A Woman's Place

by Maggie Ford

  Adding her name while Eveline continued to stare, the old lady came to touch her arm again as she passed, her voice low. ‘I was like you once.’

  That was all. She toddled away, leaving Eveline staring after her wondering what she must have gone through in her day to be branded a fallen woman. Perhaps the shame had been even worse in Queen Victoria’s time. Now old, she still remembered.

  Eveline felt her throat constrict, partly for the woman’s unknown life and partly for her own unknown future. She should have drawn strength from her words. Instead she was in danger of breaking down as she helped to lift the packing case ready to take away with them. With her and Agatha at one end, Connie at the other, it wasn’t easy lugging the case back to where they’d got it from, hampered as they were by long skirts, the wind playing with their hats and their suffragette sashes of green, purple and white. Once Connie glanced at her and, seeing the look on her face, tilted her head enquiringly. Eveline forced a smile.

  ‘The cold. It’s making my eyes water.’

  She hadn’t fooled Connie, who knew heartache only too well. Despite being happily married now, her parents’ callous treatment of her still hurt and, aware of the cause of Eveline’s dejection, she looked away. Eveline was grateful yet she felt angry at herself. All this time and the pain of Larry’s rejection hadn’t diminished; in fact it seemed to be getting worse as the time to the birth grew shorter. She’d fought not to think of the consequences her condition held for her, but the old woman’s words had brought it all back.

  Back in Gran’s flat she avoided Gran’s eyes, knowing how perceptive they were, and, not stopping to take off her outdoor clothes, announced that she needed to change her library books before they closed. She was off again before Gran could say a word to her. At least she would have a fresh book to bury her face in so as to continue to avoid any scrutiny of Gran’s. With luck it would also help to take her mind off the old lady’s words still revolving around in her head which had provoked this deep shame at being left in her state without a man to give her unborn child his name.

  As she hurried off towards the library in Cambridge Heath Road, her heart filled again and again with hatred for Larry until it felt as if it were ready to burst. She no longer felt love for him now, only bitterness that had grown to seep into every part of her, an overwhelming wish to see him suffer all the torments she could think of – fall desperately in love and be rejected as he’d rejected her, have a horrible illness, or an accident, even die.

  In the library she ignored novels of love and romance: too close to home. Instead she chose the non-fiction section, looking to something to tax her brain enough to sweep away this awful desolation if only for a while.

  A cheery ‘’Ello there!’ made her swing round to see a young man coming towards her. He was so nicely dressed that for a moment she didn’t recognise him. The broad, good-looking features, free of acne, were split almost across by a grin at her obvious confusion.

  ‘Bert?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s me. Didn’t know who I was, did yer?’

  ‘No, not at first.’

  ‘Well, you see before you a new man. Not at the butcher’s any more.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She lowered the book she held, her own troubles laid aside for the present.

  ‘Don’t be.’ He lifted a careless hand. ‘Fed up bein’ a bloomin’ runabout. Got meself a decent job now, behind the counter down at Goodham’s Dairies. Nice job, more money, clean overalls, a bit of respect. Mr Goodham says I’m doing well and could be in fer a rise if I keep it up. Calls me Albert, wants me ter speak better too, me being be’ind a counter, so I’m trying hard to watch me aitches an’ all that. But I don’t go ’ome spouting me fancy talk. Me mother’d ’ave a fit, thinking I’ve gone all nancyfied.’

  He gave a chuckle. ‘So what’re you doing ’ere in this section of the library? Or should I say here ’cos you speak quite nice too.’

  Eveline made an effort to smile. ‘I was just looking for something just to take my mind off …’

  Her smile faded as she realised what she was about to say. She felt her face crease as she fought to control the emotions it was raising afresh. She saw Bert’s grin fall away, replaced by an anxious frown.

  Slowly and very gently he asked, ‘Is something wrong?’

  It was a simple question but said with such concern that she was in danger of bursting into tears. It felt as if she had known him all her life. But in reality he was only a casual acquaintance and she didn’t want to start breaking down in front of him. She turned away quickly and fumbled in an effort to replace the book in the space it had left. It no longer seemed to fit the gap and in her desperate fumbling she lost her grip and it fell, landing with the flimsy pages spread out and creased.

  ‘Oh!’ She made to bend down, awkward in her tight skirt.

  ‘No, let me!’ Bending at the same instant as she, his head caught the wide brim of her hat, tilting it. He shot upright.

  ‘Oh blast! I’m so sorry.’

  Frantically adjusting it, she too straightened up to find herself gazing into his deep brown eyes not six inches from hers, aware of the confusion in them. It was as though a switch had been pulled somewhere inside her head. Without any warning she burst into tears, the pent-up misery held back for so long gushing out.

  ‘I – I’m not myself,’ she gulped. ‘I – I don’t know what’s got into me.’

  She felt a pair of steadying hands take hold of her arms. ‘Something what’s upset yer badly, that’s what’s got inter you.’

  He seemed to come to a decision. ‘Look, it probably ain’t none of my business, but you look fair broken up. Let me buy yer a cuppa tea – it might make yer feel better. There’s a workman’s caff across the road what make a part decent cuppa.’

  She didn’t really care except to get out of this place, where people were starting to frown at the sound of weeping disturbing the library’s tranquillity. All she could do was make a feeble nod of assent.

  With his arm round her shoulders he led her away from the fallen book, her head bowed so that the librarian wouldn’t see her tear-dampened face beneath its large, all-concealing hat.

  It was dark outside now. She let herself be guided between the traffic moving along the Cambridge Heath Road on its way home from work or to a Saturday evening out. Though badly lit and three-quarters empty, the cafe was nevertheless brighter and warmer than the darkness outside with its wintry wind. Albert found a table at the far end where in the dingy light few customers would be able to make out her distress.

  Leaving her a moment to go to the counter, he came back with two thick brown mugs of steaming sweet tea. ‘Get that down yer, and when you feel better, I’ll take you ’ome.’

  He hadn’t asked what the matter was. He merely sat drinking his own tea and gazing about the cafe. She took a gulp of the hot liquid, which instantly scalded her throat and made her give a small choking cough. Albert looked back to her. ‘You orright?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ she responded tremulously. She hadn’t intended for it to come out like that.

  ‘… I’m …’ she began, trying futilely to keep her voice steady but it wasn’t working and the state she was in she knew she was going to tell him why. The words tore themselves from her. ‘I’m in terrible trouble, and I don’t know what to do.’

  Moments later she was pouring her heart out to him, about Larry, her belief they would one day be married, the devastation of finding herself deserted when he’d found out what condition she was in, the things he’d said without any feeling except for his own predicament, that when he married it would be to someone of his own class, the way he put it making her feel lower than the women of the streets touting for business.

  ‘We’re not poor,’ she sniffled. ‘My father’s a tradesman. He spoke as if tradesmen were the dregs of society. I wasn’t interested in his money. I was in love with him. I thought he was with me. But all he wanted …’

  She broke off as her eyes bega
n to fill again. With an effort she drew in a determined breath to control her emotions but kept her head lowered so as not to have to look at him directly.

  ‘All he’d wanted was to use me for his own pleasure. I had no idea that was how he saw me and I’m so ashamed. I know now he was going with another girl or even perhaps courting. And now I’m left in such trouble and I feel so ashamed. I’ve been a fool. I can never hold my head up again. With no father to give a child his name I dread to think what’s going to happen to me, trying to bring it up all alone. And I just don’t know what to do.’

  It had all come out in one long desperate gabble and now she let her voice die away.

  Albert had said nothing. She looked up to see him gazing across the cafe as if he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. Perhaps he was feeling embarrassed. She’d made a fool of herself. How could she have let herself say all this to a man she’d only met casually? Her thoughts collapsed into turmoil; she wanted to leap up from the table, thank him for the tea and his time and walk off with as much dignity she could muster. She would never want to see him again.

  He was frowning, maybe thinking she was trying to appeal to his good nature for a handout – that type of girl! Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her, she pushed her tea away and was about to get to her feet, intending to apologise for taking up his time, when he brought his gaze back to her.

  ‘So, what are yer goin’ ter do? What about yer family?’

  ‘Them!’ she burst out fiercely, angry with herself for having opened her heart to him. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. I do know I shall face up to whatever happens. My family might not want to know me but I’ve got a wonderful grandmother who’ll stand by me.’

  ‘Grandmothers don’t live for ever,’ he said softly. It sounded to her utterly insensitive. He was staring down into the cooling liquid in his mug. ‘Some day yer could be left ter bring it up all on yer own. But an ’usband, God willin’, can look after a wife an’ family all ’er life.’

  Eveline let out a contemptuous hiss. ‘What husband? No man’s going to want an unmarried mother for a wife.’

  Albert hadn’t looked up. ‘There’s one what might care to.’

  ‘Who?’ she challenged, shooting the word at him.

  ‘Me,’ he said quietly.

  Stunned, unable to take in what he’d just said, Eveline stared at the crown of the bowed head. His bowler hat lay on the table beside him and she found herself regarding the wavy, mousy brown hair, darkened a little by Brilliantine in an attempt to straighten its waves. It had a neat centre parting and there was a small pimple on the side of his neck below the right ear. It seemed to absorb all her attention the way people in shock often take in things that bear no relationship to what is happening.

  Finding her voice she burst out angrily, ‘Please don’t make a joke of it.’

  He looked up. His eyes looked deadly serious, almost sad. ‘I’m not making a joke of anything.’

  Confusion swept over Eveline. ‘But you can’t go round saying things like that to someone you hardly know. You can’t do that!’

  ‘What’ll yer do otherwise?’

  ‘I don’t know. But if you’re talking about you marrying me – if that’s what you’re saying …’ Even now she wasn’t sure of what she’d heard. She was beginning to feel a fool. ‘If that’s what you’re saying, of course I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because … because I don’t love you.’ Her voice had risen and the few customers were beginning to turn round. Quickly she lowered her tone. ‘I don’t say I don’t like you, but I don’t love you.’

  ‘Does that matter?’ he asked, his voice shaky as if holding back some sort of emotion.

  There came a feeling of panic and words poured from her. ‘It matters a lot. Bert … Albert, if what you’re proposing is marriage. If that’s so, I do appreciate it. You’re a very kind and generous-hearted person and one day you’ll make someone a wonderful husband, but you don’t love me and you can’t expect someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love … I mean who likes you a lot for what you are but shouldn’t be taking advantage of you because she doesn’t love you enough, to accept your offer. I’m very grateful to you and it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me, but—’

  ‘What makes yer think I don’t love yer?’ he interrupted.

  ‘But you can’t,’ she flustered. ‘It’s silly, coming out of the blue like that.’

  ‘It’s common sense. And I’ve ’ad feelings towards yer for a long time.’

  ‘But you can have your pick of any girl. Why would you want to mess it up for someone who doesn’t have feelings for you? It’s just not right.’

  Even as she spoke, it was becoming more real yet utterly irrational. Here she was being presented with a chance for her child to have a name, yet it still had to be an ill sort of joke. But what if it wasn’t? What if he meant it?

  He’d been watching the dilemma and indecision in her eyes. Now he stopped her. ‘I’m the only rope you can cling to, and I do ’ave feelings for you. You caught me eye a long time ago. I’d look for you coming into the library. I wanted to ask you out but you went off with that posh geezer. I couldn’t match up to ’im. But I always hoped you’d turn yer eye towards me. Now I can help.’ He was trying hard to improve his speech but failing. ‘It’s what I would’ve done if we’d been stepping out together. That’s all it is.’

  ‘But I’m going to have someone else’s …’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish, but he gave a small quirky smile.

  ‘I can’t see no problems. All I’m asking is would you ’ave me? You could get to love me in time. Yer said yer liked me?’

  ‘I do,’ she managed to mumble.

  He’d begun to grin, seeming to take that as a positive answer. ‘I ain’t got much to offer you right now but I ain’t that bad-looking and I ’ave got prospects. I’m earning a bit more money now and I’m studying ’ard to be a surveyor. One day I’ll pass the exams and be one, have a bit of security to offer you. What d’yer say?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said weakly, almost too frightened to acknowledge that her entire insides were bubbling with immeasurable relief, overwhelming, boundless relief, one minute feeling this had to be an unkind dream and the next minute wanting only to believe him and say yes.

  Closing her eyes to the unreal feel of it all, she heard herself whisper that very word and saw him nod. He reached out and took her hand gently in his, and she heard him say that they should name a day not too far off, and by the time her baby was born she’d be a respectable married woman,

  ‘I’ll start looking for a letting for us straight away. Nothing too expensive for the time being but in time we’ll find somewhere nicer for us.’

  It sounded more like a business deal, leaving her to wonder how this had all come about so suddenly and that she might have done the wrong thing after all. But then he said ever so gently, ‘I’ll try ter be the kind of ’usband you ’oped you’d get in life.’ And suddenly she knew this was what must have been mapped out for her and she must accept it gratefully.

  They left the cafe under the gaze of curious onlookers and walked home along the Bethnal Green Road, side by side, not holding hands, not with his arm about her. This wasn’t a courtship, or a love match; this would be a marriage of convenience, so to speak, and although gratitude was all but smothering her, Eveline wondered as they walked on home just what she had let herself in for, preparing to marry a man she didn’t love. Liked, but didn’t love. It still felt indescribably unreal.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘You’ll be ’aving this in the next couple of days,’ Victoria announced. Still a bit shaky and panicky from the slow, dull ache that had come on this morning around her back and her waist, Eveline gazed up from the armchair at her gran.

  Not knowing what to do, on her own with Albert at work, she’d gone to her neighbour across the way, the woman immediately volunteering to go and get
her grandmother. By the time she’d come back with Gran, the ache had subsided, leaving her feeling guilty at having brought her out.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she explained as Gran handed her a strong cup of tea with lots of sugar in it. ‘I thought I was starting. I was frightened. I didn’t mean to call you out for nothing.’

  ‘You did the right thing, love,’ Gran said calmly. ‘It ain’t nice being on your own when it’s your first as well. You ain’t started but you could in a couple of days – p’raps even tomorrow.’

  The words raised fresh alarm, and her gran eyed her closely. ‘I think it might be best for me to stay ’ere for the while. Your Bert won’t know what to do if anything happens. Men don’t. I’ll just go and pick up a few things, me nightclothes and stuff, and be back in a jiff.’ She smiled encouragingly as Eveline’s face registered fresh terror. ‘Your neighbour, what’s ’er name?’

  ‘Mrs Martin.’

  ‘Right, what I’ll do, I’ll ask her to stay with you till I come back. I’ll call in and tell ’er. Now drink your tea.’

  Gran pressed the cup back into her hands; Eveline watched her go then gazed around her room, trying to forget that she was alone once more.

  A Wilmott Street basement, it comprised this room, one bedroom and a kitchen and tiny lavatory. The soot-blackened brickwork of the five-storey blocks opposite reflected no light at all and prevented sunlight from ever reaching her windows. It was a bit brighter now the landlords had replaced the old brown wallpaper with something lighter, but even with flowery pink curtains it was a losing battle with the windows below street level.

  It didn’t worry Bert, or Albert as she preferred to call him. His home had been a ground-floor letting with the opposite buildings also blocking out much of the sunlight and these winter and early spring months of their marriage had meant the curtains were drawn by the time he got home from work in the evening. It was now May and hardly any brighter; she thought of the sun pouring into her parents’ south-facing flat over the shop with its views across the railway. Gran’s second-floor flat, being in an end block, got just as much light. It made the lack of it here all the more noticeable. Even if the wedding had been a happier occasion this place would have spoiled it.