After the Storm (45 page)

They took another taxi, this time to the church which was darkened by soot though the windows were lit by the lights inside. Their heels made sharp sounds as they walked to the
front and Don turned and smiled. He was sitting with Albert who was best man and whose face hung even more than usual from his brows. Always the same ray of sunshine, thought Annie, and squeezed Don’s shoulder. He turned and grinned but he was nervous and had bunched his handkerchief in his hand and was kneading it.

‘Like your hat, bonny lass, and like seeing you even better,’ whispered Don and she was back again amongst the life they had lived together, one that she had avoided until now, but why, she wondered? She glanced at Sarah who nodded.

‘Nice to be back, is it, little Annie?’ she asked and squeezed her hand. Yes, thought Annie, and realised that the veneer of speech and polish was thin indeed. Sarah was looking along the pews searching for Val who had come up from Gosforn separately. There was a wave across the other side and there she was, in pale blue with her handkerchief out, sitting with Bob who was smiling.

‘Oh dear, she’ll cry,’ she whispered to Annie who giggled and waved across to the plump woman.

‘Tom couldn’t make it after all, then,’ Annie breathed into Don’s ear.

‘They’re still in London. Tom’s mural is almost finished but not quite.’ He pulled a face. ‘He’ll see us when he gets back.’

The pews were dark brown and the hymn books wobbled in their binding. The blue stamp of St Mark’s Church was faded on the flyleaf and she was glad that Don had chosen ‘Eternal Father’; it was Da’s favourite. She had not been inside a church since the convent and here, today, there were no chrysanthemums but dahlias; red, yellow and purple. There was no incense either to laden the air but Albert’s stale smell was just the same. Thank God for Sarah’s Chanel. Maud was late and Don fidgeted.

The vicar came out from the side chapel. God almighty, she thought, it’s the same vicar who buried me da but without the dewdrop this time and then the organ stirred them and Maud arrived. The vicar still said ‘Gond’ and Annie wanted to laugh.

The reception was at Merthyr Terrace, at Maud’s home, but the neighbours would have their doors open for the overflow as always. They walked along the streets and Annie talked to Bob about Tom and thought how much older he looked. ‘It’s the men,’ he explained to Annie, ‘still no work and now perhaps the
war.’ She talked to him of Grace and whether she and Tom would every marry; she did not want to talk of that subject, the one which the papers ran as headlines. It was the wrong time for war. This was to be her time; Tom’s time.

The ham was pale pink on the table which was stacked high with plates and salad bowls and punch. Betsy stood near with Joe, hand in hand, and Annie kissed her and shook Joe’s hand.

‘Are you well, Betsy?’ Annie knew that she was. Her face was relaxed and her eyes were soft and Joe laughed as Annie said, ‘And your lad’s coming back soon, then.’

‘Oh aye,’ said Joe. ‘He’s always got a room with us, they both have, Grace and him.’

Annie nodded. ‘And how’s May?’

Betsy smiled. ‘Her other boys are back so she’s happy. Made me a patchwork quilt for our bedroom. It’s lovely, isn’t it, pet?’ Joe nodded his reply.

Betsy looked over towards the table with the drinks, then handed her glass to Joe. ‘Get me a barley-water would you, pet?’ He smiled and moved away.

Betsy looked up at Annie, almost shyly. ‘I’d never have thought I’d be this happy, you know.’

Annie looked after Joe. ‘Is it because of him, Betsy?’

‘Aye it is, lass.’ She paused and searched for words. ‘I had to do something a long while ago that I thought would make me unhappy, but it hasn’t. It was gradual, see, very gradual but I love him now. But I still keeps me own name and he still pays me for doing the housekeeping. I don’t want to get back to being a skivvy, see.’ She looked confused and defensive and Annie held her arm and looked into her eyes.

‘You’re right, Betsy, absolutely right.’ The people were pressing round them and Joe was back with Betsy’s drink and Annie thought of the way her father had treated Betsy and the old anger was back again, though it had never really gone and she swallowed it down as she always seemed to be doing.

‘I tell you what, Betsy,’ she said taking herself in hand telling herself that she would think about it some other time because, try as she might, it was something she could not throw out completely as Georgie had said she should. It just wouldn’t go but lodged inside the black box, waiting. She shook herself. ‘I tell you what,’ she repeated. ‘Tom and I will make you some
matching curtains for your bedroom when we’re in business, how about that?’

Joe shook his head. ‘I reckon that might have to wait, lass. We’ll maybe have a war.’

Sarah had found Albert over by the food. He was drinking beer by himself.

‘Well, Albert,’ she said planting herself in front of him. ‘You didn’t destroy Don, then, like you promised you would. It was the destruction of Annie though to begin with wasn’t it, but they’ve both escaped. So Archie wasn’t destroyed either, was he?’ She hated this man for what he’d done to Annie.

Albert sipped his beer. ‘Just an old dried-up prune you are, Sarah Beeston.’

She wanted to tip his beer out all down the front of his suit but just smiled.

Albert turned from her and looked at Don. ‘He’s a good boy, that one. He’s not like his da, not a high-flier like the girl. He’s been all right to me and I’ll be all right to him, so let’s leave it at that.’ He moved from her, into the other guests, his eyes hooded and she heard him say into his beer. ‘Like me own son he is. A good boy that one.’

And she felt moved and saw him as he really was, lonely and unsure.

Annie had moved on from Joe and Betsy, waved to May, talked to Bob and then saw Ma Gillow peering into her cup of punch. Good God, she’s trying to read the bloody fruit, she thought, and felt the laughter well inside.

‘She’s trying to read the fruit then, is she?’ and he was there, just like that, a glass of beer in his hand and her breath caught in her throat. ‘You’ve changed a bit, bonny lass.’ Georgie was so close she should have been able to sense him there, should have known he was within a mile of the place, and then he turned her to him. Tears were caught on the lids of her eyes and her lips were tight together and she could not see him unless she blinked and if she blinked the tears would loosen and weave downwards like the rain on the train windows.

‘And where the hell have you been, you little bugger?’ she said and he wiped his thumbs beneath her eyes and held her
head between hands which were still the same only broader, stronger.

‘Waiting for today, bonny lass,’ he said and kissed her lips and eyes and hair and she heard no one, saw no one, just him as he held her and drank her in.

Then Don was there, standing in front of them. ‘I see you remember one another,’ grinned Don. ‘About time too, lad. She was turning into an old maid before our very eyes. Like the khaki, like the pips.’

She saw then the Sam Browne belt, the pips not stripes and felt his arm tighten round her and the hardness of his straps against her.

‘Took too long getting them though, Don,’ Georgie said, but Don was away again and his eyes were the same brown as he asked. ‘Did I, hinny, did I take too long?’ His skin was brown and his smile white and one-sided as it had always been.

‘Never too long to wait, not for you.’ She stroked his face and then the speeches began and the toasts were drunk in sparkling wine and beer was pulled as afternoon turned to evening and the dancing began but all she noticed were his hands as he held her, his arms round her strong and certain; his voice as he talked and his eyes as he listened, his lips as he kissed her. All she felt was her body wanting his, because her love was the same, only stronger.

Ma Gillow bumped into them as she wove her way through to the punch again. ‘Told you you’d do well,’ she smirked, ‘but it should be with Tom. You mark my words, it will be with Tom.’

Annie laughed and Georgie grinned. ‘It will too Mrs Gillow, just wait until the lad gets back up here.’

‘But there’s the war, isn’t there?’ And Georgie’s face grew still.

Then Sarah came and smiled at Annie. She shook Georgie’s hand and he leaned forward and kissed her.

‘Thanks for looking after my bonny lass, Sarah. And for your letters.’

Annie felt her jaw drop and she turned to Sarah who had blushed.

‘Yes, I just thought a few letters might help keep you both in touch. I do so hope I didn’t interfere.’ Annie laughed and kissed
her cheek. ‘You really are the most extraordinary woman and I love you so much.’

Sarah turned to Val who had come up behind them. She could not speak, just nodded and turned away. Val sighed and looked at Annie. ‘She’s waited a long time to hear you say that and I’m right glad you have but we’ll get off home now. We won’t be seeing you tonight, I dare say.’ She patted Annie’s cheek and they were gone.

Annie ran her hands over his uniform. It prickled her and his shoes were so shiny, Mother Superior would have had him straight in the conservatory, she thought, as they left two minutes later.

The streets were empty but still lit and they found his hotel room without ever feeling the pavements change to cobbles and the dry night to drizzle.

This time there was no fear of bairns, of passions which frightened and confused. They were not two children beyond their experiences but two people who talked and kissed and remembered their youth together; who spoke of their times apart.

The room was whitewashed and the curtains were soft pink. The light came from two bedside lights and the double bed was soft. He undressed her and kissed her shoulders as he slid the clothes from her body, kissed her breasts and her stomach, her thighs and she lay and watched as he unbuckled his belts and threw his clothes over the armchair which stood in the corner. His body had hardened since that day on the beach and he was tanned except for his buttocks which remained stark white. There were still the blue-ridged mining scars down his back that he would never lose.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she breathed as he walked towards her and his eyes crinkled as he stood by the bed and looked from her face down the length of her body.

‘You are so beautiful. I hope, bonny lass, that you have been loved?’ His eyes found hers and there was a question in them that demanded an answer.

Her voice was level and strong when she answered, ‘Yes.’ Because none of her men had touched the place she kept for him.

Her hands felt loose with relief as he smiled and nodded and said:

‘As I have too, bonny lass, but it never touched you at all.’

There need be no lies with Georgie and that was something she had always known. He sat down on the bed and his weight made the bed lower and she slid towards him.

‘How long will you be in Woolwich?’ That was where he had told her he was posted.

‘Not long, my darling. There could well be war.’ She pulled him to her then, covering his mouth with hers, not wanting to hear that word here, in this room with his body so close to hers. She could smell his skin and it was the same as it had always been. His mouth grew demanding, his hands were feeling her breasts, her thighs and she stroked his back, his legs, his arms as they moved along her body and she loved his strength, his power.

‘I want to leave the light on, my love. The missing has been so hard and I must see and feel every second of tonight because that’s all we have for now.’

His voice was deep against her mouth and his breathing fast as she rose to meet him and she knew only the dark rush of years without him and his touch which was the same today as it had been so long ago. Evening turned to night and still they clung together, still their passion remained and had to be satisfied once more.

They did not sleep all night. His arms were round her, stroking her hair, telling her of the heat and dust, the beauty and filth. The memsahibs who drank tea and were fanned by bunka wallahs and looked down their noses at pitmen who became sergeants and sergeants who became officers. She told him of Manchester and Tom’s progress, his limp and his tiredness. His talent and her determination that they would provide work so that her patients, or some of them at least, would recover from illnesses which should not kill but did.

‘Will you be here, in England, for a while, my darling?’ she asked as she kissed his fingers which had just teased her to such heights.

‘I should be, if the war doesn’t happen. I’m with the Engineers now, bomb disposal but there aren’t any bombs, thank God, so we build bridges instead, or blow ’em up.’ He pulled her close to him, breathing in her scent. ‘If there’s a war, God knows where I’ll be. Maybe it will be back to India but it
won’t be for long and we can get married, my love, you can come back with me.’

Her stomach tensed, her back stiffened and she felt every breath.

‘There won’t be a war,’ she said. ‘There can’t be war, not after the last one.’ She turned to him, kissing him fiercely. ‘No, we need not marry, not yet. There’s no need.’

His eyes were closed and she kissed them. ‘We are together now, there’s time to make plans later.’ She kissed him again and again and slowly his arms closed round her.

The next day he left on the early train which would take him back to Woolwich until he could see her again.

‘If we were married,’ he urged, ‘you could come with me.’

But she shook her head. ‘There’s time for that,’ she repeated.

Annie walked to the station two hours later and, apart from the click of footsteps which were her own, a Sunday silence cloaked the streets. The glazed lightless shop fronts seemed to hang and the scent of her home town was all around, the black dust lay on each sill, in each gutter. Suddenly the sky brought darkness and lightning clawed the clouds which rolled thick and black and the wind sucked air in great gulps and hurled harsh rain which poured down drains and swirled in the alleys. On and on it came, soaking through her coat. Her tongue tasted the savage cut of water and she could neither see nor hear until suddenly it was over and she was frightened and alone and calling for Georgie deep inside but he had gone and she had not left with him.