Someone Special (69 page)

‘Oh, well,’ JJ said, starting to eat his salmon once more. ‘Temper apart, she’s not a bad bargain, young Flicky. Can’t cook, I’ll grant you, but there are other things … she’s most awfully good at them.’

He gave Anna a look which she immediately interpreted and decided to ignore. Boasting about his sugar-baby’s sexual prowess to his daughter, Anna thought, helping herself to more green peas, simply showed that JJ was just as immature, in his way, as his new young wife.

But right now she was getting down off the Number 7 bus outside the King’s Head. The pub was brightly lit and her watch showed her that she was about ten minutes late. She could have borrowed her mother’s car, but that would have meant driving back to Norwich alone, and she knew Dan would offer to see her home. Anna was used to driving on the right, not the left, and had no desire to practise after dark and in a strange vehicle.

‘You awright, my woman?’ the bus conductor asked as she climbed down, leaning out on the step. ‘Someone meetin’ you? There in’t another 7b now till tomorrer but if you give a knock to the cottage nearest the post office, old Buggy Fuller drive a taxi now. He’ll git you back to Goldenstone.’

‘I’m not going home, Sid, I’m meeting a friend in the pub,’ Anna explained. Sid had been a conductor on the 7 and 7b for years; she remembered him from way back
and was flattered that he had obviously remembered her too. ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’

‘That’s awright, gal. Orf we go, then.’

He tinged the bell, the bus lurched into life and Anna began to cross the wide strip of gravel, heading for the bar. She was not likely to see either her father or Felicity in here, since if they went drinking locally she rather thought they would favour The Globe, farther down the road, but in any case she doubted whether Dan would want to stay long. It was simply somewhere they both knew, somewhere to meet. A village pub was scarcely the best place for a quiet talk, and she knew that Dan would have a good deal to say to her.

Anna hesitated for a moment outside the door. It was a windy April night with the stars very bright overhead and the scent of lilac from a nearby garden was on the boisterous breeze. Where would they go after a drink or two, she and Dan? As children they had traipsed over this countryside on their bikes and on foot, investigating Braydeston Hills, the river, the lake at Pedham Dam, the railway cuttings and the broads themselves with the wild life which fascinated Anna still – the coypu, those enormous ratlike creatures which infested the waterways, splashing noisily into the water as dusk fell; the swallowtail butterflies fluttering above the reed-beds; the industrious water voles and the squabbling ducks and coots. Then as teenagers they had sailed on the Yare and competed in races on various broads, a group usually, seldom splitting into pairs. Since then, she and Dan had met in Paris, and what could be more romantic than Paris in the spring, except perhaps Paris in the autumn, with the leaves drifting down from the trees lining the Champs Elysées? That was why Dan had started to propose marriage every six or eight months, of course, because Paris was so romantic, such a marvellous city for lovers. But she, Anna, did not want a lover, certainly did not want a
husband. Lovers let you down, husbands cast you off … it’s better to have friends, Anna told herself defensively, standing outside the pub door and hearing, through it, the murmur of voices, the clunk of darts on the board, the landlord’s wife calling for more help please, we’re busy through here! Yes, it’s better to enjoy your career, have lots of friends, and create a life which doesn’t need a close relationship with someone else. That’s safer, much safer, than even the best of lovers. Only … it was so cold somehow, such a chilly sort of life! Safe, yes, she acknowledged that it was safe. But cold, cold as charity. In her mind she saw the years stretching ahead like a long, grey road, with her walking down the middle of it, ignoring other people, needing only herself, wearing her solitude like a frosty nimbus about her person.

‘Excuse … Good Lord, Anna, it’s you! What on earth are you doing, hovering out here?’

Dan, warm and real, took both her hands in his and then, light as a moth, kissed her cheek. Without meaning to do so, Anna moved closer, to get into the aura of warmth and security which surrounded him.

‘Oh, Dan, I was just going to go inside. I don’t know why I was hovering, perhaps I was wondering who was in there that we knew.’

Dan nodded and put his arm around her shoulders, turning her away from the pub, with its promise of warmth and brightness, and back into the night. With him beside her the night, which had been simply dark, seemed to sparkle like a diamond.

‘Yes, I know what you mean. All the people who knew us when we were kids. Where would you like to go, then? Have you eaten? We could go down to the coast, get ourselves a meal, or we could have fish and chips in newspaper, if you’d rather.’

The cold loneliness which she sensed in her inner self retreated, melted away, when Dan was near. He was so
warm, so confident – he seemed to know just where he was going and he wanted to take her with him, to make her a part of his life. Why couldn’t she give in, let him love her? But the risks, oh, the risks were too great, it was better to enjoy his company as a friend and not risk his realising that she was nothing special, that he could do better elsewhere. But now he was warm and close and very much her friend; his affection shone out of his eyes even in the faint light from the pub windows. Anna took his hand, smiling up at him, suddenly very happy. This meeting was just fun and friendship, she told herself. Enjoy it while you can.

‘Oh, Dan, it’s such a lovely evening … let’s go down to the coast!’

He smiled back at her, eyes dancing, clearly infected by her mood.

‘Right. Yarmouth’s nearest, we’ll go there.’

The drive was exhilarating. Dan had the hood down and all the scents of the night were carried on the wind as it blew across the flat marshy meadows, even the subtle scent from the pollarded willows which lined the road and the watery smell of the dykes which cross-crossed Acle marshes. Above their heads, huge stars glittered in the velvet black of the sky and the quiet, dark shapes of cattle grazing seemed to accompany their onward rush.

It was too early in the year for Yarmouth to be lit up for the season but they went down Regent Street and Anna hopped out and bought fish and chips, then they drove the full length of the street and turned on to the promenade, where Dan pulled the car to a halt.

‘We’re going to get greasy,’ he said warningly. ‘Shall we eat ‘em in the car or on the beach? The beach is best.’

They clambered out of the car and down on to the cold white Yarmouth sand, unwashed by tides yet still smelling fresh, salty.

‘I salted and vinegared them, but it’ll only last about halfway down,’ Anna said, digging out long strips of sea-fresh skate and cramming it into her mouth. Nothing had ever tasted so good, unless it was the crisp, golden batter or the beautiful greasy chips. ‘We should have bought some pop to drink with it.’

‘We’ll go to a pub later,’ Dan said thickly. ‘I wonder why no one ever serves skate in Paris?’

‘French fries aren’t chips,’ Anna said through a mouthful. ‘Besides, they’d think battering fresh fish was a crime. I wonder why I don’t agree?’

Dan laughed, rolled his paper into a ball and pushed it into his coat pocket. Then he peered hopefully into the newspaper on Anna’s lap.

‘You don’t criticise English fried fish because we’re in England and it’s a mild night and the stars are much bigger and brighter over Yarmouth beach than they ever are over Paris. Got any chips going begging?’

‘You pig! Well, you can have those few, but don’t you touch my fish!’

When the food was eaten they took off shoes, stockings and socks and ran down to the sea, the slope of the beach too steep to allow more than the briefest of forays into the waves. Both Dan and Anna knew all about the North Sea shelf which meant you could walk in a foot or so then find yourself floundering in water up to your waist; one more incautious step could plunge you into ten or twelve feet of water. So they were careful, washing the grease off their hands and mouths, then retreating to stand on the hard, ridged sand as the waves crashed hungrily in, holding hands and staring out to sea while the wind tried to push them back up the beach and into the town.

‘Shall we go back to the car, then? You must be getting chilly.’ Dan’s words were snatched from his mouth and hurled behind him by the strength of the wind, but
Anna got the gist of what he said and nodded, clutching him tightly.

‘All right,’ she shouted. ‘Race you!’

The wind was behind them as they slogged up the beach, vaulted on to the promenade and ran for the car. Dan reached it first and stood there, arms wide, and caught Anna as she reached him, clasping her to his chest. She stayed there for a moment, feeling the beat of his heart against her breast, then she sighed and pulled away.

‘Oh Dan, wasn’t that lovely? But we’d better get a move on. Mummy will worry if I’m too late.’

Dan ushered her into the car and climbed behind the wheel. Then he turned to her, just the flash of teeth and eyes visible through the dark.

‘Anna, hasn’t it been nice? You’ve enjoyed it as much as I have, I can tell. We’re good together, we enjoy the same things, we’ve had similar experiences, we’re in similar jobs. Anna, darling, do let’s get married! I have to ask, but if you say “no” this time I won’t bother you ever again. That’s a promise, because if you don’t want to marry me after tonight then I suppose you never will.’

Anna turned to him. He was not looking at her now, he was staring ahead of him, through the windscreen. He had put the hood up, so it was warm and private in the small sports car. His profile was achingly familiar and in a way she knew she loved him – but not enough, never enough.

‘Oh Dan, I wish … but I’m just not the marrying kind! Please let’s stay friends, it’s terribly important to me. Please don’t make it marriage or nothing.’

‘I’m thirty years old and I want a home of my own and a family. A wife to kiss and cuddle, maybe kids … but somewhere of my own. If you’re absolutely determined not to marry, darling Anna, then I – I suppose I’ll have to look for someone else.’

‘Don’t try to pretend I’m your one love, Danny,’ Anna said chidingly. It was meant to sound light, understanding, but it came out reproachful. ‘There have always been girls, you know there have.’

He shook his head, a lock of hair flopped across his forehead. He still didn’t look at her. ‘No. There was a girl I thought a lot of, but it wasn’t love or anything like that, it was just because we’d got on well as kids. And there were girls, of course, when I was at university, when I was in the RAF, even when I first started work with the Diplomatic Corps. A fellow has to go out with a few girls so he’ll know when the right one comes along. And I knew at once, Anna. Since that first time after the war when we met up in Paris, I’ve not so much as dated another woman. It’s just been you. And it’ll always be you and no one else, if you’ll marry me.’

It was odd, a part of her mind believed him totally, yet another part of her mind was sure he lied. There must have been girls, a great many girls … he was a man, wasn’t he? Her mind whirled with confusing, conflicting thoughts. He was so attractive, there must have been other girls in the four years he had been taking her out. What was it Constance had said?
He’s like your father
… something like that, anyway. He had fascinated Anna from the time they were children together; she could not believe that he had not fascinated others, very probably into bed. He knew all about the things Anna only guessed at with vague distaste, he was experienced, a man of the world.

But he had never tried his expertise on her. He kissed, cuddled, proposed marriage, but he had never tried to get her into bed. Which must mean, Anna supposed dully, that he simply did not find her sufficiently attractive. Yet he had asked her to marry him time after time, and she was sure – almost sure – that the desperation in his proposals rang true. He really did want to marry her, so
why couldn’t she just say ‘Yes please, Dan’, and make them both happy?

But it was no use, not really. He was fascinating and attractive, like JJ, and he would soon discover that she was neither and leave her, with a broken heart and an empty ache inside. Better anything than that, better even the ache she had now, each time he said goodbye and left her.

‘And is that your answer, Anna? Are you saying that you won’t marry me, now or ever, and I might as well forget the whole thing?’

‘No, of course I’m not. Oh Dan, I’m so fond of you …’

She got no further. He leaned across the car and pulled her into his arms. He began to kiss her, but these were not the quiet, tender kisses she had associated with Dan. He kissed her hard, almost unkindly, yet instead of crying out or resenting this unbrotherly caress she almost purred, pressing closer to him, clinging, not even thinking about the rights and wrongs, pros and cons, simply enjoying everything, even the stubble on his chin which dug into her flesh as his mouth moved on hers. And presently he made the seats recline and heaved her on to his lap. She was so excited, so fired by him, she did not even pretend to herself that she did not want him. She found that her whole body tingling with desire, felt alive all over, in a way she had never felt in her life before. She clung to Dan and she told him she loved him and tears slid down her cheeks with the wonder of it. And she knew that he was going to make love to her, going to ‘go all the way’, as the girls in the office put it. Knew she wanted him, now, at any price.

Much later, she lay in his arms and the gentle kisses came again, travelling featherlight across her face, neck, breasts. She touched his cheek with her fingertips. Outside the car the night pressed close and the wind rocked their
little cradle …
Rockabye baby, in a sports car, Daniel and Anna, how lucky you are
. She whispered the words beneath her breath and Dan chuckled and told her he loved her to distraction and didn’t think he could have gone on living without her and Anna purred and rubbed her cheek against his and would not allow herself to think.