The Lie (23 page)

A man standing behind them said, ‘They'll take him to the treatment centre up the 'ospital, I shouldn't wonder. He weren't 'urt bad nor were the kid, thanks to 'im, so they won't keep him in long. They've got too many what need beds more than he does.'

‘Thank you.'

Emily turned away. She'd had a bit of a shock and she was feeling shaky inside now that it was all over. To see Terry in action like that, to know he might be overcome by smoke or fire had made her realize how much she liked him – and that was something she ought not to be thinking.

Emily had her breakfast early. She had decided that she would go to the hospital and ask if Terry had been brought in, but just as she was finishing her tea, her landlady came in to the dining parlour to tell her that she had a visitor. Putting down her cup, Emily went into the hall, wondering who had called. She felt a start of surprise and pleasure as she saw Terry standing there.

‘Oh, Terry, how are you?' she cried, going towards him with her hands outstretched. A great surge of relief and pleasure went through her. He had been so brave and she'd been afraid he might suffer for it. Thank God he was all right!

When Terry caught her in his arms and kissed her, she clung to him for a moment before moving away and giving him an embarrassed look. She hadn't meant that to happen!

‘Sorry, I got carried away  . . .'

‘Doesn't matter.' She smiled. ‘I was so worried about you but they wouldn't let me come with you in the ambulance, and then I felt a bit shaky. I was going up to the hospital this morning to see if you were there.'

‘I thought you might worry,' he said, and smiled at her. ‘And I was worried about you, Emily. You had inhaled smoke too. They ought to have taken you in for observation, same as the rest of us.'

‘No, it didn't matter. I was all right,' she said. ‘I think they are stretched to the limit as it is.'

‘But you could have been overcome by smoke.' He looked at her in concern, clearly upset by the thought. ‘You might have died  . . .'

‘Yes, if you hadn't been there,' she agreed. ‘I was trying to find a way of breaking that door down. Does your shoulder hurt?'

He rubbed it ruefully and admitted that it was very sore. ‘I missed my axe,' he said, ‘but I've seen cheap doors like that before and knew I could break it with my own force. And I didn't want you risking your life in there  . . .' His voice had gone a bit croaky. ‘You know I care about you, Emily.'

‘Yes, of course,' she said, very conscious that her landlady wasn't far away. ‘Wait just a minute while I get my coat. We'll go somewhere and have a coffee if you have time?'

‘I'll make time.'

Emily nodded and ran upstairs, grabbing her coat, scarf and bag, then went down to join him in the hall. It was cold out but brighter, the damp mist that had hung over the city for a while having cleared.

Terry looked at her but neither of them spoke for a few moments.

‘You were wonderful,' Emily said, after a short silence. ‘People were saying how brave you were last night after you'd gone in the ambulance.'

‘It's my job,' he said. ‘I wasn't sure I would ever be able to do it again, and what happened last night was as much for me as anyone else. I had something to prove to myself. I'm going to ask them to put me back on regular service as soon as my treatment is finished.'

‘If that's what you want, then I'm glad for you.' She understood that the incident that had killed his friend had lingered in his mind, and also that the rescue of the child had somehow helped him.

‘Let's go in here,' Terry said, choosing a quiet hotel rather than a busy café. ‘I know this place. There's a comfortable lounge where we can sit and have coffee and biscuits. We can talk there – and we do need to talk, don't we, Emily?'

She hesitated, looking into his eyes for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, we should talk, Terry.'

They went inside the old-fashioned, discreet hotel. The lounge was panelled in mellowed oak with soft carpets, comfortable if shabby armchairs and little tables, and there were only two tables occupied. Terry led her to a secluded corner, ordering their coffee from a maid in a black dress and white apron.

‘It's stuck in the Edwardian era, but it's decent,' he told Emily with a grin. ‘At least we shan't be overheard here and we don't need to shout at each other.'

‘It's comfortable and quiet,' she replied. ‘You said we should talk and I agree but – nothing has changed. We're friends, good friends – but I'm married.'

‘But you're not happy, are you?'

Emily thought about her marriage. She had gone into it hastily, mainly because Simon had been so desperate. It was true that she wasn't happy. She had been feeling uneasy about things for a while, though she hadn't acknowledged it to herself. Simon's behaviour on his last leave had aroused small doubts she'd suppressed, but sitting here with Terry she was forced to admit they were there at the back of her mind. She had a suspicion that she might have made a mistake, yet even if that were true, there was nothing she could do about it.

‘No, not really,' she admitted, after a moment or two. ‘I care about Simon, but I  . . . I'm not sure he really loves me.'

Terry nodded. ‘I knew something was wrong. I could sense it.'

‘It may just be the war,' Emily said. ‘I don't honestly know. Simon has moods. Sometimes we're good together and then  . . . Well, he hasn't written to me properly since the last time we were together. I've had a couple of brief postcards. I thought he was going to get leave before this, but he hasn't written to tell me anything.'

‘A lot of men aren't good at writing letters. It can't just be that, Emily?'

‘No, it isn't.' She shook her head over her own thoughts. ‘It sounds so stupid when you say it out loud  . . .'

‘Nothing you could say would sound stupid to me.'

‘I think  . . .' She hesitated again, then went on as he smiled at her. ‘I think Simon married me because his father wants an heir for his estate.'

Terry stared at her in silence for a moment, then nodded. ‘It's the way of people like that, to marry for the sake of a son to carry on the name. But what gave you that idea, Emily? Why do you think Simon doesn't love you?'

‘He says he does, but somehow I have started to doubt it.' She wrinkled her brow as she tried to put her thoughts clearly. She couldn't tell him the intimate details of her life – that Simon only seemed to be able to make love to her if he made a game of it, the feeling she had that he didn't really want her – that he was doing his duty as a husband. ‘I can't explain but things aren't right  . . . between us in that way  . . .' she bit her lip, her soft hair falling across her face.

‘I see  . . .' Terry looked thoughtful. ‘He must be an idiot if he doesn't know how lucky he is.'

Emily laughed. There was no doubting that Terry thought she was special and the look in his eyes made her feel much better.

‘It isn't just that, it's other things – like not bothering to write or phone. Little things I can't explain. I don't even know why I feel this way myself. Frances told me that Marcus rings her all the time, and he comes home more often. I don't understand why Simon can't, unless he doesn't want to.' She shook her head, brushing her hair back from her face. ‘Or am I being selfish? Asking too much? Perhaps it is me  . . . I've let him down  . . .'

‘I don't think so.' Terry reached for her hand and held it. ‘I don't believe it is your fault.'

‘I hadn't realized how I truly felt until this moment. Talking to you  . . .' She shook her head. ‘I shouldn't even be doing it  . . . but you are right, I am not happy.'

‘So what are you going to do about it, Emily?'

‘What can I do?' She read the answer in his eyes and withdrew her hand. ‘No, I couldn't. It would be too awful of me. I don't have any real reasons for a divorce, Terry. I shouldn't have married Simon in such a rush. I know that now. If I'd waited for a while, until we knew each other better, it might have been different.' In normal times she would probably never have married him. She admitted it to herself for the first time.

‘Why not – if he doesn't love you?'

Emily looked down at her hands. She wasn't wearing her rings. She seldom wore them these days, because she hardly felt married at all. Her relationship with Simon wasn't a normal one, and she couldn't deny that to Terry. She couldn't deny the strong attraction between them, the feeling that he might have been the one for her if she had waited and not given into Simon's persuasion. She shut the thought out at once, but it wouldn't stay shut out. Terry was brave and strong and she really liked him. Perhaps she might have found happiness if she'd married him – only she hadn't and she was stuck with the consequences.

‘I'm married, Terry. People I know don't get divorced very often. I would have to have a very good reason to ask Simon to let me go.'

‘You know I love you. I think you love me.'

‘I think I could,' Emily said, not wanting to admit that she was already halfway there, ‘but that isn't a reason to break my marriage vows. You know it isn't. You can't just walk off and leave someone because you decide you're not satisfied.'

‘So you're going to carry on knowing that you don't love him and he doesn't love you? One of these times you'll fall for a child and then you will be really trapped. Wake up, Emily. You should make the break now while you can!'

She stared at him helplessly as he leaned towards her, kissing her softly on the lips just as their waitress returned with the tray of coffee. The woman didn't turn a hair as she deposited the tray, turned, and left them to serve themselves.

‘I have to think about it,' Emily said, tears hovering. ‘I'm not sure. It might just be me being selfish.'

‘I don't think you could ever be that. Listen to me, Emily. It isn't just for my sake that I'm telling you to face the facts,' Terry said. ‘I want to marry you, but I'm not asking you to leave him and marry me just like that. I think you will be very unhappy one day if you don't, that's all.'

‘Yes, I think you may be right,' she agreed. ‘I wish I'd listened to Daniel. He told me to wait  . . . and yet he went and did the same thing himself just before he was posted. He and Alice were married by special licence just as we were.'

‘Perhaps it was right for them. It often is. If you are in love it's natural to want to be together.'

‘I thought I loved Simon. When I'm with him  . . .' Emily sighed. ‘Don't push me on this, Terry. I can't just walk away like that. I have to see Simon again, talk to him.'

Terry nodded, and picked up the coffee pot, poured them each a cup. She watched his hands imagining them on her body, touching her. She wasn't wrong about Simon feeling it his duty to make love to her. He had never once looked at her in the hot, hungry way Terry did! She felt the regret wash over her – regret for what might have been.

‘I will talk to Simon,' she said, ‘but I'm making no promises.'

‘I haven't asked for any.'

‘No,' she said. ‘You haven't  . . .'

After she'd left Terry, Emily went window shopping in town, then bought herself a much-needed pair of shoes for work. She'd been saving her coupons for them but as she caught the bus that would take her back to her lodgings, the pleasure of the purchase was marred by the conversation with Terry. Was she right to blame Simon for her dissatisfaction with their marriage – or was she making something out of nothing? Perhaps it was her who was wrong? Perhaps it was because she was attracted to Terry?

Emily didn't like that thought. It gave her a nasty taste in the mouth and made her feel worthless. What sort of person would have these kinds of thoughts when her brave husband was fighting for his country?

She didn't like herself much at that moment. She had wanted Terry to kiss her again, and she'd wanted to tell him that she would leave Simon to be with him. Her conscience had prevented her from saying it, but that didn't stop her thinking.

She went upstairs and changed into her working clothes. It was better at work; she didn't have time to think – and although she'd told Terry she needed time to think, it was the last thing she wanted to do. When she came down, her landlady was answering the telephone.

‘Ah, here she is – just a moment,' she said, and held it out to Emily. ‘It's for you  . . .'

‘Thank you.' Emily took it, her brows raised, but the woman shook her head and walked back into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Emily Searles – I mean Emily Vane speaking.'

‘Emily, my dear,' the voice said, and it was Amelia's. From the concern and huskiness of it Emily knew at once that something was wrong and her throat caught. ‘I am so very sorry to tell you but Simon has been hurt.'

Emily could hardly speak for a moment. ‘Is he  . . .?' She broke off, unable to ask the question.

‘No, not dead,' Amelia said, and there was a sob in her voice. ‘His plane was brought down in the Channel. He's alive but –' she choked as though it was impossible to go on – ‘they say he has received some nasty burns to his left side  . . . face and body.'

For a moment the world seemed to whirl madly around Emily. She thought she was going to faint, but made a grab for the nearest object, which happened to be the hallstand, holding on until the dizziness passed.

‘Yes, I see,' she managed at last. ‘Where is he?'

‘He's at St Michael's, just a few miles from us. His father had him transferred from the military hospital, because he will get more attention here. Vane is bringing a specialist in to examine him and then we shall see.'