her to run an errand, she gets all pointy-faced about it because she thinks I should be doing everything like that, because I’m younger. But Simon and I’ – how she loved saying that, Simon and I – ‘never do or say anything in the office that’s not to do with the job.’
‘Oh, she’s just jealous.’
‘Mind you, Simon did mention that he’d been to a concert at the Town Hall the other night, and she gave me such a look because she must have guessed I went as well. And we’re going to the Hippodrome on Saturday.’
‘You lucky thing,’ Ann said good-naturedly. ‘He’s quite a classy number, isn’t he?’ Still, so are you, so there you go. Gordon’s more of a one for going
down the pub and a game of darts. And we have to go to his mom’s a lot ’cause she’s not very well. She’s all right, though, Mrs T. I get on with her. I need to, don’t I? She might be my mother-in-law one day. What about your mother: doesn’t she mind you gadding about?’
‘Well, she makes remarks sometimes,’ Katie said. ‘But I think she’s decided there’s nothing she can do about it.’
‘Well, that’s good,’ Ann said. ‘’Bout time.’
It was good to sit and chat with Ann, and Katie felt herself relax gradually, her mind distracted from the subject she was obsessed with. But as soon as they parted and Katie was walking along New Street towards the bus stop, she felt terror clasp her innards again like a freezing cold hand.
The thought was never far from her mind and her certainty grew. What Ann had said, other bits of information she picked up – she had even been to the library and looked up in a medical book – and the strange, different way she was feeling, all added up. She covered it up from everyone else, but by the time it was high summer she had missed two periods and looked like missing a third, so there was no getting away from it. She had a baby on the way.
The first time she actually allowed herself to say it, she was in the bath at Simon’s house. It was a warm July day and they had been out for a walk. Katie felt hot and sticky, but more than that, she needed to be alone. Amid all Simon’s cheerful chatter about life in general, the war and golf and his plans for the future – which she couldn’t help noticing, more and more, did not seem to involve marriage, or her, or was she being over-sensitive? – she was finding it very hard to keep talking and smiling as if there was nothing wrong.
