Chapter 15

Isobel was ashamed of herself. Through complete selfishness she had aroused Gerry when she herself had been the one to deny him making love to her. What sort of love was that? Where was her consideration?

After a rapid shower she slipped her dressing gown on again and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. She slammed round in the kitchen still berating herself. When Gerry appeared she could not bring herself to face him.

"Oy!" he said. "Don't I get a welcome kiss on a freshly shaved face?"

She turned to him reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Gerry," she whispered. "I was selfish. I should never have excited you like that."

Gerry went to her and pulled her into his arms.

"Rubbish," he said softly. "That was a wonderful way to be woken and, as for exciting me, you do that every time you sit on my knee or come into my arms."

"Really?"

"Really." He eased his hips forward.

"Oh wow!" That cheered her up immediately and her sense of mischief returned. She pulled back her head to look at him. "So you're just over-sexed."

"Thoroughly."

"Hmm. The sooner I get on the pill the better." She thought for a moment and then in a little girl lisp and fluttering her eyelashes added, "Pleath, Unca Gewwy, can we go into Pitthbuwy on the way and get thome of thothe thingieth to put on your willy?"

"Yes, little girl, if you're a good girl and help me put them on."

She pealed with laughter. "You're a very wicked uncle," she spluttered.

"Oh I am. I am but I've got a naughty little niece."

"I'm bigger than you."

"Bully!"

There was more laughter and then Isobel disengaged to cook them both some breakfast.

They reached Bruno and Hermoine's shortly before eleven having made the required detour to Pitsbury. They walked in hand in hand and found both parents in the kitchen with the kettle on for coffee. Hermoine took one look at them and then rushed to embrace them.

"When?" she demanded.

"Yesterday evening," replied Gerry.

"Before or after you rang?"

"Before."

"So you kept it from your father."

"We wanted to tell you face to face rather than over the phone," said Isobel smiling radiantly, "but you beat us to it."

"I'll forgive you this once." Hermoine hugged them again.

"Do I get a look in?" asked Bruno plaintively.

Isobel disengaged herself and putting her arms round his neck kissed him soundly. "Yes," she said and gave him another.

"I hope you're going to make a habit of this," he said smiling broadly.

"Happily," she replied giving him another for good measure.

Bruno shook Gerry's hand and patted his shoulder. "Congratulations, Gerry," he said warmly and proudly. "You've shown very good taste."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I think I've got a bottle of champagne tucked away somewhere," went on Bruno.

"Do you mind saving it until this evening, Dad? Hockey this afternoon remember."

"Party pooper!"

"Yup!"

Instead they had coffee.

"You can't have wasted time popping the question, Gerry," observed Hermoine.

"No," smiled Gerry. "Within five minutes of arrival, I guess."

"We'd both had a miserable week apart and then Gerry said he loved me and I was able to tell him the same," added Isobel. "At last!"

Hermoine smiled at them both. "Thank God Gerry plucked up the courage," she thought to herself, "or they'd have gone on mooning about till Heaven knows when despite it being clear to the rest of the world that they were crackers about each other." She looked at Bruno and smiled again. "Even he, the big brave soldier, took an age to ask me."

Bruno smiled back at her and mouthed a kiss.

They had an early lunch and then Gerry and Isobel left for the hockey club. Isobel was delighted to find two of the girls from the county game at Marlborough who were very welcoming and introduced her to a number of others.

Gerry was playing centre-forward instead of his favourite position on the wing. Nevertheless, certainly to Isobel's eye, he played a blinder, scoring twice in the first half; once from a centre from the right wing and then from boring in on his own and flicking the ball past the charging goalkeeper.

In the second half a cross from the left wing had Gerry and the opposing fullback racing for it. The back got there first but did not have time to get the ball under control. Instead he swung desperately at it and undercut it. The ball rose almost vertically and hit Gerry in the face. He went down as though pole-axed.

Isobel instinctively started to run to him but one of the girls grabbed her wrist and stayed her.

"Hold it, Isobel love. You'll get in the way of the first-aiders."

Isobel nodded but it did nothing to calm her anxiety. She fretted until, clutching a pad to his cheek, Gerry was helped to his feet and supported to the touchline. She ran to him but managed to restrain herself from leaping at him. Instead she took his free hand and looked anxiously at him.

He smiled crookedly at her. "I'll live," he mumbled.

Isobel turned to one of the first-aiders. "I'm his fiancée," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Yes," he replied gratefully. "He needs an X-ray and stitches and probably a pain-killer. Can you run him to Pitsbury District?"

"Yes but I'll need his car keys."

"Right! Come with me, my dear, and show me his kit and we'll take it to the car while these two walk him over there."

They did that, Isobel chafing at the bit throughout, and caught up with Gerry as he arrived at the car. He was eased into the front seat despite protesting that he could do it himself and Isobel rushed to the driver's seat, adjusted it and was off with spinning tyres.

The thirty mile an hour limit meant nothing to her. She drove to the hospital flat out, flashing her lights and sounding her horn. Gerry cowered. On arrival, she took not the slightest notice of the 'Ambulances Only' sign and drove straight up to the A & E entrance. She helped him to the reception desk where she was little short of rude to the receptionist in her hurry to get him seen to. She led him to a seat as instructed.

"I must go and park the car, my darling. Will you be all right?"

"Yes. Slow down, my love. I'm fine."

She squeezed his hand, kissed his forehead and dashed out again. She parked the car and rang Hermoine.

"Gerry got a ball full blast in his face. I've taken him to A & E and we're waiting for someone to see him. I don't know how bad it is but his face is very swollen and bleeding. And ... and he's white as a sheet," she gabbled. "Oh, Hermoine, what can I do?"

"Calm down for starters, dear. Did he lose consciousness?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't let me near him until they brought him off the pitch."

"Walking or on a stretcher?"

"Walking."

"Relax then, Isobel dear. He'll live. Promise."

"That's what he said."

"Well then. Relax, my dear. He's probably no worse hurt than you were when he rugger tackled you ten days ago. You go back and fuss over him. Men love that."

Isobel could not help but laugh. "Thanks, Hermoine," she said. "That's made me feel a lot better."

"Good. We'll see you when we see you."

The phone went down.

"Whew!" thought Isobel. "She took that pretty coolly. Almost emotionless. Probably because she realised I was in a tear. Bless her!"

She walked slowly back to A & E. Gerry was nowhere to be seen so she sat down where she had left him and picked up a dog-eared magazine.