Free Guarded Passions by Rosie Harris Page B

outsider and wished Gary had been there to support him.
    As soon as the wedding date had been fixed, he’d written to Gary, inviting him to the wedding, only to get a letter the next morning which read: ‘Just spent 48 hours embarkation leave in London. See you when I get back.’ Now it might be months, or even years, before Gary and Helen would meet.
    As the meal finally came to an end, he hoped Dr Price wouldn’t make a speech. All he wanted was for the three of them to disappear so that he could spend every second that remained of his leave alone with Helen. The longer he was in Dr Price’s company the more he sensed that he not only didn’t approve of Helen getting married so young, but he didn’t endorse her choice of husband either.
    â€˜I’m not at all the sort of son-in-law your father would have wished to have,’ he murmured to Helen later that evening when they were finally alone in the huge bedroom, with its massive four-poster and dark, walnut furniture.
    â€˜Rubbish. Anyway, he’ll soon get used to you. How could anyone help but love you,’ she teased, running her fingers through his thick hair and drawing his head closer so that she could feast her mouth on his.
    â€˜That’s not the point,’ he told her, pulling back and walking across to the window. He drew aside the thickly lined curtains and stared out across the blacked-out city to where the cathedral spire pointed a sharp, admonishing finger skywards.
    â€˜I think he is disappointed. I have no career prospects, you know. I am sure he would have been a lot happier if you’d married someone from your own social stratum …’
    â€˜Social stratum … what’s that? We live in a democracy; you are fighting for your country; we are all fighting for survival. Without people like you there would be no future for my father or any of his wealthy friends and patients,’ she declared indignantly.
    â€˜That may be …’
    â€˜Adam!’ The sharpness of her tone made him wince. ‘What are we doing arguing about such matters on our wedding night!’
    â€˜You’re right!’ He whisked shut the heavy curtains, quickly checking to see there were no gaps that would allow any light to escape before switching on the bedside lights and holding out his hands to Helen.
    â€˜Come on, Mrs Woodley,’ he invited, ‘we’ve less than forty-eight hours to get to know each other.’
    From that moment their honeymoon was idyllic, though the few precious hours seemed to pass in a flash.
    They made love, they dreamed and planned the future they would have together when the war was finally over. And, on the last morning they talked about the baby Helen was expecting.
    â€˜Do you want a boy or girl?’ she asked.
    â€˜Well …’ he considered the question carefully, ‘… a girl if she’s going to look like you, with thick brown hair and dove-grey eyes.’
    â€˜And if it’s a boy then he must look like you, with brilliantly blue eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair, and when he grows up he’ll have a firm jawline, just like this one,’ she told him as her fingers moved caressingly over his chin.
    â€˜No.’ He captured her hand, imprisoning it in his own. ‘If it’s a boy, I’d want him to look like my brother Gary.’
    â€˜Well, you said he had blue eyes.’
    â€˜So he has, but his hair isn’t like mine. It’s a rich, coppery colour, just like our mother’s was. I wish he’d been able to come to our wedding. You’d like him. He’s great fun …’
    â€˜Quite your favourite person …’
    â€˜Next to you!’
    â€˜Perhaps the baby won’t be like any of us. Look how different Mum and Aunt Julia are – and they’re sisters. There’s only three years age difference, yet Mum seems years and years older than Aunt Julia. I think it might have