Winds of Eden Read Free Page A

Where do you want to go after lunch?’
    â€˜As it will be your last afternoon in London for a while, it’s your choice.’
    â€˜National Portrait Gallery,’ he said decisively.
    â€˜You’re only saying that because it’s one of my favourite places.’
    â€˜Is it so awful of a man to want to please his big sister?’
    â€˜I’ve tickets for the Adelphi for a matinee of Hi Jinks .’
    â€˜Fat lot of good they are on a Tuesday when matinée days are Wednesdays and Saturdays.’
    â€˜Except when management’s laid on a special performance for wounded and convalescent soldiers.’ She pulled the tickets from her pocket.
    â€˜I couldn’t take a serviceman’s seat.’
    â€˜You wouldn’t. So few soldiers are fit enough to leave the hospitals we were given double the number of tickets we could use. I telephoned the theatre. They were so delighted at the prospect of having a war correspondent witness their generosity they offered us a box. Unless of course you’re too embarrassed to be seen with your big sister.’
    â€˜I’d be honoured to accompany you, Dr Downe.’ He leaned back as the waitress set their stuffed herring rolls on the table.
    â€˜You sound exactly like Harry. Deferential to the point of sarcasm.’ She fell serious. ‘Michael, tell me to shut up if you like, but you and Lucy …’
    â€˜Shut up.’
    â€˜Is your marriage beyond salvaging?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜You rushed into it.’
    â€˜I did. I regret it. If you want to say “I told you so …” ʼ
    â€˜I don’t. Can I help?’
    â€˜Not unless you can magic Lucy off the planet. No, that’s unfair. I don’t wish her dead or ill, only a million miles away from me. Permanently.’
    â€˜Have you seen her?’
    â€˜Not since my last leave five months ago.’
    â€˜You haven’t been to Clyneswood?’
    â€˜Not since I returned from France the day before yesterday, and, before you ask, we haven’t corresponded for five months.’
    â€˜Have you told our parents?’
    â€˜They’d have to be blind not to notice we can’t stand one another.’
    â€˜Do you intend to divorce her?’
    â€˜When I’m back in this country for longer than a week I’ll talk to a solicitor. But that’s the problem, isn’t it, Georgie? While King and Country need us body and soul we can’t make plans to do anything personal, and won’t be in a position to until “after the war”.’

Chapter Two
    The Ritz, London, early evening, Tuesday 30th November 1915
    Damp from his bath, Tom padded naked into the bedroom. He looked at Clarissa lying in bed, and without warning yanked the covers from her.
    Naked and irritated, she shouted, ‘Tom!’ before grabbing the sheet and tugging it to her chin.
    â€˜That’s like sealing the cake tin after the cake’s been eaten.’
    â€˜Now I’m a cake?’
    â€˜A luscious strawberry and cream sponge.’ He peeled back the sheet, nuzzled her bare back, and slipped his hand between her thighs. ‘Why so coy? Especially after what we’ve been doing for the past six hours?’
    â€˜I’m cold,’ she lied. His attitude to nudity was casual, hers wasn’t, and she knew he thought her prudish.
    â€˜I could give you a hot bath.’
    â€˜I’m not a child.’
    â€˜As I discovered earlier.’ He lifted the sheet and slapped her buttocks lightly. ‘Time to rise and make yourself beautiful, Mrs Scott. I’ve booked a table for seven thirty.’
    â€˜Our last dinner.’
    â€˜Please, don’t get maudlin. I hope you have a dress that will complement those earrings.’
    â€˜As it happens, I do.’ Furious with herself for allowing the façade of happy, compliant girlfriend to drop, she pulled the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around herself