With All My Love

by Patricia Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

A compelling classic romance from the inimitable Patricia Robins, first published in 1963 and now available for the first time in eBook. It's 1962 and Jacqueline is fighting the temptation to ignore moral standards and conventions with her fiance, Chris. Confused by her conflicting feelings, she accepts the offer of a three-week working holiday in Switzerland. Away from home and the steadying influence of Chris, she finds herself attracted to the handsome Antoine...

Release date: April 23, 2015

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

Jackie watched her fiancé as he opened the door to let her mother pass through with the empty coffee cups and felt a surge of pride, love and longing sweep through her. Chris was always so thoughtful. He was switching on the hall light now — following Mum into the kitchenette, and no doubt he would stay and wipe the cups and saucers.

‘You’re tired, darling!’ he’d said a moment ago. ‘You stay put. I’ll be back in a moment.’

Jackie leant her dark chestnut-coloured head against the cushions on the worn old sofa and closed the greeny-grey eyes which were her best feature. She was tired. It had been a full day at Moulin’s — the hairdressing shop where she was Number 1 assistant. Two perms and a trim before lunch — two sets and finally the imperious Veronica Cairgorn for a bleach and set. Mrs. Cairgorn was their wealthiest client and Jackie and the other girls had nicknamed her ‘My Lady’ because she was so demanding and exacting.

But although Jackie’s slim young body was tired, her mind remained strangely active and her thoughts followed the young fair-haired, blue-eyed man to whom she was engaged.

Darling Chris! He’d be back soon and they’d be alone — for Mum would go up to bed early as she usually did when Chris came to supper — being tactful, she called it! Chris would come across the room and kiss her and then…

Jackie’s eyes opened suddenly and she stared thoughtfully into the firelight. And then, what? A frown creased the smooth young forehead and her long slim, beautifully-manicured fingers twisted together in her lap. These sessions alone with Chris had begun to be a bit of a problem. During the first year of their engagement Chris had been the passionate, demanding lover, kicking against the reins of convention that placed limitations upon their lovemaking. She had been the one contented just to be kissed, caressed and held in his strong young arms. And then, last Christmas, they had nearly lost control…

Jackie could not forget that brief moment before they forced themselves to stop before it was too late. It was the first time she had fully understood the tremendous force of mutual passion. She was frightened and at the same time exalted. She began to think of marriage as something more than a white bridal gown, wedding presents and a gold band on her finger to proclaim her new status as a wife. She realized that these were only the merest formalities, and that beneath the trimmings she would be dedicating herself — body as well as soul, to the man she loved.

The honeymoon no longer meant some kind of glorified holiday to be discussed and planned. It was a time set aside from ordinary living when she and Chris would have to know each other with no secrets left.

She was not afraid of this — her body craved the fulfilment at present denied them. She was only afraid of the temptation — never far from her thoughts since that night — that she might not be strong-minded enough to stop Chris if the moment were to be repeated.

Perhaps if she could have explained her feelings to Chris her emotions would have seemed right and normal. But he had reacted so strangely — almost as if he felt guilty for showing how passionately he wanted her. Their first time alone together afterwards he had apologized, accusing himself of momentary madness, of weakness. He’d made it painfully obvious that he was thoroughly ashamed of himself. Because she did not feel ashamed, she felt guilty. Yet deep down inside, she didn’t see why she should feel guilty. After all, she and Chris were going to be married. It was right they should want each other in every way.

They’d been dating since grammar school days when they’d first fallen in love. There’d never been anyone else for either of them and there never would be. Jackie couldn’t bring herself to believe that they had nearly succumbed through weakness. It seemed to her it was the strength of their need for one another which had been so hard to resist.

Lately, their hours alone together had been clouded by Chris’s iron determination not to take any risks which might tempt them too near the fire again. Their attitudes had become reversed. Chris, it seemed, was content now with mere kisses, and Jackie was the one who was torn with a desire to be as loving as possible to the man she loved.

‘We must be sensible!’ Those words were constantly on Chris’s lips and constantly on her nerves. Chris’s behaviour was almost puritanical — especially when Jackie considered the behaviour of those around them. Rona, the manicurist at Moulin’s, had been living with her boyfriend quite openly for years. Not that Jackie herself approved, any more than she approved of the way several of the girls at the shop messed around with every Tom, Dick and Harry, completely disregarding social conventions. But she and Chris were genuinely in love. Surely it was not wrong to lie in each other’s arms, kissing and embracing as much as they both wished, provided they knew when to stop. They were going to be married — just as soon as they could afford to buy the house they wanted.

Jackie sat up and stretched her arms above her head and sighed again. The only really sensible thing would be to get married right away. That’s what she would like to do, but Chris didn’t agree.

‘You look absolutely smashing tonight.’

Chris came across the room, sat down beside her on the sofa and took her in his arms. ‘A penny for them, darling, or has the price gone up?’

She threw her arms round his neck and put her face against his cheek.

‘I was thinking of you — of us. Kiss me.’

She was quite unconsciously seductive as she pressed her slim young body closer against his. For a moment his arms tightened about her and his kiss was as hard and demanding and full of passion as she wished it to be. Then he gently pulled her arms away and held them down against her side.

‘We must be sensible, darling.’

His voice was full of tenderness, but it left her with a sudden cold, painful feeling of hate. She felt a quite primitive desire to slap his face — hard. Instead, she turned away from him and said in an angry little voice,

‘It’s been a bloody awful day.’

She sensed rather than saw Chris stiffen beside her. She very rarely swore and she knew he hated it.

‘That ghastly woman, Mrs. Cairgorn, was in and made things just about as damn difficult for everyone as she could.’

‘But I thought you rather liked her?’ Chris said, perplexed by the sudden change in her. Sometimes he didn’t understand Jackie at all. One moment she would be soft and sweet and utterly feminine, and then as now, hard and unapproachable. He wanted to hold her hand, to bring her close to him again, but he knew when she was in one of these moods that she would only take her hand away.

For a moment or two she didn’t reply, and then she turned and said:

‘Chris, let’s get married.’

‘But, darling…’

His voice trailed away uncertainly. Obviously, Jackie was serious; her eyes, her outstretched hands, her whole body, expressed an urgent appeal. He knew he must not make a flippant reply; he couldn’t give her a flat ‘no,’ either. But she knew they couldn’t afford to get married yet.

Watching his face, Jackie guessed his thoughts — Chris being sensible again.

‘Well, why not?’ she demanded suddenly, furiously and childishly annoyed with him. ‘Why should we go on wasting the best years of our lives just because of a blasted house?’

He looked as shocked as she had meant him to be. One-half of her felt slight pity for him. She had, after all, been in complete agreement with him when they’d discussed the future the day they became engaged. They’d jointly agreed that since they were both young there was no point in rushing into an early marriage. Apart from anything else, they hadn’t enough money. Since her father had died, Jackie had contributed to the upkeep of the semi-detached house she and her mother shared. Mum couldn’t afford to stay in it if those contributions stopped.

Then there was Chris’s position. He’d been brought up in a rather ugly, overcrowded house in a row in the middle of Bickley, the neighbouring suburb. His father had worked for British Railways and there’d never been enough money to pay for the needs of the six children who’d been crowded into the terraced house. Four years ago Chris’s mother, whom he loved dearly, had died. She’d always had a weak heart, and the hard struggle to bring up her family, for whom she was constantly sacrificing herself, was too much for her. Jackie knew that Chris was determined that her life would be different. He’d never had a chance to improve his mother’s lot, for he’d only just qualified as a bank accountant. He’d worked hard throughout school and during his training, so that he could repay some of his mother’s early sacrifices, and then she’d died before he could realize that ambition. Jackie was mature enough to appreciate that Chris had transferred all his enthusiasms to her, and she respected him for the strength of character which had got him a much better job than his father had ever had.

She knew it was unfair to complain now about Chris’s common-sense and reliability, since these traits among others had first attracted her to him. Mentally she accepted the fact that Chris was right to want a nice house, nicely furnished, with a little money in the bank before they married. It was her heart which was crying out against the frustration of being so close to him yet never quite close enough.

Chris said, breaking the silence:

‘We shouldn’t have to wait so very much longer, darling. I’ve brought the little black book with me. Would you like to have a look at it?’

She hesitated. She didn’t really want to discuss finances, and yet she knew what the ‘little black book’ meant to Chris. He produced it now, opened it on his lap and pointed to the neat columns of figures.

‘Look, Jackie. We’ve six hundred pounds in our savings account. Another hundred will pay the twenty per cent down-payment on the kind of house we want. Incidentally, darling, I saw one in last night’s evening paper at just our price — three thousand two-fifty. Then there are the legal fees and stamp duty — that shouldn’t come to more than thirty pounds. If we cut down a bit on the furniture — perhaps only do the living room and bedroom and kitchen — we might be able to think in terms of next autumn.’

‘Maybe we won’t feel like getting married next autumn.’

She knew the remark was perverse.

She wondered, suddenly suppressing a giggle, if she were becoming schizophrenic, if there weren’t sometimes two of her — one the loving, easy-going, contented girl whom Chris loved; the other a rather bitchy woman who wanted to hurt him because she felt hurt. Everything Chris said made sense. Everything he did was for her, for their joint happiness. She knew it wasn’t fair to accuse him of putting pounds, shilling and pence before love, and yet at moments like these, face to face with the little black book, that was how it seemed.

Chris’s blue eyes looked at her with cold surprise.

‘You’ve changed, Jackie. You never used to talk this way.’

It was almost a quarrel — and they never quarrelled. Jackie was suddenly frightened. Impulsively, she threw herself back into his arms and said:

‘Sorry, darling. You know I didn’t really mean that. I expect I’m just tired and on edge. Forgive me?’

He softened at once and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.

‘Of course, and you do look tired, darling. Perhaps I ought to go.’

‘No, no, please don’t. I’m all right, really. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to tell you what happened at the shop today…’

She hadn’t really intended to tell him about Veronica Cairgorn’s fantastic invitation, but now she was anxious to detain Chris. It was only ten o’clock and she knew if she went up to bed she wouldn’t sleep, tired as she was.

‘She actually suggested I go to Switzerland with her in a fortnight’s time. I think the idea was that I should be a sort of glorified hairdresser-cum-maid-cum-companion. She knows I speak French fluently, because I told her Father was half-Swiss and that we lived in Geneva until after the war. She even went so far as to ask Mr. Paul if he’d let me go. Of course she’s frantically rich, and. . .