There was an ugly leaden silence in the porch. Lorette's smile slowly faded as she caught her breath, unable to comprehend the sight before her. Unable to believe that here he was - Henry, the loved then loathed Henry. Was he indeed returned from the dead? He might as well be, for all the bitter coursing shockwaves she felt rise up inside her.
In a mixture of curiosity, embarrassment and rage, Ben could not take his eyes off the young man who stood on the doorstep. Dressed in a smart satin jacket and dark turn-up trousers, his winkle-picker shoes gleaming to match his cufflinks, he looked entirely out of place in an English country hotel. Lorette felt as though the world were turning in slow motion as she took in the sight of Henry's handsome face. He had not changed one bit. The thick blonde, wavy hair ... the perfect white teeth and vibrant dark blue eyes, quick to fix her with a hypnotic glare.
"What's a guy to do to get a drink in here?"
The unmistakable Chicago drawl was like a knife through her heart, as he breezed past her into The Wild Thyme, nodding to Ben as though he had known him all his life and had only been gone five minutes.
From behind her, Ben placed a tender firm hand on Lorette's shoulder.
"Can I help you, sir?"
It was Walter's voice then, Lorette only barely heard as she fought not to cry, from the steps leading down to the scullery.
"Well hey, looks like we got all the good company here we could ever need 'n more!" Henry's sing-song sneer was all wrong amongst these kind and loving people, she thought, as he grabbed a slice of cake from the kitchen table and began to stuff it into his mouth. Having come in through the back door, Walter and Betsy each stared at the young American in bewilderment. With the other hand, Henry made to pick up a bottle of beer - before Ben moved forward in one stolid step and snatched it back from him.
"This is a paying hotel. I don't believe you've made a reservation, sir. And in that case I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave," he said quietly. Lorette could still find no words, as she spied Betsy from the corner of her eye, looking concerned from the corner of the kitchen.
"And who might you be, sonny? Farmhand?" Henry did not look at Ben but wandered across the room, making easy eye contact with everyone, and then eyeing Lorette up and down closely. She bowed her head while Walter stood, glowering. Ben's fist was clenched in fury.
"Henry ..." she started to speak, but heard only a feeble whisper.
"Sweetie!" he said and held out his long arms, his city suit jacket fitting them perfectly and made towards her in an attempted embrace.
"We gotta get back to London, you know? Whatcha been doing holed up in this dump? I got a job, you hear that? Speculating! Oh, I meant to let you know and all. But when it all kicked off and - well, let's make tracks honey? We can talk about it on the way."
As he leaned across to take Lorette by the arm, Ben stepped in between them. Standing half a foot smaller than the American, he refused to feel overpowered. Lorette leaned in towards him, grappling for his hand behind her back.
There was another long silence, only broken by an awkward cough from Betsy.
"I think - perhaps you youngsters should have some privacy - " said Walter.
"Yes," said Betsy rallying.
"Unexpected company or not, Ben dear, everyone who comes to The Wild Thyme must be made to feel welcome. And we don't want any cross words, now do we?"
Walter was stoical as he rose to put out a hand to Henry. The young man did not take it, only looked him up and down with disdain.
"You didn't tell me you'd a Grandpa out of town, Lorette?" Henry did not shift his gaze from Walter.
"I'd like you to be polite to Mister Mountford, Henry," Lorette said flatly.
"This was his home for many years. Before it became mine." "Home, eh?"
He waltzed about the kitchen with a keen, scornful eye on every inch of it.
"Don't look like your style, if you don't mind my saying ... and who's this? Mrs Mountford? Or are you the housekeeper, little lady?"
Such insulting words as he stood in front of Betsy were the final straw for Ben. Grabbing Henry by the shoulder, he spun him round to find a look of violent anger in the American's eyes.
"You just look here, is what you'll do," said Ben without the tremor in his voice that he'd expected.
"This is our home. Lorette's home. You've no place here. And no damned business showing up out of the blue after long months when she - she thought you were dead, for God's sake! I don't care for your manner. These fine people here have offered you a civil chance to act decent, and you haven't taken it. So - I've asked you already and I'm now telling you. Please leave."
Henry's face was frozen as he watched Ben with all the study of an eagle eyeing up its prey. Seeing Ben take Lorette's hand as she trembled, he gave a slow grin.
"Well, I never. You sweet on this guy, babe?"
He laughed a dirty, uncaring laugh.
"Didn't take you long eh? So you thought I was cold in my grave and you needed warmed in this fellow's bed? You always were one for getting what you asked for - but hell that's fast, even for you!"
As scalding tears began to rise in Lorette's throat, she barely noticed Walter leap from his chair to block Ben's path. As for Henry, he had not even time to process what was going on as Ben strode towards him and landed a brutal punch on his left jaw, then another to his right, sending him flying across the kitchen table. It was like a scene in slow motion, broken only by Betsy's loud screams. Although she wanted to stop him, Lorette found she could not, as Ben rounded on the table and grabbed Henry by the lapels. Shaking his head brusquely, Henry laughed a nervous laugh.
"Well hell, that's not very hospit -” but he got no further, as Ben hauled him from the table and pinned him fast against the kitchen wall. Raising his knee to the American's groin in a firm threat, he brought his nose square with his and spoke slowly and clearly.
"You ever insult her again, and I'll kill you. I won't talk about it. I'll just do it. You hear? "
Dazed, Henry was caught in a mixture of embarrassment and genuine mounting fear. He put up his arms in a lame surrender. But by now, Lorette had found her own voice and marched over to the two. Pulling Ben away, she slapped Henry hard across the cheek. Moaning and defeated, he slumped to the floor. Towering over him, she felt a renewed energy run through her veins.
"How dare you, you selfish pig!" she said loudly.
"You used me! I was never with any other man before or after you, until I found a real one! Because that's what Ben is!"
Hot tears filled her eyes as Ben took her hand and held it tight. Henry said nothing, only rubbed his bashed face. She felt stronger than she had in years as she glared down at him in pity and disgust.
"You knew fine you had no intention of hanging around and yet you told me one pack of lies after another just to get - to get what you wanted! Didn't you? Didn't you?!" she almost screeched as Ben put his other hand to her back. She turned to him with a look that made it clear that for now at least, she did not need him. Folding her arms, she glowered down at him again.
"You can clear off right now, you hear? I haven't a clue how you found me, but now that you have, you can look at me one last time and get out of my sight. You don't know me. You never did. And this is my home. One in which you and your like will never be welcome. Now go. Or we'll have the police take you away. You've five minutes, no more!"
Stepping back from him, she no longer shook. It was as though the greatest weight had been lifted almost physically from her shoulders. As Ben put his arm around her and Walter and Betsy both moved closer to the couple in silent solidarity, Henry slowly and clumsily got to his feet, his lip bloodied and his hair in disarray.
"Blow me down..." he said quietly, before meeting Lorette's eyes with no unkindness left in his own. Puffing for breath, he spoke hurriedly.
"I sure am sorry, sweet thing. Hey, didn't mean no real harm now did I? I just kinda missed you. And you know how I can never keep this damned mouth of mine shut. Once I crossed the pond and all, it just got harder and harder to think about coming back. It was only my old Pa who made me come back in the end, when he found me the job. Figured you might want a part of all that. Seems I was wrong. No hard feelings? Sir?"
He nodded to Ben, who only cocked his head briefly in the direction of the door.
"I get the message, man. I really do," Henry's sigh was heavy as he walked to the door. He turned then to face them all, and even Ben had to admit there was a genuine expression of remorse on his face.
"Can't get used to being back in London, and in all truth I thought long and hard before I jumped up here to find you. Thing with me is, I never know when to do the right thing. Never did, eh babe?"
But he didn't wait for an answer as he straightened his jacket and made for the door. Turning to Betsy, he nodded solemnly.
"I didn't mean no insults, ma'am. And thank you for giving me a hearing I sure didn't earn."
"How will you - get back to London?" Lorette asked, her back still to him.
But Henry was gone, leaving the door wide open. Swallowing hard, she made to follow him. As Ben moved to stop her in her tracks, she wheeled around and grabbed both his hands in hers.
"Just give me a minute with him. Please Ben. It needs to be ended properly. He's not - he doesn't know what he's saying at times. Please just give me a moment and you'll never see him again. I promise you."
Reluctantly, he dropped her hands as she went outside and closed the door quietly behind her. It took Betsy and Walter all their time not to peer outside from behind the lace curtains to the side of the porch. Stilling them with a grimace, Ben sat at the kitchen table and helped himself to a large measure of whisky.
"She means it, lovey,” said Betsy gently. Walter said nothing, only glanced at the back of the door, quite incredulous at the turn life had taken since the Gilday girl had shown up at The Wild Thyme.
Before Lorette could even find her bearings in the dark, Henry had made it to the gate. His steps were unsure and his shirt rode in creases down the back of his trousers. He was breathing loudly as she caught up with him.
"Stop!" she yelled, not giving him a second to respond before she grabbed him by the shoulder and surprising herself, succeeded in spinning him round to face her. It was a brilliantly clear-skied evening, and for a brief moment she saw in his face the bold, adventuring Henry she had fallen for at just seventeen. They stared at each other in fresh surprise.
"Are you alright?" Lorette asked sternly, taking his chin in her hand and inspecting his bruised lip as a mother might a child's.
"He packs a mean one, your beau!" said Henry, his eyes screwed up in pain.
"Yes well, you asked for it. And you had no business whatsoever coming after me here, after all you put me through."
This time, there was no retaliation as Henry sighed heavily and reached out to hold Lorette by the upper arms.
“I know kid, I know. I'm the same fool I ever was. Talk too much and think too little. But I didn't know what to make of it, after we'd only had what - six weeks, a little more together? And hey - you weren't exactly sweetness and light last time I saw you, were you then?"
A little shame-faced, Lorette recalled how she had thrown a quart of beer at him in a basement club at Piccadilly, yelling obscenities and throwing punches when the bouncers had lifted her off him.
As the memory of it caught up with both of them, she had to fight hard not to laugh. She sat down on the stile along from the garden gate. Tentatively, Henry followed suit. Still they did not look at each other. Reaching inside his suit pocket, he pulled out a box of cigarillos and lit one, its tip throwing weird shapes of light across the grass. Without asking her, he nudged the box in Lorette's direction. She picked a cigarillo from the box and leaned sideways to accept his match. The warm, sweet draw of smoke was like nectar and transported her instantly back to the chaotic, heady days of London when everyone had lived for the moment. Standing back from herself for a moment, she considered the extraordinary leap her life had taken. The countryside, tranquillity, simple people, quiet nights and easy pleasures - were they really for her? Then a stab of guilt, as she realised she had not yet considered Ben a true part of it all; her new world.
"Looks like you got someone to keep you safe, babe. I hope he's the one for you. And this place is really yours?"
"Yes. So you just watch your step," she said and half-smiled, not turning still so that he wouldn't see her expression. For a few moments, there was a surprisingly comfortable silence between them.
"And you know what Lorrie, I didn't go to bed with Rena. That was all in that beautiful head of yours, after she turned on you and made you believe her. Why would I go with her when I had you? You know? We're young. We were all drinking too much, partying too much - when there was still a god-damned war to be won. But I wasn't the only one to make a few mistakes." Lorrie. She hadn't heard that in so long. For a moment she was almost tempted to give in to Henry. What must he be now, twenty-one? The charisma, the movie star looks, the humour - there was plenty that had not been the stuff of her imagination. But the mention of her former best friend's name had brought back memories far less sweet. Of the drunken scrapes and lack of money, the absence of any real support when she lost her mother - and that hollow, terrifying loneliness when she woke one day to find him gone. As for Rena, she too had been quick to scurry back to her parents in the suburbs, when all the war work was over. Not for her the rough and tumble of survival as a single girl in the city. Unsure who to believe any longer, Lorette found too that she didn't really care if Henry had been unfaithful. That was the very least of it.
Glaring up at him defiantly, she prepared her final speech.
"You broke my heart, Henry. And it didn't take another girl for you to do that. The silence was the worst thing. When you went away after your last leave, what was I supposed to think? I didn't hear another word from anyone and I thought you'd just used me till there was nothing left to use. I know you're young and deep down you were all just as frightened as the rest of us. But all it would have taken was a telegram. Or a note, before you ran. I can't forgive that. I just can't."
"Like I say," he said, sighing and smoothing down his hair, "we all make mistakes. We all went a little bit crazy in the War and - " "Stop using the bloody War as an excuse! It's over and done with. People are who they are. Life has to go on. And for some of us, it has. You've no right expecting the clock to turn back just for your sake, Henry."
Taking another deep, satisfying draw of the cigarillo, she resolved to start smoking them again immediately.
"I can see that, honey. You did well, huh? The Wild Thyme Hotel! I kinda like it! Remember you going on about your aunt's place. I'm proud of you."
"How did you find me?" she asked sullenly.
"Wasn't too hard. That old dame that ran your digs. She was full of the chatter. Easy street. You must be cold, hon. Off you go, back to the folks inside. I'll get on my way."
He stood up and threw his cigarillo to the ground, grinding its mashed stub into the edge of the stone dyke. Alone with him, Lorette could tell that the bluster had been all for show. Part of her had to admire him for turning up unannounced among strangers. She reminded herself that she had known his vulnerable side, too. That they had seen the best and worst of one another. She swallowed hard, determined to remain rooted in the here and now.
As he reached out to touch her cheek, without realising she was doing it, Lorette clasped her hand on top of his.
"You take care, Henry. Stay safe please. We owe it to each other to make the best of every minute. No more hurting. But keep in touch, won't you? Let me know how you get on in London? Perhaps Ben and I could pay you a visit sometime?"
With a snigger, Henry made a great fuss of procuring a large, blue silk handkerchief from his pocket to feign a sneeze.
"What on earth is that about?" she said, indignantly.
"Oh nothing babe, nothing. Just - Ben?"
"And what of it?"
She frowned in ire as he stood tall beside her, his confidence restored, looking smart and indefatigable in his American attire.
"Nothing. Nothing much at all, darling. Now you give my sorries to these nice folks up there, and don't you forget it."
He smiled his most devastating smile as he climbed into his MG and revved up noisily.
"Proud of you, Lorrie! Always will be. But you know what? Ben?! That's a puppy dog's name!"
And with that, he was gone down the farm road to Calding and away. She stood open-mouthed in fury as he sped away, his insult ringing in her ears.
"It is not! How dare you! Ben is a beautiful name!" she screeched in desperation, before realising how utterly foolish she was being, the MG already on the far horizon. He had had the last word.
She then found herself counting the long seconds in her head, the roar of the car fading away in the distance. As an owl hooted loudly from a nearby tree, almost as if to mock her, she turned slowly to walk back up the path to the hotel.
Ben was sullen at first, then fiercely protective of Lorette, and in the end he got drunk and mouthy with disdain, proud of having punched Henry. This irritated her and despite their intense passion of earlier in the afternoon, she made her way to bed bodily exhausted and alone by ten. Ben fell asleep on the parlour sofa. It was only as she lay in bed, her thoughts racing as she struggled to sleep, that she was reminded of the tingling in her rear from their afternoon activities. It had offered up sweet comfort, as she concentrated on Ben's face and voice, stroking her delicate skin inside her pyjamas, and letting the delicious memory of the wonderful, deeply erotic spanking lull her into a deep sleep.
"Goodbye, Henry," she whispered determinedly to herself as she drifted off to sleep. Then she repeated the words again twice - almost as if to convince herself that they were true.