Connie’s Courage (25 page)

Reluctantly, he went upstairs.

‘Harry, I am sorry that I was so cross with you.

He tensed as Rosa reached for him, his emotions, like his body, shrivelled by her proximity.

‘Kiss me and we can make up, and I shall be good and come to your sister's wretched wedding! It will be nothing like ours, of course. Why I believe she is to wear your mother's old gown! It must be awful to be so poor! Kiss me, Harry. I am your wife, remember, and you have been very cruel to me!

In the darkness, Harry closed his eyes. All he had to do was think of Connie, his love, his beloved, for his body to swell with aching longing and tender yearning passion. He knew that; but he refused to soil his precious memories of her by
using them to enable him to fulfil his marriage vows to Rosa.

Nevertheless, he had to perform his marital duty …

The May sunshine might be sharp and bright, but the wind was still cold, Connie decided, as she stood patiently trying not to shiver in the flimsy dress, which despite Mavis's mother's skill was still overgenerous on her.

But then, the knowledge that she would be seeing Harry had stolen her appetite, and with a full two weeks to worry about that meeting – both during her working hours and those in which she should have been sleeping – Connie knew that she had gone from slender to almost pinch-faced and thin.

She had surreptitiously pulled the ribbons that tied the dress a little bit tighter to mask its looseness, reassuring herself that no one was likely to pay close attention to her since it was Mavis who was the bride.

There had been a rush of weddings on these last few weeks, the Vicar had informed them, and of course everyone knew why. Patriotic young men were determined to enlist and serve their country; and equally patriotic young women were
determined to show their support for their sweethearts by pledging themselves to them.

After a simple wedding breakfast at the New Brighton house, Mavis and Frank were going to spend a few precious days together in the Lake District.

‘I try not to let myself fear that they might be all that I have of him,' Mavis had confided emotionally to Connie last night.

But at least Mavis would have something of Frank. Something with him, whilst Connie would never … Could never, have anything of Harry.

It had hurt so much seeing him walk into the New Brighton house not ten minutes ago, so dearly familiar, and yet a heart-stoppingly handsome stranger in his khaki uniform.

He was holding himself differently, Connie had noticed immediately with a jealous lover's eyes; standing taller and prouder, and watching first Sophie and then Mavis run to him to be gathered up in his arms, she had ached so badly to do the same. Only the kiss she wanted to press against his newly-shaven skin was not the chaste one of a sister, but the fiercely passionate one of a woman who loved him.

‘Where is Rosa? Sophie demanded excitedly, whilst Connie tensed. This was the moment she had been dreading, when she must look into the face of Harry's wife and try to smile at her as though she felt no envy of her.

‘Unfortunately, she was not able to be here. She sends her apologies and her regrets.

Oh, Harry, is she not well?' Mavis enquired with immediate concern.

‘I had not realised it, but she was already promised to her cousin Phyllis, and felt she could not cancel her visit since Phyllis was so looking forward to it,' Harry answered her calmly.

Inside though he was feeling far from calm. Rosa had made it plain that she was not finished punishing him, and the look in her eyes had been spiteful as well as triumphant when she had told him that she intended to visit her cousin rather than accompany him to his sister's wedding. In truth, he was glad to be relieved of Rosa's presence for his own sake, as well as lest she mar the occasion for Mavis in some way.

As yet he had not allowed his hungry senses to feed on Connie's silent, almost wraith-like presence, but he was aware of her with every single fibre of his heart and body and soul.

‘Oh how noble that is of her, isn't it, Connie?' Sophie breathed on a small sigh. ‘I am sure I could not have endured to give up so much as an hour of Harry's company, when this is the first time she has seen him since he enlisted.'

Connie froze as she was drawn into the conversation, acutely aware that not just Sophie, but Harry, too, was looking at her.

‘We are at war, Sophie,' she managed to say. ‘And we are all of us called upon to make sacrifices.'

How stuffy and stiff she sounded, more like
Matron than herself, but how could she be herself in such close proximity to Harry.

‘Connie, is quite right, Sophie.'

Even his voice had changed, become sterner, harder. Connie tensed as Harry took a step toward her, unable to help looking fully into his face. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat, and a bittersweet longing filled her. She stepped forward, and Harry held out his hand to her.

‘You have lost weight, Connie. I hope you are not working too hard.

‘She is Sister Pride now, you know, Harry, Mavis broke in.

Silently they looked at one another. There was such a look of helpless yearning in his gaze that it dizzied her, or was it her own emotion that was deluding her and making her imagine it?

She could barely bring herself to look at him in case she gave herself away, and several minutes later whilst he hungrily devoured the breakfast his mother had made for him, Connie was not so much as able to pour him a cup of tea for fear of her hands shaking too badly.

‘Connie, I'm so nervous. Do I look all right …? Is my veil straight … Mother? Sophie? ‘Oh, my darling girl …

Connie felt her own eyes mist with tears as Elsie Lawson hugged Mavis. ‘You look so beautiful. And it was true, Mavis did look beautiful, Connie
acknowledged, as she carefully gathered up the veil and instructed Sophie to open the bedroom door.

She had known that Harry would be waiting in the hallway for his sister, and she had sworn a vow that she would not so much as look at him. But when she looked down, the gloss of his shoes gleamed so much that Connie could see his reflection in them. Helplessly, she allowed her gaze to sweep upwards.

Connie was too thin; too strained; too fragile; and he wanted to pick her up and ask her what on earth she had done to herself, Harry recognised. But of course he had no right to do any such thing. He was a married man and anyway Connie had already told him she had no use, or desire, for his protection or his love. And yet as he looked at her, Harry could see such pain in her eyes that it was all he could do to stop himself demanding to know what had caused it, and swearing to her that he would banish it.

‘If only your father might have lived to see you both.'

His mother's emotional words broke into his private thoughts and brought him sharply back to reality.

‘I think that he probably can, Mama,' Sophie was whispering softly. When I was poorly I often felt him near to me …'

For a moment they all fell silent. Unable to stop himself, Harry looked at Connie, but she had turned her head away from him.

Sophie meant no harm, and had no awareness of how bitterly painful the memories her innocent remark had stirred were, at least for her, Connie acknowledged. She saw Harry turning toward her, and quickly looked away.

Was he looking at her because he wanted her to see in his eyes his relief that she had ignored his advances? Because he wanted her to be aware of the happiness he had found with another?

A loud knock on the door broke into the sharp silence of the moment, causing Mavis's mother to exclaim, and hurry downstairs to admit the neighbour who had offered to sit with Great Aunt Martha for the duration of the ceremony. The elderly lady was now in her eighty-seventh year and virtually bedridden, although still very much a demanding martinet with a sharp mind, and an even sharper tongue.

‘I hate the way Great Aunt Martha is so mean to Mama, Sophie had burst out only the previous evening. ‘I heard her telling Mother last week that when she dies we shall have to move out since she has left this house and everything in it to a charity.

‘It is her right to do as she wishes with her money, Sophie, Mavis had chided her sister gently, before adding warmly, ‘Frank has already said that you and Mother will always be welcome under his roof.

With nearly as many horses as men recruited for the war effort, and transport difficult to come by
– even those with motor cars had been urged to either donate them for use where needed, or to use them as little as possible – they had decided to walk the small distance to the church. A small crowd had gathered to wish Mavis good luck, the children throwing flowers in front of her as she clung to Harry's arm.

The elegant little square in front of the church had already lost the railings to its garden and house, Connie noticed, gone no doubt to be melted down to provide much-needed raw material for new munitions.

As they reached the church, Harry hoped that the message he had sent saying that he would pay for the organist, the choir, and for the bells to be rung after the ceremony, had reached the Vicar, since his mother had informed him sadly that these were luxuries Mavis had felt unable to afford.

If anyone deserved a decent wedding then it was his sister, Harry reflected. For no one gave more to others than Mavis – unless it was Connie who had risked her own life to nurse his sister Sophie.

Connie almost missed a step as the church doors were thrown open and the organist began to play. Mavis had warned her that there would be no music and, as Harry urged his sister forward Connie couldn't help looking toward his proudly straight back, guessing that he was the one who was responsible for the soaring resonance and dignity of the traditional music.

Frank's Best Man was a fellow police officer
and Connie could see the brass buttons on their uniforms glinting in the darkness of the church, as they turned to watch their progress up the aisle. It touched Connie's heart to see Frank surreptitiously wipe away a tear as he gazed at his wife-to-be.

She could feel Mavis's hand tremble as she stood in front of the Vicar, and turned to hand Connie the bouquet, that had been part of her own wedding gift to her friend.

The last wedding Connie had attended had been Josie's and before that the marriage of her sister Ellie to her first husband.

How very different that occasion had been. Their Aunt and Uncle Parkes had spared no expense to make the wedding the most lavish affair.

Ellie! A small shadow crossed Connie's face. Increasingly since the start of the War she thought of her sister and their shared childhood. Did Ellie ever think of her, or did she only want to forget about the shame Connie had brought on their family? So many brave young men were enlisting. Was her own brother John one of them? A longing to see her family pierced her.

‘Speech speech!!'

Boldly risking Great Aunt Martha's wrath, Mavis's mother had set out the wedding breakfast in the dining room, and opened up the large double doors which led from it into the big front parlour. This meant that the euphoric married couple, and their
family and supporters, could take their fill of the dainty sandwiches she and Connie had prepared, along with the cooked ham, and last year's elderberry wine.

And now the Best Man was getting up to make his speech.

He spoke simply and proudly of Frank, his strengths and his love for Mavis, and when he toasted their good health and a long life together, there was a small silence amongst those listening. Every last one inwardly praying that that might indeed be so, before lifting their glasses.

And then Frank nudged his friend and whispered something to him and the Best Man grinned, laughed, and announced, As if I'd forget that. Where are the bridesmaids?'

Someone urged Connie and Sophie forward, and they were each presented with a small box, in exchange for which they had to part with a kiss for the Best Man. This took place amidst much good-natured teasing and laughter from the watching guests, as he deliberately made a great play of relishing the small intimacy.

Sophie opened her gift first, her eyes glowing with delight as she lifted out one of the tiny pearl earrings for everyone to see.

Over her head, Mavis's tear-filled gaze met Connie's, and Connie knew she was thinking, as Connie was herself, of the special trip Sophie and Connie had made to New Brighton. To keep the promise Connie had made to Sophie when she
was sick, Connie had taken the younger girl to have her ears pierced, at a local jewellers.

At the last minute Mavis had not been able to go in with her, and so it was Connie who had had to grit her teeth and fib robustly that, no it didn't hurt at all, or at least not very much, whilst knowing full well that it did.

But Sophie, bless her, hadn't done more than give a small, single squeak as she endured the pain of her small rite of passage into fashion.

Connie and Mavis had bought her her first pair of real earrings as a reward for being so brave, to wear once her poor sore ears had healed enough for the thin gold sleepers to be removed safely.

There were, of course, earrings for Connie herself, too, and Sophie was highly delighted that they would own a matching pair.

‘You have such pretty ears, Connie, doesn't she, Harry?' she appealed innocently to her brother.

Acutely conscious of Harry's suddenly compressed jaw as he refused so much as to look, Connie burned with chagrin and pain, ‘That is no question to ask a happily married man, Sophie, she chided the younger girl, with more force than she intended. ‘Naturally in your brother's eyes, no other woman's ears, or indeed any other aspect of her, could aim to match the perfection of his wife!

Connie obviously realised that he still loved her, Harry decided miserably, and that was why she had
chosen to remind him so sharply and pointedly of his duty to Rosa.

He had been achingly aware, throughout the whole of the wedding breakfast, of the way the Best Man's eyes had lit up the moment he had seen Connie. And Harry had seen too how the Best Man had drawn out that kiss he had insisted on being given before he had parted with her bridesmaid gift.