And the MEEK Shall Inherit the Earth. Book One

Chapter Six The Storm before the Lull

Jennie was unable to get to sleep and wandered over to where Robert was sitting, smoking and staring into the distance.  They opened a bottle of wine and then took generous draughts from a flask of absinthe in the hope that it would knock them out.  They leaned against each other for comfort and reflected on the horror that they had witnessed and, as they saw shooting stars and distant, silent, sheet lightning flare up the firmament,  they were united in grief and the feeling of  incomprehension that such a beautiful part of the planet could be made a living hell due to the acts of evil men.  They fell into a comfortable silence, lost in each other's thoughts.

Jennie was remembering Harry Holmes and their first meeting in Barcelona, shortly after the carnage at Guernica.  They were both members of the POUM workers' militia.  POUM and the anarchists were both left-wing, anti-fascist, anti-Stalin brigades.  They were fighting in support of the democratically elected government which was now being toppled by Franco and his fellow fascists.  Franco was supported by Hitler's Nazis, the Italian fascists and the Portuguese government.and was supplied with modern weapons and trained in experimental logistics such as the blitzkrieg.  The communists were aided by Russia but at a great cost to Spain's gold reserves.  The POUM and anarchists relied on volunteers and were poorly equipped, often with ancient rifles, such as German Mausers dating from the previous century, that would sometimes backfire and kill the rifleman or woman.

After she fled to Barcelona, Jennie nursed Eric Blair - who wrote under the name of George Orwell - and who'd been shot through a lung with a sniper's bullet.  He explained to her his pseudonym; George after the patron saint of England, a symbol of his patriotism, and Orwell after a river because he loved to go fishing.  He made a huge impression on her and she even enjoyed his old-Etonian accent.

Then she met Harry - a youthful, all-smiling, all-white-toothy, all-American boy.  He was four years younger than her and his boyish smile appealed to her maternal instincts - at first.  His sense of humour and indomitable optimism helped her over the terror she'd witnessed.  Together they'd endured lice, hunger, rats as big as cats and the gut-wrenching stench of fields filled with human excrement.   He'd introduced her to absinthe which  helped them both through the bitter winter and battlefield boredom.  When the communists declared that the POUM was a secret Fascist organization they realized that it was too late to aid the Spanish workers anymore and also Jennie had missed her period.  The rest of the world had missed an opportunity to nip Fascism in the bud and now would pay a heavy price.  The world's statesmen had refused to see Fascism as a hideous monster intent on the Earth's domination and the enslavement of its people.  

Jennie and Harry had struggled through the battlefields of Andalucia and crossed the border into Gibraltar.  From there they boarded a Royal Navy ship and escaped to England, where Phoebe was born.  'Ah - what good times we had in England,' she reminisced.  They rented an idyllic little house with honeysuckle around the door and called, appropriately, "Honeymoon Cottage" in Love Lane in the tranquil village of Burbage in Leicestershire.  They would awake to the sound of a peacock in its pen in the nearby infant school and listen to Phoebe cooing in her cot - she was always a contented child.  Harry would make the breakfast and bring it back to bed with a pot of tea.  Later, as the roast dinner slowly cooked, they would take Phoebe across a field of cows and into the woods where the fresh air would revive their hearty appetite.  Sometimes, they would walk to nearby Hinckley and do some shopping or, if they felt really adventurous, they'd catch the train to Nuneaton, Leicester or Birmingham.  'Wonderful, wonderful times' she thought as she drifted off to sleep.  She was dreaming that Harry was with her, she could feel his hands on her shoulders and the weight of his body on top of her's.  She suddenly realized that this was no dream.  Robert was on top of her, feeling her breasts and kissing her neck.  Perhaps it was the warmth of her recollections or the warmth of the absinthe, but she only protested briefly and then thought,  'Why not? - it's been so long - so very, very long and Robert's an attractive man.'

She imagined Harry there, Harry's hands caressing her body, Harry's lips kissing her mouth, neck, breasts; Harry's tongue playing around her nipples until they were erect with excitement.  'God that feels so good!'  Harry's head now going lower to her stomach and lower still until he'd undressed her completely and his head was between her legs gently kissing her and flicking his tongue over her as delicately as the flap of a butterfly's wing.  She was awash with pleasure when he finally penetrated her.  As he thrust and gasped and groaned she continued to imagine Harry until waves of ecstasy swept through her body from head-to-toe; the swells grew stronger - her back began to arch suddenly and her hips started to convulse uncontrollably and then she realized that she was throwing Robert around and around while he emitted silent screams of pleasure and his face was contorted as if in pain and then she pushed him off.  

"Ouch!  Ouch! Mon cul!" he yelled as he orgasm-ed on the ground.  

It took them both a little time to come back to earth and then Jennie couldn't contain a splutter of laughter as she recalled Robert's shocked expression as she'd thrown him off of her and he'd landed unceremoniously on his bum with his groin twitching like an electrocuted eel.

"What are you laughing at?" he queried.

"Oh, nothing really."  

She noticed a strange look in his eyes.  "Now don't you go getting all serious on me, Robert.  I have a daughter whom I adore and had a husband I'll never forget.  No-one could ever replace him."

"I'm sorry, Jennie.  I've been in love with you ever since I first set eyes on you.  I can't help myself; I'll love you until the day that I die."

They smiled at each other and then lay together for the rest of the night as close as only two lonely people can be close and yet still be strangers, for this time tomorrow they thought that they may be dead.