Page 91 of Hearts of Resistance
She watched as his mother pushed the door open properly and beckoned for her to come in. Something strange was going on, only Hazel had no idea what it was.
‘I’m sorry, love, this isn’t something I agree with but there’s nothing I can do about it. Come with me.’
Hazel followed, her anxiety giving way to panic now. What had happened to John? What was going on?
‘I don’t mean to intrude,’ Hazel said quickly, wishing she hadn’t come. ‘If there’s a better time or ...’
‘John, you have a visitor.’
Hazel opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She stared at the man who’d half risen from his chair, his hand on the shoulder of a beautiful brunette, the other woman’s eyes wide as she stared back at her.
John looked as handsome as he always had. His dark brown hair was thick and she watched as he pushed it off his face when some fell over his forehead, his gaze flitting from her to the woman beside him and back to her again. And just like that, the ball of anxiety deep within her, the feeling of being unsteady at sea, lifted. She should have been heartbroken, she should have dropped to her knees and sobbed or screamed the house down, anything, anything but have to bite her lip to stop from laughing. Because it was so obvious that this beautiful young woman, her stomach bulging from pregnancy as she shifted in her chair, was with John. Her John.
‘Hazel, I wasn’t expecting you,’ John stuttered, so unlike his usual composed self. ‘I ...’
She looked at his mother, who was shaking her head, then she turned her attention to the man before her.
‘Tell me everything, John,’ Hazel said, pleased with how confident her voice sounded. ‘I deserve to know what’s happened here.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply. ‘I should have come to see you.’
‘Yes, you should have.’ There was no excuse for her to find out this way, not after she’d waited for him, and she didn’t want him to see how secretly happy she was, even if his actions had embarrassed her.
‘This is Pénelopé,’ John said, gesturing towards the other woman. ‘She’s my ...’ He shut his eyes for a moment before stepping closer to her and speaking in a lower voice. ‘Pénelopé is my wife. I met her in Italy.’
‘And you didn’t think to write to me, to contact your fiancée, and mention that you’d married another woman? That you had a baby on the way?’ She wanted to be hysterical and make him see how appalling his manners were, but she was mostly irritated that he’d put her through thiswhen she could have found out months, weeks ago and not fretted so much about him coming home.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘We’re so sorry, my dear. We were looking forward to welcoming you into our family.’
Hazel felt sorry for his mother when she spoke.
‘Thank you,’ Hazel said warmly, not about to be rude. ‘I’m understandably hurt after waiting so loyally for John to come home, but there’s nothing to be done about it now, I suppose.’
John went to say something but she shook her head. ‘Here,’ she said, taking the ring from her finger and holding it out to him.
‘No, you don’t need to give it back,’ he said quickly.
She laughed. ‘I don’t want your ring as a reminder of our failed engagement.’ She pressed it into his palm and stepped forward to place a kiss to his cheek. Maybe he’d fallen in love with the Italian woman, or maybe he’d simply got her pregnant and had to marry her, but either way she was strangely relieved.
‘I wish you happiness,’ Hazel said honestly. ‘You shouldn’t have ended our engagement like this, but I do hope you’ll be happy.’
Hazel looked at his mother, wringing her hands near the door, then his new wife with one hand protectively to her stomach. This Pénelopé had left her family behind to follow John, given up everything to be with the man whose baby she was carrying, and Hazel actually felt sorry for her. Perhaps John didn’t even want to be with her but had decided to honour his unborn baby instead of the promise he’d made to Hazel.
‘Can we speak in private?’ he asked.
Hazel shook her head. ‘There’s no need. Please just let me be.’
John touched her elbow and she fought the urge to tear her arm away, knowing it was silly. ‘It was different over there, Hazel. If I could explain what I’ve been through, what it was like being away from home and the things we had to do, I would. I promise you, I would.’ His hands were shaking and she could see the trauma of what he’d experienced reflected in his eyes, knew instinctively how much he must have struggled. Perhaps he still was.
‘I understand what you’ve been through,’ she said.
‘No, you don’t. I mean, you can’t. No woman can understand.’
Hazel could have laughed. If only he knew. He might have been away much longer than she’d been, but she was fairly sure that she’d seen and done things that would easily rival his experiences. It also told her that he’d never been the right man for her.
‘The war has changed us all.’ Hazel was ready to leave, she didn’t need this to drag on for any longer than it already had. ‘Goodbye, John.’
