Without effort he could see the shop, the old jeweller watching intently while he had picked out this ring.
It was neither a wedding nor an engagement ring in the accepted sense. But it had seemed right for Eve.
When he had told her about the strange little shop she said, ‘I think it’s lovely.’ She lifted herself higher and kissed him gently on the mouth. ‘You’re always full of surprises!’ Then she looked at him, her eyes big and very steady. ‘Put it on for me.’
She offered her left hand. ‘Please.’
He held her wrist and said, ‘It may not fit.’ It was as if this very moment had also been a part of destiny.
He said, ‘I do love you, Eve. One day—’
She raised her finger very slightly. ‘Until that day—’ Then she withdrew her hand and held it to the sunlight again. ‘We’re engaged!’
They faced each other and laughed like conspirators. Like children. Then she got to her feet, and when he attempted to hold her she shook her head.
‘I was going to be sensible. To make you eat something, or at least have a drink.’
She was backing away very slowly, as if she could not bear to lose sight of him.
‘I can’t be sensible, dearest Ian. I’ve wanted you for so long. Why be sensible now?’
He stood looking at her, watching the firelight playing in her eyes. So many emotions. Determination and a sweet unsureness, even fear.
She whispered, ‘Give me five minutes.’ Then she held up her ring and exclaimed, ‘I’m so happy!’
She ran into the adjoining room and closed the door.
So his father knew all about it, but not, it seemed, her own. The consequences neither of them could guess; but there would be no regrets.
The war and the danger were alien, not even intruders in this place.
He hesitated, then pushed open the door.
He did not know what he had been expecting. That Eve might be in bed, her eyes on the door; nervous perhaps, shy now that the moment had arrived. Wondering if the reality would spoil the dream they had both cherished.
But she was standing by the window, one hand gripping the heavy black-out curtain while she peered towards the darkening estuary. She was wearing a white nightgown, with small delicate patterns of lace around the neckline and hem. Just two thin cords across her shoulders, her hair hanging free and shining faintly in the light from the solitary bedside lamp.
He saw her tense as he walked towards her.
She said, ‘I – I wanted to be perfect for you.’
Ransome put his hands on her shoulders and was shocked to discover they were so cold despite the humid air and the fire they had left in the other room.
Very gently he turned her to face him, holding her at arm’s length. Her hand released its grip on the curtain and fell to her side; she did not look up, as if she could feel his eyes on her.
He said in a whisper, ‘You’re so lovely, Eve.’ He put one arm around her and pulled her against him. He could feel her supple body through the thin silk, the pressure of her breasts against him, and when she did at last look into his face he saw the warmth, the pleasure of his words shining in her eyes.
She threw her arms around his neck and shook some hair from her face.
‘Wanton, and I don’t care. I’m not going to spoil anything because I’m inexperienced. I want to be adult—’ It would not hold, and she nestled her face against his, her body trembling as she sensed his need of her.
‘You may have grown up, Eve. But you’re the same girl.’ She did not protest as he led her to the bed and sat her down. ‘You couldn’t spoil anything, as you put it.’ He sat beside her and kissed her gently at first, and then with a passion he had never known before. He felt his heart pounding like blood, and gripped her more firmly as her mouth responded to his, her lips parting while she drew him closer.
She lay back on the bed and spread her arms as if crucified. He touched her body, her breasts, caressing them through the silk. Then he leaned over her and kissed her, he did not know how many times. Through the nightdress, across her bare shoulders until she gasped, ‘Oh, Ian, I never thought—’
She raised herself as he slipped the nightdress away, watching his eyes while she lay naked, her long hair across the pillows and over the side of the bed.
She whispered, ‘Don’t turn away.’ She did not move as he undressed, and only the beat of her heart below one uplifted breast gave away her emotion, her longing for him, not just for this moment but for all the months, the dreams, the fears.
Then he knelt beside her and ran his fingers over her breast, down still further to the dark triangle he had seen through the nightdress when she had turned from the window.
She reached up and held his shoulders. ‘I’ve never been with any other man. You know that, don’t you?’
He nodded. ‘I shall be gentle, my darling girl.’
it’s not that. I’m – quite small. You may hurt me.’ her fingers gripped him more tightly. ‘But I don’t want you to stop.’ Her eyes were pleading. ‘I can bear the pain… it will get better in time.’
She gasped when he touched her, as she felt his body dividing hers. Ransome slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and kissed her very slowly. He wanted to hold his breath, to prevent hiinsell from crying out. He felt her back arch to receive him, then tin-first precious moment. She drew him down, her hands slipping down his back, pulling him until her nails must surely have broken the skin.
She gasped, ‘Now, Ian, please, now Ransome felt her body surrendering, then kissed her hard on the mouth as he entered her and was enclosed, received like part of herself.
They lay together for a long time, she on her side with one leg thrown across him, her foot playing with his.
She said, it was beautiful.’ Her eyes were very near to his, filling her face. ‘I knew it would be like that. I just knew. Now nothing can keep us apart.’
Ransome stroked the hair from her cheek. ‘And I knew you would be as you are. When I saw you lying here it was all I could do not to take you then and there. You’re so lovely, you’ve no idea.’
She moved closer. ‘I want us to make love again as soon as we can.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, you are wanton.’
They kissed, but this time the embrace did not break.
The next day they went for a long walk along the cliffs, and watched the sea. It looked angry and hostile, with serried rows of jagged breakers and blown spume.
Then far, far out to sea, almost hidden in horizon haze, they saw the ships. Ransome’s heart sank: it was something he had hoped to avoid. Like the long arm reaching out, leaving nowhere to hide.
‘What are they, Ian?’ She clung to his arm, her hair barely contained by a scarf, her face so relaxed and happy he did not want to reply.
Suddenly a thin white waterspout made a flaw in the dull horizon, and seconds later a muffled boom thudded against the cliffs.
She said quietly, ‘They’re minesweepers, aren’t they?’
He nodded. ‘Trawlers out of Falmouth, most likely.’
She gripped his arm more tightly. ‘They look so small. It’s a wonder they hold together with great explosions like that.’
Ransome turned her towards a different path. No escape. The field where he and Tony had once hiked was commanded by a slit-eyed, concrete machine-gun bunker, the lush grass dotted with tall poles to prevent gliders or small planes from landing here.