‘You dirty minded bitch! Great-Gran knows that I bath her.’
‘Great-Gran knows nothing of the kind; not how you bath her. Why is it that when she’s about you go into the bathroom dressed, and you come out dressed. But when you know that she’s safely tucked up in bed, you come out with a towel around you. And when she’s been confined there for days you sometimes haven’t bothered with a towel. Of course, you make sure that Gran isn’t about, either: the bathroom door used to be locked until I took the key away…You do! You lift your hand to me and touch me just once with it and I promise you you won’t be able to walk for days, because I’ll smash every movable thing in this room over you. Now, let me tell you, and this is final, in future she will be bathed before you come in, and you attempt to take her into that bathroom once again and, boy, you won’t know what’s hit you.’
‘You know something? I’ll do for you. I will, I’ll do for you one of these days. You try to separate me from her in any way and I’ll do murder. She’s mine. I’ve said that from the beginning. I’ve thumped it into your ears that she’s mine and she’ll remain mine. Do you hear? Do what you like, but she’ll remain mine, because she already knows she’s mine.’
If he had turned from her and rushed from the room, banging the door after him, she would not have felt half as afraid as when he backed slowly from her, his arm bent and his forefinger wagging at her. At the door he did not immediately turn and grab the handle but put his hand behind him and slowly opened the door and in doing so had to walk forward a step. Then he paused before slowly going through it and closing the door quietly after him.
Peggy sank into a chair. Her eyes were tightly closed, her mouth wide. He was mad, mad where that child was concerned, and he meant what he said. The feeling of danger that he had left behind him floated round her like a fog, already darkening her life ahead. Then, as if it had become suddenly tangible she sprang from the chair and threw out her arms as if pushing it aside and, her eyes wide now, she said aloud, ‘I’ll have to do something. I’ll tell Great-Gran. Yes, I will!’
She had told Great-Gran and now she stood looking down on this eighty-two year old woman who was dressed as a woman of forty might have been, in a pale blue cotton dress, square-necked, which showed surprisingly firm flesh for one her age, short-sleeved, which in this case exposed her real age by the sagging flesh of the underarm. The thick grey hair had been tinted a reddish brown, a process to which she had succumbed only for the last two years, having previously been free in expressing her opinion of those stupid women who aimed to camouflage their age by dyeing their hair. Finally, her face, wrinkled around the eyes and mouth, but the skin held firmly in place by good bone formation.
This was her great-grandmother speaking and she couldn’t believe her ears. And the fear in her grew. Just a short while ago she had thought that nothing could increase the feeling of dread that Andrew had left behind him in the drawing room. But she had been wrong, for added to it now was a feeling of utter hopelessness: she was being confronted by a combined force.
‘He loves the child, adores her, always has. And she’s still little more than a baby. I’m surprised you should think it’s anything other than natural that he should want to bath her.’
She found herself bending over the old woman and hissing at her, ‘If it’s so natural, Great-Gran, why did a woman approach me today, the mother of one of the little girls at school, and suggest that my daughter was fantasising about her father being in the bath with her. The woman was definitely shocked, and by the fact that I’ve never bathed my child. And I can tell you this: I’m amazed at your new modern outlook; I’ve always known you to be as strait-laced as a Victorian corset and sticking to the narrow principles of that time in which you were brought up. Well, I can tell you something; I’m on my own in this house from now on and I shall see to her bathing, and should he attempt to stop me, I’ve told him what I’ll do; I’ll brain him with the first thing I get my hands on. You can emphasise that for me, Great-Gran, when you are having one of your little palavers with him. And while I’m on, there’s another thing I’ll say: I regret the day I was made to marry him. You engineered that. If you had said the word, Mam would have gone along with you and I could have had the child and had a life of my own. But what have I had since she was born, even before that? Since Father died and Mam walked out I’ve had the running of this house on my shoulders. I only got Rosie’s help because he put it to you, of course, it would be in a very nice way, that I was too tired to give him his rights.’
‘Well, there, let me tell you, you made a big mistake. A wife has duties and to please her husband is one of them. You’ve a long way to go yet and a lot to learn. You don’t keep a man by turning your back on him in bed, nor criticising everything he does, such as the innocent act of bathing his little child.’
‘Oh, God in heaven, woman, shut up!’ Peggy stepped back from the old woman. ‘Shut up! You know nothing about it. Turning my back on my husband, you say; and yes, I did, because I could still smell the whores of Bog’s End on him. Is that news to you? His evening jaunts to this meeting or that are all phoney.’
‘You’re imagining things, girl. It’s right what he says: it’s impossible to talk to you.’
‘Oh, does he? So he says that? Well, he doesn’t find it impossible to talk to you, does he? He’s given you a new lease of life, hasn’t he, with his flattery, his sucking-up.’
‘You’d better leave me before I lose my temper with you, girl, and say something I’ll be sorry for.’
Peggy did not move, but after a moment of silence she said, ‘I can divorce him. I can easily get proof.’
‘That would be the stupidest thing you ever did because he’ll fight you for your child and he’ll win.’
‘Because you’d help him win, wouldn’t you, Great-Gran? You’d help him.’
‘I’d do what I think is right. I always have.’
‘My God! You poor, hoodwinked old woman.’ And on this Peggy turned and almost flew from the room.
In her own room she stood, her hands clenched and pressed tightly against her breastbone as if to ease the terrible ache and fear whirling there. She couldn’t believe it. That old woman across the landing who was judged to be clear thinking; so much so, even at her age, that she visited the factory every Friday and went over the books with Henry. And should she at any time be incapacitated, Henry had to bring the books to her, and she would scrutinise every penny that went out or came in. She had been mean with money all her life, using her daughter and granddaughter as servants, and even herself at times during the last seven or so years as unhired help, except for the time that Rosie was here.
She felt lost, that her youth had gone, been sucked away by that vain and stupid old woman who had become enamoured of the young boy who had turned into a smooth-talking man. Likely it was because she had recognised in him from the first the trait matching her own: the ability to make money, for especially was she enamoured of his Sunday second-hand car sales and of the fact that he insisted on working on that day and handling this side of the business himself.
When a tap came on the door she didn’t answer, but when it came again, she called quietly, ‘Come in.’
Victoria came towards her, saying, ‘By! You’ve upset the apple cart today, haven’t you?’
‘She’s told you? She’s told you about the bathing?’
‘Yes; yes, her version of it. But I agree with you, girl. It’s time that was stopped. She’s only a child still, but she’s a very knowing child, impressionable and sensitive. Yes, it’s about time that was stopped. But you’re going to have a fight on your hands. Have you any positive proof that he goes to Bog’s End?’
‘Only that Frank has seen him a number of times coming out of a special house down there. He told May, and she told me to be careful. But I’d been careful for a long time before that, because I’d sensed something. I could get him watched, and that would be evidence for a divorce.’
‘I wouldn�
�t do that, girl; he’d fight you for the child. He’d not get her, I know, but he would be granted some access to her.’
And her Gran was voicing her mother’s own words: ‘The best thing you can do is to hang on, as grim as it will be for you, until she’s able to make a choice. And then you’ll still be a young woman and Charlie will still be waiting.’
‘Oh, Gran, what d’you mean? What d’you know about Charlie and me?’
‘Only that he loves you, always has and always will. He’s that kind of a man. It hasn’t pleased May but she’s accepted it. You’re lucky in a way that he’s there, and lucky, too, that he’s got his music and that it’s bringing him a name, for it’s some sort of compensation in the meantime, helping his waiting.’
‘Oh Gran.’ She put her arms around the older woman and muttered, ‘I felt so alone, entirely on my own, a few minutes ago, but I’ve got you and I’ve got Charlie and May and Frank. Four to two.’
‘Yes, four to two, lass. Just hang on to that, four to two. So come on downstairs and we’ll have a sherry. It’s another occasion. Let’s look at it as refreshment before the battle.’
Four
‘Yes, Daddy, I love you. You know I love you.’
‘But do you love me more than you love your mother?’
‘I love Mammy, Daddy. Of course I love Mammy.’
‘But do you love me more? Say you love me more. Go on, say it.’
‘Daddy, you’re hurting my arms.’
‘Oh, pet, pet, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t Daddy, don’t; you’ll mess up my dress.’
‘Mess up your dress? Why do you want to go to a party today? You’re going to have a big party tomorrow.’
‘But Gwen asked me; she’s my best friend. And there’s a clown coming and her father’s getting dressed up as Santa Claus, and…Oh Daddy, don’t.’
‘You used to like me kissing you.’
‘No, I didn’t. Well, I mean, Daddy, you’re a wet kisser.’
The young girl laughed, then after a moment said, ‘Don’t be vexed, Daddy.’
‘I’m not vexed.’
‘Yes you are. I know when you’re vexed.’
He was kneeling by the side of the bed, his arms about her waist, his head on a level with hers. ‘Say after me, I love you, Daddy, better than anyone else in the world.’
‘But…but I love Mammy, too. Oh don’t, Daddy…’
When the door burst open he sat back on his heels and almost toppled over, and the child straightened up from where she had been thrust against the bed.
Peggy had moved quickly towards her and lifted her bodily. Then she thrust a foot against her husband’s side, saying, ‘You had your answer, didn’t you?’
In the corridor, hurrying towards the stairs, Peggy said, ‘Now don’t cry, don’t cry. It’ll be all right. You don’t want to go to the party crying, do you?’…
They were in the car when Emma said quietly, ‘You can love two people at the same time, can’t you, Mammy?’
Peggy paused before answering, ‘Yes; yes, you can love two people at the same time.’ Oh yes, that was certainly true: didn’t she love this child and didn’t she love Charlie? So yes, her daughter could love two people at the same time. Nevertheless, she was already having to pay for it.
When, a few minutes later, she stopped the car and said, ‘I’ll call for you at seven. Now have a nice time,’ Emma said, ‘You won’t fight with Daddy, will you Mammy, not tonight, or tomorrow?’
Peggy leaned over and drew her daughter into her arms, saying, ‘Oh my dear, no, no. I promise you there’ll be no upheavals, not today or on your birthday.’
‘I love you, Mammy.’
‘Yes, I know you do, darling. I know you do.’
‘If Daddy would only believe that, everything would be all right.’
‘Don’t worry now, don’t worry, everything will be all right. I promise you. Just remember this: I love you too, very, very much.’
When her daughter put her arms around her neck and hugged her tightly it was almost too much, and to prevent the tears from flowing, she said, ‘Your dress will be all crushed under your coat.’
‘Doesn’t matter, Mammy; it’ll soon be crushed anyway, when we start playing games.’
After leaving her daughter in the brightly lit and chatter-filled house she did not immediately drive away. ‘Don’t fight with Daddy tonight or tomorrow.’ And she had promised not to. Yet she was having to subdue the urge to dash back there and scream at him. She had asked herself, time and again lately, what was coming over her. She knew her character had altered completely over the last few years. She could admit it but couldn’t control the change. More and more she was acting like a bitch; more than once she had to restrain the urge to hit out at him, punch him in his good-looking, smarmy face, especially when she would come upon him in the drawing room sitting holding her great-gran’s hand, stroking it gently as if it were a cat, and that old woman sitting there and, like a cat, lapping it up.
Thankfully, Charlie would be home today. Later on they might have a few minutes together and he would hold her and she would become herself again. And she would say, ‘How long are you here for this time?’ praying it would be weeks instead of days…
Victoria met her in the hall, saying, ‘You look frozen. Come in the kitchen; I’ve just mashed a pot of tea.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Oh, he went out shortly after you did, within minutes. He took a briefcase with him, as if he were going back to the works. May’s just phoned. They can’t come over to dinner tomorrow; they’ve got unexpected company. She wants you to slip across when you can.’
‘But the turkey! We’ll never get through that.’
‘Oh yes, we will. We’ll have hash for days.’ Victoria smiled at her, then said, ‘What was all that about upstairs?’
‘Love.’
‘What d’you mean, love?’
‘He was at her, trying to make her say that she loved him better than she did me. I was outside the door, listening. I didn’t know he was home and I was just on the point of going into her room when I heard him.’
‘Dear God!’ Victoria shook her head. ‘What’ll he be at next?’
‘The question is, Gran, what has he been at already? That’s what worries me every minute. But what can you do? What can you say? There’s no proof, and…and she’s fond of him and she wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or get him into trouble. But there’s been a change in her of late. She’s refused to go to the baths since she had that cold, but I think she was clever enough to make that an excuse. Dear God in heaven!’ She put her hand to her brow. ‘What a state of affairs.’
‘Look, lass, it’s Christmas. There’s nothing you can do about it at the moment. Go on, get yourself over to May’s and meet her company, whoever they are. She sounded very excited.’
‘Well, she expects Charlie home today.’
‘Yes, she does, but she said “company”, and Charlie isn’t company, well, not that kind. She would have just said Charlie’s home.’
‘Will you take her tea up?’ Peggy jerked her head in the direction of the ceiling, and Victoria said on a laugh, ‘Yes, yes, I’ll take her tea up. And if she gives me any of her pernickety, finicky quips I’ll throw it over her. I’ve wanted to do it many a time.’
They laughed together now, but it was a gentle laugh without mirth.
Peggy heard the laughter coming from next door before she left the woodland, and it further burst on her as she opened the kitchen door.
May was at the table piling sandwiches on an already full plate, Frank was cutting into a large fruit loaf, and they both turned and hailed her brightly, saying, ‘Hello, there!’
‘What’s all the noise?’
‘You may well ask. It sounds like a taproom, doesn’t it? It’s the band, the quartet.’
Frank laughed. ‘You said it; the quartet, four plus Charlie, but it sounds like a football match, doesn’t it? Go on in.’
�
�Oh no! I…’
‘Don’t be silly! Oh, and by the way, I’m sorry we can’t make it tomorrow. They’re staying over the weekend.’
‘All of them?’
‘Yes, all of them. There’ll be some shakedowns to make up, but they’re used to sleeping in cramped quarters.’
‘They are not going home for Christmas?’
‘Well, one lives in Scotland, one lives in Ireland, one lives in London. Anyway’—her voice dropped—‘it’s a breaking-up party.’
‘They’re breaking up?’
‘Oh, my dear, he’ll tell you all about it later. Go on in.’
Reluctantly she went out of the kitchen, across the small hall and towards the sitting room. The door was open and she stood just outside the aperture taking in the five men. Charlie had his back to her. He was sitting on a pouffe to the side of the fire. And when two of the men stopped laughing and looked over his head, he turned and sprang up and hurried towards her, saying, ‘Hello, there,’ and reached out to take her hand.
‘Hello, Charlie.’
‘I…I was coming across but I was held up by this lot.’ He thumbed towards the men behind him, then said, ‘Come on in and meet the gang.’
He led her into the room and, looking at the four musicians, he said, ‘This is Peggy, my sparring partner ever since we both crawled on the lawn together. And this’—he spread an arm out—‘is the amateur group I’ve been supporting over the past years.’
There was a great hoot of laughter and chipping and protests. The men were standing now and Charlie, pointing to a small middle-aged man, said, ‘This is Joe, violin and much more.’ Joe shook her hand and smiled.
‘And this is Ron, viola, but he really should have been playing the cornet, he spends more time on it.’
‘How d’you do, Peggy?’ The tall man with a long face bent in the grand manner as he took her hand.
The House of Women Page 17
