Guarded Passions (2 page)

If only Adam were here, Helen grieved inwardly, Ruth would have listened to him. And Adam would have known how to put Hugh Edwards in his place.

‘Perhaps you'd better tell me how you came to meet this boy,' she said as calmly as she could.

‘Hugh's a man, not a boy, Mum,' Ruth said, exasperated. ‘He's six years older than me, so even if you think I don't know my own mind you can't say the same about him.'

‘Where did you meet him?'

‘In Brecon, of course. I haven't been anywhere else now, have I?' Ruth snapped impatiently.

Helen bit back the sharp retort that rose to her lips. She was shocked that Ruth had become so involved in such a very short time and furious with Hugh Edwards for playing on the emotions of a girl so naïve.

‘And where was this, at a café or something?'

‘Oh, Mum!'

The irritation in Ruth's voice rankled Helen and she felt her temper rising. ‘Look, young lady. I wasn't at Brecon so I don't know what went on. If I had been there,' she added pointedly, ‘I would have made quite sure you didn't go around getting picked up by the local men.'

‘Picked up! What's that supposed to mean?' Ruth flared. ‘I didn't get “picked up” as you put it. The vicar had arranged for Hugh to come and give us a talk …'

‘And, at the end of his talk, he asked you for a date … just like that!'

‘Mum! You're being quite impossible. If you can't discuss the matter sensibly then let's leave it.'

‘I'd like nothing better than to drop the subject and never hear it mentioned again,' Helen told her coldly.

Ruth shook her head despairingly. ‘How can I make you understand?' she implored. She walked over to where her mother was sitting, and knelt on the floor beside her. Taking Helen's hands in hers she looked up into her mother's face, her own eyes pleading. ‘Mum, Hugh and I love each other. Don't say anything more until you know him better.'

Helen's heart ached as she looked down at her daughter. With her hair in a pony-tail, her sun-tanned face devoid of make-up, she looked so very young and vulnerable.

‘Ruth, you've only known this man for a week,' she protested. ‘We know nothing about him, or his background.'

‘Mum, Hugh is a soldier,' Ruth said impatiently. She stood up, moving away from her mother's side. ‘And he's in the Guards, the same as Dad was!'

Helen felt bemused. Suddenly it all fell into place. Now she knew what it was about Hugh Edwards that had seemed vaguely familiar. The man's arrogant bearing, the square shoulders and straight back, the clean-cut look of his short hair and his highly-polished shoes should have given her the answer. They were all trademarks of a trained soldier, especially of a Guardsman. She should have realised that the moment she met him!

‘How did you come to meet a Guardsman on Brecon Beacons?' she asked in bewilderment.

‘I told you, Mum, only you weren't listening. You were too busy being sarcastic. Hugh came to give us a lecture on self-survival and afterwards he stayed on to have coffee. Well … that's when I met him!' She gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘It was love at first sight.'

‘Love! You may be infatuated, but I can promise you it's not love,' Helen said scornfully. ‘Oh, I admit he's good-looking, very charming and …'

‘You must be talking about me!'

Helen looked up, startled. She hadn't heard the door open. Hugh was standing only a few feet away from her. She felt herself colouring as she met his intense stare.

‘Yes,' she said stiffly. ‘As a matter of fact we were. I was asking Ruth how she came to meet you … and when.'

‘And has she told you all you want to know?' he asked with exaggerated politeness.

‘I'm not at all reassured by what she's told me.'

‘Really!'

Helen was aware of the laughter in his dark eyes. She wanted to hate him, but his sheer animal magnetism made him a formidable adversary. As she forced herself to return his gaze, refusing to bow to his male superiority, she could readily understand how Ruth had become so infatuated.

Instantly they recognised each other's strength. His dark eyes narrowed fractionally, as if conceding that she was a worthy opponent.

‘Is there anything more you want to know?' he asked coldly. With studied deliberation he reached into his hip pocket for his Army pay-book and held it out to her. ‘This may help. Name, number, rank, date of birth, length of service. Oh, and married status, of course. At present that reads “Single” …'

‘But we plan to change that.' Ruth smiled, linking her arm through Hugh's.

‘Do stop talking so silly, Ruth. You're going to university. And that's that!'

Ruth's face fell, but she was not to be deterred. ‘I know that's what we agreed, providing my exam results were good enough, but things have changed now,' she argued.

‘Of course your results will be satisfactory,' Helen snapped defensively. ‘If they're not, then I'll certainly want to know why.'

‘No, Mum. It really isn't important. I'm in love and I want to get married as soon as possible.' Confidently, Ruth looked up into Hugh's eyes. His arm went round her shoulders possessively, as his lips brushed her brow.

‘Three years is nothing, it will fly past,' Helen persisted. ‘Think about it, you'll still only be twenty-one when you graduate and you'll have achieved something that will stand you in good stead for the rest of your life.'

With tears misting her grey eyes, Ruth made one last plea. ‘Try and understand, Mum,' she begged. ‘Hugh and I may have only just met, but we are deeply in love.'

‘Rubbish!'

‘No, Mum. We truly are. We both know we will never feel this way about anyone else.'

‘Then prove it!' Helen exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Go to university and, at the end of that time, if you both feel the same way about each other, then you can marry … with my blessing.'

‘It's no good, Mrs Woodley. Our minds are made up,' Hugh said firmly. ‘We intend to marry right away. I want Ruth to come with me when I'm posted to Northern Ireland.'

‘When you are what!'

Ashen-faced, Helen rose from her chair and stared at Hugh. ‘No!' Her voice cut like a lash. ‘I don't want to hear any more. You're the first man she's been out with! It's sheer infatuation on her part. In three months' time she'll have forgotten what you even look like,' she added relentlessly.

She felt full of remorse as she saw Ruth's eyes brim with tears and her mouth begin to quiver. She longed to hold her close, to comfort and warn her – she had long experience of Army life and she didn't want Ruth to go through the agonies of loneliness and uncertainty that she had endured.

‘There's no need to raise your voice or make a scene,' Ruth told her coldly. ‘You can't stop me from getting married. I
am
eighteen, you know!'

‘And you're going to university.'

‘No, Mum! I only agreed to go because I wanted to get out of this dead-and-alive hole. Don't you understand? I feel trapped. I need to meet people of my own age, see some life, and have fun.' Her voice rose hysterically. ‘It was the only way I could find out if others think like I do and want to sit up all night drinking coffee and talking non-stop about the things they believe in and care about. I want to be able to do crazy things, like drive to the beach for a midnight swim without people raising their eyebrows, or trying to stop me.'

‘Ruth! Listen to me …'

‘No, Mum …
you
listen. Life was great when we lived in the barracks. There was always something happening, like discos and parties. There's not even a youth club in this dump.' She flung her arms wide. ‘I want to live again!'

‘Ruth, stop it!'

‘You don't understand Mum, do you? It's all right for you, you don't need excitement. You don't even like music. Look at the fuss you make when Mark has his stereo on.'

‘Leave me out of your row, I can fight my own battles.'

Ruth and Helen both swung round at the sound of Mark's voice. He was standing in the doorway, frowning angrily.

‘But she doesn't understand, does she?' Ruth yelled. ‘She always makes you turn it down. Neither of us ever has the guts to stand up to her. Look how she creates if you want to go into Winton to a football match. And so you stay at home. You've got no real friends. You spend all your time working on the farm.'

‘Just shut up, Ruth,' Mark growled. ‘If
I
don't mind, then why should
you
care?'

‘That's just the point, Mark, you ought to care. You have an even worse life than I do. You haven't made any friends at all since we came to live in this dump. Don't forget we only moved here because Mum wanted to. She was all right … she had Donald …'

‘Shut it, Ruth! You've said enough.'

‘In fact, more than enough,' Helen snapped, her cheeks flushed with anger. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you went to your room and stayed there until you're ready to apologise.'

‘There you go again, treating me as if I'm a child. I'm a woman, Mum. I'm going to get married … that's final.'

‘If you do marry this man it won't be with my blessing,' Helen shouted. ‘I won't encourage you to throw your life away. And as for you,' she exclaimed bitterly, turning on Hugh, ‘go! Get out of my house! I never want to see you again.'

‘How can you talk like that, Mrs Woodley?' Hugh said quietly. ‘I understand from Ruth that you were married at eighteen. You didn't throw your life away, did you?'

For a moment Hugh's dark eyes held hers in an hypnotic stare, as if he could read the secrets in her very soul. Then the muscles round his mouth tightened and, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, he moved towards the door.

‘No!' With a startled cry, Ruth grabbed his arm. ‘If Hugh goes, I shall go with him,' she sobbed.

Helen knew from the expression on her daughter's face that she meant it. She glanced quickly at Hugh, expecting to see triumph in his eyes. But he wasn't even looking at her. His arm was encircling Ruth, holding her close. And the tender devotion on his face tugged at Helen's heart.

As Hugh's dark head bent slowly, almost reverently, until his lips gently touched Ruth's, Helen turned away, tears in her eyes. She was defeated and she knew it.

Helen remained downstairs late into the night knowing it would be impossible to sleep. It was as if someone had turned the clock back … back to 1943 when she had been eighteen and just as adamant as Ruth about marrying the handsome soldier who had captured her heart.

Memories of her life with Adam came flooding back, some joyous, some sad. There were the long hours of loneliness, when they'd been separated, for weeks or even months. There were also the treasured moments of passion, when need and desire had made their love a burning fever, almost too wonderful to endure.

As the morning sun sliced the blue-and-white floral curtains and cast dancing shadows on the peach-coloured velvet headboard, Helen Price opened her eyes, looked around her pretty bedroom and sighed blissfully.

The day that had been ringed in red on her calendar for so many months had dawned at last and she was home. Her school-days were finally over. She had finished with crowded, noisy dormitories, living by the bell, lessons and compulsory games.

She stretched lazily, before checking the time on her bedside clock. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself; she could lie in bed until mid-morning if she wanted to. Exams were over, school was over, and the future stretched ahead like an endless reel of blank paper. She smiled to herself, wondering if Miss Butts, her former English teacher, would have approved of such a simile. It seemed strange to think she would probably never see her again, or any of the girls she'd lived and studied with for seven years. Most of them were going straight into the Forces. In fact, she seemed to be the only one not exchanging her gymslip for a uniform, she thought, wistfully.

The last time she had been at home she'd tried to persuade her parents to let her join up, but neither of them would even consider the idea.

‘Don't you think this family's done enough to help the war effort?' her father had snapped. ‘My chauffeur's in the RAF, the gardener's in the Navy, our cook's working in a munitions factory, and even the housemaid has joined the WRNS. Your mother's done more than her share of war work as well. When she was Billeting Officer she sorted out all the evacuees sent down here from London and now she's so involved with Red Cross work that I'm left with no help at all in the surgery. And
you're
talking about volunteering! Well, you can forget it. University for you, my girl.'

Helen stretched again. University was months away; there was still time to try and make them change their minds.

She heard her father unlock the door to the surgery, which had been built onto the side of their rambling, old stone house. Even the war hadn't managed to interfere with his strict routine, she thought, as she threw back the bedclothes and padded over to the window. Leaning out, she noticed how overgrown the garden looked. Before their gardener had gone into the Navy, the lawn had always been as smooth as a bowling-green and the flower beds a riot of colour. Now, the borders were full of weeds and even the grass needed cutting.

Jimmy will have a fit when he comes on leave, she thought, as she pulled on a pink linen skirt and hunted for a blouse to wear with it.

The house had the same neglected air. It was clean and tidy, but there were no welcoming bowls of flowers anywhere and no savoury smells coming from the kitchen.

As she rinsed her breakfast dishes, Helen saw her father hurrying towards the garage.

‘You've finished surgery early, Dad,' she called through the open kitchen window. ‘Do you want a coffee before you start your rounds?'