For All Our Tomorrows (14 page)

Hugh was furious. He stormed back inside and slammed shut the pub door, swearing profoundly. Fortunately, the place was still deserted, it not quite being opening time. Iris looked up with a half smile, having been thoroughly entertained by the entire performance. She sidled over to him and smoothed a hand over his chest, fiddling with one of the buttons on his waistcoat with her long, painted fingernails. ‘Has she guessed you were with me on the quay, do you think?’

‘Of course not, but we’ll have to be more careful in future. She’s not entirely stupid.’

Iris twiddled some more with the button. ‘There’s still half an hour before opening. Plenty of time to get rid of all that surplus energy.’

Hugh had only to look at her to be filled with lust. Maybe it was the lushness of her breasts, clearly visible above the low-cut blouse she wore; the pout of her full, pink lips; the provocative swing of her walk; or simply the way she had of looking at him that made him feel as if he were the only man in the world who was important. He’d never experienced anything like this in his life before.

He’d thought himself fortunate to win Sara but this was entirely different. This was nothing like the clean, honest adoration that he felt for his wife. There were things Iris was prepared to do, and let him do to her, that he wouldn’t dream of trying with Sara. He quailed at even mentioning such matters to her. But with Iris he could say and do what he liked.

He grabbed hold of her and pushed her into the stock room where he had her French knickers off within seconds and was inside her in a flash, thumping into her as hard as he could. Not that she objected. On the contrary, Iris was game for anything. Sometimes, as now, she gave a little startled cry as he first entered her, but mainly she just giggled and always egged him on for more.

‘You can have me again later, if you want,’ she said, on a breathless little gasp after he’d expelled himself and all of his anger into her. ‘We could meet on your boat and - talk - some more. There’s a little scheme I want to put to you.’

‘I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. Someone might see us. Your place is better.’

‘Don’t be silly. Deaf, blind and dumb they are round here. We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now, and who’s noticed? Not a bleeding soul. Too wrapped up in worrying about whether the butcher has any sausages.’

He was wanting her again right now, even as she smoothed her stockings and adjusted her suspenders, pulling her skirt high as she did so to reveal a tantalising length of pale thigh. God, what risks wouldn’t he take to be with her?

But would he risk his marriage, Sara, his unblemished reputation?

He didn’t care to say, not right at this moment. What he did know was that he wanted to drag her down to the floor and ravish her all over again among the beer slops.

Hugh half glanced at his watch and sadly admitted that there simply wasn’t time. Customers were probably even now lining up at the door. He swiftly buttoned up his trousers and straightened his tie.

‘What little scheme is this, that you want to talk to me about then? Tell me now, quickly, before Sara gets back.’

Iris tapped his nose with the tip of one pink nail. ‘Not now. Later. It’s a very sensitive subject. Anyway, you’ve managed to give her the slip so far. One more night won’t make any difference, will it? And I’ll make it worth your while.’

Iris sat in the cramped quarters of Hugh’s small boat and explained in a quiet, firm voice, quite different from the flirtatious one she used with the Yanks in the bar, how he could be of use to his country.

‘Airmen and POWs get trapped behind enemy lines and need to be shipped back to Britain, and agents selected for operations overseas are taken out undercover of darkness in small boats such as yours to rendezvous with the French fishing fleet.’

Hugh was astounded, bemused. His mind fixed on stripping her naked and having her just as many times as he could manage, was not in the mood for a lecture on warfare. ‘Hold it, I’m not taking this in. What on earth are you talking about?’

Iris continued as if he had not interrupted. ‘The folk of Cornwall are experts at secret operations at sea. In the past there have always been innocent-looking boats slipping in and out of quiet creeks and estuaries, brandy and silks being brought ashore right under the noses of the customs men. So why not follow the same routine, only this time with people. It happens all the time.’

‘What does?’ She seemed to be changing before his eyes, no longer the empty-headed, luscious Iris he knew at all, but a coldly calculating operator.

‘We take them out and when they’ve done their intelligence work, we bring them back. We also ship out people used for sabotage and disruption in German-held territory, and get people out in a hurry, if needs be.’

‘What the hell is all this? What are you saying?’

‘That you’ve been chosen as a possible candidate for seeing these men make their rendezvous. The Free French operate from creeks further down the coast, there’s no need for you to know exactly where, but it would demand some coastal runs, or short trips out to sea to meet up with the fleet. A boat such as yours can do that quite easily, so long as you’re careful.’

Not for a moment had he ever imagined her like this. Hugh was completely taken aback by this new side to Iris Logan. Yet he found himself flattered that he should be selected for such an important mission, entranced by the whole idea.

His work with the lifeboat and the coast guard was genuine enough but nothing like so dangerous as an operation of this nature. He had, in any case, often exaggerated the risks in order to justify his avoidance of call-up and of course in recent weeks he’d lied a good deal to Sara, making out he was on a call when really he’d been snuggled up with Iris in her little boat loft. This would not only give him even more opportunities to be alone with his young barmaid, but make him into a true hero and not simply an imagined one.

‘Who chose me?’ he wanted to know, preening himself a little.

‘I did. I was instructed to find a boat. Yours is sound, which is more than you can say for some, a decent size for sea journeys at twenty-four, twenty-six feet and you seem like the sort of chap who can be trusted. A man not afraid of taking risks.’

Iris regarded him with a steady gaze, to give the impression that she meant more by this than his willingness to cheat on his wife. She’d chosen him because he was a man with weaknesses, and had made sure he was entirely besotted with her so that she was able to control him, before making an approach. When the true nature of her work finally emerged, she needed to be absolutely certain that Hugh wouldn’t back out, or spill the beans to someone he shouldn’t. ‘You’ll be told very little and be expected to obey orders. Can you do that?’

Hugh nodded, excitement and fear warring for supremacy inside him. ‘How will they check me out? Will there be a test run?’

‘You might be called in for a little chat, just to look you over, but no test run. You are either in, or not, as the case may be. Well?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You should be honoured that they trust you enough to let me tell you all of this.’ She was already beginning to lose patience with him. The sex was good certainly, even imaginative, but in every other way she found Hugh Marrack slow and lazy and entirely selfish. Totally wrapped up in himself.

She still had her sailor boy friend but mainly as cover, for when she needed an alibi for whatever reason.

‘Your boat will be requisitioned in any case, so either you are the one to operate it, or you’ll be expected to keep your nose out of it and your mouth shut about what’s been said tonight. That goes without saying. Your silence can be guaranteed - if necessary. But once you’ve joined our operation, then that’s it, there’s no going back. If you don’t come up to scratch, or you become a danger to other members in the operation, you’ll be eliminated.’

‘Eliminated?’

This time Iris remained silent while he worked that one out for himself. Then she crossed her long legs and leaned back while she waited for his decision.
 

Even in dungarees, far more suited to an open boat than the jumper and short skirt she usually wore, Hugh’s eyes were riveted upon the turn of a trim ankle, her shapely calves, the soft curve of her stomach, savouring the enticing knowledge that he was privy to the secrets hidden beneath the rough fabric.

The thought brought a rush of blood to his head and a strange tightening in his chest. God, but he wanted her, and somehow the threat of danger made the sex all the more exciting. It would add extra zest to the proceedings. Besides, he could see the reports in the newspaper even now, once the war was over and all of this came out.
Local hero saves countless lives
. He cleared his throat and finally found his voice. ‘Right. I’m your man. When do we start?’

‘Right now, at least in about . . . ‘ Iris glanced at her watch . . .’an hour. Time for your reward first. Shall I take off the dungarees, or will you?’

Hugh couldn’t believe the buzz it gave him. Their coupling on this occasion was even more savage than usual. So violently did he take her, that she banged her head against the cabin door. He heard the crack like a gun shot in the tiny space but she didn’t even whimper. He’d underestimated his little bar maid. Iris Logan was made of strong stuff.

A week later, when Bette saw Chad again, she flew into his arms on a gasp of relief. ‘Oh, was it dreadful? What did they do to you?’

‘Hey, I’m okay. Don’t you worry none about little ole Chad. Ain’t the first time I’ve been in the glasshouse for a bit of fisticuffs. What about your folks though? They won’t want to have anything to do with me now, I reckon.’

Bette wouldn’t care to repeat Sadie’s reaction to the news that all her time and trouble over the fish pie, not to mention bribing the grocer for extra marg in order to make the cake, had been for nothing. It was all most embarrassing. Even Sara had failed to persuade Sadie that it wasn’t all a Yankee plot to do her down. And Bette was under stern instructions never to ask him again.

‘Aw Mam, don’t say such a thing,’ she’d pleaded. ‘I like him. I like him a lot. Chad is a real nice guy.’

‘Listen to you, child, sounding more and more American every day. You’ll not see him again, do you hear me? I don’t want that Yank to ever set foot in my house.’

‘Don’t say such a thing. I love him.’

‘Love!’ Sadie gave a mocking laugh of disbelief. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word, young girl like you. Forget him. There are plenty more fish in the sea, Cornish ones at that.’

Bette gave no indication of this battle as she turned to him with a confident smile. ‘Don’t be silly, of course you’re welcome to come any time. We’ll fix something up next week maybe, but give me a kiss for goodness sake before I expire from frustration. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.’

She’d work on Sadie, make her change her mind.

Chad didn’t need asking twice and because Bette felt so sorry for him, had missed him so much this last week and perhaps because her mother disapproved so strongly, somehow her feelings seemed more intense than usual. Consequently she allowed him to venture a little further along the exciting path of passion than perhaps she’d intended. She certainly made no protest when he removed her blouse, beyond a tiny whimper of need, so he swiftly unhooked her pink brassiere as well.

It felt wonderful to feel his warm hands caressing her. Even the coolness of the breeze on her bare flesh seemed to excite her and when he teased her with his fingers in more intimate places it brought her to such heights of ecstasy, she really couldn’t think straight.

She was begging him to take her in the end, all resistance gone. She loved him. She wanted him. What more was there to even consider? Tomorrow he might sail away and be blown up.

Next came a warm, pulsing sensation deep inside her, overwhelming her with emotion, making her cry out loud for more. He took her to the limits, lifting and carrying her with him to undreamed of heights as he loved her with all the skill he possessed, as if she were the most precious person in the whole world.

This was no quick coupling, no hasty fumble among the rocks. Bette could feel him trembling with emotion, desperately wanting to make her happy, moved by her trust and need of him, and he did not disappoint.
 

Never had Bette felt this way before and when it was over she lay in his arms quietly weeping as he kissed her and told her how very much he loved her and just as soon as he could, he would make her his wife. It was the most exquisite moment in her life.

‘That’s if you’ll have me, hon.’

‘If I’ll have you? Oh, Chad,’ and she burst into tears all over again.
 

Later, in the quiet calm of her own bed, Bette felt no shame at having given him her virginity. What else could she give him half so precious? She couldn’t rightly find words to describe how she felt, all sort of churned up inside, excited and oddly fearful and deeply, deeply in love.

And if tomorrow she should discover that he’d got her pregnant, what did it matter? He was going to marry her. He’d said so. Besides, tomorrow might never come.

It’s not exactly a string, that’s all I mean. A couple mebbe.’

‘A couple?’