His Diamond Bride (6 page)

‘Come to think of it, there was always something slightly wrong between us,' Mark brooded. ‘She was so beautiful and I wanted her like mad, but we never seemed to talk about much. Not that we needed much talking, but when we did—I don't know—there was nothing there. I kept meaning to back away, but then she'd give me that look and I'd melt.'

‘I know,' she said softly.

‘You do?'

‘I saw you melt.'

‘Yes, you don't say much, but you see a lot more than most people, don't you? You saw what a fool I was.'

‘You weren't a fool,' she insisted. ‘Everyone gets carried away by their feelings sometimes.'

‘Not you, I'll bet,' he said with a faint friendly grin.

‘I'm just eighteen; there hasn't been time,' she said with an air of primness.

‘That's not the reason. You've got your feet on the ground, not like the rest of us.'

My feet aren't on the ground,
she thought.
I'm floating on air because I'm with you. If only I could risk telling you, but I can't because you'd run a mile.

Instead, she spoke brightly, sounding confident. ‘All right, I'm sensible and I know what I'm doing, so you listen and take my advice.'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

‘Stretch your arm a little way across the table so that your hand's close to mine, but not touching.'

He did so.

‘Inch your fingers just a little bit further.'

‘As though I was longing to touch you but didn't dare,' he suggested.

‘That's right. You've got the idea.'

He did it perfectly, fingers almost brushing hers, drawing back quickly, then venturing forth again. She wondered how often he'd done this for real, teasing a girl into thinking that he was her humble suppliant, and involuntarily gave a small choke of laughter.

‘What's so funny?' he asked. ‘Aren't I doing it right?'

‘Perfectly. In fact, too perfectly. This is how you get the girls to like you, isn't it? Make them think you're meek and hesitant, and they're in control.'

‘You
are
in control,' he pointed out.

‘But you're not trying to win my heart. I mean the others. I'll bet it works with them.'

He grinned. ‘Sometimes. Some like it that way, some like a man to seem more dominant. I have to vary it.'

‘You're a cheeky so-and-so,' she said.

‘That's another approach that pays dividends,' he admitted. ‘All right, all right, I know we're only play-acting. I'm not aiming to win dividends from you, I promise. I wouldn't dare.'

‘Just don't forget that,' she said, trying to sound stern.

At the same moment they both burst out laughing. Heads turned at the sight of Mark Sellon having such a good time with Sylvia's sister, then nodded wisely. Aha! Perhaps that was the reason Sylvia had vanished.

‘Permission to touch your fingers,' Mark murmured.

‘Just a little.'

His fingertips brushed hers, withdrew, advanced again, paused, withdrew.

‘Don't overdo the meek bit,' she advised.

‘I'm nervous. I fear your rejection.'

She choked again. ‘Stop it,' she said in a quivering voice. ‘I can't keep a straight face. You don't do “nervous” very convincingly. It doesn't come naturally to you.'

For answer, he took her hand in his, letting them lie together on the table.

‘Thank you,' he said. ‘I feel happier holding your hand. I'm not sure I could cope without you. I'm just so confused by all this—'

His grip tightened suddenly. Dee didn't speak, but grasped him in return, knowing it was the only comfort that would get through to him now. He smiled and nodded to say he understood, and they stayed like that in silence until he said, ‘Let's go. Getting drunk doesn't seem like such a good idea any more.'

Hand in hand, they rose and headed for the door.

‘They're watching us,' she murmured.

‘Then let's give them something to watch,' he said, pulling her close and laying his mouth on hers.

It was gentle, not passionate; a kiss for show, with just enough there to tell the onlookers what they wanted to know, then it was over and he escorted her out.

‘You didn't mind my doing that?' he asked as they walked away.

‘No, it was very clever,' she assured him breathlessly. ‘Just what we needed to finish the show.' With an effort, she assumed a comically lofty tone. ‘I thought we did that rather well.'

‘So do I. In fact, I think I can hear applause.'

As one, they stopped and took elaborate bows to an unseen audience. People walking in the street hurried to the other side, well away from this alarming pair.

‘You see that?' she said. ‘They think we're mad.'

‘How could anybody think that?' he demanded dramatically.

‘Anyone who knows us, I imagine.'

He tightened his arm around her, not to kiss her now, but to lean sideways and let his cheek rest against her hair.

‘Yes, they don't know the half of it,' he agreed.

‘But at least we're mad together. We have that.'

‘It's the only thing that's keeping me sane right now.'

At her doorway, he stopped, saying, ‘Let me take you out somewhere tomorrow night.'

‘Yes, we must be convincing.'

‘No, that's not the reason. I want to thank you for everything you're doing. I don't know how you put up with me.'

‘I work hard at it.'

‘Good. Don't stop. Tomorrow night, then.'

‘Actually, I can't,' she said with dismay. ‘I'm working tomorrow night, and every night until the end of this week.'

‘You're not trying to dump me already, are you? At least it took Sylvia four months to get fed up with me.'

‘Don't be daft,' she chuckled. ‘I'm on duty at the hospital. I'm a working woman.'

‘Then I'll wait on your pleasure. Let me know the first night you can manage.'

He hesitated, and for a blissful moment she thought he would kiss her. And he did. But only on the tip of her nose. Then he walked away, fast.

Dee entered the house quietly, hoping that her parents would have gone to bed, but they were still up. To her relief, they greeted her calmly and Helen had softened towards Mark.

‘I was a bit hard on him, wasn't I? It's not his fault. Is he all right?'

‘He's coping. I'm trying to help him,' Dee said. ‘But he needs time. I'm going to bed now. Goodnight.'

She hurried away, unable to endure any more talking. She
wanted to be alone with her memories of the evening. Mark's heart was still Sylvia's, and she knew she was a long way from the fulfilment of her dream. But for a while she'd had him to herself, enjoyed his whole attention, felt his lips on hers.

In bed she snuggled down, pulling the blankets over her head so that the world was reduced to this tiny space where she could relive his kiss again and again, and dream of the time when it would be truly meant for her.

‘One day,' she whispered. ‘One day soon—please—'

She was young enough to believe that if she desired something fiercely enough she could make it happen. Wasn't he already half hers? It was just a question of being patient. She was smiling as she fell asleep.

For the next few days she saw him only briefly as he arrived for work in the garage. Her hours were full as her duties increased. Although still technically a student, she was at the top of her class and often assigned to extra duties around the hospital. These were always carried out under the eagle-eye of her superiors, but she was trusted more than any of the others, due to Mr Royce's recommendation. He seldom praised her to her face. But she came to realise that he expressed a high opinion of her to others.

When she tried to thank him, he was polite but reserved.

‘You must all become the best nurses in the world,' he said, ‘because you'll soon be needed.'

‘You really believe there'll be a war?'

‘Certainly I do. And so does every thinking person. Now get to work and pass those exams in style.'

From Sylvia there was no word, but one evening, as she was leaving for work, she found a letter for her at the reception desk. It had been delivered by hand.

There was one final paragraph that stood out starkly.

Dee couldn't read any more. Inside her was a storm of confused feelings. Selfish. Inconsiderate. Self-centred. That was how Sylvia saw Mark, and it wasn't true. How could she say such things?
They weren't true!

Then the real reason came to her. Sylvia was simply trying to justify herself at Mark's expense. The relief was enormous. Of course he wasn't anything like that.

 

But you were, my darling. In some ways, you were like two men. One was the man who behaved so generously over the ruined bike, and was so tender and kind to Billy.

The other man was exactly as Sylvia had described. And why not? You were twenty-three and far too handsome for your own good, never mind anyone else's. You looked like a film star, people treated you like a film star, and so you acted like a film star. It's amazing that you were as kind and sweet-tempered as you were.

I didn't see it, of course. These days, a girl of eighteen can be sophisticated, but in those days you were still practically a child, under your parents' authority. I was far too immature myself to recognise immaturity in you, or I might have noticed that Sylvia's actions hurt your pride more than your heart. I thought you were perfect, and I tried to forget what she'd said about you.

But I couldn't. Now and then there'd be a moment when I saw what she'd been talking about, despite how much I loved you.

Why are you sleeping so restlessly? Are you having those troubled dreams again? You haven't had them for years, but I suppose the party tonight brought it all back. There, there! Let me make it better, like I did before. You always said there was no one like me to help you fight the nightmares.

Hush, my darling! I'm here…I'm here.

O
NE
night in March, when Mark was to take her out for supper, she arrived home from work, expecting to find him.

‘He's not here,' her father said. ‘I had to give him the day off.'

‘But where has he gone?'

‘I don't know. He wouldn't say. Very mysterious, he was. But he wants you to meet him at that new café down the road, and he says you're to wear your best dress.'

On winged feet she flew down the street, bursting into the café and looking around for him eagerly.

He wasn't there.

Never mind. Soon. Just be patient. She ordered a pot of tea and settled down to wait and plan. Between work and studying her schedule was heavy, but still she could count on an outing with him once a week, to maintain their pretence. And she would use that time to win his heart, so that gradually she would become his real girlfriend and then…perhaps…

Be sensible. You're not a lovelorn dreamer. You're Nurse Parsons, top of the class, probably Matron Parsons one day.

But who wanted to be sensible? With a little female cunning, it could all be made to happen just as she wanted. She began to feel like the scheming, adventurous women of history. Messalina, Delilah, Cleopatra; they had nothing on her. Soon Mark would sigh at her feet.

Or at least he might if he were here.

She had to wait an hour for him, but her heart soared when she saw his expression. He was lit up, brilliant with excitement. He rushed over, planted a kiss on her mouth, then settled in the seat opposite, holding her hands in his and almost shaking them in his eagerness.

She could have wept with joy to think that a meeting with her could do this to him.

‘I can't tell you—' he said, almost stammering. ‘If you only knew—all the way here I've been thinking what to say—'

‘To say what?' she begged, inwardly singing.

‘I've done it at last. It came over me suddenly that this was the perfect time. I lay awake all last night planning it, and this morning I asked your father for the day off.' He took a deep breath. ‘I've done it. I've joined up.'

‘You've—what?'

‘I've joined the Air Force. Not the official force but the Auxiliaries.'

She knew what he meant because since the time he'd first mentioned his desire to fly, she'd done some reading on the subject. The Auxiliary Air Force was a corps of civilians who learned flying skills and were ready to be called up if war broke out.

‘I'll stay here,' Mark said, ‘but go for training at weekends. When the war begins, I'll become part of the official force.'

‘When it begins? Not if?'

‘Come on, we all know what's going to happen. They're about to start conscripting men of my age, and if I'd left it any longer I could have been drafted into the army. By acting now, I've made sure I choose the service I want to join. And it means I can learn to fly. Isn't that wonderful?'

‘Wonderful,' she echoed.

And that was it. The dream of winning his love, his joyful look that she'd thought was for her—what had she been thinking of? He barely knew she existed.

Stupid, stupid girl! Sit here and listen to him, try to sound enthusiastic, don't let him guess what you're really feeling.

‘It'll be easier on you, too,' he said. ‘I won't be around so much so you won't have to pretend to be my girlfriend nearly as often. We'll just make an appearance now and then.'

‘That's very thoughtful of you,' she said faintly.

Sylvia seemed to be there whispering,
Be careful. He's not thinking of you really. He's done what
he
wants.

‘You said once that you dreamed of flying,' she mused.

‘Someone told me you had to have the “right background” before the Auxiliaries would look at you. But they're taking in more people now because they know what's coming. And I'm going to be part of it. I'm going to be a pilot, maybe fly a Spitfire or a Hurricane, and it'll be the best thing that ever happened to me.'

‘Unless you get killed,' she murmured.

‘I won't get killed. I'm indestructible.'

‘But you're getting ready to fight. You could be shot down, or just crash.'

‘Why are you being so gloomy?' he asked, faintly irritated. ‘I've got my heart's desire and you can only look on the dark side.'

‘Well, if you got hurt or killed I would find that rather gloomy,' she said, troubled by his inability to understand.

‘That's very nice of you, but let's not dwell on something that isn't going to happen. Come on, let's get out of here and celebrate.'

‘Is this why I'm in my best dress?'

‘Yes, we're going to The Star Barn, that dance hall in Cavey Street.'

In a plush dance hall the music came from an orchestra. The poorer ones had a piano or gramophone records. The Star Barn compromised with a three-piece band that made up in volume what it lacked in skill.

She was still a little hurt at the way Mark seemed absorbed
in his own point of view and oblivious to hers. It came too close to Sylvia's warning. But the feeling vanished as he took her into his arms, and she felt the vivid joy that possessed him communicate itself to her flesh from his. Impossible to stay troubled while her body was against his, their faces so close, his eyes alight with an almost demonic energy.

One dance ran into another until the whole evening was an endless stream of movement. It had been a hard day at work and she'd been tired at the start of the evening, but mysteriously she wasn't tired now. Every moment with him invigorated her.

‘You're a terrific dancer,' he said, gasping slightly. ‘Let's go faster.'

‘Yes, let's.'

She managed to seize the initiative, driving him on until they were both breathless, and somehow they danced out of the hall into the deserted lobby. To the end of her days she had no memory of how they'd got there.

‘You shouldn't have done that,' Mark warned her.

‘Why?'

‘Because now I'm going to do this,' he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her firmly.

It wasn't like the other times, a skilful pretence to deceive onlookers. They were alone and it was the real thing. Now the pressure of his mouth was intense and determined, saying that he wasn't fooling any more and what was she going to do about it?

There was only one possible answer. It was she who moved her lips first, not to escape his but to caress them, revel in the sensation and drive him on further. It was something she'd never done before and she didn't understand how she knew about it. The knowledge seemed to have been part of her for ever, dormant, waiting for this moment to awake. Now it wasn't merely awake but triumphant, determined to make the most of every last thrilling moment.

She was a novice, exploring the first steps of physical love, learning fast but needing to learn more. He taught her, moving his mouth against hers with practised skill, teasing, inciting, leading her blissfully to the next lesson, and then the next. She pressed closer, every inch of her clamouring to learn.

Then, with cruel abruptness, it was over and he was pushing her away from him. When she tried to reach for him again he fended her off.

‘Stop it, Dee.
We have to stop!
' His voice was harsh, almost cruel.

‘I'm sorry…what—? Did I do something wrong?' She was almost in tears.

‘No, you did everything right—too right. That's the problem.'

She misunderstood and her hands flew to her mouth. ‘You think I'm a bad girl, that I always do this, but you're wrong, you're wrong.'

‘No, I don't mean that. I know you're innocent. You must be or you'd have been more careful. Only an innocent would have pushed me to the edge like that.'

‘I don't understand,' she whispered.

He sighed. ‘No, you don't, do you?' He took her back into his arms, but pressing her head against his shoulder, careful to avoid her face. ‘Don't cry. It's not your fault. But I had to stop when I did, or I wouldn't have been able to stop at all, and then I'd have done something that would make you hate me.'

She couldn't answer. Her heart was thundering, her whole body trembling with thwarted desire.

Hate him? What did he mean? She hated him now for leaving her like this, desperate to go on to the end and discover the secret. She pressed closer to him, hoping to remind him of what they had shared, what they might still share.

‘Let's go home,' he said grimly.

They went home in silence. He didn't even hold her hand,
but kept several feet away. Dee crossed her arms over her chest as though trying to protect herself and walked with her head down, staring at the pavement, feeling alienated from the whole world, but especially from the man she loved, who was acting as though she didn't exist.

When they stopped at her front door he seemed uneasy and there was a thoughtful look on his face.

‘You're full of surprises,' he said. ‘I guess there's a lot more to you than meets the eye. Don't look at me like that. I can't explain right now, especially as your mother is just behind the curtains, watching us. But you…well, anyway…'

He dropped a modest peck on her cheek, said a hurried, ‘Goodnight,' and walked away.

Weary and depressed, Dee let herself into the house. As Mark had observed, Helen was waiting for her, in dressing gown and curlers.

‘Well?' she demanded. ‘Did he behave himself?'

‘Oh, yes,' Dee said softly. ‘He behaved himself. Goodnight, Mum.'

She ran upstairs as fast as she could.

 

As Mark had predicted, conscription started the following month, and he'd been wise to get into the Air Force while he still had a choice.

Now she saw him only briefly, as his free time was taken up by the squadron, located just outside London. Joe was immensely proud of him and showed it by giving him Saturdays off so that he could devote the whole weekend to training to be a pilot.

‘I couldn't be more proud if he was my own son,' he confided to his wife. ‘And, after all, that may happen.' He finished with a significant look at Dee, out in the garden.

‘Hmm!' Helen said. ‘Hasn't he caused enough trouble in this family?'

‘It wasn't his fault; I thought we agreed that.'

‘I just don't like what's happening to Dee. Something's not right.'

‘She's just missing him. It's happening all over the country now the men are joining up.'

He began inviting Mark in for supper on the days he knew Dee would be home, partly for his daughter's sake and partly because he was consumed with curiosity. He loved nothing better than to listen while Mark described his life as a budding pilot.

‘They let me take the controls the other day,' he recalled once. ‘I can't begin to tell you what it's like up there, feeling as though all the power in the world was yours, and you could do anything you wanted.'

‘I remember when the war started in nineteen fourteen,' Joe said. ‘Nobody thought of using planes to fight; they were so frail, just bits of wood and canvas. But then someone mounted a machine gun and that was that. Next thing, we had a Royal Air Force. I'd have loved to fly, but blokes like me just got stuck in the trenches.'

They became more absorbed in their conversation, while Dee's eyes met her mother's across the table in a silent message.
Men!

‘There's something I have to tell you,' Mark said at last. ‘They've put my name down for a new course. I'm the first in my group to be assigned to it—'

‘Good for you,' Joe said. ‘They know you're the best. But it means you'll spend more time there and less here, doesn't it?'

‘I'm afraid so. They reckon the war will be declared pretty soon, so then I'll be in the Air Force full-time. Perhaps you should start looking for another mechanic.'

Dee heard all this from a distance. It was coming, the thing she dreaded, the moment when he would walk away to the war and she might never see him again. Time was rushing by.

She had grown cautious, sensing a slight change in Mark's
manner. Since the night she'd come alive in his arms, she'd sometimes caught him giving her a curious look. She was shocked at herself, wondering if her forward behaviour had damaged his respect for her.

When they were alone, his kisses were fervent, even passionate, as though he was discovering something new about her all the time. But then he would draw back as though he'd thought better of it, leaving her in a state of confusion. With all her heart she longed to take him past that invisible barrier, and she hadn't much time left to make it happen.

After supper the three of them listened to the wireless. The official news from Europe was worrying, but what had really caught people's attention was the fact that when King George VI and Queen Elizabeth went on a visit to Canada, they were escorted by two warships.

‘And there's a rumour that those ships carried thirty million pounds in gold, for safe-keeping in Canada until it's all over,' Mark had said.

Until it was all over. What would life be like then? Another universe in which he might, or might not be alive. She shivered.

She tried to speak normally, but it was hard when everything in her was focused on one thing—to be alone with Mark, in his arms, kissing him and being kissed, feeling her body burn with new life. Her heart was breaking, yet she must try to pretend all was well.

At last he rose. ‘I think I'll take a breath of fresh air,' he said casually.

Eagerly, she joined him and they slipped out into the privacy of the garden. The next moment she was in his arms.

‘Why must you go now?' she begged. ‘It's too soon.'

‘I have to. But I'm going to miss you so much,' he said hoarsely.

‘Yes…yes…'