Tilly True (28 page)

With all this going through her head, Tilly had taken little notice as they walked past Temple Bar and the cab rank on Waterloo Bridge, where the horses placidly munched oats from their nosebags while their drivers waited for a fare. As they entered the Strand, she stumbled over a crack between the paving stones and fell, twisting her ankle.

Supporting her with his arm around her waist, Barney's face was close to hers. She had not forgotten the scent of him that even the smell of charred wood and brick dust could not destroy. She could see the fine laughter lines at the corner of his eyes standing out white against his blackened skin. Her instinct was to cling to him and to feel his body pressed against hers; but that was dangerous – too dangerous to contemplate and she pulled away. Making an effort to stand on her twisted ankle she collapsed against him, yelping with pain.

‘That settles it.' Lifting her off her feet, Barney strode down the Strand.

‘Put me down. You're making a spectacle of me.'

‘Don't be daft, girl. We're already a spectacle – a couple of chimney sweeps on the rampage. What you need is a hot bath and a good night's sleep and I'm going to see you get it.'

Snuggling her head against his shoulder and still protesting, but not very hard, Tilly luxuriated in the feeling of weightlessness and the ease with which he carried her. ‘Here,' she said, alarmed, as Barney turned the corner into Savoy Court, heading for the entrance of the Savoy Hotel. ‘We can't go in here.'

‘Good evening, Roberts.' Barney nodded and smiled at the liveried doorman.

‘Good evening, sir.' Roberts's face was a study in self-control. ‘How may I help you tonight, Mr Palgrave?'

‘As you can see, Roberts, we've had a slight accident. Need a room for the night.'

Roberts nodded. ‘I see, sir. Follow me.' Holding the door open for them, he ushered them into the spacious vestibule.

Clinging to Barney and thinking that any moment they were going to be physically ejected into the street, Tilly held her breath. But Barney seemed totally unconcerned and he set her down on a sofa with instructions not to move while he went to the clerk at the desk. He returned minutes later clutching a key.

‘Can you hobble to the lift, Tilly? Or shall I carry you?'

Scrambling to her feet, wincing but determined to walk, Tilly gritted her teeth. ‘Let me lean on your arm. No need for the strongman act.' Glancing nervously about her, she was amazed to see the porters and waiters acknowledging Barney as if they knew him well. ‘How did you manage this?' she whispered.

‘I've been a guest here many times in the past and Dolph's name is good for a bit of credit. We'll worry about the rest in the morning.'

‘Here, don't think I'm a pushover.'

‘My dear, as if I would.'

In the spacious but slightly terrifying confines of the lift, Tilly closed her eyes as the hall porter pressed the buttons, the doors closed and the small room began to move upwards. Somehow she managed not to scream. Barney and the porter seemed to be used to a room that suddenly soared towards heaven, but she had left her stomach somewhere between the first and second floors.

‘This way, sir, madam.' The porter led them along a wide, luxuriously carpeted corridor with gilt-framed pictures on the walls. At any other time, Tilly would have liked to stop and study them, but it was all she could do to hobble, trying not to put too much weight on her swollen ankle. The porter unlocked a door and flicked a switch. The newfangled electric lights illuminated the opulently furnished room with a brightness that made Tilly blink and gasp with delight. She had thought Jessie's establishment was grand but it was cheap, shoddy and vulgar by comparison.

‘Can I get you anything else, sir?'

‘Not at the moment,' Barney said. ‘I'll ring when we're ready to order supper.'

‘Certainly, sir.' The porter hesitated, wiggling his gloved fingers and looking expectant.

Barney fixed him with a fierce look and the porter left the room muttering beneath his breath. Tilly sank down onto the bed, looking around, awed by the opulence of the décor. Heavy velvet curtains had been drawn across a tall window and the sheets had been turned down ready for the guests to retire to bed. There was just one bed. A big bed, soft and inviting, with a satin-covered eiderdown that felt slippery as ice but was soft to the touch, and there were pillows the size of clouds. Tilly could imagine angels reclining on them, floating away to blissful dreams. She glanced nervously at Barney.

‘Don't worry, my pet. I'll take the sofa if that's what you want.'

‘Yes, thank you.'

‘But first, we both need to get rid of the smoke and grime.' Opening a door that Tilly had thought was a cupboard, Barney disappeared inside another and smaller room. She heard the sound of running water and a cloud of scented steam billowed out of the door. Getting to her feet, Tilly limped to the door and peered inside.

‘A bathroom in a bedroom. Well, I never did. Not even Mrs Blessed had a bathroom in her bedroom. And there's a lav in here too. I thought it was going to be an awful long walk to the back yard.'

Chuckling, Barney turned off the taps, tested the water and wiped his hands on the largest, fluffiest towel that Tilly had ever seen. ‘This is the best suite of rooms that I can't afford. Enjoy your bath, my pet. I'll have one after you.'

Shyly, Tilly flashed him a smile. ‘Shall I leave the water in for you, then?'

‘I think the Savoy can provide enough hot water for a fresh bath for me, Tilly.' Touching her cheek as he went past, Barney's eyes darkened to the colour of old cognac. ‘Would you like me to help you undress?'

Outraged, Tilly pushed him towards the door. ‘No such thing. And I'm going to lock the door.'

Laughing out loud, Barney backed out of the room. ‘You are such a delightful prude, darling.'

The water came up to her chin and the cast-iron bath was almost deep enough to allow Tilly to float. She lay back, closing her eyes, luxuriating in the silken caress of the scented water; she risked turning on the hot tap with her toes and shivered with delight as the hot torrent gushed into the bath. If she told Ma and Pops about this they would think it was just another of her imaginative stories, but this was real, gloriously real; from the ornate cornice to the marble-tiled walls and floor, it was a palace fit for a queen.

‘Are you all right in there?' Barney rapped sharply on the door, rattling the handle.

‘I'm fine.'

‘Would you like me to wash your back for you?'

‘Wash your mouth out more like.' She could hear him chuckling as he moved away from the door and, for a wild moment, Tilly considered leaping out of the bath and letting him in. Splashing her face with cold water from the tap, she pulled out the plug and climbed slowly out of the tub. Reaching for a towel, Tilly paused, catching sight of her naked body in the mirror. It was a shock to see the reflection of the whole of her body unclothed, pink, wet and glistening. Tilly couldn't tell whether she was blushing or if her rosy cheeks were the result of the hot bath. Running her hand over the curve of her breasts to the flat of her stomach and down her flank, she shuddered with unexpected, sensual pleasure. What, she wondered dreamily, would it feel like if it were Barney's hand that caressed her flesh so tenderly? Wrapping the towel around her body, she was stricken with guilt for having such carnal thoughts. The water gurgled down the drain with a sucking noise and Barney banged on the door, asking her what she wanted for supper. The spell was broken and Tilly slipped on a robe that she found hanging behind the door. It was silk, embroidered with Chinese dragons and flowers, and, although it was much too big for her slight frame, she cinched it in at the waist with the belt and opened the door. The appreciative look in Barney's eyes made her cheeks burn. She might be muffled in silk from her neck to her toes, but she was sure he could see her nakedness beneath.

Barney handed her a leather folder that contained a menu. ‘I'm going for a bath. Choose whatever you fancy. Dolph's paying.' He disappeared into the bathroom and Tilly tried to study the menu but it was almost impossible to concentrate. Barney had left the door open and she could hear the water splashing into the bath, the out-of-tune sound of Barney singing as he undressed and the thud of his boots as he dropped them on the marble tiles.

‘You can come and wash my back if you want.'

Tilly did want, but she was not going to give in to the wicked woman in her head who encouraged her to venture into the bathroom, to see the rest of his splendid body, to touch his skin, feel it slide, wet and slippery, beneath her fingertips. Panicking, Tilly looked for her clothes. This was all a big mistake. It would be better to sleep in a doorway than to endure another rape of her body; although this time it would not be rape; she wanted Barney in a way that she could never have imagined possible. She remembered then that she had left her clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor. Whether it was the desire to grab her clothes and run, or the carnal lust that was consuming her flesh with fire, Tilly was beyond reasoning. Her feet took her into the bathroom as if motivated by another entity.

Rising from beneath the water, Barney shook the moisture from his eyes, ran his hands through his wet hair and smiled, holding out a bar of soap. Tilly could smell its rose scent from the doorway.

‘So you changed your mind.'

‘I want my clothes.'

‘Of course you do, but would it hurt you to wash the brick dust and soot off my back first?'

It felt as though she was wading through deep water; her heart was thudding against her ribs and the blood drumming in her ears. Tilly took the soap and began to lather Barney's back, leaning over the edge of the bath and working in slow sensuous sweeps, watching fascinated as the dirt dissolved and floated away revealing firm flesh so like a peach that she wanted to sink her teeth into his shoulder. She was so engrossed in her task that she had not noticed that her wrap had fallen open to the waist.

‘Tilly.' Barney's voice was thick with desire as he caught her by the wrist, pulling her towards him until their lips met. This was no soft, butterfly kiss; it was not the tentative kiss of an inexperienced schoolboy. This was a kiss like none other that Tilly had experienced, and as his mouth claimed hers, forcing her lips open, she found herself returning his embrace with wild enthusiasm. His hand slid beneath the silk of her wrap, his arm was about her waist; and, losing her balance, Tilly fell into the water on top of Barney. For a brief moment their heads were submerged, but their lips did not part. They were breathing as one as they came up for air, gulping, nipping lips, laughing and yet unable to stop kissing. Tilly's wrap floated away on the surface of the water and they rolled together, entwined like a pair of dolphins cavorting in the ocean. Barely releasing her lips, Barney emerged from the water, sending a great splash onto the marble tiles, and, holding Tilly in his arms, he climbed out of the bath. Snatching the remaining towels from the rail, he threw them on the floor and laid Tilly on them, kneeling over her for a moment and looking deeply into her eyes.

‘I want you, Tilly, but tell me to stop and I will.'

With her wet hair tangled around her head like a crown of seaweed, Tilly lay beneath him and she knew only one thing in that moment of primal instinct: that she wanted this man; needed him, desired him so that nothing else mattered. Opening her legs and arching her back, she felt his hardness with a feeling of awe as she guided him inside her. Nothing mattered, nothing, nothing, nothing, except the peak of ecstasy that he brought her to; fireworks went off in her brain and the sweet pain wrenched an exultant cry from deep within her.

How many times they made love in that long night at the Savoy, Tilly was never able to count. All she knew was that they slept very little, wrapped in each other's arms, waking, smiling sleepily and then making love again, slowly and sensuously. When Tilly finally opened her eyes, sunlight was streaming into the room and she could hear birds singing in the gardens just below their window. Barney was dressed and standing at the table, pouring coffee.

‘You're beautiful, Tilly,' he said, placing a dainty, flower-painted cup and saucer on the bedside cabinet. ‘I had no idea how lovely you were until last night.'

Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Tilly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets up to her chin. ‘I can't believe we did all that. Or did I dream it?'

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Barney kissed her on the tip of her nose. ‘No, this time it was all true. I should be apologising, I suppose, for taking advantage of you, but in all honesty I can't and I'd do it again, given half a chance.'

Smiling, Tilly sipped her coffee, and then, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to cry.

‘My darling.' Barney slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘What's the matter?'

Tilly wiped her eyes on the sheet and sniffed. ‘Is it true that you're being sent abroad?'

‘It is, but it won't be for ever.'

‘And you're leaving me, just like that. Even after . . .'

Stroking her cheek, Barney frowned. ‘You knew that last night, Tilly. I never made any promises.'

‘No, of course you didn't. After all, you're a toff and I'm just a . . .'

‘A lady type-writer?'

‘Don't make fun of me, Barney.'

Barney's eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘I'm not, my darling. Last night was wonderful and I do love you, Tilly.'

‘You do?' Breathing hurt, every breath was an effort. Her heart was going to explode. ‘Are you just saying that?'