Gracie's Sin (41 page)

‘Don’t be shy. Relax, it’ll be fine.’ Rose pulled his hand to her breast, gently nibbled at his mouth, easing it open with her tongue. He groaned, deep in his throat and, sensing a shudder of excitement ripple through him, she felt a wild surge of exultation that he was about to go the distance. ‘Ooh, that’s nice,’ she said, meaning to encourage him. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’ But a little investigation proved they weren’t getting anywhere at all. Limp as a wet lettuce, Rose thought, her heart plummeting into new depths of depression. Then as if he couldn’t bear for her to witness his failure, he suddenly jerked away from her, left the bed, and quitted the room altogether.

Rose stayed where she was, blinking back hurt tears of surprise and bitter disappointment. Why did it always have to go wrong for her?

It was two weeks later and Rose was deeply afraid. How could she tell Adam about the baby when they still hadn’t consummated their marriage? She was at her wits’ end to know how to deal with the matter. Nor dare she seek help from her friends, all of whom seemed to think they were a perfect couple, happily married and enjoying a protracted honeymoon. Rose continued to work with the squad in the forest, needing still to be a part of the group. Relations between the girls remained the same with Gracie being cold shouldered, cut off entirely from their friendship and treated as if she were some sort of pariah. She’d said nothing about the attack on her hair but went everywhere with a bandana scarf tied around her head beneath the wide brimmed hat she’d taken to wearing in place of the green beret. Irritatingly, it looked quite dashing.

Rose’s days of philandering with officers and socialising in the Eagle’s Head was very much a thing of the past. She and Adam rarely went out of an evening. More often than not they spent it sitting around the wireless, an unlikely trio; Adam, herself, and Irma. There were moments when Rose felt as if she were back in Wales, with Agnes and Maurice Sullivan; a frightening thought. At least Irma liked ITMA, and Tommy Handley was one of her favourites. And of course, there was no threat of an assault of any kind. Even her own husband never touched her.

Nor was Rose called upon to do chores. Irma wouldn’t allow her to do a stroke of work in the house. She continued to do all the cleaning, even to tidying up their bedroom which made Rose feel as if the most intimate moments of their marriage were being picked over; their privacy invaded, checked out and criticised. It meant that every morning before dashing off to the woods on her bicycle she must remember to remove the pillow and eiderdown from the floor where Adam still slept, and return them to the bed. She dreaded to think what her mother-in-law’s reaction would be if she ever learned the truth about what went on between these four walls. O rather what didn’t.

In every way Irma was in control. Adam conceded entirely to his mother’s resolve that life continue entirely as usual. She sewed on his buttons, told him when to visit the barber; washed and ironed his shirts, polished his shoes, set the tin bath on its mat each Friday evening for him, filled it with hot water, and probably scrubbed his back for all Rose knew. It seemed ironic to Rose, who’d once complained of having too much housework, that she now felt useless, of no value at all.

Perhaps because of all this worry and stress, she’d had a small bleed on her night-dress the other night. For a moment Rose thought she was about to lose Josh’s baby and had felt a surge of fear and disappointment. If she lost his precious baby as well as him, what would she have left? Nothing. Josh would be gone from her life completely.

‘It’s on!’

‘What’s on?’ Gracie gazed into Karl’s face, noting how pale and drawn he looked even as she recognised the glitter of excitement in his pale eyes, and realised with a terrible sinking of her heart what he was referring to. The escape, of course.

The squad was working, as usual, deep in the forest, save for Lou who seemed to spend more time on the telephone to Divisional Office these days, or else involved with the endless paperwork, working on records, pay lists and time sheets back at the Eagle’s Head.

‘Just because I’m not wielding anything heavier than a pencil doesn’t mean I’m not pulling my weight,’ she would say. But this was addressed strictly to the others. She hadn’t spoken to Gracie since that day at the camp when Rose had spilled the beans about her love for Karl. None of the squad had. This was far worse than the spat she and Lou had had when they’d been transferred from Cornwall because of Gracie being late back. This cut deep to the heart of their friendship, had split it in two.

If Gracie asked her a direct question Lou’s mouth would clamp shut and she’d turn away in total rebuff, even avoiding eye contact. It broke Gracie’s heart. She felt isolated and nervously fearful over possible repercussions, not for herself so much, as for Karl.

The stress of it all made her feel desperately tired, the trees seeming to loom taller before her eyes, and be more difficult to bring down. The October rain seemed somehow more persistent, every bruise and blister more painful, every splinter in her hand a major crisis. She knew that she wasn’t coping well.

Now, while everyone was distracted handing out cheese rolls and thermos flasks, Karl drew her to one side, out of sight of the others, pressing her up against a tree so that he could kiss her quickly full on the mouth. It was a crazy thing to do, the act of a desperate man, and for a moment Gracie couldn’t resist him. Even the barest touch of his flesh upon hers sent her senses spinning.

Within seconds though she’d pushed him away, deliberately strolled back to the saw horse to smile across at the guard, who stared back impassively by way of response. ‘Stay away from me. We’re being watched. We really shouldn’t be seen together like this. It’s far too risky.’

‘Life is full of risk and I can’t help it. I love you.’ They saw Alf walk over to the guard, the two men soon deep in conversation. Taking advantage of this distraction Karl caught hold of her hand and pulled her back into the bushes to kiss her again, and, unable to help herself, Gracie melted into his arms, revelling in the ripples of desire that cascaded through her body. It was terrifying, exciting, nerve-wracking and utterly blissful just to be with him like this. The next moment it was as if he had doused the fire in her with iced water. ‘The plans for the escape have been finalised. It will take place on the first Sunday in November.’

‘Oh, my godfathers, no.
No!
Karl, I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to take such a dangerous risk. You’ll be killed, I know you will
.
’
She was breathless with fear but he only smiled and stroked her cheek, endearing himself to her and infuriating her all at the same time. Why wouldn’t he listen? Why did men always have to be so damned heroic. ‘How can you hope to escape? What is this plan?’

He shook his head. ‘Better you no nothing. I do not want you involved.’

‘And I don’t want
you
involved. You mustn’t go. I won’t let you. They’ll realise you’re missing and call out the guards, perhaps even bring in the bloodhounds. Even if they don’t catch you right away, you’ll never find your way across the fells. You’ll get lost trying to reach the coast. You’ll freeze to death, sink in a bog, be attacked by the dogs they’re sure to send after you. You’ll never survive.’ She was speaking rapidly and breathlessly, pumping the words out in these few precarious seconds while they were momentarily unobserved.

‘My lovely Gracie, what a catalogue of disasters you predict for me. Do you think that I have no courage, no skills? I plan carefully and will keep us safe. Do not worry, little one.’

‘But I do worry,’ she murmured, even as she melted against him, lifting her face for more kisses. Then just as swiftly she drew away, and, snatching up the bill hook, began to peel sections of bark off a pole in fierce stabbing movements, as if she needed to attack something as an outlet for her fears, ‘How can you possibly be safe?’ The words came out in an angry whisper. ‘You’re a PoW for heaven’s sake. The guards won’t stop to ask questions. When they find you, they’ll shoot you!’

She stopped hacking at the bark to turn and gaze at him, appalled by her own words. They stared deep into each other’s eyes, seeking a way out, perhaps attempting to read hope and a possible future in the love reflected in the other’s gaze.

Karl spoke softly. ‘It is a risk I must take. Erich needs me. If I do not go with him he will tell about us. There is nothing I can do.’

By way of reply she knocked the pole off the saw horse to the ground, kicked it with her booted foot as if it alone were responsible for their plight.

Karl calmly lifted another in its place. ‘Are you angry with me?’

‘I’m angry with the war, the world, everything that stands between us. What does it matter if Erich does tell? Everyone must guess how we feel. All my friends know by now.’

For a moment he looked stunned, and then his gaze narrowed. ‘What will they do?’

Gracie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I don’t know. For now they are content to take their punishment out on me personally.’ She whipped off the hat and scarf, revealing her devastated hair. She’d attempted to trim the roughly cut clumps of bristles into a more even fashion but there was nothing she could do to disguise their shortness. Gracie resembled nothing so much as an American GI. Karl stared at her for half a second then gave a low moan.

‘My poor darling.’ He ached to pull her close in his arms but now he dare not make a move towards her. If her friends could do such a terrible thing, what risks did she run from others, from the authorities? He glanced across at the watchful Alf, still mindful of his duty to help keep a close eye on the prisoners in his charge. Karl knew himself to be fortunate to be allowed to work in the forest at all. Most of the other prisoners were only allowed out in groups to collect wood for the fires, all under close escort. Only a few of the NCOs, like himself and those who were more of a problem inside than out, like Erich, were allowed to work with civilians and, having gained trust, be less strictly supervised. But he must never take advantage of this situation, or it might put his beloved Gracie’s life at risk. That was why he didn’t want her involved. He needed her to be safe. If only he could be with her to protect her all of the time.

He took out his frustration by slamming his fist against the bark of a tree. Beads of blood sprang up across his knuckles. ‘What have they done to you? What have
I
done to you? I should never have come into your life. It would be better if I were gone.’

‘No, don’t say that. I love you.’

Alf shouted over to her, ‘Aren’t you coming for your dinner, girl? It’s lovely cheese again.’ He came a step or two nearer, though not too close and for the first time Gracie wondered if he guessed about herself and Karl. Perhaps Alf was more tolerant than he made out. There was an anxious frown etched on his old face and he jerked a thumb in the direction of the guard seated under a tree. ‘Everyone else is eating. For now. But thoo’ll have me in bother for not keeping a better watch on this beggar.’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry!’ As she hastily wiped her hands on a cloth, Gracie whispered fiercely under her breath. ‘Tell me that you won’t do it, that you won’t really attempt to escape.’

‘I must, Gracie. It is my duty. I have my orders. Erich has rank over me and I must do as he says. Would you have the
altestenrat
call me a coward too?’

She threw down the cloth in despair, and, when she looked at him again, her eyes were glittering suspiciously bright. ‘Then I shall help you. I’ll bring you food and warm clothing. I’ll wait for you. Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there.’

‘
No!
I will not have you involved.’

‘I’m already involved. I shall wait for you.’ She named a spot in the forest they both knew well and before he could make any further protest, Gracie hurried away to collect her lunch.

She ate alone under a beech tree. None of the other girls spoke to her, or came anywhere near. Only Alf wandered over.

‘Summat up?’ he asked in his quiet, country tones, flicking an eyebrow in the direction of the rest of the squad.

Gracie smiled at him. ‘Nothing I can’t deal with Alf. Nothing that won’t resolve itself, in time.’

‘Nothing you want to talk about?’

By way of an answer, Gracie dropped her gaze and took a bite out of her sandwich.

Alf fingered his moustache, a thoughtful expression in his old eyes. ‘You can allus call on me, lass. If you ever need a friend.’ And on this surprising statement, he ambled away.

It had been a tiring day in the woods and Rose was glad to be home. Pregnancy was proving to be a most joyless experience. The sickness had never left her, and more often than not she felt worn out and jaded, with an odd sort of ache in her belly, which was swelling and puffing out like a pouter pigeon. Despite these discomforts she felt excited at the prospect of having a child of her own, Josh’s child; happier than she’d been in years. If only she and Adam weren’t drifting further and further apart, and his dratted mother wasn’t under their feet the whole time, then life would really be quite tolerable.

She rather thought pregnancy suited her. It was a wonder that no one had remarked upon how much she’d changed.

Rose stood in front of the dressing table mirror, examining her naked body with a curious detachment. She smoothed a hand over the soft curve of her stomach, lifting each breast to see if they were heavier, trying to calculate just how far gone she was. This was difficult as she’d had a little show, on two or three occasions in fact, but then this was common, she told herself. She remembered the gossip in the corner shop back in Cornwall when Mrs Clements had given birth to a child with a strawberry birth mark. The village women had explained how this had been caused by bleeding during pregnancy. At first this had troubled Rose to think that Josh’s baby might be marred in some way but had now dismissed it as some foolish old wives’ tale. She refused to believe such nonsense. The child would be fine, a healthy boy. She smiled at her reflection. It was strange how she felt quite certain that she was carrying Josh’s son, could hardly wait to hold him in her arms. With a baby of her own to love, it would make losing him more bearable.