The Hills and the Valley (64 page)

He tutted. ‘Of course, I know it's not ideal. I suppose if you really wanted to stay with Amy it wouldn't be so bad. Now I'm to be based at Exeter it's not that far away. And to be honest I don't think the war is going to last that much longer anyway. Then things will be much more settled.'

‘No,' she said in a small voice. ‘You don't understand. I can't leave Marcus.'

‘What do you mean, you can't leave him?' He was sitting up too now and there was an angry edge to his voice, a cover for emotion.

‘I can't leave him.' She felt small and lost, yet quite sure of what she had to do. ‘I married him. He needs me.'

‘But you don't love him.'

‘No, but what has that to do with it?'

‘Everything. You don't love him. He doesn't even treat you properly. I won't let you go back to him. You can't!'

‘I have to. I don't know what would happen to him if I left him. He'd fall to pieces completely. He might even commit suicide. He's threatened to. If that happened I'd never forgive myself.'

‘That's his problem.'

‘And mine too. I'm his wife. He's sick, Huw. I couldn't be happy with you if …' Her voice tailed away as imagined horrors paraded before her eyes. ‘Besides,' she went on, ‘there's Hope. He'd never let me take her. I told Mum that. Can't you imagine what would happen? The Spindlers would fight for her. There would be a terrible tug-of-war. Suppose I was to lose?'

‘You wouldn't lose. No court would take a child away from her mother without a very good reason.'

‘The Spindlers could be reason enough. I can't risk it, Huw.' She covered his hand with hers. ‘Not even for you.'

Their eyes met. He saw the absolute decision in hers and dropped his own. For a moment they sat in silence. Then he said, ‘Well, what are you going to do?'

Her resolve wavered. ‘I don't know.'

He curled his fingers round her wrist. ‘I'm not letting you go again, Barbara. Not now.'

‘No,' she said. ‘Oh no. Please don't let me go, Huw. I couldn't bear it.'

‘Though I don't know how I can bear to let you go back to him.' His voice had a hard edge. ‘To know you're with him – to wonder what he's doing to you …'

She made up her mind. ‘I'll tell him I want separate rooms. I'll go that far. Only I can't leave him. Not at the moment.'

‘And we'll stay in touch?'

‘Oh yes, yes please. You can write to me at Mum's. She'll pass the letters on to me. And we'll meet whenever we can. How long are you here for?'

‘Fourteen days.'

‘Can I see you? Every day?'

‘Try keeping me away!'

‘Oh Huw …'

He pushed her back into the grass and once again she forgot everything but his nearness as he kissed her, caressed her and their bodies met in a fusion of love.

‘Why did you leave me?' Barbara asked. ‘All that time ago, why did you write and tell me to find someone else?'

They were in the field again; over the past week it had become their special place where they could be alone together, talking, loving, cherishing the stolen moments. Every day she had walked from Hillsbridge House to Valley View with Hope in the pushchair, then left the child in Mrs Milsom's care while she and Huw were together. The housekeeper had been wonderful. She asked no questions, made no comment about their preoccupation with one another, yet seemed to understand their need for privacy. Her support was unexpected for she came of a generation raised on strict propriety, but in this instance her collusion was absolute. Perhaps it was because she had never liked Marcus, Barbara thought, whereas over the years she had grown as fond of Huw as the son she herself had never had and this was her way of getting her own back'at the golden boy from the leisured classes she so resented. Or perhaps over the years she had secretly hoped that the undeniable bond between Barbara and Huw would deepen into love and cement together the family which had become her life. Whatever the reason, she had made things easy for them and Barbara was filled with warmth and gratitude.

The weather, too, seemed to be on their side. The skies remained high and blue and the air warm and what rain there was fell at night and was gone again by morning.

‘Why did you write me that dreadful letter telling me to forget you?' Barbara asked again. ‘Was it because you thought I was too young?'

It never occurred to her to ask if it had been because he had not loved her. She knew now that could not have been the reason.

Huw was silent for a moment. Obviously Amy had never told Barbara of her fears. He sought around for an answer and decided on the truth.

‘Amy thought you were my sister.' He felt her stiffen. ‘It's not true,' he said quickly. ‘But she thought we shared the same father. Haven't you ever wondered why she took me in? Well, that was the reason. She thought Llew was my father.'

‘But he wasn't?' Barbara said after a moment.

‘No. I discovered the truth too late. I was going to tell you everything was all right – there was nothing to stop us being together. But then I was shot down and by the time I got back to this country you were married.'

‘Oh my God,' she said. Her thoughts were churning. ‘You mean …?'

‘You can understand how I felt, stuck in France, knowing you were carrying on with that … that bastard … and not able to do anything about it.'

‘Yes.' Tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘Oh Huw, if only I'd known! I thought you didn't want me. I was trying to forget you and Marcus seemed so charming. But I'd never have rushed into marrying him ifit hadn't been for thinking you didn't want me. I was just trying to forget.'

‘I know.' And he did. Somehow without long explanations they were both able to read the other's thoughts. But there was still something he had to ask her. ‘Have you told him yet that you want separate rooms?'

She was silent for a moment. She could not lie to him, yet did not want to tell him the truth either, that she had not yet summoned up the courage to make the final break.

‘I haven't had the chance yet. But I will.'

‘Oh Barbara! I can't bear to think of you with him.'

‘It's all right,' she said hastily. ‘He hasn't touched me. He very often doesn't – for weeks on end.'

‘Well, I hope he doesn't. And I hope you soon find the opportunity to tell him. You're mine!' His voice was fierce, his hands on her shoulders demanding and proprietorial.

‘Oh yes, I'm yours,' she whispered and let him push her back into the grass.

On Huw's last evening Barbara dined with the family at Valley View. Marcus had had to be invited too, but he had declined, pleading a prior engagement with the manager of one of the Spindler farms, and Barbara was relieved. It was bad enough sitting through the meal with only Amy, Ralph and Maureen to witness her efforts to hide her misery, if Marcus had been there as well it would have been impossible.

As always on occasions such as this Mrs Milsom had excelled herself and in spite of the shortages the meal was superb – Barbara found herself wondering how the family were going to manage with their rations for the remainder of the week. But doing justice to it was an impossibility. The food stuck in her throat and she felt faintly sick. Each time her eyes met Huw's she tried to smile, but the clock on the mantelshelf was ticking the minutes away and the despair gathered within her until it was almost akin to panic.

They were talking but the conversation seemed to spiral over her head.

‘I don't know how much longer I shall be flying special ops,' Huw was saying in answer to a question Ralph had asked him. ‘The more of France that is liberated the less need there will be for my brand of specialised pick-ups. I could end up doing nothing more exciting than transport services – and maybe a parachute drop or two over Germany if I'm lucky.'

His words penetrated through to her and Barbara looked at him sharply. Was this how the dangers of war had affected Huw? Would he ever be able to settle to a normal life again or would he continually seek the thrill of danger to set adrenalin pumping like a drug through his veins?

When Mrs Milsom had removed the dishes they sat for a while around the table, then moved to the drawing-room. Barbara sat beside Huw on the low comfortable settee, aching to touch him yet knowing she must not. Whatever their relationship in private, however aware the others were of it, in public propriety must be maintained.

At last Ralph moved.

‘I don't want to break up this party but I'm afraid I must. It's a working day tomorrow.'

Barbara stood up. Her limbs felt like lead. At least Huw was going to drive her home in Amy's car (his own had no petrol in it though it was still in the garage under wraps) and they would have that little time together. But on the short journey she could not bring herself to speak. If she did she was quite certain she would break down altogether.

Huw turned into the drive of Hillsbridge House. Behind the blackout it looked dark and unfriendly against the deep violet of the sky. He pulled into the yard at the side of the house, well out of view of those blacked-out windows, and turned off the engine.

‘Oh Barbara, I wish I could take you with me.'

‘I wish you could.'

Such ordinary words, filled with so much emotion.

He reached for her and they were in each other's arms, kissing, clinging, each unwilling to let the other go.

‘You will write?'

‘Try to stop me! And you will tell Marcus – separate rooms?'

‘I will, I promise. I couldn't bear it now if he …'

‘Oh Barbara, I love you.'

‘I love you.'

More kisses. More caresses, increasingly frantic.

‘I want you!'

‘We can't! Not here!'

‘There's nobody about.'

‘No!' But they did. It was awkward and fumbled, yet equally as loving as any of their unions.

Afterwards she said: ‘I'll have to go.'

‘You can't. I won't let you.'

‘I have to!' Her panic had a new dimension now, a dark fear she could not explain. At last he released her.

‘Go on then.'

‘Huw …'

‘Go on, quickly, before I change my mind, start this car and get the hell out of it taking you with me.'

‘Huw …'

‘For God's sake, Barbara, go!'

She went, kissing him one last time. He waited until he saw her open the door of the house then drove away. She watched his tail lights disappear down the tree-lined drive and the tears ran unchecked down her face. But they did nothing to ease the bleakness in her heart. When she could no longer see the lights or hear the engine she went in, shutting the door behind her.

There was no sound from any of the downstairs rooms. The Spindlers had all retired to bed. She crept upstairs, hoping Marcus was asleep. More darkness. But when she opened the door of their room and entered stealthily the light snapped on.

‘Where the hell have you been?'

He was standing by the window and the blackout curtain was slightly awry. His hair was a little tousled and he was wearing his silk dressing gown. Barbara's eyes flicked to the bed; the covers were thrown back untidily as if he had already been in bed and jumped up hastily to look out of the window – when he heard the engine of the car, perhaps? Hot colour flooded her cheeks and automatically her hands flew to check the buttons of her dress and pat her hair into place.

It was a mistake. She saw his eyes narrow.

‘We stayed talking. There was such a lot to say since it's Huw's last night.' She knew she was babbling.

‘You were with him.'

‘He brought me home, yes.' No point denying it. ‘Someone had to. You wouldn't expect me to walk.'

‘You've been out there with him close on an hour.'

‘Oh surely not!'

‘You think I don't know? I've been here watching and waiting. You must have had a hell of a lot to say!'

‘We did – I told you …'

He came towards her. His eyes were bright with the fever she had grown to fear. She took a step backwards but his hand shot out, gripping her arm.

‘If you let him touch you, I'll kill you!'

‘Marcus – please – you're hurting me!'

‘And I'll hurt you more before we're through. You are my wife and don't you forget it!' His hand was a vice on her arm; still holding her fast he ripped open her blouse. She sobbed.

‘Marcus! Stop it!'

He ignored her, freeing one breast from its covering of silk and lace. She sobbed again as he pushed her back towards the bed.

‘Marcus!'

He was on top of her now, one hand covering her mouth to stop her cry. Her skirt he bunched up, tearing at her panties. She struggled, knowing it was useless but desperate to stop him. She couldn't let him take her now, with the touch of Huw's body still on hers. His weight was squeezing the breath out of her, his knee forcing her legs apart. As he entered her she threw back her head, closing her eyes tightly, her lips parted in a silent scream. He moved in her roughly, his body tearing at her tender membranes, still moist thankfully from her time with Huw, and she lay submissive now, knowing there was no point in resisting further.

When it was over she lay feeling used and sore. Then her anger began, creeping slowly through her, until it built to a crescendo. She jumped up, pulling her torn dress round her and facing him with fire in her eyes.

‘How dare you!' she blazed. ‘How dare you do this to me?'

‘I'm your husband!'

‘Yes, God help me, you are! But I won't be used like this. Not ever again. I want my own room. With a lock on the door. If you won't give it to me, I'm leaving you!'

His supremacy had been expended along with his twisted lust. He looked like a frightened small boy.