Once a Land Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

fractionally
toward her.
    Barry was a dancer whose enthusiasm outreached his talent. As they traversed the floor Prue was aware that, while his feet kept in time, his body lacked the essential rhythm to match her own.
She longed for him to be livelier, but that was plainly beyond him. His Brylcreemed head bent lower towards hers: to avoid it, she was forced to bend her neck into a painful position. ‘Gee,
it’s great to be walking back late, walking my baby back home,’ slurped the music.
    Prue shut her eyes and thought of the party she had gone to with the girls and Joe: a big hall somewhere, cold, chairs that squeaked on the floor, a buffet of bridge rolls and jellies in primary
colours. It was there that Stella had been pursued by a tiny wing commander who danced like an angel. So brilliant was their dancing that others moved away from the floor and watched them perform
like professionals who had danced together all their lives. At the end, Joe had stood up and clapped. Prue herself had paid less attention than she might to Stella, for she had caught sight of the
flight lieutenant with whom she had recently exchanged glances in a teashop. She had made her way across to him and they danced – not like Stella and the wing commander, but with something
flaring so hard between them that the edges of her legs, her arms, her body felt blurred, the flesh made soft. Unwisely she had accepted the flight lieutenant’s offer of several more drinks,
and vaguely remembered being supported to the car. When they had got back Joe had carried her into the house, but she was long past being excited by Joe.
    That evening was the beginning of her real love for Barry One. Barry One the brave airman with his crinkling eyes and floppy hair who had made her feel there was nothing she had to explain.
Their language had been almost devoid of words, though their laughter always seemed to come together. Even when they had realized they loved each other they had made few declarations, both nervous
of failing to choose the right words. “‘I love you” is the hardest line to say,’ Barry One had ventured not long before he was shot down – thereby conveying his
feelings in a way that made Prue love him all the more. That first evening, when Prue’s dignity had flown and Barry One didn’t seem to mind, had been very different from the staid time
she was now having with Barry Two, she thought, as she released her hand to rub her aching neck.
    She was aware of the present Barry’s stomach pressing against her, and his quickened breathing. The band lurched into ‘I’m In The Mood For Love’. Oh, cripes, she thought.
Here goes.
    But Barry restrained himself. He didn’t speak in the car and didn’t grasp her wrist as they walked up the front path. In the porch he put a hand up and briefly touched her hair.
‘You’re a good girl, Prue,’ he said. ‘I hope you enjoyed this evening.’
    Prue nodded.
    ‘And next time . . . next time, do you know where I’m going to take you?’ Prue shook her head, dreading the answer, but curious. ‘I’m going to take you to my house.
I want you to see it. You’ve waited long enough.’ He said this with solemn conviction, as if he had no doubt that seeing his house was just what Prue had been longing for.
‘I’ll pick you up at the usual time.’
    He twirled round, surprisingly nimbly for one who had drunk a good deal of his favourite vintage, and headed back to his car. Barry Morton plainly had plans and she would have to think about
them very carefully.
    In bed, her own head quite clear, she began to weigh things up, an art she had never completely acquired. By dawn she was laughing silently at herself: she was running ahead in a foolish way. It
was unlikely Barry Morton saw her as marriage material. It was quite possible he had no serious intentions whatsoever. He was simply biding his time, waiting for her to give in. Then the laughter
turned almost to tears when she thought