The Chandelier Ballroom (25 page)

Price guffawed. ‘That’s what she told you, is it?’

‘She was too ill in bed to tell me anything. Her brother told me.’

‘Oh, we’ve heard that one before. Didn’t want to tell you herself she’d had enough of you and have you burst into tears – bloody embarrassing!’ He turned to those around him, but his resonant tones boomed across the entire room, making several people look up. ‘Here that? This man, if you can call him that, has got himself stood up by his girl. She’s probably found herself a real man.’ He turned back to his quarry, his voice still resounding across the room. ‘If you ask me, you’d be more suited to finding yourself a nice bloke.’

As those with Price chuckled at the quip, Norman stood silent for a second, striving to control himself, but it was no good. Lifting his half empty glass, he made to aim it at his sergeant, but Price was ahead of him.

Catching hold of his wrist he held it firm, his face thunderous. ‘Throw drink at me, would you?’ he challenged, his voice dropping to a whisper while behind him his mates stood chuckling. He continued to glower, holding Norman’s gaze. ‘If you think I’m going to start a brawl in public, you’ve another guess coming, Bowers. But don’t think I’m forgetting this. You know what I mean. Your life’s due to get quite a bit hotter, if you get my meaning.’

A smile beamed on his narrow face as he turned back to his mates. ‘Right, what’s everyone want to drink? First round is on me. But I won’t be staying here long, because guess what little girl I’m seeing in a quarter of an hour from now? The same little girl our friend here has been courting all this time. And he didn’t know it. While he was in barracks, I was with her. Didn’t she tell you, Bowers?’ He rounded on his victim, grinning. ‘Pity …’

He got no further as Norman’s fist came up in an effort to land it on the taller man’s chin. At the crowded bar there was no room for a good swing and the blow glanced off, but Price’s expression became like granite and he brought up a hand to stay his assailant’s.

‘Careful, Bowers, I wouldn’t if I was you.’

As he spoke, he brought the held arm sideways to swiftly guide it towards Norman’s half-full glass, deliberately knocking it over. The spilled beer spread across the bar, the publican serving behind leaping to catch the rolling glass before it fell to the floor.

‘Watch it, you two!’ he blurted as he whipped a cloth from under the bar to begin mopping up. ‘Any trouble and you’re both out! This is my pub and I’m having no fighting. Rank or no rank, I’ll aim you and him out on the pavement.’

Price shot him a tight smile. ‘Don’t worry, landlord. I’m off anyway.’

Reaching into his pocket even as Norman stood glaring at him, he dragged out a couple of screwed-up pound notes to slap them on the damp bar. ‘But I want to stand my mates a round or two, and him as well,’ he indicated Norman with a sharp tilt of his head. ‘Give them whatever they want. I know liquor’s in short supply but I’m sure you’ve sufficient there behind your bar to serve these bloody poor heroes who’ll soon be leaving these shores to finish this war for you! Although him …’ He tilted a chin at Norman, still standing tight lipped and fuming, ‘I’m not so sure about.’

Before he could retaliate or burst out that he didn’t need his bloody handout, Price was already shouldering his way through the knots of customers, leaving Norman to stare balefully after him while the men he’d entered with had already begun giving their orders, huge grins on their faces despite the publican protesting that to serve them shorts while having to refuse everyone else who asked on this busy evening would not do.

In the end, put in a good mood by two quid’s worth of free drinks, they settled for as many pints of the copiously diluted stuff as they could drink, which was quite a bit at the current price per pint. Cheering their now absent hero for his generosity, Norman and his brief ruckus with his sergeant was forgotten.

Preferring not to join their buckshee binge, he bought his own pint and went to stand as far from them as he could in a quieter corner of the pub. Brooding as he sipped, he let his thoughts go over everything Price had said. The man was lying of course with his talk of seeing Valerie. But what if … Quickly he shrugged away the idea of her and Price as ridiculous. Yet there came into his head an echo of a woman’s voice, which in retrospect now seemed almost spectral.

‘
Your lady … she will betray you
…’

He wasn’t sure of the exact words, but the disconcerting quality of it still haunted him, that and the woman’s strange disappearance at the approach of those two officers – a disappearance that had been almost uncanny in its suddenness. Even now as he drained his beer, he felt a shiver run through him at the recollection, despite having shrugged it off as some stupid trick of the enforced darkness everyone was compelled to endure.

Yet thinking of those words, a seed of doubt was beginning to make itself apparent. Valerie hadn’t complained of having had a cold. Usually ’flu would start with the onset of a rather vague if somewhat persistent chesty cold, and that last evening he’d met her, only a few days ago, she had seemed as right as rain. And that call he’d heard from downstairs in the house when Sidney had been talking to him, had it been a girlfriend or Valerie herself?

The awful thought that he was actually mistrusting the girl he loved brought him up sharply. Why should he think that? Why after all this time would he have reason to mistrust her? Standing here pondering wasn’t going to solve anything. He needed to go and have this out with her brother.

Maybe his parents would be home by now. They wouldn’t lie. If Valerie wasn’t there, they would tell him so. And if she was indeed ill, who knows, being her fiancée they might let him go up and see her for a little while, just to cheer her up.

Depositing his empty pint glass on a windowsill, he made his way out, turning in the direction of her house. But halfway there common sense clicked in. What the hell did he think he was doing? If Valerie knew his thoughts at this moment she’d never forgive him. It was that bloody Price putting evil thoughts into his head.

But of course that had been the man’s sole aim, to goad him into putting a spanner in the works. He took delight in seeing his corporal squirm, make a mess of things, a corporal he knew to be more intelligent than he and so needing to pull him down a peg or two. Well, he wasn’t going to allow Price to humiliate him this time.

His watch told him it had been well over an hour since the confrontation with Valerie’s brother – still time to try once more to see her before he needed to be back in camp. Perhaps being more insistent this time would force her brother into letting him in. What right had the young beggar to prevent him seeing his own fiancée? Yet again the doubts came. What if she wasn’t ill at all and had gone out with a girlfriend, leaving him to cover for her? And if she’d gone out, why that concocted story of being ill? Why not be truthful? Why hadn’t she wanted him to know? Was there someone else? Surely not! He’d have known. There’d have been signs long before this.

He’d come to a standstill without realising it. Coming to his senses he scolded himself for the doubts that had been going through his head and began walking back towards barracks. Of course she wouldn’t be untrue to him. He knew her well enough by now to have known that. But it didn’t solve the problem of that most important question he’d gone there to ask her. Soon he could be sent abroad – he might never see her again. Talk of imminent allied landings on French soil, though where was still undisclosed, was no longer just talk.

His mind in a whirl, he reached the camp gates, but loath to go on he stood a short way off, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter. Flipping up its cap with his thumb, he flicked the wheel against the flint. The flame leapt, strong and bright.

Instantly there came a low shout from the soldier on guard duty: ‘Watch that light, mate!’

Hurriedly, he shielded the flame with his hand, quickly letting the cap fall. The cigarette lit, he drew in a much-needed lungful of smoke. Maybe he still had time to get back to Valerie’s … He’d half turned to retrace his steps when a quiet laugh came from one of those on guard duty.

‘Are you comin’ through or stayin’ there, soldier?’

Prompted, he realised the stupidity of going back and causing a scene, delaying his getting back to camp and thus being put on a charge. All thought of her and someone else evaporated. She loved him. All he could do now was to write what he’d wanted to ask and hope she’d reply with a yes. Except that it could take time to persuade her if she was in doubt, and there was no time.

Even so, she must know that she might never see him again and surely she would move heaven and earth to be with him before he was torn away from her for God knows how long? He’d have to word the letter carefully, poignantly, putting all his heart into it so that her own heart would break enough to compel her to say yes. He’d write tonight, post it first thing tomorrow.

Yet once through the gate, misgivings came flooding back. He should have gone back to her home, should have argued. He glanced at his watch, in the dark holding it close to his face and drawing fiercely on his cigarette to see the time, surprised to find how long he had been standing outside the camp. No wonder those on duty had laughed at him.

Not wanting to go to his sleeping quarters yet, he was at a loose end. Most would be in the canteen, but he was in no mood to join them. Instead, lighting up another cigarette, he wandered on past the big house and over to the quiet of a small copse, hoping not to meet anyone, particularly any nosey parker officers who’d want to know what he was doing out here on his own. Though they were probably all in the house, from where came the distant sound of a party going on, maybe someone’s birthday or celebrating the imminent prospect of leaving behind this back-of-beyond place and actually going off to war, becoming part of the excitement of invasion, eager to get at the enemy and give him a good bashing.

Not sharing their enthusiasm, he wandered as far as he felt was worth bothering with. Finally, lighting up yet another cigarette, he turned to begin wandering back, taking his time. He needed to be alone a little while longer, not relishing the thought of going to his hut with men yapping away and swapping wisecracks as they prepared for bed.

Passing the outbuilding that housed the chandelier which had once intrigued him so, he wondered if it was still there, grinning to himself as he thought about it. What a bloody fool, letting himself become so besotted by it. Yet it was in there that he’d put the engagement ring on Val’s finger and she had kissed him so ardently. It had been wonderful – until he’d been daft enough to show her the chandelier, mucking up his chance to make love. Idiot! No wonder Price took the constant mickey out of him.

Thoughts of Price sobered him and resentment flooded back as he made his way past the outbuilding, putting on a bit of speed, and in a few moments the rear of the big house came into sight. He didn’t want to think of Price, he wanted to think of Valerie, but nothing would come. He slackened his pace in an effort to concentrate on her, but his mind seemed to have gone completely blank and he didn’t like it.

The sound of raucous jazz music coming from the house was louder now. They really were having a good time in there, those well-turned out, normally sober officers more like a bunch of navvies behind the blacked-out windows. From where he stood he could see the side of the house and the conservatory beyond, all blacked out too. Outside was completely dark, or nearly so except for the pallid gleam of the moon just rising.

Listening to the din of the officers supposedly enjoying themselves, he smirked sourly to himself against every rank over that of corporal. Seconds later the smirk died on his lips as the ripple of female laughter came to him, high and musical.

It was Valerie’s laugh, no mistaking it, that laugh he so much loved to hear. It had come from the rear door of a passage leading to the kitchen and the two rooms that served as the officer’s mess halls. He had been in there several times in his duties, taking and delivering messages and the like.

Catching his breath in shock and disbelief, he turned sharply in the direction of the laugh. The moon was casting an eerie glow, though to those used to the blackout, luminous enough, and by that faint light he could just make out two figures standing by the rear door. Again the light laughter came and this time he knew. She’d lied to him. ‘
Your lady is playing you false …
’

The voice seemed to be speaking into his ear now, as if were he to reach out he would touch whoever was speaking. But he had already galvanised into action, sprinting towards the couple, a wave of blind fury enveloping him.

In his whole life he’d never let his temper get the better of him to any excess, but now a flame seemed to explode inside him. The next thing he knew he had cannoned bodily into the tall, slim frame of the man, the impetus almost knocking them both off balance.

‘What the bloody hell …’

The yell from his quarry merged with a high-pitched shriek from the woman. He vaguely recognised it as Valerie’s voice as she fled in panic. But there was no time to think. With the man now flailing into him, it sent the two of them crashing against the rear door where the couple had previously been standing.

Under the impact the door gave, bursting open, sending both men falling through it onto the floor of the rear passage, knocking over a pile of dirty kitchen towels and a bin of kitchen waste from the day’s cooking put out for collection some time in the early morning.

Amid the strewn refuse, fists flying, the heavier of the two had instantly gained advantage and Norman Bowers knew he was in trouble. Desperately he fought to twist his head away from the blows raining down on him, wildly feeling for something to serve as a weapon of defence.

The first thing his groping hand found was the lip of a large metal can. Grasping it he brought it up sharply and swung, catching his assailant a hefty blow across the face. A flood of stinking oily liquid showered them both and the man gave a grunt, tumbling aside. Released, Norman scrambled to his knees, the can still in his grip. Automatically he swung it with all his might again and again at the other’s head, how many times he had no idea. The can was large and heavy but an instinctive need to protect himself gave him strength as he repeatedly brought the thing down with as much force as he could muster.