Spoils of War (23 page)

‘And she’s agreed to marry you. So, who’s more important? Your girl who loves you enough to give up everything to be with you, or mine who has to be coaxed and cajoled into spending an evening with me?’

‘Are you saying you won’t cover for me for a measly couple of hours?’

‘Yes.’

‘You bastard!’

‘Calling me names won’t help change my mind. If you want more time off, talk to Alfredo. Got to get back to the restaurant. See you.’

Muttering under his breath Tony followed him down the stairs. He walked back through the kitchen into the café. The cook was still at the till, his newspaper rolled under his arm, watching Judy clean a table. As she leaned over, her short black skirt rode up, showing a strip of coarse, unbleached cotton stocking top and a lot of white thigh.

‘Judy,’ Tony nodded curtly. ‘I’m surprised you want to work here.’

‘I prefer the hours, Mr Ronconi. They’re more what I was used to in the pub.’ She gave him a smile that made his blood run cold. Most girls would have gone out of their way to avoid him after what had happened between them on the night of his homecoming. He knew she wanted something from him.

The question was, what?

Chapter Twelve

‘
I have
never
eaten a meal like that in my life.’ Liza slumped back in her chair in the basement kitchen of the restaurant and beamed at Angelo.

‘Neither have I. When brother-in-law number two goes black marketing he goes the whole hog – or should it be cow? I think I had steak once, years ago, but it was stewing steak and it didn’t taste anything like that.’

‘I feel so guilty.’ Liza looked down at her plate, scraped clean of the half-a-pound of steak, chips and tinned peas Angelo had served up such a short time before. ‘That was probably double the meat ration for a family of eight for a week.’

‘Another shandy?’ Angelo held up the beer bottle.

‘Only if you put in twice as much lemonade as you did last time.’

‘There’s no chance of you getting squiffy after what you’ve eaten.’

‘I still have to walk up the hill.’

‘I’ve got the Trojan.’

‘Great, no walking. I think I must have done about twenty miles round the wards last night. All the night sister could say was
“Trainee Clark get me this, Trainee Clark get me that.”
I don’t think she knows any of the other girls’ names.’

‘She picks on you?’ He gazed into her eyes as he topped up the lemonade in her glass.

‘No more than one or two of the others, to be fair, and that’s going to overflow in a minute.’

Still staring at her, he stopped pouring and handed her the glass. ‘You thought any more about what I said?’

‘I haven’t changed my mind about marrying you as soon as you can get the banns called, if that’s what you mean.’

‘One more evening like last time we met and I might not stop in time for you to wear a white wedding dress.’

‘So?’

‘Liza, I love you. I want you to be my wife, not fancy woman.’

‘I’m not pretty enough to be anyone’s fancy woman.’

‘Fishing for compliments.’

‘I’d settle for a kiss.’ Leaning across the table, she touched her lips to his. ‘Shall we move up to the sofa on the landing outside the function room?’

‘I’m weak enough to say yes, although Alfredo was complaining the other day that the springs are about to give way.’

‘That’s you, not me.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘We’d better clear up first.’

‘Dump your plate alongside the frying pan in the sink. The boy who washes the dishes will see to them in the morning.’

‘But it’s full of water. Everything will get horribly cold and greasy.’

‘Exactly, so no one will be able to see what we ate.’ Dropping their cutlery into the basin he pushed her plate sideways into the water besides his. ‘I’ll take the beer and glasses.’ He led the way to the foot of the stairs and switched off the kitchen light. A faint glow shone down from the bulb they’d left burning in the upper stairwell.

‘Seduction lighting,’ she murmured, kissing him again.

‘Where do you get your words from?’

‘The other trainees. Most of them were in the ATS.’

‘Seems to me you’re training alongside some pretty loose women.’

She laughed softly. ‘And it seems to me you’re horribly old-fashioned.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Race you upstairs.’

‘Too many cakes and not enough exercise,’ she teased as he reached the sofa a full minute after her.

‘Unlike you, I had my hands full.’ He pushed the glasses, beer and lemonade into the corner, where there was no danger of either of them kicking them over, before falling on to the sofa beside her. Staring unashamedly into his eyes, she unfastened the buttons on her cardigan, then began on her blouse.

‘Liza,’ he protested thickly, ‘I told you what this does to me.’

‘Promise you won’t be angry.’

‘About what.’

She opened her fingers.

He looked down at the palm of her hand and frowned. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

‘The girls call them French letters, although some of them say American might be a more apt description.’

‘How in hell did you get hold of it?’

‘One of the girls is going out with a doctor, he gave her a pile to keep for when he comes round to visit. She knows we’ve been courting a while and thought we might like some.’

‘Some!’

She opened her handbag and handed him half a dozen.

‘Liza, no decent girl should even know what these are for.’

‘You think decent girls should get pregnant before they’re married?’

‘I think decent girls shouldn’t sleep with men before they get married.’

‘Even men they’ve been going out with for a year who want to marry them?’

He swallowed hard, ‘I don’t want …’

‘To make love to me?’

‘You to talk this way.’

‘You’d rather we stripped off and made love without talking about it?’

‘I want it to be special between us.’

‘It
is
special. Have you ever made love to a woman?’

‘You can’t expect me to answer that.’

‘You want to marry me, but you won’t talk about lovemaking.’

‘Is this your way of telling me that you’ve made love to another man?’ he demanded hotly.

‘And if it is?’

‘I heard about you and an American – Maurice somebody or other – Colonel Ford’s driver.’

‘Maurice Duval. He was killed not long after D-Day, months before I met you.’

‘And you slept with him?’

‘Would it make any difference to you if I had? Would it?’ she repeated when he remained silent.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well it shouldn’t. I’d feel the same way and I’d be the same person if I’d slept with a hundred other men before I met you and you still haven’t answered me. Have you ever made love with another girl?’

‘One,’ he admitted, flustered by her directness.

‘Here in Pontypridd?’

‘Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It happened on a farm in Germany Glan Richards and I worked on when we were POWs. She’d been drafted into the Land Army.’

‘You loved her?’

‘Liza …’

‘Did you love her?’ she repeated forcefully, driven by a sudden and unexpected jealousy.

‘No. Glan thought she looked like a right tart so we both tried our luck.’

‘And you were successful?’ His silence told her what she wanted to know. ‘So, you lost your virginity in a really “special” way,’ she derided scathingly.

‘I’m a man,’ he retorted defensively.

‘Don’t you dare spout that rubbish to me about it “being different for men”.’

‘Well, it is, isn’t it?’

She moved as far away from him as the sofa would allow. ‘Why?’

‘We
are
different. We have different needs – more drive – we can’t control ourselves as well as women. Women don’t … I mean they … decent girls that is …’

‘Don’t like sex, and have to stay pure to please the worldly-wise experienced man who sweeps her off her feet,’ she finished for him, realising that he was too disconcerted by her blunt approach to say another word. ‘What have you been reading, Angelo,
Snow White
or
Cinderella?’

‘You have a way of making me feel a fool.’

‘I’m glad, because you’re behaving like one. For your information, most girls are just as curious about boys as boys are about girls. And most mothers talk to their daughters about sex.’

‘Did yours?’

‘Before she died, yes. And I talk to Auntie Bethan about it, and we both talk to my sisters. In fact women discuss it all the time. You should have heard some of the things your sister Tina said to Auntie Bethan and Mrs Raschenko about how much she was missing William in bed, when he was away fighting.’

‘Trust Tina – and I don’t want to hear the details,’ he added quickly before she could start. He reached for his beer glass. ‘I never thought I’d be talking to any girl like this.’

‘You’d prefer kisses and fumbles in the dark. Or a quick roll in the hay with a
“right tart”
?’ Her smile diffused his embarrassment – and anger.

‘It wasn’t good,’ he admitted. ‘And afterwards it was downright humiliating. A couple of the other men caught us before we were dressed. She didn’t seem to mind that much.’

‘But you did?’

‘And you and this American. It was “special”?’ he asked, avoiding her question.

‘You and your “special”. No it wasn’t,’ she conceded, ‘because he wouldn’t let it be. I wanted him to make love to me. I even undressed – completely – but all he would do was hold me. Like you, he wanted to wait until we were married. So he died a virgin.’

‘You loved him?’

‘Very much.’

‘As much as you love me?’

‘In a different way, because you’re you, and he was him.’

‘And if he’d come back?’

‘How can you expect me to answer that? He didn’t and you’re here and I do love you. Very much. Enough to hand you these,’ she pressed the entire bundle of French letters into his hands, ‘to undress completely in front of you and make love for the very first time. Not “let you” make love to me, but make love right back, the way my mother told me it should be between a man and a woman.’

‘And marriage?’

‘One step at a time.’

‘But you will marry me?’

‘When I’m ready, after I’m qualified, and if we both feel the same way we do now.’ He opened his mouth but she laid her finger across his lips. ‘All my life I’ve been told men are only after one thing. It’s women who are supposed to want security. You’re turning everything upside down.’

‘Only because I love you.’

He watched as she removed her cardigan. ‘You’re going to catch cold.’

‘Not with you to keep me warm.’

‘We’ll be even warmer if we use our overcoats as blankets.’ Suddenly embarrassed, he ran down to the coat rack on the ground floor. When he returned she was completely naked. He stood for a moment, thinking he had never seen anything more beautiful – but it was only a moment. Even as he carried his overcoat over to her she kneeled on the cushions and pulled off his jacket and pullover before starting on the buttons on his shirt. They kissed, breaking apart so he could slip his vest over his head.

Finally, when their clothes lay in a single heap and they were exploring one another’s bodies with their lips and fingers, he realised that it had only been fear of a repeat of the disaster with the Land Army girl that had led him to want to delay this moment. No ceremony could have made it any more than it already was. Liza was right: they loved one another – nothing else was needed to make it absolutely perfect.

‘Mr Tony.’

Tony turned to see the cook standing in the kitchen doorway. ‘We’ve scrubbed the ovens, hobs, tables and sink for the morning and put the rubbish out.’

‘You want a medal for doing your job?’

‘Just an idea of what time we can go.’

‘When the café closes.’

‘You expect us to work an eighteen-hour shift?’

‘So, what hours do you usually work?’

‘Mr Angelo stops all kitchen food orders after half-past five.’

‘And if someone wants a meal after that.’

‘They have sandwiches, or toast, food that can be prepared at the counter unless it’s quiet enough for the waitress to go into the kitchen and heat up some beans. All the customers know that.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I thought Mr Angelo would have mentioned it.’

‘Well he didn’t,’ Tony retorted brusquely, knowing full well he couldn’t blame Angelo. His younger brother had tried to discuss his taking over the running of the café but he had brushed aside all advice by sternly reminding him that he had managed the place before the war.

‘You’ll have to pay us double time for the last two hours.’

Too exhausted to argue, Tony nodded agreement as the cook and boy exchanged their whites for overcoats and caps. He locked the outside kitchen door after they’d left and returned to the café where Judy was ringing up their only customer’s payment.

‘Waitresses don’t work the till.’

‘I couldn’t find you,
Mr
Ronconi, and the gentleman wanted to go. Thank you, sir.’ She pocketed the twopence the man handed her as she held open the door for him to leave.

‘Next time, call.’ Tony looked around. The place was deserted, unusual even for the quiet hour which was too late for shoppers and too early for evening revellers.

‘I’ve washed down the tables and chairs and swept the floor in the back ready for the evening trade. Is there anything else that you want me to do, Mr Ronconi?’ She adopted a false air of meek subservience as she picked up the brush and bowl of soapy water she’d used on the furniture and carried them through to the kitchen.

‘Yes, you can make us both a cup of coffee, take them to the family table,’ he indicated the one directly behind the door, ‘and tell me why you volunteered to work here.’

‘Very good, Mr Ronconi.’

He watched her every move as she prepared the coffee, and much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t fault her methods. She levelled the measuring spoon off with a knife to get exactly the right quantity as she mixed the milk powder with water. She polished the cups with a clean tea towel before filling them with coffee essence. She heated the milk mix in the steamer for the correct time and even remembered to wipe the rod with the steamer cloth afterwards.

‘So, why are you here?’ he asked as she served him his coffee and laid hers in front of the chair opposite his.

‘Because Mr Angelo said I was free to negotiate my wages with you,’ she answered pertly, waiting to be invited to sit down.

‘I’m sure he told you no such thing. All our waitresses get standard rate.’

‘One pound ten shillings for six shifts – in my case two in the afternoon until gone midnight six days a week with one twenty-minute main meal and two ten-minute tea breaks. Food and drink provided but no choice offered.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Last pay packet I had from munitions was seven pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence.’

‘Then you must be sorry the war’s over.’

‘Not that sorry, because you’re going to make up my pay.’

‘I’ll make it up as far as one pound ten shillings.’

‘Can’t keep a dog on that.’

‘Then look elsewhere for something better.’

‘If I did that I might have to tell people about the night you came home.’ She narrowed her eyes, reminding him of a cat. A hungry, predatory alley cat.