talked to anyone.
Their attraction was mutual and magical. She was drawn by his assurance and worldliness. And he was fired by her naivety and the soft glow of her innocence. A young girl becoming a woman, she was vibrant with hope. She imagined his life to be bold and adventurous, so different from the strict confines of her family home. He told her he had witnessed things he hoped she’d never have to see; sordid events, like fights, domestic violence, gambling and theft. Human behaviour was rife in the pickers’ huts—mostly alcohol driven. He’d chosen not to get involved in any of it, but there were things he’d been forced to do to defend himself. This was a topic he elected not to expand on.
He had left home at an early age to escape his strict and bitter father. Being on his own was better than weathering his father’s criticisms and insults. His mother had been sad to see him go, poor oppressed woman that she was. He regularly sent her letters, but he hadn’t been back home. A transient way of life suited him better; seeing new places, new people. He was happy when he was on the road.
Listening to him, Mary’s world became larger. She believed they were destined for each other. Then, five days after they’d met, things shifted into new territory. They were sitting on the grass in the far corner of the park, conversing as usual, dreaming up plans for travels, when talk suddenly suspended. Adam was watching her, his eyes alight and his face luminous. She felt time lift and take flight. There was something different between them, something fresh but weightless.
He reached out and grasped her hand, the warmth of his fingers folding around hers, and her eyes locked with his. In his face was a liquid intensity, a hopeful question. A flush crept up her arm, spreading from the tips of his fingers. This was not right and she ought not to allow it, but the core of her was squeezed tight and she couldn’t let go.
Perhaps he sensed her turmoil, because for a brief moment he relaxed his hold, giving her an opportunity to pull away. But she left her hand lying lightly in his. She knew it was wrong, but she wanted to trust him, to go on this flight with him away from the ordinary. Even now, all these decades later, she could remember the smile that curled his lips. With her permission given, the world of sensual touch unfolded.
Turning her hand over, he began to trace lines and soft circles in her palm while her stomach contracted and her toes clenched. Then, with a tingle that was almost unbearable, his fingers crept spider-like to her wrist. Overcome by wild recklessness, suddenly she wanted to feel his fingers on her face, her arms, beneath her clothes. It was a hot, hot feeling. A shocking feeling.
He looked at her knowingly, and ashamed, she pulled away. What sort of girl was she to enjoy this? What was she doing? But she allowed him to take her hand again. It was what she wanted. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Gently, he pushed up her sleeve and trickled his fingers along her arm to the tender crease at her elbow. The play of his fingertips made her shudder and tremble. She was a rose unfurling. Nothing else mattered. She was consumed. Lost in sensation.
By the end of the week they were kissing.
She was alarmed things had moved so quickly, but she’d never been gripped by such a sense of urgency. Artless and unsophisticated, she pulled him to her, seeking the taste of his lips. He was kind with her. Slow and in command. Gently steadying her with a smile. Between kisses they talked. Planning a future. Dreaming of a cottage and an orchard of their own. She was learning passion. And he’d met someone virtuous at last. A woman who was unharmed by hardship. Someone who adored him.
Then her parents found out. Her father was walking home from work and he saw them kissing. Icy with fury, he barked her name so loudly it rang across the park. Horrified, she wrenched herself from Adam’s grasp and ran home. When her father came in, the slam of the front door rocked the house. From her bedroom, she heard the fast sound of angry voices in the kitchen. Her mother’s cry of disbelief.
A knock on the front door brought sudden stillness and she rushed to the