A Wartime Friend

by Lizzie Lane

  ‘No. I suppose not.’

  Perhaps it was the late hour, the fact that they were unlikely to be interrupted, but John found himself stating exactly what was in his heart. ‘Meg, I know it’s early days since you lost your husband, and you’re about to give birth to his child, but I have to tell you that you’re rarely far from my thoughts.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’ John’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

  Meg sat thoughtfully, a small frown creasing her brow. ‘It’s funny. In the past I would never have been so honest about my feelings. But that was when I was living in a London suburb where the men were out at work all day and the women were too busy housekeeping and child-rearing to have time for friendships. Not for real friendships anyway. I’ve only lived in Upper Standwick for a few months, yet I’ve had some very in-depth conversations with other women here. I think the fresh air must have something to do with it. Yes, people can be nosy, but they’re not really prying into your private business, they’re just interested. I never knew it before, but a village is like one big family.’

  John wrapped both hands around his cup and thought about the sleepless nights when after seeing Meg during the day he couldn’t get her out of his mind. What if she turned him down flat? What if there was somebody else or, the worst scenario of all, what if Ray wasn’t dead? What if he came back? Then all your dreams would be over, mate, and that’s it and all about it!

  He started when her fingers suddenly brushed his hand.

  ‘John, I appreciate you caring. I really do.’

  ‘More than caring.’

  ‘Yes. More than caring; but let’s get things in perspective. I would need more than one parachute to make a wedding dress if we tied the knot before the baby is born! Just look at me!’

  They both laughed, but once the laughter had finished, John took both of her hands in his and they sat there for a moment, both deep in thought as they looked into each other’s eyes. The grandfather clock ticked in time with their hearts until, chiming the half past, they were reminded of how late it was.

  Meg let the blackout curtain fall behind them both. A surge of night-time air made their faces tingle. Meg stood aside so John could get by.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said softly and kissed her cheek.

  She reached up with both hands, cupped his face and brought his lips down to hers. Her kiss was firm and eager. John responded, his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair.

  ‘You smell as fresh as a daisy,’ he said softly.

  ‘And you feel as strong as an oak.’

  He left her there while the going was good. It just wasn’t form to ask a pregnant woman if he could go to bed with her. Let the baby be born first, let a little time elapse while they got used to the idea, and then they would marry. After that there was nothing to stop them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  It was an early spring evening and Meg perceived a fluttering deep inside that she put down to how fresh the air felt and that milder weather was on its way. Buds were sprouting in the apple orchards, the mallards on the village pond were building nests among the reeds and spring lambs had appeared like fallen clouds in the lime-green fields.

  Alice Wickes and her sister had invited Lily to go with them to the pictures in Bath and then stay for a sleepover afterwards. Meg decided it was only polite that she and John should escort her foster daughter to the bus stop and wait there with everyone else for the bus to Bath. After that, they intended walking to the station house where John had promised her a hearty meal was waiting.

  ‘I’ve even got a bottle of wine, though I think Mrs Matthews at the village store has had it in stock since the last war. Still, it might have improved with age.’

  Their route from the bus stop took them past Bluebell Cottage. Everything should have been quiet, but wasn’t. They heard Rudy barking excitedly, a quick outburst like a blast of gunfire.

  ‘He’s missing you. That’s all it is.’

  ‘Rudy never barks for no reason.’

  ‘I would think his missing you is reason enough.’ He hesitated before adding; ‘I’d miss you if you weren’t around.’

  ‘Are you sure Bert Dando is safely locked up?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Tell you what, John. You go on. I’ll check and then catch up with you. How would that be?’

  He touched her shoulder briefly and kissed her cheek. ‘Don’t keep me waiting.’

  A slight breeze brushed at her hair and pinked her cheeks as she hurried up to Bluebell Cottage. The fact that the garden gate was open came as something of a surprise; she was sure she’d shut it. Almost on tiptoe, she hurried up the garden path and pushed open the front door.

  The room was filled with a warm amber light, yet she turned cold. The light was already on, but she was sure she had turned it off before going out. Her gaze alighted on the table lamp on top of the bureau shedding a brave light in a confined pool. Another table lamp sat on the small occasional table to the side of an overstuffed Victorian armchair. Her favourite chair, re-covered in pink rosy chintz that she thought brought the outside garden into the room.

  For a moment she couldn’t move. Someone was sitting in the armchair and at the sight of him all her lovely thoughts about John Carter turned to guilt. The dog, Rudy, lay across his feet but perked up on seeing her. Ray!

  Even sat down, his presence dominated the room. ‘Meg.’

  Meg was transfixed. He wasn’t holding out his arms, yet surely he should have been? Surely he was incredibly happy because he was home. Her feet had felt immersed in clay, but with a great effort she now managed to step forward. ‘Ray?’

  He was wearing his uniform and twirling his cap with both hands, just as he used to do. He looked tired, pouches of skin beneath his eyes. His skin seemed stretched too tightly over his cheekbones. It struck Meg as odd that neither of them was rushing to embrace the other. At one time they would have collided into a traffic jam of limbs, kisses and avid caresses. Not stay still like this.

  ‘Where’s Lily?’

  ‘With a friend. I was going out tonight but then I heard the dog barking and came back. We have had problems in the village, you see.’

  He nodded. ‘Sorry about that. It was my fault. A bit foolish thinking he’d recognise me straightaway. Glad you took him in though. He’s a good dog.’

  Rudy raised himself into sitting position, looking up at Ray in adoration. In response, Ray leaned down and patted him on the head.

  ‘Yes. He is.’

  She saw Ray’s steely gaze take in the changes in a cottage he’d known since boyhood. ‘You’ve certainly got Bluebell Cottage looking trim. Better than trim. Homely, in fact. And you’ve kept the dog. I thought you said you’d never have him in the house. Have you got over your problem with dog hairs?’

  ‘This is the country. Things are different here.’

  ‘I suppose they are. Not like Andover Avenue though, is it? You loved that place.’

  ‘That was then. This is now.’

  Meg frowned. Something was very wrong here. They were speaking in stilted sentences to each other and there’d been no hugs and kisses, nothing like a homecoming was supposed to be. Something had changed and there was one obvious thing above all others.

  ‘Ray. Are you injured? Can you walk? Sorry,’ she blurted. ‘That came out so crass …’

  ‘No. Not at all.’ Ray took a deep breath. ‘The fact is, Meg, I’m not coming home. Not even after the war is over.’

  Meg told herself that this wasn’t happening, that she’d expected an entirely different homecoming – when she’d expected one at all. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘I was badly injured. The plane was hit when I was over there to fly somebody out. My French friends rescued me. Nicole … looked after me. For a very long time, in fact. I’m sorry, Meg, but I have to be honest. Nicole is carrying my child. I cannot abandon her. Once the war is over, I’m going back. I have to stand by her. You understand that, do
n’t you?’

  The look in his eyes appealed for forgiveness. Meg sank on to a nearby chair. Never had her knees felt so weak. She clasped her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her look was intense.

  ‘I used to dream about you coming home. I mean, they told me you were missing presumed dead, but I said to myself, well, that means he might be alive. Sometimes I accepted that you were dead. The rest of the time – less and less as time went on – I hoped and I waited …’

  Him falling in love with somebody else aroused mixed feelings. There was a kind of anger – but not hot and furious. The anger derived from those moments when she’d imagined how his homecoming might be – if he was still alive. In her imagination his strong arms swept her off her feet, such was his delight in finding out they were about to have a child. In the dim light of Bluebell Cottage they sat separately, each in their own space. He didn’t know she was expecting a child. His right to know seemed irrelevant. He wouldn’t be here to see the child grow up because he was opting to stand by another woman and another child.

  With indifferent determination, she plucked at the buttons of her coat. Bought before the war began, its voluminous layers hid her rounded belly. Once all the buttons were undone, it fell away.

  ‘Your French woman isn’t the only one expecting a baby.’

  The grandfather clock beat the seconds that silence reigned. Deep-set eyes stared above gaunt cheekbones as Ray got to his feet, unable to drag his gaze away from what she was showing him.

  ‘Is it mine?’ His voice was small, incredulous.

  The man he had been, and still probably was, would not forsake his own child. She knew that for sure, but did it really matter? He had committed himself elsewhere. Some people, especially her mother, might think she was mad and should determine to continue with her marriage no matter what. She could hear her voice now. ‘The child is his. He has to stand by you and fulfil his responsibilities.’ Meg thought carefully and very quickly about what both of them truly wanted.

  ‘Did you know this woman, Nicole, from other missions?’

  He nodded. ‘We weren’t lovers before, but when I was injured … We’d always been drawn to each other. I’m sorry, Meg. I did love you, but the war …’

  ‘Of course,’ she interjected fiercely. ‘It’s always the war. It bears the blame for a lot of things.’

  ‘The man who brought you home …’ Only half a sentence but she heard the assumption.

  ‘John Carter. His name’s John Carter. He’s a policeman.’

  She sensed where this conversation was going. Ray was asking her if John Carter was the father of the child. The old Meg Malin would have put him straight there and then. The new Meg Malin was less inclined to give him the satisfaction of knowing one way or another. Her new life had taken hold far more quickly than she could ever have imagined. Up until Ray’s reappearance she had coped with this war alone, her only company a refugee child and a dog. She’d got used to living in Upper Standwick, used to the villagers’ kindness and their independent attitude.

  John Carter’s name hung in the air between them until finally Ray’s broad shoulders heaved as though a ton weight had been lifted from each one. ‘Seems I shouldn’t have worried about leaving you alone.’

  Meg managed a weak smile and a non-committal answer. ‘No.’

  Her husband was not a fool; indeed, no man was incapable of working out how many months it had been since they’d gone to bed together, but it all depended what he wished to believe. Ray had made his choice. He wanted Nicole and the baby she was carrying. Meg couldn’t believe how easy she was finding it not to try to persuade him otherwise. Somehow the air was cleared, each laying out a path for the future.

  ‘I won’t let you down,’ he said to her. ‘Everything will be done fairly. I don’t wish for any acrimony. Anyway, it seems as if you, too, have found happiness with someone else, though I know it’s because you believed I was dead. You’ve also got Lily to think about and living in this village.’

  She didn’t ask him what he meant about living in the village, but guessed he thought they were all busybodies who couldn’t mind their own business; she had no wish to disillusion him. Living in a village was as though everyone was related; everyone was family.

  They talked further about the arrangements after they were divorced.

  ‘The rules are that I pay you alimony until such time as you remarry. I can manage that,’ he explained. She knew he could. His father was a director of an insurance company. ‘I presume you’ll stay in the village and not move back to London. You know you can stay here in the cottage if you please. Aunt Lavender has decided to stay up north, but no doubt she’ll be glad of the rent. I’ll pay that too, until such time as you remarry.’ He paused. ‘I presume you will.’

  Meg had a great urge to bang her hands against her ears so she couldn’t hear him racing ahead with all these arrangements. It struck her he wanted to end their marriage as quickly as possible and have all the details tied up with string. Well, she might as well let him get on with it. He wanted to be with his French lover. She wanted … this life … the village … a warm community she’d grown used to and loved, including John.

  ‘Yes. That’s quite acceptable. In fact, I’ve become very fond of Bluebell Cottage, but there is also a police house, which John lives in.’ She instantly wondered what John would think when she told him about this. John being a father to someone else’s child who they now knew was still alive.

  ‘Good,’ said Ray, nodding approvingly. ‘So when’s the baby due?’

  Meg placed a hand on her belly. She felt a pain and also a heaving as the baby prepared to enter the world. She grimaced, her lips stretched taut, showing all her teeth. ‘Right about now.’

  Ray looked as though she’d slapped both sides of his face. His high colour disappeared and his speed crossing the room to the telephone would have put a greyhound to shame. ‘I’ll phone the doctor.’

  Meg pushed a cushion behind her back and leaned more comfortably against it. She would not panic. Ray seemed to be doing quite nicely on his own.

  ‘Yes, Ray. Do that. But once he’s on his way, I want you to leave.’

  One hand on the receiver, he looked back at her; his mouth open and an incomprehensible look in his eyes. To his mind she might very well be expecting another man’s child, but he’d never seen such a glow on her face, such a look in her eyes. ‘You look lovely,’ he said. ‘You really do.’

  After speaking to the doctor, he went back to where he’d been sitting, picked up his overcoat and took out an envelope. ‘This is a letter from the man Lily was supposed to go to. His name’s Daniel Loper. He lives in Cambridge. He’s willing to give Lily – or rather Leah – a home as her father would have wished.’

  Meg turned abruptly, which sent the pain jarring down her spine. She winced but pressed on with what she wanted to ask. ‘But she doesn’t have to live with him?’

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose not. Not if she doesn’t want to.’

  Meg winced as another pain shot through her.

  ‘Look. Can’t this wait until later? One thing at a time, eh?’ His expression was that of a man unwilling to get too embroiled in women’s problems, especially childbirth.

  The look made Meg angry. She clenched her teeth as the pain rolled over her. ‘Don’t you want to stay and see it born? You know, as a prelude to the birth of your French child?’

  His face turned pale. ‘War is more like my bag. Not this. Sorry, but it scares me to hell. I’d better get going.’

  If it wasn’t for the pain she would have laughed loud and long. Her big brave husband was scared by the prospect of being involved with childbirth. But there was one other thing she wanted to know. ‘Wait! One moment. What about her parents? Are they still alive?’

  Ray shook his head.

  ‘Do you know for sure?’

  ‘We now know for sure that the so-called labour camps are death camps.’ He paused and his eyes became hooded. ‘I can�
��t tell you the details.’

  ‘Oh. I suppose it’s more top-secret information.’

  Still wearing the hooded look, he shook his head. ‘No. It’s just too horrible.’

  Once the cottage door was closed behind him he took a great gulp of fresh air. The night smelled acrid, spicy with mud from turned fields and buds bursting from willow and shrub. Soon everything would be bright green with new leaves and the air would be filled with birdsong as they mated and laid their eggs. Everything was being reborn – including his life. That’s how it had felt when he’d closed the door behind him. The old life was gone and as much as a part of him wanted to believe the child was his, he chose not to. He had a new life to go to once the war was over. Nothing, he realised, would ever be the same again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ray Malin was carrying far more guilt than he’d admit to. Nicole, with her peachy complexion and glossy dark hair, haunted both his day and night-time hours. Her dark eyes reflected the colour of the elfin fringe curling around her face. There was something almost childlike about her looks that was not reflected in her character. She was the toughest, most independent woman he had ever met. Not for her the domestic scene or traditional behaviour of a woman waiting for marriage. It hadn’t even mattered to her that he was already married. She had decided she wanted him and told him so. He’d never known a woman to be so outspoken and her breathless non-conformity had tipped the balance. He had ended up wanting her as much as she wanted him.

  Even though it appeared Meg had been unfaithful to him, some small vestige of responsibility remained. Nicole was the love of his life, a passion he could not resist. However, he’d once loved Meg and couldn’t abandon her without making sure she’d be all right. Feeling suddenly colder, he turned up his coat collar, got into his car and drove to the police house.

  He drew the car to a stop outside the station house, took a deep breath and stepped out to confront whatever awaited him. For a moment he paused, one half of him suggesting that it wasn’t his place to vet the man who had slept with his wife. The fact was that he couldn’t help himself. If he didn’t do this, a small amount of guilt would walk with him all the days of his life. It had to be done now.