‘How’s Meryl?’
‘She’s all right. I took hold of George Dixon one day after school and shook him till his teeth rattled. I don’t think he’ll touch her again.’ He glanced at her. ‘Mrs Dixon is another matter, she’s a bad enemy to have.’
Hari wondered if the authorities knew of his German ancestry, if not Mrs Dixon could be a
They stopped on the top of a hill, breathless and still linked together. The sky was large above them, the soft clouds floating across the horizon like a granddad puffing on his pipe. Hari turned to look up at Michael; at the same time he bent his head and his lips were on hers. Hari drew away startled.
‘Sorry,’ Michael said, holding up his hands, ‘you look so beautiful with your face all shiny from the walk and your lovely hair like golden, red-touched clouds drifting around your perfect neck.’
Hari felt foolish yet touched, and suddenly very happy. They stared at each other for a long time and then Hari boldly held out her arms. ‘No harm in a hug, is there?’
When he was close, she could feel his arousal and suddenly her lower stomach was full of heat. She’d never felt like this before; she wanted Michael, she wanted his body but she wanted his soul as well. She drew away abruptly, this was all too sudden, too dangerous.
Aunt Jessie was awake, very much so when Hari followed Michael into the heat of the farmhouse kitchen. The tantalizing smell of roasting meat made her realize she was hungry. All her senses were alert, on guard so to speak, she thought wryly. Aunt Jessie looked at them suspiciously.
‘When did you arrive, Hari?’ She was almost stern.
‘Not long ago.’ Hari didn’t understand why she lied. Yes she did—Aunt Jessie wouldn’t approve of a dalliance between her and Michael. Only it wouldn’t be a dalliance, it would be much, much more than that. It was impossible.
Michael went out to do his work and Hari sat uncomfortably in the kitchen watching Jessie peel vegetables. ‘Can I help?’ she asked hesitantly. Jessie shook her head.
‘No. Thanks. I’m used to doing things my own way.’ She glanced at Hari’s white hands and, unaccountably, Hari felt ashamed they were not calloused or stained yellow as Kate’s were.
‘I’m working on communications,’ she said and it sounded like an excuse though why she needed to excuse herself to anyone, least of all Jessie, defeated her. It was a relief when Meryl came bounding into the house, her shoes clattering on the wooden floor of the hall heralding her arrival as she pushed open the door and flung herself into Hari’s arms.
‘You’ve got a car!’ she said, hugging Hari frantically. ‘I didn’t know you learned to drive.’
‘I’m a quick learner.’ Hari kissed her sister’s soft cheek. ‘How’s that horrible Georgie Porgie treating you now Michael’s had a word?’
‘You’ve seen Michael?’ Meryl’s tone was guarded.
‘Briefly. When I arrived he opened the gate for me then he went off to do some work on the farm.’
Meryl relaxed. ‘Mending fences and such I suppose.’ Meryl sounded knowing though she had no idea what he was doing.
‘Go find him, Meryl love,’ Jessie said. ‘Tell him dinner will be in half an hour, make sure he washes his hands—look out for him as you always do.’ She glanced at Hari. ‘Your sister is so good with Michael, keeps him in his place she does.’ Her tone implied that Hari might be well advised to do the same.
The silence lengthened in the kitchen and then Jessie took a cloth out of a drawer and spread it like a billowing sail over the table.
‘She thinks he’s the sun, the moon and the stars.’ She looked Hari in the eye. ‘We must try not to upset her, the poor child’s had enough upset in her life to last for a very long time.’
Hari was being warned off Michael and she knew it.
‘But Meryl is only fourteen,’ she said, ‘she’ll have crushes many times before she finds the real one.’
Jessie sniffed. ‘She’s nearer fifteen now—keep up girl. And “crushes”, is that what they call it now? Well, let me tell you, Meryl is growing up fast, anyone would in this awful war. And remember, Michael is not yet eighteen, about the same age as you are but not that much older than your sister.’
Hari was silent, digesting what Jessie was saying to her. Jessie was implying that love between Meryl and Michael was not as impossible as it seemed. And yet Hari had been in Michael’s arms, felt the heat of his body heat her own. It wasn’t just lust, she knew it wasn’t.
‘What’s really wrong, Jessie?’ Directness was important.
‘I don’t want silly girls disturbing my Michael. He’s safe here on the farm with me. And with Meryl,’ she added.
‘How could I be a danger to him?’
‘I don’t want him leaving the farm, going into Swansea. He’d be noticed there, some busybody would pick up on his accent.’ She stopped abruptly.
‘Jessie, the authorities don’t know Michael is German—is that it?’
‘Just mind your own business Miss Jones, go home and leave us in peace. You know Meryl is safe down here with me, just go away, forget Michael. He’s not for you—do you understand?’ Jessie’s tone was fierce. Hari faced her.
‘That’s not for you to decide, is it?’
‘So you do have a fancy for him then?’ It was a direct challenge.
‘I don’t know what I feel, I hardly know Michael. You’re making a fuss about nothing.’
‘Am I?’ Jessie didn’t look at her. ‘Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it?’
Later, dusk was closing in over the fields when Hari walked with Meryl at her side towards the jeep. Hari hugged her, realizing Jessie was right, Meryl was filling out, growing up.
‘Bye, little sis. Be good, be careful… be safe.’ She climbed in the jeep and drove away. In the mirror she could see Meryl’s face was just a pale unfamiliar blur in the growing darkness. Suddenly she was painfully, very painfully sad.
Fourteen
The house was plain, set back from the road, away from the other small cottages. Kate took a deep breath and glanced at Doreen. ‘This is it then?’
Doreen nodded. ‘Moira knows we’re coming, she’ll be ready—it won’t take long.’
Moira was friendly. She had a cup of tea ready and a few dry-looking biscuits on a plate, spaced out to look more plentiful and resting on a neat doily. A good try considering it was wartime.
Kate’s mouth was dry and her stomach was bunched up into a tight ball as if to protect the barely formed child within her. Doreen spoke.
‘This is a serious thing, mind; slipping out a baby isn’t a picnic. I just want you to know that.’ She sighed. ‘But a lot of girls are coming to me now so you’re not alone. I’m a good midwife, I’m clean as I can be and I’ll look after you when it’s over. Your chap dead is he?’
Kate nodded. ‘I think so, he’s been reported missing, that’s all I really know.’
‘Do you care about him?’
Kate nodded miserably. She just wanted to get on with it before she screamed out her fear and revulsion at what she was about to do. She was from good Irish stock and her mammy would be horrified if she knew what Kate was doing. But then she would be equally horrified to learn Kate was having a baby in the first place.
Moira took her cup away and led the way into a little lean-to at the back of the house. There was what looked like a doctor’s examination table, long and narrow and spread with a white sheet that was spotlessly clean. A metal bowl stood at the side and a wicked-looking scalpel that glinted in the overhead gas light.
Kate got on to the table and lay back. Moira lifted her skirt and pressed her knees apart. ‘You’ll have to take your underwear off, you silly girl.’
Kate sat bolt upright. ‘I can’t go on with it.’ She scrambled down from the table, pulling her skirt into place. ‘I’m sorry to waste your time. I’ll pay you, of course.’
Moira sighed and shook her head. ‘No need, I was half expecting this. You’re just not the sort. The Good Lord
