Time Shall Reap (40 page)

Fridjof could understand, or make a guess at, most of what she said now, and they turned and went hand in hand into Summergangs Road, but, walking up the Watsons’ path, Laura wondered if this was a wise move. She had seen Margaret and Donald only once or twice a year before the war, but they were still links in the chain she had snapped in 1941.

Before she could walk off, Donald – now a rather stocky man in his late forties – opened the door. ‘Laura Fullerton! I saw you from the window, and you haven’t changed a bit.’

He ushered them into a small sitting room, where a petite woman rose to greet them. ‘What a pleasant surprise, Laura.’ Margaret kissed Laura’s cheek then turned to the sailor.

‘Our son, James, is in the Navy, too ... the Royal Navy.’

‘This is Fridjof Hougland, he’s Norwegian.’ Laura guessed that Donald and his wife knew of her previous troubles, but they were talking now to Fridjof, and she sat down, pleased that he seemed to be coping, even enjoying himself.

The Watsons made their unexpected callers very welcome, and after some time, Margaret said, ‘You’ll stay for tea, of course. Come through and help me get things ready, Laura, and we can have a chat at the same time.’

The girl followed her into the kitchen rather reluctantly, knowing that this was a ruse to get her alone, and dreading what might be said. Margaret closed the door. ‘Grandma Watson wrote and told us everything, Laura, and we were truly sorry for you and John, though we could pity the two mothers just as much. It must have been a terrible ordeal for them.’

‘They don’t deserve your pity,’ Laura muttered. ‘They carried on a horrible deception for years and years.’

‘They only did what they thought was best at the time, my dear, don’t forget that. I know you walked out, but did you know that your father made your mother leave, too? Grandma has never heard from her and still worries about her.’

Laura didn’t know what to say or think about this; it was difficult hearing about people she had once loved when she had shut them out of her life. This visit had definitely been a mistake, and she wished she had never given in to the stupid impulse. ‘I didn’t know about ... my mother,’ she said, at last, ‘and I do feel sorry for her if Dad put her out, but, to be quite honest, I feel more sorry for him.’

Noticing that the tears were not far off, Margaret opened the door and said, ‘Donald, why don’t you take Fridjof out for a walk? Take him in for a pint when the pubs open, if you like. Tea won’t be ready until after six.’

She made a sign to her husband to let him know that she wanted to be rid of them, and when they went out, she led the girl back into the sitting room. ‘I know it’s been a long time,’ she said, as they sat down, ‘and you’ve probably pushed it right to the back of your mind, but it would be much better to give it an airing and get it out of your system completely. Life’s too short to harbour bitterness.’

After a brief pause, Laura began, hesitantly at first, but gaining confidence as she went on, describing her feelings as well as the facts and letting everything come out just as she remembered it, while the woman listened silently. ‘I swore I’d never forgive Mum, or Helen,’ she gulped at last, twisting her now sodden handkerchief.

‘How do you feel about them now?’ Margaret asked, gently. ‘Have you exorcized the evil spirit you’ve been nurturing all these years?’

‘I do feel better now I’ve told somebody,’ Laura admitted in some surprise. ‘I suppose I’d been letting it fester in my mind, instead of trying to understand how it happened.’ She gratefully accepted the clean handkerchief Margaret handed her.

‘You condemned them too quickly, that was the trouble. It’s easy to blame, but when you take time to think clearly, you can usually find a good reason for someone’s behaviour.’

‘I see that now. Helen must have felt awful when her own baby died, and it’s not surprising she came to believe John was hers. Mum had been hurt at not being able to acknowledge her son, and I can understand now why she gave him up. It must have been hard for her, and she couldn’t foresee ...’ Laura took a deep breath. ‘Oh, Margaret, you’re a clever woman. I honestly do feel different about it now.’

Margaret smiled. ‘Good. I’m glad we got that sorted out, and we’d better start getting this tea ready now.’

‘I’ll write to Dad when I get back,’ Laura said, when they returned to the kitchen. ‘I feel awful about him being on his own for so long, but I didn’t know. Anyway, now that I do, I can help him to trace Mum ... if he’s forgiven her too and wants to get her back.’

‘If he doesn’t, you’ll have to persuade him.’ Margaret knew that her counselling had been successful so far, but she still had something to say, the real test. ‘John was married a few months ago.’ She half expected another flood of tears and hurried on. ‘Agnes is from London and she’s a really nice girl. They’re very happy.’

‘Oh, I’m glad to hear that.’ Laura’s spontaneous reply banished all Margaret’s doubts as to the cure being complete. ‘I hoped he’d found somebody else, too.’

‘Oh, have you ...?’

‘I thought you’d have realized I’m in love with Fridjof. Thank God I’ve got that other business out of my system. I’ll tell him about it, though – I don’t mean to keep any secrets from him.’

‘I’m glad I’ve helped you to lay your ghosts.’ Margaret pulled a basket of vegetables out of the cupboard, and set about peeling and slicing.

Laura told her then about Pat Haggarty, another part of her life which she had been unable to talk about before, and Margaret was vehement in her condemnation of all wars, and more sympathetic than ever towards her young visitor.

After a short silence, Laura said, ‘Let’s get off sad things. I’m going to look forward from now on, not back.’

‘That’s the best way.’

By the time the men returned, the meal was ready, the two women were laughing at something Laura had said, and Donald, who hadn’t known what to expect, was greatly relieved.

At ten past ten, after a very pleasant evening, Laura said they would have to go and was pleased that they were not asked to stay the night. She knew that Margaret would not approve of them sharing a room.

‘You must come to see us again.’ Donald held up Laura’s jacket for her. ‘How long are you to be here?’

‘I’ve to leave on Saturday, unfortunately, but Fridjof’s here until his shop docks, four days after I go back.’

Slapping the Norwegian on the back, Donald said, ‘You can have a bed here when Laura’s away. It’s not much fun being in a hotel on your own, and I’d be glad to have some male company for a change. This woman henpecks me.’

Fridjof looked bewildered, but once he understood that it was an invitation, he grinned. ‘Laura go, I komme.’

‘Have a good journey back, Laura,’ Donald went on, ‘and I’m very glad you came to see us.’

‘So am I,’ Laura breathed, ‘you don’t know how glad. And thank you again, Margaret, for setting me straight.’

‘Let me know what happens.’

In bed, Laura told Fridjof the whole story of her living nightmare of three years earlier, having to make double explanations when he couldn’t understand. She was grateful to Margaret Watson for purging her of the bitternesss which had consumed her for so long. She could talk about it to her lover, calmly and dispassionately. Their life together – and she was sure that they would have a life together – would be frank and open right from the start, with no secrets to foul things up. After she stopped speaking, her emotions clearly exhausted, Fridjof cradled her in his arms all night.

Awake first in the morning, Laura glanced idly round the room. A dressing table with mirror, a wardrobe with mirror, a mirror over the tiny wash basin, one rickety chair. This place must be meant for couples who were interested only in the big double bed, she thought, before her eyes moved on again. A window shaded by heavy black-out curtains, an ancient radiator, a small cabinet at – she looked round to check – each side of the bed. One was bound to contain the obligatory chamber pot, but what would be in the other? In the London hotel there had been a pile of sexy American magazines which had shocked her when she found them, but they wouldn’t shock her now, not after what she and Fridjof had been doing for the past week.

Need for him rising within her, she sat up to kiss him, resting on one elbow and letting her free hand run over his downy chest. His blue eyes flew open, and his hand guided hers down until she could feel the rise of his need for her.

‘Min kjaereste,’
he whispered, lifting his hand to her breast, then adding thickly, ‘He ready.’

‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘Me, too.’

His mouth covered hers while his hand removed hers from his beating manhood. ‘He much ready.’

By the time he entered her, she was also near the stage where she would be ‘much ready’, but he took his time, bringing her slowly to a point where she pleaded with him frantically to hurry. ‘Good?’ he asked, a few moments later.

‘Oh, yes, very good. I love you, Fridjof.’

‘Jeg elsker,
Laura.’

She knew now that he was using his own language to tell her he loved her, and her heart swelled as she watched him reaching for his cigarettes. It was the first time he had ever smoked in their bedroom, but she did not reprove him, saying only, ‘If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late for breakfast.’

Swinging his feet to the floor, Fridjof stood up, eyeing her naked body with pleasure as she jumped out at the other side of the bed. She no longer felt embarrassed by this, it gave her a chance to study him, too – the broad chest, the firm flat stomach, the narrow hips, the ...

He gave a soft laugh as he followed her gaze and said, ruefully, ‘He sleep ... for night.’

She flushed, not really having been conscious of letting her eyes rest on the pathetic little thing which, only a short time before, had been a throbbing monster. She was aware that he was not inexperienced as a lover, but he was twenty-four, after all, and she could not expect him to have led a life of celibacy. She was content that she was the one he loved now.

On their last full day, they walked along the coast until they felt tired and sat down to eat the fruit they had bought in a little shop they had passed. Then they lay back, side by side on the grass, and, as she watched the gulls swooping and screeching above them, Laura thought that this was something else to remember. Her entire leave had been spent carving memories with this loving, lovable man, memories she would cherish till the day she died.

‘Fridjof,’ she said, softly, ‘will you remember all this when you’re back on your ship?’

Rolling over, he stroked her cheek. ‘I ever remember.’ He took her in his arms then, kissing her again and again to prove it, but suddenly drawing away and pulling her roughly to her feet. ‘Komme, Laura, hotel, eat, bed.’ Looking down at his straining trousers, he chuckled. ‘He no sleep. He ready.’

‘Oh, you.’ She gave him a small push, but her heart was racing in anticipation of their last night.

In the hotel dining room after their meal, he grabbed her hand urgently and led her upstairs to their room, and although it was not quite half past eight, they undressed and went to bed. Fridjof’s need for her by this time was so obvious that she couldn’t help giggling somewhat nervously, but he said, solemnly, ‘Jeg elsker. I love you, Laura. He love you.’

‘I love you, and him too,’ she managed to say before his body enveloped hers and she was transported into a world and time where nothing mattered except their passion.

They were asleep before eleven, exhausted by their love-making as much as by their outing, and it seemed no time until they received the early morning call they had requested.

When they were ready to leave the hotel, Fridjof put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously. ‘Laura, you be my wife, yes?’

‘I should hope so, after all this.’ She laughed, but his puzzled, disappointed expression made her kiss him. ‘Yes, my darling, I’ll be honoured to be your wife. We don’t have time now to discuss it, so we’ll have to do it by letters.’ She wrote her address on a sheet of hotel note-paper, then looked enquiringly at him. ‘What about you? Aren’t you going to tell me where I can write to you?’

He shrugged sadly. ‘I no ...
skrive Engelsk.
Captain
skrive ...
I
laere.’

Walking to the station, arms round waists, their happiness was blunted by the imminent parting. Fridjof clung to Laura on the platform, as if he were afraid to let her go in case she would be lost to him for good, and she had to struggle out of his embrace to board the train.

‘Goodbye, my darling,’ she called, stretching as far as she could out of the window.

‘Goodbye, Laura, wife,’ he replied, tears edging out of his eyes.

She blew a kiss, waved until the forlorn figure waving back had dwindled away and disappeared, then sat down to relive the most outstanding, most wonderful, most marvellous ten days of her whole life.

Her two room-mates were out when Laura arrived back at Mrs Adams’ house. Her journey had been tiring, but she did not want to go to sleep until she had told Betty and Louise what had happened. Lying out on top of the quilt, she recalled Fridj of’s tender passion of the evening before and knew that her love for him, although it had blossomed so quickly, was deeper, more exciting, more satisfying, than her feelings for John Watson had ever been.

She had dozed off before her friends came in, and woke as Betty stormed into the room. ‘That was a lousy evening, Lep. I’ll never go out with you on a blind date again. That Bob, wherever you dug him up, was a first-class creep. Oh, hi, Laura,’ she added, noticing her for the first time.

‘Hello, Laura.’ Louise took off her jacket and hung it up. ‘I’m really sorry about it, Betty, but Bob was the only one Ernie could find who didn’t have a date for tonight.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ Betty rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t say anything at first when his hands started to wander, I just shoved them away when they got to where they shouldn’t be, but when he tried to give me a slobbery great kiss, that was the end! I thought I was being sucked in by a vacuum cleaner.’