Always I'Ll Remember by Rita Bradshaw Page B

put himself out to be even more entertaining than usual and Abby’s mood lifted. But later, when they were sitting at a table overlooking the inn’s pretty Victorian garden, all her fears flooded back. The gleaming silver teapot, lovely crockery, crisp damask tablecloth and the black and white uniforms of the maids failed to hold their normal appeal; even the buttered teacakes kept hot in silver dishes and delicious cream and jam cakes tasted like sawdust. James, however, tucked in with as much gusto as usual so she waited until he had finished his fifth teacake before she said flatly, ‘You’re going to join up, aren’t you?’
     
    ‘Sweetheart, don’t look like that.’ He reached across the table and took her hands in his. ‘We’ve got to face facts here. The call-up for men of my age is probably going to come in a month or so and I’d rather not wait till then. Call it pride or whatever, but I’d rather enlist before I’m forced to. I can’t explain it any better than that. But I don’t want to leave you. Of course I don’t want to leave you.’
     
    His hands were warm and strong. Abby looked down at their entwined fingers and found it hard to imagine his would soon be holding a gun. Nevertheless, in spite of how she was feeling, she could see he had a point even if she did think male pride was the most stupid thing on earth. James wasn’t in a reserved occupation or a member of the clergy, and he was twenty-four years old. It would be expected he would fight.
     
    ‘What if they find something wrong with you?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘Nothing serious,’ she added quickly, aware she was tempting fate. ‘Just something that prevents you being accepted.’
     
    ‘Oh, sweetheart, come on.’ He smiled slowly. ‘I don’t think that’s at all likely, do you?’
     
    No, she didn’t. She stared at him forlornly. Her James fighting people, hurting people, killing them? It was madness. He’d never hurt a fly. The only time she had ever seen another side to him, a darker side, had been when he’d taken her to meet his parents and his mother had been somewhat offhand with her. He had been angry that day and hadn’t tried to brush over the incident but had faced his mother head on, much to Abby’s embarrassment. But his mother was a snob, Abby had known that as soon as she’d set eyes on Mrs Benson, just as she’d known James’s father was lovely with no side to him at all. Mind, to give his mother her due, Mrs Benson had made an effort over the last months. It was probably partly for James’s sake and partly because Dr Benson made her so welcome, rather than that the older woman had begun to warm to her, but that didn’t matter if it made for an easy atmosphere.
     
    They said little on the way home, but when James parked the car in one of the secluded leafy lanes they had discovered, Abby found their lovemaking bitter-sweet.
     
    She returned his kisses and caresses as passionately as ever, but this time there was a desperation to their petting which had never been there before, removing all restraints. Her need of him was spiralling up through her body in shuddering gasps and she clung to him, shutting out all thoughts of what the future might hold. James was telling her she was the most beautiful girl in the world, that he loved her more than life itself - and he was going away to war. He could be injured or worse, and she wouldn’t be able to bear it. She knew she wouldn’t. What would she do if she lost him? How would she get through the rest of her life?
     
    It was James, more experienced and fearful of what the consequences might be for the woman he loved, who prevented their coming together, but he did it tenderly, making sure she realised how much she meant to him. ‘I love you more than I imagined it was possible to love someone, you know that, don’t you? And nothing will separate us, my darling. You have to believe that.’
     
    She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Abby