For All Our Tomorrows Read online

  ‘God, Iris, it surely can’t get any more dangerous than that.’

  She took him to her little loft above the boathouse to dry off, giving him a shot of whisky and the kind of intimate attention only she could offer, in order to reassure him that it couldn’t. But of course she lied.

  It was during another day of training a week or two later, that Chad suffered yet another mysterious accident. For some reason a rope he was climbing gave way and he fell twelve or fifteen feet. Not a great height but he landed clumsily, hit his head on a projecting pole and was knocked clean out.

  By the time he came round, the orderlies had him all tucked up in bed and nothing he said would make the dragon of a nurse allow him out of it.

  ‘You’re to be kept under observation overnight.’

  ‘Hey, but I’ve got a hot date this evening, with my gal.’

  The woman had a frosty look in her eye and the shadow of a moustache above the tightly pressed lips. Even as she apologised, Chad knew she wasn’t in the least bit sorry. ‘You aren’t going anywhere until we’re sure there are no repercussions from that blow to the head. ‘

  Chad tried to persuade her but soon realised he was wasting his time. She looked far too ferocious.

  The doctor was even less accommodating. ‘You’re staying put, mate. We’ve some big ops coming up and can’t afford to carry passengers.’ With his stocky build and substantial chest, so like the typical British bull dog, further argument seemed pointless.

  ‘Trust me to get Grandmother Grim for a nurse and Father Grizzly for a doctor,’ he complained to Barney when his buddy popped round later to see how he was.

  ‘I’ll let Bette know what’s happened, shall I?’

  ‘Tell her I’m real sorry, and I’ll see her tomorrow.’

  ‘Sure thing. Don’t you worry about her. I’ll take good care of little Bette.’

  ‘Hey, you keep your groping hands off her. She’s mine, remember?’

  Barney held up his lily white palms in a picture of innocence. ‘Ok, ok. Don’t worry. She’s safe in my hands. I’ll wear kid gloves and be the perfect gentleman. Promise.’

  Bette was instantly concerned. ‘Fallen and banged his head? Oh, no, poor Chad! It seems to be one thing after the other at the moment. I do hope he’s better soon.’

  ‘Sure he will. He’s being fussed over by a gaggle of gorgeous nurses.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Bette wasn’t sure she cared for that idea. She knew what nurses were like, chase anything in a pair of trousers. ‘We were going to the pictures to see Forever and a Day. I was so looking forward to it.’

  ‘No need for you to be disappointed, sugar. I’ll take you.’

  Bette considered this carefully for a moment. Would Chad mind if she went to the flicks with his mate? She wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t know, Chad might object.’

  ‘Naw! He’s told me to take real good care of you, and I sure will sugar, don’t you worry none. I’ll be the perfect Southern gentleman.’

  Bette started to giggle as he exaggerated his accent. Where was the harm, after all? Going out was always a thrill and demanded a great deal of preparation. She didn’t have the coupons to buy many new clothes so she’d become accomplished at making over old ones, although some were beyond redemption. What had suited a sixteen year old girl before the war did little to enhance the glamorous image of a twenty-year old.

  It had taken all her skills with a needle to fashion something decent for her date with Chad tonight, shortening skirts, lowering a boringly high neckline, but she knew that she looked good, wanting to look special for him. It would be a pity to waste all that effort.

  Besides, accepting Barney’s offer was surely better than going back home and have Sadie say that Chad had let her down yet again.

  ‘Okay, let’s go.’

  Later, when she took off her coat to reveal a flirty little blue frock which gave no indication of its age, Barney whistled softly through his teeth, proving that it had been worth all the trouble.

  ‘Boy, I wish Chad could be laid up more often.’

  Bette thoroughly enjoyed the movie, as Barney insisted she call it. She particularly enjoyed Charles Laughton as the comic butler and Buster Keaton as a crazy plumber. Yet there were some sad bits in it too. Barney had been somewhat appalled by the size of the cinema, small by his standards, and with a tin roof. Nevertheless, he had indeed behaved like the perfect gentleman, not even attempting to hold her hand.

  ‘That was a lovely evening, thanks.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. How about a little stroll before I take you home?’

  ‘I nearly am home. I live only a little further along Passage Street, beyond the ferry slip, close to the water by the pill.’ She still felt shy with him, so kept on talking as they walked. ‘Did you know that three-masted schooners used to moor alongside Berill’s Wharf here, now its used for coal, which they load straight on to the ships.’

  Bette’s experience was with local boys who idolised her for her prettiness, not with mature men, and foreigners at that. Apart from Chad, of course. But he was different. She felt safe with Chad. He was so adoring of her, so sweet and caring.

  Barney wasn’t like that at all but he was handsome and exciting, a little dangerous in a way which secretly appealed. And he was so handsome, almost continental. It momentarily crossed her mind that maybe she’d chosen the wrong GI. If she truly was a girl who liked fun, then maybe Chad would become dull and boring after a while, whereas Barney surely never would.

  ‘You fond of this place then?’

  ‘I’d leave tomorrow, given half a chance. Just because I was born in Fowey doesn’t mean I have to spend my entire life here. They say there used to be a pirate Queen who once sailed these waters. I’d like to have been her. I don’t think I was meant to sit by the hearth, as my sister does. The sea is in my blood and I want to see the world, to travel.’ She flung out her arms and laughed, as if she could indeed capture the whole world in her embrace. Barney laughed with her.

  ‘A girl after my own heart. Here, what’s this?’ They’d been strolling contentedly along but had reached an alleyway and he stopped. Still laughing, he caught hold of her hand and Bette happily allowed him to pull her along it.

  ‘It’s called an ope way, perhaps because it doesn’t go anywhere but opens out to the river.’ She shivered. ‘Come on, Barney, it’s cold down here, dark and damp. I don’t like it.’ She turned to go back to the street but his arms came about her.

  ‘Here, let me warm you up.’ He pulled her into a corner, out of the wind, took off his uniform jacket and slipped it about her shoulders, then held her close with her back pressed up against his solid chest. Bette didn’t protest because there was a cold off-shore breeze and he was warming her nicely.

  They could see nothing of the river in the blackout, with not a glimmer of a moon, even though they were both aware of vessels moored, of clandestine movement of shipping, and unseen eyes watching for danger lurking in the shadows.

  But here, cocooned in his arms, she felt quite safe from all of that, from the war, from the unseen enemy, even from the elements. His arms were tight about her waist, strong and firm, rubbing her hips and stomach gently to warm her some more. Americans, she decided, were so considerate and polite. Bette leant her head back against his shoulder and began to relax.

  ‘I do hope Chad will be better soon. I worry about him. He’s had so many problems lately.’

  ‘He’s accident prone. Always was a clumsy great oaf.’

  ‘Don’t say such things. He’s lovely and I miss him.’

  ‘Hey, you’re out with me tonight, sugar. Are you saying you’d rather be with him, than me?’

  Bette giggled. ‘Sorry. That didn’t sound very polite, did it?’

  His caresses were becoming more daring, his hands sliding up towards her breasts and Bette felt a stir of excitement in the pit of her stomach. What was she playing at, letting him cuddle her like this? What would Chad say?

  He put his
mouth to the curve of her neck and kissed her softly. Bette felt the tip of his tongue flicker out, and her eyelids fluttered closed. She’d been right. Barney was exciting and indeed very dangerous. She’d tell him so and make him take her home in a minute. Just as soon as she could catch her breath. Oh, God, she thought, tilting her head further back so she could savour the pleasure more sweetly. Give me the strength to stop him, please.

  ‘How about a proper kiss, huh? Just a little one. Surely I deserve that much at least, for giving you such a nice evening, an’ all.’

  Bette hesitated. ‘Cheeky.’

  ‘Naw. I’m a little old pussy-cat, me. Come on, one little kiss. Where’s the harm in a little old kiss between friends? We’re both adults having a good time, war or no war.’ He was turning her gently in his arms so he could kiss her cheek, her throat, her closed eyelids.

  Oh God, what was she doing?

  Bette turned her face away but knew in her heart that she was only playing hard to get. His fingers were teasing the peak of one nipple, sending wild sensations of pleasure coursing through her, her stomach all knotted up and her breathing becoming increasingly difficult. ‘You’re the kind of guy my mother is always warning me about.’

  He seemed to find this amusing and chuckled softly into her neck, nuzzling his mouth in the hollow of her throat. Bette knew she really ought to stop him before he went any further, but all she wanted was for him to get on with it and kiss her properly, on the mouth. Desire was running through her like liquid fire and for the life of her she couldn’t resist. She needed him to devour her, to make this pain go away. He was so good looking and she’d really no quarrel with his behaviour this evening. He hadn’t even done any bragging about how marvellous he was, or how much money he earned, oh but she wanted him to kiss her, she really did.

  She lifted her lips to his. ‘Just a quick one mind.’

  She didn’t mean that of course, and he knew it. His smile was one of pure triumph as he brought his mouth down to hers.

  The kiss shook her to the core, his tongue invading and exploring, nothing like the kind of kisses Chad gave her. His mouth was all enveloping, demanding and forceful, his hands everywhere, touching, caressing, teasing, insisting she ride with him on this rising tide of desire.

  He pushed her back against the wall, pressing up hard against her and, to her shame, paying no heed to the danger she might be in, Bette could do nothing but respond. Whatever it was he had awakened her, could not be stopped now. It was too exhilarating, too thrilling, too treacherously irresistible; tumultuous emotions churning inside of her which she could do nothing to quench.

  And it was all happening so fast she could scarcely think. There was an urgency about him now, that hadn’t been there before. She could feel his cold hands searching under her skirt, his fingers exploring her most intimate place which, shockingly, excited her all the more. Only when there was a piercing pain did she realise how far he’d gone. He had her pinned against the rough, wet wall, pounding into her as he grunted with pleasure.

  Bette gasped, let out a little cry, but he either didn’t hear her above the screech of the gulls and the slap of water on stone or he paid her no heed. Even when she started to sob he didn’t pause until he’d expelled himself completely and sagged against her. Maybe he believed that she cried out of emotion, or from pure pleasure. Maybe a part of her did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With the increasing number of bombing raids over Europe, the number of airmen needing to be brought to safety increased and Hugh was kept fully occupied. He’d discovered that rescue boats also came from a base near Helford, operated by men who, like himself, willingly left the relative calm of a peaceful river to face hostility and possible death in the tense operations close to the western shores of Brittany. Sometimes, the risks they took would all be for nothing, if they were unable to rendezvous with the fishing fleet or make contact with their special ‘cargo’.

  Once he saw a small boat rather like his own burst into flames having hit a mine, which made him only too aware of the risks he took on each and every trip.

  On that occasion he’d hurried over as fast as he could to search for survivors but found only one young boy, badly burned. The rest of the crew were lost and had to be reported as missing.

  Hugh was declared a hero by his comrades and he loved the kudos that gave him. But he would have been a fool not to be worried and scared for his own safety.

  It irritated him if an op was unexpectedly cancelled because an airdrop had been made instead. Somehow this left him feeling unappreciated and not properly valued.

  Hugh’s least favourite trip was to bring back a group of American airman who were travelling back from Paris. He really thought that his time could be much better employed. The fact that they claimed to be protecting a scientist carrying important papers containing vital information about some weapons factory or other, was quite by the way. He didn’t believe a word of it. Everyone knew that GIs liked to brag about their prowess.

  Just as if he would never dream of doing such a thing.

  In fact, one of the aspects of this work he found the most difficult was the need for secrecy. He’d always believed himself to be quite good at that, because of the necessity of not giving Sara any inkling of what he got up to with Iris, but somehow this was different. Hugh would love to have told her, to at least drop a hint about the dangers he was involved in week in and week out.

  What he did was undoubtedly dangerous and he wanted his wife, wanted everyone to appreciate that fact and applaud him for it. Where was the point in being a hero if nobody recognised him as such? One day, perhaps when the war was over, he could reveal everything, and how he would savour their surprise and approbation, but for now, frustratingly, he must keep it to himself.

  He took to creeping up to the children’s room when he returned from one of these missions, telling himself that he needed to check they were all right, although he’d never been a doting father and in reality he simply felt the need to talk, and who better than a child who didn’t understand a word he said?

  Drew could easily be nudged awake although Jenny would sleep on soundly. He was barely five years old and as silly and innocent as all little boys of that age, in Hugh’s opinion, but quite ready to idolise his father. Hugh told him how he was engaged in something very dangerous. How the French fishing fleet did much more than catch fish.

  ‘As does your old Dad. I’ve saved countless lives, young pilots trapped in France, agents sent out there on special missions. It’s my job to rescue them. I meet up with the French fishing fleet and bring the men safely home.’

  The little boy looked at him with round eyes. ‘Gosh, Daddy, are you a spy, like in my William book?’

  Hugh smirked and puffed out his chest a little. ‘There’s a war on, son. We all have to be brave and do our bit as best we can.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the Germans shoot you, if they caught you?’

  ‘They won’t catch me, I’m far too clever. See this telescope, I use it to keep watch at sea, and when I return from a mission I usually go out on to the headland and check no one has followed me.’

  ‘Gosh! Can I come with you next time?’

  ‘Maybe, if you’re very good. But you must never tell. This is a sworn secret between us, understand? Don’t breathe a word, not to Jenny, or to Mummy or anyone.’

  ‘Oh no, Daddy, I shan’t tell. Cut my throat if I tell a lie.’

  Hugh smiled at the childish oath, patted his son’s head fondly and told him to go back to sleep.

  He never did take the boy up on the headland. Children could be such a nuisance, a responsibility best left to women who had nothing better to do with their time.

  But often, after that, he would find Drew waiting at the top of the stairs and they would sit and talk about the dangers he’d endured that night. It felt good to express his feelings, to relate it all out loud and see his son drink in every word, hugely impressed by his father’s courage. Hugh felt quite safe i
n the knowledge that not only would the boy never tell, but that he didn’t even fully understand. He was merely a child, after all. So if Hugh couldn’t revel in his wife’s approbation, at least he could enjoy his son’s.

  And there was also Iris of course.

  Hugh liked it best when Iris came on the operation with him, though she rarely did so these days, maintaining that it would look far too suspicious for her to be spotted too often on his boat, and, in any case, she had to work in the bar. But there were occasions, usually late at night, long after the pub was closed, when she would sometimes sneak out with him, just for the hell of it, or if it was a special operation and her presence was required.

  Generally they had to navigate without lights, on this particular occasion as far as Brittany, a trip which took a couple of days, negotiating the rocks in the L’Aber Wrac’h Channel on quiet engines, a wing and a prayer. He had no idea why they were going but with Iris by his side, he didn’t care so long as they all got back safely.

  The weather was terrible with a strong wind blowing up, getting worse by the minute. As if that wasn’t bad enough, there were patrolling Heinkels overhead. An armed convoy steamed by on their north side, then half a dozen German corvettes heading directly towards them and Hugh’s heart was in his mouth, afraid that at any moment they might spot his innocuous looking yacht, which really shouldn’t be there at all. Fortunately they went on by, not even noticing him among the billowing waves, but by then he had dropped his sail and turned off the engine.

  Hugh was vastly relieved when he finally recognised an approaching trawler tacking back and forth but definitely coming in his direction. Possibly not an innocent Breton boat but more likely one operated by British Intelligence, men perhaps who had once been fishermen in civilian life, men who understood the sea and knew what they were about.

  He made fast on its starboard side and kept a sharp eye all around while a procession of people clambered on deck, helped by hands anxious for them to be swiftly dispatched so that they could all get safely on their way.