want to upset your husband by seeming to hog too much of your time. Thanks for helping. It’s appreciated.’
He stood and watched her walk away until she was quite out of sight.
Surprisingly, Hugh had been amazingly calm about the whole business. But then the party was in a good cause, and he clearly thought it quite safe to have his wife work with children. Sara was careful to be equally generous in her praise of his own war work. When she got back home on this occasion he was up in his office and she went straight to him and kissed the top of his head as he bent over his desk. ‘Hello, I’m back.’
He gave a little start of surprise. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. You seem to be making a habit of sneaking in quietly these days.’
Sara laughed as she put her arms about his neck to give him a hug. ‘Why, what are you doing that’s so secret? Writing to your mistress?’
He scowled, then his brow cleared and he laughed with her. ‘Can’t you ever take a joke, darling? I wasn’t really complaining, though some of us do have serious work to do.’
‘I know, there is a war on. well, whatever it is you’re engaged in, I promise I won’t breathe a word. My lips are sealed. But am I allowed to sit on your knee for a quick kiss and cuddle or would that break the official secrets act, do you think? I mean, have we time for a little passion, or should I just go and make tea?’
Hugh did not respond to her teasing banter but took the question at face value and answered with all due seriousness, as if surprised she should ask. ‘Tea, I should think. The children will be home soon and I really don’t have time for your silly games today, Sara.’
She tried not to feel rebuffed. ‘Right. I shall jump to it then. Whatever you say.’ He’d already turned away from her so didn’t see her mocking salute, all meant in light hearted fun, of course, but his indifference left her feeling rather flat and silly.
Sara couldn’t even see what it was he was working on with such earnestness, because he’d slid one hand over it, covering the writing. Always one for secrets, was Hugh. It was probably nothing more than his regular stock list for the brewery. What else could it be? But he had to make out that he was the only one who could understand such things, so that he felt in charge, even if she was the one to remind him when they were running low on beer or sherry, or whatever.
‘Anyway, I think this party is going to be absolutely splendid. Thank you for letting me help, darling.’
Hugh gave a non-committal grunt. ‘The war will be over by next Christmas, so it’s unlikely ever to happen again. You can concentrate on being a proper wife and mother once we finally achieve peace.’
‘Aren’t I one already?’
‘You know what I mean, darling.’
Sara wasn’t sure that she did. ‘Are you saying that once the war is over, I shall not be allowed to work in the pub even then?’
‘Goodness, I shall make that decision when the time comes. Tea, darling. Have you forgotten?’
For some reason Hugh’s assumption that he would decide made Sara feel uncomfortable, as if her future was being mapped out without her consent, as if she had no control over her own life, no say over what she might decide to do.
Perhaps it had been a mistake, after all, to ask his permission. He seemed to be doing his best to belittle her efforts yet Sara’s resolve to heed her sister’s advice and take control of her own life, as Bette did, as even Nora Snell did, was growing ever stronger.
Why did she always obey him? Perhaps because she wasn’t entirely sure that his feelings for her had any depth? Because she wanted to see some sign of emotion, some evidence that he truly cared? There were times when she felt that her husband merely saw her as a possession, like a pet dog, or his favourite mahogany clock.
‘Besides,’ he continued, his head still over the stock sheets or whatever the dratted papers were. ‘The
He stood and watched her walk away until she was quite out of sight.
Surprisingly, Hugh had been amazingly calm about the whole business. But then the party was in a good cause, and he clearly thought it quite safe to have his wife work with children. Sara was careful to be equally generous in her praise of his own war work. When she got back home on this occasion he was up in his office and she went straight to him and kissed the top of his head as he bent over his desk. ‘Hello, I’m back.’
He gave a little start of surprise. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. You seem to be making a habit of sneaking in quietly these days.’
Sara laughed as she put her arms about his neck to give him a hug. ‘Why, what are you doing that’s so secret? Writing to your mistress?’
He scowled, then his brow cleared and he laughed with her. ‘Can’t you ever take a joke, darling? I wasn’t really complaining, though some of us do have serious work to do.’
‘I know, there is a war on. well, whatever it is you’re engaged in, I promise I won’t breathe a word. My lips are sealed. But am I allowed to sit on your knee for a quick kiss and cuddle or would that break the official secrets act, do you think? I mean, have we time for a little passion, or should I just go and make tea?’
Hugh did not respond to her teasing banter but took the question at face value and answered with all due seriousness, as if surprised she should ask. ‘Tea, I should think. The children will be home soon and I really don’t have time for your silly games today, Sara.’
She tried not to feel rebuffed. ‘Right. I shall jump to it then. Whatever you say.’ He’d already turned away from her so didn’t see her mocking salute, all meant in light hearted fun, of course, but his indifference left her feeling rather flat and silly.
Sara couldn’t even see what it was he was working on with such earnestness, because he’d slid one hand over it, covering the writing. Always one for secrets, was Hugh. It was probably nothing more than his regular stock list for the brewery. What else could it be? But he had to make out that he was the only one who could understand such things, so that he felt in charge, even if she was the one to remind him when they were running low on beer or sherry, or whatever.
‘Anyway, I think this party is going to be absolutely splendid. Thank you for letting me help, darling.’
Hugh gave a non-committal grunt. ‘The war will be over by next Christmas, so it’s unlikely ever to happen again. You can concentrate on being a proper wife and mother once we finally achieve peace.’
‘Aren’t I one already?’
‘You know what I mean, darling.’
Sara wasn’t sure that she did. ‘Are you saying that once the war is over, I shall not be allowed to work in the pub even then?’
‘Goodness, I shall make that decision when the time comes. Tea, darling. Have you forgotten?’
For some reason Hugh’s assumption that he would decide made Sara feel uncomfortable, as if her future was being mapped out without her consent, as if she had no control over her own life, no say over what she might decide to do.
Perhaps it had been a mistake, after all, to ask his permission. He seemed to be doing his best to belittle her efforts yet Sara’s resolve to heed her sister’s advice and take control of her own life, as Bette did, as even Nora Snell did, was growing ever stronger.
Why did she always obey him? Perhaps because she wasn’t entirely sure that his feelings for her had any depth? Because she wanted to see some sign of emotion, some evidence that he truly cared? There were times when she felt that her husband merely saw her as a possession, like a pet dog, or his favourite mahogany clock.
‘Besides,’ he continued, his head still over the stock sheets or whatever the dratted papers were. ‘The
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