Lizzie's Secret (29 page)

Lizzie felt a spasm in her stomach and caught her breath. She'd always laughed his approaches off, but his tone told her that he was serious and there was something in his eyes, a need or longing, that touched her heart – but it was much too late.

‘No, Sebastian, I don't know,' she said and turned to face him. ‘I can't know. I'm married to Harry and I love him. It's too late for anything even if…' the words caught in her throat. ‘I'm grateful for your friendship. I always have been, but I can't offer you more.'

‘I don't want gratitude,' Sebastian said and looked angry. ‘Why don't you trust me, Lizzie?'

‘I do trust you,' Lizzie said awkwardly. ‘Perhaps at the start I didn't, but that was ages ago – and I do like you. If I'd known you better, I…should probably have taken your offer to work for you. I'm sorry, Sebastian, but don't you see…it's too late now?'

‘You made a mistake marrying Harry Oliver,' he said harshly. ‘You should have gone into partnership with me – and married me when you were ready. You were too young, Lizzie. I wanted to give you time. Oh, Lizzie Larch, I love you more than you could ever imagine…'

‘No, don't say it…you can't mean it…' She'd always assumed he was just flirting that he was interested in having her work for him and perhaps a flirtation or seduction– but love and marriage? For a moment the suggestion just took her breath; he couldn't mean it surely - but he wasn't teasing her now.

The appeal in his eyes, the way he seemed to catch his breath and the sheer need she sensed in him filled Lizzie with a longing to be in his arms, to be held and kissed. She was tempted almost to the point of giving in but then she realised where her thoughts were going and was horrified. No! She couldn't betray Harry. She loved him and he was her husband. This was stupid, wrong and she was just feeling lonely – lonely and resentful of this war that had taken Harry away from her. Yet the thought that he might truly care for her somehow tore at her heart, causing her pain and regret.

Why had he always seemed to be teasing and now suddenly sincere and urgent?

‘You know this isn't right,' she said gently, because something in her knew she was hurting him and she could feel his pain, echo it in her heart, and knew she was guilty of wanting what he was offering her. ‘I'm married, Sebastian. You mustn't say these things to me.'

‘I know.' He looked rueful, and just for a moment vulnerable, and then the old confidence was back and she thought she'd imagined that moment when he'd seemed to need her so much. ‘It was worth a try. One of these days I'll get you, Lizzie Larch, so don't expect me to stop trying.'

Lizzie laughed and leaned forward, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek and retreating swiftly before he could grab her and kiss her properly. She was still smiling as he left the showroom, understanding that she liked him far more than she would have believed possible when he first approached her to work for him months ago. Then she'd thought him a shallow flirt and the kind of man a girl ought to be careful of, but now she knew Sebastian went much deeper than she'd believed – and she would have liked to know more of him, but she mustn't think that way. It was wrong and much too late.

Lizzie checked her store cupboard and realised she needed to do some shopping. She'd hardly bothered recently, grabbing some chips on the way home or making do with toast and tomatoes, or cheese if she could get it. Spam and corned beef were usually available and Lizzie liked both, cooking a few mashed potatoes when she wanted a proper meal, and of course she ate with her friends once or twice a week. She knew Aunt Miriam had been hoarding sugar and tinned foods, and when she saw in the paper that one woman had been prosecuted for buying a huge amount of sugar before rationing started, she dropped a word of warning in Miriam's ear.

‘Oh, she was foolish, buying all that from one supplier. I go to lots of shops, Lizzie. You should listen to Bertie, because there will come a time when you may not be able to get what you want in the shops.'

Lizzie had bought a few extra things, storing them away for when Harry came home, but when he was away she didn't use that much anyway.

‘It's no good,' Lizzie said aloud. ‘I need to go shopping…'

Picking up her purse and her ration card, Lizzie saw that her meat ration hadn't been used for two weeks. She decided that she would treat herself to a joint and do a nice roast. Perhaps she would ask Madge and Ed to come and share it on Sunday. She reached for her coat and scarf, because it was cold, picked up her basket and went out. She would pop round to Ed's later that evening and extend her invitation…

It was late afternoon when Lizzie returned home to the flat. As soon as she let herself in, she sensed something and, as she got to the landing, she saw the light on in the living room. She gave a little scream of delight and rushed into the room.

‘Harry! Why didn't you let me know? I had no idea you were coming home…'

‘I wasn't sure until the last minute,' Harry said. ‘I thought you would be pleased with the surprise…'

‘I am, of course I am,' Lizzie said and put her arms around him, hugging him. He didn't respond immediately, and then he pulled her in so tight that she struggled to breathe. ‘I'm so pleased I went shopping. I can get you something to eat – you can have bacon and egg or a cheese sandwich…'

‘A sandwich will do. I ate on the train coming down from…' Harry broke off and shook his head. ‘Not supposed to say where I am based or what I'm doing… damned ridiculous but best not…'

Lizzie went into the kitchen and put the kettle on, then got out the fresh bread, butter and the small slab of Cheddar cheese she'd bought. It was carefully wrapped in greaseproof paper and, sliced thin, would normally last her a week for sandwiches, because she didn't eat much in the middle of the day, especially when she was busy.

‘I must have known you were coming,' Lizzie said as Harry came through and picked up the first round she cut. ‘I bought a small joint of brisket and I haven't done that in ages. I was going to invite Ed and Madge, but of course I shan't now.'

‘You sound disappointed. Perhaps you would prefer I hadn't come and you could have a cosy evening with your friends?'

‘Harry, don't be ridiculous! I was just saying. It seemed a good idea, and if I didn't invite my friends sometimes, I'd go mad sitting here alone every night.'

‘Well don't look so bloody miserable about it,' Harry said, clearly angry. ‘If this is what coming home is like after all this sodding time I'm not sure I'll bother again.'

‘Harry!' Lizzie cried, shocked by his sudden attack. He didn't often swear and she didn't like it. ‘What have I done wrong? Why are you so angry with me? Of course I'm glad you're home – it's just that I thought it would be nice to have friends round, because you haven't written for ages and I didn't think you were coming…'

For a moment his face was filled with fury and then it disappeared and he slumped down in the chair. ‘I'm sorry. It's been hell recently and I never expected to get this pass – and then you seemed as if you preferred to be with your friends…'

‘Not if I can be with you,' Lizzie said and knelt by his side. He looked tired and drained and she didn't understand – but he was obviously under strain.

‘I'm sorry, Lizzie, but it felt as if you'd forgotten me – shut me out. You're obviously coping well and don't need me…'

‘Of course I need you. I love you, Harry. You've given me everything. If you and Uncle Bertie hadn't helped me, I should probably have been working in the munitions factory now.'

‘Sebastian Winters would take you like a shot.'

‘I turned him down. I'm your wife, Harry.'

‘I love you, Lizzie. You won't run away and leave me will you?'

‘Where would I go?' She laughed up at him. ‘You know I love you, darling. I expect you're tired and hungry, aren't you?'

‘Not particularly hungry… Why don't we go out somewhere?'

‘There's a good film on at the Odeon…'

‘No, I feel like company. A pub somewhere: one that has a piano. I want to see people enjoying themselves and having a few drinks.'

Lizzie hesitated, because she didn't like pubs much and some of them in the district seemed to get rowdy.

‘You wouldn't rather just stay in and have a few drinks – or visit your uncle?'

‘No, I want to go to a pub,' Harry said. ‘Get changed into something smart, Lizzie. I want everyone to see what a pretty wife I've got…'

*

Lizzie was annoyed as the drunken soldier brushed past her as she made her way back from the cloakroom, because the soldier had managed to spill a few drops of his beer on her best red dress. She noticed that Harry had invited a man in RAF uniform to sit down at their table and, as she approached, another RAF officer arrived with a loaded tray and placed it on the table. Harry was laughing, clearly more at ease with his friends than her, and she had a feeling he'd arranged this even before he'd told her of his intention to visit a pub.

The two officers stood up as she came up to them.

‘Robbie and Jeff,' Harry said, nodding at the two men. ‘This is my Lizzie – I told you, she designs hats…'

‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Oliver,' the officers said and offered their hands. Lizzie shook hands and sat down opposite the one called Robbie. ‘Harry said you were beautiful,' he said. ‘We all thought he was bragging, but he failed to do you justice.'

‘Watch him, Harry,' Jeff joked. ‘Robbie has all the ladies swooning when he starts sweet-talking them.'

Harry laughed and lifted his glass to his friend, seeming not to take any notice of Jeff's ribbing, but a little later when Lizzie was laughing at one of Robbie's jokes, she noticed the dark look her husband was giving her.

Feeling slightly annoyed, Lizzie carried on talking to his friends in the manner she always spoke to everyone, polite, friendly, but nothing more. If Harry didn't like the attention his friends were giving her then he shouldn't have arranged to meet them. Lizzie hadn't wanted to come. She would have preferred to stay home or go out for a quiet meal in a nice restaurant, but Harry wanted to be with his friends and it seemed that he enjoyed their company; it was Lizzie he was angry with and that was just stupid.

Harry was quiet as they walked home late that night. He'd had several drinks, more than she'd ever known him to have before, but he didn't seem merry or drunk – just quiet and sullen. When they let themselves into the flat, Lizzie went through to the kitchen to make some cocoa. Harry was sitting in the chair when she returned with two mugs, his head back and his eyes closed.

‘Are you asleep?' she asked.

Harry didn't answer. She put his mug on the table beside him and then took hers through to the bedroom. She drank it while sitting on the edge of the bed, then went to the bathroom to clean her teeth. Harry hadn't come through, so she peeped in the sitting room. He hadn't touched his cocoa and was still sitting with his eyes shut.

‘Are you coming to bed, Harry?'

No answer. Lizzie hesitated for a moment and then went and climbed into bed. If he'd fallen asleep where he was, he must be tired and she didn't want to wake him.

It must have been early morning when she felt the covers pulled back and then Harry's weight as he crawled in beside her. The next moment his arms went round her and he was nuzzling her neck, murmuring endearments as he pulled at her nightgown, inching it up with one hand. She was still sleepy, and a little cross with him for his behaviour that evening, and not in the mood for lovemaking.

‘No, Harry,' she muttered, still half asleep. ‘Tomorrow; I'm tired…'

‘You can't refuse me,' Harry muttered and then his body was lying on hers, crushing her into the mattress as he fumbled between her legs, forcing them open and pushing his fingers inside her. ‘Why aren't you wet?' he grumbled as she resisted what felt like an invasion. ‘Damn you, you don't love me anymore…'

Lizzie tried to protest but his lips ground on hers in a punishing kiss and then he was thrusting into her with such ferocity that she felt a wild beast was tearing at her and she cried out in pain. Her mind refused to believe what was happening, because Harry had always been such a caring, tender lover. He couldn't be doing this – it was little short of rape. She felt cold all over and a little sick. Harry must know how this would affect her – after what had happened when she was fourteen! How could he subject her to such rough treatment?

Lizzie tried to push him off but Harry was in the grip of some wild fit and he just pounded into her until he collapsed in a heap, groaned and then rolled off her, immediately falling into a deep sleep. He was snoring. Harry never snored; it either had to be the drink or he was feigning it.

Lizzie pushed away from him, got out of bed and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She ran a hot bath and got in, letting the tears stream down her cheeks. How could he do that to her? He wasn't like the man she loved – he wasn't her Harry. Something had happened to him and Lizzie didn't like it.

She stayed in the bath until the water felt cold and then dried herself, wrapping her bathrobe round her and going through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. There was no way she was going to get back into that bed while Harry was in it – not while he was in the grip of whatever madness had taken him over.

She drank her tea alone, refusing to take him one; he didn't deserve she should. Lizzie was very angry. Some women might put up with their husbands treating them like that but she wasn't one of them. Unable to return to bed, she finally curled up in the sitting room with her coat over her and drifted into a cramped and uneasy sleep.