Spoils of War (34 page)

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Authors: Catrin Collier

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Family Life, #Historical, #Historical Fiction, #Russian

BOOK: Spoils of War
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‘You’re not sure.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about Maurice and wishing we’d made love just once, and then there’s my training. I want to finish it and become a nurse.’

‘That, I think, is a very good idea. You’re too bright to hide all that talent away in domestic drudgery just yet.’

‘That’s what I keep telling Angelo. The problem is –’ she looked at the toast she was browning over the fire, pulled it from the fork and turned it over to toast the other side – ‘I want you to tell me if Angelo is my Mr Right when, as you said, no one can possibly know the answer to that question except me.’

‘Have you considered the reason you’re asking is that you already know Angelo isn’t the one for you?’

‘Or is he, and I’m crying for the moon because I want Maurice back and I can’t have him?’

‘Have you met anyone else?’ Bethan asked perceptively.

‘Where would I meet someone else?’

‘In the hospital. You’re a nurse, you must meet lots of young doctors, just as I met Dr John.’

‘The doctors in Cardiff Infirmary treat nurses like lepers. They’d never dream of considering any of us as human, let alone women with feelings.’

‘Come on .. .’

‘Have you ever picked a towel up off the floor after a doctor’s dried his hands on it in front of you and dropped it, sooner than contaminate his fingers by touching yours?’

‘Unfortunately, yes. And now you mention it I can even remember what it felt like.’

‘And every free moment I get away from the hospital I spend in Pontypridd, and as Angelo’s here, there’s no chance of meeting anyone else.’ She slipped the first piece of toast from the fork on to a plate and buttered it.

‘Perhaps you should make a point of going to other places.’

‘If I did that I wouldn’t see you and my sisters. But what if Angelo
is
the right man for me, Auntie Beth, and I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist? That’s why I wanted to know the exact moment you realised you were in love with Dr John and he was the only man for you.’

‘I’m not sure I’m the best person to talk to about this, Liza. You see, looking back I don’t think there ever was such a moment. And my relationship with Andrew hasn’t been all red roses and romance, not in the picture-book sense. It’s no secret in Pontypridd that he only married me because I was pregnant.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘It’s not a good beginning for a marriage. I loved him, but when we married I couldn’t be sure he was marrying me because he wanted to and he loved me, or out of a sense of duty to me and the baby. Then we set up home in London.’ Bethan laid the sewing on her lap, picked up the tea Liza had poured for her and hunched over, staring into the fire. ‘It was awful. I didn’t know a soul apart from Andrew. We lived in a poky little flat, and the baby was ill.’

‘Rachel?’

‘No. His name was Edmund. He died not long after he was born.’

‘I’m so sorry, Auntie Beth. I shouldn’t have asked you all these questions.’

‘I’m glad you did in a way, because in asking the questions you might be able to learn from my mistakes. And it’s ancient history now.’ Bethan tried to smile and failed. ‘I have Rachel, Eddie, and you and Polly and Nell and half-shares in Mary. Six, happy healthy children.’

‘And Dr John.’

‘And Dr John,’ Bethan echoed, ‘but remember what I said, Liza, and be careful. Making love is wonderful, and especially wonderful when it’s with the one person you love and value above all others. But having to marry because a baby is on the way is no way to begin life together, because you can never be sure of one another’s motives for marrying, or whether your husband resents you for pushing him into taking responsibility he didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. If you’re not sure Angelo is the right one for you, perhaps it might be an idea for you to stop seeing him for a while. Take a break, meet other boys. In a month or two you may feel differently about Angelo or find someone else. Who knows, maybe even another Maurice?’

‘There’ll never be another Maurice, Auntie Beth, perhaps that’s the problem. One of the girls in the hostel thinks that everyone has only one soul mate. If you don’t meet him, or he ups and dies on you, that’s it. You have to wait until you’re reunited in heaven.’

‘And I think she’s had a sad experience in the war.’

The door slammed and Andrew shouted from the hall. Liza jumped out of her chair.

‘Hello, Dr John,’ she greeted Andrew as he walked in. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘That would be lovely, thank you, Liza, and as you’re my adopted daughter do you think you can bring yourself to call me Uncle Andrew like Polly and Nell?’

‘I’ll try but it won’t be easy. All through the war Auntie Bethan and everyone else referred to you as Dr John and that’s how I always think of you. Is that the time?’ She looked at the clock as she gave him his tea. ‘I must run down the hill or the dinner Angelo is cooking for me will be burned. ‘Bye, Auntie Beth.’ She kissed Bethan’s cheek. ‘Bye, Uncle Andrew.’ To Andrew’s amazement she offered him a kiss as well. ‘See you later.’ Charging into the hall, she picked up her coat and dashed through the front door.

‘I wasn’t expecting you back.’

‘I had a heavy surgery, then I called into the hospital.’ He sugared the tea Liza had poured for him. ‘Diana’s had her second session with the physiotherapist and although it’s early days, the specialist and my father are cautiously optimistic that she’ll regain some, if not all the movement in her left arm and leg.’

‘And her memory?’

‘It’s early days.’

‘But the specialist still thinks it could be gone for good?’

‘There’s tissue damage. You know as well as I do, Bethan, that compared to some of the options, memory damage is not that dreadful.’

‘Try telling that to Ronnie.’

‘I may have to.’ He settled in the chair opposite hers and pulled out the pipe that he had bought himself a few days before as part of his drive to cut back on smoking, on the premise that a pipe was more fiddly than cigarettes and he’d be less inclined to indulge. ‘So, after my full morning, I thought I’d come home for some lunch with my wife.’

Resting the skirt she’d been hemming on her lap she looked up at him. ‘How long were you out in the hall?’

‘Long enough,’ he replied quietly.

‘You heard me talking to Liza?’

‘You never told me you weren’t sure whether I’d married you because of the baby. For the record I loved you, Beth, and I would have married you whether there’d been a baby or not, and even if you hadn’t been able to have a baby. But tell me, would you have married me?’

‘If you heard me talking to Liza you must have heard me tell her that I loved you.’

‘Loved – the past tense. And you still haven’t answered my question. Did you feel trapped into marrying me? I am doctor and man enough to know that in that situation women can feel just as trapped as men.’

‘I married you and you married me because given your sense of responsibility and mine, there wasn’t any other real option open to either of us at the time. There’s no point in raking it over now. We both know that a free choice later on, without a pregnancy, would almost certainly have given us a better start.’

‘And we both know that if there hadn’t been a baby, or a quick and shabby registry office wedding, you would have been free to love David Ford.’

‘Not David again …’

‘Please, Bethan. I’m not shouting, I’m talking, because there are several things that need saying. Ever since I came home there’s been this strain between us. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s only to be expected after over five years away. In that time Rachel’s grown from a baby into a proper little girl – some would even say madam. Eddie was born and reached the ripe age of four and a half before I saw him, and both of them have done very well without a father meddling in their lives. I knew when I came home – perhaps better than most of the men who came back – that nothing can ever recapture those missing years. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the loss of everything we had before. The closeness – the intimacy – the shared smiles … Am I wrong or was there really a time when I could look into your eyes and you in mine and we’d know without saying a single word, no matter how many people were in the room, just what the other was thinking?’

When she didn’t reply he pushed tobacco into his pipe, struck a match and lit it.

‘A man came into the surgery today. He and his wife had quarrelled. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. He was a territorial, one of the first to be called up in ‘39. They married because they were in love and terrified at the thought of never seeing one another again. They had a twenty-four-hour honeymoon in the back bedroom of her mother’s house, then he went to France. Like me he was taken prisoner at Dunkirk. Since he’s been home they’ve done nothing but fight. Last week she took the poker to him and broke his arm.’

‘A bit excessive.’

‘Some would say she suffered extreme provocation. All he’s called her since he got home, is “old hag”. He keeps complaining that he left behind a pretty young girl and came back to an old woman who’d lost her looks working long hours in a munitions factory. I didn’t help when I suggested he look in a mirror. Six years can wreak havoc. The difference between a fresh-faced, rosy-cheeked nineteen-year-old girl and a worked-out, exhausted, twenty-five-year-old woman is considerable in his eyes. But saying that, he’s lost half his hair and all his teeth. The poker incident was the last straw. Both of them have given up. They’re getting a divorce.’

‘Read the papers; it’s happening all over the country.’ The words came out easily enough but her heart was thundering when she said them. Was that what he was leading up to? A request for a divorce? Wasn’t that what she wanted?

He slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. ‘Not to us, Beth. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let it happen to us! Do you think I don’t know how unhappy you’ve been since I’ve come home? Do you think it’s been easy for me, living with you day after day, climbing into the same bed as you night after night, watching you run the house, play with the children, and never once smile at me. Oh, the children – yes, you smile at them – and our friends, your father, Ronnie, Alma, Charlie, David Ford …’

‘That’s it, isn’t it, Andrew? David Ford.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted finally, deciding that even if she walked away from him, for once he was going to tell her exactly how he felt. ‘But before you say another word I know you’ve never made love to him and probably only kissed him once or twice and then no more passionately than you’ve kissed Charlie.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because if you two had ever jumped into bed together he would never have come up here for dinner. He’s far too much of an officer and a gentleman for that,’ he derided, unable to resist the gibe.

‘Then, if you know we’ve never slept together why are you always talking about him and why are you so jealous?’

‘Because he can make you smile and laugh, and I can’t. Because when I was away, he was here, making the children and you like and even love him. Because he shares memories with you that I played no part in. Maybe you didn’t mean to shut me out when I came back, Beth, but I felt that you did and maybe – just maybe – that’s entirely my own fault.’

‘Do you realise this is the first time you’ve called me Beth in months? It’s always been Bethan.’ Her eyes were bright, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from emotion or anger.

‘What I’m trying to say is, will you give me and us another chance, Beth? I know what you feel for David Ford and I suspect he’d take you on tomorrow if you asked him. God! It makes my head spin to think how fast he’d take you and the children on if you told him we were getting a divorce. The stupid thing is, I’ve nothing against him apart from the fact that he’s rather obviously fallen in love with you. He’s a good man, and no doubt he’d give you and the children everything you want – in America. But I can’t bear the thought of my children growing up without me, much less in another country, and I have no idea how I’d live without you. So I’m asking you to let me try and make you fall in love with me again.’

‘No one can control their emotions, Andrew.’

‘But we can control our lives, and it seems to me that we’ve both been working far too hard since I came home.’

‘I haven’t been working at all.’

‘Yes you have – boring tedious work, running the house, trying to cope with Alma, Masha and Charlie, Ronnie and Diana’s, and now Liza’s problems. So many problems that have no solutions. I’ll go and see my father this afternoon and ask him to take over the practice next week or bring in a locum. I know there’s no way to tell, but as far as I can forecast nothing much should happen and if it does, tough. I won’t be around. We’ll pile the kids in the car and take them down to the chalet.’

‘We were going to go down the Gower with Charlie and Alma.’

‘Not this time. For once I want you to put me and us before everyone else. Will you come away with me for a week?’

‘The children have school, there’s the house …’

‘The children will always have school, there’s always the house. Yes or no, Beth?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your waitress is very efficient,’ Gabrielle commented, sitting with her back to the window. She was beginning to understand why Tony had taken her breakfast tray upstairs. Every time the door clanged open she sensed another pair of eyes staring at her. The café was positively buzzing with excited whisperings.

‘She’s done the job before.’

‘Perhaps I should hang a board around my neck:
“Genuine German girl, and former enemy.”
She tried to smile when two men who came to pay their bill stared blatantly at her.

‘They’ll get used to you.’

‘I feel like an animal in a zoo.’

‘Gabrielle, about last night,’ he returned to where she was sitting on a stool at the counter. ‘I’m sorry you got the wrong impression about the café.’

‘You told me that you owned part of your family’s business. I assumed, as owner, you could do whatever you wanted with this place.’

‘I’m sure I said I managed it. It must have been a language thing.’

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