As the Crow Flies Read online

  “I don’t give a damn how she reacts,” said Guy, and once more began to kiss her neck. His hand moved to her other breast as her lips parted and their tongues touched.

  She began to feel the buttons on the back of her dress being undone, slowly at first, then with more confidence before Guy released her again. She blushed as he removed his regimental blazer and tie and threw them over the back of the sofa, and began to wonder if she shouldn’t make it clear they had already gone too far.

  When Guy started to undo the front of his shirt she panicked for a moment: things were getting a little out of control.

  Guy leaned forward and slipped the top of Becky’s dress off her shoulders. Once he had returned to kissing her again, she felt his hand trying to undo the back of her bodice.

  Becky felt she might be saved by the fact that neither of them knew where the fasteners were. However, it became abundantly clear that Guy had overcome such problems before, as he deftly undid the offending clips and hesitated only for a moment before transferring his attention to her legs. He stopped quite suddenly when he reached the top of her stockings, and looking into her eyes murmured, “I had only imagined until now what this would be like, but I had no idea you would be quite so beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” said Becky, and sat bolt upright. Guy handed over her brandy and she took another sip, wondering if it might not be wise for her to make some excuse about the coffee going cold and to slip back into the kitchen to make another pot.

  “However there’s still been a disappointment for me this evening,” he added, one hand remaining on her thigh.

  “A disappointment?” Becky put down her brandy glass. She was beginning to feel distinctly woozy.

  “Yes,” said Guy. “Your engagement ring.”

  “My engagement ring?”

  “I ordered it from Garrard’s over a month ago, and they promised it would be ready for me to collect by this evening. But only this afternoon they informed me that I wouldn’t be able to pick it up until first thing tomorrow.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Becky.

  “It does,” said Guy. “I’d wanted to slip it on your finger tonight, so I do hope you can be at the station a little earlier than we had planned. I intend to fall on one knee and present it to you.”

  Becky stood up and smiled as Guy quickly rose and took her in his arms. “I’ll always love you, you know that, don’t you?” Daphne’s dress slipped off and fell to the floor. Guy took her by the hand and she led him into the bedroom.

  He quickly pushed back the top sheet, jumped in and held up his arms. Once she had climbed in to join him Guy quickly removed the rest of her clothes and began kissing her all over her body before making love with an expertise that Becky suspected could only have come from considerable practice.

  Although the act itself was painful, Becky was surprised how quickly the promised sensation was over and she clung to Guy for what seemed an eternity. He kept repeating how much he cared for her, which made Becky feel less guilty—after all, they were engaged.

  Becky was half asleep when she thought she heard a door slam, and turned over assuming the sound must have come from the flat above them. Guy hardly stirred. Quite suddenly the bedroom door was flung open, and Daphne appeared in front of them.

  “So sorry, I didn’t realize,” she said in a whisper and closed the door quietly behind her. Becky looked across at her lover apprehensively.

  He smiled and took her in his arms. “No need to worry about Daphne. She won’t tell anyone.” He stretched out an arm and pulled her towards him.

  Waterloo Station was already crowded with men in uniforms when Becky walked onto platform one. She was a couple of minutes late, so a little surprised not to find Guy waiting for her. Then she remembered that he’d have had to go to Albemarle Street to pick up the ring.

  She checked the board: chalked up in white capital letters were the words “Southampton Boat Train, P & O to India, departure time 11:30.” Becky continued to look anxiously up and down the platform before her eyes settled on a band of helpless girls. They were huddled together under the station clock, their shrill, strained voices all talking at once of hunt balls, polo and who was coming out that season—all of them only too aware that farewells must be said at the station because it wasn’t the done thing for a girl to accompany an officer on the train to Southampton unless she was married or officially engaged. But The Times that morning would prove that she and Guy were engaged, thought Becky, so perhaps she would be invited to travel on as far as the coast…

  She checked her watch yet again: eleven twenty-one. For the first time she began to feel slightly uneasy. Then suddenly she saw him striding across the platform towards her followed by a man dragging two cases, and a porter wheeling even more luggage.

  Guy apologized, but gave no explanation for why he was so late, only ordering his batman to place his trunks on the train and wait for him. For the next few minutes they talked of nothing in particular and Becky even felt he was a little distant, but she was well aware that there were several brother officers on the platform, also bidding their farewells, some even to their wives.

  A whistle blew and Becky noticed a guard check his watch. Guy leaned forward, brushed her cheek with his lips, then suddenly turned away. She watched him as he stepped quickly onto the train, never once looking back, while all she could think of was their naked bodies lodged together in that tiny bed and Guy saying, “I’ll always love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  A final whistle blew and a green flag was waved. Becky stood quite alone. She shivered from the gust of wind that came as the engine wound its snakelike path out of the station and began its journey to Southampton. The giggling girls also departed, but in another direction, towards their hansom cabs and chauffeur-driver cars.

  Becky walked over to a booth on the corner of platform seven, purchased a copy of The Times for two pence, and checked, first quickly, then slowly, down the list of forthcoming weddings.

  From Arbuthnot to Yelland there was no mention of a Trentham, or a Salmon.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Even before the first course had been served Becky regretted accepting Charlie’s invitation to dinner at Mr. Scallini’s, the only restaurant he knew. Charlie was trying so hard to be considerate, which only made her feel more guilty.

  “I like your dress,” he said, admiring the pastel-colored frock she had borrowed from Daphne’s wardrobe.

  “Thank you.”

  A long pause followed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have thought twice before inviting you out the same day as Captain Trentham was leaving for India.”

  “Our engagement will be announced in The Times tomorrow,” she said, not looking up from her untouched bowl of soup.

  “Congratulations,” said Charlie without feeling.

  “You don’t like Guy, do you?”

  “I never was much good with officers.”

  “But your paths had crossed during the war. In fact, you knew him before I did, didn’t you?” said Becky without warning. Charlie didn’t reply, so she added, “I sensed it the first time we all had dinner together.”

  “‘Knew him’ would be an exaggeration,” said Charlie. “We served in the same regiment, but until that night we’d never eaten at the same table.”

  “But you fought in the same war.”

  “Along with four thousand other men from our regiment,” said Charlie, refusing to be drawn.

  “And he was a brave and respected officer?”

  A waiter appeared uninvited by their side. “What would you like to drink with your fish, sir?”

  “Champagne,” said Charlie. “After all, we do have something to celebrate.”

  “Do we?” said Becky, unaware that he had used the ploy simply to change the subject.

  “Our first year’s results. Or have you forgotten that Daphne’s already been paid back more than half her loan?”

  Becky managed a