The Other Side of Love (41 page)

“We were talking about Peter,”

Aubrey responded.

“England owes him the greatest debt of all. He died a hero’s death for Crown and Country. At least Araminta has that to be proud of.”

Euan’s voice reproached Aubrey. Yet in truth he felt only a profound relief that his irritating bookish son had found himself a safe berth in Scotland.

IV

Wyatt was staying with Porteous.

That night he couldn’t get to sleep. Araminta, he thought, and rolled over. As he considered her grief and intolerable situation, the repaired tendons of his hands seemed alive. He turned on to his other side. Aubrey asked me to help her. After an hour of tossing and turning, he reached for the bedside lamp and clumsily lit a cigarette. Switching off the light, he lay back in the pillows.

As he stared into the blackness at the glowing tip, a thought came to him.

” marry her.

His mind jumped to the crazy rush of emotions that had surrounded Kathe, and a small knob of muscles showed at his jaw.

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The pain of her refusal to come to New York had abated very little. He was still haunted by the certainty that she had rejected him because of Myron Leventhal. Oh, not on a conscious level, he thought. It was like a tumour in her brain; she didn’t even know the Nazi beliefs were embedded there.

All at once the night quiet was disturbed by a burst of deep-voiced Dutch song. Queen Wilhelmina had founded a club for the Free Dutch servicemen a few doors up the Bayswater Road, and soldiers came and went at all hours.

Pushing himself to sitting position, Wyatt took a long drag on his cigarette. Stop stewing over Kathe, he told himself. That’s over and done with. Think about Araminta.

Araminta had spent her days off from the Knightsbridge fire station travelling on crowded trains to visit him at the hospital. Her liveliness and high spirits had buoyed him through the post-op blues. Her delightful vanity and charming selfishness had amused him, but he had seen through to her warmth and loyalty. Though he had never doubted her love for Peter, she had a way of tossing her bright hair whenever she caught sight of him that made him suspect she liked him more than she’d let on.

And as for her baby, considering his own experience, he believed he could carry off being a good father. Araminta’s one terrific dame, he thought. We’ll make a great team. There was no tinge of self-sacrifice in his impulsive decision. Stubbing out his cigarette, he fell asleep almost immediately.

V -

You have only yourself to blame if thBevening turns out to be a disaster,”

Araminta said as they left the flat.

“We both have to eat, so why not do it together?”

She made a bright rejoinder, but as he started the jeep her attention wandered. How odd it felt, not having her mind firmly anchored. She had never been a woolgatherer. Until now she had been able to detect the feel of a crooked stocking-seam, she knew the instant her lipstick needed replenishing. Though congenitally late, she could gauge the time accurately without glancing at her watch. Since she’d seen that blurred photograph in The Times, however, entire hours had disappeared as if down rabbit-holes. She kept reliving Peter’s last leave - the bruise-dark shadows under his eyes, nis rapid recital of Victorian poetry, his triumphant shout whenever he came. Out of his poor sweet difficulties had come this ruinous if banal problem.

Aubrey had been better than his word. Not only had he put the money in her bank account, but when he’d kissed her goodbye, he’d a’so slipped her a folded memo-sheet with a name, a telephone

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number, a Harley Street address. A reputable specialist who did illegal operations? Hardly information even a womanizing rake would have at his fingertips, much less her shy, sensitive brother. Yet, although she remained intent on abortion, she still hadn’t gathered up the energy or was it the will? to make the call.

“Here we are,”

Wyatt said.

She jerked to attention.

Ahead of them, Buckingham Palace reared up against the twilit sky. They were in Green Park. Along the dusk-shadowed paths men in the uniforms of various countries either strolled or lounged on benches with their arms around English girls.

“Wasn’t this a dinner invitation?”

Araminta asked.

“First we need to talk.”

“Darling, do I hear ominous rustling in the trees?”

Her attempt at archness ended in a sharp little gasp.

“Promise me you won’t say anything until I’ve finished.”

“Don’t you sound sombre? This isn’t like you.”

His dusk-lit expression was stern.

“

‘Minta, I want you to be my wife.”

“What?”

Tm asking if you’ll marry me.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Aubrey told you?”

“Look, you can say no or yes. But don’t tie what I’m asking to anything else. Take it seriously.”

“Wyatt, it’s very sweet of you.”

“Sweet, hell. You’ll notice that I haven’t enquired whether the situation still exists or whether it ever did.”

“You must give up this obsession of yours about proposing to girls named Kingsmith.”

A spasm contorted the muscles around his mouth.

“I told you. That was kids”

stuff.”

“The objections are the same. We’re first cousins.”

“We’re not. Cousins.”

She stared at him.

He raised his shoulders in a little shrug.

“Mother also had a little problem, and Dad was in love with her. So here I am, no prize, but not your cousin, either.”

She leaned back in the car seat.

“That’s a closely guarded secret, Wyatt.”

“You can say that again. Mother didn’t tell me until a few years ago. Dad … well, he’s been fabulous. He’s totally forgotten there was ever anyone else in the picture. I’m his son and that’s that.”

“I knew you arrived a little too promptly. What did Aunt Rossie tell you about your father?”

“Dad’s my father.”

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‘Was he married?”

“He died,”

Wyatt said tersely. Why didn’t he tell her the whole truth? He couldn’t. His silence had nothing to do with trust; he trusted Araminta completely. His silence was caused by the old pain. Though far from a coward, he was not a masochist, either. He shrank from reactivating the pain.

” tell her later, he thought.

“This is for real.”

“For real?”

“I’m crazy about you.”

“Darling, you like me; I’m your chum,”

she said.

“That’s not love.”

“Arrows through the heart,”

he said, clapping a hand on his chest.

“Why do you think I’ve been hanging around? If Aubrey hadn’t asked me to look out for you, I’d have waited a decent interval before springing this on you. It’s taking advantage of you in a bad moment.”

“Give me some time to think,”

she said in a faraway voice.

“Now, do let’s have dinner.”

Facing one another in the narrow French restaurant in Soho, they both picked at the excellent rabbit stew.

When the plates of scarcely touched food were removed, Wyatt asked:

“How long’re you leaving me dangling?”

“Darling, it’s un pen awkward. You see, I used to have the silliest little infatuation for you. I can’t be cold-blooded and say to myself:

“Here’s Wyatt. What a godsend.”

“

“If you’re worried I’ll be a good father, remember I’ve had a wonderful example all my life. Come on, say yes.”

“Why’re you doing this?”

Araminta’swyes narrowed with Euan’s hard shrewdness.

“And, please, no nrore of the moonlight-androses tosh.”

“OK, on a practical level. We make a terrific team. You’ll fit in perfectly with my life in New York, be a big asset for my career, charming the socks off my clients. But,

“Minta, I don’t take back a word of what I said about you. You’re fun to be with, you brighten up my life, you’re spectacular-looking. And I intend to spend the rest of my days telling you so. I don’t give up easily.”

Araminta twisted Peter’s diamond around her finger. She had lost weight, and the ring was too loose. Abruptly she rose to her reel.

“I won’t be a minute,”

she said in a tight little voice, hurrying on her high heels to the rear. The beaded curtain jangled as she rushed through.

When she emerged five minutes later, her face was repowdered, er lipstick renewed. The rosecut diamond was gone from her finger. 6

“You’ll have to tell Daddy,”

she said.

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VI

Euan, bewildered at Araminta’s sudden reversal of allegiance, pursed his small hard mouth.

“What the devil’s the matter with you, Wyatt? First poor Alfred’s girl, now mine.”

“Araminta’s said yes.”

“The girl’s weeping her eyes out for Captain Shawcross-Mortimer.”

“Uncle Euan, it’s settled. We’re getting married.”

There was an expression of such determination in his goodlooking American nephew’s face that Euan shrank back. Much as he doted on his lively daughter, he wasn’t blind to the traditional reason for a hasty marriage. The Earl of Mainwaring’s son, poor boy, had been home on leave a couple of months ago … Still, on the other hand, she had been rushing down to the American hospital whenever she was free. Had she been carrying on an intrigue with her fiance? Or her cousin? Or both? Distressing thoughts for a man who until a few minutes earlier had never considered his daughter anything other than a virgin.

“What about her duties with the Auxiliary Fire Service?”

“She’s turning in her badge.”

“I see,”

Euan said in a muted voice.

“We’ll have a small wedding at Quarles. Say, at the end of the month?”

“Fine. Perfect.”

The vicar of the old Saxon church married them in the side-garden of Quarles. The warm south wind teased pink rose petals on to the bride’s smart big-brimmed hat and the groom’s sandy hair. Wyatt had been unable to reach Aubrey at the gunnery school, so Porteous filled in as best man. Euan, his face working with bellicose regret, gave the bride away. Elizabeth wept noisily in her unbecoming salmon frock, bought the summer before the war for garden-parties. The crotchety Irish cook, the only servant remaining at Quarles, shushed the giggles of the evacuees. It was the Irishwoman who took the wedding pictures. The ship bearing Wyatt’s letter about the engagement was torpedoed, and this package of badly focused snapshots would be the first herald to Rossie and Humphrey that they had a daughter-in-law.

VII

“Wait until you see the nightgown Mummy gave me. She splurged all of her coupons on it.”

Araminta was moving rapidly around the large, flowered Axminster carpet.

“Should I change in the bathroom? It’s very worrisome, being Mrs Kingsmith, not Miss. Do you think I have wedding nerves?”

“The innkeeper’s prepared the bridal suite with that eventuality in

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mind,”

Wyatt said, putting his feet up on the lumpy, flowered chintz sofa.

“I’ll sack down here.”

-‘Darling, would you mind awfully, waiting?”

“I expected it.”

“Can’t you sound a little less relieved?”

she asked, smiling tearfully.

“Hey, hey.”

He went to put his arms around her.

He intended it to be a cousinly embrace, but she pressed closer. He hadn’t been with a woman since before the commando raid. The spectacular body pressed closer until they touched everywhere. Their mouths opened, the kiss going deeper, the first kiss of passion that they had ever exchanged. The blue-shadowed light of the fading August day threw the room into soft shadows, a faraway nightingale called, the old walls creaked faintly, but neither of them noticed. His almost-healed hands were curved around her buttocks when she pulled back a little.

“I always knew you’d be divinely sexy,”

she murmured unevenly.

“Does this sound sluttish? I’ve changed my mind about waiting.”

They strewed their clothes on the cabbage rose carpet. Naked, Araminta stood absolutely still, her hands at her sides. He gazed through the soft light. Her breasts were opulent with pregnancy, the nipples a warm toasty pink, her stomach slightly curved. Her hips flared from the still slender waist, the pubic curls a brassier, truer red than he had imagined, her toenails were polished with wine-dark lacquer. He kneeled, kissing the toes, kissing his way up her legs.

“Come to bed,”

she whispered.

“Come to bed, husband darling.”

The room grew dark, and the tall fruit-laden old pear tree outside the window whispered in the breeze. \Aatt made love to his bride as though they were on a journey of discovery, an odyssey that he desired above all else for them to share, and yes, he longed for them to reach the end and spiral down into climax together, he wanted this to be more than satiation, more than release, he wanted a complete fusion between them - he wanted sex the way it had been with only one woman. Yet as he reached the end of his endurance, pounding faster and faster, he accepted that, even though Araminta’s breathing quickened, the response was to please him.

Afterwards, they smiled at each other, and in that scarcely visible smile, that sweet sad glimmer of teeth and eyes, was the acknowledgement that four lovers lay entwined in the brass bed.