Bad Girls Good Women (32 page)

She felt that she had stepped,
satisfyingly, into
one
of
her own dreams.

There had been a wonderful banquet at the hotel. They had sat down at long white tables glowing with candles in branched candelabra. After the food and wine there had been speeches, speeches that had seemed funny even to Julia. There had been a toast to the race winners, a special toast to Josh that had made her glow with pride all over again. Julia was wearing Mattie’s greeny-black party dress, far too big for her around the hips and bosom, but Belinda and Sophia had pinned and stitched her into it in the latest demonstration of their new-found friendship. Julia had received enough flattering glances and invitations to dance to make her feel that even if she didn’t belong she could at least cope on her own terms. The champagne was flowing, but Julia was used to drinking at Jessie’s and Mattie’s pace, and the wine simply made her feel that she was floating on a warm tide of happiness.

And there was Josh. Josh with his black bow tie and his white starched shirt, his blond hair watered so that it lay smooth and dark, as correct as any of the Englishmen. Yet somehow wicked as well. The hero and the villain, infinitely more intriguing, all at once.

Julia laid her head against his black shoulder and sighed.

She knew that it was the most perfect evening of her life.

Josh lifted her chin with one finger so that he could look at her. ‘Are you tired?’

‘No. I want to go on dancing for ever.’

‘Mmm. Not quite for ever, perhaps. D’you remember that place that Harry took us to? The night we met?’

Julia remembered it, and she remembered how they had danced then, fused together, making a promise that was still unfulfilled.

The thought struck a white-hot bolt of longing straight through her.

Her feet tangled with Josh’s and they stood still in the swirling sea of dancers.

‘I think we should go upstairs now,’ Josh whispered.

Julia bent her head, unable to say,
yes please
, and he kissed the thin, warm skin over her temple before they slipped out of the crowded room and left the music soaring behind them.

They ran up the stairs and along the shadowy corridor to Josh’s room, laughing and whispering like children playing truant. But when he had unlocked his door and locked it again behind them the stillness and quiet stifled their laughter. There was a bright white moon in the star-prickled sky, and pale silver-grey squares lay over the floor in front of them. With Josh’s fingers wound in hers Julia went to the window and looked down. She saw the shallow roofs of the little wooden houses under their thick folds of snow. The streets were empty and the village lay in its silver cup with the mountains raising their heads against the stars.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Julia said. And then, reaching awkwardly for the words, ‘I’m so happy tonight. It feels strange.’

‘It shouldn’t be so strange,’ Josh told her.

They turned away from the window and faced each other. They kissed, tasting each other out of hunger, suddenly greedy. It seemed a long time, infinitely too long, since the nightclub in London with Mattie and Harry Gilbert.

Josh’s hand touched the bodice of her dress.

‘May I?’ he asked, and she nodded. He couldn’t find how to undo it and she told him, ‘I’m stitched into it.’

Josh groaned and they were laughing all over again as they pulled at the dress. In the end they tore it off her. Julia stood in her stockings and suspenders while Josh looked at her. They had forgotten the cottage in the woods, and everything else except the grey and silver room, and this moment. Josh unhooked her stockings and rolled them down, and kissed the exposed white skin of her thighs. He kissed her belly, slowly tracing downwards with his tongue, and then he turned her around and touched his mouth to her shoulders and the long furrow of her spine.

Julia’s back arched. ‘Josh.’

He picked her up and put her on his bed. She sank down into the feathery Swiss mattress and the feather coverlet billowed luxuriously around her. She lay in her white nest, watching as Josh undid the ribbon of his black tie. He took the studs out of his shirtfront and the starched wings crackled. As he turned, barechested, Julia saw the vicious dark bruises down one side of his body. She jerked upright, her hair falling around her face, and he looked back at her. His face changed at the sight of her and she was suddenly almost frightened.

‘You’re hurt,’ she whispered.

He was beside her, leaning over her, and she felt the heat of him.

‘The snow fell on me,’ he told her. His mouth closed on her breast. Julia’s head dropped back and she shuddered. Josh struggled out of the rest of his clothes.

‘Isn’t it painful?’ Julia asked innocently. He leaned over her now, and she glimpsed the old, mocking Josh.

‘Tomorrow, I won’t be able to move. But tonight, who gives a goddam?’

He lay down beside her and they reached out for each other, smiling. It seemed very simple to Julia. There was only Josh, and Josh was all she wanted. Her arms locked triumphantly around his neck.

‘Are you sure you want to?’ Josh whispered. ‘The first time …’

‘It isn’t the first time. I went to bed with Felix. The day of Jessie’s funeral.’

He lifted his head to look at her. ‘Is that so? That surprises me, a little.’

‘We were both so sad. It was very sad too. It didn’t work very well.’ She thought of Felix, left alone in the flat waiting for his call-up. He seemed close, important. ‘But it made us better friends.’

‘I’m glad,’ Josh said.

She knew that he meant he was glad she was friends with Felix, that he didn’t have to take the responsibility for the first time, that she was here with him now. If there was anything missing, Julia willed herself not to notice it.

‘I think it will be better for you and me,’ Josh murmured.

His hands stroked her, teasing her, and there was no need to say any more. Julia closed her eyes and this time there was no interruption, nothing except the muffled, unheard music of the little string orchestra and the unseen silver light.

Josh was as thorough and as expert at love-making as at everything else. He was generous, too, and he found that his gentleness drew from Julia’s narrow body an intensity that he had never dreamed of.

Julia hardly knew her own body. Betty’s influence had been strong enough to make sure of that. But what Josh did seemed so natural, surprising at first and then essential. She was amazed to discover that he did it without embarrassment, only humour and tenderness, and she responded to him as he guided her. Their bodies wound together, shiny and supple, and the squares of moonlight crept over the floor.

In the Swann Hotel ballroom the violins played the last waltz and the English skiers joined hands for ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Julia and Josh didn’t hear the singing or the cheering.

At last, when he could lead her no further, Julia’s head fell back and she cried out, one long, silent cry. The discovery was made. The enormous simplicity of it, the depth of satisfaction, left her peacefully rocking like a boat on a wide, spangled sea. She turned and looked into Josh’s eyes. Her mouth curved and he touched it with the tips of his fingers.

Beneath their window the dancers were streaming out of the hotel and lights glimmered on the snow. Julia and Josh lay quite still in one another’s arms, almost shy now, faintly awed by what they had created between them.

‘Thank you,’ Josh said gravely.

Julia was so happy that she wanted to laugh. The feathers from the white coverlet tickled her throat and suddenly she was shaking with it. Josh laughed too, rolling her over and over in the mounds of the mattress and kissing her face and her neck and her breasts. They clung together and Julia rested her head on his chest.

‘I didn’t think it would be like that,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t think it would be so … important. I love you, Josh.’ Her eyes shone and her face was suddenly wet with tears. Josh stroked her hair. He was looking at the navy-blue square of the window, and he didn’t see her face.

There was snow outside the window, and he remembered the race. The Inferno medal was still pinned to his ski-jumper. Josh grinned in the darkness. Julia was in his bed, with her long legs wound round him and the fresh apple-scent of her skin caught in the feather folds. He had enjoyed making love to Julia more than anyone else he could remember. Her pleasure, the surprising strength of it, had made his own much keener. Josh felt himself harden again at the thought of it.

He turned and buried his face in her hair.

‘I love you too,’ Josh said.

Later, Julia asked him, ‘No Frau Uberl’s?’

Drowsily Josh said, ‘Nope. No Frau Uberl’s. I guess I’m popular enough tonight for even Tuffy Brockway to turn a blind eye to immorality. So you see, honey, ski-racing does have its uses after all.’

In the morning, Julia woke up first. She lay looking at the duck-egg-blue sky and thinking,
this is being happy. Here and now. If I could take hold of this moment, and keep it …

Josh stirred beside her, and groaned. He opened his eyes and saw Julia leaning over him. Her dark hair brushed his face.

‘I told you I wouldn’t be able to move.’

Julia lifted the covers and inspected his bruises.

‘Hmm. Looks nasty. But you don’t seem to be too badly damaged elsewhere.’

‘That’s luck.’

Julia grinned. Then she lifted her hips and gently slid her body over his.

‘Would you like me to move for you?’

‘Yes, please,’ Josh said.

It was long past breakfast-time at Frau Uberl’s when Julia skidded back through the snow to the chalet. The hem of Mattie’s dress was bunched up under her coat, but Julia felt that her evening slippers were painfully conspicuous to the ski-booted crowds. She reached the gate of the chalet and slipped in through the front door and up the stairs. In her room all four beds looked identically slept in, and Frau Uberl’s maid was polishing the floor under Felicity’s. Julia shot her a dazzling smile, grabbed her ski-clothes, and fled to the bathroom to change. Sophia was hovering there, white-faced after her evening of champagne and army officers. They eyed each other, and then Julia held out her hand.

None of them was like Mattie, but Josh was right. They were nice, friendly girls.

‘Thanks,’ Julia said.

Sophia nodded and weakly shook hands. ‘We guessed you wouldn’t be in. We rolled in your bed and told the Frau you’d gone out early to the slopes. She looked so pleased that you were getting keen at last, it was quite touching.’ Sophia peered at her, but she was clearly feeling too ill to be envious. ‘What about you? Are you all right?’

‘Never better.’

Sophia shuddered and gripped the edge of the basin. ‘Wish I could say the same.’

Julia patted her back. ‘What you need is Mattie Banner’s patent hangover cure. I’ll get you a glass.’

Innocent in her ski-clothes, Julia ran downstairs to the girls’ sitting room. A tray of drinks was kept on the sideboard for them to offer to their visitors, and Julia had seen a bottle of vodka lurking behind the sherry. She sloshed tomato juice on top of a generous slug of it and bore the glass into the kitchen. Assuring Frau Uberl that the English often resorted to it when they required a really nourishing snack after violent exercise, she added a beaten egg. Under Felix’s tutelage, Mattie insisted on celery salt for her own concoction. There was nothing of the kind in Frau Uberl’s cupboard so Julia put in a liberal dash of Tabasco sauce and carried the result up to Sophia.

She put the glass into her shaking hand.

‘Here you are. It’s kill or cure, actually.’

Sophia gulped it down. ‘Oh, God.’

In Sophia’s case it was cure. Fifteen minutes later the girls were in a café, facing each other over mugs of hot chocolate.

‘So you stayed the night with Josh?’ Sophia narrowed her eyes against her cigarette smoke, a woman of the world.

Julia nodded. It was snug in the café, and missing Mattie to confide in, she blurted out, ‘It was the first time.’

Sophia stared at her, unable to keep hold of her veneer of knowingness. ‘What was it like?’

Julia remembered asking Mattie, in the same words, on top of the bus from Euston Station.
It was all right
, Mattie had said. Only that. Because of the dreadful-sounding man she had chosen?
Oh, Mattie
, Julia thought. And then she looked over the rim of her cup into Sophia’s prominent pale-blue eyes.

‘It was wonderful,’ she said, with perfect honesty.

After that, Julia found that she enjoyed Wengen as much as Josh had promised her she would. With the Inferno safely behind him he was free to ski with her, and under Josh’s instruction Julia blossomed. It was as if something profound had happened to her body. Her knees flexed of their own accord, and her rigid spine melted. Her skis were no longer flat, heavy boards that tangled and crossed and wilfully tripped her up. They grew sharp edges that hissed delightfully through the snow and even, one magical afternoon, carried her all the way down the hated nursery slope in a series of elegant arcs.

‘Hey.’ Josh caught her cheeks between his gloved hands. ‘You can do it.’

Julia beamed back at him. ‘You’re right. I can do it.’

In that successful instant she had caught a glimpse, at last, of what they were all so mad about.

Josh took her on the little train, on upwards from Wengen to Kleine Scheidegg, right under the blue and grey pyramid of the Eiger. With Josh’s broad, blue shoulders reassuringly just ahead of her, she skied all the way down again.

‘You can ski,’ he told her. ‘You may not make a flier, but you can damn well ski.’

Julia was so glowingly proud of herself, and so pretty, that he wanted to undo her ridiculous parka and make love to her there and then on the icy piste that led down into Inner Wengen.

There were no more nights in the Swann Hotel, but there were afternoons as the skiers crossed through the snow under their window, calling to one another, and the white light faded gently to blue and then to grey as soft as the duck feathers that escaped from their covers.