Soldier's Valentine by Lizzie Lane Read Free Book Online

over.’
    She didn’t tell them that once the dreams were over he sometimes pulled up her nightdress, turned her over onto her stomach, forced his knees between hers and pushed forcefully into her from behind. That was between husband and wife.
    Instead she went on to tell them about his moods, the times when he stared into the distance, starting if he heard a distant noise that sounded vaguely like artillery fire.
    ‘I’m not sure that we love each other, but we need each other. I lost Edward in that terrible war. Henry lost a great many friends. We comfort each other. We need each other and in time I think we will be honest with each other and lay our souls bare.’
    Her face suddenly contorting with alarm, her mother sprang to her feet, her gloved hands clutched over her black leather bag. ‘You must not do that, Mary Anne. You don’t know how it might affect him.’
    Her father also got to his feet, smoothing back his white hair before placing his hat on his head.
    His expression was dour, his tone condemning. ‘You stupid girl. You have been saved from your sin. Be content with that.’
    ‘I think I owe him the truth otherwise our marriage is a sham and I’ve been living a lie. We’ll survive. I’m sure we will.’
    In bed that night Mary Anne thought about what her parents had said and the looks on their faces. They were leaving her far behind, confident she was settled and no longer their responsibility. She decided then and there that they had been selfish about her well-being, that to them having a respectable reputation in the community was worth more than her happiness.
    The baby stirred, her belly moving from one side to the other. She rubbed at it, feeling the small lump that might be a foot or fist.
    Feeling her move, Henry stirred beside her. ‘You all right, Mary Anne?’
    ‘The baby’s awake. It’s difficult to sleep.’
    He rolled over on his side and put his arm around her. ‘Not just that though, is it? Yer mum and dad are moving away and there’s nothing to be done about it.’
    She turned her head to face him, his features facing her. ‘I love you, Henry Randall. This is where I belong.’
    Although she couldn’t clearly see his features, she sensed he was surprised. On reflection it was the first time she’d said such a thing.
    She took her hand from beneath the bedclothes and stroked his cheek.
    ‘We’ll be fine by ourselves, Henry Randall. We’ll be fine by ourselves.’
    For his part, Henry Randall stared into the darkness, afraid to close his eyes. In dreams, he confronted his own demons, urges that nobody but he himself knew about, things he was capable of that could land him in prison.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Henry Randall was sitting in his cab eating his lunch of cheese and onion sandwiches. Once the sandwiches were finished, he would tuck into a freshly baked slice of bread pudding. He’d say that for Mary Anne, she was a good cook, a good housekeeper and a kindly companion.
    That’s what had struck him most about her since they’d been married; she forgave him his trespasses – well, that was how her father would put it. He couldn’t help falling off the wagon sometimes even though he’d pledged to her father that he’d give up the drink completely. In time he might do, but the drink helped him cope with his past. Sober, his memories were fresh; drunk, they became less clear.
    Hearing Mary Anne tell him she loved him had struck a chord. Suddenly, he wanted the past buried, not in drink but entirely in a new life with her. He even suspected he loved her too and he was certainly proud of her – sometimes to the point of jealousy.
    He’d seen some of the other drivers look at her when she’d passed by on her way to the shops at the bottom of Park Street. She went there to buy material so she could make clothes for all of them. Sometimes she came by with his lunch because he’d left it on the kitchen table.
    She deserves better, he thought to himself and happened to mention