It was the next evening, as Constance stepped down from the bus, that she saw Henry. He was leaning against the rails of the pier waiting for her. She hesitated. It was all well and good saying she didn’t want to see him when she was tucked away upstairs at home, but she could hardly avoid him now. Besides, he’d already seen her. Despite this, she turned as though to cross the road to Pier View House, and heard him call her name. He reached her before she could make her mind up as to what she should do.
‘Connie, please talk to me.’
Constance risked a look up at him and saw hurt and confusion etched into the face she knew by heart. ‘You played me for a fool, Henry Johnson,’ she managed to say, and as she moved away, he grabbed hold of her arm.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please just talk to me, explain why you’re so mad.’
‘I saw you at Puckpool last Thursday night with that WRN, and you can let go of my arm thank you very much.’
He dropped his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I just… I, well… I just don’t understand,’ he said, shaking his head.
It was evident he was telling the truth, about that at least, Constance thought. ‘Blonde, pretty, arm linked through yours,’ she spat wanting him to own up.
To her amazement, he threw his head back and laughed.
‘It’s not funny, Henry, I trusted you.’ Anger replaced the hurt of the last week.
‘I know, but it kinda is funny, Connie. That WRN is Helen Kent. She’s married to my pal, Don and believe me she is mad about him. Connie, I’ve only got eyes for you, and it's driven me mad this week not seeing you.’
Constance swallowed hard. Perhaps she’d seen what she wanted to see that evening at the camp, her imagination running wild thanks to Evelyn’s words of advice and not having seen Henry. ‘I hadn’t seen you in days and when I saw you with her I thought—’
‘Something is happening. I can’t talk about it Connie. I couldn’t get away.’
Constance sniffled. She’d got herself into a terrible state over nothing. ‘I’m so sorry Henry.’
‘Hey, come here.’ He opened his arms, and she fell into them.
He stroked her hair, and she breathed in the smell of him, she felt the roughness of his shirt against her cheek. She didn’t want him ever to let her go.
‘I love you, Constance Downer.’
‘I love you too.’ She had from the first moment she’d seen him.
Chapter 19
‘Henry I can’t keep up!’ Constance laughed, feeling the wind whip her hair back. She’d lose her scarf at this rate, she thought. The skirt of her dress ballooned out as she pedalled as fast as she could to catch him up down the empty lane. They were nearly at their destination, the ruins of Quarr Abbey. The spiky blackthorn hedgerows with their smattering of dainty white blossoms loomed up on either side of them. They were just high enough to hide the patchwork of green fields she knew lay on the other side. Above her head, the blue sky was clear save for the puffballs of white skimming their way across it.
‘I gave you an advantage. I’ve got a dodgy leg,’ Henry called back over his shoulder, kicking his leg out to demonstrate. It wasn’t quite true, time was a great healer and the passing month had seen his limp become virtually imperceptible. The warm weather May had brought helped the dull ache he had been plagued with while it healed too. He slowed his bicycle to a stop and Constance puffing now, caught up to him. She pushed her hair back as she turned her face to the sun, and caught her breath.
It was a glorious Sunday afternoon, but then again every day had been glorious since she’d met Henry. It was three whole months since she’d first laid eyes on him at the folly. Since that evening the war had faded into the background for Constance, her mind preoccupied with the business of falling properly in love.
Today, he’d swung a couple of hours off duty, and Constance had arranged to meet him at Puckpool. They’d bypassed the marching that was in progress on the quarterdeck and crept past the café area to the back of the office building where she’d encountered the WRNS, when she’d been looking for Henry. The thought of how she’d misread the situation still made her feel ashamed, and she’d made a silent vow from that point on to always have faith in him. She never wanted to feel as miserable as she’d felt in those days when she’d refused to see him, ever again.
The reason for their subterfuge was that behind the building was where the women who were beavering away in the office inside left their bicycles. The bikes had been borrowed without permission with Henry reasoning the girls wouldn’t miss them until their shift was finished at six o’clock that evening. Where was the harm? He’d said the same thing for the past six Sundays.
Now, in the middle of the lane, Henry cupped her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She didn’t want him to pull away; she wanted to stay there locked in that instance forever. He did, however, pull away and he gazed down at her, a solemn expression on his face. ‘I love you Constance Downer, and I can’t wait to marry you.’ It was said with just as much conviction as it had been the first time he had announced that one day when the war was finished,
