Ellie (80 page)

‘Couldn’t we have a chat some time before I go?’ Bonny slid one leg out of the car, but she didn’t attempt to move the rest of herself. ‘I’d like to explain properly.’

‘What’s there to explain?’ Jack gulped. ‘We were just two kids, that’s all. We weren’t meant for one another.’

‘Meet me tomorrow evening?’ She fixed him with her eyes. His rugged, endearingly ugly face was stirring up memories. She was sorry she let him down so badly, and now that she was marrying John she had a desire to clean up messes she’d left behind her. ‘I was going to catch the six o’clock train back to London, but I could catch a later one. You could just drive me to Three Bridges and we could have a drink on the way and one last chat.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Bonny, that’s asking for trouble.’

She reached out and put one hand on his cheek. Jack could smell heady, flowery perfume. The touch of her cotton glove evoked a memory of meeting her after evensong in the churchyard and the taste of her lips on his.

‘I’ll be under the railway bridge at twenty to six. If you don’t come I’ll understand.’ Her voice was soft and sweet and it seemed without guile. ‘But I’d like to think we can still be friends.’

She didn’t wait for his reply, just got out of the car and walked on. Jack revved up the engine and shot off past her. His throat was dry, his palms were sweating and he knew in that moment that he hadn’t entirely cut her out of his heart.

‘Promise me you’ll work hard at making your marriage work,’ Lydia said unexpectedly, just as Bonny was preparing to leave. The sound of girlish giggling was wafting up the stairs from the studio – eight small girls waiting for their class to begin. ‘John is a good man and he deserves more than just a decorative wife. Do you understand what I mean?’

Today Bonny had noticed Lydia was suddenly looking older. Her once glossy chestnut hair was peppered with grey, there were lines around her eyes and her chin was no longer so firm. Her figure was still so good it drew attention from her face, but Bonny had observed that she no longer ran lightly up the stairs, or danced with her class with her old exuberance.

All at once she sensed a certain sadness in her adopted aunt. She must be forty-four or five now; perhaps she’d finally come to regret that she never married.

‘Yes. I do understand what you mean.’ Bonny felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t always shown her appreciation for this woman who’d done so much for her. ‘I do love him very much, Auntie!’

To her surprise, Lydia drew her into her arms and hugged her fiercely. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get to see you very often after the wedding,’ she said with a break in her voice. ‘Somerset is such a long way away and I expect you’ll have children soon to occupy you. But keep in touch and remember I love you, and don’t cast your parents off, Bonny, you are all they have.’

‘I love you too,’ Bonny whispered. ‘Thank you, not just for having me now, but for everything in the past.’

‘Go on now.’ Lydia gently pushed her away. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t run you to the station. I’ll see you in church.’

Bonny waited under the bridge until ten to six. It had been colder today, with a grey sky, and now she felt distinctly chilly. Jack wasn’t coming after all: she could see the garage was all closed up. She looked at her watch again, picked up her case and turned towards the station incline, feeling dejected.

It had been such a nice break being with Lydia, the best time she’d had with her since she left Amberley to dance. Lydia had told her so many funny stories about things Bonny had done years ago, and it was strange hearing an adult version of incidents she’d forgotten. So many of them were connected with Jack. It had brought home just how much he had meant to her.

A car spun round the corner very fast and pulled up with a squeal of brakes. For a moment Bonny didn’t recognise Jack: he was wearing a trilby hat pulled well down over his face.

‘Hop in, quick!’ he hissed. ‘And put your head down so no one sees you.’

‘Can I sit up now?’ Bonny giggled after a few minutes. They seemed to be going very fast, lurching round bends. ‘This is like something out of a spy film.’

‘I shouldn’t have come,’ he said, his voice stern. ‘I need my head testing.’

Jack drove all the way to Billingshurst before he decided it was safe to stop for a drink. ‘My customers come from miles around,’ he said. ‘And people talk.’

‘Village people are so small-minded,’ Bonny said airily. ‘Why shouldn’t two old friends have a drink and a chat?’

‘In our case you know exactly why,’ Jack said tersely, pulling up beside a small pub, seemingly miles from anywhere. ‘I know Ginny wouldn’t like it. I doubt your fiancé would either.’

Over the first drink Jack told her how clever Ginny was at doing up their home, how she could knit, sew and cook better than Mrs Baker. By the second drink Bonny was telling Jack how intelligent John was, about his travels and how he’d instructed builders to hurry up and complete the work at The Chestnuts in Somerset so they could move in after their honeymoon. Seven o’clock passed unnoticed as they had a third drink and Jack began to tell her about all the other kids who’d been in his gang.

‘Eric Turley married Amanda Nash and they live in Arundel now, expecting their first baby. Peter Samms stayed in the airforce. Colin Atkins was killed right at the end of the war, shot by a German sniper in France. But John Broom went on to university, he’s going to be a lawyer.’

They sank back into the past, laughing as they both dredged up old memories, ignoring the time purposely.

‘It wouldn’t have worked for us,’ Bonny said eventually, gulping down her fourth large gin. ‘I was cruel the way I broke it off, Jack, but it was the only way.’

She was far too aware of his maleness, exciting, yet disturbing. His big square hands were scrubbed clean, he was wearing a well-made dark suit and good shoes, but the symbols of success were just a thin veneer – scratch it and the rough, tough boy was still there. His plain face was mellowed by age and experience into rugged magnetism and brutish strength. Even though she tried to steer her thoughts away from his muscular body and those big, rough hands, she couldn’t help but want him again.

‘I don’t hold any grudges,’ he said, his brown eyes looking right into hers. ‘I wouldn’t have got where I am today with you, Bonny. You were always too much of a distraction.’

They arrived at the station just in time to see the last train to London chugging out.

Jack looked at Bonny and shrugged. ‘I’ll drive you. We can talk some more on the way.’

‘We’re in London now.’ Jack shook her to wake her. ‘You’d better direct me. I don’t know where you live.’

‘Fancy me dropping off,’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I should’ve found a hotel in Sussex, not made you come all this way.’ It was almost half past twelve and she felt a little guilty she hadn’t been better company. ‘You can sleep on my settee if you like. You can’t drive back now.’

Jack didn’t reply immediately. He’d had plenty of time on the long drive to think about what might happen when he got to London. Each time he glanced at Bonny’s sleeping face his resolve to just drop her at her door weakened. Now he knew he’d lost the battle with his conscience.

‘I’ll just grab a couple of hours’ shut-eye,’ he said hoarsely, as Bonny directed him through what looked like a maze of London streets. ‘I have to have the garage open at eight.’

Jack’s knowledge of London was limited to his childhood memories of Kennington and day-trips to the West End, the former being miserable ones, the latter clouded a little by drink. He was rather impressed by Kensington, with its grand houses and wide streets. Even though it was late at night, shop lights had been left on and there were still a great many people walking about.

When Bonny directed him to pull up outside some mahogany, half-glazed doors between two shops, then led him up a wide staircase with a thick red carpet, he was even more impressed. Tollgate Cottage was pretty, but it wasn’t elegant like this.

Bonny shut her flat door behind him, and for a moment they stood looking hesitantly at one another, neither able to speak. A force was flowing between them, pulling them closer. All they had once been to one another surged up, temporarily erasing the images of Ginny and John, and they fell into one another’s arms.

It was brutal, rough love-making. Jack pushed her down on to the living-room floor, his hard hands pulling off her clothes in haste. So long ago they had found ways of pleasing each other without full penetration. Tonight was the climax of all those unfulfilling trysts.

Jack forced his way into her, but total domination was what Bonny wanted and she caught hold of his buttocks, revelling in the sheer animal lust. Many men had thrilled her in the past, but this was better and purer. As he savagely bit her breasts, she clawed back at him. He was her Jack and always would be; she wanted him to leave his mark on her for all time.

Much later he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Brutality left them now, as the poignancy of first love met the sorrow of knowing this was not a beginning but the finale. Slow lingering caresses, mouth upon eager, tender mouth.

For Bonny it was like returning to fourteen again, rediscovering the heady thrills of lying petting in long grass with Jack, an age of innocence which she regretted passing.

Jack worshipped her body like a man knowing he was on his way to the gallows in the morning. He covered every inch of her skin with kisses, licking at her hungrily, breathing in deeply that sea aroma so he could call it to memory any time in the future when he might need something to assuage the guilt of betraying Ginny’s trust.

The first dawn light was creeping through the window when Jack got up. Gently he lifted the covers up and tucked them round Bonny as she lay sleeping. Tears pricked at his eyes; his heart was so very heavy. She looked just as she had when she lay lifeless on the river bank all those years ago, except she had been dressed in a soaked red siren suit then and now she was naked. But the face, without the benefit of makeup, was the same: the clear pink and white skin, the delicate fair eyebrows, the soft, slack mouth.

‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘But never again, Bonny. Never again.’

He dressed and let himself out silently. He could still smell her on his hands, his face and on his body. He would jump in the river when he got back, swim until he was exhausted. Maybe there he could put this passion to rest, where it had all started.

Bonny walked down Piccadilly towards Fortnum and Mason’s. It was just two days since she’d arrived back in London with Jack. She was glad he left before she woke: she could pretend it was all just a delightful, intense dream. She couldn’t honestly claim she felt any sense of guilt. Jack was hers long before she knew John; it was as if she had the two men in entirely separate compartments of her life. Perhaps other women might doubt they were really in love with their husband-to-be to allow such a thing to happen.

But Bonny had her own set of rules, and didn’t much care what other women did or didn’t do.

The sun was warm, the streets crowded with shoppers. Just yesterday she’d had a new permanent wave, and admiring glances from both men and women told her she looked stunning in her pink costume.

There were only ten days to go now to her wedding and her hands were full of shopping bags. John had been so generous, making an arrangement at his bank so she could get money out when she needed it. It was so lucky clothing coupons had been abandoned back in March. Bonny had always managed to get new clothes somehow, whether it was through the black market, gifts from boyfriends or using her mother’s carefully hoarded points. But to be able to sweep into shops and spend the money John had left her, that was truly thrilling.

A turquoise dress and jacket from Marshall and Snelgrove’s to go away in matched her eyes to perfection. From Bonita’s in Regent Street she’d got a delicious frothy hat and three new sets of underwear. Tomorrow she would go for a final fitting of her wedding dress and pick up Ellie’s bridesmaid dress.

Ellie was Bonny’s only source of anxiety. She just couldn’t see any way round her predicament. But John approved of Ellie. They were going to see
Oklahoma
when he got home, and once they were married and settled in Somerset, Bonny was quite sure John would be willing to help her.

She had a couple of baby nightdresses and some booties amongst her other shopping. Half an hour in Selfridges’ baby department, cooing over all the pretty things, had made her feel very soft, almost woozy. She was hoping this might be a sign she really was pregnant; that would make her happiness complete. But if not, they’d do nicely for Ellie.

Now she was going to order some special treats to have delivered at the house in Somerset. John had suggested this in his latest letter and indeed listed certain items – strange-sounding things like brie and Gentleman’s Relish, along with the more familiar Bath Olivers, Dundee cake and York ham.

A liveried doorman opened the doors for her and Bonny swept in, hoping she looked as if she were accustomed to shopping in such a place.

Never before had she seen so much food, so beautifully arranged. To her right was a huge display of hampers and picnic baskets set amongst straw and flowers, to her left, a glass-fronted counter with handmade chocolates. Further back in the store were marble slabs on which hung brilliantly feathered birds, rabbits, hares and chickens. Another counter had fish curled around wonderful sculptures made of ice, prawns and shrimps and a monstrous-looking, huge fish with fearsome teeth.

Bonny had no idea how to make a start. Her apprehension was increased by the sight of elegant-looking women talking knowledgeably to the assistants in straw boaters.

She stopped by the chocolate stand and watched while a gentleman in a grey morning suit was making his choice, and her mouth watered as one by one chocolates decorated with tiny violets, roses and lemons were placed in a magnificent gold box, as if there were no such thing as sweet rationing.

‘Good morning, madam.’ A man who looked far too dignified to be a shop assistant came towards her. He wore a green frock-coat and he had an oiled moustache. ‘Can I be of assistance?’