Teddy and Bobbie’s Saturday-night mystery tour had begun with a train journey to Northgate. They’d walked out of the station into an impressive square lined with elegant clothes and jewellery shops then strolled hand in hand along a broad, steeply sloping street, past an imposing town hall to the Spa Ballroom, a large Victorian dance hall advertising twice-weekly events on a poster beside the door. There was a wide entrance where groups of young men stood and smoked, mostly in uniform and all eager to eye up the girls who ran in skittish groups up the marble stairs.
Teddy and Bobbie followed a group of such girls into a glass atrium decorated with palm trees in ornate glazed pots. There was a ticket office to one side and a cloakroom to the other. ‘Don’t be long,’ he told her as he queued to buy tickets and she went to take off her black satin cape and powder her nose.
She reappeared in her emerald-green chiffon dress with its full skirt and an off-the-shoulder neckline. Bobbie had dithered for a long time over the dress: was it too formal for wherever it was that Teddy was taking her? But then he’d promised somewhere ‘much nicer’ than the dingy Anchor. Was it too revealing? She’d studied her reflection in the full-length mirror in Angela’s room (what would Angela’s opinion have been?) then hurried back to her own room and changed several times before deciding on the green dress after all. Now, emerging from the cloakroom and seeing Teddy’s glance of approval, she was glad she had.
‘Do you hear that?’ Teddy nodded his head in the direction of the music floating up from a room below. He led Bobbie towards a wrought-iron balcony, looking suave and at ease in a dark blue suit teamed with a white shirt and grey silk tie. ‘That’s a Glenn Miller number.’
Bobbie gazed down on a crowded dance floor where sailors on leave held their sweethearts close for a romantic Viennese waltz and eager Tommies leaned in to whisper sweet nothings in the ears of girls they’d only just met. She made out a small stage at the far end of the room where musicians in dinner jackets played piano, violin, drums and saxophone. There was a bar serving drinks in a side room off to the left.
‘Let’s dance.’ Teddy led the way down curving, pink marble stairs.
Bobbie followed in high spirits. It was ages since she’d been to a proper dance; not since she’d left home, in fact. She was immediately caught up in the lively atmosphere and had a sudden giddy sensation when Teddy took hold of her around the waist then steered her on to the floor. She soon found that he was an expert dancer, able to guide her through the crowd and move with a smooth, fluid rhythm that made him stand out from other, less skilled hoofers.
‘This is better than the Anchor, I take it?’ He whirled her gracefully, making her skirt flare out behind.
‘Much better.’ Their cheeks were so close that they almost touched and his hand on her back drew her firmly in.
Bobbie Fraser really was a slip of a girl, Teddy thought as he held her tight. He usually preferred them taller and more rounded. She was pretty, though, with a slightly turned-up nose and pointed chin that gave her an elfin look. They were attracting plenty of gratifying attention from onlookers: unshowy wallflowers in faded pink dresses and shy corporals with unflattering haircuts standing awkwardly at the side of the room. ‘Where did you learn to trip the light fantastic?’ he asked Bobbie as the waltz drew to a close.
There was a smattering of applause for the musicians. ‘At school. We had a dance teacher called Miss McKinley. It was a girls’ school so my partner was always a tall girl called Peggy Irvine. Peggy was with the WAAFs as a wireless operator the last I heard.’ Teddy’s amused smile made Bobbie blush. ‘Why, what did I say?’
‘Nothing.’ He pinched her waist. A slip of a girl and so naive. ‘What slogan do they put on the recruitment posters? “Serve in the WAAF with the men who fly.” You can take that invitation in more ways than one!’ Teddy winked then listened to the start of the next number: a foxtrot this time.
‘“Serve” … Oh yes, I see. Oh no, Peggy’s not like that.’
‘Don’t you believe it; everyone’s like that in this day and age. And why not?’ Teddy took advantage of the fact that the more complicated dance had put off many couples, leaving more space on the floor. ‘Everyone is much more free and easy, don’t you find?’
Bobbie kept up with his nimble footwork: slow-quick-quick turns as their feet skimmed the floor. ‘Some people are,’ she conceded. She really must try to sound more worldly. ‘And you’re right: why not? None of us knows where we’ll be or what we’ll be doing this time next month; or even if we’ll still be anywhere at all.’
‘Quite.’ There was always something about Bobbie that amused Teddy; at the moment it was the blindingly obvious effort she was making to behave more like Angela. ‘Your Miss McKinley certainly succeeded in teaching you the ropes.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ Bobbie smiled prettily as the band upped the tempo and they danced on.
‘Anyway, I hope your Peggy is living for the moment with the men who fly. Most of the WAAF girls I’ve come across do.’
‘Don’t we all?’ she replied gallantly.
‘We do,’ Teddy agreed as they went on skipping and spinning across the polished floor. ‘After this dance we’ll stop and have a drink. What do you say?’
Jean and Douglas had ended up in the Spa Ballroom after a leisurely stroll through the quiet streets of Low Northgate, up the hill towards the dance hall, drawn there by the faint strains of music drifting out on to the pavement.
‘Shall we go inside for a drink?’ Douglas had suggested. ‘You won’t mind just sitting and watching? I’m not up to dancing, I’m afraid.’
‘A drink would be nice.’ Jean had enjoyed the drive over the moors. They’d witnessed a spectacular deep red sunset above a band of dark blue clouds then watched the light fade from the wild landscape – a sight that had convinced Douglas and Jean that war couldn’t destroy nature and that the old ways of life would survive all conflicts. Sheep would always graze amongst the heather. Red kites would continue to soar.
Jean had found Douglas a considerate and interesting companion as usual. She learned that his father was a tea merchant who had tried to dissuade his young son from his bookish ways by encouraging him to take up rugby and cricket, without much effect. ‘I preferred my geometry theorems and my kings and queens of England,’ Douglas had confessed. Jean in turn had shared her love of the Brontë sisters. ‘Jane Eyre especially. I first read that book when I was eleven and I was convinced that Charlotte Brontë had written it about me!’
So they discovered more areas of common interest and both found themselves content to let the evening drift on without fixing on a particular plan.
‘A drink it is.’ Douglas offered Jean his arm and they went into the Spa Ballroom building, attracted by a familiar melody that had been played to death on the wireless all summer long.
Jean put a name to the tune. ‘“That Old Black Magic”. Johnny Mercer wrote the lyrics to this one.’
Douglas paid for entrance tickets and they went on down the stairs. He was proud to walk with Jean, who looked cool and sophisticated in a short-sleeved dark blue dress, with her fair hair pinned up to show her beautiful long neck. ‘Have you heard Frank Sinatra sing it? I think I prefer that to the Bing Crosby version.’
‘I like both.’
They skirted the dance floor and made straight for the bar where they soon found empty stools and ordered drinks.
‘Good; it’s less hectic in here.’ Douglas was relieved to sit down in the relative quiet of the bar. They could glimpse the dancers through the open doorway, but the noise didn’t interfere with their conversation. ‘You don’t mind?’ he checked with Jean again.
‘No. I’d rather talk than dance. If you must know, I have two left feet.’
‘I don’t believe that. You’re probably saying it to make me feel better.’
‘It’s true. I missed out learning when I was at school – there was too much to do at home, helping Mother look after my father.’ Jean spoke openly and without bitterness. ‘Dad never worked again after his fishing boat was lost. He was left with bad injuries to his hand and his back so we had to do everything for him; Mother took the brunt of it, of course.’ The brunt had included endless carping criticism and volleys of harsh insults from her disabled father; a burden much harder for Jean’s mother to bear than the physical care. The atmosphere in the house as Jean grew up had been unbearably tense; her only escape the public library in Highcliff. ‘It’s a funny thing,’ she mused. ‘Learning to fly and joining the ATA has given me a freedom I never expected to have. If it hadn’t been for the war, I’d still be living at home.’
‘It’s a case of every cloud …’
‘… has a silver lining. From a selfish point of view; yes.’
‘That doesn’t sound selfish to me.’ Moved by her story, Douglas longed to tell her how much he admired her but he didn’t want to break her thread.
‘Truly? Thank you. It sounds strange again when I say that I never had much expectation that I’d be happy in life but now I find that I am.’
‘Good for you. Why shouldn’t you be happy?’
Jean dug deep for her answer. ‘Maybe I felt I didn’t deserve to be. It’s hard to explain. Or perhaps it was that I expected to follow in my mother’s footsteps. I hardly ever saw her happy, except on rare occasions when she and I escaped from the house to walk on the beach. I remember the crunch of the pebbles under our feet and the feel of cold sea spray on our faces. Mother wouldn’t talk much but a smile would creep across her face and she would hold my hand. We’d search for fossils at the foot of the cliffs.’
‘Everyone deserves to be happy.’ Douglas swirled the beer in his glass, only half-believing his own observation. A sailor came up to the crowded bar and accidentally jostled Douglas’s elbow, making him spill some of the glass’s contents on to the floor.
‘Sorry, pal,’ the sailor said. He glanced from grey-haired Douglas to the blonde beauty next to him and back again with an expression of mild surprise.
‘No harm done,’ Douglas muttered back.
The music next door changed from a foxtrot to a jazzier, louder number.
‘“Chattanooga Choo Choo”,’ Jean remarked over the increasing din of saxophone and drums.
Douglas didn’t seem to hear her. Jean’s back was to the door and his attention had been stolen by a glimpse of familiar figures amongst the dancers. ‘I must be seeing things,’ he muttered under his breath.
Jean turned to look but all she saw was a whirl of brightly coloured dresses and dark uniforms.
‘I thought I glimpsed Teddy Simpson dancing with Bobbie Fraser,’ Douglas explained. ‘But I can’t have done, can I?’
‘Possibly, yes.’ Jean had noticed something between the pair at Bobbie’s birthday party but she’d imagined that any serious attraction must be on Bobbie’s side since, according to gossip amongst the girls in the ops room, Teddy had already built a reputation as a ladies’ man.
‘How could they have got here?’
‘By train, I suppose.’
‘But surely Bobbie’s not his type …’
All doubt was squashed when the couple in question appeared in the doorway. Teddy’s arm was around Bobbie’s waist as he led her into the bar.
‘Well, look who it isn’t!’ Teddy exclaimed when he spotted Douglas and Jean. ‘Fancy seeing you two here.’
Douglas was immediately nettled by the sly, knowing look that Teddy exchanged with Bobbie but he hid his reaction behind a typically courteous gesture. ‘Bobbie, you look out of breath. Here, have my seat, let me buy you a drink. And Teddy, what’ll you have?’
The two men turned towards the bar while Bobbie perched on the stool next to Jean’s. ‘I didn’t spot you on the dance floor,’ she began. Then, with an embarrassed glance at Douglas’s back view, ‘Oh no, of course not.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘For a second back there, I thought Douglas was cross with me. He gave me what I call his sour-lemon look.’
‘No. He was surprised, that’s all.’ Jean spoke guardedly while Bobbie rattled on.
‘No more than I was when I found out where Teddy was bringing me. You could have knocked me down with a feather. It’s très chic here: all the palm trees and ornamental tiles and so on. Northgate is a genteel town, by all accounts. It’s the first time I’ve been here. Jean, what are you drinking? Douglas, did you know that Jean’s glass is empty? She needs a refill.’
‘Coming up,’ Douglas called as Teddy handed cocktails to the girls then stood between them. ‘There’s nothing to beat a spot of ballroom dancing. What’s your favourite dance, Jean? Mine’s the quickstep.’
‘I don’t usually dance,’ Jean replied quietly.
‘Then it’s high time you did.’ Teddy turned to Douglas and Bobbie. ‘You two won’t mind if Jean and I dance the next dance, will you?’
‘No, thank you.’ Jean cut in before either could shape a reply. ‘I’m quite happy where I am.’
‘Please yourself.’ Teddy shrugged and turned away. Few women resisted his charms but it seemed Jean was one of them. ‘I’m glad we bumped into you, Douglas; it saves Bobbie and me from having to get the train back to Rixley.’
Bobbie raised her eyebrows at Jean and grimaced at Teddy’s lack of consideration. Sorry! she mouthed.
At first Douglas was too taken aback to reply.
‘You’re in your jalopy, I take it?’ Teddy went on. ‘There’s room in the back for a pair of tiddlers. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Not at all,’ Douglas replied through gritted teeth. He felt the evening slip away from him but decency prevented him from refusing the request.
‘Good chap.’ Teddy hurriedly finished his drink then grabbed Bobbie’s hand to drag her back towards the dance hall. ‘Give us a shout when you’re ready to leave,’ he told Jean over his shoulder.
Douglas shook his head with undisguised contempt. ‘What on earth does Bobbie see in him?’
‘Oh, Teddy has made his mark amongst the Rixley girls. Perhaps she’s flattered.’ Jean was sorry she hadn’t had a chance to exchange many words with Bobbie, who had seemed uncomfortable during the chance meeting. Her cheeks had been flushed, her eyes downcast and she’d shown none of her trademark cheery independence.
‘It’s up to her, I suppose. I’m sorry, Jean; now we’re tied to staying here until they’re ready to leave.’
‘Don’t be sorry. It was nice of you to agree.’ Jean knew Douglas well enough to see that it had been an effort to stay civil. There had been the flicker of a frown across his brow, a flash of anger in his hazel eyes.
‘I don’t know about you but I was ready for another quiet stroll before the drive home.’
She leaned over and put a hand over his. ‘Some other time,’ she assured him as the band struck up a fresh number and a new influx of thirsty dancers crowded into the bar.
‘Home, James, and don’t spare the horses!’ Teddy called from the back seat of Douglas’s Ford. His knees were jammed against the back of the passenger seat and he sat with his arm around Bobbie’s shoulder. His fingers drummed gently against the smooth, shiny fabric of her black evening cape.
Jean felt the pressure of Teddy’s knees in her back. She saw how hard Douglas gripped the wheel as he turned on the engine. The sooner they reached home the better, she thought.
The best way to get through the journey was to let Teddy prattle on. He gave his opinion on the dance band – ‘A decent pianist but the saxophonist left a lot to be desired’ – and the town of Northgate – ‘Not a patch on Cheltenham or Leamington Spa’ – before leaning forward to ask Douglas about various members of the Rixley flying crew.
‘Off the record, how do you and Hilary rate Mary Holland?’ he wanted to know. ‘Would you let her loose on anything bigger than a Class Two, for instance?’
‘Third officers are qualified to fly single-engine light aircraft. That includes plenty of Class Twos.’ Douglas’s bland response hardly answered the question but Teddy steamed on regardless.
‘What’s happened to Angela, by the way? Is she in trouble over last week’s dip in the briny?’
‘No. Why should she be?’ Bobbie replied in a defensive tone.
Teddy leaned back and casually slid his arm around her shoulder again. ‘I haven’t seen her around recently, that’s all. I heard a rumour that she’d been hauled over the coals for losing the brand-new Spit and taken off flying duties until further notice.’
‘That’s simply not true.’ Bobbie was keen to clear this up. ‘Angela went home on leave. She’ll report for duty first thing on Monday morning as per usual.’
‘Well, I hope she’s having a nice time, then.’ Teddy probed for more information. ‘Will Lionel be spending the weekend with her?’
‘Not this time. He’s stuck in the Dodecanese with his convoy.’ Drink and light-headedness made Bobbie’s tongue run away with her. ‘It’s hard for poor Angela, having a fiancé involved in the thick of things. Lionel arrived soon after the Germans took Kos and I don’t know how many Allied ships were lost.’
‘A fiancé, you say?’ Douglas didn’t try to hide his surprise. ‘Did you know about an engagement, Jean?’
‘Oh, good Lord above!’ Too late, Bobbie realized her mistake. ‘I wasn’t supposed to let the cat out of the bag. I promised Angela.’
Jean looked closely at Douglas, whose lips were pressed firmly together. ‘If Angela doesn’t want it to be common knowledge then we’ll keep this between the four of us,’ she said.
‘But you’re sure, Bobbie?’ Teddy wouldn’t let it drop. ‘Angela and Lionel are definitely engaged?’
‘Please don’t say anything.’ She grasped his hand.
‘All right, I promise,’ he muttered. He felt unaccountably peeved, like a child in a sweet shop who has been offered a sugary treat, only to have it snatched away. Angela hadn’t behaved like an engaged woman at Bobbie’s party; far from it. She’d been all over him after the dancing had stopped and they’d gone outside into the pub yard. It had led Teddy to believe that he was in with a real chance.
So he sat in silence digesting the news while Douglas drove the moor road. Teddy leaned back and jiggled his foot against the seat in front. Was it still worth taking a serious shot at glamour-girl Angela? Or should he look elsewhere? Here was Bobbie, for instance – sitting beside him with tears in her eyes for having broken her promise to her best friend. Sweet, pretty, gullible Bobbie: sharp as a tack when it came to anything aeronautical but clueless as far as men were concerned. He only had to go about it the right way: continuing to tease, flirt and flatter. But would it be a big enough challenge? That was the question occupying Teddy as they arrived in Rixley and Douglas turned in through the back gates of Burton Grange.
A nightcap in the deserted lounge rounded off the evening for Jean and Douglas. George, the civilian barman, was about to shut up shop as they arrived but was happy to serve them before he left.
‘Your usual whisky?’ George asked Douglas, who nodded.
‘Make that two,’ Jean decided. It felt good to be back on familiar territory, especially after the awkward silences that had punctuated the drive home.
George poured their drinks then wished them a polite goodnight.
‘I’ve been thinking a good deal about what you said earlier – about not feeling that you deserved to be happy,’ Douglas began as he and Jean sat close to the dying fire. ‘You don’t mind me being serious? Stop me if you do.’
‘I don’t mind,’ she assured him. She’d had more than enough of Teddy’s flippancy on the drive home.
‘It wasn’t like that for me. I’m afraid I watched too many Hollywood films in my youth; the type where boy meets girl, they overcome a few obstacles then live happily ever after. So when I reached the age you are now I was fully expecting that to happen to me.’
‘And didn’t it?’ Jean was curious. With his square, symmetrical features and high forehead, Douglas was still a handsome man and must have had plenty of romantic opportunities when he was younger.
He stared thoughtfully at the golden liquid in his glass. ‘It could have on a couple of occasions,’ he began cautiously, ‘but at twenty-odd I wasn’t very good at making the right moves.’
‘You were shy?’ Jean guessed.
‘That’s a nice way of putting it. A more honest assessment is that I was too self-absorbed, too worried about the impression I made. It must have come across as arrogance – I was told so on more than one occasion. So, in spite of expectations, I never got the girl and lived happily ever after.’
‘But surely it’s not too late.’ The warm glow from the dying fire and the low lighting brought down Jean’s guard. ‘It’s never too late.’
Douglas ducked his head and smiled. ‘I’d like to believe you.’ When he looked up he saw that she was gazing intently at him, as if working out the way his mind worked. ‘I’m sorry that our evening together got ruined.’
‘Don’t apologize. Nothing was ruined.’
The room was full of flickering shadows. The curtains were open, the sky was thick black and a bright moon shone in. Jean’s calm presence cast its spell. Without any words spoken, they rose from their seats and embraced. He held her close, felt her softness, saw her features blur as they kissed.
She sank against him. His arms were strong. She hadn’t expected to feel so safe.
‘Let me put in a good word on your behalf,’ Teddy told Bobbie as they strolled together on the edge of Burton Wood. They’d parted from Douglas and Jean as soon as Douglas had parked his car in the mews yard at the Grange. The walk in the wood had been Teddy’s idea once the others were out of earshot.
Bobbie had just admitted her frustration at still falling short of the flying hours she needed to make first officer. She greeted Teddy’s offer with a shake of the head. ‘I don’t need your help, thanks.’
‘Why not? I could have a chat with Douglas – get him to send you on a couple of long trips – to France or Belgium, perhaps. You’d clock up the hours in no time.’
‘Thanks, but no,’ she said again. ‘I don’t want any special favours. Anyway, Douglas wouldn’t bend the rules for my sake or anyone else’s.’
‘You’re right there; he’s far too strait-laced.’ Teddy tempered his insult for Bobbie’s benefit. Po-faced bastard was more like it. All that fuss about a few measly gallons of petrol for the Royal Enfield. And the look on Douglas’s face when Teddy had had the brass neck to cadge a lift home! Well, that had been priceless. ‘Anyway, you’ll get your promotion soon enough then we’ll go out and celebrate.’
‘I’d like that.’ Bobbie’s feelings towards Teddy swung wildly. She’d said yes with alacrity to walking with him to round off the evening and she loved the feel of her hand in his and of his arm around her shoulder. Dancing with him had been thrilling too. Besides, the memory of their kiss in the bed and breakfast at Harkness was still very much alive. But Teddy’s lack of respect towards Douglas and his senior RAF officers was troubling, as was the way he seemed to blow hot and cold towards her. ‘Can I be honest with you?’ she said, plucking up courage as they turned back towards the house.
‘Why not? Fire away.’
‘I’ve had a thoroughly nice time tonight, but the fact is I’ve been advised not to take you too seriously.’
‘Who by? I bet it was Angela.’
‘Never you mind. But it does make me wonder about your intentions, Teddy.’
‘My intentions?’ he spluttered, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘Are we in a play by Oscar Wilde by any chance? “What are your intentions regarding my niece, Flight Lieutenant Simpson?” Am I about to be hit over the head with a handbag?’
‘Don’t!’ Bobbie broke free and walked more quickly down the path towards the stable block at the Grange.
Teddy ran to catch up. Here was the challenge he needed after all. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he pleaded. ‘Slow down, Bobbie, please!’
‘No, not if you’re going to make fun of me.’ She stopped under the clock tower and turned to confront him. ‘The question is: can I trust you? And don’t you dare laugh at me again.’
Teddy spread his hands, palms upwards, and his face grew serious. ‘When have I ever given you a reason not to trust me? Go ahead, tell me.’
Bobbie tried to clear her head. She’d drunk too much again and it had made her gauche and confused. ‘It’s just a feeling. I can never tell whether or not you mean what you say.’
Teddy took hold of her by both arms. ‘That’s just me. It’s the way I am with everyone. I can’t help it.’
‘But why?’ His grip was tight as she tried to pull free.
‘I haven’t a clue. Dr Freud would have a theory about it, I suppose. I probably joke and make light of things because I’m running away from some deep trouble in my childhood; isn’t that what the psychiatrists say?’
Bobbie stopped struggling. ‘What trouble?’
Teddy’s brow was furrowed and he took a long time to answer. ‘My father ran off when I was four and a half. After that I lived pretty much on the breadline with my mother and grandfather. That’s probably reason enough.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be; either you sink under it or you come back fighting. I chose to claw my way out.’ None of this was a lie, Teddy reminded himself. His motive for telling Bobbie at this point might be called into question, but it seemed to be having the desired effect.
‘I see.’ She stood motionless, gazing up at him.
‘Do you?’ he murmured, placing one hand gently on the back of her head. ‘All this larking around; it’s a big front to help me get by. But deep down it’s not really what makes me tick.’
Bobbie nodded slowly. As her head tilted back, Teddy’s tentative kiss took her breath away.
The kiss deepened into a close embrace. He felt her return the increasing pressure of his lips and when they finally broke apart her eyes glistened with tears and a shiver ran through her.
‘Are you feeling chilly?’ Teddy took her hand and quickly led her up some stone steps to a large loft where grooms and coachmen had once slept. The bare, basic room ran the length of one side of the stable yard and in the gloom it was only possible to make out open rafters and a series of skylights letting in shafts of moonlight. Teddy, however, had been here before.
‘There’s a stove in the corner.’ He crouched to open the door and took out a lighter. ‘I come here once in a while for some peace and quiet.’
The lighter flared and Bobbie made out disused furniture stacked against a wall: a table, a few armchairs, an old mattress and a broken glass-fronted cabinet. She heard the wood in the stove crackle and catch light.
‘Come closer,’ Teddy invited. He stretched out his hand.
Bobbie crouched beside him and leaned against him. The flames flared blue and yellow and then orange. ‘I never knew this room was here,’ she whispered.
‘Let it be our secret.’ Drawing a silver hip flask from his pocket, he unscrewed the top and offered her a drink. ‘To warm you up.’
Bobbie took the flask and drank without thinking. The burn in her throat made her splutter.
‘More,’ Teddy encouraged, watching her as she drank again. ‘There, that’s better. Wait here; I’ll drag some chairs across.’
Bobbie tried to stand up but she was suddenly unsteady on her feet.
Teddy reached out to prop her up. ‘Wait; I’ve had a better idea.’ Instead of bringing chairs, he dragged the old mattress across the floor then set it down in front of the stove.
Bobbie heard the sound of something being dragged. There was a flop and a thud as the mattress landed.
‘Sit,’ he said.
Her legs gave way and she sank to her knees. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ The warmth of the fire felt comforting and the flutter of doubt in her stomach settled. ‘I’m sorry … you must think …’
‘I don’t think anything.’ Teddy knelt beside her. ‘Come here.’ He held his arms wide open and waited for her to snuggle close.
Closing her eyes, Bobbie breathed in the smell of his cologne and felt the rise and fall of his chest.
‘Another?’ He offered her the flask again.
‘No.’ Nothing in the room would stay still. Everything tilted and slipped. ‘Better not,’ she tried to say but the words too slid out of control. ‘Sorry,’ she breathed, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
Teddy kept his arm around her as he tempted her to drink again. He eased her on to the mattress then lay down beside her and stroked her face. ‘There now; you’ll soon be nice and warm.’
Bobbie felt her cape slide from her shoulders. Teddy’s face in the firelight had taken on an oddly determined quality, quite different from the soothing tone of his voice. His eyes were hooded and dark. Doubt fluttered again and rose high in her chest. ‘No, Teddy …’ As she tried to raise herself from the mattress, the straps on her dress slipped down her arms, leaving her shoulders bare.
‘Don’t be silly.’ He pulled her back down. ‘Stay here with me where it’s warm.’
She fell against him and felt him kiss her neck. Falling and falling; eyes closed, head back, feeling Teddy’s mouth on her shoulders, her cheek, her lips. Falling further, she started to push against him as he cupped her breasts in his hands.
He used his weight to press her against the mattress. ‘Lie down. I won’t hurt you. There now; lie still. That feels nice, doesn’t it?’
Falling again into a vast, dark space and aware of Teddy kissing her mouth hard, his hands on her, his weight pressing her down. Bobbie twisted her head sideways. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ he said. He found the zip at the side of her dress and slid it down, heard her gasp and try to pull away. Her pale skin glowed golden in the firelight and strands of hair streaked her flushed cheek. ‘It’s nice, it’s good,’ Teddy breathed into her ear. ‘You’ll like it, I promise. Lie still and don’t put up a fight; there’s a good girl.’