The Chandelier Ballroom (21 page)

Moments later it was soaring like a bird as he read on, the words in an entirely different pencil betraying new eagerness: ‘The man came back. It’s given me time to think. I’m still scared but I think I know why you want me to meet you tonight. This special thing you have for me, I hope it’s what I think it is so I’ll do it, darling, meet you there at ten. I love you with all my heart, Val.’ She had covered the entire bottom of her note with kisses.

It had been quarter past seven when her brother Sidney had gone to answer the knock on the door.

In the living room Valerie’s father had looked up from his evening paper. ‘Whoever’s that at this time of night?’ He looked across at his daughter. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

Before she could answer, Sidney was back, saying there was a soldier at the door asking for her. Immediately all eyes turned to her. ‘A soldier?’ her mother echoed, then turned to her son. ‘What sort of soldier?’

‘He says he has a note for Val, from Norman.’

Instantly Valerie was on her feet, already visualising something really dreadful having happened. ‘I’ll see what it is,’ she cried out as she ran from the room.

The man at the door looked awkward and her panic mounted. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘Nuffink’s wrong,’ came the reply in a strong Cockney accent. ‘Ain’t nuffink ’appened. Corpr’l Bowers just ast me ter give yer this note. Says fer me ter take yer answer back to ’im.’

Still imagining something dreadful, by this time unreasonably fearing it to be a note saying he didn’t want to see her any more, even though she knew such a thought to be utterly foolish, she all but snatched the sealed envelope from the man, and as he waited somewhat impatiently, tore it open to frantically scan the note.

The relief was overwhelming, yet its contents promoted an instant feeling of something like panic rippling through her as she stammered, ‘I can’t possibly give him an answer straight away, but if you could come back in say about half an hour, I can give my answer to you then to give to him. Please. Can you do that for me?’

The man sighed mightily. But in his pocket was the price of three free pints of beer, very acceptable to a man on an ordinary soldier’s pay. ‘I s’pose I could,’ he said, half begrudging.

‘But you will come back?’ she pleaded, her expression so full of anguish in case he didn’t that his heart melted. He thought of his own girl back home in London, how she’d feel if she was going through whatever this girl was experiencing. Yes he would come back. Then he’d go to the pub to enjoy his third buckshee pint before delivering the girl’s reply to Corporal Bowers. The note could wait that long to be delivered at least.

For Valerie Prentice, labouring in her bedroom over her reply, waiting for the man to return seemed never ending. She was downstairs in the living room again, very much on edge, when the second knock did come and she was off the settee, making for the door before anyone else could move.

She’d told them it had been a note from Norman and needed an answer, the man coming back for it. She said he’d been unable to get a pass this week due to a lot of extra training but wanted to know if she’d be free on Monday.

Having handed her reply in its sealed envelope to the man, she ran up to her bedroom to scramble into a hat and coat, a pair of sturdy shoes and to grab her handbag. Downstairs, out of breath, she put her head round the living room door just long enough to say she was popping out to see her friend Audrey for an hour or so, retreating before they could point out that it was almost nine o’clock. It wasn’t until she was outside her gate that she paused, suddenly unsure she had the courage to go through with this.

Like most without a pass, Norman had spent the evening in the canteen, playing darts, cards, billiards and merely nattering. Those returning to camp usually made straight for there as well before retiring to their huts, and Norman had waited on tenterhooks for her reply to his message, irritation then anger gnawing at him when it failed to appear. So he was in no mood for the man’s sly wink when it was finally slipped to him as he sat on his bed, despondently cleaning his equipment, aware that it was getting very late for Valerie to come now. He’d slipped that tyke enough for him to get drunk on and he hadn’t bothered to deliver until now.

With hardly a thanks apart from hissing that it was about time, he ripped open her reply. His heart should have soared reading it, but all he could think of was the time. Nine thirty, not all that long to post being sounded, but maybe just time for what he wanted.

Muttering to Mac, who was already stripped down to his trunks ready to relax on his bed, that he had a headache and intended to walk it off for a while, he left him grinning, the man’s bloody eagle eyes no doubt having seen the folded envelope being slipped to him despite the undercover move.

Norman ignored him and went out. At the perimeter fence, where it had become rather broken down but so far unnoticed by the authorities, he stood, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness as he looked up and down the lane with its overgrown weedy verge. There was no sign of her and his heart sank. Maybe she too had felt it was too late now to meet him.

It was so quiet, eerily quiet. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted, a sharp, ‘Wit …’ instantly answered by its mate, ‘Woooo …’ on a much longer, drawn out descending note. People usually thought it a single bird, but he’d learned long ago that it was two birds not one – male and female.

Several times the calls were exchanged then ceased abruptly, the pair having probably flown off. In the silence he could just hear the low, hardly discernible rumble of traffic on the distant Arterial Road, carried on the quiet night air over the few miles of rolling fields. Most likely military vehicles – these past few weeks there’d been a build-up of movement, no doubt in preparation for this possible invasion. Even here training had increased, not a day going by when they weren’t being made to clamber through tyres and up nets, swinging on ropes, leaping over ditches, negotiating narrow planks, yelling like banshees at bayonet drill, rifle practice on the firing range leaving the ears ringing, every poor sod constantly being barked at and he himself made to shout his head off relaying the commands Sergeant Price shot at him.

Still the bane of his life, Price badgered him mercilessly, taking a delight in mocking him at every turn, usually in front of the men, making him look as foolish as possible. There were times he would have joyfully liked to put a bayonet through Price. But to show one iota of spirit would have seen him confined to camp, prevented from seeing Valerie. With time running out before they were moved on, he couldn’t afford not to see her, so he forced himself to grin and bear it – or at least bear it. A grin seen as silent insubordination might also have found him confined to barracks, even marched at the double before some top brass, maybe losing his stripes, his corporal’s pay along with them, and he had needed every penny for Val’s ring.

But there was no escaping someone who harboured a special grudge against a person, looking to put him down at every turn. Kit inspection the man’s special joy, no matter how tidy his bed, how well laid-out his kit, how clean his rifle or how highly polished his boots, the man took delight in finding something wrong, even if it wasn’t, aiming to belittle him before the men. All this he kept from Valerie. The last thing he wanted was to destroy her vision of him.

Where was she? Time was going by. In fact time was running out in general with the possibility of these invasion plans becoming real. At any time all leave and passes other than embarkation leave could be cancelled. He had to slip that ring on her finger tonight as a firm promise of marriage before the command came for the big push.

He could already see himself with the whole unit aboard one of many lorries streaming through the village to be transported off to some coastal town or other, left kicking his heels with only pen and paper to keep him and Valerie in contact with each other, not knowing when he’d be told to board some ship bound for whatever secret destination across the Channel awaited him.

His stomach churned at the thought, not from fear of battle but because now he had a girl he intended to marry. The last thing he wanted was anything to go wrong now. Where was she? He dared not call out too loud but managed a low hiss, ‘Valerie?’

No sound. Doubt took hold of him. She’d gone home after all, though he couldn’t blame her. She had been anxious and a little scared. Or maybe she was waiting at another spot. He lifted his voice a fraction, urgently.

‘Valerie!’

There came a rustle a few yards from him, then a small, tremulous voice, ‘I’m here, Norman.’

Relief was almost like a stab of pain. ‘Over here,’ he called softly. ‘I’m over here.’

Moments later he was lifting her over the trodden-down area of barbed wire, making sure her clothing didn’t get caught up on it. Her body was light in his arms, even with the weight of her warm coat. A brief embrace as he set her down, then they were running across the field, shielded from sight by the trees ahead, she one pace behind him, he holding her hand in case she stumbled. It had started to rain. The moisture already on the grass from a morning downpour was damping the bottoms of his uniform and probably soaking into her shoes.

‘I don’t like this,’ she was panting, her voice scared.

He too was beginning to wish he’d not embarked on this folly. What had he been thinking? What if they were seen, were caught? She’d already expressed her worry that he could be in more trouble than she, but it was she he was worried about, the embarrassment, and he to blame, practically forcing her to come. They had left the cover of the trees, were now exposed to any who might be outside. But with the rain getting heavier, who’d want to be out?

Moments later, however, they were by the outbuilding, he taking the key from his pocket while she stood by, shivering now – with cold or fear? Turning the key in the padlock, he fumbled with it until the metal arm was free. In a matter of seconds they were inside, in the dry, in the dark.

She was still shaking. ‘Norman, I don’t know why I’m here. I shouldn’t have come. I’m feeling so scared. I don’t like it.’

This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Before showing her the lovely chandelier that so beguiled him, he wanted to present her with the ring he had in his pocket, see her eyes light up with a glow of joy. He turned on the small torch he’d brought with him, trusting that its light would help her fear go away, but she was still on edge.

Her voice tremulous, she pleaded, ‘Let’s go, Norman. I should never have come here. I think I ought to go back home.’

For answer, he took her in his arms, holding her gently. ‘But you’re in here now. You can’t go without—’

‘I don’t care any more!’ Her tone had grown sharp. She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears as she made to move away from his effort to reach out to her, seeking to calm her. There was nothing for it but to fish into the breast pocket of his battle dress and bring out the plain little cardboard box, expensive velvet engagement ring boxes almost a thing of the past in wartime.

‘Valerie, look, I’ve got your birthday present,’ he burst out as he pressed it urgently into her hand. ‘It’s special.’

He heard her give a little gasp, her fear brushed away.

‘It’s the one I told you about in my note. Go on, love, open it.’

He watched her lift the lid carefully, and as the three small diamonds flashed and flickered in the torchlight, heard her gasp again.

‘An engagement ring,’ he supplied before she could speak. Plucking it from its cardboard niche and catching hold of her left hand, he slipped it neatly onto her third finger in one smooth movement. He had got the size right, it was a perfect fit.

‘Valerie … darling …’ he began, feeling oddly out of breath. ‘Will you marry me?’

He waited, hope faltering in the silence that seemed to go on and on, though it could only have been seconds before she spoke.

When she did, the words burst from her as if unable to be contained a fraction of a second longer.

‘Oh, yes, my darling, yes, with all my heart!’

His joy springing unbounded, he drew her to him, held her tight as they sank together onto the rough wooden floor, her lips on his, her arms holding him as though never wanting to let go. He had no thought of anything but that he was holding her, fondling her, she letting him. In a moment he knew they would make love right here, but then suddenly she tensed, dragging her lips from his.

‘No, Norman! We mustn’t!’

He moved back from her instantly, fearing rejection of his proposal of marriage. He heard himself mumbling an apology, saying sorry, he was sorry, he was very sorry.

‘No,’ she said breathlessly as she sat up. ‘No, darling, it’s not your fault, but I can’t … not until we’re married.’ Her voice was trembling. ‘One or two of my friends have boyfriends who they … you know, but my family would never forgive me if I found myself … you know. They’re very strict in that way. I think I frightened myself because I wanted to … I wanted …’

Unable to help himself, he laid a gentle hand over her lips to prevent her saying any more. ‘I do know. Believe me I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I do understand.’

He did understand, knew just how she’d felt for he’d felt the same, gripped now by this miserable frustration of his own natural instincts. Yet his own upbringing had been similar to hers, maybe even stricter. When their relationship had matured a little it might be different. He just had to wait and see.

Slowly he got to his feet, helping her up. Retrieving the still-lit torch he took a deep breath. Passion had passed but she’d said yes to his marriage proposal and elation returned. All that was needed now was to inform their respective parents, he taking her to meet his and finally setting the date. That of course would be totally dependent on present circumstances. If only this bloody war would let them carry on as young people had done in peace-time, he thought seedily. None of them knew how lucky they had been then.

They were both still feeling strained, and to dispel it he returned to his other reason for bringing her here. Time was passing. He’d begun to fear discovery, and post would be sounded soon and he still had to get her back through the fence without detection. Perhaps he should not bother to show her that marvellous chandelier that so fascinated him. In fact its fascination had begun to play on his mind so much lately that sometimes he felt he was going a little insane trying not to think about it. He even found himself dreaming about it in his sleep. He needed to lay the ghost to rest, so to speak. So he said, ‘Before we go, darling, there is one other thing I wanted to bring you here to see – the thing I told you about. Look!’