PEOPLE ADOPTED A certain nonchalant walk when they emerged from the woods after lovemaking. Elspeth had noticed this. The men would stroll, hands in pockets. Sometimes they’d whistle. They’d look down at their boots, kick stones, assume an air of casual indifference. The women would twirl a sprig of heather in their fingers, gaze down at it as if it was a specimen of dramatic interest. They’d look about them, smiling slightly, feigning innocence. Though their cheeks would be flushed and their eyes still glazed with pleasure.
Elspeth did this herself when she and Tyler returned to the camp after one of their bouts of passion. The pair of them tried to look as if they’d just enjoyed a healthy evening ramble and an interesting debate on the joys of nature.
At first the pair had always gone to their spot, the shady green dell by the river where evening deer came to drink. Recently, Tyler had suggested they find other places to pursue their rapture. ‘I hate routine. I hate going to the same place all the time. Let’s explore. We’ll have secret spots. Then when we leave we’ll have made love under so many trees, the whole forest will be ours and full of our passion.’
It sounded so romantic, Elspeth agreed. Once, he led her out of the forest and to the top of a hill. The view was stunning, treetops, and, in the distance, the rooftops of a village twelve miles away. It had been windy, so they’d found shelter behind a boulder. The sex wasn’t spectacular, as the long hike had tired them both. Other times, they’d lie under trees thirty or forty years tall. Elspeth loved this. She loved taking her clothes off out there, the soft air on her skin. She loved his lips on her neck, she loved his kisses. And she loved the feel of him on her and the blissful intensity of moving towards a moment of ecstasy.
She’d open her eyes and see above her a lacework of treetops, small birds chittering in among the branches, shafts of sunlight streaming down – the forest as a cathedral. Why, she thought, this is almost holy.
Tyler would turn to her, stroke her cheek. ‘We’re getting quite good at this.’ Elspeth said it only took practice. While she was practising, she forgot to be jealous of Izzy and Izzy’s comforts. This was fun.
The good side of all this was that the original secret spot, that had once been their spot, now belonged to Elspeth alone. It was where she went swimming on the evenings she didn’t go thrill-seeking with Tyler.
The days were hot now. As she ran back and forth-slapping Harry on her rump, jumping over tree stumps and bracken, Elspeth would comfort herself with thoughts of water. Soon, she would go down to the river. She’d take off her boots and socks, feel the grass between her toes. Then she’d strip. She’d spread her arms into the evening, let the air spread over her whole body. She’d slip into the river, waiting for that moment when its chill would hit her chest and make her gasp. She’d swim slowly up and down, push herself below the surface, skim along, hair streaming behind her, then burst up into the sunlight, shaking her head, sending sparks of water scattering round her. This thought kept her going as she sweated and puffed, and worked at her new sixty-logs-a-day quota.
Tonight was especially good. A parcel had arrived from Izzy. It had contained three tins of condensed milk, a tin of pears, two bars of soap, two bars of chocolate and a copy of Woman’s Own. Lorna had seized the magazine and settled on her bed to read it. ‘It’s good to know there’s still a world out there.’
The letter from Izzy had said that one day she’d tell Elspeth the full silly story of how she managed to get these treats without using up any ration coupons. ‘Just enjoy everything.’
Elspeth put the box under her bed beside her accordion, took a bar of chocolate and her towel and headed for the river. Chocolate and a swim, this was as close to heaven as she was going to get, until the war ended and she could escape this place.
When she arrived, she put her towel and chocolate on a tree stump. Then she peeled off her boots and shoes. She stood up to unfasten the straps of her dungarees, and looked round. Trees were swaying, a breeze gusting. There were soft whisperings, leaves moving against leaves. She thought there were deer about, waiting for her to leave so they could come to the river. ‘Me first,’ she called. ‘Then you can have your drink.’
She took off her clothes. Before she got into the water, she broke the chocolate bar in two, and took one half into the river with her. She stepped from the bank, waded out to midstream, holding the chocolate high above her head. She swam on her back, kicking up a fountain as she went. Chocolate melting in her mouth. She flipped over and struck out for the riverbed, trailed her hand over stones, looked for fish, though she never saw any. Then she pushed herself upwards and broke the surface, shaking her head, heaving in air.
The wolf whistle was long, deep and wild. It split the air. Elspeth crossed her arms over her breasts, looked round. Nobody. ‘Tyler?’ she called.
There were whisperings, the sound of many people trying to silence one person, an almighty ‘Ssshh . . .’ Elspeth waded back to the bank, hurrying was hard. Another whistle. Then many, many people whistling, a cacophony of shouts, cheers, applause and deeply appreciative whistles. Elspeth clambered onto the grass and scuttled to her towel, which she wrapped round herself.
When she looked up, forty or fifty Newfies emerged from hiding places behind trees. They were all yelling, clapping, and shouting her name, many had brought bottles of beer to swig as they enjoyed the show. ‘Elspeth, Elspeth. Give’s a kiss, Elspeth.’
Elspeth shouted, ‘Bastards! Bloody bastards! Filthy scum!’
Which only made her audience cheer harder.
‘Come up here, Elspeth. I’ve got something to show ya,’ someone hollered.
‘Bugger off, all of you.’ She yanked her knickers over her damp body, wriggled into her shirt and dungarees, shoved on her boots, stuck her socks into her pocket, picked up her towel and chocolate bar and stumped back up the path. ‘Bastards, bastards!’ she shouted. ‘You can’t let a woman have some fun, can you?’
Tyler was waiting at the stables. Elspeth steamed up to him and slapped his face. ‘Arse,’ she said. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’
He nodded. Rubbing the stinging cheek. ‘It was just a spot of fun.’
‘That’s why you didn’t want to go there. You knew they’d be watching. But you let me put on a show.’
‘They’re men. They don’t get to see a woman these days.’
‘Well, that’s the last time they’ll see me. Did you organise this?’
He shook his head. ‘I just found out about it. You were safe, though. I said they could look but they couldn’t touch.’
‘You won’t be touching, either. Not now.’
‘Aaw, Elspeth, don’t be like that.’
She started to walk away.
‘C’mon, Elspeth. It was just a bit of fun. There’s not a lot to do round here.’
She turned and said that it hadn’t been fun for her. ‘I’ve been humiliated.’
He shrugged. He was proud of Elspeth. She was clever, witty, could play the accordion and the physical work in the forest had made her body lean and strong. He’d enjoyed other men lusting over her. He’d been showing her off.
She told him he was an oaf. She never wanted to see him again. This, she knew, would be hard, considering they were both working in the same part of the forest, and he was living in a hut several yards up the track from hers. Still, she could always turn her back. She walked away, head in the air, reminding herself to look dignified.
‘Don’t be like this,’ Tyler said.
Elspeth shouted, ‘Huh!’
‘Marry me,’ Tyler said.
‘Never.’
‘Marry me and they’ll let you out of here.’
Elspeth stopped, turned to face Tyler. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Everyone knows that. If you marry, you can leave.’
He thought so.
Elspeth walked away again. Behind her Tyler was shouting, ‘Marry me. Come live with me in Newfoundland. I love you.’
Back in the hut, Elspeth ate the rest of her chocolate. Marriage hadn’t occurred to her. Well, it wouldn’t. She hadn’t, till now, anyone to marry. Why not marry Tyler? she thought. He was kind, he was fun and the most enthusiastic lover she’d ever had.
She contemplated opening a tin of condensed milk. But no, she’d take it to work tomorrow, put a dollop into the thick black tea she drank at breaktimes.
Newfoundland, she thought, would probably be cold, wet, pounded with all kinds of weather. But it would be an adventure. And she was always up for that.
She didn’t want to marry anybody, really. But she did want out of here, and now she’d found an escape. She was so excited, she almost forgot about her horde of peeping Toms.