A whistle blew and Becky noticed a guard check his watch. Guy leaned forward, brushed her cheek with his lips, then suddenly turned away. She watched him as he stepped quickly onto the train, never once looking back, while all she could think of was their naked bodies lodged together in that tiny bed and Guy saying, “I’ll always love you. You know that, don’t you?”
A final whistle blew and a green flag was waved. Becky stood quite alone. She shivered from the gust of wind that came as the engine wound its snakelike path out of the station and began its journey to Southampton. The giggling girls also departed, but in another direction, towards their hansom cabs and chauffeur-driver cars.
Becky walked over to a booth on the corner of platform seven, purchased a copy of The Times for two pence, and checked, first quickly, then slowly, down the list of forthcoming weddings.
From Arbuthnot to Yelland there was no mention of a Trentham, or a Salmon.
CHAPTER
10
Even before the first course had been served Becky regretted accepting Charlie’s invitation to dinner at Mr. Scallini’s, the only restaurant he knew. Charlie was trying so hard to be considerate, which only made her feel more guilty.
“I like your dress,” he said, admiring the pastel-colored frock she had borrowed from Daphne’s wardrobe.
“Thank you.”
A long pause followed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have thought twice before inviting you out the same day as Captain Trentham was leaving for India.”
“Our engagement will be announced in The Times tomorrow,” she said, not looking up from her untouched bowl of soup.
“Congratulations,” said Charlie without feeling.
“You don’t like Guy, do you?”
“I never was much good with officers.”
“But your paths had crossed during the war. In fact, you knew him before I did, didn’t you?” said Becky without warning. Charlie didn’t reply, so she added, “I sensed it the first time we all had dinner together.”
“‘Knew him’ would be an exaggeration,” said Charlie. “We served in the same regiment, but until that night we’d never eaten at the same table.”
“But you fought in the same war.”
“Along with four thousand other men from our regiment,” said Charlie, refusing to be drawn.
“And he was a brave and respected officer?”
A waiter appeared uninvited by their side. “What would you like to drink with your fish, sir?”
“Champagne,” said Charlie. “After all, we do have something to celebrate.”
“Do we?” said Becky, unaware that he had used the ploy simply to change the subject.
“Our first year’s results. Or have you forgotten that Daphne’s already been paid back more than half her loan?”
Becky managed a
smile, realizing that while she had been worrying about Guy’s departure for India, Charlie had been concentrating on solving her other problem. But despite this news the evening continued in silence, occasionally punctuated with comments from Charlie that didn’t always receive a reply. She occasionally sipped the champagne, toyed with her fish, ordered no dessert and could barely hide her relief when the bill was eventually presented.
Charlie paid the waiter and left a handsome tip. Daphne would have been proud of him, Becky thought.
As she rose from her chair, she felt the room starting to go round in circles.
“Are you all right?” asked Charlie, placing an arm around her shoulder.
“I’m fine, just fine,” said Becky. “I’m not used to drinking so much wine two nights in a row.”