Threads of Silk by Roberta Grieve Page B

herself that Ellie was sensible enough not to get into any trouble, but she couldn’t help worrying that she’d come under the influence of the wrong sort of people. And if her younger daughter ended up the same way as Sheila she would never forgive herself.

     
    Harry was looking forward to returning to England but he was beginning to wish he hadn’t been so hasty in agreeing to sign on as a regular. It had seemed the right thing at the time. He’d get a marriage allowance and married quarters and be able to provide for Gerda.
    Now it had all gone wrong and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. As usual he had arranged to meet Gerda at the beer cellar where they’d originally met. He’d been kept late at the barracks and arrived to find her sitting on someone’s lap, laughing and pouring beer down his throat. As he pushed his way through the crowded bar he saw her take a swig from the stein.
    She shouldn’t be drinking while she was pregnant. He grabbed her arm and she looked round at him, the laughter draining from her face. ‘Oh, Harry,
liebchen
, I thought you weren’t coming.’ She pouted. She scrambled off the other soldier’s lap and put her arms round him. ‘I thought you had deserted me.’
    ‘I couldn’t help being late.’ He bit his lip to stop the angry outburst. He knew Gerda liked to have fun and there was no harm in a little flirtation. After all, it was him she loved – hadn’t she said so over and over?
    She stroked his cheek and kissed him. ‘You’re not cross with your Gerda?’
    He could smell the beer on her breath. ‘No, of course not. But you shouldn’t drink so much. Think about the baby.’
    She threw back her head and laughed. ‘No baby. Was a mistake. Silly mistake, Harry.’
    He felt a churning in his stomach. No baby. The wedding was set for the following week, the arrangements brought forward when his posting came through. Was it too late to back out?
    She noticed his expression and frowned. ‘We still get married, no? You take me to England with you?’
    He forced a smile. ‘Of course. I don’t go back on my word.’
    But as the evening wore on, Gerda drank more and more and she began to flirt with his mates. Harry told himself it was the relief of discovering she wasn’t pregnant after all. But he couldn’t help wondering whether she was really ready for married life on an army base.
    When he returned from getting more drinks she was once more sitting on someone else’s lap and he felt another surge of anger. He slammed down the beer steins and pushed his way towards the door. As he turned back at the foot of the stairs leading to the street he saw that she hadn’t even noticed he was gone.
    Back at the barracks he threw himself down on his bed, cursing himself for a fool. He’d known right from the start that getting involved with Gerda was a mistake. But he wasn’t one to shirk his responsibilities and he’d thought he was doing the right thing. She hadn’t been too bothered about him leaving so abruptly, but would she feel differently when she sobered up? He hardly dared to think he’d be let off the hook so easily. He sighed. How naïve he’d been, thinking she loved him. Had the supposed pregnancy been just a way to trap him?
    As the men who shared his billet returned from their evening out he pretended to be asleep. Some of them had been in the beer cellar and seen Gerda’s behaviour. He couldn’t put up with their snide remarks.
    Thank goodness he’d be away from here soon. He smiled at the thought of a few days’ leave before going to his new posting in Kent. Now he could look forward to seeing Ellie with a clear conscience. Would she be as pleased to see him? Or would her head be so full of art college that she hadn’t got time for him?

     
    Harry swung his kitbag on to his shoulder and strode down the platform at Liverpool Street station. As he stood on the escalator, breathing in the hot, stale smell of the Underground, he could