Chapter Ten

Bella saw him waiting exactly where he had said he would be but she had the advantage over him as he had his back to her and couldn't see her approach. Peter Wilton was leaning against the driver's door of a small black Austin A40, face turned to the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on his skin. She was thirty yards away but paused and held her breath wondering whether to turn and run away. What on earth was she thinking? Only yesterday she had sworn that she wouldn't be going anywhere with him and yet here she was making a rendezvous with a man she had been warned about. The warning was, however, devalued in her eyes as it had come from someone undoubtedly motivated by jealousy. For a moment she wondered why she had come. Was it because she liked him? Or was it because she was hurt by what had happened with Tom, annoyed by Hattie and simply wanted to forget for a while. Her head was telling her to walk away and she turned and started to move in the opposite direction hoping to silently disappear from sight before he was even aware that she was there.

"You're going the wrong way," he drawled, his tone casual.

Bella stopped in her tracks and turned around. He hadn't moved. He was still standing next to the car with his eyes closed.

"How did you know I was here?"

He turned his head to face her and opened his eyes.

"Lady's prerogative. I told you yesterday."

Bella moved towards him, "Told me what?"

A slow smile spread across his face, "That you'd change your mind."

She narrowed her eyes at this statement and could think of no response until he added, "Of course, I caught sight of you heading this way from the top of Cookham Hill. It's a great vantage point. And I have very good hearing. Your shoes are noisier than you think."

"So you just raced down here and pretended you were waiting on the off chance, did you?"

He grimaced, "Well, I can't deny it but I did genuinely hope that you'd change your mind."

Bella sighed, "Well as it happens, I changed it back again, that's why I was leaving."

"But something made you walk this far," he countered, "In spite of your boyfriend."

The mention of Tom threw Bella into a quandary. If Peter thought she had come here in a clandestine manner without Tom's knowledge he might form the wrong idea. She was annoyed that Tom's words were still nagging at the back of her mind and was determined there should be no misunderstandings.

"I don't have a boyfriend and that has nothing to do with me being here." She found that it had hurt to confess the truth about Tom. If Peter was surprised at the news he didn't show it.

"Fair enough." He gazed up at the sky, "It's a beautiful day, shame to be stuck around here kicking our heels. Are you sure you don't fancy a picnic? I know a great little spot." He smiled at her, a slow easy smile that added warmth to his handsome features and somehow made him seem much less dangerous than Tom had suggested. Bella realised how little she wanted to return to Greystones at this minute especially now that Hattie had taken up residence. He was right. It was a lovely day and she had nowhere else to be today.

"Alright, but," she hesitated. How did you tell someone like Peter that he wasn't to get the wrong idea or try any funny business without sounding prissy or giving offence?

"Just friends," Peter supplied.

Bella nodded, "Yes, that's it. Just friends."

He held open the passenger door of the Austin for her and she got in as demurely as possible, copying the way she'd seen film stars getting into cars on the newsreels at the pictures. He shut the door and walked round to the driver's side. When he climbed in beside her she caught a waft of expensive cologne and just for a moment thought that she was a little like a film star today, being taken out by a handsome, wealthy young man until a thought occurred to her, "Isn't it a bit early to be going on a picnic? It's only eleven o'clock."

Peter glanced at the watch on his wrist, "Yes, you're right. You were very punctual so we're in plenty of time. We should be able to make it by one o'clock."

"Where are we going?" Bella asked, realising that they were about to embark on a two hour car journey.

Peter winked at her, "Wait and see."

X-X-X-X

"There's a young lady down here for you, Tom."

The sound of his father's voice calling up the back stairs roused Tom from his daydream. He had been staring out of his bedroom window at the rear of the shop, not really taking in the view of the back garden where he could see the large vegetable patch religiously tended by Marjorie, a few hardy vegetable plants already sprouting in response to the warmer spring weather. The conversation with Bella last night had thrown his spirits into the doldrums. There seemed no way back from the place at which he and Bella had arrived having wandered there as if blindfolded by their conflicting emotions. He felt as if he'd lost all sense of direction. He had truly never expected Bella's response to be so sudden and final and had been unprepared for what had transpired.

He knew that travelling abroad was something out of the ordinary for a young man from a humble background with limited means and that his parents might struggle to understand his need to go out and explore the world. In their eyes he was already having an adventure. They sometimes talked about his National Service as if it were a kind of extended holiday. In truth, as much as he enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow conscripts and found them to be a reasonable bunch on the whole, they were not companions of his choice and much of what he did on a day to day basis was mind-numbingly boring and repetitive. He didn't mind doing his bit but he knew that military life would never be a long-term career choice. More and more he had begun to see life running Stimpson's General Stores as something akin to his National Service only instead of two years he was contemplating the rest of his life. He loved his parents and was grateful for everything they had given him but he wanted a little more from life, at least for a while.

The moment Robert called to him Tom's heart leapt at the thought that Bella had come to find him. Perhaps she'd had a change of mind. It could be the only reason. She must be regretting her words. He knew that she wasn't happy and deep down that she loved him. He turned away from the window, glanced in the mirror on the wall and ran his fingers through his hair trying to comb a few wayward strands into place. He hoped he didn't look like as tired as he felt. He had slept fitfully, frequently waking and remembering that final look Bella had given him before he left Greystones. If it were possible for someone to haunt your dreams she had surely done so.

He bounded down the stairs eager to greet Bella and paused for a second to take a deep breath before pushing aside the curtain across the door that separated the shop from the Stimpson's private accommodation.

Hattie Tyler, smartly dressed and immaculately made up was standing at the counter and turned to look at Tom the moment he stepped into the shop, a dazzling smile upon her face,

"Hello Tom . Here I am turning up like a bad penny."

The stab of disappointment was hard to mask but for the sake of politeness Tom fought to control himself and gained the impression that Hattie hadn't noticed.

"Hello Hattie," the forced cheerfulness in his voice was so marked that Robert glanced at his son in surprise. Thankfully, Hattie knew him too little to realise the truth and seemed delighted at his enthusiastic response.

Tom was still standing near the door at the back of the shop and Hattie glided around the counter to draw nearer to him.

"Well, I said I might catch you and here I am," she simpered.

"Yes, so you are," Tom replied, still too disappointed to think of any conversation and there was an awkward moment of silence before Hattie continued,

"I've come down to have a look around and I thought to myself who better to show me the sights than the man who knows most people around here."

The penny dropped. From Hattie's engaging smile and appearance, clearly designed to impress, Tom came to the uncomfortable realisation that she was throwing her cap at him. His heart sank. The last thing he wanted was flirty attention from a girl he barely knew when his mind was still full of another.

"Well, what do you say, Tom?" Hattie was standing in front of him, head on one side adopting a coquettish look he'd seen posed by a few actresses in magazine photographs. No doubt she'd been reading the same magazines and practised the look in the mirror he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his father, ostensibly writing in the sales ledger, but clearly with an ear on the conversation. He could guess Robert's thoughts right now, particularly after the conversation in the shop only yesterday.

"I don't know, Hattie, I've got some errands to run," he sounded unconvincing and he knew it. What was more, Hattie took his lame excuse as a perfect opportunity to suggest joining him.

"That'll be great. I'll go with you."

Tom looked to Robert for help but his father merely inclined his head as if to say, 'do as you wish'. Against his better judgment, Tom relented, "Alright, I'll show you round if you like."

Hattie looked pleased, "Thanks Tom. It's really good of you."

"When do you want to go? " he asked with very little enthusiasm.

Hattie beamed, "No time like the present, if you're free," she hesitated for a moment as if considering something else. "Is there much round here to see? Only I'm not a great walker and my feet are still hurting from yesterday."

Tom glanced down at Hattie's feet. She was wearing what looked like a new pair of black suede leather shoes that seemed unsuitable for anything more than a cursory walk round the village. He shook his head,

"Don't worry it won't take long."

X-X-X-X

"Where have Bella and Hattie gone?" Charles called to Molly through the open doorway of their bedroom. He had come home from the airfield at lunchtime to collect some paperwork about the airfield expansion from his study and found the rooms downstairs deserted. Bounding up the stairs two at a time he had discovered Molly standing in the bedroom and only half-dressed.

"Are you going out?" he asked and then unable to let the moment pass without mischief added, "Or were you waiting for your secret lover?"

Molly, turned around, eyes wide in mock alarm, "Oh no, you've found me out, except the only man who makes any regular appearance when you're not here is well past his seventieth birthday." She grinned at him and winked, "You know how I'm partial to an older man."

Charles knew she was joking about Ted Chadwick who called in most weeks to give her some help and advice on the garden but he crossed the room towards her and coming up behind her slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned her head back against him and he bent his head to nuzzle her neck murmuring, "Should I be jealous?" Molly giggled as much from the idea of herself and Ted Chadwick having a secret love tryst in the shrubbery as the fluttering sensation of Charles' kisses on her neck,

"Don't be daft. Anyway, you are an older man."

She turned around to look at him taking in everything she loved about that handsome, familiar face, his dark brown eyes fixed upon her.

He pretended to be serious, "I think the word is mature, Molly."

She laughed, "Have it your own way but do you think you're mature enough to look after Eddie and Rose this afternoon for a little bit. They're having a nap at the moment but I'm due at the WI at two o'clock."

Charles looked surprised, "Are you going back there? I thought you couldn't stand being anywhere near Lady Wilton."

Molly grimaced and stepped away from him, "I'm not going to be forced out of anywhere because of her. Besides, I feel better after yesterday." The memory of getting her own back with the low level pass over Cookham Grange had made her smile to herself more than once particularly the sight of Lady Wilton, bent double with her handbag over her head.

Charles shook his head, "Least said about that the better but try not to do anything controversial while you're out."

"So you will look after Eddie and Rose, then?" Molly asked again.

Charles grimaced "I suppose I could, for an hour or so, but won't Bella be back or failing that perhaps Hattie would like to help out, especially as she foisted herself on us entirely unannounced." Molly was under no illusion about Charles' feelings on the subject of Hattie's unexpected appearance. He had whispered to her when they were in bed last night that he wasn't convinced that she was here just for a social visit.

Molly sighed, "To answer your question Bella has gone out and Hattie too, but I don't know where or when they'll be back or I'd be asking them to help. Anyway, you do want to be a modern husband don't you, Charles? You wouldn't want to spoil Miss Parkhurst's high opinion of you would you? I'd hate for her to find out that she's harbouring an illusion about you, should it slip into conversation one day that you thought looking after your children wasn't a man's job."

Molly grinned at him and Charles rolled his eyes and told himself that he had fallen into that trap.

"Alright, but don't gossip too long over the Victoria sponge or I'll be forced to turn up and demand that you return at once to fulfil your wifely duties."

Molly laughed and turning away from him crossed to the wardrobe. She rifled through the garments hanging there before finding a green dress and stepping into it. She pulled it up until it had reached her shoulders but hung loosely open at the back, "Button me up, won't you, Charles," she called, slowly turning her head to glance over her right shoulder at him.

Taken by the enticing sight of his wife giving him what amounted to, in his eyes, a 'come hither' look Charles laughed and lunging forward and grasping her at the waist turned her around to face him, whispering, "In a minute or maybe two…"

X-X-X-X

"And I thought the view from Hester Rise was good," Bella gasped in astonishment.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Peter Wilton called, approaching her from behind. He tapped her lightly on her left shoulder, "Look over there."

He raised his hand and pointed to her left and she took in the magnificent view of the River Wye, some five hundred feet below the highest point of the sheer rock face on which they standing, as it meandered on its journey south toward Chepstow and the Severn Estuary.

"What's this place called?" Bella asked.

"Symonds Yat," Peter replied watching Bella and appreciating the way her eyes seemed to light up as she took in the beauty of the landscape.

"Funny name," Bella observed, wrinkling her nose as she spoke.

"Well, Yat is an old word meaning gate or possibly gorge and the Symonds part dates from the seventeenth century and is named after the High Sheriff of Herefordshire whose family owned the land around here."

Bella was amused by the professorial tone of Peter's voice and couldn't help smirking.

"What's funny?" he asked.

Without looking at him Bella replied, "You sound like one of your teacher's at Oxford or something. You like History do you?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to lecture but believe it or not, I do like History."

Bella turned to him, "Is that what you're studying then? At university I mean."

He nodded, "Some of the time."

"And the rest of the time?" Bella enquired.

"Well, you know what they say. All work and no play makes Peter a very dull boy indeed." He stepped a little closer to her, "And I really wouldn't want you to find me dull."

Bella neatly side-stepped him, "Not much chance of that is there."

Peter said nothing. She was too good at reading his mind and intentions. He smiled and offering her a hand to lead her down across the uneven rocky ground declared, "It's lunchtime, shall we go and eat?"

The Saracen's Head was not Bella's idea of a picnic. As picturesque as the scene before her was, the old inn close to the water's edge overlooking the ancient hand pulled river ferry crossing, she had expected something more traditional from an invitation to a picnic. However, she wasn't sorry to be sitting in the saloon bar in the company of a few other visitors, some wearing stout walking boots and shoes and carrying haversacks, clearly enjoying the fine weather and the glorious walks around the Forest of Dean. Despite the fact that Peter had behaved impeccably all the way here in the car and kept up a polite flow of friendly conversation, those last moments at the viewpoint had raised a doubt in Bella's mind and once or twice during their lunch she had been afraid he might reach out to hold her hand or do something else that would make her feel awkward. As it was, once they had eaten their ploughman's lunch and had a drink, a beer for him and a half of cider for her, the conversation had faltered and she found him gazing at her in a way that brought on a return of the uncomfortable feelings. She tried to banish them by saying, "Tell me about History then. Why do you like it?"

Peter laughed aloud throwing back his head and attracting the notice of a several people nearby, "That's brilliant, Bella."

Bella was confused, "What have I said?"

"Tell me about history," he quoted, "It's almost akin to saying what's the meaning of life? How long have you got?"

Bella turned away unamused by the fact that he was laughing at her attempt to ask a serious question. Catching the expression on her face however he stopped laughing, "I'm sorry. You wanted to know what interests me."

She nodded. "Yes, you don't seem like the sort of chap who would be mad about history. Why did you decide to study it?"

Peter sat back in his chair and gave her a long look, "Oh, you'd be surprised," there was almost a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "The Wilton's are very keen on history but if you really want to know, I suppose my interest truly began with a mad German Professor."

X-X-X-X

"Is that it?" Hattie said, making no attempt to hide her disappointment. The tour of Nethercombe had lived up to Tom's promise of being short in duration and afforded little to excite her interest or offer any entertainment beyond the dubious charms of The Poppy Tearooms where a few elderly residents were enjoying a gossip over a light lunch of Welsh Rarebit. Having finished the guided tour, Tom and Hattie were sitting on a bench in the churchyard of St Mary's contemplating the view of the Village Green beyond.

Tom shrugged in response to Hattie's enquiry about the limitations of the Nethercombe social scene, "Pretty much, I suppose."

"Anyone under thirty must be bored to death," Hattie exclaimed. "I thought Ipswich was dull, but there's nothing here."

Tom felt slightly put-out by Hattie's response. Having asked him to show her around he didn't think it was too much to show a little appreciation of the area. It might not have everything a large town or city had to offer but it was still his home.

"We do have dances sometimes and there's the Young Farmers and the Cricket Club," he said trying not to sound too defensive.

Hattie stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous at this knowledge and clearly unimpressed by entertainment dependent upon the local economy and sport. Tom was struck by the difference in the first impressions of Bella and Hattie to the delights of Nethercombe. Bella, a city girl by birth, had confounded his expectations and shown a real love and appreciation of the countryside. He was even more painfully aware of how comfortable she felt here having settled into her life so well that she had been prepared to work for his parents and wait two years for him to return. By contrast, Hattie seemed to think she had landed on another planet in which no young person could possibly find anything to enjoy or entertain them.

Hattie gave Tom a sidelong glance. She noticed that he was staring ahead and seemed to be lost in thought, "Penny for them."

Tom looked down at her, "I was just thinking how different this must seem to you after living in a large place like Ipswich."

Hattie nodded, "Well, you're not wrong there but I didn't always live in Ipswich. Me and my mum have only been there about two years, before that it was Cambridge and then Peterborough. We just went wherever mum could get a job and find somewhere she could afford to rent. Mind you, I lived in a lot of places when I was with my Dad. We were always having to move, mostly because the coppers were after him. When I first met Molly in the war we were living in a small place in the country but that was just before Dad ran off and left me and then he died although that was after I'd gone into the Children's Home."

Tom was surprised, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Hattie shrugged, "Well, to be honest he wasn't the best father in the world and the Children's Home wasn't that bad as it turned out."

Tom was confused, "But you said you were living with your mum."

Hattie nodded, "Yes. After Dad died Molly went and found her for me and after about a year they let me go and live with her."

"You must have been happy to be with her again, then," Tom observed.

Hattie smiled, "She's alright, I suppose."

"It's a shame she didn't come with you. I expect Molly would have liked to see her again," Tom commented.

Hattie said nothing in reply but looked around her as if seeking some other source of conversation and then suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't that Molly over there?"

Tom glanced in the direction Hattie was pointing across the Village Green and seeing Molly emerging from the shop together with his mother remembered something he had heard over breakfast that morning, "She's going to the WI meeting with my mother. " He turned to look at Hattie, "I forgot to mention the Women's Institute. That's what any woman over the age of thirty does for entertainment round here."

Hattie laughed, "Oh crikey, what on earth was I thinking coming here?"

Tom looked down at her, dressed up to the nines despite being in a sleepy little village like Nethercombe, turning up unannounced to visit someone she hadn't seen for years and, as he recalled from their conversation last night, carrying an extraordinarily heavy suitcase that she had said contained almost everything she owned. He was curious, "What did make you come here, Hattie?"