The Bannister Girls Read Online Free PDF Page A

she
want
him, in the way he meant? Did she, in Biblical terms, want
carnal knowledge
of him?
    The rigid words of her college religious instruction classes swam through her mind. Outdated, unrealistic, and some said ridiculous in these harsh days of 1915, and yet … and yet…
    Angel swallowed at the importance of the decision. Jacques took her hand and led her to the window. Before they reached it, he turned out the gaslight so that they were indarkness. He pulled back the curtains and moonlight bathed the room. Beyond the window, the outlines of buildings and spires were softly grey against the rich navy blue of the sky. The branches of a lone tree sighed and whispered in the wind.
    â€˜When this war is over, Angel, you and I will come back to this very room and look out on the lights of London. That much I promise.’
    When they arrived, she had seen his kit bag on the floor. There was little else scattered about. It was as if he had packed everything away in that small bag for his last night. It had promised to be a sterile night. But now they had each other…
    The war seemed very far away from that snug little bedroom at the Hotel Portland. They didn’t put on the light again. They undressed by moonlight, to gaze at one another and wonder at the beauty God had given them.
    The preliminaries were sensually sweet as they lay together between the cold sheets, but it was more than the crisp cotton fabric that made Angel shiver.
    She was a romantic, and these were moments that should be heralded with trumpet sounds and church bells … and then all the vague euphoric notions of her tender years evaporated as she felt the hard warmth of Jacques’ body invade her own.
    The first small sharp pain was followed by a glorious acceptance. This was what her body had been made for, what all her emotions had been awaiting. This was love.
    â€˜My beautiful Angel,’ Jacques breathed her name against her skin. ‘You are truly my perfect woman. In case I should forget to tell you in the next hundred years we shall spend together, remember that I told you tonight.’
    His face on her own was damp with passion as he moved against her. His words exalted and humbled her.
    â€˜You expect us to spend a hundred years together, then?’she asked tremulously, wanting to hear him say that this was truly forever.
    â€˜No. I should have said eternity,’ he whispered in her ear, his lips tugging gently at her ear lobe.
    Angel was overwhelmed by him. If this was continental charm, then Jacques had an abundance of it. If it was false, she didn’t want to be told. She never even considered it in those precious stolen hours before the dawn of another grey March morning.
    Angel awoke slowly. She was cold. It seemed only minutes before that she had been so warm, so safe. She had been wrapped in someone’s arms, and had gone to sleep cocooned against his body. She had become a woman in every sense of the word. She knew now what fulfilment meant…
    Her eyes flew open, and in an instant she knew that she didn’t want to turn her head in that icy little bedroom. Nor to reach out her hand to encounter nothing but the cold pillow beside her. For a fraction of a moment more, she refused to believe what her mind told her, that Jacques had already gone…
    But she had to believe it. She turned so quickly, her neck cricked. The bed was empty except for herself. She lay as if frozen, then forced herself to look around the room. There was no kit bag, no few personal belongings on the dressing table, nothing to say that Jacques de Ville had ever been there, or ever existed. Angel felt a sob tear at her throat. It was unbelievable. It was a cruel nightmare…
    She slid out of bed, and felt a swift shame at seeing her own naked body. She reached for her clothes with shaking hands, and then she saw the note placed carefully on top of them. She ripped it open.
    â€˜My Angel, I know you’ll be