Guarded Passions (15 page)

Sometimes, as she listened to Nesta and Sheila gossiping about the break-ups, and the husbands who were unfaithful, she marvelled at her own good fortune. A husband with whom she was still in love, and who wanted only her, two happy, healthy children, a comfortable home and no money problems. It seemed almost too good to be true.

Even though Helen knew that sooner or later Adam would go overseas, when he was posted to Cyprus in 1955 she felt her world had been torn apart.

‘It's not just the separation, it's the danger you'll be in.' She sobbed as she clung to him on their last night together.

‘Come on, I know how to look after myself,' he reassured her. ‘I'm just as likely to have an accident here in England as over there. The way some of these young crows aim when we're out on the shooting range, it's a wonder I haven't been maimed long before this.'

‘It's not the same,' she protested tearfully.

‘Look what happened to one of the Guardsmen on sentry duty outside Buckingham Palace last year,' Adam went on, ‘he was bitten by one of the Queen's corgis and had to be treated for a septic leg wound.'

‘But at least he stayed here in England,' she argued. ‘His family could see him and be with him. Ruth and Mark are going to miss you as well as me.'

‘Only if you let them. You've got to be strong, Helen. We've had a fairly settled life here at Pirbright. We've been luckier than most of the others.'

‘As Depot Training Sergeant you had to stay in England.'

‘Exactly! A cushy number by other people's standards.'

‘How long will this posting last?'

‘I don't know yet. There's trouble out there, otherwise I would have been able to take you and the children with me. Perhaps in two or three months time …' his voice trailed off as her mouth sought his, seeking their own special kind of solace in the few hours they had left.

‘I feel as if I'm being deserted,' Helen sighed as she refilled Nesta's coffee cup. ‘First Sheila and now you. I almost wish I could persuade Adam to do the same as Taffy and leave the Army.'

‘My Elwyn's a lot older than Adam. He was a regular soldier when the war started so he's done his twenty-one years,' Nesta pointed out. ‘And that's long enough for anyone to serve,' she added forcefully.

‘And he's already fixed up with a job. That was lucky!'

‘I only hope it works out,' Nesta said anxiously. ‘He's putting his gratuity into a garage along with his youngest brother. It means jobs for our two boys as well.'

‘A real family business!'

Nesta made a face. ‘Sounds grand, but I don't know how they'll all get on working together. My Elwyn's more used to giving orders than taking them and it's his brother who knows about cars, not him. At least we're not all living together, so I suppose that's something.'

‘I hope you'll be happy. I wonder if we'll ever meet up again?'

‘Of course we will, cariad!' Nesta's Welsh accent became stronger with emotion. ‘You'll come to visit us … promise now! We've been friends for nearly twelve years; we can't just lose touch with each other. Good friends are hard to find, you know.'

‘You and Sheila were the first people I really got to know when we arrived in married quarters,' Helen said reflectively. ‘I wonder where she is now?'

‘Still living with her mother the last time I heard,' Nesta said, shaking her head sadly. ‘It was sad about her and Jock breaking up like that.'

‘Yes, but I can understand it. He
was
cheating on her.'

‘I know, but I think she should have turned a blind eye to his antics; most wives do, don't they?'

‘Oh, come on, Nesta. He was even getting other sergeants to cover up for him by saying he was on duty, when in fact he was out on the town with other women. What wife is going to stand for that?' Helen said sharply. It was a situation she had never had to deal with herself and she just couldn't understand how other wives found themselves in such a predicament. If Adam had deceived her with someone else then, much as she loved him, she would not have tolerated such behaviour.

‘Plenty do. We talked about it often enough. I don't think you ever believed half the stories we told you, though.'

‘It's the children I feel so sorry for when families break up,' Helen said gloomily.

‘True, but Sheila's are both teenagers now and will soon be old enough to stand on their own feet. Army kids are pretty resilient … they have to be. All the moving around, new places, different faces, strange schools … they grow up faster than most children and they're used to not having their dad around.'

‘I suppose you're right.'

‘You've been lucky, Helen. Adam's only had a couple of short spells overseas; the rest of the time he's been here at Pirbright.'

‘True, though I sometimes think Adam gets bored being Training Sergeant – but it's suited me not having to keep moving.'

‘Adam gets plenty of variety. He gets a better life than you,' Nesta assured her. ‘He's away for three or four months each year on exercises and he gets the occasional trip to Cyprus or Rhodesia.'

‘Up until now I've been perfectly happy, but I feel restless now you're going. Most of the wives who've moved here recently seem to be a different generation. All they think about is parties and dances. After you've gone I think I'll become a recluse and no one will ever come inside my house,' Helen said with a tight little laugh.

‘Except the mosquitoes!' Nesta smiled.

‘I don't think even I could manage to keep them out,' Helen agreed. ‘They're always around. I've even been bitten by the damn things in winter. I think Pirbright must be a breeding ground for them.'

‘Which just goes to prove how unutterably boring it can be here … you even notice things like mosquitoes!'

‘So you'll be glad to get away?'

‘No! I'm being bitchy because I know I'm going to miss this place something terrible,' Nesta admitted. ‘Sunday lunch in the Mess, especially on Mothering Sunday when we are all given flowers, the Summer Ball, Down Sunday at Epsom each year, the theatre trips and Christmas parties! They have been part of my life for so long that without them there will be nothing to look forward to.'

‘But you always used to grumble about having to go because we always met the same people!' Helen ex-claimed in amazement.

‘That was part of the fun. Remember when the kiddies were small, and we were hard up, how we used to swap clothes – even ball gowns!'

‘Yes, and then change the trimmings on them so that no one would recognise them … or so we hoped!'

‘We had some great times.' Nesta sighed. ‘There was always plenty of good food and drink …'

‘Come to the next Troop Ball as our guests,' Helen interrupted eagerly. ‘It would be something for all of us to look forward to. Promise?'

Helen found she wasn't the only one to feel unsettled after Nesta and her family had left. Ruth was lost without Delia. They had grown up together and since Patsy Wilson had moved away they had become inseparable. For several weeks Ruth made no attempt to mix with any of the other girls, but just wandered around on her own or spent her evenings shut away in her bedroom playing records. She became so moody that Helen breathed a sigh of relief when she started joining in again and going to the youth club.

But not for long. Gradually, Helen noticed a change in Ruth's entire attitude. Her school reports were poor and several times Helen caught her smoking. When she asked Adam to give Ruth a talking-to, he seemed to think she was taking it all too seriously.

‘Stop being so protective,' he warned, looking up from his newspaper. ‘She's only experimenting. If you try to stop her or punish her for doing these things she will either do them all the more or something far worse. Be patient; it's just a phase she's going through.'

‘She's setting Mark a bad example.'

‘Rubbish. At his age all he's interested in is football and cricket. Oh, and going to gym. I understand he's one of the best they have.'

‘Who told you that?' Helen asked in surprise. ‘Michael Blake never said Mark showed any special ability.'

‘Well, he wouldn't would he? It's just a job to him. It was his wife, Margery, who mentioned it. She stood in for him when he sprained his ankle a few weeks back. She used to teach athletics in a girls' school …'

‘And she made a point of telling you that Mark was good?'

‘Well, you know what it's like when you take on something for the first time; you're full of enthusiasm.'

‘And where did you see her?'

‘She'd dropped into the Mess bar for Happy Hour.'

‘With Michael?'

‘No, she was just having a drink on her own. Michael was resting his foot. We had a long chat … she's quite a remarkable woman.'

‘I'm sure.' Abruptly Helen put down her knitting and went into the kitchen. She stood for a long time staring into space, willing herself to be calm.

I'm reading far more into this than I should, she kept telling herself over and over again. Why shouldn't Adam have a conversation with Margery Blake if she was in the Mess? They were talking about Mark, nothing more. If Adam knew she was standing in for her husband then it was only natural that he should ask about Mark's progress. He was very proud of him.

As she put the kettle on, she tried to remember if Adam had been on duty the last time Mark had gone to gym. He worked such erratic hours that she always assumed that if he wasn't at home then he was working. She never thought of him being in the Mess drinking, not unless he was off duty and said that was where he was going.

There was probably a perfectly logical explanation, and all she had to do was walk back into the other room and ask him. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she thought how Sheila had been misled. When it had all come out into the open, Jock hadn't even been in camp half the time he claimed he was on duty, but up in London with other women.

Helen knew she was being ridiculous, torturing herself with such thoughts. She had no reason to doubt Adam for one minute. He had always been an exemplary husband. Their love for each other had, if anything, deepened over the years.

Unable to put Margery Blake out of her mind she went upstairs and took a long, critical look at herself in the wardrobe mirror. She might not have Margery's corn-coloured hair, or her lithe, muscular body, but she was wearing pretty well for thirty-six. She was still slim and trim and there wasn't a trace of grey in her dark hair. She studied her face for signs of any lines around her eyes or mouth and even managed to smile at her reflection because there were none.

Her ego boosted, she went downstairs. Instead of making coffee she hunted out half a bottle of sherry and carried it back into the sitting-room, together with two glasses.

‘Have I forgotten something … a birthday … an anniversary?' Adam frowned as he took the glass from her.

‘No! Can't we have a drink together without it being a special occasion?'

‘We can, but it's out of character,' Adam said drily. ‘There must be a reason. You must be trying to soften me up for some purpose or the other.'

‘No,' Helen told him quietly, as she touched her glass against his, ‘just a drink to us … we're the last of the old-timers. Only two more years and you'll have done your twenty-one years. Time to start planning what comes next.'

‘You've become disenchanted with life here, haven't you?' Adam said quietly.

‘Yes, I think I have, in a way.'

‘Anything to do with Taffy and Nesta leaving?'

‘It began when Jock and Sheila split up.'

Adam's hand reached out and took hers, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘Two years will pass quickly enough.'

‘I know. But what then? Where will we go … we've no home and I don't suppose we'll be able to manage on just your pension.'

‘Is that what's worrying you?' he asked, his voice full of concern.

‘Amongst other things,' she said evasively.

‘Come over here,' he patted the settee beside him.

His arm went around her, holding her close to his broad, solid chest, and her anxiety dispelled. As she looked up into his strong, square face, and saw the mixture of love and concern in his intense blue gaze, she felt almost ashamed of harbouring doubts about him.

She buried her fingers in his shock of dark hair, pulling his head down until their mouths met. The firmness of his lips, the sharp rasp of his chin against her cheek, the warmth of his breath, stirred her senses as much as they had always done. She could tell she still excited him, even before he grabbed her hand, guiding it down his body to prove what she was doing to him.

‘I knew you had some devilish scheme in mind when you poured me that glass of sherry,' he murmured.

With a small sigh of contentment she relaxed against him, revelling in the heat from his muscular body, which she could feel even through his shirt. With trembling fingers she began to undo the buttons, running her finger tips over his chest.

‘Two can play at that game,' he breathed, as his hand slid up underneath her sweater and deftly unfastened her bra. In a quick, decisive moment he freed her breasts and bent his head towards them. She shuddered as the delicious sensation of his tongue teasing her nipples erect sent waves of urgency rippling through her.

Without releasing his hold he gently lowered himself on to the sheepskin rug in front of the fire, taking her with him. Memories of their first-ever encounter, in the barn at Fordswater when she was just eighteen, came rushing back into her mind. And, just as she had then, she abandoned herself to his passion, rejoicing in his power over her, wanting only to please him.