The Lady and the Locksmith (2 page)

‘No. Perhaps not.’

Carl paused, uncertain what to say. The evening was hot and sultry, and there was tension in the air – tension that came not just from the heat. He glanced down at the girl, and smiled apologetically, silently acknowledging his mistake. She was very lovely, too lovely to be ordinary – he should have understood that. But surely, she must realise that the game was over, and that they couldn’t go on flirting any more? The pause seemed endless. Everything was different now that he understood she was a lady.

‘Shall I offer to go with you, Miss?’ Carl said, knowing it was improper. Knowing it was not his place to say any such thing.

She blushed. ‘You are very kind …’ she began. ‘Very gentlemanly, but…’

He’d spoken out of turn. He knew it. ‘Sorry, Miss. It was not gentlemanly at all,’ he admitted. ‘A gentleman would have offered to go
for
you, I think.’

He smiled to hide his embarrassment, and to his delight she smiled back and the tension was broken. She had a lovely, lovely smile.

‘Yes,’ she said, her face flushed pink and pretty. Lovelier than ever.

‘That’s what I’ll do then, Miss. You give me the money and I’ll buy it. I’ll be back before you know it. Forgive me for saying the wrong thing.’

There was another moment’s hesitation, and her eyes met his, sending a sensation through him that wasn’t just embarrassment any more.

The girl kept gazing back at him, artlessly, innocently, while he coloured up again. She moistened her lips, little minx, and he felt a wave of warm heat up his back and round his neck. He touched his neckcloth, to loosen it slightly.

Then she spoke.

‘You know, Mr Janssen, I really would like a breath of fresh air.’

Susannah walked along the tree-lined avenue, in the direction of the tavern, with the locksmith by her side. All the way along the road, a little voice in her head told her she should not be doing this. A well-bred young lady, walking down the street with a tradesman? What was she thinking of!

Yet she had done so many things today that she had never done before, it seemed to follow on naturally from everything else. Besides, the locksmith was so easy to talk to – so smiley and handsome and fair. She wasn’t used to men like that. She wasn’t used to men at all.

 
‘Where are you from, Mr Janssen?’ She took a sidelong glance at him as she spoke, to admire his broad shoulders again.

‘I’m from here, I was born in this town,’ he said. ‘But I know what you’re asking. My father was from Stockholm. He met and married a local girl, and stayed here all his life.’

‘I have a book about Sweden that papa gave me for Christmas,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never been there. I’ve never been anywhere at all.’ She spoke quickly, anxiously, but she was not unhappy. She was excited.

‘Neither have I, Miss. We have that in common.’

She smiled a radiant smile. She liked the locksmith – but today she liked everything she set eyes upon. She gazed around and everything she saw seemed completely perfect. The evening light through the leaves, the long tree-lined avenue leading them into the city, and the delightful hustle and bustle of busier streets beyond. A tramcar went rattling past, and Susannah turned and watched in amazement. What luck! What incredible luck - to see such a thing on what was only her second trip out of the house in four years.

She knew the locksmith must think she was odd, but then, he didn’t know the half of it. She felt a little guilty for misleading him - pretending to be a maid - but it had to be done.

‘Tell me your name,’ he said quietly.

She decided to oblige him. ‘Susannah Fortescue.’

He smiled and swiped a bloom from a flowering shrub overhanging the path. ‘For you, Susannah.’

He should have addressed her as Miss Fortescue, but she was glad he didn’t. If the name meant anything to him he didn’t say. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told him her real name, but she didn’t want to lie anymore. Now he’d always be able to say he once walked out with Fortescue’s daughter, whom no one in the town had ever seen. But Susannah pushed those thoughts away. She wanted to enjoy walking in the sunshine with this wonderful, handsome man.

They approached the inn now. It was a quaint little place with a low doorway and a painted sign on hinges above the window.

‘It’s a good little tavern,’ the locksmith explained, ‘and they know me here. I sing songs for them on a Saturday night, you see. So, if you are planning on buying any more brandy, this is where you’ll find me.’

‘I think that’s most unlikely,’ she said, with obvious regret. She knew this walk to the Three Bells was a stolen pleasure, a once in a lifetime thing, never to be countenanced again.

‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘No harm in wishing, is there?’

She gave a shy little smile, and waited outside watching the passers by, while he went into the pub and bought the brandy. Then reluctantly, they turned and headed back to the house where she belonged. He walked her right to the door, and they both went through to the back of the house so that he could retrieve his tool bag.

Susannah was sorry the evening was over. It had been such a thrill, enjoying his company, walking along beside him – knowing that she was doing something that crossed the line between proper and improper.

‘Before I forget,’ he said, ‘here are the keys for the new lock. There’s a master and a spare.’ He showed her the keys, linked together on a metal ring.

‘A spare key?’ she said, in amazement. ‘You have made more than one key!’

‘It’s what we always do.’

‘That means …I could have a key to that door, all of my own?’

‘Yes, Miss. If that’s what you want.’ He took one of the keys off the metal ring, and handed it to her. ‘Are you happy with that?’

Susannah gazed at the key in the palm of her hand, curling her fingers around it. Then, she looked up at him with a bright smile. ‘More than you can possibly imagine, Mr Janssen. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.’

Carl was intrigued by the way she examined the shiny new keys as if she’d never seen anything like them before. She was so sweet. He realised he was lingering, not wanting to go. He made no move to pick up his heavy tool bag; he wanted to make the moment last. He knew he had to say goodnight for now, but this wouldn’t be the end of it, he was sure. The longer he spent with her the more she aroused him.

‘Carl?’ she said, and he looked at her in surprise, because it was the first time she had used his given name. He rather liked the way it sounded on her lips. She surprised him even more by tugging gently at his shirtfront, pulling him towards her. He smiled down at her, enjoying the unexpected intimacy. If she wanted more, he’d be happy to oblige.

‘If I really was a parlourmaid, what would you do now?’

‘I’d steal a kiss,’ he said. ‘If she was willing.’

‘How would you do that?’ she said. ‘For if she was willing, it wouldn’t be stolen, would it?’

Carl couldn’t take his eyes off her sweet little mouth. Pretty pink lips, pouting a little as she spoke. Daring him to kiss her. God, he wanted to kiss her.

‘It’d be stealing if she belonged to another man,’ he said warily.

‘Parlourmaids are seldom married, Mr Janssen, and neither am I.’

Carl knew he was on dangerous ground.
Stop this right now,
he told himself.
She’s a rich man’s daughter and she’s leading you on.

‘You know what I mean, Miss. Your father would have me run out of town if we…’

Susannah gave a heavy sigh. ‘Parlourmaids are lucky.’

She turned away.

Carl couldn’t bear it. He didn’t like seeing her so crestfallen. ‘You’re the sweetest girl I ever saw!’

She turned eagerly when he blurted this out. ‘Really?’ she said, with her eyes burning bright.

‘Yes. But you mustn’t play with fire,’ he said. ‘You’re a lovely, lovely girl and you don’t know what you are getting yourself into. I am not a gentleman, and even if I were, I have no right to touch you, strangers that we are. You mustn’t be too forward with men, or believe me, they will misuse you.’

Suddenly she looked contrite, and a worried frown came over her face. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, ‘I have never been so unladylike in my life. One little taste of freedom and I am behaving like a—I don’t even know the right word! I have no experience of these things!’ Her face flushed scarlet and she fanned herself with her hands.

It was such an alluring gesture – and done so artlessly – it almost brought Carl to his knees.

‘I must go,’ he said, as he struggled to maintain his resolve not to touch her.

‘Let me shake your hand instead, Mr Janssen,’ she said.

Their fingers met, and lingered. They shook hands and they didn’t let go. Neither of them wanted to end this fragile moment of contact. Warm hands, shy looks, and words that didn’t really mean goodbye.

‘Oh, sweetheart! Come here!’ he said in despair. He reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, his mouth finding hers, tasting her for the first time. It was a wild crazy kiss; a long, hard, aching kiss that made Carl moan in anguish and delight. She yielded so sweetly to him - as his tongue invaded her mouth – he thought he’d die of pleasure. The kiss deepened, and his whole body pressed against hers. His hands caressed her back, and he could feel the seams of her corset, underneath the fabric of her dress. Moments passed, touching, tasting, delighting in her eager response. And with all her sweet curves pressing against him, Carl became hotter and harder all the time.

You’re a fool
, his conscience told him,
for a moment of pleasure in a pretty girl’s arms. What if her father walked in on you, now, doing this?

He broke away from her instantly, leaving her breathless.

‘Is
that
what kissing’s like?’ she said, in amazement.

‘Not usually.’ Carl stumbled backwards, stunned and numb from that sensational kiss. Guilt and shame overwhelmed him, as he contemplated what he had done. She looked flushed and delighted, triumphant even. She had got her first kiss.

‘I didn’t want to do that,’ he said, shaking his head.

The girl’s eyes were bright with amusement. ‘Oh, you did, Carl! You know you did. You should not tell such lies.’

She laughed and pushed him away, and then she showed him the door. Leaving him to wonder if she ever meant to see him again, or if she had just used him to get that kiss.

O
N SATURDAY NIGHT, Carl was singing in the pub. He had a repertoire of haunting ballads and sea shanties, including a few rousing old favourites at the end so the crowd could join in with the chorus. He looked up through the throng of people, and he thought he saw her face looking through the casement window.

When it was time for him to take a break, and the publican brought him a pint of beer, he set it down without taking a sip and made his way through the crowd to see if he could find Susannah. He went through the door, and out into the cool night air.

She was standing in the street outside the pub, and smiled in delight when she saw him. She seemed unconcerned by her surroundings – though there were two drunken men sitting in the gutter only a few feet away.