The Spy Who Loved Me

THAT summer's night hadn't finished with me. Opposite Fullers' a policeman was standing by Derek's car, arguing with him. Derek turned and saw me. "Here she is, officer. I said she wouldn't be a minute. Had to, er, powder her nose. Didn't you, darling?"

More trouble! More lies! I said yes, breathlessly, and climbed into the seat beside Derek. The policeman grinned slyly at me and said to Derek, "All right, sir. But another time remember there's no parking on the Hill. Even for an emergency like that." He fingered his mustache. Derek put the car in gear, thanked the policeman and gave him the wink of a dirty joke shared, and we were off at last.

Derek said nothing until we had turned right at the lights at the bottom. I thought he was going to drop me at the station, but he continued on along the Datchet road. "Phew!" He let the air out of his lungs with relief. "That was a close shave! Thought we were for it. Nice thing for my parents to read in the paper tomorrow. And Oxford! I should have had it."

"It was ghastly."

There was so much feeling in my voice that he looked sideways at me. "Oh, well. The path of true love and all that." His voice was light and easy. He had recovered. When would I? "Damned shame, really," he went on casually. "Just when we'd got it all set up." He put enthusiasm into his voice to carry me with him. "Tell you what. There's an hour before the train. Why don't we walk up along the river. It's a well-known beat for Windsor couples. Absolutely private. Pity to waste everything, time and so on, now we've made up our minds."

The "so on," I thought, meant "the thing" he had bought. I was aghast. I said urgently, "Oh, but I can't, Derek! I simply can't! You've no idea how awful I feel about what happened."

He looked quickly at me. "What do you mean, awful? You feeling ill or something?"

"Oh, it's not that. It's just that, that it was all so horrible. So shaming."

"Oh, that!" his voice was contemptuous. "We got away with it, didn't we? Come on. Be a sport!"

That again! But I did want to be comforted, feel his arms round me, be certain he still loved me, although everything had gone so wrong for him. But my legs began to tremble at the thought of going through it all again. I clutched my knees with my hands to control them. I said weakly. "Oh, well..."

"That's my girl!"

We went over the bridge, and Derek pulled the car in to the side. He helped me over a stile into a field and put his arm round me and guided me along the little tow-path past some houseboats moored under the willows. "Wish we had one of those," he said. "How about breaking into one? Lovely double bed. Probably some drink in the cupboards."

"Oh, no, Derek! For heaven's sake! There's been enough trouble." I could imagine the loud voice. "What's going on in there? Are you the owners of this boat? Come on out and let's have a look at you."

Derek laughed. "Perhaps you're right. Anyway, the grass is just as soft. Aren't you excited? You'll see. It's wonderful. Then we'll really be lovers."

"Oh, yes, Derek. But you will be gentle, won't you? I shan't be any good at it the first time."

Derek squeezed me excitedly. "Don't you worry. I'll show you."

I was feeling better, stronger. It was lovely walking with him in the moonlight. But there was a grove of trees ahead, and I looked at it fearfully. I knew that would be where it was going to happen. I must, I must make it easy and good for him! I mustn't be silly! I mustn't cry!

The path led through the grove. Derek looked about him. "In there," he said. "I'll go first. Keep your head down."

We crept in among the branches. Sure enough, there was a little clearing. Other people had been there before. There was a cigarette packet, a Coca-Cola bottle. The moss and leaves had been beaten down. 1 had the feeling that this was a brothel bed where hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lovers had pressed and struggled. But now there was no turning back. At least it must be a good place for it, if so many others had used it.

Derek was eager, impatient. He put his coat down for me and at once started, almost feverishly, his hands devouring me. I tried to melt, but my body was still cramped with nerves, and my limbs felt like wood. I wished he would say something, something sweet and loving, but he was intent and purposeful, manhandling me almost brutally, treating me as if I was a big clumsy doll. "A paper doll, for me to call my own"—the Ink Spots again! I could hear the deep bass of Hoppy Jones and the sweet soprano counterpoint of Bill Kenny, so piercingly sweet that it tore at the heartstrings. And underneath, the deep pulse-beat of Charlie Fuqua's guitar. The tears squeezed out of my eyes. Oh, God, what was happening to me? And then the sharp pain and the short scream I quickly stifled, and he was lying on top of me, his chest heaving and his heart beating heavily against my breast. I put my arms round him and felt his shirt wet against my hands.

We lay like that for long minutes. I watched the moonlight filtering down through the branches, and tried to stop my tears. So that was it! The great moment. A moment I would never have again. So now I was a woman, and the girl was gone! And there had been no pleasure, only pain like they all said. But there remained something. This man in my arms. 1 held him more tightly to me. 1 was his now, entirely his, and he was mine. He would look after me. We belonged. Now I would never be alone again. There were two of us.

Derek kissed my wet cheek and scrambled to his feet. He held out his hands, and I pulled down my skirt and he hauled me up. He looked into my face, and there was embarrassment in his half-smile. "I hope it didn't hurt too much."

"No. But was it all right for you?"

"Oh, yes, rather."

He bent down and picked up his coat. He looked at his watch. "I say! Only a quarter of an hour for the train! We'd better get moving."

We scrambled back onto the path and as we walked along I pulled a comb through my hair and brushed at my skirt. Derek walked silently beside me. His face under the moon was now closed, and when I put my arm through his there was no answering pressure. I wished he would be loving, talk about our next meeting, but I could feel that he was suddenly withdrawn, cold. I hadn't got used to men's faces after they've done it. I blamed myself. It hadn't been good enough. And I had cried. I had spoiled it for him.

We came to the car and drove silently to the station. I stopped him at the entrance. Under the yellow light his face was taut and strained and his eyes only half met mine. I said, "Don't come to the train, darling. I can find my way. What about next Saturday? I could come down to Oxford. Or would you rather wait until you're settled in?"

He said defensively, "Trouble is, Viv, things are going to be different at Oxford. I'll have to see. Write to you."

I tried to read his face. This was so different from our usual parting. Perhaps he was tired. God knew I was! I said, "Yes, of course. But write to me quickly, darling. I'd like to know how you're getting on." I reached up and kissed him on the lips. His own lips hardly responded.

He nodded. "Well, so long, Viv," and with a kind of twisted smile he turned and went off round the corner to his car.