by Anne Weale
She had known he was going to find out. How could it be otherwise? But she’d thought it would only be afterwards that he would realise she had been a virgin. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might find out earlier, that she would have to tell him.
‘I’m not. It’s just...I haven’t done this before.’
She had wondered how he would react when he found out and assumed that, apart from being surprised, he wouldn’t have any strong feelings on the subject. Her father’s generation still seemed to have a problem accepting that aspect of equality. Younger men took it for granted that women had all the same rights to freedom that they did.
‘Are you saying that you’ve never made love?’
‘Yes.’
What happened next was totally unexpected. His arm arched above her head and he snapped on one of the reading lights.
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, his voice no longer an amorous murmur but an angry growl.
Taken aback by his abrupt change of mood, Fran said, ‘I didn’t think it mattered.’
That made him spring off the bed, snatching up the towel and wrapping it rapidly round him.
Fran had nothing to cover herself with, nor did she want to. After his tender exploration of her body, why should she want to hide it from him? But as lying down while he was standing made him look even taller and more forbidding, she hitched herself into a sitting position.
‘You didn’t think it mattered!” Reid repeated her statement in a tone of savage sarcasm.
‘Why should it? What’s the difference?’
‘The difference is that you lied to me,’ he snarled at her.
‘I did not lie! The subject never came up.’
‘You lied by default...knowing damn well I thought you had some experience.’
‘Well, I haven’t,’ she snapped back, ‘and some men would think it a plus. I don’t understand your problem with it.’
For a fraction of a second he looked at her rather blankly. But perhaps she had only imagined it. An instant later, he said coldly, ‘I don’t like being taken for a ride. If—’
He stopped short at the sound of someone rapping on the wall behind the bedhead, reminding them both what time it was and that for the last few minutes they had been speaking in raised voices.
‘We’ll talk in the morning,’ Reid said, resuming an undertone.
But instead of getting into bed and lying down with his back to her, as she expected, he began to get dressed.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, in a baffled whisper.
‘Out...it will be light soon. Go back to sleep,’ he instructed.
‘You have to be joking!’ she hissed.
Reid gave her a dark brooding glance then continued dressing, his every movement expressive of silent fury.
When he had gone, Fran got out of bed to replace the bedclothes and put on her nightdress. He had left her in a state of physical and mental turmoil. The only thing to be done about it for the time being was to take a leaf out of Gran’s book and make herself a calming cup of tea.
By the time it was fully light, she had made and drunk three cups of tea and was feeling a lot more composed and equal to handling her husband when he decided to come back.
The possibility that he might not come back, or only to pick up his things and inform her the marriage was over, had crossed her mind briefly. But after a moment’s thought, she had dismissed it. Maybe non-consummation was grounds for divorce when it was the result of some physical problem or the bride’s refusal to participate. But if the bride was willing and it was the groom who had a hang-up, then it would be up to her to have the marriage annulled.
Which is not what I want, thought Fran.
Although it was still very early and everyone else in the building, except possibly a cleaner, would be asleep, she had a bath and dressed in jeans and white tee shirt, one of a stack she had bought on a shopping spree in Hong Kong. They had been her best bargain, being intended for Chinese workmen which made them a nice snug fit.
By the time she had done her face, although the valley was still in the shadow of the mountains to the east, the sun had reached the high pastures. The cloudless sky overhead signalled it was going to be a lovely day...at least weather-wise.
Wondering where Reid had gone, Fran decided that, rather than hanging about metaphorically biting her nails until he chose to return, she would go out herself.
The patron’s wife was already bustling about downstairs. They said ‘Bonjour, madame’ to each other. Fran wondered if she was being over-sensitive in feeling the Frenchwoman was watching her with a beady eye as she went out of the door.
Would the people in the room next door complain to Madame about being disturbed? she wondered, following the direction they had taken yesterday evening. Well, that was the least of her worries. Making peace with Reid was the only thing that really mattered.
It concerned her that, having been out most of the night, he should still be up and about, instead of catching up on his sleep in a comfortable bed.
Whatever their temporary differences, as Gran had told her, from now on her primary function was to make life easy and, if possible, happy for him.
A few days before the, to her mind, soulless performance at the register office, she had reread the marriage service in the Book of Common Prayer presented to her mother on the day of her confirmation. Its contents included the Form of Solemnization of Matrimony in the old-fashioned wording in use then, phrases that read like poetry.
Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband... Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?
The promise she would have made, had they been married in church in Mum’s day, or Gran’s day, would have been, I Francesca take thee Reid to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part... and thereto I give thee my troth.
Fran had read those vows for the first time when she was fifteen, dreaming of marriage to Julian. They were still the words she associated with marriage; the promises which, in her heart, she had made in the register office.
Even the word ‘obey’ didn’t bother her. Her feeling was that if you were sharing your life with a man and the chips were down—the ship sinking, the aircraft on fire, a madman with an axe breaking down the front door—you expected your guy to be capable of handling the situation, giving orders which you, and anyone else who happened to be around, would be only too pleased to obey.
By the time she reached the little stone bridge over the river, the sun was catching the ripples and making them shine. The air smelt of green vegetation with a faint whiff of the farmyard.
Further along the bank on the village side, there was a wooden bench where, last evening, two elderly men in Basque-style berets had been having a chat.
Now it was occupied by a younger man, his long frame bent at the knees to fit between the cast-iron armrests at either end.
As Fran hurried towards him, she guessed he had sat down to watch the river and only later decided to catch some shut-eye. The gilet he had been wearing when he stormed out of the bedroom was now folded under his head and his arms were folded across his midriff.
Like most people, sleeping he looked much younger. But there was the trace of a frown between his dark eyebrows, as if he had still been angry when sleep overtook him.
She wondered how long it would be before he woke up. She didn’t intend to disturb him, only to hang about until he woke up naturally. It didn’t seem likely he’d sleep for long on a couple of planks.
There was nowhere for her to sit except on the dewdamp grass. Her sneakers making no sound, she walked up and down the path, rehearsing what she would say when he woke up.
Then a local appeared, carrying a bucket. She could see he was going to speak to he
r so she put her finger to her lips as Reid had when she woke up. The man seemed to understand the gesture. She hoped that, despite looking a bit simple-minded, he would pass Reid without making a noise.
Instead, after peering at the recumbent foreigner so closely that she thought his heavy breathing might wake Reid, he straightened, saying something in an incomprehensible local accent before crackling with raucous laughter at his own, probably lewd, comment. Reid stirred and looked up at him before saying something that sounded like a French expletive.
The man looked aggrieved but didn’t argue. As he shambled away, Reid sat up, rubbing his hands over his eyes, then stretching his arms above his head and flexing his shoulders.
‘Good morning,’ Fran said quietly, from the other end of the bench.
He didn’t look pleased to see her. She hadn’t expected he would.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Looking for you. What else? I was worried about you.’
He glanced at his watch, then rubbed a hand over his jaw. ‘I’ll need to shave before breakfast.’
‘If you have any sense you’ll go back to bed until lunchtime. I can amuse myself.’
‘I may do that.’ He stood up.
‘Reid...I’m sorry about last night.’ She lifted her chin to look him squarely in the eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to mislead you, but I still can’t see what difference it makes.’
‘You can’t, hmm? Then I’ll spell it out for you. There are cultures where sexual inexperience is a plus. It used to be that way in ours. Not any more. I thought I was marrying a woman who knew what it was all about... not someone who had no idea.’
‘You make it sound something incredibly difficult that takes years to learn. That’s ridiculous. Any fool can do it.’
‘They can and they do,’ he said grimly. ‘But if they were getting it right there would be fewer divorces and most of the shrinks and sexologists would be out of business. I didn’t expect to have a tyro on my hands.’
Determined not to be routed, she said, ‘I should have thought that was preferable to having a man-eater on your hands. At least I shan’t be able to make any odious comparisons if your expertise as a lover falls short of perfection.’
She expected a crushing rejoinder. To her surprise, an unwilling smile softened the set of his mouth.
After a moment, he said, ‘You have a point there, I suppose.’
For the rest of the way he was silent and Fran thought it best to hold her tongue. Back at La Terrasse he went upstairs to shave and she flipped through some French magazines from a basket of visitors’ discards at the foot of the stairs.
Presently he came down and they went in to breakfast, soon to be joined by Jenny who said she could never sleep past her usual getting-up time but Ben was still dead to the world. She expected him to stay that way for several hours more.
‘Why don’t you two take the car and have a look round the shops in Oloron-Sainte-Marie?’ Reid suggested. ‘By the time you get back, Ben and I will be back on form.’
‘Good idea,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Are you happy with that, Francesca?’
When they came back at lunchtime, they found the men in the garden at the back of La Terrasse, drinking lager and talking about climbing.
Ben suggested spending the afternoon as a foursome, but Jenny, who had found out the Kennards were on their honeymoon said, ‘These two are newly-weds. I’m sure they’d like the rest of the day on their own.’
Rather to Fran’s surprise, Reid didn’t contradict her. They had a light lunch together and then the others went off and he and she were alone.
‘Shall we go for a walk?’ he suggested. ‘It would be a good idea to try out your boots.’
In their room they both changed into shorts. When she had put on the boots, Reid laced them for her. As he half knelt at her feet, one knee on the floor, she was intensely conscious of how the day had begun.
It would be so easy to put her arms round his neck and, when he looked up, to lean forward and kiss him. It felt like the right thing to do, but it might be the wrong thing. Perhaps it was wiser to wait and leave the initiative to him.
They walked for about an hour before he suggested a rest stop. Before they left the hotel he had made a flask of tea and, on the way out of town, had bought a large bar of chocolate.
Fran sat on the grass, her back against a felled tree trunk, and watched him opening his rucksack. She wondered what he was thinking. Even though the place where they were had beautiful views on all sides, she couldn’t relax and enjoy them. Her mind was focused on her relationship with him. But perhaps, being a man, with a mind that worked in a different way, he had closed off the compartment reserved for emotion and sex, and was thinking only about their tea break.
‘How do your feet feel?’ he asked.
‘Fine. The boots still feel a little strange, but perfectly comfortable.’
‘You’ll soon get used to them.’ He handed her a plastic cup and four squares of chocolate.
‘Thanks.’ She bit into the chocolate, watching a herd of cows grazing in a meadow further down the hillside. As the chocolate melted on her tongue, she remembered his kisses, an even more sensuous experience.
She wished he would kiss her again but a quick glance in his direction showed him looking stern and remote.
‘I’ve been thinking it over,’ he said. ‘For someone of your age never to have had a lover, there has to be a powerful reason. There are two possibilities.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘One is that you’re a convert to the cult of celibacy...’
He paused, obviously expecting her to confirm or deny it. Would he believe her if she said yes? Somehow she didn’t think so and anyway she wasn’t comfortable lying. She shook her head.
‘Or you’ve been saving yourself for one particular man.’
‘Something like that,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s over...it’s finished.’
‘Why?’
‘He married someone else.’
‘Do you still love him?’
She hesitated. It wasn’t a simple yes or no answer. You didn’t stop loving people because they were unattainable. At the same time there was no point in breaking your heart over someone you could never have. Life was too short, too precious, to be wasted on vain regrets.
‘Well?’ Reid’s tone was impatient.
‘I’m getting over it,’ she said.
‘You should have told me,’ he said curtly. ‘You’re guilty of false pretences.’
Her green eyes sparkled indignantly. ‘I am not! Love wasn’t part of the deal...on either side. For all I know, you might have suggested this marriage because you were in the same boat...in love with someone you could never have.’
‘In that case I should have told you...been straight with you.’
‘And I should have told you that I didn’t want to know... that your past is your business... not mine. Anyway what’s done is done.’
Her simmering temper boiled over. ‘Really your only beef is that I’m not experienced. Well, tough! You should have read the small print more carefully. Your investigator did tell you I’d been “extremely discreet”. That should have given you a clue that my qualifications didn’t include a long list of torrid affairs and the expertise of a call-girl.’
‘Calm down...have some more chocolate.’ Reid tossed the bar towards her.
Fran caught it and threw it back, aiming to hit his chest. To her annoyance he fielded it, her childish retaliation only serving to amuse him.
She was tired, she realised. Not as tired as he had been earlier. But she’d still lost several hours’ sleep, besides being put through the wringer emotionally.
Draining her plastic cup, she scrambled up. ‘If you don’t mind I’m going back. I’d like some time on my own.’ She put the cup by the flask.
‘Are you sure you can find the way?’
She knew it was his intention to return to the village by a loop and they were about halfway along it.
; ‘Don’t worry: I have an excellent sense of direction. I’ll see you back at the ranch.’
Reid watched her walk away, her back very straight and the set of her shoulders indicative of barely contained rage.
Her shorts showed off her long legs. On some girls the combination of good legs with walking boots and rolled-down thick socks could be sexier than sheer tights and high heels.
He had once had a brief affair with a French climber met on a difficult rock climb in Spain’s Picos de Europa mountains. They had had a great deal in common, but she had been on home leave from a job in Africa so there had been no future in it.
Now he was saddled with a wife whose passionate mouth and self-confident walk had misled him into expecting an enthusiastic bed-partner, but who turned out to be carrying a torch for someone else.
It showed she had a lot of character and that, in the long run, was good. A woman with a mind of her own was preferable to a dim-wit who followed the herd.
But someone burdened with the emotional baggage of an unhappy romance was more than he had bargained for. Nor had he ever expected to have to deflower a virgin, for God’s sake.
Reid re-packed his rucksack and stood up. She might have a good sense of direction as she claimed, but forest tracks looked different in reverse and, in her present mood, she might easily take a wrong turning. He would have preferred to go on according to plan, but felt he should follow her down and make sure she didn’t get lost.
Setting a leisurely pace so as not to overtake her, he was torn between annoyance at her stupid deception and unwilling sympathy for her.
At the beginning he had thought she was marrying him to maintain her easy way of life. Now he suspected her main motive had been to spare her mother from the consequences of the bankruptcy. For different reasons, he had felt the same way about his father. But the solution for him hadn’t been as drastic as the one she had grabbed.
At least we have that in common, he thought sombrely. We are both in a trap.
Back at the hotel, Fran took off the boots and lay down, hoping it would be a while before Reid reappeared. As a relaxation exercise she closed her eyes and forced herself not to think about anything but an imaginary dot in the centre of a blank page.
