Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters

Lucy playfully sniffed the air. ‘I can’t smell anything, only the faint smell of roses.’

Dave laughed. ‘Little liar!’

‘All right then, we both stink. But there’s time enough to sit and talk for a few minutes, isn’t there?’

‘If you like.’ He was happy with that. ‘I don’t suppose half an hour would hurt.’

‘And what then?’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘After half an hour – what then?’

‘Well …’ Like any man, he could never understand a woman’s meaning. ‘Then I’ll walk you home, and I’ll go back to my room over the stables.’

‘And is that what you want?’

‘Not in the long term, no. But just now it’s all I’ve got. And like you say, there’s no rush to get back.’

‘So you’re happy to stay here in the garden, with me?’ She looked up at him, her eyes shining. With every passing day she loved him more. But she could never tell if he loved her the same.

‘Lucy, I’m more than happy to sit here with you,’ he answered. ‘I love your company – you know that.’

‘So, would you be “more than happy” to put your arm round me?’

‘Now, why would I want to do that?’ He loved to tease her.

‘Because I want you to.’

‘That’s not a good enough reason.’

‘All right then, I’m shivering. And I need you to keep me warm.’

Without a word he slid his arm round her shoulders and drew her close. ‘Is that better?’ When she didn’t answer he gazed down on her face. ‘You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?’ he asked softly.

‘No.’

For a moment he was silenced by the dark uplifted eyes that gazed back at him. Then she whispered: ‘Dave?’

‘Yes?’

Giving no reply, she kissed him full on the mouth – a long, lingering kiss that woke too many emotions inside him, emotions that both frightened and excited him. Within them was guilt and passion. Guilt for this betrayal of Judy, and the passion of a youth wanting and needing to become a man.

They touched and fondled, and when the touching became a frantic need, they made love right there on the floor of the summerhouse.

Both virgins, they followed age-old instincts to give and receive pleasure that was in turns wild and tender. And when it was over, they lay in each other’s arms, still breathless, softly kissing, elated by what had just happened.

‘Do you love me, Dave?’ Lucy asked, and he answered that yes, he did love her.

The floor of the summerhouse was cold, and he helped Lucy to her feet. He was feeling a double guilt now, shame burning in his blood. What had he done. The rush of guilt was replaced by a deep-down need to make amends. ‘Of course I love you, Lucy,’ he repeated. There could be no other answer. Not now.

Adjusting their clothes, they strolled on, hand-in-hand. ‘Are we engaged?’ The girl asked innocently.

Affectionately, he stroked her face and smiling down on her, he asked, ‘Is that what you want, my darling?’

Lucy nodded her head. ‘More than anything else in the world,’ she whispered.

He laughed softly. ‘Then yes, we’re engaged.’

‘Can I tell Father?’

Caution set in. ‘Let’s keep it to ourselves for a while, eh?’ he suggested. ‘We need to get used to the idea, and besides, you’ll want to choose a ring and all that.’ He blew out a sigh. ‘I hope you realise, it’s a big thing … getting engaged.’ Manlike, he dreaded all the fuss.

‘You’re not regretting it already, are you?’

He squeezed her hand. ‘No.’

‘I do love you so,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll make you happy, I promise.’

He sensed her panic and the guilt was tenfold. But why? he asked himself. Judy was long lost to him. She was in his past, and Lucy was in his present – and his future. So why did he feel like crying – as though he should have lost his virginity to Judy, not Lucy? He was being foolish, he knew. He must pull himself together; thank his lucky stars for this girl’s love.

‘I know you will,’ he answered. ‘I’ll do my best to make you happy too.’ Lucy was a wonderful young woman who loved him without reservation, and there was more than a measure of love in his heart for her. People had been happy on less and besides, he had given his word, and he would keep it.

Dave wondered if this strange apprehension he was feeling had anything to do with his parents. They had loved each other with insane passion, yet even that was not enough to prevent the tragedy that followed. Yes, perhaps he was afraid of love. So maybe what he and Lucy had would prove to be stronger in other ways. And so much easier to control.

Shivering, he hurried bride-to-be towards home, a welcome fire, and a long, hot bath!

As good as her word, Lucy kept the news to herself; though there wasn’t a minute when she didn’t want to shout it from the rooftops.

‘When can we choose my engagement ring?’ she asked Dave on the day of the annual barn-dance.

‘Let’s get the do tonight out of the way,’ he said, ‘then on Monday morning we’ll go into Bedford and start looking for your ring. After that, you can tell the world. Does that suit you?’

Lucy was more than suited, and for the rest of the day she walked around on cloud nine.

Down in the farmhouse kitchen Maggie was hard at work.

‘I want all hands on deck!’ She was drawing together all the last-minute details. ‘In two hours folk will start arriving and there’s still balloons to be blown up, straw bales to be laid out for the seating, and where’s the banners? We always have banners!’

Summoning three of the stable lads, she set them to work. ‘I’ve things to be doing myself,’ she said. ‘There’s all the food to be seen to yet. And think on,’ she warned. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, by which time I expect it all to be done and ready.’ With that she marched off, chuckling to herself as she recalled how the three of them had been hiding in the stables. ‘Lazy little hounds,’ she told herself. ‘Did they really think I didn’t know where to look for them?’

Her kitchen at The Willows was a hive of industry; there was Lucy shifting the freshly baked bread rolls onto a cooling tray; little Peggy Henderson from the village flitting in and out of the larder like a headless chicken, and the cat waiting at the door for any stray titbits.

As always, Peggy was fussing, talking to herself in frantic clucks as she darted to and fro. ‘Where’s the ham shank? It was here just now when I got out the cream jug … Oh dearie me, dearie me!’

‘Stop panicking!’ Maggie came in the door and straight off she saw how little Peggy had already put one ham shank on the butcher’s block ready for slicing. ‘Look behind you, hinny,’ she urged. ‘In a minute, it will bite you on the backside!’

Peggy began giggling uncontrollably. ‘Silly me,’ she chirped. ‘I must have taken it out earlier. There’s so much to do … you can’t think, can you?’