A Little Learning

by Anne Bennett

  He walked along the shores of the lake for a while and skimmed a few stones over the water’s surface. He watched the sun turn blood red and start to disappear over the horizon. They’d soon have to make tracks for home, he knew, and it was almost dusk when he returned to where Janet lay.

  Her dress had ridden up while she slept and he could see the tops of her stockings. His pulses raced as he sat down beside her, trailed one hand up her leg and popped the suspender. She opened her eyes drowsily. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like?’ Ben said.

  He began to peel one stocking off. He felt as if he was on fire. This is madness, he told himself. Stop it!

  Eventually his sensible self prevailed. ‘Come on,’ he said to Janet. ‘Let’s go before I forget myself.’

  Instead of answering him, Janet slipped her shoulder straps down and wriggled out of her dress.

  ‘Stop,’ Ben pleaded. ‘What are you doing?’

  Janet wasn’t sure. She just knew she had to have Ben to still the throbbing ache inside her or she’d die.

  ‘God, Janet, you’re so beautiful,’ Ben cried.

  Janet pulled her pants, suspender belt and stockings off in one movement and lay naked in the dying sun. ‘Love me, Ben,’ she whispered.

  He couldn’t have stopped himself, nor could Janet have stopped him after that, but he took his time, caressing her breasts and kissing them. Suddenly she realised why Claire had moaned, because she was moaning herself. Ben went on teasing her and stroking her until she could hardly bear it and was biting on her bottom lip. Suddenly his body was on top of hers and he was kissing her throat. Then, forcing her lips open, his tongue was probing her mouth. There was a sudden sharp pain and then pleasure so exquisite she didn’t want Ben to ever stop. She cried out, and then Ben gave a shout and lay across her, spent. Tears ran down Janet’s cheeks.

  ‘Don’t cry, oh God, don’t,’ Ben begged. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.’

  ‘Ssh,’ Janet said, through her tears. ‘I’m happy. It was … just wonderful. Don’t be sorry. They make such a fuss about losing your virginity and now I’ve lost mine and I feel bloody marvellous. No one tells you how beautiful it is.’

  Ben rolled off her and kissed the tears from her eyes and cheeks. ‘I love you, love you, love you,’ he said, ‘but it still wasn’t meant to happen.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m not,’ Janet said. ‘I wanted you, I stripped off.’

  ‘I know, but if I hadn’t put my hand on your leg, aroused you like that …’ Ben sat up and put his head in his hands.

  ‘Stop it, Ben,’ Janet said. ‘It wasn’t all your fault.’ She shivered suddenly in the evening chill.

  ‘Get dressed,’ Ben said sharply, aware that her nakedness was affecting him again. ‘You’ll get a cold. You’d best put my jacket on till we get back to the car.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ said Janet, but she pulled on her pants as she spoke.

  ‘I’m not,’ Ben said shakily. ‘I don’t think you know what you do to me.’

  ‘I have an idea,’ Janet said with a laugh, ‘and I’m willing again if you are.’

  ‘God, Janet, will you please stop it,’ Ben said, but he laughed. ‘Here’s me trying to behave like a gentleman and you encouraging me otherwise. I’m not made of bloody stone, you know.’

  ‘No, I can vouch for that.’

  What could you do with her? Ben thought. And why hadn’t he realised that this might happen and brought something with him today? He knew why, because to come prepared would have cheapened her in his eyes, as if it was bound to happen, like the quick lays he’d had before in secluded parts of parks, in the back of cars, anywhere really he could find. Janet was his unofficial fiancée and had to be treated with respect. Some respect!

  He groaned. ‘Look, I’m really sorry …’ he began again.

  She put her finger to his lips and said, ‘Hush.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t you realise, you could become pregnant?’

  Janet did know, but couldn’t bring herself to care much about it at that moment.

  ‘I should never have let myself get carried away like that,’ Ben said.

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Janet said. ‘It just happened, and we do love each other, don’t we?’

  ‘You’ve no idea how much,’ Ben said, and added, ‘I’ve had trouble controlling myself this long now. We must take care to see it doesn’t happen again.’

  ‘How can we?’ Janet said. ‘We love each other. I know I’ll probably want to do it again, won’t you? Anyway, isn’t there something you can use?’ she asked. ‘So it will be safer for us both?’

  ‘How do you know about things like that?’ Ben asked, his voice high with astonishment.

  ‘Ben, I go to a girls’ school, not a nunnery,’ Janet said. ‘Boys and sex is all some girls talk about. They discuss how far they’ve let their boyfriends go, and lots have boasted they’ve gone all the way. You’d be surprised, the posher they are, the worse they are.’

  Ben wasn’t at all surprised. He’d had experience of it himself. But he didn’t want Janet to discuss what they’d done that evening with her classmates, and in particular not with his sister. ‘You won’t say …’ he began, ‘you won’t tell anyone … you know?’

  ‘I’ll never tell anyone anything,’ Janet promised. This was too precious to discuss even with Ruth. She regarded Ben critically and commented, ‘It wasn’t your first time, though, was it?’

  Ben was quiet a moment and then said, ‘No, no, it wasn’t, but I never loved anyone before, nor told anyone I loved them. It was just something that happened.’

  ‘Once? Twice? Lots of times?’ said Janet, strangely hurt.

  ‘Don’t, Janet,’ Ben said. ‘Please believe me, it’s you and only you I love. Tonight was special to me too. The other times meant nothing.’ He pulled her close and kissed her gently on the lips. ‘It’s different for a man,’ he said.

  Janet wondered if it was, or if hers was a passionate, lustful nature and she’d have gone all the way with any boyfriend. But what odds? she thought. She’d lost that prized possession that many set such store by and she wasn’t sorry! Strangely she felt better about Ben going back to medical school because of it. It was as if they’d signed a pact, entered into an agreement of some sort. It was more definite than their secret engagement that she had to keep mum about. No one need know about this either, she told herself.

  But someone knew, or guessed at least, and that someone was her Aunt Breda, who’d noticed the slight change in Janet that she herself was unaware of. She said nothing and hoped that Janet had been sensible enough to take precautions.

  For days after Ben’s departure Janet was too weepy and lethargic to care about anything much, but three weeks after she began in the Upper Sixth, she realised with horror that she, whose periods were normally as regular as clockwork, was late.

  If Ruth noticed her agitated, abstracted air, she put it down to missing her brother, and Janet felt she could confide in no one, least of all Ruth. She kept her worries to herself as the days ticked by. One day, alone in her room, she faced the possibility of her pregnancy. She had a letter to write to Ben but didn’t know how much to tell him. Should she mention the fact that she was three weeks overdue? She knew he’d been worried, and in the first letter he’d written to her, which must have been almost as soon as he’d arrived back at his tiny bedsit, he’d asked whether everything was all right. In the next two letters he’d referred more specifically to the possible consequences of their folly. But in Janet’s replies she’d ignored his concerned enquiries, and probably, she concluded now, he thought everything was fine.

  How do I tell him something that might be a false alarm? she wondered. She knew that it would be the end of her career and possibly his too. How would he cope with that, dashing all their hopes and dreams for the future? We must have been mad, Janet thought, and in a way knew that they had b
een. It had been like a magical summer, a summer when their love for each other drove reason from their heads. And now, thought Janet, is the day of reckoning. And she put her head in her hands.

  THIRTEEN

  Janet decided she’d shilly-shallied long enough. The sooner Ben knew about her suspected pregnancy the better. Hoping it wasn’t true didn’t make it go away, and plans had to be made. She gave a huge sigh as she drew her writing pad towards her and picked up her pen.

  She’d only got as far as ‘Dear Ben’ when there was a pounding on the door. She knew her father was in the bathroom having a wash and her mother round at Breda’s, so she went down to answer it, wondering who it could be. Most neighbours didn’t knock, but entered the house by the back kitchen door.

  When she saw who stood on the doorstep, she stepped back in amazement. It was Gloria Marsden and her mother, but what a different-looking Gloria to the one Janet had had the confrontation with months before. This Gloria wore a shapeless mac, no stockings and plastic shoes on her feet. She had lank, greasy hair to her shoulders and was devoid of make-up. Her face was chalk white and her eyes red-rimmed, and there was an ugly-looking green and blue bruise on one cheek. Her lip was cut and swollen.

  Mrs Marsden, beside her, was a plump woman. She had an old coat tied round her and slippers on her feet. Her red hair was streaked with grey and her eyes glittered with malice in a purplish-red face.

  I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her, Janet thought, trying not to look at the woman’s treble chins sagging below her face.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘Your father in?’

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Janet replied, and her manner clearly said: ‘Not that you’d have any business with him.’ She didn’t offer any more information, and Mrs Marsden was outraged.

  She stepped forward, causing Janet to take a step backwards into the hall as she said threateningly, ‘You best ask me in, girl, unless you want me to shout my business over the whole sodding street.’

  Janet’s eyes slid from Mrs Marsden to her daughter, and suddenly she knew why they were there. It was written all over Gloria’s face, the same panic and fear that Janet had been coming to terms with in her bedroom. She felt her own stomach tighten in sympathy.

  God, she thought, we might be in the same boat.

  She stepped back further and opened the door to the living room, and Mrs Marsden and her daughter pushed forward.

  Bert was there. He’d taken off his shirt for his wash and left his vest on. His braces were hanging down by his sides and he was rubbing the towel round his neck as he came into the room. ‘Was that the door I heard?’ he was saying. But his sentence was cut off midstream.

  ‘You Travers?’ Mrs Marsden demanded, before Bert had time to get his breath back.

  ‘Who wants to know?’ Bert said, wishing he didn’t feel at such a disadvantage dressed as he was in just his vest and sagging trousers.

  ‘Never mind that,’ Mrs Marsden said. ‘Don’t act bleeding awkward with me. You know who I am and if you’d got any bleeding sense you’d know why I’m here!’

  ‘Suppose you tell me,’ Bert suggested.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ Mrs Marsden shrieked. ‘Oh, I’ll tell you all right. Your lad’s been seeing my lass, and he’s took her down, the dirty bugger. I want to know what’s to be done about it.’

  ‘Took her down? You mean …’

  ‘Only means one thing, you bleeding fool.’ She jerked her thumb towards her daughter and said, ‘This silly sod’s expecting and your lad’s responsible.’

  Janet wondered why Gloria just stood with her hands by her sides, head hanging, as if all the life had been sucked out of her. Or beaten out of her, she thought, and gave a sudden shiver.

  ‘How do I know it was my boy responsible?’ Bert demanded. ‘Has the lass no tongue in her head?’

  ‘Tell him,’ Mrs Marsden said, giving Gloria a punch on her arm. ‘Tell him it’s his son’s sodding baby!’

  Gloria gave a brief nod.

  ‘What did you do, knock it out of her?’ Bert said, eyeing the woman with distaste. For all his shouting and bluster, Bert wasn’t one to wallop or beat his children. If anything, he was too soft.

  ‘Well, what’s a father to do when his lass is took down?’ Mrs Marsden demanded fiercely.

  ‘Let’s get a few things clear here and now,’ said Bert. ‘First, it takes two to make a baby. Secondly, she isn’t the first and won’t be the last, and thirdly, if my lad’s responsible, he’ll do the decent thing and marry the girl.’

  Marry her! Janet couldn’t believe her father was saying that Duncan had to saddle himself with Gloria Marsden when the child might not even be his. Gloria had been running around with lads since she started secondary school. She was known as the estate bike, for God’s sake. Their Duncan couldn’t marry her!

  ‘Go and fetch your mother,’ Bert barked at Janet. ‘And you,’ he said, indicating the two visitors with a jerk of his head, ‘best sit down and we’ll discuss this.’

  ‘There ain’t no bleeding discussion needed,’ Mrs Marsden was saying as Janet headed for the door. She didn’t wait to hear her father’s reply, but ran round quickly to her Auntie Breda’s, where her mother had gone for the evening. She burst through the kitchen door and surprised them both sitting at the table. This was no time for politeness. ‘You’d better go home, Mom. Dad’s got visitors,’ she said tersely.

  ‘Visitors?’

  ‘Yes, unwelcome ones,’ Janet said. ‘Gloria Marsden and her mother.’ She looked at her aunt and said: ‘Apparently Gloria is pregnant and has named our Duncan as the father.’

  ‘Our Duncan!’ Betty said in disbelief, getting to her feet. ‘Our Duncan would have more sense than to get mixed up with a Marsden,’ she declared.

  Breda’s eyes met Janet’s troubled ones and she shrugged as if to say that Janet might as well tell her mother. Janet sighed and said:

  ‘Mom, he did go out with Gloria. I saw him and so did Auntie Breda.’

  ‘Gloria Marsden!’ exclaimed Betty, and turned to Breda and Janet accusingly. ‘You two knew he was going out with one of the Marsdens and never said a word to me?’

  ‘It didn’t last five minutes,’ Breda said. ‘By the time we knew for sure it was Gloria he was going out with, it was finished.’

  ‘Well, it lasted long enough,’ said Betty, and Janet thought, she’s right, half an hour’s enough if you’re that way inclined.

  ‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ Janet said. ‘You won’t want me around.’

  ‘No, give us half an hour or so on our own,’ Betty said. ‘That will be time enough to send the besom packing.’

  Breda waited till the door closed on Betty then said to Janet, ‘D’you think it’s Duncan’s baby?’

  Janet shrugged. ‘It could be,’ she said. ‘He’s probably … well, you know. But my guess is Gloria doesn’t know whose it is and has just picked on Duncan.’ She sighed and went on, ‘You should have seen her. It was as if she didn’t care any more about anything. One cheek had a huge bruise on it and her lip was split and her eyes so red and swollen she must have spent hours weeping. Old Mrs Marsden admitted her husband had beaten her to get the name of the father out of her.’ She shrugged. ‘If I was her, in her situation, I’d pick on the first person I’d been with who came from a decent family and say it was their baby, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I suppose,’ Breda agreed.

  There was silence between them for a minute. Both were busy with their own thoughts. Then Breda said, ‘Well, what happens now? What does old Ma Marsden expect Duncan to do, marry the girl?’

  Janet nodded. ‘Dad said he must if the baby is his.’

  ‘Poor sod.’

  ‘Which one, Auntie Breda, Gloria or Duncan?’ Janet asked.

  ‘Both, chick,’ Breda said. ‘What are they really but bleeding babes in arms, the pair of them? And then what else could the girl do? She must have been desperate when you think.’ There was silence for a minute o
r two, and then Breda suddenly said, ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Me?’ Janet said surprised. ‘What about me?’

  ‘You are all right, aren’t you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Janet snapped defensively.

  ‘You’re not in the same situation as Gloria?’ Breda asked, and reached out for Janet’s hand. ‘Don’t think I’m prying for the sake of it, because I’m not, it’s only because I love you and care about you.’

  ‘Why d’you think I should be in the same state as Gloria?’ Janet asked, and Breda realised with a sinking heart that she hadn’t dismissed such a possibility.

  ‘Just something about you,’ Breda said. ‘A certain look you have, a different expression. Oh, I don’t know how to explain it, it’s not something you can put your finger on, but it’s there, and then …’ Here Breda stopped, then gave a sigh and said, ‘And your mom said you haven’t had your monthlies for a while.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ Janet groaned, and then faced Breda and admitted, ‘I am late.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Three weeks.’

  ‘And did you … have you …?’

  ‘Yes, Auntie Breda, we have.’

  ‘Without using anything?’

  ‘Yes.’ Janet’s voice was just above a whisper.

  ‘You silly sod!’

  ‘Oh, Auntie Breda, we didn’t mean it to happen.’

  ‘Oh, you stupid bugger,’ Aunt Breda burst out angrily. ‘D’you think anyone in your situation means it to happen? You get carried away and that’s that. “I didn’t mean it to happen” could be written on most of the marriage lines on this estate at least.’

  ‘What shall I do?’ wailed Janet.

  Breda gathered Janet into her arms and rocked her, saying, ‘Pray girl, pray like you’ve never prayed before, and God might take pity on you, stupid bugger that you are.’

  Later that night, Janet crept back home. Her parents were in the kitchen. Bert was wondering how to contact Duncan, who was stationed in Germany, and Betty was planning his wedding.