Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

paused for reflection before standing to indicate that the interview was over. Kelly sprang to his feet and took the outstretched hand. “Don’t make your mind up now, Old Chap. Sleep on it. Wire me tomorrow with your decision one way or the other and I will set in motion whatever wheels that are needed, oiling them if necessary.”

Kelly replaced his peaked cap and saluted. Though bareheaded, the Commodore, beaming broadly, returned the salute. As Kelly turned to leave the office, the Commodore called after him. “Kelly, I said that all I can promise is an initial assessment if you pass the Commando training. Well, I can offer more than that.” He continued to smile. “I can promise you discomfort, pain and fatigue. I can promise you long days and even longer nights and I can promise you that you will curse the day you listened to Archie Jenkins!”

Commodore Jenkins was, as usual, quite correct.

Megan was nestled on Dan Kelly’s shoulder, sleeping lightly. The black hair mildly irritated Kelly’s arm but, at that moment, he wouldn’t have moved for all the world. He felt blissfully happy.

He had been overjoyed when she had accepted his invitation to dine with him that evening, but initially the night had not gone well. After cocktails in the Savoy lounge, they had scoured the West End for somewhere to eat. Severe food shortages meant that most restaurants were taking bookings only from their regulars, and even then they had to restrict the numbers.

Eventually they found a fairly seedy little Taverna run by an aging Greek man. The only thing on offer was a moussaka which, when they sampled it, was bland and unexciting. Kelly didn’t dare guess what the main ingredients were. He felt despondent as they left the restaurant and started to walk towards a nearby taxi rank. Kelly was about to apologise, but as if sensing this, Megan had spoken. Squeezing his arm, she said, “Thank you so much Dan. I’ve really enjoyed myself tonight. You are such good company.”

“I was about to thank you for not complai—” She placed a finger over his lips, not letting him finish.

“It was lovely. Even the moussaka!” she laughed, her green eyes shining like emeralds in the twilight.

Kelly felt for her hand and squeezed it gently. “Thank you,” he said simply, smiling at her. Megan seemed in no hurry to retrieve her hand, so Kelly held onto it.

As they approached the taxi rank, with not a taxi in sight, Megan asked, “Would you mind walking me home? It’s not far. About a half-mile.”

“I’d be delighted,” said Kelly. They strolled arm in arm the short distance to her apartment, oblivious of London’s evening bustle. The city, so bright before the war, now seemed dreary and dark. Even the double-deckers, with their dimmed and hooded lights, seemed to growl their protest as they pushed their way through the light drizzle. Passers-by, many in uniform, some limping or carrying their arms in triangular bandages, casualties of the war that seemed so far away at that moment, appeared sombre and joyless. Despite all of this, Dan Kelly was happy. He felt a spring in his step and his heart was light.

As they reached the apartment block, Kelly turned to Megan and took both of her hands in his, leant forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. Her response was to release her hands and encircle her arms around Kelly. Holding him firmly, she pulled her body into close contact with his, kissing him firmly on the lips. Kelly felt her trembling a little as she eased herself away slightly.

“Stay with me tonight Dan,” she whispered.

The first time they made love was a frenzy of erotic passion, an outpouring of frustrations, loneliness, and carnal desire.

It lasted but a short time, after which they lay in an embrace and talked, kissed, touched and explored. At length, the embraces and caresses became more intimate and they made love again; slowly, languidly, draining every ounce of pleasure from the experience. Her body was at once taut and firm and then soft and subtle and they moved as one, shifting easily from one position to another. Finally, exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Light was filtering through the partly drawn drape and Kelly was able to discern the details of the room in which he now lay. It was a clean but spartan room with unattractive floral wallpaper and a whitewashed ceiling. The light bulb hung from a frayed electrical cord and was partly covered by a somewhat misshapen lampshade. Handmade, thought Kelly.

An unlit black coal fire was set into one wall, and although small, it was intricately decorated in the Victorian style. There was a small dressing table and a large heavy wardrobe. Very utilitarian thought Kelly, probably a naval hiring, or perhaps an army hiring? He looked again at the framed photograph on the dressing table, which showed an army sergeant in battledress. Father? Brother? Most probably husband. Kelly suddenly felt guilty, he wanted to turn the photo to the wall, but he didn’t move.

Megan stirred and slowly returned to consciousness. She smiled and kissed him before sliding out of the bed. As she walked towards the door, she glanced into the full-length wardrobe mirror at her nakedness. She must be pleased with what she sees, thought Kelly.

Kelly could hear the sound of a bath running in the small bathroom that he passed on his way to the tiny kitchen where he busied himself preparing tea and toast. By the time Megan emerged, wrapped in a bath towel, the light breakfast was ready. They chatted as they ate; cheerful unimportant banter.

Megan dressed as Kelly bathed, then together they walked to the admiralty building. About a block away from it, Megan stopped, kissed Kelly affectionately on the cheek and said, “Leave me here, Dan.”

Kelly understood and returned the kiss, but, as he turned to go, she caught hold of his arm. “You still have some leave. Stay with