by Rosie Harris
Helen Woodley accepted Robert’s proposal that the Campbells should pay for the wedding with quiet dignity. Her only stipulation was that her two grandchildren, Ruth’s daughters Sally and Anna, should be bridesmaids.
‘That shouldn’t present any problem,’ Kate assured her. ‘We have no small children in our family. In fact, I hadn’t given any thought to attendants.’
‘They’ve talked of nothing else since the first moment they heard that Lucy was getting married,’ Helen Woodley commented. ‘They have even chosen their dresses!’
Lucy’s wedding dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses were, in fact, the only things Robert didn’t contrive to stage-manage. He organised everything else on a grand scale, pulling rank whenever it was something that had to be ratified by the Guards. The result was fairytale splendour, the kind of wedding most brides dream of having, but seldom achieve.
The magnificence of the Guards’ Chapel made the perfect backdrop, and when the two coaches Robert had hired to transport their own guests arrived the place was packed to capacity.
Kate had remonstrated with Robert about the numbers, afraid there wouldn’t be room for Lucy’s family and friends, but her fears had been groundless. There were so few of them that they occupied only the first three pews on the bride’s side and judging by their age it seemed that they were mostly Lucy’s friends.
Russell was being married in uniform, but owing to the difference in rank, Lucy’s brother-in-law, Sergeant Hugh Edwards, was wearing civilian clothes and so, too, was his friend Sergeant Gary Collins.
Lucy looked breathtakingly lovely when she arrived on the arm of her brother, Mark, who had elected to give her away. He was so very tall and broad that Lucy, in her floating white silk gown, looked almost ethereal beside him. As she moved down the aisle, the soft murmur of voices from the people waiting for the service to begin gave way to gasps of admiration. She carried a posy of white rosebuds, and the filmy lace veil that covered her golden hair was held in place with a matching circlet of rosebuds.
Sally and Anna walked sedately behind Lucy. Sally was wearing an ankle-length dress of dusky pink which contrasted attractively with her dark hair. Anna was dressed in wedgwood blue, which made her shoulder length fair hair appear almost silver. Both of them wore tiny circlets of white rosebuds on their heads and carried matching posies.
The entire ceremony went so smoothly that it could have been a TV spectacular, Kate thought. Afterwards, they all posed outside in the brilliant sunshine, standing on the steps of the Guards’ Chapel while countless cameras whirred and clicked. Lucy, her veil now thrown back, looked radiant as she clung to Russell’s arm.
It was inevitable, that at the reception Lucy’s family were isolated into a small group on their own. Robert made several forays into their midst, jovially exhorting them to enjoy the lavish feast he had organised and insisting their glasses should be kept filled up with the vintage champagne.
Kate cringed inwardly at Robert’s speech. She looked across at Helen Woodley and saw her mouth tighten resentfully when his voice boomed out, ‘Now, we want you all to enjoy yourselves to the full. We can’t take it with us so we may as well spend some of it now. Russell’s our only child dammit, so we want to do him proud and give him the very best send-off we possibly can! Fill up your glasses. If you don’t like champagne then ask for whatever you do like.’
Kate sighed. Robert was so insensitive! It must be difficult enough for Helen Woodley, knowing that her daughter was marrying out of her class, without being patronised by Robert.
It was a long time since she had thought about such matters but Kate now remembered vividly how shocked her own parents had been when she had said she wanted to marry Robert because he had come from a background that was quite different from her own.
She had felt then, and still did, that such things as social position and breeding were not the real issue and that it was the character of the individual that mattered. She was fully aware that other people thought differently and remembered the problems Robert had encountered when he had first become a Guards officer.
She made a mental note to go across and have a few discreet words with Helen Woodley after Russell and Lucy left for their honeymoon in Paris. She would hate for the day to be ruined for her because of Robert’s overpowering condescension. The Guards were particularly class-conscious; and none more than those who had themselves been elevated from the ranks, she thought ruefully, as she watched Robert bombastically fulfilling his role as host.
Chapter 22
‘Captain and Mrs Russell Campbell.’
Lucy felt a tingle of excitement snake down her spine as all eyes in the enormous ballroom turned to watch their entrance. She had taken the utmost care with her appearance and knew she looked a picture of perfection from head to toe.
She paused dramatically, fully aware of the stunning picture she presented in her black lace dress with its billowing skirt flouncing to mid-calf. With deliberate casualness, she moved her head so that her hair danced on her shoulders, catching the light of the chandeliers which made it glisten like molten gold.
The delicate black lace clung to her plump curves invitingly, the low neckline enhancing the soft creamy-whiteness of her arms and throat and exposing a fascinating glimpse of cleavage.
Even in her spiky-heeled black patent sandals her head barely reached Russell’s shoulder. It made other women seem clumsy by comparison.
Russell, resplendent in his red and black Mess dress, gilded with heavy gold braid, stiffened proudly, his sandy head held high, his green eyes arrogant. He, too, was conscious of the impression they were making and, as his arm went round Lucy’s waist possessively, aware that every red-blooded man in the room envied him.
At times like this he felt delighted that he had taken the momentous decision to marry. Lucy could be an enchanting companion and he loved her deeply. It was only when the bills piled up, and Lucy’s demands exceeded what he could afford to provide, that the exhilaration dimmed.
They had been married less than six months, yet already he’d been to his father twice to ask for a loan over and above the allowance he already received.
‘Expensive business being married these days, isn’t it,’ his father guffawed on the second occasion. ‘Never mind, I can’t take it with me!’ he quipped reaching for his cheque book. ‘I’ve added on another couple of hundred. Buy the little lady something from me,’ he added as he signed with a flourish of his gold topped pen. ‘I can see I’ll have to talk to your mother about increasing your allowance, Russell. Utter rubbish, y’know, saying that two can live as cheaply as one! Don’t you agree?’
Russell had taken the cheque with mixed feelings. Relief that he could now pay their bills tinged with a feeling of umbrage that he should need his father’s help in order to support a wife. It wasn’t as if he was extravagant, he thought resentfully. He didn’t gamble, or even bet on the horses.
In the past, of course, there had been only his Mess account to contend with and his army pay had covered that leaving his personal allowance as spending money. Now, he had a place of his own to maintain as well as his Messing bills and he had no idea where all the money went. Lucy seemed to run up enormous bills at Harrods, Heals and Selfridges each month. He hoped that once their home was furnished to her taste then these would ease off. Luckily, they had no mortgage, their flat in Belgravia had been a wedding present from his parents.
There would still be Lucy’s clothes, of course, but as she kept telling him, they did socialise a great deal and to wear the same outfits over and over again would be letting him down.
‘I want you to be proud of me, Russ,’ she pouted, when he had brought the matter up.
Her enormous blue eyes misting with tears, she had looked up into his face contritely and immediately he had felt conscience-stricken. She was so young, so unworldly and so very lovely. Gathering her into his arms, and kissing away her tears, he found himself succumbing to her charms.
When it c
ame to love-making, Lucy was complete fulfilment. And afterwards, if she wanted to go out and buy a whole houseful of new furniture, or half a dozen dresses, he wouldn’t have stopped her. Keeping her happy with material things, in return for the breathtaking satisfaction she brought into his life, was a small price to pay.
Watching her now, as she moved forward gracefully to mingle with his fellow officers, their wives and guests at the New Year’s Eve Ball, Russell felt that 1982 was going to be a momentous year for him. It was certainly starting out well. His promotion to Captain had been confirmed that morning and he could hardly wait to tell his father. He would do so at midnight, when he phoned to wish them a Happy New Year.
Only one thing troubled him. Lucy was not yet nineteen, so was she going to be able to cope with her position as a Captain’s wife?
Although her father had been a regular soldier he had died before she was born so she had no practical experience of what army life entailed. He frowned, remembering the scene just a few weeks earlier when they had invited some of his fellow officers in for pre-Christmas drinks. Lucy had been wildly excited by the prospects of giving a party and it was sheer good fortune that he’d thought to check whose names she’d included on the guest list.
Tears and recriminations had followed when he had told her that under no circumstances could she invite Sergeant Hugh Edwards, her brother-in-law, or Sergeant Gary Collins.
‘You don’t seem to understand, Russ,’ she had pouted. ‘If they don’t come, how can I have my sister Ruth along?’
‘You can’t,’ he told her firmly.
‘What are they going to think,’ she stormed. ‘They’re bound to find out we have had a party.’
‘They won’t expect to be included, they know the rules, and so does your sister,’ he added cuttingly.
‘Sheer snobbery,’ she stormed but he had remained immovable. Protocol simply had to be observed.
‘Do you mean we’re never going to be able to ask them to our parties?’ she had sobbed.
‘Not if there are officers amongst our guests,’ he told her resolutely. ‘If it’s a family get-together then that is another matter.’
Right up until an hour before the party started, Lucy tried to persuade him, even threatening she wouldn’t put in an appearance unless he allowed her to phone Ruth and tell them to come over. When he adamantly refused she dissolved into tears but he had gritted his teeth, hardened his heart, and gone downstairs without her.
Miraculously, by the time the first guests arrived, she had been at his side, looking radiant and showing no traces at all of their traumatic argument.
He had anticipated an outburst after everyone left but Lucy had simply kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the sofa.
‘I’m much too excited to sleep,’ she breathed. ‘Shall we have a nightcap?’
When he handed her a brandy, she had patted the cushion invitingly and looked up lovingly into his eyes, clinking her glass against his and breathing triumphantly, ‘To the success of our first party.’
‘And the prettiest hostess in London,’ he responded gallantly as they sipped their drinks.
Neither of them had mentioned the matter since and, as he gathered her tenderly in his arms at midnight to welcome in 1982, Russell fervently hoped she now clearly understood the situation and that there would be no more unpleasantness.
He had realised before he married that having a brother-in-law who was merely a sergeant, and in his own Regiment to boot, could be embarrassing. As a highly-trained, seasoned soldier, Hugh Edwards had been equally concerned and had realised that it would be impossible to openly fraternise.
Mrs Woodley, too, had expressed reservations when he had asked if he might marry Lucy, knowing how strict the army could be about such matters.
His own father had bluntly denounced the idea as preposterous when he learned about Lucy’s brother-in-law.
‘A sergeant in your own Regiment, my boy!’ he exclaimed aghast. ‘You’ll find that dashed awkward, won’t you? I know things are a lot more relaxed than they were when I was serving, but all the same there’s discipline to consider, y’know.’
‘I can handle it.’
Even when he had assured his father, Colonel Campbell looked worried and related numerous harrowing anecdotes of fellow officers he had known who’d ‘breached the gap’ and married actresses or shop-girls. But even he had never heard of an officer marrying the sister-in-law of a sergeant in his own Regiment!
Colonel Campbell’s opposition, however, was overcome the moment he met his future daughter-in-law. As Lucy rested her tiny hand in his massive one, and raised her big blue eyes trustingly, it seemed his heart had softened and he couldn’t do enough to smooth their path, buying them a flat in Mayfair as well as paying for their wedding.
And his father was still spoiling her, Russell reflected, as he caught the scintillating glint of the gold and crystal necklet and earrings Lucy was wearing which his parents had sent her for Christmas.
The Ball ended at four in the morning and after enjoying a hearty champagne breakfast they made their way home. As he closed the front door, shutting out the crisp clear dawn that was heralding the first day of the New Year, Russell drew Lucy into his arms, and found her warm and responsive.
His hands slid down over the soft lace of her dress, he could feel the tantalising warmth of her body through the seductive material, and his overwhelming desire for her wiped everything else completely from his mind.
‘I love you, my darling, more than anything in this world,’ he murmured softly into her ear. His lips moved slowly over the peachy softness of her cheek to find the generous sweetness of her mouth.
Her breathy moan of pleasure fired his loins. Fumbling in his eagerness, he slid her lace dress off her satin-smooth shoulders, burying his face in the creamy fullness of her breasts.
While he saluted each rose-tipped nipple, she wriggled off her dress, and the black lace panties she was wearing under it, kicking them aside. Then, with nimble fingers she began undoing the pearl buttons on his frilled white shirt. When she slipped her small cool hands inside it to tease the sandy mat of hair that covered his chest, he was filled with a frenzy of desire.
Still clasping her body to his, Russell began feverishly to shed his shirt and shoes and remove his trousers, before urgently lowering her onto the carpet. His lips found hers again and as the moist tip of her tongue crept into his mouth Russell felt a surging passion, a fierce desperate urgency to possess her completely.
They responded to each other’s touch in perfect accord. As her arms reached up and circled his neck, his entire body was aflame. He could feel her nipples hardening with desire as they pressed into his chest. A tremendous heat burned inside him, building up greater and greater, until his nerve ends were so sensitive that he almost cried out with the pain. He could restrain himself no longer. His excitement mounting to fever pitch, he entered her with an exultant cry, discovering a strange, wondrous rhythm that united them as never before. And the last delicious shuddering moments came on them simultaneously. Utterly spent, he rolled onto his side completely exhausted.
With a small sigh of contentment, Lucy snuggled even deeper into his arms. He reached out for her fur coat, which she had slung down on one of the armchairs when they had come in, and pulled it over them. Satiated and warmly cocooned, they slept.
Chapter 23
They had been married for almost nine months before Russell took Lucy to visit his parents. It was his first leave since their honeymoon. Immediately after being made up to Captain, at the end of December, he had been sent on a course which had lasted well into February. On his return he had been assigned to a new unit and his leave postponed.
‘You’ll love Walford Grange in the springtime,’ Russell assured her ‘and we’ll be there all over Easter.’
‘I had planned to go and see my mother over Easter weekend,’ Lucy protested plaintively.
‘You spent three weeks with her while I was away o
n my course,’ Russell reminded her. ‘It’s time you visited my parents,’ he added firmly.
Lucy had mixed feelings about what lay ahead. She had met Colonel Campbell twice since their wedding day. On the first occasion he had looked over their new home as if carrying out an inspection. The second meeting had been for a drink in the Mess before he’d gone off to a Regimental Dinner.
With his ramrod back, and bristling ginger moustache, he was an older version of Russell and she had already discovered she could twist him round her little finger with just one of her winsome smiles.
Russell’s mother, however, was an unknown quantity and remembering the elegant designer outfit she had worn to their wedding, and knowing that she came from a titled family, Lucy felt very much in awe of her and anxious about what clothes she ought to take on holiday.
‘You’ve lived in the country most of your life, my love, so you must know the sort of clothes to pack,’ Russell told her when she had questioned him as to what she should take.
‘I usually wore jeans and sweaters,’ she told him. ‘I’m sure that’s not how your mother will expect me to dress, not now that you are a Captain.’
‘I understand Captain Mark Phillips’ wife often wears jeans,’ he told her with a roguish grin.
‘She might, after all no one can criticise her,’ Lucy said crossly. ‘You might try and be more helpful, Russ, I shall be meeting all your friends for the very first time and on their ground, not mine. If I’m not dressed right then I shall feel awful,’ she pouted and her blue eyes misted over.
‘They will love you whatever you’re wearing,’ he assured her, pulling her into his arms and silencing her protests with his lips.
But Lucy was not to be pacified. Her background was so different from Russell’s that she felt it was important to have the right clothes. She bought a new suit in cream tweed, then worried whether it would be warm enough for late March so added a cashmere sweater, the exact shade of blue as her eyes, and an enormous cream and blue mohair scarf.
