‘Then Jimmy was wounded and you came home?’
‘Yes.’
Belle waited, expecting a tirade of ‘How could you’, followed by a list of Jimmy’s virtues.
But it didn’t come. Mog turned on her side towards Belle and put her arm around her. ‘I knew something was wrong when you arrived back. I saw such sorrow in your eyes, which couldn’t have been entirely because of Jimmy’s injuries. Later, when he came home, I saw how defeated you looked when he acted so cold towards you. My guess is that you saw that as what you deserved?’
Belle began to cry. ‘I wrote to Etienne before I left France and told him I could never see him again and that he mustn’t try and contact me. I tried to make Jimmy happy, but I couldn’t.’
‘No one can make another person happy, they have to do that for themselves,’ Mog said. ‘I hated the way he was with you, I told him so, many times. But he was stuck in his own private hell, and I think he lost the ability to feel for anyone else.’
‘But that doesn’t excuse me being unfaithful. I did that when he was still well and fit.’
‘Would you have left him if he hadn’t been wounded?’
‘I don’t know. I thought of waiting until the war was over, then telling him I’d stopped loving him. But I still believed in “till death us do part” and I doubt if I could’ve brought myself to hurt him that badly. You see, I never stopped loving him, whatever I felt for Etienne.’
‘And the day Jimmy got the letter telling him that Etienne saved him, and he had been killed. How did you feel then?’
‘Like my heart had been ripped out,’ Belle whispered.
Mog’s arm went round her tighter. ‘My poor love. I wish you’d told me all this.’
‘You aren’t angry with me? You don’t feel it serves me right?’
‘What right have I got to sit in judgment?’ Mog said. ‘I expect if you’d told me the truth when you first came back from France, I would’ve said all kinds of harsh things. I loved Jimmy, he’d become like a son to me. But I know deep down that Garth and I pushed you into marrying him. I so much wanted you to have a kind, decent man who adored you, and so I ignored the tiny voice that said you weren’t entirely perfect for one another. I convinced myself I was just guiding you in the right direction.
‘You were happy together before you lost the baby, so I really believed I had done the right thing.
‘But tonight as I saw how you and Etienne looked at each other, the way your eyes both shone, I could feel the passion in you both. You and Jimmy might have had a good marriage, but it was never quite like that. I think Etienne is your destiny.’
‘You have such a big heart,’ Belle sighed. ‘I was so afraid you’d be ashamed of me.’
‘How could I be ashamed of someone who put aside her own needs to do the right thing for her husband? I heard some of the nasty things he said to you, Belle. But you stuck with him, and nursed him tenderly right to the end. That’s what counts.’
‘And now what do I do?’
Mog chuckled. ‘I know what I’d do, get on the ferry with him tomorrow, go off to Paihia and find somewhere out of the way to stay until you’ve worn each other out with loving.’
‘Mog!’ Belle exclaimed.
‘That’s how it was with me and Garth, we hardly went out of the hotel room for our whole honeymoon. Of course you’ll be putting the cart before the horse. But we don’t want to alarm the good people of Russell before we can arrange a wedding and make it decent.’
‘Where will you tell people I am, and how will you explain Etienne?’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Mog said. ‘Now dry those tears and go to sleep. You’ll need to get up early to wash your hair, have a bath and make yourself beautiful for him.’
Chapter Thirty-One
Mog watched as Belle combed her newly washed hair, and smiled. Wearing nothing but a white lace camisole which reached to a few inches above her knees, with her dark curls cascading over her shoulders and a dreamy expression on her face, she looked so pretty.
‘What are you going to wear today?’ she asked. ‘Not that dreary grey dress again I hope.’
‘Lawd no! I thought maybe the mauve dress Lisette gave me,’ Belle said. ‘It’s stylish without being too bold, and it doesn’t have any old memories for me.’
‘A good choice,’ Mog said fondly. ‘And you have that straw hat with the flowers on which will go well with it.’
‘I didn’t thank you for being so understanding last night,’ Belle said, turning to the older woman to hug her. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. You always make me feel better about everything.’
Mog hugged her too, and bit back the tears that threatened. She had often said she hoped Belle would meet a special man again, but she hadn’t anticipated it happening so soon. Her fear was that Etienne would want to whisk her away, as she couldn’t imagine him wanting to settle in Russell.
He was a hard man to figure out. A loner, she felt, courageous and strong-willed, but with a dark past. She knew he was on his best behaviour last night, careful to say all the right things, and she had to admit his French accent was delightful. But she hadn’t been able to see beyond his good manners and his looks.
Mog wouldn’t call him handsome, his face was too bony and his eyes such an icy blue, but still he would make many a female heart flutter. She remembered Noah once saying that he was a man you would fear if he was against you. The faint scar on his cheek spoke of back-street knife fights and danger.
Yet those icy eyes had melted as he looked at Belle, and he had even saved Jimmy for her sake, so she knew they had nothing to fear from him.
‘Will I do?’ Belle said later as she came into the kitchen where Mog was washing out a few clothes.
Mog turned from the sink to see Belle looking a picture in her mauve dress and straw hat. Excitement had brought a pink tinge to her cheeks and made her eyes shine. ‘You look beautiful, now off with you!’
Etienne was just coming down the steps of the Duke of Marlborough as Belle turned on to the path by the shore. He paused to look out at the sea; he hadn’t seen her.
She pulled in the skirt of her dress tight and hid behind a tree to watch him. It was sunny and already the worst of the previous day’s puddles had dried up. She wondered if he was thinking of hiring a boat to whisk her away somewhere because the sea was as calm as a millpond.
Yesterday’s dark suit with matching waistcoat had been changed for a navy-blue blazer and light grey trousers and waistcoat, with a cravat instead of a tie. He looked far too well dressed for a place where most men only ever looked smart on a Sunday for church. She called out to him, then bobbed back behind the tree.
She giggled as she heard him running towards her. She waited till he was about to pass her hiding place, then jumped out with a ‘Boo!’.
He laughed. ‘You shouldn’t do that to an old soldier,’ he said, catching hold of her hands, his smile almost as wide as the bay. ‘With my lightning reactions I might have shot you.’
‘Did you sleep all right?’ she asked.
‘Not much,’ he said ruefully. ‘I was haunted by dreams of you. How was it with Mog after I left?’
‘She thought you were a bad lot and I was to meet you today and tell you to catch the Clansman back to Auckland.’
Still holding her hands, he leaned back against the tree. ‘And are you going to obey her?’ he asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
‘You once told me you’d kill me if I tried to escape you,’ she said, trying hard not to laugh.
‘I don’t think you put on that pretty dress to be killed in,’ he said, letting go of one of her hands to touch her cheek lightly. ‘So where shall we go? I’m told that a man called Old Tom can be persuaded to take us to Paihia.’
‘Funny you should say that, I just happen to have a couple of overnight things with me,’ she said impishly, showing him a small straw basket. ‘Mog said she would tell anyone who asked that we’d gone to see some French
relatives of yours over there.’
He beamed. ‘So I have her approval?’
‘That will depend on your future behaviour,’ Belle said, fluttering her lashes at him. ‘Maybe you need to go back into the Duke and get your razor and a clean shirt. Tell them you aren’t sure how long you’ll be gone for.’
‘Gardez au chaud pour moi pendant cinq minutes,’ he said, and turning, he ran off back to the hotel.
Belle walked slowly on, past the hotel towards the jetty. She wanted to dance and sing she was so happy, and she was very glad there was no one around who might stop and ask her where she was going.
Someone would have told someone else that a Frenchman had come in on the ship and that he was staying at the Duke. That’s how it was in Russell. They would discuss why he might have come, who he might know, anything out of the ordinary was worth talking about. But if Belle had been spotted with him, the gossips would be hard at it by now.
Mog had been very sharp to remember that there was a small community of French people living in Paihia. No doubt she would airily tell Peggy that Etienne was an old friend of Jimmy’s, that he’d come to pay his respects on his way to visit his relatives. Then she’d say he’d taken Belle with him today to give her a chance to see the community over there.
When Vera heard his name she was going to be agog. Belle wished she could go and see her and explain, but Mog had said she’d take her to one side and tell her the whole story.
Old Tom was not one for more than a few words. He was sitting on his boat mending a fishing net, and when Etienne asked if he could take them to Paihia he agreed without any questions.
Old Tom was only in his fifties, but he was called that to distinguish him from another Tom who was younger. He bundled up his fishing net, wiped off a seat and held out his hand to help Belle in.
Out in the bay it was chilly and very windy. Belle took off her hat and wrapped herself in her shawl. Etienne’s fingers stole in beneath it and found hers and just his touch made her tingle. She was full of niggling anxieties: where would they stay, how would they get back, and even if it was wise to be rushing into this when she couldn’t be certain what his intentions were.
But there was too much wind and noise from the engine to talk, so she just sat back, her fingers entwined in his, and looked at the scenery, as always thinking that the Bay of Islands must be one of the most beautiful places on earth.
Paihia wasn’t as pretty and quaint as Russell. It sprawled along the shore, perhaps because there was enough space to build houses further apart. Yet the knowledge that no one knew them here was an attraction in itself.
Etienne went into the post office to inquire if they knew of a cottage he could rent for a few days. He told Belle to stay outside because he said when he told lies he didn’t want an audience.
He came out smiling with a scrap of paper in his hand. ‘It looks as if we’re in luck. This Mrs Arkwright takes care of two or three places which are used for holidays. I can go and see her now, she’s just around the corner from here.’
Again he didn’t want Belle to go with him and suggested she looked in the shops while he was gone.
He was gone well over an hour and Belle became quite worried. Then suddenly he came haring along the road by the shore.
‘What took so long?’ she asked. ‘I was getting anxious.’
‘Mrs Arkwright took me to see the cottage, and once there she fussed about making up the bed, putting out towels, I couldn’t hurry her up. But I’ve got the key and we can go there now. All we need to do is buy some provisions.’
‘What’s the place like?’ Belle asked as they went back towards the grocery shop.
‘You’ll see when we get there,’ he said.
‘Did it cost a lot?’
He put his finger to his nose to signify it was none of her business.
After buying a bag of groceries, Etienne led her to the end of the road along the shore where a wooded hill rose. They took a narrow path up through the trees.
‘Voilà!’ he said as they came to a clearing. He indicated a tiny white-painted wooden house built with its back into the hill, a few steps leading up to a veranda which overlooked the sea.
‘What a beautiful spot!’ Belle exclaimed. It was entirely private as it was surrounded by trees. When they walked up on to the veranda to open the front door, Belle couldn’t even see the roof of another house.
Etienne put the bag of groceries down to unlock the door, but before she even thought of moving, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her in. Then he put her down and kissed her.
All reason, modesty and even concern that the door was still open left her. Last night’s kiss had awoken feelings that she’d almost forgotten she’d ever experienced, and now she was hungry for him. As he kissed her she was feeling under his jacket, frustrated that she couldn’t reach under his trousers to touch his skin because a waistcoat and braces were in the way. She pressed against him shamelessly as his tongue darted into her mouth and inflamed her still more.
He threw off her hat and shawl, his fingers fumbling with the buttons at the back of her dress. He pushed it down low enough over her shoulders to release her breasts and bent to take her nipple between her lips.
She groaned with delight, and tried to remove his jacket, but she was so overcome with the waves of red-hot pleasure washing over her that she couldn’t manage it. He pulled up the skirt of her dress and found his way beneath her petticoat, pushing her drawers aside, and as his fingers found their way inside her already hot and wet sex, she held his head tight against her breast and cried out that she wanted him now.
She hadn’t even seen the bed or noted anything about the interior of the place they were in, and when he pressed her up against a wall, stopping caressing her only long enough to unbutton his trousers, she wouldn’t have cared if they were in a pig sty.
His hands were on her buttocks and he lifted her up and on to his erect penis, and held her there by the wall, pushing his way into her as he kissed her. It was frenzied for both of them, rough and crude sex, the kind Belle had seen in back alleys in New Orleans and at the time felt sympathy for the girls subjected to it.
But she needed no sympathy, she wanted him every bit as badly, and her whole body seemed to be melting into him.
She came in what seemed like seconds, before he did, and she heard herself cry out his name.
He was close behind, his fingers digging into her buttocks, his breath like fire on her bare shoulder, and with a roar he came too, and his grip on her loosened so she slithered down till her feet were on the floor.
‘It wasn’t meant to be like that,’ he murmured, his head sinking to her shoulder. ‘I meant it to be slow and beautiful.’
Belle could feel perspiration running down her face and between her breasts. Her legs had gone to jelly and if she hadn’t been leaning back against the wall she might have fallen.
‘We can do slow and beautiful later,’ she panted out. ‘For now hot and fast was just right.’
He lifted his head and looked at her, kissing her lips, her nose and her forehead. ‘Your cheeks are all rosy now, you’ve never looked more beautiful.’
‘Can I sit down before I fall down?’ she said, caressing his face with both her hands. He had never looked more beautiful to her either. She could feel the scar on his cheek, she loved his full lips, his proud nose and his fair eyebrows. But most of all she loved his eyes; they were like the sea, so cold sometimes, darker when he was angry, but right now, even though the room was gloomy because the curtains were still closed, there was enough light from the open door to see they were as blue as a summer sky, and soft with love.
They adjusted their clothing and Belle went to put the groceries away. Etienne drew back the curtains, and it was only then that Belle took in that the cottage was a perfect hideaway. It was simply furnished, with just a sink, a table and chairs, a small stove with a rug before it, a couple of easy chairs and the china and cooking pots on shelves. But
it was spotlessly clean and bright, and the other room was the bedroom, with just the bed and a chest of drawers.
‘The water is rain from a tank,’ Etienne said, turning on the tap to demonstrate. ‘The privy is outside. I saw a tin bath hanging on the side of it too. And there’s a shed with logs for the stove.’
‘I’ve got everything I need right here,’ she said, putting her arms around him.
Etienne lit the stove while Belle went outside on to the veranda to look at the view of the sea over the treetops. She could see Russell in the distance, but it could have been a million miles away. She had never in her life been this happy. There was no guilt now, no remorse, or even anxiety about the future. As Mog had said, being with Etienne was her destiny, and perhaps she had needed to go through all those bad things in the past year to know how right this was now.
Later, after a cup of tea and a sandwich, they went to bed. This time their clothes came off first – Etienne even hung up her dress so it wouldn’t get creased – and the lovemaking was slow and beautiful.
Belle ran her hand gently over his scars; the one on his shoulder that she’d seen in France was fading now, but the newer one on his right thigh was still very livid. ‘I was lucky that it missed my knee and I didn’t get gangrene,’ he said. ‘Knee wounds usually leave you with a bad limp.’
‘Did it hurt?’
‘Not when it happened. I staggered back towards the line for a bit, using my rifle like a walking stick. But I must have passed out through loss of blood. I can just about remember the stretcher bearer picking me up. It was only when they cut my uniform off at the dressing station that it began to hurt, and it was hell then.’
‘Did you know that you’d got the flu?’
‘Not really. Only that I felt really bad, very hot and shivery at the same time. I don’t remember much more, except I thought you were there.’
‘Me?’ Belle giggled.
‘Yes, but like you were when I was seasick on the ship going to America. When I started to get a bit better one of the nurses asked me who Belle was. It seemed I’d been calling your name.’