Read Always I'Ll Remember Online
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
Always I'Ll Remember (10 page)
Father Finlay had demanded - and demanded was the right word for his imperious manner - to have a meeting with James, and it was then that Abby realised just how much she had changed. She had looked steadily at the man she had been terrified of all her life and for the first time she saw him for what he was - a man like any other. She refused Father Finlay’s demand - what right had he to subject James to what at best would be an interrogation? - and the priest had left the house in a huff, with her mother flapping at his coat-tails.
Her father’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘You going for a run in the country again, lass?’ he asked, and she knew he was trying to pour oil on troubled waters.
She nodded, but before she could speak her mother said with some satisfaction, ‘According to the postmistress it won’t be long before they’ll stop such jaunts. Petrol will be needed for better things than waltzing about in fancy cars on a Sunday afternoon.’
Abby was on the point of firing back when the gravity of the day swept over her anew. Instead of responding to her mother’s sniping she remained quiet and walked out into the backyard with Clara. It was a perfect September day. The sky was blue and cloudless and somewhere high in the thermals a lark was singing.
Abby sighed. It seemed incredible war could have been declared on such a beautiful Sunday morning but already things were different. Normally the back lane would be ringing with the shouts of bairns playing their games in the ridges of dried mud and dust, but today there was an ominous silence. Everyone had been glued to their wirelesses since early morning, and the only life she could see was a solitary black cat stalking along a wall some distance away.
Oh James, James. She wished he was here right this minute. She hugged Clara to her. Although he’d said little about his intentions should war be declared, she knew from comments he’d made to some of his friends that he would enlist. They all would. Which was probably why she’d taken a leaf out of her mam’s book and buried her head in the sand. Even in the last couple of days, when the country had been under blackout regulations and the town hall clock light extinguished and its chimes silenced, she’d told herself Hitler would back down at the last moment.
‘Am I going to get any help with the vegetables or not? And put her down, for goodness sake. She’s not a baby.’
Her mother’s voice from the doorway behind her caused Abby’s mouth to tighten, but again she bit back the sharp rejoinder which came to mind. One half of the world seemed intent on invading and destroying the other half, and all her mam cared about was the Sunday dinner.
The toot of a car horn outside announced James was early. Abby jumped up from the kitchen table, only for Nora to snap, ‘You, sit down and finish your dinner. He can wait.’
Abby did not answer her mother but glanced towards her father, and when he gave an almost imperceptible nod, saying, ‘Let her go. No one wants to eat the day,’ she fairly flew into the hall.
Clara had been sick just before dinner and was now asleep in bed, so when Abby shot out of the house it was only she who climbed into the car.
‘That was quick.’ James bent forward and kissed her but did not prolong the embrace, being only too aware of staring eyes and flapping ears up and down the street. Now the shock of Chamberlain’s speech had diminished and Sunday dinner was over, most people had gathered on their doorsteps to discuss the war. Since courting Abby he had come to understand that although Felstead Crescent was only a mile or so from Rose Street, it could have been another country. There were two doctors, a solicitor and several businessmen of high standing living in the Crescent, and everyone - at least outwardly - minded their own business. But in the last twelve months he’d learned enough to know that any gossip right on their own doorstep would hold more appeal for Abby’s neighbours than Hitler’s possible strategies.
‘Da’s home for a few days.’
It was explanation enough and James nodded. He had tried his best to win Abby’s mother over in the early days of his relationship with her daughter, but had eventually admitted defeat, coming to the conclusion it was less traumatic for all concerned if he didn’t come into the house. Sometimes Nora managed to delay Abby for fifteen minutes or more before she was able to join him, but he did not mind this. He would wait all day for Abby. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked, starting the engine. ‘About the war, I mean.’
‘Awful.’ She waited until they were clear of Rose Street before she said, ‘How about you?’
‘The same, I suppose.’
No, he didn’t. Abby glanced at him. There had been a bubble of excitement he couldn’t quite hide in his voice. Fear for him turned her stomach over but her voice was calm enough when she said, ‘I suppose you’ll join up now.’
‘Would you mind?’
Of course she’d mind. She’d mind more than she could ever say. She smoothed the skirt of her pale pink georgette dress over her knees. She had made it from a pattern she’d found in one of the latest magazines and had been dying for James to see her in it all week. Now it didn’t matter.
He glanced at her, one hand going out to cover hers briefly before he brought it back to the steering wheel. ‘Look, we’ll discuss it over a pot of tea a bit later, all right? At our place.’
‘Our place’ was a sixteenth-century-style inn they’d found early on in their courting days, tastefully furnished with antiques and serving afternoon teas. The two of them were a favourite with the landlady and she always found them a table, however busy it was.
That afternoon James put himself out to be even more entertaining than usual and Abby’s mood lifted. But later, when they were sitting at a table overlooking the inn’s pretty Victorian garden, all her fears flooded back. The gleaming silver teapot, lovely crockery, crisp damask tablecloth and the black and white uniforms of the maids failed to hold their normal appeal; even the buttered teacakes kept hot in silver dishes and delicious cream and jam cakes tasted like sawdust. James, however, tucked in with as much gusto as usual so she waited until he had finished his fifth teacake before she said flatly, ‘You’re going to join up, aren’t you?’
‘Sweetheart, don’t look like that.’ He reached across the table and took her hands in his. ‘We’ve got to face facts here. The call-up for men of my age is probably going to come in a month or so and I’d rather not wait till then. Call it pride or whatever, but I’d rather enlist before I’m forced to. I can’t explain it any better than that. But I don’t want to leave you. Of course I don’t want to leave you.’
His hands were warm and strong. Abby looked down at their entwined fingers and found it hard to imagine his would soon be holding a gun. Nevertheless, in spite of how she was feeling, she could see he had a point even if she did think male pride was the most stupid thing on earth. James wasn’t in a reserved occupation or a member of the clergy, and he was twenty-four years old. It would be expected he would fight.
‘What if they find something wrong with you?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘Nothing serious,’ she added quickly, aware she was tempting fate. ‘Just something that prevents you being accepted.’
‘Oh, sweetheart, come on.’ He smiled slowly. ‘I don’t think that’s at all likely, do you?’
No, she didn’t. She stared at him forlornly. Her James fighting people, hurting people,
killing
them? It was madness. He’d never hurt a fly. The only time she had ever seen another side to him, a darker side, had been when he’d taken her to meet his parents and his mother had been somewhat offhand with her. He had been angry that day and hadn’t tried to brush over the incident but had faced his mother head on, much to Abby’s embarrassment. But his mother was a snob, Abby had known that as soon as she’d set eyes on Mrs Benson, just as she’d known James’s father was lovely with no side to him at all. Mind, to give his mother her due, Mrs Benson had made an effort over the last months. It was probably partly for James’s sake and partly because Dr Benson made her so welcome, rather than that the older woman had begun to warm to her, but that didn’t matter if it made for an easy atmosphere.
killing
them? It was madness. He’d never hurt a fly. The only time she had ever seen another side to him, a darker side, had been when he’d taken her to meet his parents and his mother had been somewhat offhand with her. He had been angry that day and hadn’t tried to brush over the incident but had faced his mother head on, much to Abby’s embarrassment. But his mother was a snob, Abby had known that as soon as she’d set eyes on Mrs Benson, just as she’d known James’s father was lovely with no side to him at all. Mind, to give his mother her due, Mrs Benson had made an effort over the last months. It was probably partly for James’s sake and partly because Dr Benson made her so welcome, rather than that the older woman had begun to warm to her, but that didn’t matter if it made for an easy atmosphere.
They said little on the way home, but when James parked the car in one of the secluded leafy lanes they had discovered, Abby found their lovemaking bitter-sweet.
She returned his kisses and caresses as passionately as ever, but this time there was a desperation to their petting which had never been there before, removing all restraints. Her need of him was spiralling up through her body in shuddering gasps and she clung to him, shutting out all thoughts of what the future might hold. James was telling her she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that he loved her more than life itself - and he was going away to war. He could be injured or worse, and she wouldn’t be able to bear it. She knew she wouldn’t. What would she do if she lost him? How would she get through the rest of her life?
It was James, more experienced and fearful of what the consequences might be for the woman he loved, who prevented their coming together, but he did it tenderly, making sure she realised how much she meant to him. ‘I love you more than I imagined it was possible to love someone, you know that, don’t you? And nothing will separate us, my darling. You have to believe that.’
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Abby continued to cling to him as they sat quietly now in the car, the last birdsong poignant in the scented twilight. She stroked the fine blond hairs on the back of his hand, telling herself she must not cry. Then, sitting up straighter, she pressed his fingers. ‘When you go, you will write to me?’
‘Every single day.’ He smiled, stroking her face gently. ‘And don’t forget, I’ll be home on leave now and again. It might not be so bad, darling.’
It would be horrible. She nodded slowly. ‘No, I know. And . . . and I do understand how you feel, James. I suppose it’s just that I’ve been spoiled, seeing you at the office every day and in the evenings too. It’s been nice.’
‘Wonderful,’ he agreed softly, grinning as he added, ‘But they do say absence makes the heart grow even fonder.’
‘That would be impossible.’ She felt she was drowning in the deep blue of his eyes as her own misted. ‘I love you so much already.’ He would never be able to understand how he had changed her life. Having someone there who was totally for her, who listened and understood and loved her. Her da had always loved her, of course, but being away as much as he had been all through her life she had never been able to rely on him being there when she needed him. It was as if James was the other part of her, that was the only way she could describe the closeness she felt with him.
‘Sweetheart, one day when we’re old and grey we’ll look back at this evening and wonder why we felt so miserable,’ he assured her tenderly. ‘We’ll look at our grandchildren playing about our feet and marvel at the years we’ve had together. I promise you.’
But he couldn’t really promise her. She stared into the dear face in front of her and tried to smile. Because no one knew how this war was going to end and what would happen to the men and women involved in it.
By the time the car drew up outside 12 Rose Street, Abby felt so emotionally drained she just gave James a quick kiss and got out of the car. She waved as he drove off. Although the day had been warm, the night was cool, and she shivered as the car turned the corner and disappeared from view.
Suddenly the one person in all the world she wanted to speak to was Winnie, but she wouldn’t be seeing her until Tuesday evening when they had planned to go to the cinema as a foursome, for Winnie now had a steady lad too. He was a bit of a rough diamond, was Lonnie Johnson, being a docker whose family lived in a less than salubrious part of the East End, but as James had said after he first met Lonnie, he was pure salt of the earth.
Abby glanced at the dainty silver wristwatch James had bought her for Christmas. Ten o’clock. Too late to do anything other than go to bed but sleep had never seemed so far away.
Chapter Six
I
t was nearly eleven o’clock before James walked into the office the next morning and the moment Abby looked at his face she knew what he had done. He didn’t immediately make his way to Mr Hardcastle to offer his excuses for being late as would normally be expected, instead he glanced over to where she was engaged in giving Felicity Cook some work and inclined his head.
t was nearly eleven o’clock before James walked into the office the next morning and the moment Abby looked at his face she knew what he had done. He didn’t immediately make his way to Mr Hardcastle to offer his excuses for being late as would normally be expected, instead he glanced over to where she was engaged in giving Felicity Cook some work and inclined his head.
‘When do you go?’ She spoke as soon as she reached him; there was no point in pretending.
‘We leave for training within three days. I’m going to tell them all in a minute but I wanted to talk to you first.’
They stared at each other.
‘There was no point in dragging it out, Abby. Mother fairly hit the roof last night when I told her what I wanted to do, and I made up my mind then it had to be done immediately. She came up with a whole host of reasons why it was better to wait until I was called up.’
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