Only a Mother Knows. Annie Groves
for them. But she wasn’t one of them. She was just upset and being helped by a kindly airman. After her drink she was going straight back home.
After finishing her third port and lemon Dulcie realised she wasn’t so angry now and she certainly didn’t want to scream any more. Feeling very mellow indeed, she told the airman all about her sister and her boyfriend. She hadn’t meant to tell him – she didn’t want to tell anybody, sensing that in some way it might have been her fault for keeping Wilder at arm’s length, but the alcohol had loosened her tongue somewhat.
However, her new beau reassured her that Wilder’s infidelity couldn’t possibly be her fault, she couldn’t be blamed for picking the bad apple in the barrel, and assured her that all American servicemen were not all like that at all.
‘Another drink?’ the airman asked and Dulcie nodded, feeling cordially tipsy, so much so that when the piano player struck up a popular tune she joined in with all the enthusiasm of a practised entertainer. She would show them that her voice was as good as their Edith’s.
The bar was crowded and the airman had been gone a while. Long enough for Dulcie to gather her thoughts.
Edith, it was true, had a better voice and was more popular, it had to be said – no wonder she had taken her sweetheart, Dulcie thought, knowing he was the gift that she was never going to get any enjoyment from. And, whereas Edith never felt she had to wait her turn or be grateful for cast-offs, Dulcie was used to being second-best. And it was the insecurity of seeing her younger sister being fussed and preened over from the moment she was born that made her what she was today, Dulcie was sure.
‘You were dreaming with your eyes half-closed there, honey,’ the airman said as he brought more drinks to the table. Dulcie wondered if she’d had enough but he soon managed to persuade her that she’d had a shock, and drinking port and lemon was good for shocks, he laughed.
The last drink seemed to disappear much quicker than the others, Dulcie noticed, and dragging her thoughts from the doldrums she once more joined in with the rousing chorus of songs.
‘Bless ’em all, bless ’em all, the long and the short and the tall …’ Dulcie swayed along with everybody else and very soon the room began to swim.
‘Are you all right, ma’am?’ said the airman, whose name she hadn’t yet asked for. Dulcie nodded and scrambled to the door for fresh air.
‘I’ll be fine in a minute,’ she said, holding up her hand to keep him at bay in case she deposited the alcoholic contents of her empty stomach onto the pavement. After a few huge gulps of balmy summer air she was able to nod to let him know she was better now.
‘Do you want to go back inside?’ he asked and Dulcie gently shook her head. Instead, she allowed herself to be escorted with his protective arm around her tiny waist towards Article Row.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful night?’ he asked, supporting her as she leaned a very sleepy head on his shoulder. It was lovely, Dulcie thought, taking in the sweet scent of parkland grass.
‘C’est la vie,’ she said lazily, having read the phrase in a magazine. She had been dying to try it out even if it didn’t fit the occasion, as she slipped her hand around his slim hips to huddle close. If Wilder didn’t appreciate her then there were plenty of men who did.
They were halfway down Keynes Road, sauntering alongside each other without a care in the world, when the warning banshee wail of the air raid began. Dulcie giggled, she knew her way around the area, and she knew there was an air-raid shelter in the park.
‘Here,’ she said, her voice slurred, ‘let’s cut through here.’ She took his hand and pulled him towards the low coil of barbed wire, realising that under ordinary circumstances she would never have dared do this with a stranger. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances and he wasn’t a stranger now.
‘I know where the shelter is,’ she quipped, noticing all the railings had been taken away to help build war planes and the park was quite open except for the low roll of spiked wire. Then to her complete surprise and obvious delight she felt his strong hands lift her up with ease, and the handsome airman whose name she hadn’t even asked carried her over it.
‘That was close, ma’am,’ he said, taking off his jacket and laying it on the grimy wooden bench that went along the wall of the empty air-raid shelter. Dulcie was about to protest when she remembered that she was wearing her best skirt and didn’t fancy ruining it on a grimy seat so instead she smiled and decided to make herself comfy for the duration of the raid.
‘Can we have less of the “ma’am” please, Soldier.’ Dulcie giggled again. ‘You make me sound like Methuselah’s mother.’ She paused and gave a thoughtful pout. ‘Well, his sister at least.’ Then she laughed, really laughed as if she had heard something so delightful. He made her feel good, this handsome GI, and ever so glad she’d met him.
‘I don’t know who this Methuselah guy is. Ma’am. but …’
‘Dulcie,’ she sighed. ‘My name is Dulcie.’ She gave another throaty laugh and she rocked a little as he enfolded her in his arms whilst she tried focus on his handsome features. He was so close now she could smell the clean fresh tang of his cologne.
‘Well, Dulcie, that’s some raunchy laugh you got there if you don’t mind my saying …’
‘Not at all,’ Dulcie all but whispered. ‘And you are?’ She noticed a delicious, unexpected warmth rise to certain parts of her body, making her feel decadent. She had never felt this way before. Not even with Wilder. He was closer now. The nearer he got the more her desire soared. And the more she craved his lips on hers. Maybe this was what they meant when they talked about their finest hour. Another giggle was only a whisper away and she watched him from under her lashes.
‘Well, Dulcie.’ His voice was low, intimate, with a little catch to it, and he never took his eyes from her. ‘My name’s Reece Redgrave the third …’
‘The third?’ Dulcie drawled and he told her yes in his deep Southern accent and Dulcie’s heart melted right there. He felt so powerful holding her like that, tanned and muscled in all the right places, and he was so polite: soothing her nerves, making her feel so special, unlike Wilder … Dulcie didn’t want to think of Wilder’s treachery now.
She wanted to forget the death and destruction going on around them and, if she was honest, even forget poor, injured, incapacitated David who flashed through her thoughts momentarily. What kind of a life would he have now? Who would have thought it? Fit and agile one minute … Then … But those thoughts were for another time. Now she needed strong arms around her to feel safe and above all she wanted, no, needed, to be desired.
Wilder never paid her the compliments that Reece was doing now. He never made her feel like a red-blooded woman the way Reece did. And if she was perfectly honest she wanted Reece to … Well, she couldn’t put into words what she wanted him to do, not even to herself.
Her heart, beating faster now, caused her breath to come in small, shallow pants as she pushed the fallen fringe from her eyes with both hands and crossed her legs, allowing her shoe to dangle from her red-painted toes, enjoying his lingering, open appreciation of her body.
‘So, Reece Redgrave the third.’ Dulcie’s voice came in short, whispering gasps. ‘Why don’t you sit here next to me.’ She tapped the wooden bench with her long red fingernails after making herself comfortable on Reece’s uniform jacket and in no time at all he was sitting so close to her she could feel every muscled curve of his body.
When he nuzzled her ear Dulcie giggled as the delicious ripples of pleasure woke up parts of her body she didn’t know existed before and as Reece trailed feathery butterfly kisses on her neck and décolletage, causing her to throw her head back in delicious abandonment, ignoring the swimming sensation in her head. Dulcie knew what was going to happen next and she savoured the anticipation as his lips sought hers.
Live for today, she thought lazily. Live for the moment. Tomorrow may never come. Suddenly Reece Redgrave was kissing