We'll Meet Again (40 page)

Meg tossed the bottle into the wastepaper basket. She perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Josie, this is damned ridiculous. When we get back to Oxford the first thing you’re going to do is to tell Walter how you feel about him.’

Josie raised herself on one elbow. ‘Meg, I couldn’t.’

‘You must. Unless you want to drink yourself to death.’

‘He’s a mere boy and I’m almost forty. Everyone will say I’m cradle-snatching.’

‘Who cares? And anyway, he’s twenty-eight if he’s a day. It’s obvious that you’re both crazy about each other and he needs someone like you. You need him. So where’s the problem?’

Josie winced. ‘Please don’t shout, Meg. My head aches.’

‘I’ll stop if you promise to tell him how you feel.’

‘All right. I promise.’

Christmas was over and it was time for the family who were returning to the mainland to leave for the ferry terminal. Meg was able to lose herself in the confusion of tearful goodbyes, hugs and kisses and promises to keep in touch. She brushed her lips against her mother’s scented cheek, sensing the undercurrent of disapproval. It was quite different when her father held her in a fond embrace, and there were tears in his eyes as he begged her to come home soon.

Gerald held her for a moment and then kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Good luck,’ he said softly. ‘Write to him and tell him what happened. Give him a chance to make things right, but remember that I’ll be here for you if you ever need me.’

Meg threw her arms around his neck and gave
him a hug. ‘You’ll always be special to me. Take care of yourself and don’t let Pip tease Buster.’

Billy had already left driving the farm truck piled high with their luggage, and the family were clambering for places in the three waiting taxis. When they finally drove off in convoy, Meg craned her neck to catch one last glimpse of Gerald standing on the steps, holding Buster by the collar, waving frantically. She sat back and closed her eyes. She had secretly telephoned Walter at his home in Wiltshire. If he was not on the quay at Weymouth waiting for Josie with a huge bouquet of flowers and the courage to tell her he loved her, then she would wash her hands of them both.

The winter months gradually gave way to spring and Meg concentrated on managing the boutique, leaving Josie free to concentrate on buying stock and doing the rounds of her well-to-do friends to persuade them to part with their unwanted gowns. Business was brisk and Meg worked hard, resolutely pushing all thoughts of Rayner to the back of her mind. Although the strategy succeeded reasonably well during the busy daylight hours, it failed miserably at night. He invaded her dreams, causing her to awaken in the early hours and making further sleep impossible. She often crept downstairs to the kitchen at four in the morning to make herself a pot of tea. As the mornings grew lighter and the weather warmer she would take her tea into the garden to
watch the sunrise and listen to the warbling notes of the dawn chorus.

Josie and Walter were now officially a couple. Meg had the satisfaction, as well as the occasional stab of jealousy, of seeing them unashamedly together. Walter had given notice at his digs in January and moved in with Josie. At times Meg found their obvious happiness almost unbearable and she was glad to escape to the shop. There was only so much she could take of walking into the drawing room and finding them wrapped in a passionate embrace, or seeing them wandering hand in hand amongst the daffodils and cherry blossom in the garden.

When the finals results were posted, Walter telephoned the shop immediately telling Meg that he had graduated with honours. With the money that his father had promised him if he did well, he intended to go out straight away to buy Josie an engagement ring. When Meg returned home at lunchtime, Josie was sporting the solitaire diamond as though it were the Koh-i-noor. Walter said ruefully that he could not afford the magnifying glass needed to appreciate the stone fully.

When they were alone for a moment, Josie confided in Meg that she had hidden away all the expensive jewellery that Paul had given her during their marriage, but that Walter’s ring meant more to her than the Crown jewels. Meg hugged her and congratulated Walter as he came back into the room
with a bottle of champagne and three glasses balanced precariously on a tray. She was happy for them, but, as soon as she could without looking too obvious, she slipped away and walked back to the shop to open up for the afternoon.

She was seated behind the desk, not really thinking about anything in particular, when the doorbell jangled and she looked up with her practised smile. ‘Good afternoon.’

‘Hello. I wish to buy a dress for the evenings.’ The woman spoke with an attractive hint of a foreign accent. She was young and strikingly beautiful in a dark exotic way that would make anyone turn and stare at her. It was as if a bird of paradise had suddenly walked into the shop making everything around her seem pale and dull by comparison. Meg settled her client in one of the armchairs and went through to the stockroom to bring out an armful of dresses, hanging them on a gilded dress rack

‘You may like something here. If not, I have more I can show you.’ Meg selected a bronze satin dress and held it up so that the material caught the light. ‘Is this what you had in mind, or would you like something a bit less formal?’

‘I like that very much.’

Meg couldn’t help staring and thinking that she had never seen such large, lustrous eyes. They were so dark that the iris and the pupil seemed to merge into one.

‘I am on my honeymoon. We only stop briefly in
Oxford and then we go on to London. My husband has business there.’

‘This gown wouldn’t be out of place anywhere in London. If you would care to step into the fitting room?’

There was no need to flatter this customer. Her figure was perfect and the dress could have been made for her. Meg stood back and waited for her decision.

‘I like it very much and I think my husband will too. But I would like to try that one as well.’ She pointed to a gown in gold and rose shot silk, quite similar to the one which Meg had worn at the May Ball.

‘Yes, of course.’ Meg helped her to take off the bronze satin gown and slipped outside to hang it on the rack. When she stepped back into the cubicle it was as if the last six years had melted away and she was staring at herself in the gold creation. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile. ‘That looks lovely too, madam.’

‘The choice is difficult. You have so many beautiful things.’

‘I’m very flattered that you decided to buy here instead of in London.’

‘I was advised to come here. Rayner said there is no other place to buy gowns.’

Meg’s fingers froze into talons and her heart kicked like a mule against her ribs, momentarily robbing her of speech. Her eyes misted and she had
to struggle against a primitive desire to claw the perfect back exposed by the low-cut evening dress.

Blissfully unaware of the storm of emotion she had raised, the woman smiled. ‘I am torn. The choice is painful.’

‘They both suit you perfectly.’ Meg’s tongue seemed to have swollen to twice its size and threatened to choke her. ‘Have you come from far away?’

‘I’m Brazilian and my husband is German. But perhaps I should not say so. I don’t think you English like the Germans too much now.’ Her laugh was melodious, like the tinkling of a wind chime. She allowed the gown to slide to the floor, exposing her voluptuous curves. ‘I must take them both.’

‘And your name, madam?’

‘Luiza.’ She gave a self-conscious giggle. ‘I am not yet used to my married name. Luiza Weiss.’

Meg burst in through the front door, almost knocking Walter over in her hurry.

‘Meg, you’re home early.’

She pushed past him and headed for the stairs.

‘Wait, please. I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘I don’t want to know.’ She stormed upstairs to her bedroom, hurling herself down upon the bed and wrapping the pillow around her head. She did not cry; there were no tears left. She had lived through the most traumatic period of the war and had coped with everything that had been thrown at her, but this was the ultimate betrayal by the man she loved more than life itself. It was something she had feared but had never really thought would happen. If he had truly loved her, Rayner would have come looking for her. Nothing would have kept him away. He would not have sailed off to Brazil leaving her to face the world alone.

Luiza Weiss. The name echoed in her mind; a death knell to hope and happiness. How could any man resist Luiza with her beautiful face and perfect body, all curves like a modern-day Venus, made for
love and loving. Meg groaned out loud and stuffed the sheet into her mouth.

She must have fallen asleep, as it was growing dark and someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, calling her name. Meg opened her eyes and found herself looking into Josie’s worried face.

‘I didn’t mean to wake you, but I was worried.’

‘Go away.’

‘I will, but I’ve brought you some supper on a tray. You should try to eat something, Meg dear.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘What happened to upset you like this?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Josie was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t understand. How did you know? Walter says he didn’t get a chance to tell you.’

‘Tell me what?’ Meg turned her face towards the wall. Her head ached and there was a nasty taste in her mouth. She wanted to be alone.

‘That Rayner came to the house today.’

Meg jackknifed into a sitting position. ‘What?’

‘He asked after you. Walter told him that you were here in Oxford.’

‘He can go to hell.’

‘Meg, darling, this isn’t like you. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. ‘He’s married, Josie. His bloody wife came to the shop today to buy evening dresses. They’re on their honeymoon.’

Josie’s eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a perfect circle. She shook her head. ‘He didn’t say anything about that to Walter.’

‘He wouldn’t, would he? But it’s true, she told me so herself.’

‘But Walter said …’

‘Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it.’ Meg buried her face in the mound of bedclothes covering her knees, but she felt awful the moment Josie closed the door softly behind her. Poor Josie, it wasn’t her fault. Talk about shooting the messenger. She flung off the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt suffocated and she needed air. She went over to the window and opened it, leaning out and breathing deeply. Why did he have to bring his bride here of all places? Had he done it deliberately to wound her? A small remnant of common sense told her that Rayner could have had no idea that she was in Oxford, but she thrust it aside. Once she started to be reasonable she would begin to forgive him and make excuses for his callous behaviour. There was no excuse for what he had done, none at all. Maybe he had come asking after her in order to salve his own conscience.

She paced up and down, her bare feet moving silently across the soft contours of the Chinese carpet. She stopped for a moment to stare angrily at the evening gown hanging outside the wardrobe. Josie had persuaded her that she ought to attend the May Ball as it would do her good to go out and mingle
with young people instead of staying in night after night, listening to the wireless or with her head stuck in a novel. She had actually worked up some enthusiasm for the outing, but now everything was ruined. Rayner’s timing couldn’t have been worse, she thought bitterly, fingering the blue slipper satin. Their pledge to meet on the Folly Bridge now seemed ridiculous and farcical. Would he tell the woman he had married about her? Meg shook her head, of course he wouldn’t. She was in his past now. The truth was that Luiza was his future and the truth hurt like hell.

When Meg woke up next morning her head ached miserably and she felt ill. Instead of rising early as she normally did on a working day, she lay in bed with her eyes closed until Josie put her head round the door.

‘Are you feeling better this morning?’

‘I feel awful.’

Josie came in with a rush and sat down on the side of the bed, laying her cool hand on Meg’s forehead. ‘You don’t look well, darling, and you feel awfully hot. Maybe I should call the doctor.’

‘I’m all right. Please don’t fuss.’

Josie pursed her lips and frowned. ‘You didn’t eat your supper. Would you like some breakfast?’

‘No.’ Meg bit her lip. It wasn’t Josie’s fault. ‘Sorry, I mean no thanks. I’m not hungry.’

Josie stood up, looking at Meg with sympathetic
eyes and a furrowed brow. ‘You’ve had a shock, darling. Better stay in bed for today. I’ll manage the shop.’

‘Weren’t you going to the wholesalers in London today?’

‘That can wait. It’s more important that you get well.’

Meg raised herself on her elbow. Her head was thumping and she felt sick but she was not going to hide away. ‘A couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine. You go to London as you planned.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. In fact I’ve a good mind to go and see Rayner and tell him to his face that I think he’s a cheating bastard.’

‘Darling, that’s not like you.’

Rising from her bed, Meg reached for her housecoat, taking care to move slowly so that the demons with picks that were hammering at her temples were not disturbed. ‘I’m going downstairs to take something for my headache and then I’ll go to work.’

Josie followed her. ‘Take your tablets and then I’ve got a better idea. We’ll shut the shop for the day. After all, it is early closing, and I doubt if I’ll go bankrupt losing a morning’s takings.’

Meg paused on the wide oak staircase. ‘Are you sure?’

Josie nodded and suddenly, as if she couldn’t hold it back any longer, she chuckled excitedly. ‘You can
come to London with me and help choose my wedding outfit.’

‘You’re getting married?’ Meg missed a step and only saved herself from falling by clutching the banister rail.

‘It was supposed to be a secret until the day. We want to get married very quietly in the register office.’