Brides of War

by June Tate

  ‘I’ve been painting the bedroom and was too tired to cook, so here I am.’

  He reached out and touched her hair. ‘You’ve got paint all over you.’

  Laughing she said, ‘Well I’ve been painting the ceiling and it isn’t easily done without a few splashes.’

  The waitress came over and he ordered a club sandwich.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked.

  ‘A double-decker toasted sandwich with chicken, bacon and salad,’ he explained. When it arrived she was fascinated to see an orange stick keeping the layers together. It looked delicious, she thought, and stored the information away for next time.

  Rick was easy to talk to, she found. He was bright, funny and good company. He encouraged her to try the apple pie, saying it was the best in the area. Then they had coffee to follow.

  ‘So how’s my brother treating you, Gracie, is he looking after you well?’

  ‘Yes, he’s fine … we’re fine,’ she said, with feeling.

  He seemed amused. ‘Take it easy, I only asked. Had you said he wasn’t then I’d have had words with him. He’s a lucky guy, I only hope he appreciates it, that’s all I’m saying.’

  She cast a suspicious glance at him.

  ‘No need to look at me like that, Gracie honey. You’re a member of the family now, so I must make sure you’re happy.’

  ‘That’s nice of you Nick, but what I do is not really any of your business, you know that.’

  He laughed loudly. ‘You’re a smart girl; there’s no fooling you. I just want you to know if things go wrong, I’m always around to pick up the pieces.’

  ‘Yes I bet,’ she said sarcastically. Getting up, she said, ‘Must get on, I need to pay my bill, then it’s back to work.’

  ‘I’ll pick up the tab,’ he said. ‘A treat for all your hard work.’

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ she argued.

  ‘My pleasure. When it’s all done, do I get an invitation to see the place?’

  ‘If Jeff invites you, yes.’

  With an enigmatic smile he said, ‘We both know that’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Thanks for the meal,’ she said and left the diner.

  Gracie had a bounce in her step as she walked home. It was nice to have company for a change. She knew that there was trouble between the brothers, which was a shame because Rick seemed like a nice person. A little dangerous perhaps, which if she were honest, added to the pleasure of his company. But she wouldn’t mention meeting him to Jeff, especially after their spat last night. It would only enrage him and that she didn’t need.

  Rick sat and finished his coffee, musing over his conversation with his new sister-in-law. Cute girl. Smart, he liked that in a woman. Much too good for his brother who wouldn’t appreciate Gracie in the same way that he would. His brother was much too staid. Gracie was a girl who could be great fun and Jeff had never had a sense of humour. As for spontaneity, he wouldn’t understand it. Such a waste for such a girl, she definitely married the wrong brother! Then he chuckled softly. He’d bide his time, but he intended to get to know Gracie better. Much better.

  When Jeff came home that evening, Gracie greeted him without rancour, for which he looked relieved. But when he sat down to dinner he looked at his plate and asked, ‘What’s this dish then?’

  Gracie had been cooking all the British dishes she was used to, as often as she could and today she’d made another.

  ‘It’s made with minced beef and mashed potatoes on the top. At home we call it cottage pie.’

  He picked some up with his fork and tasted it. He saw the expectancy on her face.

  ‘It’s nice,’ he said, not wanting to upset her further. ‘Don’t suppose there’s any cornbread to go with it?’

  His mother had made and served cornbread with every meal, Gracie remembered. She’d not liked it much.

  ‘No, but there’s plenty of vegetables and I’ve made an apple pie for desert.’ She glared at him, daring him to complain. He didn’t.

  After the meal, Jeff rose from the table and put on his coat, which surprised Gracie.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘Me and some of the boys are meeting up to play poker,’ he explained. ‘Before you came out here, we used to meet every week and they asked me along tonight to make up the numbers.’

  ‘But poker is played for money!’ she exclaimed.

  Laughing he said, ‘Of course it is.’

  ‘But Jeff, we’re saving for a house! You can’t afford to go. What happens if you lose?’

  The smile left his face. ‘Now you listen to me young lady. I’ve gone along with your money schemes. We could have saved much more had we stayed with my parents, but no, you had to move out. But you can’t have everything your own way. Tonight’s for the guys and I’m going to enjoy myself!’ He slammed the door as he left.

  Gracie sat stunned at this turn of events, then she remembered that today was payday and he’d not given her any money!

  It was almost midnight when Gracie heard her husband return. There was much banging and clattering in the living room and she wondered what on earth he was doing, but when he eventually staggered into the bedroom she realised why. Jeff was drunk and legless.

  He looked at her with an alcoholic grin. ‘Gracie honey! Did I wake you?’ He made his way unsteadily to his side of the bed and with great difficulty, removed his clothing. Then he crawled in beside her.

  He reeked of beer as he turned towards her, ‘Come to Papa.’ His speech was slurred.

  She was livid! ‘Get off me,’ she cried. ‘You’re drunk!’

  ‘Aw, come on honey, I’ve just had a few drinks with the boys, now be a good wife. Come on, do your duty.’

  She flung back the covers and got out of bed. ‘Duty? How dare you! Yes I am your wife but I am nobody’s duty! That’s disrespectful. You can damn well sleep on your own!’ She grabbed a blanket off the bed and went into the living room. Within minutes she could hear loud snoring coming from the bedroom.

  Gracie made a cup of coffee to give herself something to do, then sat alone on the settee, tears brimming in her eyes. This was not how she had envisaged married life at all.

  It was bad enough living with his mother and she’d hoped that on their own it would be better and, in time, they’d have a home of their own and a family, but she now wondered if her dreams of the future were futile. If her husband was a gambler, that was really bad news. She had enough money for the week ahead from what they had saved, but if this happened often … she didn’t dare think about the consequence. She curled up on the settee, covered herself with the blanket and eventually fell asleep.

  The following morning when the alarm clock rang, Gracie was already up, preparing breakfast but, not hearing the sound of movement in the bedroom, went in. Jeff was still sound asleep. She shook him violently until he opened his eyes and gave her a bleary look.

  ‘Get up Jeff! It’s time to get dressed for work!’

  ‘He winced. ‘Do you have to shout so loudly?’ He reluctantly put his legs over the side of the bed. ‘Oh my head!’

  Gracie ignored him, returned to the kitchen and made some strong coffee and when Jeff did appear she made him eat some porridge to line his stomach. He didn’t have the energy to argue. When eventually he put his coat on to leave for work she spoke. ‘Before you go, I’d like my housekeeping money please. We can sort out the rest tonight.’

  He paused by the door and took out a few dollars from his pocket and handed them over.

  Gracie looked at them. ‘What’s this, it isn’t nearly enough!’

  With a sheepish look he said, ‘Sorry Gracie, that’s all there is. I had a bad night last night. I lost the rest.’

  She was speechless with rage and he took that moment to make his escape.

  ‘Got to go I’m late, we’ll talk tonight.’ The door was quickly closed behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  In the financial district of New York City, Ross Johnson, wa
lked around his new offices with a smile of satisfaction. The large space had been turned into separate offices for him and his two lawyers who’d moved with him. A reception desk was situated just inside the entrance and the central part was laid out in an open plan for the secretaries to work, separated only with partitions, which made the area light and airy.

  The walls had been painted in the palest green which offset the potted plants very well. There was a water cooler and coffee machine in one corner and copy machines on another wall. It was all very attractive and workable, and the staff were delighted. They were now open for business.

  All Ross’s clients had followed him, as had the clients of the other two lawyers, but Ross had set up appointments to see one or two large firms, hoping to convince them that moving their business to him and his associates would be to their advantage. To his delight, one had accepted, bringing a million dollars a year into their coffers.

  He was delighted with his success as this had been what he’d wanted his father to do and had been sharply rebuked for such ideas. Leo hadn’t wanted to extend his business into corporate litigation. The idea unsettled him. He’d forged his own way of doing business for years and he was scared of changing to such a degree, but now Ross was ecstatic with his new client. All law firms had their own grapevine and Leo Johnson soon heard about Ross’s new client. He was scathing in his opinion.

  ‘That boy comes home from the war filled with new ideas, but he’s taken on more than he can handle now. Before very long he’ll come unstuck; well he’d better not come running to me for help. When he walked out of the family business, he shut the door very tightly behind him!’

  Whilst Ross was busy, Valerie had joined the art class and was learning how to use watercolour. She was delighted with the result and had set up their spare bedroom as a studio because the light was so good. She had rediscovered her love of drawing and when she had any free time, she would take her canvas and easel with her, find a scene that was interesting and paint. One morning she wandered into Central Park, settled in a quiet corner and lost herself in her work. She was used to people stopping and watching. Sometimes they would comment, other times just walk on, but it didn’t distract her. She was pleased to talk to those who wanted to chat and often it would lead to really interesting conversations.

  ‘I have to say Mrs Johnson, that you have grasped the use of watercolours extremely well. That is delightful!’

  She looked up and saw Max Brennen looking over her shoulder.

  ‘Max! What a surprise! How are you?’

  ‘Very well, thanks. Tell me, when did you start using watercolours?’

  She told him about joining the art class in the Village. ‘You were right of course, it does give my drawing more depth, brings them alive really.’

  He knew about the class as it wasn’t far from the gallery where he displayed his own paintings and his apartment. ‘You know, Valerie, you have a real talent, you should hold an exhibition of your own.’

  She felt her cheeks flush at the compliment. ‘Oh I don’t know about that, but the class is holding an exhibition in two weeks’ time and a couple of my paintings are among the exhibits.’

  ‘That’s splendid. I’ll make sure I come along. I have to fly I’m afraid or I’d invite you to come for a coffee somewhere. See you soon.’

  Valerie was thrilled that he liked her work. As for giving an exhibition of her own, she felt that was a step too far, but she was excited at the thought that he would be at the class exhibition because she so admired his work. She also wanted Ross to see how she’d improved. He’d never come into her studio and seen anything she was working on. Whenever he came home, he relaxed with a drink and a meal and then most evenings he brought work home with him. She’d not complained, knowing how hard he was trying to build his own business and she so wanted him to succeed, just to prove to his family that his ideas for the future had been solid.

  Two weeks later, Valerie was standing nervously looking at her paintings on the wall in the hall of the art class, which had been set up for the evening’s viewing. She stood back and eyed them critically. She thought she couldn’t have improved them in any way, but as usual, she was fearful of failure. She so hoped that Ross would be impressed.

  The doors opened and people started to arrive. To everyone’s delight, it was very well attended. Valerie was helping to hand out the glasses of wine and chatting to various people who were enquiring about the paintings and the class. She kept glancing at her watch. Ross was late!

  A hand held her arm gently. ‘Hello Valerie.’

  ‘Max! You came.’

  ‘But of course, I told you I would so why are you so surprised?’

  Shrugging she said, ‘Oh I don’t know, I thought you might be too busy.’

  ‘What nonsense. Come on, show me your work,’

  They stood in front of her paintings. One was of an old woman, sitting on a stool with a knitted shawl around her shoulders, feeding the birds – the lines on her face and hands, clearly depicting her age. It was a simple picture but it had an honesty about it. The second was of a view of Central Park with two children feeding ducks. Valerie had cleverly caught the delight on the faces of the children. It was charming.

  Max looked at both for a long time in silence, then looking at Valerie he said, ‘I had no idea you did portraits too. The sketches you showed me in your apartment were scenic. These are quite extraordinary!’

  She frowned. ‘In what way extraordinary?’

  Laughing, Max said, ‘Relax! That wasn’t a criticism. What is so impressive is the detail. First, the old woman’s face. Every line shows her age, the hands too. You’ve caught her spirit. The same with the children. Here is the innocence of the young, clearly depicted.’

  Valerie was at a loss for words. She painted because she loved it.

  Max looked at her and smiled. ‘You know the best thing of all? You have no idea just how good you really are.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she murmured, overcome by his praise.

  ‘Come on, let’s look at the rest of the exhibits.’

  It was like a lesson to Valerie. Max talked to her about several of the paintings, discussing the finer points of some and how others could be improved and how to set about it. Eventually it was time to close.

  ‘Your husband not here?’ asked Max.

  Valerie looked at her watch. ‘He said he was coming but …’

  ‘Right!’ Max took her by the arm. ‘I’m taking you out to dinner and we’ll have a glass of champagne to celebrate your success.’

  She was so disappointed that Ross hadn’t showed up that she didn’t hesitate to accept.

  He took her to a Greek restaurant and introduced her to their particular cuisine. The owner knew Max and chatted with them, making Valerie blush when he complimented Max on his beautiful young companion. They drank wine and champagne and, at the end of the dinner, the waiters and the owner lined up and danced to Greek music, eventually calling on the customers to join in. Valerie and Max included. It was great fun.

  When the music stopped, Valerie and Max returned to their table, breathless from the dancing and the laughter.

  ‘Oh, Max, that’s the best evening I’ve had since I arrived in New York!’

  ‘Really?’ He looked surprised. ‘Then you have been sadly missing out. This city is built to be enjoyed. I’ll just have to show you how I guess.’ He held her gaze, waiting for her reaction.

  Filled with bonhomie, wine and champagne, Valerie returned his gaze. ‘I’d like that very much!’

  They left the restaurant and he put her in a taxi and insisted on paying the driver. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said and waved her off.

  When she arrived home, she found Ross sitting at the dining room table, working.

  ‘There you are!’ He looked at his watch. ‘You’re home late.’

  ‘You didn’t come to my exhibition!’ she exclaimed angrily.

  He dismissed her lightly. ‘Sorry, darl
ing, I really couldn’t spare the time. I wanted to finish this tonight.’

  ‘You couldn’t spare an hour for your wife? Was it really that important? Couldn’t your work wait just an hour longer?’

  He could see the anger in her eyes. ‘Well, darling, it’s not as if the exhibition was professional. It was just a display of the school’s students’ work.’

  ‘It was important to me! You expect me to show you a hundred per cent loyalty and you get a hundred and fifty, but you couldn’t spare an hour to give me the same. To you my work is just a hobby, something to keep me from getting bored. Nothing of any consequence – you have no idea!’

  She swept out of the room and into the bedroom, undressed and stood under the shower until she’d calmed down, then went to bed.

  When Ross climbed in beside her and put his arm around her she moved away.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried.

  When Valerie rose the next morning, she found an empty apartment. Ross had left early and she was glad. She was still seething from the previous night’s scene. As she ate her toast, she vowed to show him. Max said she had talent. Well she’d work hard until she was good enough to hold her own exhibition, then Ross would see she was serious about her work. She took Max Brennen’s card from her handbag and rang his number.

  Later that afternoon, Valerie rang the bell at Max’s studio and was greeted warmly.

  ‘Valerie, come in.’ He offered her a seat and with a smile asked, ‘What can I do for you? You said you wanted my advice.’

  ‘Yes, Max I do. You say I have real talent; well, I want to learn more. I want to do this seriously, not as a hobby. Do you think that’s at all possible?’

  He looked delighted. ‘Without a doubt! You have the talent, I’ve told you that. All you need is more technical know-how. These things have to be taught. But yes, I’d say you were more than halfway there.’

  ‘Who would you recommend as a teacher?’

  He laughed. ‘Are you kidding? I’ll teach you then, when you are a success, I can take some of the credit!’