Still Waters (53 page)

‘Easy; two bitters, two gingers,’ Mal said. ‘No need for anyone to help, my navigator’s been waiting ages, I’ll ask him to get them in for us, then we shan’t have too long to wait. Bye for now.’

He went off, flushed with triumph. He knew her name, he knew she was a landgirl, working in Norfolk. Knew that she and greaseball Ashley weren’t married or engaged or anything like that – if they had been, Ashley would have said, because it was plain as the nose on your face that he regarded Tess as his own property. And girls, Mal thought wisely, did not much care for that.

Reaching the bar he wondered, as he made a long arm and asked Percy, in a loud shout, to enlarge his order by a couple of bitters and two gingerbeers, just what was between those two, Ashley and Tess. More than she wanted and not as much as he did was as far as guesswork would take him. But he’d find out; already a plan for the evening was forming. Percy, old in the ways of queue jumping, simply nodded at the addition to his order and presently fought his way out of the crush once more with a lurching tray laden with booze.

‘Found yourself a bit of stuff?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘Why so many?’

‘What, drinks? Oh, because my bit of stuff has a feller in tow, so I’ve had to throw dust in their eyes.’ Mal took the tray and Percy removed one of the beers from it, and a small glass full of red liquid. ‘I take it that’s for the cute little blonde?’

Percy pulled a face. ‘Not exactly. She found someone with more stripes and a bigger wallet – well, that’s what I tell myself. I’m with another one; older and not so blonde, but you should see the tits on her – and feel them! She bounced me round the floor on ’em, I tell you no lie. Can’t wait to get her outside, later.’

‘You’re a dirty old man,’ Mal said appreciatively. ‘Are we going to share a taxi back to base or shall we quit at eleven-thirty?’

‘My God, you must be smitten if you’re considering a taxi! We’ll catch the truck or walk, and I don’t mean to walk. I’ll keep my eye on you, we’ll all go out at eleven and have a snog round the back of the Royal Hotel, then it’s a run for the liberty truck and snoring in our beds by midnight.’

‘I’m not snogging with a load of fellers,’ Mal said. ‘Oh, you mean girls, do you? Didn’t sound like it.’

Chuckling, he made his way back to their table with the drinks and handed them round. Tess took hers and their fingers touched; lightning shot along Mal’s arm and tingled its way down to his toes. He glanced uneasily at Ashley but the other man was immersed in his beer, totally unaware. Thank God lightning doesn’t show, Mal thought, then looked at Tess. Faint rose was flushing her cheeks again. I knew we must both feel it, Mal told himself triumphantly. Ah God, the greaseball’s going to dance with her again . . . heave ho, Ethel!

They left the dance hall soon after eleven and walked under the stars, arm in arm with the girls they had met, round to the Cattle Market where the liberty trucks were lined up, waiting for them. Ashley and Tess had disappeared in a smashing little sports car – Mal had felt envy, but no unease. He was sure, certain sure, that Tess and he were right for each other. They would meet again, and soon.

On the way back to the trucks Ethel hung heavily on Mal’s arm, chattering in what at times he took to be a foreign tongue, but was only her thick Norwich accent. She reversed ‘ooh’ and ‘oh’ so that soup became soap and soap, soup. She said ‘Git you a mauve on, bor’, when she meant him to speed up a bit and ‘hare’ when she meant ‘here’. She asked him where he came from and sighed with happiness when he told her Australia.

‘I’ve got an uncle there,’ she said. ‘I wonder if his voice is funny, like what yours is?’

‘Probably,’ Mal said. ‘How old are you, Ethel?’

‘Seventeen come July,’ Ethel said. ‘Why?’

‘Oh, I just wondered. I’m a lot older than you. I’m twenty-seven. I’m the oldest in my aircrew apart from Geoff, who’s already twenty-eight.’

‘It don’t matter,’ Ethel said. ‘I like older men.’ She clutched his arm tighter. ‘Will you come home wi’ me, one o’ these nights? To meet my mum, I mean, an’ hev some grub?’

‘It’s very kind of you, Ethel, but I don’t think . . .’

His voice trailed into silence. Ethel sighed deeply.

‘It’s all right, I didn’t think you would,’ she said. ‘I in’t your type really am I? You was just lonely, a long way from home? Is that it?’

‘It’s not so simple as that, but . . . yes, I was lonely. And it’s been a lovely evening, you’ve made me very happy. Honest. Only I am a lot older than you and . . .’

‘You don’t hev to explain,’ Ethel said. ‘You say I ha’ made you happy – you’re done more’n that for me, bor. You’re broke my duck.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’re broke my duck. I in’t never been axed to dance afore, though I bin goin’ to the dances time out o’ mind. And you din’t just dance one dance, you danced wi’ me
all evenin
’, you bought me drinks, you interdooced me to your friends . . .’ She sighed luxuriously. ‘Wait till the girls in Woollys hear tell of it.’

‘You’re a very lovely young girl,’ Mal said, conscious of the debt he owed this plain, plump child with the spotty face and the frizzy mop. Without her, he might never have managed to meet Tess. ‘Just you have confidence and smile at people in future, though. I tell you, Ethel, I was nearly put off because you just sat there, not smiling. And you’ve a very pretty smile, it changes your whole face.’

He wondered whether a hint about pink not being everyone’s colour might go down all right, but decided against it. She probably only had the one dance dress.

‘I will smile, Mal. And thanks.’

They had reached the Cattle Market and in the shadow of the waiting trucks people were embracing. Mal pulled Ethel into his arms and hugged her, then kissed her with gentleness and affection. She shivered in his arms, hugging him back, and when he put her away from him he saw tears shining on her short, stubby lashes.

‘Ethel? I’m sorry, didn’t you like being kissed?’

‘Oh,
yes,
I liked it all right,’ Ethel said. ‘Another first, Mal!’

‘Well, it won’t be the last, I’m sure.’ Mal gave her a squeeze, then turned and climbed into the truck. He sat down on the hard metal seat, then leaned out for one more word. ‘Don’t forget, honey – smile!’

‘I won’t forget,’ Ethel said, She waved jauntily, turning away to retrace her steps, for she lived past the Samson & Hercules in the other direction. ‘Thanks again, bor.’

‘Was
that
your date?’ Percy asked incredulously, clambering into the truck and subsiding on the seat by Mal. ‘That fat girl?’

‘Well, not entirely. And it’s only puppy fat, she’ll soon lose it when she gets a bit older. She’s not seventeen until July.’

‘Cradle snatcher,’ Geoff said smugly. ‘What d’you mean by not entirely, anyway?’

‘I was in a foursome,’ Mal explained. ‘With another chap, Ashley something or other, and another girl. Tess. I’m hoping to see her again,’ he added.

‘Does Ashley something or other know you’ve frozen on to his date?’ Percy asked. ‘Bet he doesn’t. Bet he’d break both your Aussie legs if he had an inkling.’

‘He doesn’t own her,’ Mal said. ‘Oh, by the way, how went it with the enormous tits?’

‘Grand. Apart from bloody nearly smothering in ’em . . .’

‘Wha-at? Boasting again . . . unless she was a tall girl’. . . ‘Where did you find enough dark for that sort of carry on?’. . . ‘Don’t listen to him, all he got was a smack in the kisser I dare say . . .’

The remarks came from half a dozen throats. Mal laughed and sat back on his uncomfortable seat as the truck lurched into motion and his navigator began to defend himself. When would she ring? When could they meet?

All the way home in the car, with Ashley going on about his hopes of being returned to active service quite soon, Tess sat beside him, hummed a hum every time he stopped for breath, and dreamed. She simply could not start discussing Ashley’s plans for the future, because they contained her, and she, who had puzzled for so long because she seems a little in love with Ashley and quite a lot in love with Andy, could suddenly see just what her feelings really were.

Sisterly, that was it. What she felt for dear Ash and darling Andy was simply a deep and sisterly affection, but she had not recognised it as such until this very evening, when Mal had entered her life.

Mal. Was it short for Malcolm, what was his surname, why, in God’s name, did he affect her like – oh, like a lightning strike? When he had passed her her drink and their hands had touched – dear God, the wonderful, exciting tingle that had torn through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes! He meant more to her, after a couple of hours in which they had only looked covertly at one another, exchanged the occasional smile, than either Ash or Andy, both of whom she had known for years.

She hadn’t seen him at all in the Castle Museum, though she had been aware that someone else was also in the Norfolk Room with her. But she was intent on getting in to see her old colleagues, that was all she had been thinking about, really. No, she had first noticed him staring at her when Ashley had gone to the bar for their drinks. She had seen a sturdy, dark-haired young man in Australian Air Force uniform, sitting at an adjoining table with his dark eyes fixed on her face. She had looked away, kept her eyes down, glanced across the dance floor, but she had felt his eyes on her as though he was touching her physically, sending a warmness, a glow, tingling through her body.

She hadn’t danced with him, and apart from those few tense sentences when he had come to her table before Ashley’s return, she had scarcely spoken to him. Ashley had rattled on, the Australian had answered, once or twice the fat little girl with the spots had shyly whispered a few words . . . but she, Tess, had kept her mouth shut. Afraid to open it? Afraid to give away how she felt? She didn’t know, she had simply felt that it wasn’t necessary to talk. All her energies were concentrated on thoughts of the moment, which must surely come, when they met without the restrictions caused by Ashley and little Ethel.

‘So what do you want to do tomorrow, poppet? I’ll call for you and bring you back to Blofield for lunch – mother is longing to see you again – but after that I’m at your disposal – as ever. How about a run down to the coast? We could go to Yarmouth, there’s always a bit of beach where you can walk without being blown sky-high. A different town can be fun, anyway.’

Tess dragged herself back to the present, to the car rushing through the darkness, to the wind tugging her hair, to Ashley’s voice, self-assured, amused, asking the inevitable question; what shall we do tomorrow? She had wondered, when she first accepted his invitation to spend the following day with his people, whether she might do a bit more detecting, but suddenly it no longer seemed important. If she had been with Andy it might have been different, but the truth was, all she could think about was the Australian and the slow stir of excitement in the pit of her stomach whenever their eyes met. Was this what the girls called love? If so, it was an emotion which she knew she had never experienced before. But perhaps it was just . . . well, perhaps it wasn’t love, anyway. She found she did not want to name the other emotion which the girls had talked about.

‘So what’ll we do?’ Ashley asked, an edge of impatience in his voice. ‘I wanted you to come back tonight, to stay over, but you wouldn’t, so I’ve got to traipse out to Barton . . .’

‘I’m milking in the morning,’ Tess said. ‘It wasn’t
wouldn’t,
Ashley, it was
couldn’t
.’

‘You mean if you weren’t milking you’d have come?’

There was a short silence whilst Tess struggled with her conscience. Finally, she giggled. ‘Oh damn you, Ash, I probably wouldn’t have stayed over, because it would make you think . . . it would lead you to expect . . .’

‘I am
not
an idiot, Tess,’ Ashley said. ‘But I begin to suspect that you are. Spending the weekend with my people wouldn’t mean anything, except that it would be easier for me to take you out if I didn’t have to use precious petrol driving all the way to Barton and back. Besides, you adore me, you know you do. When the war’s over . . .’

Tess sighed at this blatant self-deception. Whenever he could, Ashley tried to use their long friendship as a sign of her undying love for him – why, this very evening he had tried to discourage Mal from talking to her!
Some bloody Aussie is trying to pinch my girl . . . Piss off, you, the lady’s not for rough colonials to play with.
If that wasn’t laying claim she didn’t know what was. He seemed impervious to snubs, what was more. Telling him she didn’t want to marry anyone whenever he proposed got her a deep, unbelieving sigh. Well, he would do well not to believe her next time she said it, Tess realised, because now she did want to marry someone. She wanted to marry the Australian bomber pilot, Mal whatever his name was. At least, she wanted to be with him, and what better way of being with someone was there than marrying?

Still, Ashley did have one big advantage. If he hadn’t taken her to the Samson she would probably not have met Mal. Her heart nose-dived into her dancing shoes at the mere thought. She turned and smiled forgivingly at Ashley, but he was singing a nursery rhyme song about Old King Cole, only somehow the words had got twisted to fit the Air Force and were no longer concerned with the king’s pipe, bowl or fiddlers three.

Tess sighed. Men! They were all little boys at heart, really – probably Mal was just as bad in his own way. Probably if Mal were in the car he would join in the chorus of the rude song Ashley was now belting out at the top of his voice.

Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was he,

He called for his kites in the middle of the night,

And he called for his pilots three.

Every pilot was a very fine type and a very fine type was he,

‘I don’t give a f . . . damn,’ said the pilot, merry merry men are we,

For there’s none so rare as can compare with the boys of old Waddy!

‘You’re extremely rude and vulgar, and don’t think I didn’t hear what you nearly said instead of “damn”,’ Tess said severely, just as Ashley screeched to a halt before Willow Tree Farm. ‘Don’t call for me too early; when I’ve done the damned cows and had my brekker I’ll have to change out of my overalls.’