Free Avalanche of Daisies by Beryl Kingston Page A

would say I’m a fallen woman,’ she mused. It was a good description because that wonderful exploding feeling was just like falling. Not falling down and hurting yourself but falling up, asif you were flying through the sky, lifted up on great surging wings of pleasure. A fallen woman.
    The words upset him, because that was exactly what he’d been worrying about, that she’d feel sullied or ashamed, that she’d regret what they’d done. And he simply couldn’t allow that. Fallen women were the lowest of the low, the sort that went with anybody, the sort they made coarse jokes about after lights out. She was beautiful and pure and entirely his. ‘No you’re not,’ he said hotly. ‘You’re not to even think it. You’re my own dear, darling, beautiful, wonderful Spitfire and you’re going to marry me as soon as I can arrange it and stay with me for ever and ever.’
    Marriage hadn’t entered into her scheme of things at all until that moment. ‘We can’t get married,’ she said. ‘Can we?’
    But he was in command now, seeing everything with total clarity as if making love had sharpened his wits. ‘I’ve got seven days leave owing,’ he told her. ‘I been saving it up for when they move us to the ports. A last holiday, sort of thing. To say goodbye.’ That thought cast a shadow into his mind too so he shrugged it away at once and began to make detailed plans. ‘So. I’ll write to my mum and dad tonight and let them know, and then I’ll put in for my leave first thing tomorrow and we’ll call the banns, or whatever it is we have to do, tomorrow evening. I can wangle an hour or two after work so we can go together. It might be better to get a special licence and I expect we’ll need permission being under twenty-one. But that’ll just be an extra form to fill in. What do you think?’
    He was making her feel so protected and special that she could feel herself drifting into a sort of dreamy satisfaction. ‘Um,’ she said. ‘Yes.’ It was the right thing to do, the natural thing. They loved one another. They belonged to one another now. But she couldn’t take it in. Not fully. Not yet.
    He was busy making plans. ‘We’ll get a room or aflat or something. In Lynn probably. Then I can stay there whenever I get any leave. We’ll have our own bed and our own wireless and a shelf for our books. And we’ll cook our own food and have breakfast in bed …’
    â€˜Um.’
    â€˜Did I ought to see your father?’ he wondered. ‘Ask his permission sort of thing? That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it?’
    That question woke her up. ‘No,’ she said. That wouldn’t do at all. ‘Let me tell Ma first. He can be pretty horrible when he likes. We don’ want him hollerin’.’
    He allowed that but pointed out, ‘He’ll have to be told.’
    â€˜I’ll work him round to it,’ she promised. ‘He’s at sea at the moment so we can’t tell him yet anyway.’
    He kissed her gently and lovingly. It was all possible. One short ceremony and they could be together whenever they liked. Until he had to go to France. But there was no point in thinking about that. ‘That’s settled then,’ he said, smiling into her lovely green eyes. ‘I’ll arrange it. I’ll write to my mum tonight and we’ll tell your mum when we’ve called the banns. It’ll be a piece of cake.’

Chapter Five
    â€˜It’s a joke,’ Heather Wilkins said, holding out the letter to her husband in disbelief. Her nose was sharp with distress, her mouth downturned. ‘He’s having us on. He must be. He
can’t
be getting married. He’d’ve said something before. I mean, you don’t just write to your mother out the blue and say you’re going to get married. We