Guarded Passions (5 page)

‘You would have had a better chance of resting your arm if they'd sent you home on leave for a couple of weeks.'

Adam's face clouded. He remembered his last leave three months earlier. His parents had been so proud to see him in uniform. They had also been delighted that he'd managed to get home in time to spend a couple of days with his younger brother Gary, who had just received his calling-up papers.

He was two years older than Gary, but they had always been close companions. At first glance they were sometimes mistaken for twins. They were both six foot tall, with broad shoulders, strong, masculine features and brilliantly blue eyes. The one striking difference in their appearance was the colour of their hair – Adam's dark like their father's, Gary's coppery-red and curly, like their mother's.

Adam knew he would never forget that first night home. It had been the end of March. After their evening meal, they had decided to go to the pub. Gary was eager to let everyone know he'd been called up and wouldn't be around for a while.

‘Don't be late,' their father cautioned. ‘You know how concerned your mother gets when you're out at night in case there's an air-raid.'

‘But there hasn't been one for over a week!' Gary protested. ‘Anyway, I'll be in the Army in a couple of days – is she going to worry about me all the time then?'

‘Probably.' His father sighed. ‘She never stops worrying about our Adam, now does she?' His arm went round his wife's shoulders as he spoke and they exchanged understanding smiles.

‘Take care, won't you?' Mrs Woodley said anxiously. ‘Don't go lighting up a cigarette out-of-doors if there's any planes overhead, in case Jerry sees you.'

‘Mum, you're a hoot!' Gary laughed. ‘Do you know, Adam, she nearly breaks her neck each evening, making sure the blackout's in place at every window in the house before she turns on a single light? She's fanatical!'

‘Better to be safe than sorry,' she told him sharply. ‘These dark nights, the smallest chink of light is like a guiding star to those devils. Now, be off with you and take your tin hats, just in case there's a raid. And if the sirens do go, promise you'll come straight on home. You'll be safer here than in a public shelter.'

‘Yes boys, do that,' Mr Woodley said quickly. ‘Your mother won't rest until she knows you're home.'

They'd been in the pub with their friends for about an hour when the sirens went. Before the dismal, penetrating wail had died away, an ARP warden came in.

‘A hundred or more bombers have crossed the south coast and are heading this way,' he warned. ‘Best thing you lot can do is head for a shelter.'

The pub emptied rapidly, and, as Adam and Gary started to walk home, they could hear the heavy drone of the bomb-laden enemy aircraft, approaching. The probing shafts of a dozen searchlights seared the night sky, followed, almost immediately, by a piercing whistle as the first bombs came crumping down around them.

The crash of masonry, as the huge missiles found their targets, deafened them and, suddenly, the whole place was an inferno as flames leapt into the night sky, and the air became putrid with dust and smoke.

They took cover in the first shelter they could find. It was packed to capacity with entire families from the nearby houses. They found themselves wedged in between a young mother with a crying baby and an elderly woman who was shivering uncontrollably with fear.

‘Let's get out of here and make for home,' Gary spluttered, coughing and choking. ‘Mum'll be worried stiff.'

‘Give it a few minutes,' Adam cautioned. ‘Once this lot have dropped their load there will probably be a lull before the next wave arrive. We'll make a dash for it then.'

He had been wrong. There had been no respite. The Germans had concentrated their entire effort on Merseyside that night. The docks took the full toll of their impact and houses for several miles inland, on both sides of the river, also bore the brunt of their onslaught.

It had been well after midnight before the all-clear had sounded. As Adam and Gary emerged from the claustrophobic confines of the shelter, the sight that met their eyes shocked them to silence. Where once had been neat rows of houses was now a mass of burning masonry. Fire engines and ambulances were doing their best to bring the flames under control and transport the injured. ARP wardens and Home Guard were digging frantically into the rubble to try and free those who were trapped. The anguished cries of the injured and dying rent the acrid air.

Sick with apprehension as to what they might find, Adam grabbed Gary's arm and hurried him along. The closer they came to home the more anxious he felt. There was devastation wherever they looked.

Adam's worst fears were realised as they turned into their own road. Where their house had once stood was a gaping hole. As he squeezed his brother's arm, trying to reassure him, he felt Gary's muscles tense, like those of an animal about to spring. Then, with a primitive howl of grief, Gary broke free and hurled himself into the smouldering rubble. Burrowing furiously with his bare hands, he threw bricks, stones, lumps of masonry, as well as smashed and charred furniture to one side. Regardless of his own safety, he scrambled and slithered into the heart of the destruction.

Two ARP wardens, yelling to make themselves heard above the rumble of falling walls and cacophony of fire engines and ambulance sirens, tried to drag Gary away. But he fought like a man demented. Tears streaming down his face, his breath rasping as dust choked him, he beat them off. As he slipped and stumbled amidst the smouldering ruins, he called out in a desperate voice to his parents, over and over again.

Realising that it was pointless trying to reason with Gary, Adam curled his right hand into a fist and swung it with tremendous force at his brother's chin. Gary's head snapped back and he slumped to the ground.

Next morning, the bodies of Mr and Mrs Woodley were dug out of the debris. Hands clasped, they had died comforting each other.

Although he had been stunned and heartbroken by the tragic death of his parents, Adam had taken charge and arranged the funeral details. He'd found temporary accommodation for them both until it was time for Gary to report to his unit.

Until now he had successfully managed to push it all to the back of his mind. Even in his letters to Gary, he never wrote of home. It was as if, by not mentioning it, it had never happened. Mrs Price's remark had brought it all flooding back. For a brief moment, he felt the need to confide in someone. He was on the point of telling her what had happened but found the memory was still too raw.

‘Nowhere to go,' he said laconically. ‘Both my parents were killed in an air-raid about three months ago. Home went as well. It was a direct hit.'

‘Oh dear, so you have no one,' Mrs Price said sympathetically, her eyes full of compassion.

‘I have a younger brother, but he's in the Army now. You don't know how lucky you are here. No bombs, no sirens; you'd hardly know there was a war on.'

‘We have our blackouts, and rationing, and all the other inconveniences to contend with,' she reminded him. ‘Still, you're quite right, we
are
lucky. Now, can you manage to carry that kit-bag with one hand or shall I find someone to help you?' she asked briskly.

‘No, I can manage fine.' With his sound arm, Adam swung the unwieldy khaki sack onto his shoulder. ‘I'd better go and wait for the duty-driver to arrive. Perhaps I'll see you when I come back in for my check-up. Thanks for all you've done for me.'

‘Take care.'

As he reached the door Adam paused and looked back. ‘Mrs Price … would you mind saying “goodbye” to your daughter for me?'

‘Yes, of course. I didn't know you and Helen knew each other,' she said, surprised.

‘We don't really,' Adam mumbled, colouring. ‘We sort of met up with each other yesterday, out in the grounds. She seems a very nice girl.'

‘Well,
I
think so,' Mrs Price said proudly. ‘She's here today, so why don't you find her and say goodbye to her yourself?' She should be taking books around the medical ward.'

‘Great!' His eyes brightened. ‘I'll go and look … Thanks a lot.'

Adam stood in the doorway watching Helen wheel the trolley-load of books around the ward. She was even prettier than he'd remembered, he thought, as he saw her oval face light up with a warm smile as she approached each bed. And much younger. Yesterday, he'd thought she was about twenty but today, in her plain pink dress and low-heeled sandals, her hair in a plait, she looked a mere schoolgirl.

He felt very attracted to her and wanted to know her better. It was a pity he was being discharged from the hospital, or that she hadn't appeared on the scene a couple of weeks earlier.

As she looked over in his direction, he wondered if she would remember him. Her lively greeting as she came towards him, her grey eyes shining with delight, cleared his mind of any doubt.

‘They've taken your plaster off. Does that mean your arm is better?'

‘Sound enough for me to return to my unit,' he told her. ‘I'll be back again in two weeks' time for a check-up.'

‘And you're leaving right now?'

‘Any minute. Just as soon as the duty-driver turns up. As I said, I'm only stationed about five miles down the road, though, so perhaps we'll meet again?'

‘I hope so,' she agreed eagerly.

‘Do you really mean that?' he asked, hopefully.

‘Of course!'

‘Perhaps I can get a lift over on the duty-truck.'

‘If you do, and I'm not here, come to my home. You'll be very welcome,' she said shyly.

‘I don't know where you live.'

‘My father's the doctor. Anyone in the village will direct you.'

His blue eyes searched her face, trying to decide whether the invitation was anything more than a polite gesture. Was her home an open house for any lonely soldier? he wondered. As they gazed at each other and he saw the warmth in her eyes, Adam sensed that she felt the same interest in him as he did towards her. Reluctantly he looked away.

‘I'd better go and see if the truck's there yet. Can you spare the time to come and see me off?'

She hesitated, looking back at the trolley she had abandoned in the centre of the ward. ‘I hope that won't be in anyone's way for a few minutes,' she murmured as she walked towards the door with him.

‘I don't even know your name,' she said as they joined the small knot of men waiting for the truck to arrive.

‘It's Adam … Adam Woodley. And yours is Helen Price. I've managed to work that out for myself!' he grinned.

They stood close together on the gravel driveway, completely absorbed in each other. When the truck arrived, Adam bent his head until his mouth hovered temptingly above hers.

For a moment she stiffened and seemed to be about to draw back. Then as their lips met, warm and gentle, delicate as the union between two butterflies, she lifted her face trustingly, as if to drink in the sweetness of his mouth.

Their kiss, though fleeting, left Adam bewitched. He wanted to draw her into his arms, crush her slim body to his own. The brief contact had stirred such deep desire in him that he was left shaken and disturbed. Abruptly, he squared his shoulders and took a pace back.

‘I have to go,' he said, reluctantly. He humped his kit-bag into the back of the truck and scrambled in himself.

‘Take care … and come back soon,' she whispered.

The vehicle took off immediately, scattering gravel in all directions. As it reached the turn in the drive, Adam looked back and saw Helen still standing where he'd left her. He raised a hand in farewell.

The next few days passed in a golden haze for Helen. Adam's brief kiss had crystallised all the ecstasy she'd ever imagined love would bring. Her heart sang with the birds, expanded with the sun's warmth and revelled in the summer beauty of the trees and flowers.

Even her mother noticed the soft, new light in her grey eyes and the fleeting smile on her lips. Pragmatically, Mrs Price attributed Helen's buoyant mood to the fact that she was helping out at Bulpitts and therefore felt useful and fulfilled. Her maxim had always been that work brought its own rewards.

Helen spent most of her time in a world of her own, reliving every second of Adam's brief caress. The tingling sensation as his face had pressed against hers, the pressure of his firm lips, and the warmth of his hands on her arms when he had pulled her to him, filled her mind completely.

In spite of his great strength and imposing physique, Adam had been so tender and gentle, that she had been breathless to respond. It had been so different from Donald's brusque approach, which had left her feeling frightened and outraged.

Each morning and afternoon when the duty truck arrived, Helen found an excuse to be near the door just in case Adam had managed to get a lift. After three days, she gave up hoping. She resisted the impulse to ask if he had been posted somewhere else, reluctant to discover that he had simply forgotten her.

A week passed, and then, to her immense delight, Adam appeared. In his khaki battledress, his forage-cap set at a jaunty angle, so that it only half-covered his shock of dark hair, he seemed even taller and broader than she'd remembered.

For a moment they simply stood there in the sunshine, staring at each other, drinking in the pleasure of being reunited

‘See you here in half an hour, Woodley, if you want a lift back,' the duty-driver called out as he swung down from the cab and headed for the Guard Room. ‘Don't be late.'

‘Right. Thanks for the lift.'

Hand in hand, fingers entwined, Helen and Adam moved away from the house and into the garden. Neither of them spoke until they reached the secluded dell near the Silent Pool. There, with only the birds and bright, darting butterflies as witnesses, Adam drew her towards him, holding her gently, yet possessively, and tenderly kissed her upturned, oval face.