Monday Girl (38 page)

‘Oh, God, I hope not.’ She felt sick, then suddenly she remembered something. ‘I’d a letter from Tim this morning, and he said that they’re being shifted, too. You must be right, Glynn, something’s definitely going to happen.’

‘That’s it, then.’ Glynn sounded almost glad as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘We’ve been lucky having almost a year together, you know. Hundreds of men had to leave their wives shortly after they were married.’

‘I know,’ she said, ‘but it’s not much comfort.’

That night, they lay talking for a long time, assuring each other of their love and trust, and voicing their hopes for the future – a not-too-distant future. They had made love before they began to talk, they made love again when they ran out of things to say, but Renee’s mind kept strictly separate from her body. Sexual satisfaction did not quell her fears for his safety.

Mr Murchie was very understanding on Wednesday morning, when Renee told him that Glynn was to be moved away from Aberdeen, and let her have the rest of the week off to be with her husband. They spent the time exploring the city, and Renee was dismayed to find that she knew less about the history of her own home town than she did of Edinburgh, but Glynn was very impressed by the sparkling, granite grandeur of Marischal College, and the ancient splendour of King’s College and St Machar’s Cathedral.

Their nights were usually fully occupied, too, and Renee knew that her husband was trying to give her something to remember when he was far away from her. She would certainly never forget these wonderful, precious hours.

Monday was their last night together, and Glynn made sure that it was the best yet. Their rapturous unions were repeated until they were both exhausted and fell asleep locked in each other’s arms. In the morning, she clung to him, unwilling to let him go, until he forcibly removed her arms. ‘You’ll be late for work,’ he murmured. ‘I promise I’ll write every day, darling.’

‘So will I,’ she vowed.

‘I love you, my darling.’

‘I love you, dearest Glynn.’ One last, lingering kiss, then she dragged herself away, but her eyes were full of tears as she walked towards the bus stop.

Renee had accepted the parting by the time she went home at lunchtime, Anne was pleased to notice, having worried that she would be disconsolate at Glynn’s departure. ‘It won’t be long before he’s back on leave,’ she said, brightly.

‘I know, Mum, but I’m going to miss him, and if he’s sent abroad, it might be long enough before he gets home.’

‘Lots of other girls are feeling exactly the same.’

‘That doesn’t help me, or make me feel any better,’ the girl said, bitterly.

Next day, Renee came home to find her mother sitting in the armchair, red-eyed, and twisting a damp handkerchief in her hands. The girl was alarmed and went straight across to her. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

Anne pointed to a letter lying on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s from Pat Schaper,’ she said shakily. ‘Read it.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Renee said, after she had read the first few lines. ‘I’m very, very sorry.’

Fred Schaper had been shot dead in Libya. His captain sent on his personal belongings, and his daughter had written ‘. . . and there was a letter from you in his wallet. He was happy in Aberdeen, and was most disappointed that you wouldn’t marry him. He told me, before he was sent overseas, that he wished the war were over, so he could go back to you. I’m very sorry, Mrs Gordon. I know you’ll be just as upset as we are by my father’s death.’

Renee raised her eyes sadly, as she laid the letter down. ‘I don’t know what to say to you, Mum. It’s really terrible, and I know how you must be feeling.’

A sob caught in Anne’s throat. ‘I wish now I
had
married him when he asked me. We’d only have had a short time together before he was sent away, but . . . Now I’ve nothing to remember, and nothing to look forward to.’

‘Mum.’ The girl’s arms went round her mother. ‘You’ve got the memories of all the happy times you spent together, and Fred understood why you wouldn’t marry him then.’

‘We’d have had happier times if we’d been man and wife. Oh, Renee, he was a good, good man.’

‘I know that, and he loved you. Always remember that.’ Renee offered to run to the telephone box to ring her office and tell them she wouldn’t be back in the afternoon, but Anne wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’ll be all right, honestly. I’ve done my weeping – all forenoon. It’s crazy. I refused to marry Fred in case he was killed, and now that it’s happened, I wish I’d said yes.’

‘It’s only natural, Mum.’ Renee hadn’t the heart to remind her that she’d been warned at the time that she would feel like this if anything happened. ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you, I’ll have to think about getting back. I’ll just make a quick cup of tea before I go.’

‘Oh, Renee.’ Anne looked at her regretfully. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t make any dinner for you, and you must be starving.’

‘No, it’s all right. I couldn’t eat anything, anyway. A cup of tea’s all I want.’ When she left the house, about ten minutes later, Renee said, ‘Don’t brood, Mum. You can’t change things, you know.’

When Glynn’s letter arrived, a few days later, it gave little information. One sheet of paper was all he had written.

My Darling,

We’re somewhere in England, I can’t say more than that. We came here in a huge convoy and it was a very tiring journey. I miss you every minute, and I’m aching to hold you in my arms again. I can’t write much, because they keep us very busy.

All my love, dear wife,

Glynn

It was Renee’s first love letter from him. She read and reread it a dozen times that day, and felt ashamed of being so happy when her mother was still mourning for Fred Schaper.

For just over three weeks, Renee and Glynn kept their promises to write every day, then his letters began to miss a day. He apologised, and kept repeating how busy he was, so she forgave him and carried on writing each evening.

She took her mother out at least once a week, having had great difficulty, at first, in convincing Anne that she must face the world occasionally, and the outing relieved the boring monotony of their flat lives. It gave them something, other than Brown and Company and the problems of food rationing, to talk about.

Glynn’s letters were now coming once a week, and his wife followed his lead and wrote every Sunday night. He still wrote of his undying love, as she did to him, but the magic seemed to have gone out of the correspondence.

When Tim and Moira were married, Anne and Renee went home feeling more downhearted than ever. The bride had looked so wonderfully happy when she came out of John Knox Church – where Mike and Babs had also been married – and the groom so proud, that they both realised, more deeply than ever, how empty their existence was.

A welcome diversion for the two lonely women came with a visit from Jack Thomson, the day after Tim’s wedding. He had them laughing in no time with his stories, and they blessed him for his timely appearance.

‘Have you heard from Glynn lately?’ he asked Renee.

‘Yes, he writes every week,’ she said, cheerfully now. She had also kept writing to Jack at irregular intervals, the usual friendly letters.

‘How about you, Mrs Gordon? Are you still hearing from . . . Fred, wasn’t it?’

Renee rushed in, to save her mother. ‘Fred Schaper was killed, Jack.’ She wished that she had told him about it when she was writing, but she’d thought it was best not to.

‘Oh, I’m very sorry.’ Jack’s head went down, and there was an awkward silence.

Anne was first to break it. ‘You’ll be staying for tea, of course, Jack?’

‘Thanks. If it’s all right with you?’

‘Of course it’s all right. I hadn’t really thought about what we were going to have, but I can rustle up something.’ She ‘rustled up’ an omelette, using dried eggs, and while they were eating it, Jack asked, ‘How’s Tim? Are you still hearing from him?’ He grinned mischievously when they told him that Tim and Moira had been married the previous day. ‘Poor Tim. Caught at last.’

‘They looked very happy,’ Anne remarked.

‘I’m sure they did.’ He was serious now. ‘Tim’s another lucky man. Moira’ll make him a good wife.’

‘What about you, Jack?’ Anne smiled kindly. ‘Is there no sign of you being hit by Cupid’s little arrow?’

He shrugged. ‘Cupid’s given up on me, I think.’

Renee felt his eyes on her, and her heart skipped a beat. It felt good to think that a man was in love with her, a man other than her husband . . . It was time Glynn was back, she thought, hastily. It shouldn’t be long now. He’d been posted just after Jack was here the last time, so he must be due home soon.

When he was leaving, Jack said, quietly, ‘This is the last time I’ll see you for a while. It’s strictly hush-hush, but there’s troops training all over the south of England, and it’s rumoured all leave’s to be stopped.’

‘Oh, no,’ Renee said anxiously. ‘I hope Glynn gets home before that.’

‘I hope so, too, for your sake.’ Jack looked at her quickly.

‘It looks like the big push this time – invasion, I think, but mum’s the word.’

‘Renee,’ Anne said, ‘you haven’t been out all day and it’s quite a nice evening. Why don’t you walk along to the bus with Jack and have a breath of fresh air?’

‘Good idea.’ Renee went to get her jacket.

Jack’s face had lit up. ‘Cheerio then, Mrs Gordon.’

‘Good luck, Jack. We’ll be hearing from you, but look after yourself.’

Renee walked along the pavement beside the young man, feeling rather ill at ease at being alone like this with Jack after such a long time.

‘We’ve walked this road together quite a few times before,’

he remarked, making her more uncomfortable than ever.

‘Yes,’ she managed to laugh.

‘B.G.,’ he said, with a wry smile.

‘B.G.?’ She was genuinely puzzled.

‘Before Glynn.’ He turned to her, and she could see for herself what her husband had meant about Jack’s love for her showing in his eyes.

‘There’s the bus coming,’ she said quickly, as they turned the corner. ‘You’ll have to run.’

‘I’ll get the next one.’ He took her arm and piloted her, in the opposite direction from the bus stop, to a small lane where they were out of sight of the main road. ‘Why did you marry him, Renee?’

She felt cornered, with her back against a wall and Jack standing in front of her expecting a straight answer. ‘I fell in love with him,’ she said quietly.

‘Why didn’t you wait for me? You knew I loved you, didn’t you?’ He looked at her steadily. ‘I’ve always loved you, ever since I came to lodge with your mother and you were only a kid.’

She knew she should try to move, try to break this up, but there was still some sort of tender feeling in her heart for this man. ‘You never told me you loved me, Jack,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Not in so many words.’

‘I thought you loved Fergus Cooper,’ he said sadly. ‘You
did
love him, couldn’t see past him, for all that he made a fool of you.’

‘I know, and Tim and you both warned me, and my granny, but I couldn’t help myself. I was being used and I didn’t know, or maybe I just wouldn’t admit it. But I did get him out of my system, the last time he was here. We’d an almighty row and I told him how much I hated him.’

‘Did you now?’ His voice was slightly sarcastic though he was smiling. ‘And what did he say to that? Knowing Fergus, he wouldn’t have taken that lying down.’

Renee hesitated. ‘I may as well tell you everything. It doesn’t make any difference now.’

She started at the very beginning of her association with Fergus Cooper, and poured it all out, faltering only when she came to their first intercourse. She made no attempt to excuse herself for anything that had happened, and Jack let her carry on, his face impassive. When she came to a halt, after describing the final, horrible meeting, she looked at him pitifully. ‘I suppose you’re shocked to learn I wasn’t the sweet, innocent girl you thought?’

He shook his head. ‘I knew what was going on, Renee. He told me about his other girls, boasting about them, and he even boasted about . . . your mother and you.’

‘Oh, no.’ She felt sick suddenly. ‘He told you about Mum and me, too?’

‘He knew what I felt about you, and he told me to keep off. He was an out-and-out rotter, and I tried to warn you.’ She hung her head. ‘I couldn’t see past him at that time, but I’d begun to realise I felt something for you before I finished with him. I even told him that night, that he couldn’t hold a candle to you, that you were decent and caring! Everything that he wasn’t.’

‘Thank you for those kind words.’ His smile was crooked.

‘I was in love with you, Jack, when we were going out together, but you didn’t say anything to me before you were called up.’

‘I wanted to, Renee. God, I wanted to, but I couldn’t believe you were over Fergus.’

‘Jack,’ she said softly, knowing that what she was about to say was foolish, and could lead to complications, ‘if you’d asked me to marry you at that time, I’d have said yes.’

With a quick intake of breath, he placed his arm on the wall behind her and leaned over her. ‘What a bloody fool I was. To think you could have been mine all this time. How many years? Three, at least, nearly four.’

‘I suppose it must be.’ Her knees were buckling under her, and she thought he must hear the banging of her heart against her ribcage.

He let his hand slide down the wall on to her shoulder.

‘I’m not going to ask you to be disloyal to your husband, Renee. I had my chance and let it slip through my fingers, but I don’t think he’d mind if you let me kiss you, for one last time?’

The girl pushed aside all thought of how much Glynn
would
mind if he knew about it, and held her face up for Jack’s long, tender, smouldering kiss, which, unexpectedly, opened the floodgates of their pent-up emotions.

‘Renee, my darling, darling, Renee,’ he whispered. ‘God! I wish I could turn back the clock.’

‘So do I,’ she murmured, forgetting, for the minute, her marriage vows and her husband, or perhaps deliberately not wanting to remember them.