9 THE BLACKFORD HILL
As Douglas predicted, it was the end of the Christmas holiday before he returned to Craigton Hall. On arrival at the boys' hostel, he was told to move upstairs. Henceforth he would share a room for two in the attic with Dick Greenslade.
When he entered the quaint old garret room, with its sloping beams and dormer window, Dick said, 'I suppose you're going out with Louise tonight.'
'You bet. She's expecting me to call her as soon as I've unpacked.'
'You'd better hurry up, then. It doesn't do to keep them waiting you know.'
Douglas unpacked hurriedly and rushed down to the telephone in the front hall.
He was so excited he could hardly dial the number correctly. After two attempts,
he made a
successful connection.
Louise must have been waiting by the phone, for she picked it up after the first ring.
'Hello.' Her voice sounded husky with anticipation.
'Hello, Louise, it's me. Are we going out tonight?'
'I thought I would never hear you ask,' she laughed.
'When and where?'
'I'll see you at the corner at 6pm.'
'I'll be there.'
* * *
At the appointed time, Douglas stood at the corner of the street. It was a cold, frosty evening, even by January standards. 'You'll need your love to keep you warm tonight,' Dick had quipped. Douglas had come prepared, wrapped in his duffel coat and thickest scarf.
He had often heard that it was the lady's privilege to be late. Louise was not late, however. His heart leapt when he heard the front door of the girls' hostel opened and slammed shut. A pair of high-heeled shoes tip-tapped smartly down the pathway and the garden gate squeaked a merry little tune as it swung open. The heels tapped purposefully towards him and Douglas took a few paces to meet her. They greeted one another affectionately then linked arms and set off.
The route to Blackford Hill was neither very long nor very difficult. Douglas asked Louise to walk on the inside, to avoid painful collisions with lampposts. She was brilliant at walking straight on pavements, helping to guide him by tracking the echo of her metal-tipped heels as it bounced off walls and railings.
Two blocks down they turned right. The Georgian suburb of Morningside lay spread out around them. Its quiet streets were deserted, for hardly anyone went out on cold winter nights. In those days motor cars were scarcely heard on suburban roads after business hours. Only the hoot of a steam locomotive disturbed the silence, but it seemed oddly in keeping, like some nocturnal creature calling to its mate.
To keep their bearings they counted the crossings, for the place was laid out like a chess board and they could easily distinguish house entrances from streets. At the correct count they turned left, down a rough, unpaved footpath that led to the broad avenue of Cluny Gardens. It was deserted and they crossed without hesitation. On the other side, Douglas found the park gate by feeling along the railing. It yielded to his touch and clanged shut behind them.
'The gates of Paradise,' he murmured, as they stood on the edge of the vast, silent park, sensing the direction of their route. The Blackford Hill loomed up in front of them, casting an acoustic shadow like a miniature mountain.
Turning right, they set off along a rough track. Douglas thought of the friendly darkness around them and imagined a starry night, with a bright moon smiling down from a cloudless heaven. As they passed the duck pond they disturbed a roosting bird. It shook its wings and squawked crossly, then all was still again.
The track began to curve left with the contour of the hill, ascending in long terraced steps. They walked slowly, wary of unexpected obstacles, but were at one with the spirit of the place. Douglas slipped his arm round Louise, drawing her closer to him as they talked in whispers, though there was no one to overhear.
'I hear bushes here on the left,' said Douglas. 'Shall we stop?'
'No, Douglas, let's explore farther.'
Pausing, they crossed right and found a wall of about their own height, with a
heavy coping on top. The rustle of trees on the other side told of the old wood
that sheltered the
duck pond.
'Let's go on a bit,' murmured Louise. The track continued to ascend until they reached its highest point, then it started to descend towards the 18th-century house known as the Hermitage. They knew there were steep steps there, roughly cut into the track, which might be dangerous.
'Shall we stay here for a bit before going back?' asked Douglas.
This time she agreed and they turned to the wall that bordered the wood. Louise leaned back against it and Douglas unbuttoned her thick coat. She undid his and they snuggled close, warming one another against the frosty night air.
'It's lovely to have you back,' Louise whispered.
'Mmm.'
They kissed and held each other even closer. As always the matter-of-fact world seemed to melt away and they were lost in their own feelings.
Douglas began to stroke her breasts. She offered no resistance, burying her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and allowing her whole body to relax.
'I've missed you so much, love,' he said.
'And I you, very much.'
Emboldened, Douglas allowed his hand to wander down the soft wool of her sweater on to her skirt. Louise felt her body kindle, but thought she should resist. As Douglas began to tug at her skirt, she put her hand firmly on his.
'Don't do that, love,' she said.
He moaned quietly.
'No - it's going too far,' she said, gently.
Douglas's hand drifted back to a colder latitude. 'Is this allowed?' he asked peevishly, like a little boy checked.
'You know it is,' said Louise. 'You don't have to give up everything for Lent.'
'Why do I have to give up anything? I'm not a believer.'
'I know, dear, but there have to be some rules.'
Douglas fell silent, but went on holding her very close. After a while he tried again. This time, Louise pushed him firmly away.
'Don't you love me?' he queried.
'I don't know, when you do that,' she said, with a little sigh of exasperation.
'Oh don't say that, Louise. I couldn't bear it if you didn't love me!'
'Well, then, you have to respect me.'
Seeing that she meant it, Douglas said, 'Yes, Louise. You're right. I'll do as you say.'
She smiled again and gave him a tight hug.
Louise was not coquettish. She really loved Douglas with her whole being. Lying with him in the dark 'cabin' of the classroom had stirred her emotions to the depths. But it had also made her scared of being swept away. Highly sexed as she was, she knew that, if she once let go, she would not want to stop until the whole experience of love was hers. She would not abandon herself like that. The consequences could only be pain to herself and the parents she loved.
The dilemma was that she also loved Douglas, with feelings just as generous and strong. His affection warmed and lit her whole soul. Love warred against caution in her heart, and she wanted both to grant and to deny what he desired.
* * *
Throughout January and into February, they walked out to the park and lingered by the wall at the summit of the track. On the way they talked about their favourite things: novels, poems, music, and the gossip of Craigton Hall. When they reached their goal and stood against the wall, Louise checked his advances as before. The sap of her love seemed as dormant as the trees above their heads. Douglas thought ironically that they really had become like screen lovers, frozen in the conventional clinch that ended every Hollywood romance.
Winter snow lay thick, blanketing the silent park. Hunting owls screeched in the wood, but the rest of nature seemed to have shrunk into itself. They were like two ships held fast in Arctic ice.
At the beginning of March the weather began to change. There was just a hint of spring in some of the afternoons at Craigton Hall, though the evenings were still dark and cold. Each knew, without mentioning it to the other, that when they returned from the Easter holiday the evenings would be light and the park would be full of people, enjoying an evening stroll. They needed privacy, and darkness was all the privacy they could command.
Louise had another concern, peculiarly her own. Douglas seemed to have become less ardent. For a while she told herself that this was what she wanted. She had asked him to slow down and he had submitted like a lamb. She loved him for the way he respected her wishes. But now he was more restrained than she liked. She began to worry that he might be growing bored with her. He found excuses to go back earlier than necessary, saying that he had to do a Latin exercise or something. She was growing bored with caution and longed to be roused again as in the 'cabin'.
This longing slowly took possession of her. One evening, dressing in her room to go out with Douglas, she found herself wondering what underwear would please him most. And then she laughed at herself. How silly to think of underwear as a turn on when he was not supposed to touch it. What she really wanted, she told herself, was that he would try again in the hopeless cause. She might let him go just a tiny bit further.
To her increasing chagrin, he did not try and she wondered if he was only playing the gentleman at her request. It was up to her to give the green light.
Douglas was in truth becoming bored with chaste love and tried to break Louise's rule while sticking to it. He had promised not to let his hand wander below her waist, and he kept his word. But he had said nothing about his knee. Standing against their wall, he would press against her thighs until she opened them a little. Louise was not too keen on being kneed like this, but hoped that her little concession would be enough to set him exploring again. Douglas, however, felt that his hands were tied.
* * *
In these first weeks of March, Louise began to grow desperate. The Easter holiday was fast approaching. Two weeks of separation lay ahead and beyond that the change from winter to summer time would bring light evenings. Desperate straits called for desperate measures and a bright idea came to Louise as she stood alone in the hostel bedroom which she shared with Marion. Once again she was dressing to go out with Douglas. She had just emerged from a warm, scented bath. Slipping off her robe, she stood naked in the quiet little room. Her mood was dreamy and her thoughts ran on the Blackford Hill. In a reverie she slipped on her bra, then pulled on her girdle. She had a good figure, but every woman wore a 'foundation' in those days. Louise ran her hands over her uplifted breasts, her narrow waist, her firm hips and liked herself in the reflection of her touch.
Sitting on the side of her bed, she drew on a pair of nylon stockings, attaching them to her suspenders. Then she chose a pair of french knickers, smooth and shiny, with little buttons at the side. Next she slipped a satin underskirt over her head and let it ripple down to her thighs. If Douglas had only the courage to explore she felt sure he would like what he found.
What skirt to wear was the question now. The evenings were still too cold for a dress, so she picked up her favourite, a pleated tartan, full and flared. As she was about to step into it she stopped. As if a stratagem had just entered her mind, she hung the full skirt back on the rail and took down a much narrower one that clung straight and tight to the knee.
'That'll do very nicely,' she murmured, smiling. After pulling on a lambswool sweater she stepped into a pair of smart high heels. She applied some makeup and sprayed perfume behind her ears, then took down her thick overcoat from the hanger on the door.
* * *
That evening everything proceeded as Louise had foreseen. When Douglas pressed
against her thighs, they did not yield, clasped together in her narrow skirt. She
could sense his growing frustration and wondered what he would do. If he just
gives up I'll never go out with him again, she thought. Suddenly Douglas reached
down and swept up her skirt like a
window blind.
'At last,' thought Louise.
'Amazing, she hasn't slapped my face,' thought Douglas. He could only wonder at his own temerity, uncertain of the next move. Louise made it for him, separating her feet a little. Douglas, still only half-believing in this unexpected freedom, slowly allowed his hand to descend. He paused to see if Louise would push him away. She cuddled closer. His fingers brushed lightly over the smooth satin, then, loosening the buttons, slipped inside.
Louise thrilled to Douglas's touch. It seemed to be everywhere at once -
front, back, outside, inside, and a deep lake opened up inside her. How, she
wondered for a fleeting moment, had Douglas gained knowledge of such arts? But
the question dissolved as lights danced in
her soul and wild waves broke from the depths. Astounded and alarmed by the
force of
passion, she pushed Douglas away, like a swimmer catching breath, then clung to
him, like a drowning woman.
Time slipped away in the rapture of love. They seemed to merge with the silent grove around them: trees, stones, the sheltering hill.
At last Douglas opened the Braille watch on his wrist. 'We must go back, my
love,'
he whispered.
She murmured a reluctant assent and took the satin knickers that Douglas had pushed into his pocket. She contemplated Douglas in amazement. He had stood before an open door and she was astonished at his restraint. She had trusted him and he had not gone all the way.
Douglas too was full of wonder. This seemed like another Louise. A self-possessed girl had transformed into a yielding, passionate woman. Was it as the sex manual said? Did girls really lose all self-control when aroused? It seemed to Douglas that he had touched Louise's love and it was down to him to hold back, safeguarding her from this dangerous passion. But in reality he had touched only the hem.
As they walked back to the park gates, pausing every few yards to hug and kiss, Douglas whispered, 'How do you feel about tonight, love? Have we gone from bad to worse?'
'Don't be silly,' she whispered, smiling. 'We've gone from good to better.'