Guarded Passions (6 page)

‘I've missed you, Helen,' he said softly. ‘Did you think I was never coming back?'

‘I knew you would … when you could,' she breathed, dazed with happiness, the anguished waiting forgotten.

‘Let's sit here for a few minutes,' he said, drawing her down onto the soft, warm grass. ‘I've some good news.'

She waited expectantly, conscious of his nearness and the pounding of her own heart. It was a moment she would remember all her life, she thought – the utter tranquillity, the bird-song and gentle buzzing of insects all around them, the heady smell of meadow-sweet and warm grass.

‘Remember I was put on light duties? Well,' he paused as if savouring the pleasure of telling her, ‘my light duties are to come to Bulpitts with the duty-driver each morning and check out the papers of all the new intakes. That shouldn't take long, should it?' He grinned. ‘Then, I have to hang around for the afternoon duty-driver to take me back to Mere.'

‘Every day?' she asked, wide-eyed.

‘Until my check-up in two weeks' time.'

‘And then?' she asked apprehensively.

He shrugged. ‘Who knows. The war may be over by then! We'll worry about that when the time comes. I may manage to hang on to this cushy little number for a bit longer. Just think, it means we'll be able to see each other every day. Are you pleased?'

‘Very!' She smiled, her grey eyes softening. ‘I can hardly believe it.' She frowned. ‘I only hope I can escape from Mum each day!'

‘You don't think she'll approve?'

‘It's not that, but I am supposed to be helping out here. Still,' she smiled confidently, ‘I expect I can make her understand.'

‘I'm quite sure you'll try,' Adam grinned, hugging her closer.

‘It's almost too good to be true,' she said softly, her eyes misting with happiness as she looked up into his face. ‘Do your duties start today?'

‘No, not until tomorrow.' He frowned. ‘I have to be on parade at midday. I sneaked off just to come and tell you the good news.' He checked his wrist-watch. ‘I must go or I shall miss the truck.'

‘Until tomorrow, then,' she murmured, raising her lips expectantly.

As his mouth came down over hers she closed her eyes, concentrating all her senses into savouring the moment when his warm, firm lips made contact with hers.

The long, lingering kiss was breathtaking in its intensity. Helen wanted to stay there in his arms in the warm, sweet dell, close her eyes, and drift into rapturous daydreams.

Much too soon, Adam released her, scrambling to his feet, straightening his uniform and brushing it free of grass.

‘Come on.' He held out his good hand, pulling her to her feet. ‘I'm going to miss that truck unless we hurry.'

The occasions when Adam could get away from his work at Bulpitts became the focal point of Helen's days. At first, Mrs Price was concerned, not so much by the fact that Helen was shirking work, but because she was becoming much too friendly with just one soldier. She would have felt happier if Helen had showed no particular favouritism.

When she got to know Adam better, however, Mrs Price's fears seemed to be allayed. At least, she voiced no further objections on the frequent occasions when, bright-eyed, her cheeks flushed with excitement, Helen came to tell her she'd be ‘missing' for an hour or so.

On the days when Adam's work was minimal, and they had several hours to spend in each other's company, they explored the surrounding countryside. Helen had managed to borrow a bike for him and they pedalled for miles along unsignposted roads and down winding, country lanes.

In her eagerness to share things with Adam, she took him to all her favourite haunts, places she'd known since childhood. They spent idyllic afternoons at Stourton Gardens, scrambling over the mossy boulders of Rock Arch, or struggling through brambles and overgrown bushes to the Grotto. Even though the place was neglected – since the gardeners had all been called up – it still bore traces of grandeur as intended by Capability Brown when he had first designed it.

Arms around each other, they leant on the parapet of the stone bridge, staring out across the placid waters of the lake, where vivid blue-green dragonflies skimmed over the surface, mesmerised by the reflection of flowers, trees and bushes in its mirror-like surface.

And, later, after a drink at the Spread Eagle pub, they would wander through the nearby churchyard, where proud peacocks strutted amongst the graves, or into the surrounding woods where pigeons cooed mournfully.

Their love for each other deepened daily. Often they would walk for miles, fingers linked, without exchanging a single word. It was almost as if they could communicate through the pores of their skin and the air they breathed. Occasionally, for no reason at all, except their need of even closer contact, they would pause, turn towards each other and kiss.

So great was her happiness that Helen would have liked things to go on in the same way for ever. She had never felt so content, so enveloped in an aura of love. Each day her passion seemed to heighten, a huge radiant ball inside her mind, bathing the world around her in a golden haze.

The morning Adam reported, not for duty, but to see the Medical Officer, Helen felt tense and nervous as she helped on the wards. She wanted his arm to be better but she feared that as soon as he was fit for normal duties they would see much less of each other. He might even be posted, or sent overseas.

She was hanging about in the corridor outside the MO's office when Adam came out, flexing his fingers and stretching and bending his arm.

‘Better?'

‘One hundred per cent!' He grinned.

‘Does that mean you'll be back on regular duties?' she asked anxiously.

‘More than likely.' His face clouded, ‘I'll know tomorrow. I've got the rest of today free though, so can you get away?'

She nodded eagerly. ‘I've already told my mother I'd be taking the rest of the day off,' she said, untying her overall as she spoke.

‘I bet you've even planned where we're going,' he joked, his blue eyes creasing with laughter.

‘Fordswater. It's a lovely spot and within walking distance. There's a stream there, so we can paddle!'

‘Sounds great!'

‘I've even packed a picnic!' She smiled triumphantly.

‘Then let's go.'

It was one of the hottest days of the summer. But by the time they'd eaten the sandwiches and apples Helen had packed, the sky had darkened, as mountainous black clouds, which had been hovering on the horizon, began to gather overhead.

‘Come on, we'd better make a run for it,' Adam said, as dull rumblings of thunder filled the air.

They were only halfway across the field when the storm broke. Torrential rain soaked them, moulding Helen's thin, cotton dress to her body.

‘There's a barn at the far end of this field,' she panted. ‘We can shelter there until the worst is over.'

The barn was dark, but dry – redolent of the new-mown hay stored there.

‘You'd better take off that wet dress,' Adam suggested, ‘otherwise you'll end up with pneumonia.'

‘You're soaked as well!' She laughed, pushing strands of dripping hair out of her eyes.

‘Yes, that's true. And this uniform smells rank when it starts to dry out,' he added as he peeled off his battledress top and shook it vigorously before spreading it out to dry. ‘Look,' he went on, as he undid the buttons on his shirt and began to remove it, ‘take your dress off and slip this on while it dries out.'

‘What are you going to wear?'

‘I won't hurt without a shirt; it's not cold.'

‘If you're feeling shy, I'll go and stand by the door while you change,' he offered.

‘What it lacks in length, it certainly makes up for in width!' Helen giggled as she slipped his shirt over her head and wrapped the rough khaki flannel round her.

The look on Adam's face as he turned round, confirmed her suspicions that she looked ridiculous.

‘If you laugh, I'll take it off,' she warned.

‘Is that a promise?'

‘Well, I would – only I've practically nothing on underneath.' Her cheeks flared as he raised an eyebrow.

‘Come and sit here until your dress is dry. It shouldn't take long,' he said, as he settled himself comfortably on a bale of straw.

The hay was prickly, but not as itchy as Adam's shirt. Helen fidgeted so much that in the end Adam unfastened the front buttons of the shirt, easing the scratchy fabric away from her body.

‘Is that any better?'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The touch of his fingers against her bare skin was electrifying. She could feel her pulse racing and was sure that he must be able to hear the pounding of her heart.

Trembling, she looked up and was immediately daunted by the naked desire in Adam's eyes.

‘Helen,' he whispered hoarsely, ‘my sweet Helen.'

Fear and ardour mingled within her. She longed to reach up and pull his dark, tousled head down onto her breast. An inner caution warned her that to do so might be foolhardy. The turmoil of her feelings raged every bit as fiercely as the storm outside.

A sudden violent crash of thunder, that seemed to be immediately overhead, made Helen cry out. It seemed to be a signal for Adam to hold her closer, as if to shield her from the storm.

He moved so suddenly the shirt fell open. For a long moment, neither of them spoke or moved. He stared, as if transfixed, at the exposed, pearly-white flesh of her body and she felt powerless to cover her nakedness. Then, with a groan, he lowered his head and she felt the imprint of his burning lips on her cool skin.

Gently, but thoroughly, he began to explore her panting body with his lips. She murmured with pleasure as his lips focused on the delicate pink nipples of her firm, pointed breasts, and he gently teased them erect, before moving down the length of her body.

She lay back on the soft bed of hay, every nerve-end tingling as she succumbed to the magic of his hands as they stroked and probed.

When he raised himself on one elbow and began removing his trousers, she tried to protest, but his mouth came down over her lips, silencing her in its own special way.

Gradually, she relaxed. Her breathing became more even and a warm glow suffused her limbs. She made no resistance as she felt his naked body cover her own.

For a moment they lay quite still, savouring the fusion of their flesh. Trembling, she moved one hand slowly over his broad shoulders and on down to his slim waist.

Suddenly he seized her other hand, dragging it downwards until it brushed against something hard. Firmly he wrapped her fingers around his erection and the throbbing that met her touch made her breath quicken.

Heat surged through her, as he forced her thighs apart and his probing fingers entered her body. As his hand created a rhythm, her senses stirred and, she felt herself straining towards him. Then he was guiding her, letting her be the one to make the final commitment.

There was a moment of searing pain when she thought the hugeness of him would rip her in two. But then the pain was gone and ripples of mounting tension made her body heave and contort, fusing with his movements until they both reached a passionate frenzy. The culminating crescendo of sweetness left her clinging to him breathlessly, trembling and exhausted.

The storm was over, and the sun was shining again from a placid blue sky as they left the barn. Words deserted them as, hand in hand, they hurried back to Sturbury. When they reached the Guard Room at Bulpitts, they found the duty-driver waiting impatiently.

‘Sorry I'm late. We got caught out by the storm and had to shelter,' Adam told him.

‘Hop in.' The soldier ground out his cigarette and swung up into the cab.

There was no time for any kind of farewell. Helen stood in the driveway, waving, as the truck vanished in a scattering of gravel and a cloud of dust.

The war raged on. Although most of the major cities and towns as far north as Liverpool and Humberside had been devastated, people remained undaunted. Their fight went on, their energies directed on plans to invade Europe and eventually attack Germany itself. The first foothold had already been made in Sicily and it was rumoured that the Eighth Army, under General Montgomery, planned to land at Salerno.

Even though rationing grew tighter and an increasing number of commodities became unobtainable – except on the black market – people were still cheerful and confident that the war would soon be over.

Most able-bodied men were now in the services and many of the younger women had volunteered, or were being called up. Everyone claimed that once the Eighth Army was established in southern Europe, the invasion of France would follow.

Even in Sturbury, talk seemed to focus on this one topic, with everyone speculating about the possible date. Nothing else seemed to matter. Even when Helen's exam results arrived, Dr Price managed little more than a perfunctory acknowledgement.

‘At least university will keep you out of the Forces for two or three years,' Mrs Price said with relief.

‘By then this dreadful war may be over,' Dr Price agreed gloomily.

‘Until term starts you can go on helping at Bulpitts,' Mrs Price went on. ‘Heaven knows we need every pair of hands we can find – the place is overflowing with wounded men. If casualties go on at this rate they'll have to put up some temporary huts. It's impossible to squeeze any more into the house, and they've even put some beds out in the corridors.'

‘You're working that girl too hard,' Dr Price warned his wife, when Helen left the room. ‘She looks absolutely washed-out.'

Mrs Price was forced to agree. She, too, had noticed the dark circles under Helen's eyes, accentuated by the paleness of her cheeks.

‘I keep telling her to take a day off and get some rest, but she's become almost fanatical about work,' she told her husband. ‘I don't think she's sleeping well; probably too exhausted to unwind when she gets to bed. Someone has to go to Mere tomorrow for a fresh supply of drugs, so perhaps I'll send her. At least it will be a day away from the wards.'