Bob Forrest-Webb - Chieftains

'I don't know if I can face the crowd for a few minutes.' He intended it as an excuse to delay her, but she had misunderstood him.

'I can't either.' Her voice had been flat, weary. 'Sometimes I think they're watching us…their eyes following us everywhere. Sometimes I think they can read my mind.' She became angry. 'I hate these evenings. I hate the dressing up, all the gold braid, the artificial camaraderie and the inane conversations…I hate anaesthetizing myself with gin and tonics so I've got the guts to dance with you all night in front of them, and the courage to let you leave me at the end.' She had turned away from him and stared across the dark lawns and rose beds. She was gripping his hand tightly.

'What can we do?' Her outburst had startled him, forcing him to acknowledge his own feelings.

'Nothing! If I'd once loved Max and now I hated him, it would be easy; I'd be strong enough to leave him. But I never loved him, so my feelings haven't changed. I've always liked him, and I still do. And you can't hurt someone you like so much.'

They avoided each other during the following weeks, until it became obvious to Max. 'You and Jane had a fight?'

'Jane? Good heavens, no!'

'We haven't seen much of you.'

Studley had lied. 'It's not been deliberate, Max. I just don't seem to have got around to socializing lately.'

'Dinner, Saturday evening then? Drinks about eight. Bozy and Felicity will be along. Jane and I thought we should invite Challace, introduce his wife to some of the other ladies of the regiment. It's never easy for a new officer's missus.'

Max, always friendly, concerned and dependable. He wasn't even built like a soldier, stocky, rounded. Gieves and Hawkes found it difficult to get a military cut to his suits. In civvies he always managed to look like a contented country vicar; perhaps he should have been, it would have suited his easy-going temperament. 'Thanks, I'll be along.'

There was another evening, later, in the mess. He and Max were alone. 'Ever think of getting married, James?'

'Thought, once or twice.' He had attempted to change the subject, but Max persisted; he had downed several drinks.

'You should look around.'

'It's hardly possible here in Germany.'

'When we're in Ireland then. Daughter of a wealthy Irish landowner.'

'For God's sake, Max…what opportunity do we get for socializing in Ireland?'

'The Queen Alexander's Nursing Corps; there are some smashers amongst the nurses. Point one out to me and I'll get Jane to invite her to dinner. Being a batchelor is no life for you, James.'

'It suits me.'

'It'll make you sour. You need a wife and a couple of kids.'

'Something I wanted to mention; the MT, sheds…there's a hold-up with…'

'Have you ever met Charlesworth's daughter? I know she's quite young, but…'

'Max!'

It had been a full year after the incident at the ball before he and Jane had become lovers. It hadn't been planned. Again, it was summer…long and dry, the grass scorching brown and the leaves becoming dusted on the trees near the roadsides. Max had suggested the trip into the mountains south of Hildesheim; it was an easy run down the autobahn. 'Find ourselves an inn and stay overnight. Get some good food and a breath of fresh mountain air. Take a rod, James, there may be a decent trout stream.'

It had been too tempting to refuse; not the thought of being with Jane, but the chance to get away from the barracks and the countryside around Bergen.

Saturday morning came and with it the unexpected arrival of a friend of Max's from the Royal Tank Regiment at Herford, passing through on his way to a NATO posting in Denmark.

Max's apologies. 'Go on ahead. I'll have lunch with him here in the mess, and we can meet this evening at Salzdetfurth. Take rooms at the gasthof, and I'll be there in time for drinks.'

'It doesn't matter, we'll wait…well travel together later. Or we can put the whole thing off until another weekend.'

Max wouldn't hear of it. 'Jane can't stand the fellow. Hates him! Didn't even like him when we were at college together. No, you two go ahead.'

They had driven down the long highway, busy with weekend traffic. The holiday season had not yet ended, and there were families heading south with camping trailers, their cars heavy with luggage. Repair works slowed the journey, funnelling the traffic across the central barriers, reducing the cruising speed. They had stopped for lunch at an autobahn restaurant south of the Hannover intersection, and been happier once they had left the main highway after Hildesheim and taken the narrower mountain roads.

They stopped near a wooded stream, a tributary of the Leine near Bockenhem, and sat beneath the rowans and beeches. There was a kingfisher hunting the shallow pools, and the cool sounds of water bubbling amongst the rocks. They were both cautious, shy, avoiding any physical contact, aware of the dangers of such a trigger. They talked a little. Jane dozed, while Studley rested with his back against the bole of an old beech and let the problems of the week slip away.

It was five by the time they reached the gasthof and booked rooms; almost seven when Max telephoned from the mess at Bergen.

'Damn him, Max. We're booked in here.' Studley could hear Jane's voice, peeved with the knowledge Max was probably only delayed because he couldn't deny his hospitality. 'James and I will have dinner, then drive back…pretty crowded but they'll have cleared…no, of course not…well, I'm not exactly delighted…Charles should have given you warning, anyway…well, yes, it would probably be better…about eleven…if we've gone out, we'll leave a message for you. Yes…I'll see you then…' She hung up and spoke to Studley. 'Charles has decided to stop over for the night, and Max is having dinner with him.'

'I suppose I'd better unbook our rooms.'

'No need. Max suggests we stay. He'll be down in the morning, about eleven.'

He knew by her tone of voice she had decided that some time in the next few hours they would make love. He was uncertain for a while if it was because of her annoyance with Max or a decision to relax the tight control she had maintained over her feelings for the past months. There had been occasions when he had considered that some time in the future this kind of situation might arise, and he had wondered how he would deal with it. The simple answer was to avoid it, but now it was happening. He didn't feel like a gentleman, but neither did he feel guilty.

'I noticed a prettier restaurant further down the road, shall we give it a try?'

'I'd like that, James.'

She had hooked her arm in his, affectionately, once they had left the gasthof to stroll through the town. The restaurant had been small, intimate, Bavarian in its conception. He couldn't remember what they had eaten, only her face; her eyes watching him across the candlelit table.

Sometime after midnight they had returned to the gasthof, its stone-flagged hallway smelling of cigar smoke and beer, echoing their footsteps. It seemed deserted.

Their two rooms were adjoining. He had opened the door to his own, and she had walked inside, there had been no suggestion, no invitations. There was moonlight in the room, and for the first time they kissed. It was gentle, tender. He could taste the perfume on her neck and shoulders as he undressed her, the light summer clothing slipping away until she was naked; there was a moment of awkwardness as he stripped, then she was in his arms, her body small, warm against his own.

She was slender, and be felt her pelvis against his thighs and let his hands trace her soft curves. The bed had been only a step away in the small room, and she had lain in the bright square of moonlight that shone through the uncurtained window.