O Love! O Fire!

by Denise Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

Candy Kavell loves Rupert as she has never loved before ? passionately and completely. But no matter how many times Rupert assures her of his love, Candy knows deep within her heart he doesn?t feel as she does. Rupert is far from ready for the responsibilities of marriage. So how will he react when he discovers Candy is carrying their child? The uncertainty is transforming her ecstasy of love into a nightmare of despair!

Release date: February 27, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

Candida Kavell—more commonly known to her friends as Candy—fitted the key into the door of her little flat and stepped across the threshold into the miniature hall. The door slammed behind her in the sudden draught startling her out of a day-dream. She walked into the sitting-room and viewed the unlit fire, shivering. The closed door and the chill of the room seemed to drain all the warmth from her body—and suddenly that other, special, golden warmth—from her heart.

Hurriedly she took off her coat, knelt down and put a match to the newspaper. She watched the flames gathering as the kindling caught, then the coal. She spread out her hands to the little blaze and tried to recapture the feeling of happiness—the glow she had felt when she was with Rupert during lunch. But it had gone. Her large brown eyes clouded. She sank into an armchair, feeling a sudden pang of acute loneliness.

Her first thought just now had been—we can’t get all the coal we want these days. I must be more careful—

Then all thoughts save those connected with Rupert vanished.

It was always like this when she was not actually with him. As soon as she was alone, doubts, worries, panic crowded into her mind destroying all the force of his persuasions, his reasoning, her own longing to comply with his wishes.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair.

“Oh, Rupert, Rupert!” she whispered. “If only I loved you less.”

“If you really loved me as much as you say you do, you wouldn’t hesitate!” Rupert had said.

Was he right? Was she being unnecessarily old-fashioned? Prudish? Many of her friends nowadays had had or were having affairs; nor could she excuse her reluctance to do as Rupert wished because she had relations, friends who might be affected by her actions. No, there was nothing to stop her but her own feelings in the matter.

Restlessly, Candy rose from her chair and wandered into her bedroom. It was a pretty room—furnished simply but with taste and originality. Her home was the pride of Candy’s life and usually a quick glance around it would give her a steady glow of satisfaction. But not to-day. Ever since she realised she was in love with Rupert, she knew there was something missing from her home. His coat, his Service cap, his pipe, and most of all himself.

‘I was lucky to find this place,’ she told herself, studying the soft peach-coloured walls and matching bedcover and curtains. ‘There must be many girls just out of the Services who can’t find a flat at all, let alone a place as compact and convenient as this.’

But she could not destroy the steadily increasing desolation that was gathering her into a cloud of depression. Nothing could destroy it. No one could remove it but Rupert. And Rupert could not … or would not ask her to marry him.

Could not, or would not. Perhaps a little of each. For one thing, Rupert was being released from the Air Force in a few months’ time and had no civilian job to go to. Nor had he any private means. Until he found work, he would have to live on his gratuities and the little he had saved during the war from his flying pay. He could not afford to get married. … And yet, did he want to marry her?

Candy was not altogether convinced that he did. He loved her. She was more or less sure of that, but the question remained—did he love her enough to give up his much prized freedom for her? Was that the reason he did not ask her to marry him, or did Rupert genuinely feel that he had no right to ask her until he could afford to keep her?

Yet he must have known from her careful hints that she would not mind living precariously for a while. After all, she was earning quite good money as an artist; doing illustrations for children’s books. She could well afford to keep herself and pay the rent of this small flat with a little to spare. If Rupert wanted a job in town, they could go on living here and it was a well-known fact that two could live as cheaply as one …

Candy flung her coat and hat on the bed, and went back to the sitting-room. The telephone, white, shining, was an immediate temptation. She had only to dial three letters and four numbers, and she would hear Rupert’s voice, warm, loving, reassuring. But she hesitated, nevertheless. Sometimes he was busy in the office and although he always told her that he was thrilled to hear her voice, she had sensed a faint withdrawal in his tone. She had become so sensitive lately to every remark he made, so over-eager to be reassured by his love, that even so indefinite a slight could send her into a fresh panic, fresh despair.

‘I’m a bundle of nerves!’ Candy reproved herself. ‘I’ve got to snap out of this or something is going to fall to pieces inside me. I’m even morose with Rupert sometimes, and that isn’t the way to attract a man you want to marry.’

Candy opened the large cardboard folder she had dropped by the armchair, and spread the sheets of drawing-paper on her table. She picked up a manuscript and read it through without understanding what she read. Her mind was concentrated exclusively on Rupert, on the problem of what she would say to him next time he asked her. …

“We can’t go on as we are, darling!” he had said. “It’s far too much of a strain on us both.”

Candy knew he was right. Neither of them was satisfied any longer with a long good-night embrace, snatched handclasps in crowded places, passionate, unsettling, disturbing kisses. Since they had met four months ago, they had covered a good deal of ground, and the instant spark of attraction that had flared between them the moment they had met had inevitably grown into a burning, searing flame of desire.

Something virginal in Candy’s make-up shied at the very word. She knew it was stupid and yet she could not help that instinctive curling up inside herself at the sound of it. It had been too much bandied about—had become too hackneyed to have any beauty left in it, and to Candy, sex and love between men and women were beautiful things requiring no verbal expression. Or if it must be talked about, then bravely, frankly but sensitively.

Although it was not as long ago as seven years, Candy remembered in detail every second of that brief, bitter-sweet honeymoon in Cornwall with Timothy Kavell, her boy-husband. She had been seventeen, Tim twenty, and they had grown up together as childhood companions, their two families living next door to one another in the country. Both of them only children, they had sought each other out, sharing everything, adoring each other. The day war broke out, Tim left Oxford and came straight home, stopping in London long enough to volunteer for the Army. Even before he had told his own family, he was asking Candy’s aunt and uncle for their permission to marry her, and Aunt Rose, remembering her own tender youth and the succeeding years of happiness with Uncle Ken, had given the necessary permission.

Candy, knowing only that her cherished Tim was going to war, gave in readily to everything he suggested, and within a week they were married and spending the few days before Tim’s calling up, honey-mooning in Cornwall.

They had had ten days and ten nights together before they were parted, and one brief forty-eight hours during Tim’s embarkation leave. That was the last time she saw him. Ten months later he was killed in the retreat at Dunkirk.

‘Perhaps,’ thought Candy suddenly, ‘if I had not known what it meant to love and be loved I should not feel as I do about Rupert.’ She knew now that her love for Tim, although real and sincere, had nevertheless been that of an immature young girl. Now, at twenty-four, she had really fallen in love completely and absolutely. There had been no one since Tim, partly because she had taken several years to recover from the shock of his death, partly because she could never be satisfied with a light, casual flirtation. It must be love or nothing for her—always. And now Rupert had come into her life, confirming her instinctive belief that it was worth waiting for the real thing.

A smile touched the corner of her lips as she relived their first meeting. It had been at a literary cocktail party. Rupert’s father was a well-known novelist and he had taken Rupert along with him for the experience and interest it might afford him. The publisher for whom Candy was working at the time had invited her to accompany him in order to help forward her career. It so happened that he was the man who published Mr. Marsdon’s books.

“I’d like to introduce Mrs. Candida Kavell,” he said.

Mr. Marsdon had shaken her hand, saying:

“My son will be greatly surprised. He told me he expected all the clever-clever girls would be thin, scraggy, brainy and wearing glasses! I had a job to convince him there were bound to be some pretty ones about. Ah! He’s coming over to us.”

Raising her eyes Candy saw a tall, lithe figure in R.A.F. uniform striding towards them, a cheerful grin of anticipation on his handsome, sunburnt face. She felt a little bubble of laughter surge up inside her, a queer sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, Father! So you were right!” Rupert had said. “Will you introduce us?”

“Candida … I didn’t catch the other name,” Mr. Marsdon said with a smile.

“Kavell, Candida Kavell!” Candy said, holding out her hand.

“I’m Rupert!”

Their eyes had met and they had laughed suddenly and unaccountably like two excited children. Tactfully, Mr. Marsdon drew his publisher to one side and opened a conversation.

“Cigarette?”

Candy took one from Rupert’s sleek, rolled silver case, and watched his long thin fingers striking a match.

‘Nice fingers,’ she had thought. ‘I’d like to draw his hands.’

“You’ve finished your drink. Wait here and don’t dare move until I come back.”

She had waited, knowing that she hadn’t had the slightest intention of moving away from him.

Presently he reappeared and handed her a glass of sherry. Candy lifted her left hand to take the glass, and as she raised it to him, their eyes met again and she saw that his were no longer laughing, but clouded with disappointment.

“Anything wrong?” she had asked.

“No! I … did you say Mrs. Kavell?”

He stressed the ‘Mrs.,’ and Candy knew immediately that he had seen Tim’s thin gold wedding ring on her finger.

“Yes!” she said simply. And in order to avoid any embarrassment which might result from further questions, she added quietly, “My husband was killed at Dunkirk.”

“I’m sorry!” Rupert had said and although she had sensed his relief at finding she was single, she also knew that his sympathy was genuine and sincere.

There had been a moment’s silence, then Rupert had laughed—that sudden excited nervous laugh of his—and said:

“My father seems busy talking to some old geyser. Let’s slip away and find somewhere to dine and dance.”

“That old geyser is my publisher and he invited me to the cocktail party!” Candy had replied with mock severity.

Rupert only grinned.

“Then we’ll ask his permission!” he said promptly. And before Candy could give an assent, he had interrupted his father’s conversation and was speaking earnestly to the publisher. Candy could not hear what they were saying but she saw the two older men laugh, nod their heads, and then Rupert was back, his blue-grey eyes sparkling with a little devil of mischief in them.

“All set!” he had said. “Now where shall we go?”

“Anywhere you like!” Candy replied. And she had known then that she meant it. She would go anywhere with Rupert. On half an hour’s acquaintance, she was ready to follow him to the other end of the earth if he asked her to go. It was a genuine case of love at first sight.

‘I never believed there was such a thing before I met Rupert,’ she told herself now. Since then her days had been filled with excitement, interest and a passionate awareness of life and the glory of living. Rupert had done that for her. Even queueing at the shops and house-work were no longer so dreadful if she was preparing for Rupert’s tea, or cleaning the flat before he came in for a drink before supper.

But in spite of all her happiness, there was still the one remaining problem. A month ago, Rupert had told her he loved her. He had dropped her outside the flat after an evening out, and shutting off the engine of his car, he had enfolded her in his arms and said:

“Oh! Candy, I do love you … so very very much.”

But he had not asked her to marry him.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he will! Candy convinced herself as she stood in front of her little mirror. She gazed with satisfaction at the rich glow in her cheeks, the twin stars in her dark brown eyes, and the sheen of her rich, sleek brown hair in the soft rosy light of her dressing-table lamp. With surprise, she saw that she was almost beautiful.

‘It is because I’m in love!’ she told herself happily.

But Candy could never pass unnoticed even without that sparkle which her highly emotional state had lent her. Her legs were long and slim; her body supple, feminine but firm and youthful in its strength. She carried herself beautifully and her artist’s hands were long and tapered. Her eyes were set wide apart in an oval face; her nose slightly tip-tilted but not enough to give her an air of pertness. A first impression of Candy left a feeling of grace, gentleness, courage, character. Only on closer inspection could one glimpse the humour behind those soft, velvet brown eyes; the provocativeness of her nose and short upper-lip.

There was no laughter in Candy’s eyes as she gave up the idea of work and went into her tiny kitchen to make a cup of tea. Only worry and an unusual pallor in her cheeks, a lassitude which suggested sleepless nights. For Rupert had not asked her to marry him, the next day, or the next. Only the following week did he mention his feelings for her again, and then he had said:

“I can’t go on like this much longer, Candy. I’m in love with you. I’m crazy about you. I want more than just your kisses. Can’t I come back to your flat tonight?”

She had not been annoyed or insulted because she, too, longed for more than just his embrace. But she had been hurt and Rupert had known it.

“Look, darling,” he tried to explain. “Please don’t start thinking that I don’t respect you any more, or that I’m just out for some fun, or any damn fool thing like that. I’m serious about you—more serious than I’ve ever been in my life about any woman. I love you and I want you like hell. It’s natural—just nature, that’s all. You do understand?”

Yes, Candy had understood, but she had withdrawn from his embrace, afraid lest his ardour should overrule her self-made barriers. She loved Rupert desperately, wanting him as much as he wanted her, but deep down inside her she knew her heart’s desire was more than an affair, a casual interlude. She wanted a husband and children.

She tried to explain to him, leaving out any mention of marriage but Rupert had not guessed at her feelings.

“A casual affair!” he had repeated. “Good lord, Candy, I’m not suggesting such a thing. That would be an insult. It’s not just a night or two I want with you—it’s every night … always!”

“Always!” Candy had echoed, her heart soaring in happiness. “Then, Rupert, let’s get married right away, tomorrow. I don’t mind how soon …”

She left the sentence unfinished, seeing the expression on his face.

“I can’t marry just yet,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “You see, darling, when I get my bowler hat next September, I’ve got to find a job in civvy street. I’ve not got one waiting for me, you know. Father has offered to give me an allowance until I get going, but, of course, I won’t accept it, much as I appreciate his generosity. I’m a firm believer in independence. Be beholden to no one, is my motto. I want freedom, and independence is the only way to achieve it. Damn it, I’ve spent the last six years fighting for freedom. Now I’m going to enjoy it …”

Freedom! The word sang in her ears as Candy listened to the hiss of the gas under the kettle. Financial freedom or freedom from ties did he mean? She did not know what was in Rupert’s mind and she could not ask him. That was one of the penalties of being a woman. It was not for her to take the initiative and no one knew better than she did that if Rupert wanted to marry her eventually, he would ask her.

Candy poured the boiling water into the tea-pot and carried the tray through to the sitting-room.

‘If only I were sure Rupert would marry me one day, I’d live with him now,’ she thought. ‘If he’d ask me to get engaged, then it would be all right. Lots of people believe in trying out marriage before they tie themselves up for life. It’s possibly a good idea but …’

Always there were ‘buts.’ Apart from her reluctance to live ‘in sin’ as it was commonly called, Candy knew that something else was stopping her. She was afraid. Yes, afraid that in drawing closer to Rupert she would inevitably grow even fonder of him than she was now—if it were possible. And she was sure it would be so. The shared intimacies must affect a relationship. She was for this very reason contemplating the possibility that by sharing her life with Rupert, he might also grow fonder of her and discover that marriage need not necessarily mean an end to freedom, but a joint sharing of it.

On the other hand, he might tire of her and leave her and then she would suffer in the same way, perhaps even more, than she had done when Tim was killed.

Candy felt utterly exhausted by this prolonged fight between her reasoning powers and her emotions. It seemed as if those very emotions were doing their best to confuse her mentality. Something deep down inside her prompted her to wonder if perhaps she was a coward; afraid of taking a gamble; afraid of losing Rupert’s love; and of what people might think of her.

Reasoning again, Candy knew that friends and acquaintances would not say much since it was unlikely anyone would know if she did give way to Rupert. Even if he came to live in the flat with her, there were no close neighbours. Her tiny apartment was situated over a garage in a mews, and she did not know the people on either side. The office would certainly not know, and dear old Uncle Ken and Aunt Rose, living out the remaining years of their life in the country, would never enquire into her private life.

There remained only those two terrors; that Rupert might grow tired of her; or that Rupert might leave her just as she had grown used to having him in her life.

Was the risk worth the possible success of the ultimate outcome? She stood to win Rupert completely. Eventually to become his wife and the mother of his children. Certainly if they continued as they were there would soon be quarrels, upsets, caused by the constant denial of their passion. Already she saw a restlessness in him when he was with her for any length of time. Already she felt herself growing less acquiescent to his love-making which she had so often to control. Sometimes they quarreled. Something perverse made her argue with him in order to test his love; to see if he would give in to her. She was growing nervy, morose, introspective. It could not go on; which left them two alternatives. Either they must continue as they were, which Candy felt would inevitably lead to a break-up, or she must do as Rupert suggested and allow their love to follow the course Nature demanded.

The telephone rang, startling Candy back to the immediate present. She knew it was Rupert; was so. . .