Our Lizzie

by Anna Jacobs

  While the tea was brewing, she went automatically to get his biscuits and found to her dismay that the tin was empty. She knew he was watching her and stood there, feeling quite stupid, not knowing how to appease him.

  “Have you bloody run out?”

  “I’m sorry, Sam! I meant to go down to Dearden’s this afternoon, but I was feeling poorly and I—I fell asleep.”

  He heaved himself to his feet. “You’ve got no right to fall asleep when your work isn’t finished. Your duty is to look after me! You’re just making excuses for your own laziness.”

  “It’s the baby, Sam. It makes me feel so tired.”

  “That’s a lame bloody excuse. Other women have babies without all this fuss.” He took a step towards her.

  Lizzie could see his hands clenching into fists and edged round the table away from him. When he laughed and followed her, his purpose obvious, she shrieked, “Sam, think of the baby! Sam!” In sheer terror, she started throwing things at him, trying to keep him away.

  But they just bounced off him and when he caught her, he slapped her so hard she was thrown violently sideways, hitting the wall and falling to the ground.

  She lost her own temper, then. “You rotten pig, you’ll hurt the baby! Stop it, Sam! Sam! Have you gone mad?” For it was murder she saw in his eyes.

  “Get down on your knees, then, and beg my forgiveness!”

  And, heaven help her, that was the final straw. She couldn’t do that, not even to save her baby. She tried to crawl away, but he caught her by the hair and dragged her back.

  For a moment they stared at one another, she defiantly now, letting her own anger show, he with rage throbbing in his face.

  “Beg!” he roared.

  “No. I’ve done nothing wrong,” shouted Lizzie, past caring, past anything but her own shame at how he had been treating her. “I’m leavin’ you,” she added, suddenly knowing it was the only thing she could do. “I’m not staying around to be hit for nothing, treated like dirt.”

  Shock made him pause for a moment. She could see it on his face.

  “You’ll never leave me!” he roared. “You’re mine, and if you ever even say that again, I’ll swing for you!”

  Anger overtook her again. Why should she put up with this? And all for a biscuit. “I’m definitely leaving.”

  He took her by surprise, swinging back his leg and deliberately kicking her, punctuating the blows from his booted foot with, “You’ll—never—bloody—leave—me! Never!”

  She screamed, rolling into a ball and trying to protect her belly.

  “You soddin’ ungrateful bitch!” He took her by the hair and dragged her half across the floor, then yelled as she managed to get free and tried to run for it. She didn’t even get to her feet and knew almost as soon as his foot made contact with her belly that she was in trouble, for it hurt so badly she couldn’t help screaming, a hoarse animal sound of agony.

  He stopped then and staggered across to lean against the wall, panting and muttering.

  Pain followed pain, and suddenly everything went black.

  * * *

  When Lizzie regained consciousness, she was lying alone in a corner of the kitchen. It was an effort to raise her head and even as she did so, pain stabbed through her belly. She moaned and as one spasm followed another, felt a wetness between her legs and sobbed aloud.

  “Sam! Help me!”

  But there was no answer and the house had an empty feeling to it.

  She knew then that he had left, for he often slammed out of the house after they’d had arguments. She also knew she had to get help, so began to crawl towards the front door, pulling herself upright by holding on to the handle and nearly blacking out again for a moment.

  How she got out of the house and along the street, she never knew, but somehow she did, making her way through the last of the sun’s mocking rays towards the Harpers’ house. Only when Emma opened the door did Lizzie surrender to her pain and collapse at her feet.

  * * *

  When she awoke, it was night and she was in hospital. A nurse in a big starched hat was sitting by the bed.

  “Ah, you’re awake, are you, Mrs. Thoxby?” She took hold of her patient’s wrist and felt her pulse, saying “Shh!” when Lizzie tried to speak. “You need to lie still, my dear.” She saw Lizzie clutch her stomach and said gently, “You’ve lost your baby, I’m afraid, but the doctors think no permanent damage has been done, at least. Though your face is a bit—bruised.” It was one of the worse cases of wife beating she’d ever seen and in her opinion, the man should be taken out and hung. But of course, no one wanted to know her opinion.

  Tears flowed down Lizzie’s face and she put up one hand to cover her eyes. Her weeping was no less painful for being silent.

  There was a stir at the foot of her bed and she looked up to see Sam standing there. Terror filled her and she grabbed the nurse’s hand and screamed, “Don’t let him near me! Keep him away! He killed my baby!”

  Someone came and ushered him away. Lizzie couldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. When the nurse raised her a little and told her to drink, she obeyed without question, tears dripping into the cup. Soon the world began to fade.

  If she had died there and then, Lizzie wouldn’t have protested. She had had enough. She had lost her baby. Just then, she couldn’t face anything else, not even thinking.

  Chapter Twenty

  Emma Harper came to the hospital the next morning, bringing a clean nightdress of her own, some sweet-smelling soap and a bunch of flowers. Lizzie looked at her through lack-lustre eyes. What did she care about flowers? Or fancy soap? Her baby was dead. But Emma was trying to be kind, so she roused herself a little to thank her and was surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

  It was a relief when her visitor left.

  A little later, the nurse came to tidy Lizzie up for the doctor’s rounds. “Now, is there anything you need, Mrs. Thoxby?”

  “Can you keep my husband away from me?” Lizzie asked. “I’m terrified of him.”

  Sympathy softened the nurse’s professional cheerfulness for a moment. “I’m afraid that’s not my decision.”

  “But look what he’s done to me!” They’d refused to bring her a mirror, but her face hurt and she could feel how swollen it was. “And he’s killed my b-baby. I never want to see him again. I’m leaving him.”

  The nurse came to hold her hand for a minute. “The almoner will be coming to talk to you this afternoon. You can tell her about it. She’s here to help people.”

  “No one can help me.” Lizzie clamped her mouth shut. This time she had to help herself by running away. Only she had that power. And she would do it, too. She couldn’t think now why she’d stayed with him for so long.

  The doctor was in a hurry. After a perfunctory examination, he said, “Yes, you’re out of danger now, Mrs. Thoxby. Time will soon heal you. But we’ll keep you in for a few days.” Then he walked on to the next bed without waiting for an answer.

  Lizzie lay back and listened to him going round the ward. She felt tired. So very tired. But although she dozed off, she couldn’t stay asleep because every time anyone came into the ward, she jerked upright for fear that it might be him.

  * * *

  The almoner was a brisk woman with posh clothes and a fancy accent. Lizzie took an instant dislike to her patronising smile and sugary voice.

  “I’m Miss Terrent, dear. The almoner. I try to help our poorer patients who have problems.” She turned to draw the curtains round the bed.

  Lizzie felt shame flood through her at being classed as a “poorer patient” and tears threatened for a moment as the almoner sat down in the hard visitor’s chair.

  Miss Terrent cleared her throat and said in a low voice, “I believe your husband has been beating you, Mrs. Thoxby.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he do this often?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like me to talk to him? The police could have a word, perhaps?” />
  Lizzie could just imagine what Sam would do to her if the police came round. “What I’d like,” she said in a low voice, “is never to see him again as long as I live. The only way I can be safe is by leaving him.”

  “My dear, he’s your husband. You took him for better or for worse, I’m afraid. When you’ve had time to recover, you’ll have to go home again. But I do think someone should have a word with him first.”

  It was at that moment Lizzie realised her only hope was to run away from the hospital, before anyone expected her to, and she would do it, too—just as soon as she could stand up without feeling dizzy. Perhaps Eva would take her in for a while till she could find herself a job and lodgings? No, Sam would go and look for her there. But she could stay with Eva for one night, perhaps, borrow some money for train fares and be away before he arrived. Yes, that would be the best thing to do. But she needed money to get to Eva’s. “Could you send word to my brother, do you think? He may be able to help.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’m glad to see that you’re being sensible.” Miss Terrent took down Percy’s particulars and went away.

  Lizzie scowled as she watched her go. “I’m not going back to Sam,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m not.”

  * * *

  When Percy came to visit her that evening, he was unable to hide his shock at the sight of her battered face.

  Lizzie clutched his hand and wept, though she had promised herself not to. “Can you lend me some money?” she said at last, when she had control of her voice again. “Please, Percy, I’ll pay you back.” She saw that he was looking puzzled and added, “I need to get away.”

  He stared at her in utter horror. “You’re going to leave him?”

  “Wouldn’t you? He killed my baby yesterday, Percy. If I go back, he’ll kill me one day as well.” Lizzie was utterly certain of that now, for Sam seemed to be getting moodier, whatever she did to keep him happy. And she hated his stealing, absolutely hated it.

  “But—where would you go?”

  “To Eva’s first, then as far away as I could get.”

  “Eeh, lass, that’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?”

  “If you don’t help me, I’ll kill myself. I swear I will. I’m not going back to him.”

  Her voice had risen and Percy suddenly found a nurse by his side.

  “Best if you go now, Mr. Kershaw. Your sister needs to rest.”

  Another nurse appeared. Lizzie fought off the hands that were trying to hold her and force some liquid down her throat, calling, “Promise me you’ll bring me some money tomorrow, Percy! Promise!”

  He nodded.

  Only then did she give in.

  * * *

  That night, Percy knocked on the door of his erstwhile friend, the brother-in-law he had come to despise.

  Sam opened it, swaying and smelling of beer.

  “I’ll come back when you’re sober.”

  “No. Come in, lad. Come in.”

  Percy hesitated, then followed him inside.

  In the kitchen, Sam gestured to a chair. “Have you seen her?”

  “Yes.”

  “They wouldn’t let me in.”

  “That’s hardly surprising.”

  Sam glared at him, then remembered that he needed to gain some sympathy. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was just the once. She got me so mad.”

  “It wasn’t just the once. You’ve hit her before. Several times. How could you have thumped her when she was carrying your child?”

  “I didn’t mean to make her lose the baby. You must believe that.” Sam’s face crumpled and he dashed away a tear. He’d wept for his son last night, wept bitterly. And he wished—oh, sod it, he didn’t know what he wished. “How—how is she?”

  “Bad. You’ve really hurt her. Have you seen her face? Seen what you’ve done?”

  Sam went to stand with his back to the room, staring down into the fire. “They won’t let me in,” he said in a hoarse voice. “She has to let me say I’m sorry. I’ll promise not to do it again.”

  “But do you really mean that?”

  Sam turned round. “Of course I bloody do! I want sons, like any other man. I was a fool to let my temper go, but it won’t happen again.”

  Percy hesitated. “Well, I’m going to see her tomorrow night. I’ll tell her you’re sorry. Maybe if I go with you the day after that? She should be feeling a bit better by then.”

  Sam came and shook his hand. “Thanks, lad. That means a lot to me.”

  When Percy had left, Sam went and got another bottle of beer out of the pantry. Sodding women. Weak as piss, they were, and stupid with it. Why didn’t she just do as he told her? Why was she so stupid? She’d made him do it. But, stupid or not, he needed her. And anyway, Lizzie was his, always had been. “I’ll have to watch meself, be a bit more careful from now on,” he admitted aloud. Then he snorted. “But so will she. I’m havin’ no more talk of her leavin’.”

  * * *

  Polly went to see Lizzie the next afternoon, having begged time off work to do so. She was horrified at the sight of her sister’s face, with one eye puffy and blue, her lip split. “Oh, Lizzie, you poor thing. He’s a brute!”

  She shed tears all over her sister, then realised that Lizzie was just lying there, staring dully into space, and pulled herself together. “What can I do for you, love? Do you need anything washed? I’ve brought you some fruit, but do you need anything else?”

  “I need some money. Quite a bit, actually.”

  Polly didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You’re going to leave him?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “Good. How much do you need?”

  “You’ll lend it me, Polly? Really?”

  “Of course I will. You can have all my savings. Every penny.”

  Then Lizzie wept in sheer relief, but quietly so as not to bring the nurse down on them. After a bit, she pulled herself together and tried to make plans in a low voice. If only her head didn’t hurt so much! If only she could think straight!

  Polly sat frowning. “When are they letting you out?”

  “They said not for a few days. But I thought—if I just walked out of the hospital one day, before anyone expected it, well, perhaps I could get away while he’s at work.” Because she wasn’t going back to him, she wasn’t. That thought was keeping her going.

  “Good idea. If you tell me when you want to leave, I’ll come and help you.”

  Lizzie managed a faint smile. “I’ll pay you back one day.”

  “You don’t need to. Just stay away from him.”

  “You’ve never liked him, have you?”

  Polly shook her head.

  “Why didn’t you say?”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference then.” Someone rang a bell, so Polly squeezed her hand and walked out with the other visitors, turning at the door for a final wave.

  “Looking a little brighter today, Mrs. Thoxby,” the sister said when she did her next round. “I’m sure it’ll all work itself out, you know. He’ll have realised how wrong he was, be ashamed of how he’s behaved.”

  Lizzie just shrugged. It was clear the people here didn’t understand and could do nothing to help her, so she’d have to help herself.

  * * *

  When Percy came to see her that evening, he brought no money with him and asked her to consider very seriously going back to Sam. “I’ve had a talk to him and I really think he’s sorry for what he did.”

  Lizzie stared at him in dismay. Percy was too soft. He’d believe anything, he would. Well, she wasn’t soft. Not any more. “The only thing he might be sorry for would be losing his child. He likes hitting me!”

  “No, no! He’s just got a hasty temper.”

  “He likes hurting people,” she insisted. “And I’m not going back to him.”

  “Couldn’t you just see him for a few minutes? Talk it over before you do anything you’ll regret.”

  “The minute he walks through that door, I
start screaming for help.”

  “But he’s promised me he’ll not hit you again.”

  “He could promise all he liked, but I wouldn’t believe him and anyway, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself when he gets in one of his black moods.” Percy tried to pat her hand and she pulled it away from him angrily. “I was counting on you!”

  “Nay, lass, he’s really upset. He had tears in his eyes when I was talking to him.”

  She stared at him stonily. “Did you bring any money for me? If not, you can just go away and leave me in peace.”

  He fumbled in his pocket for something to appease her. “I’ve got a few bob, but I’m a bit short this week.” His mother had gone into town and spent all the housekeeping money on some garish jewellery yesterday. “I’ll have to go to the savings bank tomorrow. And I really do think you should see Sam before you decide to do anything rash.”

  She gave a bitter laugh that turned into a sob. “That’s what the almoner said. I married him for better, for worse, she said. Only it’s all worse, Percy. There is no better with Sam.” Then she turned her head away and covered her eyes with one arm. When she looked up, the nurse was whispering in Percy’s ear and he nodded, raised one hand in farewell and left.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Miss Terrent appeared suddenly with Sam behind her, bowler hat in hand, looking all spruced up and respectable in his Sunday best.

  “I don’t want to see him!” Lizzie said at once. “If he comes one step nearer, I’ll scream.”

  Miss Terrent sighed, beginning to feel some sympathy for the poor man, who had been most contrite. “He’s your husband, my dear. Just let him stay for a few minutes and talk to you. He won’t move from the foot of the bed, will you, Mr. Thoxby? There, you see. You’ll be perfectly safe. And, I promise you, I’ll only be down at the end of the ward with sister.”

  Before Lizzie could protest, she had left them together, drawing the curtains round the bed to give them some privacy—as if everyone in the ward wasn’t listening as hard as they could.