The Chandelier Ballroom (24 page)

She had a lovely nature and a smooth temper. Only once had she lost it and that had been the previous week when he’d unjustly accused her of sneaking into camp, mistaking that woman he had seen or thought he had seen, whoever she was, for Valerie. But even that unusual show of anger had been short lived. And it had been more hurt than anger; he still felt deeply sorry whenever he thought of it. He knew he should count himself lucky to have found a girl like her.

He’d tried to put the incident behind him but it kept coming back. Who was that woman? No matter who she was, why had he behaved so badly towards Valerie? He loved her dearly and she hadn’t deserved to be upset like that.

Another thing that riled him was his parent’s reaction to her, even before they’d met her, writing back to say she looked a bit too young to be getting engaged and did he really know what he was doing. How dared they? Their letter had made him so annoyed that he hadn’t answered it. It still annoyed him every time he thought about it.

Now of course he was going to have to scribble a note to them about his embarkation leave, when it was known, also that he’d be bringing Valerie to meet them. What he wouldn’t say was that their visit would be for one day only, two at a pinch. After their remarks about her age and what he could only see as a censure on whether he was doing the right thing, he meant to spend as little time with them as possible, if only to save her from any embarrassment. The rest of his leave he would spend elsewhere with her, just the two of them alone.

Wild thoughts went through his head that if he could persuade her to go away with him, spend the whole of his leave with him, they might even get married by special licence. That was if she would agree. It was a big if, but if she did agree, how would her parents react? She was still under-age and they were, if anything, over-protective of her. What if they forbade her – would she take notice of them, submit to their wishes and be the obedient daughter, or would she defy them? If she did, would she make an enemy of them? Would it make him the enemy? There was no getting away from the fact that they were nice people and had most certainly been decent enough about them getting engaged so quickly, though her father’s faint consternation at not having been spoken to first still lingered. How would they react to their daughter running off to get married in virtual secret? In their old-fashioned way of thinking, as with many of the previous generation, an engagement went on for at least a year or more, preparing for the wedding and all its trimmings, certainly not some brief register office thing.

In peace-time long engagements were all very well, but this wasn’t peace-time. The whole country gripped by growing tension, the allies waiting in the wings for the lights to go up, the orchestra to begin, the curtain to rise on the stage that was Europe – or as Mac put it more succinctly, ‘Any minute now the balloon’ll be going up!’ – a spate of hasty engagements and hurried weddings was breaking out everywhere. Would Valerie agree to join the rush to get married before the balloon did go up?

That evening Norman made his way to her house with a desperate need to talk to her, to ask her to go with him to meet his parents. He prayed she would. But would her parents see fit to let their daughter, who had only just turned twenty, go away alone with a man, even though they knew him? And if they didn’t see fit to allow it, would she have the courage to defy them? Several times she’d said she wished she was of age and able to do what she liked, but could that mean that at the moment she wouldn’t dream of going against them?

It also gave him the feeling that even when she did reach twenty-one, she’d still need to ask their blessing before attempting anything they didn’t entirely approve of. It was the way she’d been brought up, though even now she might surprise him. That little show of temper of hers the other day had proved that she did have spirit, and maybe when they eventually did marry she would become more independent of them.

Meantime, what he was about to ask her threatened to raise all sorts of difficulties – would she be too frightened to offend them? What about offending him? What about how he felt? And what would he do if she did say no to him? It was something he couldn’t bring himself to contemplate.

By the time he reached her door his mind was in turmoil, almost dreading her reply: ‘No, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.’ All sorts of fears were going through his head as he lifted the door knocker. He would not go in. As soon as she answered he would ask her, demand if necessary, that she take a walk with him here and now. They needed to have a long talk tonight, away from everyone else who might feel fit to put their oar in. There wasn’t much time to come to a decision. Within a week or two he would be with his parents. She had to be there with him, even though she’d probably feel scared at the prospect of meeting them. But he would be with her to support her, make sure she overcame her fear. His parents weren’t that daunting, even if they did feel that their son could be marrying in haste.

Of course she’d agree to take a walk with him. It could be their last time together and she’d want to have him all to herself. Would she want to have him go without some precious time together? He couldn’t see her letting that happen so things might not be as bad as he imagined. More sure of himself now, he let the knocker fall twice, gently, trying not to make it sound too loud or urgent, and waited.

It was some time before it opened. Normally she would have been watching for him from the window and would run to the door hardly had he reached it. Instead, after what seemed an interminable wait, the door was opened just a fraction. But it was her brother Sidney who stood there. Usually if anyone other than Valerie answered he’d be invited straight in without hesitation. But this time Sidney didn’t budge, almost as if he was deliberately blocking his entrance.

‘Valerie?’ he heard himself query inanely.

‘I’m sorry, Norman.’ Sidney’s voice was grave. ‘Val’s not at all well. She’s in bed. She won’t be able to see you tonight.’

Alarm clutched at his heart. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s got ’flu – has got it really bad. The doctor came yesterday and said she must stay in bed for at least a week and she certainly mustn’t go out. Not that she’s well enough to want to go out.’

’Flu! He felt himself relax a little, though he was still concerned and worried for her. ‘Can I talk to her?’

‘She’s asleep, been asleep most of the day and all yesterday. She looked proper wretched, poor Sis.’

‘Then can I pop up and see her?’

Sidney looked flustered. ‘Mum and Dad’s out. They popped round to see my aunt and uncle. They asked me to stay in and keep an eye on her in case she wants anything. They wouldn’t like it very much if you went up to her bedroom. It’s not right.’

He’d never been allowed up to Valerie’s bedroom, even though they were engaged. According to her parents it wasn’t done. But Valerie was ill and most likely feeling wretched. What did they imagine the two of them were going to get up to? He felt himself growing angry as he voiced this opinion.

‘And anyway,’ he concluded, ‘she
is
my fiancée.’

But the boy’s face held a stubborn expression. ‘It’s still not right. And they could be home any minute now and if they found you upstairs in her room, they’d be most upset and they’d blame me for letting you go up there.’

Norman stared at him in anger. ‘What the hell do they think the two of us would get up to when she’s ill? All I want is to see her to try and cheer her up. She’d want to see me. You can come up there with me to make sure there’s no foul play!’ He ended on a deliberately sarcastic note.

The lad remained adamant. ‘I’m sorry, Norman.’

‘All right, so I’ll call up to her, talk to her from down here.’

Sidney was looking flustered. ‘She’s asleep. Best she’s not woken up.’

Nothing more seeming to be forthcoming, it was like trying to push through a brick wall, the two staring silently at each other, the boy two steps above him, he on the path below, making him feel small.

He began to hate Valerie’s brother, but there was nothing he could do other than mount the two steps and barge past him and he wouldn’t do that. For all his youth, the boy was the bigger build, and how could they indulge in a tussle on the doorstep, he knowing he’d be in the wrong, no matter how he felt? There was nothing he could do.

‘Tell her I called,’ was all he could find to say, ‘and that I wish her better very soon.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Already Sidney was beginning to inch the door closed, indicating an eagerness to have him go. It was then Norman heard a small, high, querulous female voice emanating from within the house.

‘You going to be much longer, Sidney?’

It wasn’t Valerie’s voice. It came from downstairs. The lad had a girl in there. A surge of anger went through him. If this bloody young monkey could have a girl in, any old damned girl, why was he forbidden to go upstairs and see his own sick fiancée? And did the boy’s parents know that he had a girl in there?

He should have argued, but what was the point other than to make himself look a fool? ‘Tell Valerie I hope she’ll be better soon and I’ll see her as soon as I can …’

The door was already closing, making him even angrier. He’d have dearly liked to mount the two steps and hit the boy on the nose. But he’d never hit anyone in his life. His voice sounded hoarse.

‘Tell her …’ He was about to say, ‘that I love her’, but he wasn’t going to give a message like that to this lout. His unfinished words of love on his lips, he turned sharply on his heel and went back down the path. Behind him he heard the sharp click of the street door closing.

In some strange way the sound brought all the fury in him rising to the surface, and with his clenched fists he hit the top of the wooden gate several times very hard, painful on his knuckles.

It was too early to go back to barracks. At a loose end, he found himself turning into the Baker’s Arms. Not that he was looking for company, but he was desperately in need of a drink.

The pub was busy. As usual the local people were gathered together under the blacked-out windows, taking up all the hard leather settles and wooden chairs at narrow, beer stained, dark wooden tables. Sipping their drinks, they chatted closely, while soldiers stood in groups, their voices loud, their talk of home, girlfriends, conquests, or else beefing about whatever or whoever had got under their skin during the day, while their minds played on the imminent transportation by truck and train to the coast to await embarkation orders to … where? No one yet knew except that it was on the cards.

Norman shouldered his way to the bar and with what he would have spent on Valerie managed to get himself a whisky, a precious favour in these times of austerity, to help alleviate a somewhat unjust sense of betrayal and lonely disappointment, following it with a pint for good measure. Not feeling much better for the whisky, he sipped his beer, his thoughts on Valerie.

They should have been in here together tonight after having taken a quiet stroll. She having listened to his persuasive arguments might have agreed to spend his seven days’ leave with him, cementing that agreement with a long, ardent kiss, maybe allowing him a little more licence with her yielding body than she normally would, the promise of things to come.

They would have celebrated her promise in here, seeking a corner to talk over their plans. He would have told her more about his family, soothing any fears she might have of meeting them; she in turn would have given him a promise to overcome her parents’ objections to her going away with him, just the two of them alone together. But that had not happened.

He cursed the loss of tonight’s hopes even as he felt concern for her in her miserable state, silently praying over and over again for her quick recovery. But most of all he felt anger against her brother. Who did the boy think he was? Damned cheeky young sod, standing there refusing to let him in, barring the door against him like some bloody sentinel, forbidding him to see his own fiancée, saying it wasn’t right when all the time he’d got some girl in the front room, probably without his parents’ knowledge, Norman could bet his last ha’penny on that.

In fact he had half a mind to tell them of it the next time he was there – if there was a next time. By next week he could be on his way to his parents’ to say his farewells to them, Valerie still not well enough to come with him. The thought made his blood chill. She had to be with him. It could be the last time they ever saw each other.

A loud burst of laughter took his attention from his thoughts and he turned automatically towards the sound. Several servicemen had entered and were shouldering their way through towards the bar. Without much interest, Norman took in their half-visible faces between the knots of drinkers, to have his attention arrested by the sight of Nigel Price among them.

Quickly he turned back to the bar, hoping Price wouldn’t notice him. The man would grasp any opportunity to ridicule him, taking an avid delight in it. Why, Norman had no idea, except that some men delighted in picking out a scapegoat from among a group to torment. He was quite aware that his own naturally withdrawn nature was a magnet for such men. Quiet types always were to bullies such as Price. But quiet types could smoulder for years until, like a dormant volcano, they could suddenly erupt with often disastrous results. Although he told himself he was not one of those and would no doubt continue to smoulder until Price finally moved on, he could sometimes detect a little of that weakness even in his own breast.

Unluckily Price had seen him and was making a beeline for him. The next thing he knew, there was a hearty slap on the back, compelling him to turn and face the man.

‘Well, if it isn’t our corporal and all on his own too. Now why’s that?’ Giving Norman no time to answer, he went on loudly, commanding the attention of the others with him, ‘So where’s the little lady tonight? Stood you up, has she? Had enough of you, has she? I can truthfully say I don’t blame her. If ever there was a wimp, this one is!’

Norman turned back to his drink, controlling an urge to retaliate. ‘If you must know, she’s ill – gone down with ’flu,’ he said, evenly as he could.