that he had
caused offence. Or, thought Bella sadly, perhaps he did not care.
“Gloria is
coming soon, I hope. Your sister has kindly agreed to put her up for a while.”
“Well, that’s
wonderful. I’m sure we’ll all be great friends. Now if you two will excuse me,
I need to find Mister Griffiths. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to escort
my sister the rest of the way?”
“I’m honoured
you trust her to me,” said Vance, through tight lips.
“Of course, I
do. You’re a good friend, Vance. I was just saying so to Bella.”
Bella cringed at
Andrew’s patronising tone. She wished he would hurry up and leave them alone.
When he saw Griffiths in the distance, he did just that.
“I’m sorry,” she
whispered to Vance, when Andrew was out of earshot.
“You don’t have
to apologise for your brother. I told you that.”
“I know but his
behaviour in a saloon is one thing. The way he spoke about you is another.” She
looked up at him with large sad eyes. “Why did you call me Miss Tennyson? I
thought we were friends.”
“We are, but maybe
your brother is right. Maybe your association with me isn’t a good thing.”
“I don’t care
what others think,” said Bella. “I just don’t want us to be awkward with each
other. You’re one of the few people I can trust here.”
“But your
brother wouldn’t let you marry me.” Vance sounded bitter, but also tired. As if
the insult were one he had to swallow too many times.
“Surely the
discussion is academic since you’re engaged to Gloria,” she said, trying hard
to smile.
He reached up
and stroked her cheek. “And what would you say, Bella? If I did ask.”
They seemed to
stand there for an age, whilst he waited for her to answer. She wanted to say
‘oh yes’, to tell him that she would be proud to be his wife, and that since
the day she met she had lain awake at night thinking about him, and what it
might feel like to be in his arms. To do so would be to lay herself bare, and
she could not do that. Not knowing that he was in love with someone else.
“But you
wouldn’t because you’re in love with Gloria, so I think it’s best if we don’t
discuss it. Don’t you?”
“I think I just
got my answer,” he said, his face darkening. He turned and walked away from
her. After a few feet, he stopped and turned back. “Come on.” He held out his
arm. “I promised your brother I would escort you to the dance, and I never
break my promises. Miss Tennyson.”
Bella took his
arm meekly, more miserable than she had ever felt. Her reply seemed to have
convinced him that she felt the same way as her brother, but what else could
she have said? After all, he had not made a proper marriage proposal. He had
been talking hypothetically. If only she could have answered in the same way,
but for Bella there was nothing hypothetical about her feelings for Vance
Eagleson.
The rest of the
evening passed pleasantly enough. The Petersons were good hosts, insisting
everyone ate well from the buffet of fried chicken, spare ribs and potato
salad. The dancing, for Bella, was exhilarating, and a million miles away from
the sedate tea dances she attended in England. People whooped and cheered,
whilst following what to Bella sounded like impossible instructions from the
leader of the band.
When a young man
approached her and asked her to dance, she looked around for Vance but he was
deep in conversation with Mr Peterson and another man, whilst a young woman
hung on his arm looking up at him with doe eyes. So Bella allowed herself to be
led to the dance floor.
“You’ll have to
translate for me,” she said to her partner.
“Heck, ma’am I
don’t have a clue what they say most of the time. I just follow everyone else.”
So that was what they did, sometimes getting tangled up in a sea of arms. No
one seemed to mind. Everyone behaved with informal abandon. It was exhausting
but exhilarating for Bella.
Andrew was a
great hit with the young women, who
caused offence. Or, thought Bella sadly, perhaps he did not care.
“Gloria is
coming soon, I hope. Your sister has kindly agreed to put her up for a while.”
“Well, that’s
wonderful. I’m sure we’ll all be great friends. Now if you two will excuse me,
I need to find Mister Griffiths. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to escort
my sister the rest of the way?”
“I’m honoured
you trust her to me,” said Vance, through tight lips.
“Of course, I
do. You’re a good friend, Vance. I was just saying so to Bella.”
Bella cringed at
Andrew’s patronising tone. She wished he would hurry up and leave them alone.
When he saw Griffiths in the distance, he did just that.
“I’m sorry,” she
whispered to Vance, when Andrew was out of earshot.
“You don’t have
to apologise for your brother. I told you that.”
“I know but his
behaviour in a saloon is one thing. The way he spoke about you is another.” She
looked up at him with large sad eyes. “Why did you call me Miss Tennyson? I
thought we were friends.”
“We are, but maybe
your brother is right. Maybe your association with me isn’t a good thing.”
“I don’t care
what others think,” said Bella. “I just don’t want us to be awkward with each
other. You’re one of the few people I can trust here.”
“But your
brother wouldn’t let you marry me.” Vance sounded bitter, but also tired. As if
the insult were one he had to swallow too many times.
“Surely the
discussion is academic since you’re engaged to Gloria,” she said, trying hard
to smile.
He reached up
and stroked her cheek. “And what would you say, Bella? If I did ask.”
They seemed to
stand there for an age, whilst he waited for her to answer. She wanted to say
‘oh yes’, to tell him that she would be proud to be his wife, and that since
the day she met she had lain awake at night thinking about him, and what it
might feel like to be in his arms. To do so would be to lay herself bare, and
she could not do that. Not knowing that he was in love with someone else.
“But you
wouldn’t because you’re in love with Gloria, so I think it’s best if we don’t
discuss it. Don’t you?”
“I think I just
got my answer,” he said, his face darkening. He turned and walked away from
her. After a few feet, he stopped and turned back. “Come on.” He held out his
arm. “I promised your brother I would escort you to the dance, and I never
break my promises. Miss Tennyson.”
Bella took his
arm meekly, more miserable than she had ever felt. Her reply seemed to have
convinced him that she felt the same way as her brother, but what else could
she have said? After all, he had not made a proper marriage proposal. He had
been talking hypothetically. If only she could have answered in the same way,
but for Bella there was nothing hypothetical about her feelings for Vance
Eagleson.
The rest of the
evening passed pleasantly enough. The Petersons were good hosts, insisting
everyone ate well from the buffet of fried chicken, spare ribs and potato
salad. The dancing, for Bella, was exhilarating, and a million miles away from
the sedate tea dances she attended in England. People whooped and cheered,
whilst following what to Bella sounded like impossible instructions from the
leader of the band.
When a young man
approached her and asked her to dance, she looked around for Vance but he was
deep in conversation with Mr Peterson and another man, whilst a young woman
hung on his arm looking up at him with doe eyes. So Bella allowed herself to be
led to the dance floor.
“You’ll have to
translate for me,” she said to her partner.
“Heck, ma’am I
don’t have a clue what they say most of the time. I just follow everyone else.”
So that was what they did, sometimes getting tangled up in a sea of arms. No
one seemed to mind. Everyone behaved with informal abandon. It was exhausting
but exhilarating for Bella.
Andrew was a
great hit with the young women, who
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