Whisper on the Wind (42 page)

‘Darling! Who has a big affair these days? But are you asking;
really
asking?’

She wanted him to say it again, here on the riverbank, where copper-beech trees rustled brown and the grass beneath them grew green and lush; like he’d said it, hesitantly almost, at Micklegate Bar, only this time it was
when
, not if.

‘I’m asking, my lovely love. Marry me? Soon?’

‘I’ll marry you.’ Gently she touched his cheek, her eyes wide with wonder. ‘And as soon as we can. I do so love you, Paul. And I’ll go on loving you, always.’

‘Fifty years from now, will you?’ he teased, tweaking her nose.

‘Fifty years; a hundred years. On and on, into forever.’

‘Come back to the wood?’ he said thickly, sudden need in his eyes.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, her lips against his cheek.

And later she would lie still in his arms and he would tell her about that massive raid; about flying with a thousand bombers to Essen. He always told her, now; talked the killing out of himself.

But afterwards, that would be. When they had loved.

‘Paul said,’ Roz murmured, ‘that it was really something, on Tuesday night.’

‘The big raid on Essen, you mean? A thousand bombers – takes some imagining, doesn’t it? The ten that took off from Peddlesbury made enough noise.’

‘They all met up over the south coast, he said, then went in in waves.’

‘Bet it wasn’t very pleasant, being on the receiving end of that lot. You could almost feel sorry for them, couldn’t you?’

‘Yes, but never let Gran hear you being sorry for the Germans. Do you think we’ll win this war, Kath?’

‘Dear God, I hope so! Imagine being occupied? Trouble is, I just can’t see an end to it – not yet. There’s those Japs doing almost as they like in the Far East and as for the fighting in Russia …’

‘The early news said there’d been heavy fighting in North Africa. Seems Rommel’s trying to take Tobruk. If their lot get Tobruk it won’t look so good for us there.’ She stopped, a sudden flush on her cheeks. ‘Sorry, Kath. I should have thought about Barney being there. Do you worry about him – like I worry about Paul, I mean?’

‘I don’t want him to get wounded,’ Kath murmured. ‘Just because things are a bit awkward between us doesn’t mean that I don’t care. Oh, I don’t show my feelings like you do, Roz, but that’s the way I am.’ Of course she wanted Barney to come home safely but then, she’d always thought that he would.

‘Maybe you don’t, but it wouldn’t do for everyone to be like me, would it? Or could it be that you haven’t fallen in love yet –
really
in love. Wait till you do, and see how you feel, then.’ Roz swirled the dregs of cold tea around the bottom of her mug then upended it, frowning at the pattern of the tea-leaves. ‘Know anything about telling fortunes from teacups?’

‘No, I don’t. And don’t change the subject.’ Kath got to her feet, brushing grass from the seat of her overalls. ‘And don’t think I haven’t wondered what it’s like being crazy about a man. There’s a war on. Anything could happen to any one of us. Civilians are in the war, too. Don’t you think I haven’t wanted to be in love like you are? And how long do you think women like me are going to be able to put up with it? There’s a ring on my finger that’s supposed to make me immune to feeling; to give out a warning. Keep off! Don’t touch! She’s married! Well, I’m flesh and blood and this war could last for years and years – all my young years gone!’

‘I know, love. I know. It must be the very devil for you when I go on and on about Paul. Don’t think I want Paul to be flying for years and years. I don’t. One tour of ops – that’s lucky. Two tours – hardly ever.’ She shrugged her shoulders eloquently. ‘That’s why I’m going to ask Gran to let us get married. It’s so stupid, having to be twenty-one before you can please yourself what you can do. They conveniently forget we’re minors, though, when they want us to fire guns and fly bombers and drive tanks and get shot at.

‘Hell, but I’m sick of this war! If Paul is flying tonight I think I’ll go down to the Black Horse and get drunk!’

‘Let me know if you do.’ Kath’s mouth quirked down at the corners. ‘I just might join you. But right now there’s these arks to shift and cows to milk and –’

‘Kath – have you and Marco talked since – well –’

‘Since I made a fool of myself, you mean? No. Well – nothing personal, that is. Suppose you can’t blame him, though. I did offer it on a plate almost, then got cold feet. Maybe he thinks there’s no future in it, and maybe he’s right. Stupid of me, really, when probably all he wants is just to be friends.
Tiamo
. A friend.’

‘A
what
?’ Roz demanded, eyes wide. ‘What was that you said? The bit in Italian, I mean.’

‘Oh, just my
lezione.
I’m picking up quite a few words, now.’

‘And
ti amo
? That’s Italian for just good friends? You’re sure, Kath?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Marco said it was.’

‘Then I’ve got two bob that says he’s been having you on.’ Roz laughed, eyes bright with teasing.

‘
Roz?
’ Having her on? How? And come to that –
why
? So they’d kissed? A kiss meant nothing. They were friends, weren’t they? ‘What do you mean – two bob?’

‘Two shillings that says
ti amo
means I love you. I’m almost certain it does.’

‘But it can’t! Marco
wouldn’t
!’ She felt the heat of the flush that stained her cheeks. He’d said it to her and she, idiot that she was, had said it to him, too; had smiled into his eyes, and said it! ‘Roz, he wouldn’t …’

‘Seems he has.’

‘All right, so maybe – just maybe – you’re right. But you’d better wipe that smirk off your face because I don’t think it’s one bit funny. And when I see him, I’ll – I’ll –’

‘You’ll what, lovey?’

‘I’ll give him a good telling-off, that’s what!’ She drew in a deep, indignant breath. ‘Imagine if I’d said it – innocently, I mean – and someone heard me – someone who understood? We’d both be in big trouble.’

‘Kath! Can’t you take a joke? Think of it – it probably made his day having the best-looking landgirl for miles around tell him she loved him.’

‘A joke? You’re sure? You’re certain it doesn’t mean something well –
really
awful?’

‘Something like how about us making mad, passionate love? No, Kath – I’m almost sure it means what I said, and I’m sure he was only having a bit of fun, truly I am.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ But fun? Oh, no, he’d meant it. Looking back to the way it had been, she knew he’d meant it. ‘A joke, Roz; you’re right. But he’ll have to be told; he really will!’ The minute she saw him, he’d be told!

Kath sighed loudly, impatiently, plumping up her pillow yet again, turning over for the umpteenth time. Another sleepless night, she shouldn’t wonder – but there had been quite a few of those lately. Nights spent counting taking-off bombers; thinking about Roz and Paul; thinking about Marco and this afternoon that had given her reason for even more wide-awake nights. In the milking parlour, it had been. Not exactly the place, come to think of it, to have your entire life turned upside-down.

‘Damn!’ Roz had said. ‘I’ve forgotten to give the cats their milk! Won’t be long.’ And she had disappeared without another word, leaving the two of them alone.

‘It wasn’t very kind of you, Marco …’ She had been waiting, agitated, all afternoon for just this moment and the words came out as she had rehearsed them in her mind. ‘Saying what you did, I mean, about being my friend.’

‘
Si
, Kat? But I
am
your friend.’

‘Then you told me the wrong words for it.’ She turned to face him, eyes wary; unwilling to say those words, now that she knew their real meaning.

‘
Ti amo
? Who told you?’

‘Roz did.’ She watched the jet of water from the hosepipe collect into a pool at her feet. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘Because I wanted to say it, Kat.’ His eyes sought hers, begging for her understanding. ‘And because I wanted to hear you say it to me.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have. It could have got us both into trouble. And you know the way things are with me.’

She turned to walk away from him, but he took her arm and turned her to face him again.

‘I don’t know how things are with you. I only know how
I
feel about you, about us. What else matters?’

‘
Matters?
’ Shaking, cheeks blazing, she stuck out her left hand, jabbing with her forefinger at the ring there. ‘
That’s
what matters. Me, being married – or do you think a married woman on her own is fair game – is that it?’

‘Fair game? I don’t understand fair game. What I understand is that I love you.
Io ti amo
, Katarina,’ he said softly. ‘And I know you love me.’

‘Marco! We are
not
in love; we can’t be.’ She closed her eyes, shaking her head, unwilling to look at him. ‘We hardly know each other. It isn’t love you’re talking about; if it’s anything it’s – it’s
attraction.
It’s me being lonely and you being lonely, but it isn’t love, it mustn’t be.’

And please don’t look at me like that. Don’t want me, Marco. Please don’t want me with your eyes …

‘Why mustn’t it be? I loved you the first time I saw you, Kat. You brought soup. “Mrs Ramsden sends soup,” you say to me. I saw the ring on your finger then, and it make no difference.’

‘Then it should have!’

She stood there, fighting back tears; fighting the urge to touch him, gather him to her, lift her mouth to his. She stood unspeaking, for words must be carefully spoken when her heart contradicted her head. Love
could
happen in one small second. Roz had loved Paul right from their first meeting; from the first naked glance, even. Call it love, call it attraction, call it needing or wanting – it happened. When love happened it didn’t wait for moon and June, and soft lights and sensuous music, it was there, in the air, sometimes coming like a jabbing, flashing fork of lightning, taking no account of wedding rings or vows or if that man was your country’s enemy.

‘What’s to be done, Marco?’ She walked over to the tap and turned it off. The floor was awash, their long hessian aprons sodden at the hems. This couldn’t be love; not in a shed that smelled of cows. ‘It’s got to stop. It’s all so – so
hopeless.
’

‘Stop? You turn love off, then, like you just turned off that tap?’

‘I can try, Marco,’ she whispered. ‘I can try. And there must be no more kisses; no more saying I love you.’

‘So how can that be? You want I should leave here – no more coming to Home Farm?’

‘No! That wouldn’t be fair to you nor to Mat, either. But think; we can’t love each other. Even if the war ended tomorrow and suddenly you were free, it wouldn’t be any use. I’m married, Marco. It’s as simple as that.’

‘Married! Only you don’t love him. I know it. I see it in your eyes and I know it when you kiss me …’

‘Don’t! No more kisses, I said; no more touching, even.’ She had closed her eyes tightly against the tears that threatened; closed them because the sight of the hurt in his face sent pain stabbing through her. ‘Help me, Marco? Don’t stop being my friend, but don’t want me. Help me to try not to want you?’ she had begged him.

Try? She stared unblinking at the ceiling. She could still see it, dimly. Soon it would be the longest day, the shortest night. Winter it had been when she and Marco met and now summer blazed and with it had come a longing between them that couldn’t be denied, hopeless though it was.

Roz – I envied you; envied that dangerous loving of
yours, even though it made me afraid and glad it hadn’t – couldn’t – happen to me. But it has happened, and I don’t know what to do about it, because I’m not like you. I’m not free to love.

The tears she had fought for so long came in a flood of self-pity and she buried her face in her pillow with a low cry of dismay.

How long she wept and when finally she slept, she had no idea. She only knew that as the alarm jangled her awake the first face she saw with her mind’s eye was not Marco’s nor Barney’s but that of Aunt Min, lips set, eyes narrowly triumphant.

‘What will I do?’ she whispered out loud and Minnie Jepson’s vinegared rasping voice answered, ‘Do, Kath Allen? You do your duty to your husband, that’s what!’

Duty. A cold word; cold, almost, as charity and she’d had enough of that in her life and enough of duty, too.

All at once a blaze of defiance took her, shaking away the melancholy that wrapped her round. She threw back the bedclothes and swung her feet to the floor.

Leave my conscience alone, Aunt Min! Get out of my life, won’t you, and take your smug hypocrisy with you! And next time you write to Barney, tell him that Kath’s up to the eyes in it, will you? You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, Aunt Min
?

Up to the eyes, was she? Well, she’d see about that! Maybe soon they’d
all
see!

Snatching up spongebag and towel she hurried down to the washroom. She was in a hurry to get to Home Farm, and Roz. Roz must be the first to know. Roz would understand.

Kath was waiting, foot tapping, when Roz pushed open the dairy door. She had been eager to be out, snatching only a mug of tea, too impatient to be away to spare time for breakfast.