The Penny Bangle (20 page)

She didn’t know why she was going to so much trouble. She had convinced herself he wouldn’t come, that something would prevent him.

But here he was, all tanned and handsome, looking really marvellous in his tropical khaki drill. It was very shallow of her to notice he had perfect legs for shorts, of course she realised that – but seeing him look so gorgeous only added to her happiness.

‘So you managed to get your lift,’ she said, unable to stop grinning like a cat who’s lapped up half a pint of cream.

‘Yes,’ said Robert, but he wasn’t smiling back. ‘Cassie, you hardly ever wrote to me.’

‘I did write!’ She stared at him, astonished. ‘I’ve written to you nearly every day! Why didn’t you write to
me
?’

‘I did write to you.’ Robert looked at her intently, studying her face. But then – to her intense relief – he cracked a sort of smile. ‘I suppose some letters must go astray?’

‘Yes, they must!’ cried Cassie. ‘I bet there are Forces postal depots all over the Med full of sacks of undelivered mail.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Robert.

‘There’s no perhaps about it!’

‘Cass, don’t look at me like that. You say you wrote, and I believe you.’

‘I should think so, too.’ But Cassie was still annoyed with him. How could he dare to think she hadn’t bothered to write? ‘I wrote you dozens of letters, Rob,’ she said. ‘They’ll probably all turn up at once some day.’

‘I dare say they will.’ Robert shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Cassie, I’m such an idiot sometimes,’ he added ruefully. ‘I’m going to be here for a week. Do you think you could get some leave?’

‘No, but I’ll sort something out, don’t worry.’ Cassie grinned at him – she couldn’t help it. ‘Helen Crane’s been having an affair with a married captain. I’ve been doing all her motor maintenance, so she owes me half a dozen favours.’

‘Good, let’s call them in.’

‘Where are we going?’ Cassie asked, as Robert picked her hat up from the table in the hallway and put it on her head.

‘We’ll have something to eat, and then – we’ll see.’

They walked from Cassie’s billet into the old part of the city, dodging a dozen hawkers selling everything from genuine Middle Kingdom artefacts to ersatz versions of American cigarettes.

Robert stopped on a corner to give some street kids money, and soon he had a whole tribe chasing after him, all shrieking for baksheesh.

‘They think you’re Father Christmas,’ Cassie told him, as the grubby, chattering column grew in length and volume.

‘Poor little sods,’ said Robert. He took more change out of his pockets, dividing it between the ten or fifteen ragged children who had followed him.

‘That’s more than enough, Rob,’ Cassie told him, for by now she was almost immune to children begging on the streets, and had learned that the best way to help them was to give to missions where they were clothed and fed. ‘Go on, you lot, hop it,’ she told the clamouring children, as they grinned and jabbered and held out their skinny hands for more.

‘Baksheesh, British officer, baksheesh!’ exclaimed a lanky ten-year-old in a dirty tunic, jumping up and down in front of Robert.

‘No, that’s all you’re getting,’ insisted Cassie, and she clapped her hands at them. ‘Go on, clear off – shoo!’

Eventually, the children shooed.

They turned another corner to find a row of traders with their goods laid out on carpets on the pavements. As Europeans in business suits and Allied servicemen and women walked by, the men called out to them.

‘You buy a present for your pretty lady?’ one of them demanded, as he grabbed at Robert’s sleeve.

‘No, thank you.’ Robert shook him off.

‘Your man, he’s mean.’ The trader grinned at Cassie, revealing stumps of brown-stained, rotting teeth. ‘You find a nice man, plenty money,
he
buy you presents – yes?’

Cassie laughed, and stopped to look at the stuff the man was selling – earrings, necklaces and silver bangles. ‘Those silver ones are pretty,’ she told Robert, pointing.

‘They sell stuff like that in the bazaars in India,’ said Robert. ‘But it isn’t silver, it’s some sort of alloy. Cassie, darling, if you’d like a bangle, I shall buy you one, but from a proper jeweller’s shop.’

‘Bangle, bangle, lady wants a bangle!’ cried the trader, scooping up a pile of them and trying to push some on to Cassie’s wrist. ‘My bangles, solid silver, very good!’

‘How much?’ asked Cassie. Poor bloke, she thought, he’s just like all the rest of us, trying to get by and make a living, and what’s the harm in that?

The man considered for a moment, eyeing Robert up and down, and then he named a price.

Robert worked it out in English money.

‘That’s about a shilling for a dozen, or a penny each,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Come on, Cassie, you don’t really want a penny bangle. Let’s go to a real jeweller, eh? They’ll still be open.’

‘Buy me just one.’ Cassie smiled at Robert. ‘Just one penny bangle?’

‘Just one?’ echoed the trader, eyeing Robert mournfully.

‘Just one,’ said Robert firmly, and gave the man some money. ‘It’s all right, keep the change.’

The man looked puzzled for a moment. But then he understood, and shoved the money deep inside his robe. Salaaming like a puppet on a string, he called down all the blessings of the Prophet on the generous English officer, wishing him long life, a pretty wife and many sons.

As Robert and Cassie walked on down the street, the other hawkers shouted out to them, offering them even better, even cheaper jewellery.

But Robert hustled Cassie on. ‘You mustn’t wear that thing,’ he said. ‘It’s bound to tarnish. It’ll make your wrist go green.’

‘I’ll take the risk,’ said Cassie, and she slipped it on. ‘My penny bangle,’ she said smiling, as she turned it round and round. ‘Look, Rob. It’s very pretty. Do you see these little patterns?’

‘I tell you, it’ll make your arm fall off.’ Robert took Cassie’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s find a jeweller.’

‘How long will the army be in Africa?’ asked Cassie, as they came out of a jeweller’s shop, where Robert had bought a heavy silver bracelet that fitted perfectly.

‘Not much longer,’ Robert said. ‘The desert war is over, the Germans are defeated. Some Italian units are still holding out, but they must know they’re beaten.’

‘Where will you be going next, I wonder?’

‘Italy,’ said Robert. ‘It’s all hush-hush, of course, so absolutely everybody knows. The Yanks and us, we chase the Axis armies back to Rome, then to Berlin. Or anyway, that seems to be the plan.’

‘I could come to Italy,’ said Cassie.

‘What would you do in Italy?’

‘I’d earn my keep, don’t worry. I could drive an ambulance, a jeep, a three-ton truck. Anything, in fact, except a tank. I’ve passed all the tests.’

‘They probably won’t want ATS girls. Cassie, this won’t be a Sunday picnic. It’s going to be a real hard slog, making our way up Italy. There won’t be any jobs for women anyway, except for nursing staff.’

Robert smiled affectionately at Cassie. ‘You stay here in Egypt, where you’re safe. When I get leave, I’ll come to Alex, and I’ll take you out, all right?’

But Cassie was already plotting, scheming, wondering, how she could get to Italy. She would ask the major. Annie Sheringham was sure to know.

They went to a city restaurant which was full of Allied army officers and their civilian women, French girls in couture gowns all dolled up to the nines, dark-eyed Lebanese businessmen in suits all doing deals, and shifty-looking gentlemen of indeterminate extraction, together with a sprinkling of service girls in uniform, all of them with men.

‘What would you like to eat?’ asked Robert, as he looked for a waiter to take them to a table.

‘Oh, I dunno.’ Cassie was too happy to feel like eating. ‘Those mince things, I suppose,’ she told him, pointing to a plate being carried by a sweating waiter. ‘You know, the ones on sticks.’

‘You mean kebabs,’ said Robert, wrinkling his nose. ‘They’re made of donkey’s innards and old socks. What about to drink?’

‘I’ll have mint tea, with sugar if they’ve got it.’

‘Jesus, that sounds boring.’ Robert smiled. ‘I dare say they have wine. Or, if we’re lucky, some champagne.’

‘Champagne doesn’t agree with me.’ Cassie blushed, remembering the last time she had drunk champagne. ‘You have what you want. I’m on the wagon.’

‘You think I’m going to get you plastered, don’t you?’ Robert reached out to stroke a stray, blonde curl. ‘You think I’m going to get you drunk, and then I’ll take you somewhere and seduce you?’

‘I don’t think anything of the sort.’ Still tingling from his touch, Cassie’s blush grew hotter and she felt it creeping down her neck. ‘You’re a perfect gentleman. Frances said so when I told her what had happened in London.’

‘I’m a gentleman?’ Robert laughed. ‘Oh, Cassie, love – don’t bank on it!’

Cassie didn’t need alcohol to make her want to be seduced by lovely Robert Denham. Since she’d had his postcard, she had thought of very little else, and the other girls had teased her constantly, seeing who could make her blush the most.

The service in the restaurant was ridiculously slow. While they were waiting for their dinner, Robert smoked, drank whisky, and all the while he kept his dark brown eyes on Cassie’s face.

They didn’t need to talk. They started sentences, but didn’t finish them, breaking off to ask each other what they had been saying, laughing and admitting they didn’t have a clue.

‘Shall we go on somewhere?’ he enquired, after they had finally eaten dinner, nibbled some sticky dates and drunk their sweet Egyptian coffee.

‘To a club, you mean?’ asked Cassie, wondering if a club would let her in with just two stripes, even if she were with an officer. ‘I don’t think I want to be indoors,’ she told him. ‘It’s a lovely night, so why don’t we walk along the shore?’

Robert was so relieved to find that Cassie hadn’t changed – that she was still the same sweet, pretty girl with the cheeky grin and the engaging way with her that made his heart beat faster.

Aldershot or Alexandria – he couldn’t have cared less where they were, or where they went, provided they could be together. So he paid for dinner, and then they went out into the warm, soft velvet night, which wasn’t anything like the nights in deserts, where the temperature could drop to freezing, or a few degrees below.

They strolled along the crescent shoreline dotted with tall palm trees and white-painted houses, some of them very grand. Alex is a city used to lovers, Robert thought, remembering that it was here Antony had fallen for the wily Cleopatra. But Cassie wasn’t anything like Cleopatra, who had had two lovers, Julius Caesar and Mark Antony.

Cassie and Stephen …

Stop it now, he told himself, stop spoiling everything.

The moon was up, so it was very bright, reminding him of the winter night in Dorset when he had first met Cassie, and he had decided she was going straight back home to Birmingham.

He shuddered at the thought.

‘What’s the matter, Rob?’ she asked, obviously detecting the tremor which was rippling through him now.

‘Nothing,’ he said, and held her hand more tightly, as if he was afraid to let her go.

‘What are you going to do in Alex?’ Cassie asked him as they strolled along.

‘Meet up with some of the other fellows from my regiment, have a few drinks, play a few games of billiards, get my hair cut, let a barber shave me properly – and see you when you can get away.’

‘I’ll be off duty every evening this week.’

‘Then we’ll see a lot of each other, won’t we?’ Robert glanced at Cassie’s face. ‘You’re not wearing make-up.’

‘No, it just slides off in all this heat.’

‘You look much prettier without it, actually.’ Robert didn’t want to tell her about his dream, but he was relieved to see she looked so natural tonight, not painted like a tart.

Also, she hadn’t mentioned Stephen once, and he began to think he had been fretting about nothing. He let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulders, and then he bent to kiss her on the mouth.