Major and Mrs Blood, in Southsea for its romantic associations, had taken a suite overlooking the sea in a modern hotel.
‘I’m sorry it is cut short, my darling girl.’ Bindon Blood stretched across the table and kissed his pretty wife on her temple.
Bindon and Esther were taking tea al fresco on the balcony of their suite under a green-lined canvas awning. A constant stream of people, soaking up ozone and sun, walked the promenade below. In other circumstances, Esther Blood could not have brought herself to encircle her bridegroom’s neck in full view of anyone who chanced to look up, but this place had, for her, taken on the feeling that it was enchanted, and so rendered them invisible to any inquisitive stare. If she had had any self-doubts as to her motives in marrying the man who had courted her faithfully until she had agreed, those doubts were now settled.
Poor Otis, she believes that she has the best prize in her books and discussions.
The wedding night which, had she taken notice of her mother’s closest friend she might have expected to be rather less than romantic, had instead been a glorious revelation, nothing akin to the biological account in a textbook, nor the imagined ‘tupping’ that she and Otis had once giggled about. Perhaps it was that she could still remember overhearing her mother telling that friend, ‘Had you responded to Theo, instead of rejecting him, then your wedding night might have been as satisfactory as my own. After all, it is the most natural event in the world, is it not?’
Esther too had found that the act which her ma’s poor friend had found to be so peculiar was entirely natural and satisfactory and wonderful. Bindon was gentle and understanding, and as practised in love as one would expect a soldier to be – even though she did not want to know how that came about – and Esther was unafraid and responsive.
The consequence of so satisfactory a wedding night was that they had spent much of their time in Southsea repeating the experience. If Eros had scored a gold on Bindon Blood three years previously, he now released a full quiver of darts at Esther and scored with them all.
Each time the handsome soldier looked at his wife’s daintiness and fragility, he wanted to carry her back yet again into their rooms. I am so lucky! he told himself a hundred times.
‘Darling Ess, I can hardly bear going back to barracks. The thought of the company of the fellows… I want to be with you. I want it to be the two of us, alone in a house of our own, the key turned in the lock…’ He pulled her down on to his knee and kissed her gently. Until now, although he had never realized it, he had been a lonely man, as he had been a lonely child in his solitary-living grandfather’s house. Lonely in the midst of battalions of men, lonely in the mess, even lonely saluting an acknowledgement at the end of a solo played in public.
‘I really can’t see why the army should need a band playing in a war.’
He hugged her for her naïvety and felt himself becoming aroused at the softness and lightness of her body.
How can I go to fight a war just now?
‘I am not only a bandsman. Bandsmen are trained soldiers first and musicians second. I know how to handle firearms almost as well as I do a musical instrument.’
He felt her stiffen slightly beneath his caresses. She slipped away from him and went to lean over the balcony railings. Watching her, he again wondered whether he could ask her to come to live in this town. Until now, until he had experienced these almost overwhelming surges of passion for her, he had said that he would be happy to live in Windsor Villa. True, he did love London. Compared to the dull gentility of Southsea, and the routine of the barracks, London was a continuous adventure. But he no longer wanted that adventure, he wanted his wife close at hand. When he was in barracks he wanted to know that when he came off duty her soft comfort was awaiting him.
He went and stood beside her. The tide was receding. He liked to watch these waters which were unique with their twice-daily surge that came swirling in between the one stony beach here and another on the Isle of Wight four miles across the water. He encircled her with his arm, wondering whether she would think him lustful if he let her know that he wanted her now, only hours after an episode at lunchtime. Her very fragility and paleness made him a beast in comparison.
But by tomorrow, or the next day, who knew what orders he would be obeying, for which part of the country he might be en route?
He peered over the railings upon which were supported boxes of lushly blooming geraniums, the odour of which the two of them would probably remember with affection for the rest of their lives. ‘What’s new in the state of Denmark?’
‘Could you bear having Kitt live with us?’
‘Why do you ask? I thought that was the plan, that that was the reason for us living in your father’s house… so that you could continue to mother Kitt.’
‘I mean bring Kitt down here. Rent a house in one of those pretty little lanes…’
‘Darling Ess! Do you think it possible? I thought it essential that Kitt is not disturbed until he reaches school age.’
She turned, put her arms about his waist and pressed herself to him. ‘If he is with me, then it cannot be much of a disturbance. And think how he would thrive in this wonderful air. In any event, the disturbance to me, if I can only be with you when you have time to travel to London, is too dire to contemplate.’
This time it was the wife who led the husband back inside.