Once a Land Girl (28 page)

‘There’s a gentleman if ever there was one,’ said Philip.

Prue was about to agree when Stella, in her heart-wrenching voice, began to sing ‘They Can’t Black Out The Moon’. It was the song – as Prue knew, but Philip did not
– that she had sung on the night in the pub when Joe had fallen in love with her.

P
rue could not sleep. Her restless limbs seemed to be filled with shards – shards of wonder, she supposed them to be. She thought back to
when she had met Barry One. The sensations were similar, but not exactly the same. Whatever this was, it was stronger. She had a feeling it might be something to do with conviction: Rudolph Vincent
Basie Junior might be the right man at last.

Was there any way she could be sure? All they had done was dance for three hours, scarcely speaking. But it had seemed to Prue that the quality of their closeness was extraordinary. She now knew
what people meant when they said they had met someone, very briefly, whom they felt they had known all their life. Words were unnecessary: communication was through magic waves. All the same,
thought Prue, it would be nice to talk to Rudolph soon. But when? No plans had been made beyond a promise of a game of chess with Philip. She tossed about in the narrow bed, horribly awake, goaded
by speculation.

At five o’clock it was almost light. From James’s narrow bed Prue could now clearly distinguish the toys on the high shelf on the opposite wall. There were several wooden trains, a
windmill, a whole menagerie of stuffed animals. A monkey with a leering smile looked down on her, scoffing at her foolish thoughts. She shut her eyes, longing for it to be time to get up.

Prue was already in the kitchen when Stella and Philip appeared, apologizing for their lateness.

‘We’re not used to such giddy hours,’ said Philip, ‘and we had your young pilot on the telephone at eight, ringing before he went on duty. Plan is, he’s coming
round for tea.’

The agonized worries of Prue’s night fell away. The wonder remained.

After lunch she went for a walk along the marsh path: anything to hurry the hours till tea. A strong breeze bent the reeds and made a rush-hour of clouds in the sky: normally they would have
filled her with delight, but they scarcely registered. In her mind she was still dancing, Rudolph’s huge warm hand on her waist.

When she arrived back at the bungalow an official military car stood in the driveway. Rudolph was at the kitchen table absorbed in a game of chess with Philip. He barely glanced up when she came
in. ‘Hi, Prudence,’ he said. ‘I got off an hour early.’

‘Hi.’ Prue, never normally afflicted by shyness, felt a sudden longing to be invisible. She realized that Rudolph would not notice if she disappeared to check her appearance and
choose a brighter bow, so she slipped off to her bedroom. Her hand shook so hard as she put on her mascara that she made a sooty mess of her cheeks and had to start again several times. When she
returned half an hour later the game was still in progress. Stella was turning out scones from a tin. She smiled at Prue and asked her to find the strawberry jam. In a daze that rendered her
completely inefficient, Prue began opening cupboards and searching among the jars with unseeing eyes.

Stella laughed. ‘You,’ she said quietly.

The game went on all through tea and continued as the light began to fade. When eventually it came to an end Philip, a touch reluctantly, observed that Rudolph was a skilled player. ‘And
an interesting challenge,’ he added.

‘Haven’t had so much fun for a long time,’ said Rudolph. Neither Prue nor Stella knew who had won. They didn’t understand chess, and neither enquired. ‘Hope we can
do it again.’

‘Come over as often as you like, any time,’ said Philip.

‘Why don’t you stay for supper?’ Stella was at the stove, throwing bay leaves into a stew. ‘I mean, it’s almost time . . .’

‘Why, a great pleasure that would be, ma’am.’ Rudolph stood up and directed one of his minor bows in Stella’s direction. Then, at last, he looked at Prue. ‘Should
you and I take a breath of fresh air, walk a while? I don’t know this part of the coast. You could show me the beach.’ He gave her one of his astonishing white smiles.

‘Love to,’ said Prue, in a minuscule voice. ‘Is that OK, Stella?’

‘Of course. Go on.’

‘I’ll help when I get back.’ Looking at Rudolph, magnificent in his uniform, Prue felt herself stumble as she moved to the door.

They walked down the marsh road to the beach, then turned up onto the dunes. By now the sky was the thundery purple that comes in early spring before complete dark. The moon was a small curve,
pith white.

‘Cripes,’ said Prue at last. She had thought of no words to break the silence between them on the road. ‘Looks like we’ve got lucky. Moon, no rain, no wind, sound of the
sea. Wow.’

Rudolph laughed. He took her a hand and pulled her up through the marram grass. At the top of the dunes they found a shallow nest of soft sand, still just warm from the day’s sun, and sat
down. Behind them the marsh was a stretch of muddy dykes: the reeds bowed towards a gathering of distant dormant sailing boats that awaited the incoming tide. Ahead, the beach was deserted. Light
from the moon was a pale imprint on the sea.

Rudolph pointed to an angular structure that rose above the water some way out. ‘Looks like a wreck,’ he said.

‘It is a wreck. Stella told me it was used for target practice in the war.’

‘Right.’ Rudolph’s interest in the wreck was quickly spent. He put an arm round Prue’s shoulders. She was shivering. He kissed her.

If kisses were yards of fabric, she told Stella later, it would have been velvet. She had never been kissed so velvetly. Then he had pulled back, though his arm remained round her shoulders.
‘I’m not a man for hurrying things in the normal way,’ he said, after a pause into which Prue fitted a dozen guesses as to what he was going to say, ‘but I get the feeling
time’s against us. I’ve a few day’s leave. Perhaps we could get together a little. Go places. How would that be?’

Prue was enchanted by his accent, the softness of his voice, the way he made each word linger. She asked where he came from in the States.

‘Savannah, Georgia. Few miles north. My folks have a farm there. That is, my dad. My mom died last year.’ He shifted his position, stroked Prue’s neck with a finger. ‘You
know something? There’s an eighteen-mile avenue of azaleas leads into Savannah. What I wouldn’t do to show you that when they’re all out. Dazzle the eyes, they do.’

Prue giggled. She had never seen an azalea so was not able to imagine the avenue. She wanted to return to kissing. ‘It’s good you’ve got some leave,’ she said.
‘Let’s do things, yes. I’m here for as long as I like.’

‘Sure will.’ Rudolph kissed her again, less velvetly, rougher. Then once more he pulled back, surprising Prue. She had thought he felt as if he wanted to carry on for ever, as she
did. ‘Pity the stars are missing tonight,’ he said. ‘I think we should wait for stars.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Prue was feeling cold. She shivered again. ‘Are stars that important?’

‘They are to me. They remind me I’m no more than a grain of sand and won’t be here long.’ He gave Prue a hand. ‘I think we should be getting back, help your friend
Stella with the supper.’ Prue considered saying that Stella had no need of any help, but decided against it. She was aware of a slight dip in her expectations: a jab of impatience. Why wait?
If time was against them, if they were the grains of sand he liked to imagine, soon to be swept away by some tide – Prue felt pleased she could carry on thinking in his funny way – then
all the more reason to waste not a moment.

On the way back she put her arm through Rudolph’s. He began to describe his English teacher at high school, a man who was determined that his pupils should acquire rich vocabularies.
‘So each vacation he would give us a list of words, some unusual, which we had to learn and try to use when appropriate. When I left school I often got ribbed for my use of words, but I
didn’t care. I was glad of them.’ He laughed. ‘One of the first ones I learnt came back to me tonight: “deliquescent”.’

‘What on earth does that mean?’ In truth Prue didn’t care. She wasn’t under the moon for an English lesson. But when Rudolph stopped and bent to kiss her again, she
forgave him.

‘It means turning to liquid, melting. It’s how you can sometimes feel. How someone can make you feel. I felt you were melting in the dunes. I know I was. You could say we were both
kinda melting . . .’ He removed her arm from his, took her hand, laughed a little. ‘I think maybe we still are. And you know what? Though perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this, when I
looked across that hall last night and I saw you . . . well, my heart stopped. Every cliché hit me right here in the solar plexus. I just didn’t know what to do, how to play
it.’

‘You did all right,’ said Prue. Her spirits had risen again. They found themselves walking more slowly, not wanting to arrive.

‘You’re the most ravishing creature I ever . . . God knows what you could do to a man.’

Rudolph had spoken so quietly that Prue could hardly hear him. They reached the back door of the bungalow. She giggled. ‘Well I don’t ever seem to get it right,’ she said.
‘There’ve been disasters, disappointments, dashed hopes, all that sort of thing. Doesn’t seem easy just to find a good man, love him and be loved back. But I shan’t give up
trying.’

They kissed once more, then pulled apart, slow and reluctant as tangled netting. Prue knew that Stella would understand, from one glance at her burning cheeks, the nature of the walk to the
beach. She didn’t care. She had her man now, didn’t she? If she played her cards right, maybe he would ask her to go back to America with him. They could drive along the azalea avenue,
if that was what Rudolph wanted, though for her that would not be a top priority. Rudolph went to his car to fetch a bottle of wine.

At supper Stella broke the news that James was returning tomorrow. He’d had enough of his Cromer grandparents and wanted to come home.

‘That doesn’t mean you have to go, of course,’ said Stella to Prue, ‘so long as you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa. James is a bit small for that.’

‘Of course not. The sofa’s fine. I’m so glad he’s coming back. I’m longing to see him.’ She looked at Rudolph.

‘I think maybe I have a solution,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘I’ve a few days’ leave and I’d like to take Prue to . . . I don’t know. We could explore a
bit. Find some small hotels, grilled fish, take a boat out to the seals . . .’ His voice petered out, uncertain. There was a long silence.

Then Stella said, not looking at Prue, ‘I think that’s a lovely idea.’

‘Same here,’ said Philip, firmly, ‘so long as you promise me a return match, Rudolph, when you come back.’

‘Sure,’ said Rudolph. ‘I look forward to that.’

Prue slept deeply that night. She dreamt she and Rudolph were dancing on a deserted beach. They had an audience of seals who were balancing on their tails, applauding with their flippers.

The next morning Stella drove to fetch James, a three-year-old so identical to Joe that Prue only just stopped herself from remarking on this. He seemed pleased to be home. He rushed to sit on
Philip’s knee, produced a paper bag of shells to show him.

‘His father’s son,’ observed Philip. ‘When I was a child I was forever collecting shells and forcing them upon my parents.’ Prue dared not look at Stella.

They played with James for only a short while before Rudolph arrived. Although off duty, he was still in his olive-drab uniform, which in Prue’s opinion added to his handsomeness. They set
off in the Sunbeam, having decided it would be more fun than the official car that Rudolph was allowed to use. Along the coast road they drove, then turned inland. A sort of mutual impatience was
upon them: they could not be bothered to consult the map. Every now and then Rudolph would put his hand on Prue’s thigh and smile one of his half-smiles. She looked down at her twitching feet
in their red shoes with ankle straps and shiny buckles. Driving in the Sunbeam with Johnny had not felt like this . . .

Rudolph extended his leave from four days to six. Exploring Norfolk was not their chief priority, although they travelled along most of the coast, and paused in villages to
look at small, cold churches set in graveyards where sheep grazed and mourning doves chimed in nearby woods. They concentrated on places to stop. By night there were spartan chilly rooms above pubs
or small hotels. By day they chose woods, remote fields, places in the dunes to which they supposed no one would come except in high summer. Rudolph had brought rugs, tins of frankfurters and jars
of potted meats from the base. Some days he would add Californian tins of fruit salad, bright with flabby cherries. He always seemed equipped with a flask of coffee and stacks of milk-chocolate
Hershey bars, with or without nuts. In the evenings they would take an early supper in a pub, often fish and chips, and steamed puddings with Bird’s custard: Rudolph had developed a passion
for that English symbol, which the war had done nothing to destroy, though Prue assured him he would have gone even crazier over Mrs Lawrence’s homemade version.

The first time they made love was just an hour after leaving Stella and Philip. They parked on a high drift of land, where a crop of wheat was just beginning to green the earth; and found a
hidden dell screened by hawthorn. Beech, elm and ash soared above them into a loose blue sky that threatened rain. Through chinks in the bushes they could see the far-off sea, melding so closely
with the sky that only the smallest shiver of light indicated water, waves, tides.

It was cold. They lay on one of Rudolph’s rugs and pulled the other over them. As they struggled out of their clothes, they could feel the chill on their limbs as the top rug ran amok and
the sharp air assailed them. Then suddenly they were warm, hot: there was sweat on Rudolph’s temples. There was a brief shower. The raindrops that fell on them were thinly scattered, but they
cooled their new heat. They found themselves laughing, but were uncertain why. A memory came to Prue of being a child in a boat-shaped swing at a fair. She was alone, clutching the scratchy ropes
in her hands, thrust into the sky then returned, thrust and returned. With each rising she felt she had penetrated the arc of blue, seen something on its other side. She had the same feeling
now.