The Emerald Valley (44 page)

Lovely – lovely! Too lovely for words! She was weightless, fluid, a part of the whipping wind and the throbbing engine, part of the black night through which they were roaring. She wanted it to go on for ever and when she felt him easing off the speed and coasting to a stop outside Dolly's house, she longed to shout, ‘No – don't stop! Let's go further – anywhere! Just drive, please!'

He killed the engine and turned to look at her as she sat with hair tumbled, eyes streaming tears down her flushed cheeks, mouth parted with almost sensuous pleasure.

‘You enjoyed that, didn't you?' he asked.

‘Oh yes!' She sounded breathless, but for the moment the wind had blown away all traces of awkwardness. ‘I wanted it to go on for ever!'

‘Well, you're not really dressed for open-car motoring in the middle of winter. Much further and you'd probably be freezing. But if you like, I'll take you for a ride some other time.'

‘Oh, I'd love that!'

‘Make it a Sunday afternoon – or tomorrow, if it comes to that. You won't be working on Boxing Day and neither shall I.'

‘But the children …'

‘Isn't there someone who could have them for an hour?'

‘Well, yes, I suppose so …' It was so tempting – she wanted so badly to repeat the experience. ‘Yes, I'm sure I could arrange something.'

‘Good.' He smiled at her, his mouth twisting sideways. ‘Better make it about half-past two. It gets dark so early at this time of year.'

‘Yes.' She would sound ungrateful, she thought, to say she wanted it to be in the dark, just as it had been tonight. ‘Now I suppose I'd better go and see what's happening to Dolly,' she added regretfully, not wanting to leave this wonderful escapist world and come bumping back to reality.

‘Shall I wait?'

‘Oh no – we'll be all right to get back. The one way's not so bad and I haven't any idea how long we shall be.'

‘Sure?'

‘Yes, quite. You've done enough already. I don't know how to thank you, Mr Porter.'

‘I was happy to help. There's one thing you can do though and that's stop calling me “Mr Porter”. My name's Ralph. All right?'

‘Yes, all right.' She tried to say it and couldn't bring herself to. ‘And thank you again.'

Before she could hoist herself up out of the car seat the front door of Dolly's house opened and Victor was framed against the light.

‘Amy! Is that you?' he called in his loud voice.

‘Yes. Is there any news?' she called back.

‘She had the baby ten minutes ago. Another little boy.'

Another little boy. Amy went weak with relief, then joy surged up in her and she turned to Ralph laughing and grabbing his arm unself-consciously.

‘Did you hear that? A boy! Oh, that's wonderful, isn't it!'

‘Yes. I'm glad.' He freed his arm, slid it along the back of the seat to circle her shoulders and pulled her towards him. ‘Merry Christmas, Amy.'

His lips touched her forehead and it was like the prince's kiss to Sleeping Beauty, but with the effect in reverse. Her laughter died, though her lips remained parted, her joyful animation froze, even her breath seemed suspended. She sat motionless as his lips skimmed her nose and found her mouth. The pressure was cool but firm and lasted only a moment. There was no time to feel panic or desire, no time to think or react. But when he released her she felt a quick, sharp sense of loss.

She sat for a moment, stunned. He came round the car to help her out and she trembled at his hand on hers and the rock hardness of his body as she stumbled against him. But he made no attempt to kiss her again, simply steadied her and held her away.

‘I'll see you tomorrow then?'

‘Yes, tomorrow.' Amazingly her voice sounded normal. Then he was back in the car and driving off, nonchalantly waving as he went.

Amy stood in the gateway, steadying herself against the wooden post for a moment. Thank heavens Victor had gone back into the house; she needed this moment alone to compose herself. Like the blood running back into a cramped limb, she was aware suddenly that she was coming back to life … muscles, veins, nerve endings all tingling. She raised a hand to outline her mouth, remembering the feel of his lips.

All these years since I met Llew I never kissed another man, she thought. Now, in less than a week, I've been kissed twice. But how different they had been – the one slimy, presumptuous; the other undemanding, casual almost, but very pleasant – an experience she would not be averse to repeating.

The front door opened: it was Victor again.

‘Amy! Whatever are you doing? You'll catch your death hanging about out there. Come on in and see Dolly and the baby.'

There was a spring in her step as she went up the path. The world was full of surprises. And tomorrow she was going to see Ralph again …

Ralph. I called him Ralph, not Mr Porter, even if it was only to myself, she thought, and pleasure ran through her veins like warm sherry.

Amy could not go up right away because the doctor and the midwife were still in attendance, so she and Mam made a pot of tea and washed up some of the cups that were stacked in the kitchen – half-emptied cups which had sustained them through that long day.

‘Thank the Lord it's all over and our Dolly's all right,' Charlotte kept saying.

‘Another boy though! I think Victor would have liked a girl.'

Amy kept up the surface chatter, but underneath she was wondering: Should I tell Mam about Ralph – ask her to have the children tomorrow? But no, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Perhaps they could go next door for an hour and then Mam need never know; Amy had the feeling she would most definitely not approve.

After a while they heard the doctor come clattering down the stairs, exchange a few words with Victor in the hall and slam out to go back to his interrupted Christmas celebrations. Then the midwife came down; not Peggy Yelling in this part of town, of course, but a thin, nervy-looking woman who rejoiced in the name of Nurse Bird and was naturally enough nicknamed ‘Nurse Stork'.

‘Can we go up now?' Charlotte asked eagerly.

‘Nurse Stork'nodded and Amy ran ahead of her mother up the stairs. Dolly was lying back against the pillows, her face as pale as the snowy covers. Her hair was tangled, not curly but in lank wisps, as if the nurse had attempted to comb it and given up because Dolly was too tired and weak to be bothered. As Amy entered the room she forced up heavy eyelids to reveal lack-lustre blue eyes.

‘Hello, Amy. What are you doing here?' Her voice was slurred.

‘Come to see you, of course. How are you feeling?'

‘Glad it's over. What a day! And they say the first is the worst! Still, he'll be worth it. He's over there, have a look at him.'

Amy crossed the room to the crib and peeped inside. The baby lay there, a small damp scrap in a tight white binder, and her stomach contracted. Then, as she looked at him, a strange feeling of unease crept over her. She couldn't put her finger on it, except that it had to do with the look of him and as she gazed a kind of cold dread grew on her. Was there something wrong with him? Oh, surely not … !

Charlotte was beside Amy now, peering into the crib.

‘Oh, isn't he beautiful!' she exclaimed, her voice full of emotion. Amy pushed her own terrible doubts to one side. She was mistaken, she had to be.

‘He's a real Christmas baby, Dolly,' she said.

‘Yes. I think we ought to call him Noël,' Dolly said drowsily.

‘Noël! That's a nice name! Dolly …'

But Dolly's eyelids had drooped and she was asleep.

Charlotte and Amy tiptoed downstairs again. In the scullery the midwife was washing her hands at the sink.

‘Which of you two is staying the night then?' she enquired.

They looked at one another and at her.

‘Someone has to,' the nurse said briskly. ‘She can't be left; she didn't have an easy time, you know, and she needs her rest.'

‘Well, I can't,' Charlotte said. ‘I would, and willingly, but I've got Dolly's other two children at home and my husband is an invalid. Surely Victor arranged for someone to come in?'

‘Well, there's nobody here, is there? And I want to be getting home. I've been here long enough already.' Nurse Bird looked meaningfully at Amy.

‘Me?'
Amy said, horrified.

‘It looks as if you'll have to,' Charlotte said. ‘The nurse is right; Dolly can't be left and there are some things Victor can't do. She needs a woman here, Amy.'

‘But what about the children?'

‘I'll make up beds for them. They'll have a lovely time all together with Bob and Fred.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' Amy protested. ‘I didn't come prepared.'

‘I'm sure our Dolly can lend you what you need.'

‘But I'm no nurse, Mam. I'm just not made that way.'

‘Amy, don't you want to help your sister out? You've been glad enough of a bit of help yourself over the last year, I don't mind telling you. It's a bad job if you can't repay some of it …'

‘Yes, all right, I'll stay.' Amy knew when she was beaten, but that did not prevent her from worrying about her own commitments. ‘Where's Victor anyway?' she asked.

The scullery door opened as if on cue and Victor appeared. ‘Did I hear somebody mention my name?'

‘Yes. Where have you been, Victor?'

‘Down the Rank to let Annie Toogood know what's happening.'

‘There was no need to go down, was there? You could have made her hear from here,' Amy said spitefully.

Charlotte shot her a look. ‘Amy's offered to stay with Dolly tonight,' she said.

‘Oh, there's no need for that.'

‘But Victor, there
is
. Dolly mustn't put her feet to the ground on any account. And the baby will need attention, too.'

‘That's all right,' Victor stated placidly. ‘Annie Toogood will be here in a minute.'

‘Annie … oh, that's why you've been down to see her!'

‘I fixed up weeks ago for her to come in when it was Dolly's time. But seeing it's Christmas and we had a houseful with the doctor and the midwife, I thought there was no need for her to come up until it was all over.'

‘I see. Well, that's a good job, Victor,' Charlotte said and Amy felt almost guilty as relief overwhelmed her. Charlotte was right and she should have been only too pleased to help her sister. But she already had so much on her plate that she sometimes felt it would drive her crazy, and besides …

If I'd had to stay with Dolly, I would never have managed to go out with Ralph tomorrow, Amy thought. And realised again just how much she was looking forward to it.

‘Well, Victor, if you've got everything fixed up, I suppose we might as well be getting on home,' Charlotte said. ‘It'll take us a while to walk it. I'm glad I've seen the baby, and I'm glad everything has gone off all right. But what a funny Christmas it's been! All upside down!'

Amy said nothing, but as they set out for home she silently echoed her mother's sentiments. It certainly had been a peculiar Christmas. But at least there had been no time for grieving, no time for settling into sad memories of Christmases past. Instead there had been new life, new experiences, new hope. And for that she was grateful.

In the darkest corner between the washhouse and the bake-oven, Rosa Clements and Ted Hall stood close together in each other's arms.

It was not the most private place in the world – if they turned their heads they could see quite clearly the lighted windows up and down the Rank – and sounds of laughter, merry-making and the occasional swell of voices raised in singing carols as families clustered round their front-room pianos drifted to them on the cold night air. But with their own families gathered in their small terraced houses, it was the best they could do.

‘I'm glad you came home for Christmas, Ted,' Rosa whispered.

And Ted, his senses swimming from the intoxicating nearness of her, murmured his agreement. ‘I'm glad I did, too.'

The way she affected him when they were together was a constant source of amazement to him – there was an attraction so primitive that the air between them almost hummed with the strength of it and it drove all else from his mind. It had not always been that way, for as a boy he had been irritated by the skinny raven-haired urchin who had followed him everywhere. And as a young man he had been too besotted with his beloved Becky to notice her. But when his grief had begun to dull a little and he had discovered that life still had to be lived, there was Rosa – grown to a woman almost without him noticing – her eyes sloe-dark in her olive face, her body lissom, her voice soft as the wind in the trees and her spirit as free as that of the travelling fair-man who had fathered her. Ted had found himself wanting her … and not only physically. There was something about the wildness of her that called to him as like calls to like and at times he thought that if he settled down one day, it would be with Rosa.

The trouble was that he seemed quite unable to settle down. Since leaving the army at the end of the war he had become a wanderer. The life he led would not have suited most people, who seemed to strive for the very things which made him claustrophobic – one steady job to keep them going week after week until they retired exhausted, or died. But he loved the freedom and the variety, loved the feeling of being answerable to no one but himself.

Sometimes, as he swung in his window-cleaner's cage high above London or wriggled his toes in the sand on Weymouth beach, he thought of Rosa. Maybe one day I will marry her, he told himself. Maybe one day when I'm about forty and I've had my fill of freedom. But not yet … Not yet.

It was only when he was with her and the attraction between them flared strong and bright that he thought: I want her now! I can't wait that long!