For All Our Tomorrows (18 page)

The following Friday evening when again Bette went to meet him as usual, it was Barney waiting by the rocks, not Chad.

‘It’s okay, don’t panic, sugar. He’s just been transferred,’ Barney said as she ran towards him with fear in her eyes. ‘To some place in Devon called Slapton Sands.’

Chapter Sixteen

If anything, Hugh became more brazen in the affair, spending far more time with Iris than was strictly necessary, certainly so far as operations were concerned, yet savouring every moment.
 

On one never-to-be-forgotten occasion he did take one risk too many, openly kissing her behind the bar when really they should have been preparing to open.

He had Iris pressed up against the beer pump, his mouth to her breast and his hand up her skirt, when he heard the latch click. He hadn’t realised Sara was actually in the building and certainly didn’t expect her to suddenly walk in upon them.

Fortunately he managed to leap away in time, and Iris too was quick to snatch up a dish towel and pretend to be polishing glasses. But he felt ruffled and slightly disturbed at being very nearly caught in embarrassing circumstances by his dear wife.

Iris, however, maintained her habitual calm. She didn’t have a nerve in her body, that woman.

Sara too seemed entirely oblivious of anything untoward. ‘Oh, Hugh, there you are. I just popped in to let you know that I’m going out for a while. Committee work.’

He scowled. ‘Seems to me that damned committee is taking over your life.’

‘Really, Hugh, don’t be childish. You’re the one who never seems to be in these days. I never realised the lifeboat was kept so busy, assuming that’s what is keeping you so occupied,’ and she tilted her chin slightly as she thoughtfully considered Iris’s innocent face.

Sara couldn’t exactly swear that she’d seen anything going on between them, and she might well be imagining the frisson of tension in the air, but there was something about the girl’s expression which troubled her: a kind of smug triumph.

Hugh suddenly became very busy wiping shelves, which, to Sara’s recollection, she’d never seen him do in his life before, and his neck had turned an almost ruddy crimson.

‘I mean,’ Sara continued, having got the bit between her teeth and seemed quite unable to let go. ‘I never see you these days. I’m not allowed to serve behind the bar so we no longer work together as a couple, and you rarely seem to even occupy my bed, since you’re out half the night on these so-called ops of yours.’

‘For God’s sake, Sara!’

‘Shall I go?’ Iris smoothly offered.

‘No, you damn well won’t. This is neither the time nor the place to air your private grievances, Sara. There’s a queue outside, if you haven’t noticed, and we’re all just trying to do our bit, after all.’

‘As am I, in my committee work, which you seem to despise so much.’

Sara felt close to tears. What had possessed her to admit so blatantly to her loneliness, and in front of Iris too, who was still wearing that self-satisfied smirk. She never used to argue with him, why was she doing so now? Sara met the girl’s amused gaze with defiance in her own. ‘In fact, they’ve been asking me to take complete charge of the fund raising instead of simply one event, and I might just do that.’

‘You couldn’t possibly. What about the children?’

‘Mam would gladly come in to baby-sit. You won’t be troubled. She’s with them now, as a matter of fact. Not that you would care, since you haven’t bothered to come up and see them all day.’ Sara was breathing hard, desperately trying to calm herself, wanting to ignore the challenge in the girl’s eyes and believe in her husband’s innocence. Unable to bear it another minute, she turned abruptly on her heel. ‘I must go.’

Hugh hurried out from behind the bar and took Sara gently by the shoulders, as he was apt to do when he thought she was being unnecessarily stubborn and needed a good talking to.

‘You see what a state you’ve got yourself into, over absolutely nothing. Doesn’t that prove my point that you are doing far too much? I’m only concerned for your sake, darling, that this dratted committee doesn’t ruthlessly take advantage of you. Far from taking on more work, I really think you should give it up altogether. As for my own affairs, er – work, it is vitally important, but you know that I really can’t tell you anything about it.’

‘Of course not. Bye, darling. Bye, Iris.’

Hugh followed her out, determined to continue with the argument, and win it. Iris quickly dashed into the stock room and pulled out an attaché case from the back of a cupboard where she hid it. Within seconds she’d made contact and was speaking in soft, hushed tones, quite unaware that a small boy, who saw himself as William Brown, had crept downstairs to see what all the row was about and quietly watched her through a crack in the door.

Later, when Hugh returned, the brown leather case safely stowed away back in its cupboard, Iris turned to him with a face tight with anger. ‘You didn’t handle that at all well. It doesn’t do to alienate your wife or have her get suspicious about what you do, so why drop great big hints like that?
I really can’t tell you anything
, she cruelly quoted. What sort of damn fool remark is that? You really must take more care.’

Hugh hated it when she was angry with him, or displeased in any way. He was the hero, wasn’t he? He was the one taking the most risks, not her. All she had to do was pull pints and smile at people. What right did she have to criticise? Women could be so dratted difficult.

‘
I
must take care? What about
you
? I didn’t see you fighting off my advances just now. It takes two to tango.’

Iris had the grace to blush. ‘All right, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that
we
must, but do please be careful, Hugh. No broad hints, not a breath that you might be involved in anything untoward or secret. You must maintain an air of complete innocence the whole time. The last thing we want is to arouse Sara’s suspicions, on any front. This arrangement suits us both very well. I wouldn’t like anything to spoil it.’

‘Neither would I, so we’re going to have to gird our impatience, I suppose and wait for later.’ He was smiling down at her, trying to make light of the incident but his eyes were greedy with need as they traced the outline of her full breasts, which he no longer dared to touch.

He saw her relax slightly and cast him a teasing glance up through the sweep of her lashes, a smile curving her scarlet lips.

‘I can see why you fell for her though. She really is lovely, particularly when she’s in a paddy. I feel so fortunate that you’re even prepared to look in my direction.’ Iris was playing her little girl act now, which always turned him on, knowing how tough she really was. It suited her purpose to do so, although this never seemed to occur to Hugh.

‘Your wife doesn’t know how lucky she is, to have you for a husband. I’d certainly appreciate you more than she seems to do, nor would I complain all the time about being neglected, or bombard you with inappropriate questions.’

He had to take her in the stock room after that piece of flattery and give her a quick one before tidying himself and pulling back the bolt to allow the usual rabble of GIs in.

Somehow, Iris had a way of always saying, and doing, the right thing. She made him feel wanted and special, and it give him pause for thought as to why Sara didn’t appreciate him more. If, in fact, he hadn’t married the wrong woman after all.

It proved to be a busy night in the pub and afterwards he took a big risk and walked Iris home. He’d seen Sara come in and slip upstairs to bed. Guessed that she’d be asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, never dreaming that her husband was anywhere but where he should be, either behind the bar serving late customers, on patrol with the coastguard or called out for service with the lifeboat. Hugh was arrogantly confident that she certainly wouldn’t imagine for one moment that he was lying naked in Iris’s bed, nibbling the rosy tips of her breasts.

He crept into bed sometime around two and Sara automatically turned to snuggle up against him. ‘Oh, your pyjamas are cold. Where have you been? No, sorry, I shouldn’t ask. Hugh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so petty before. I’d no right to quarrel with you. I was in a mood, I expect. It’s just that I miss you so, miss what we had, before the war, when we worked together. Well, I don’t mind so much for myself, it’s the children I’m thinking of. They rarely see you these days. I do love you and think you’re terribly brave, in case I haven’t said so already.’

‘Of course you do, darling.’ Hugh wasn’t listening, he was very nearly asleep.

‘You’re not involved in anything terribly dangerous, are you? Just tell me that, at least.’

She sounded so contrite, so sweetly concerned, and Hugh experienced such a rush of pride that he forgot all Iris’s words of warning and arrogantly informed her that he could say nothing, thereby making it perfectly plain that he was.

But then he wanted Sara to know how very important he really was, instead of regarding him with that faintly amused expression which somehow managed to make him feel foolish. She’d always been a quiet, self-contained sort of person, and despite him being so much older than she, and having won her, he was never certain that he fully understood her, or that he had her complete respect. It had been exactly the same with his mother, who hadn’t seemed to care for him very much either. So cold, so clinical, and so very distant.

He wanted his wife to appreciate what a fine man he was. Perhaps if Sara saw that the danger was real, his work vital, she might view him differently.

Tonight, Iris had told him that more information was needed on German defences of the Channel coast, that if he was able to supply it, she might have even more important work for him in the future.
 

‘It will be dangerous, of course,’ she’d explained. ‘The kind of risk which makes what you’ve done so far look like a Sunday School picnic.’

‘Can I ask what sort of operation it would be?’

‘Not yet, sweetie. You just carry on being a good boy. You’ll be told when the time is right.’

They’d enjoyed several hours of pleasure in her bed after he’d locked up, drunk some rather good wine and now he felt drowsy and sated. Even so, her words made his heart pound every time he thought about what she might have in store for him next.

Could he take it? Could he deal with yet more danger?

Although he felt a chilling fear deep inside, Hugh knew that he thrived on excitement, that whatever the challenge, he would accept it. He was gaining a reputation for being tough and reliable and rather hoped that one day he might be mentioned in dispatches, or awarded a medal for his services.

Therefore he felt more than prepared to do whatever Iris asked of him, was almost burning up with curiosity to learn what it might be.

Overwhelmed suddenly by tiredness he lightly kissed Sara’s cheek, desperate for sleep. Burning the candle at both ends, not to mention the physical gymnastics between himself and Iris, was beginning to take its toll. More sleep was essential.

Seeing how tired he was, Sara felt a stir of guilty compassion that she’d ever suspected he was doing anything but what he claimed: his duty.
 

She couldn’t claim that her marriage was perfect but Sara believed that she’d been reasonably content, hopeful that once the war was over, things would improve between them. Hugh was her husband, after all, and she did miss working with him, lazy and inconsiderate though he might be, and wanted to do so again.

What had possessed her to feel that awful burst of jealousy over Iris, she really couldn’t imagine. Surely nothing but an over-vivid imagination, or her own sense of guilt.

Had she reacted so badly to Hugh’s close proximity to the bar maid, which was no doubt entirely innocent, simply because she needed an excuse to dally with an American officer, one whom she really should try to avoid.

Every day when she drove around, doing her collections, there he would be, driving along in his jeep. He only had to catch at glimpse of her and he would flash his lights, encourage her to stop so they could have a chat, or pass the time of day for a moment. Worse, Sara was perfectly capable of flagging him down too, if only to remark upon the weather, or how busy she was, anything to spend a little time together. Not that either of them admitted as much, but the need was there, unspoken between them.

And if she didn’t see him, she found herself looking out for him, a small ache of disappointment nestling between her breast bone.

Often they would both attend the same meeting to discuss some fund raising issue that they were involved with. On these occasions, Sara would sternly remind herself that she was unmoved by his presence, that it was strictly business if, afterwards, they slipped along to the Odd Spot for a quick cup of tea together.

Charles Denham was simply a friend, nothing more.

Hugh was her darling husband whom she’d been badly neglecting of late, so what right did she have to complain of his neglect of her? Perhaps if they could get their sex life back on track, Sara thought, she would stop having fantasies about what it would feel like if Charlie kissed her.

Sarah snuggled closer, swallowing her pride, these strange aches of longing. ‘Is that why you don’t want me quite so much these days? Because you’re too exhausted from these secret missions you’re involved with? I thought we might try again, some time soon. Now, if you like.’