by Anne Bennett
‘Why would he mind? Beattie, you should see the place. Compared to where we used to live it’s a mansion, even when you compare it to this place. It’s not as if we’d be falling over each other.’
It was after Beattie had gone that Linda realized Charles had never indicated which room Jenny would have. He’d shown her hers and his own. She’d pulled a face at that and said she’d never imagined sleeping in another bed from her husband, never mind another room. Charles had laughed at her and said that was how it was. His parents had always had separate rooms.
But Linda didn’t laugh. She wondered how they were going to have sex together if they slept in separate rooms. Did you have to make an appointment? Maybe discuss it over dinner? She thought the whole thing stupid.
But there was something else worrying her, and that was about sex too. Once you were engaged, you could allow your man to be more amorous; you didn’t have to put the brakes on quite so soon. In fact, Linda had looked forward to more intimacy, hoping it would drive from her mind the vision of her lying like a wanton in the arms of her German lover.
Charles, however, didn’t seem to see it like that. He was a kind and considerate man, and very generous, and all her family thought her a lucky girl. But he never seemed to want to go further than tame kisses on the cheek or lips, or holding hands. He’d hold her tight and tell her she was a lovely girl, but it was how Linda imagined a big brother might be. Once, when she’d forced his lips open with her tongue, he’d jumped away from her as if he’d been shot. She’d been too embarrassed to ask him what was wrong, and he never volunteered the information. Another time she had opened her coat and, taking his hands, had placed them on her body. He’d just removed them with an embarrassed laugh and advised her to do her coat up as the summer nights could suddenly turn very chilly.
His reaction made Linda’s blood run cold and she wondered if he found sex distasteful, and whether, if he did, it mattered to her. In her experience many women put up with their husband’s often excessive demands for years. Linda told herself not to be daft, she was going to live in luxury, she and Jenny. It was just payment for what Jenny had done for her, years before.
As long as Charles got over his distaste enough to give her a child, Linda thought she’d cope. She could probably do without sex, but she longed for children. These would be the children of peace who’d have the chance to grow up strong and healthy and not be crushed to death by a bomb blast.
Funny they’d never talked about it, nor where Jenny’s bedroom was going to be, Linda thought, and she decided to remedy that the next time she met Charles. She’d like Jenny’s room as close to hers as possible. Charles would probably know that. It would help Jenny too, for she knew the talk of the wedding depressed her; she might cheer up on learning where her room would be in Linda’s house. She could begin to plan how she’d like it decorated. Linda was sure Charles wouldn’t mind spending a bit of money on it. It would be Jenny’s own, for as long as she wanted it. Eventually, with Linda’s help, she’d get over Bob’s death and begin to live again, and with these thoughts in her head, she returned to Jenny with a smile on her face.
Two days later, Jenny noticed some letters lying on the mat. She picked them up and glanced idly through them. Now that the condolence cards had stopped arriving, the bulk of the post was usually for the Masters household. And so it was that morning, except for one letter addressed to Linda in a hand she didn’t recognize and with a German stamp on it.
She stood with it in her hand wondering who it could possibly be from. A soldier she’d sung to perhaps, but she knew most of the soldiers were back now, except those on peace-keeping duties. It was mainly relief agencies in Germany at the moment, dispersing aid to the destitute, and Jenny was sure Linda knew none of them. Of course she might have done, she didn’t know her every move. She took the letter up to their room and placed it on Linda’s bed. She didn’t want the Masters to be asking questions about it. She also resolved to think no more about it herself. Linda, she was sure, would clear up the mystery as soon as she came home from work.
Jenny wasn’t even surprised to see Peter waiting for her by the tram stop outside the Dunlops’ that evening. She’d come out of work with Peggy, who only had a week to go before she had to leave, as it was less than two months before her new baby was due. Peggy was more grateful than Jenny to have the comfort of a car to bring her to the door rather than cope with the rattling, uncomfortable trams and then struggle up the road afterwards. She knew though, it wasn’t for her benefit that Peter Sanders came, and couldn’t understand how Jenny didn’t see that he was crazy about her. But then it was early days, and she wasn’t really over Bob’s death yet.
Maureen was well aware of it. ‘It’s been like that from the start,’ she said. ‘Linda told me. But Jenny … I think she sees him as a friend and that’s all. She might be a one-man girl, you know. I couldn’t have looked at another when my Michael was killed.’
‘Och, Mammy, don’t be saying that,’ Peggy was shocked. ‘Sure, she has her life in front of her.’
‘Aye, but we are what we are,’ Maureen replied. ‘Still, if that Dr Sanders has patience, in the end he might get somewhere.’
And Peter had patience, as well as terrific compassion for Jenny. He knew how much she’d loved Bob and he himself doubted she’d ever love so deeply again. He’d settle for a small slice of her heart, but it was far too early to tell her so and he had no idea of her feelings for him.
Jenny, though unaware of how he felt, had come to depend on him somewhat in the weeks since Bob’s death. She didn’t analyze her feelings any further than that. She felt, at any rate, she had little to give anyone. There was a numbness in her that frightened her a bit and she did wonder sometimes if she’d ever feel true emotion again.
She slipped into the front seat of the car that evening while Peggy settled herself happily in the back with a grateful sigh. Jenny said, ‘Thanks, Peter. It’s great of you giving us a lift most evenings, especially for Peggy.’
‘Are you finding life hard going?’ Peter asked, glancing in the back.
‘Sure the job’s fine, and aren’t I sitting down all day?’ Peggy said. ‘No, the heat gets to me a bit and then my wee imp Dermot is one body’s work. He was born with mischief built into him.’
‘I thought they all were,’ Peter said with a smile.
‘Him more than most,’ Peggy said emphatically. ‘I bless Mammy for coping with him all the day. But I tell you, if her hair hadn’t been grey before, he’d have turned it that way. Now the wee devil’s starting waking up at night and after him sleeping fine for two years. He says he’s lonely and doesn’t want to be by himself.’
‘You’ll have to kick Gerry out and make him take a turn.’
‘Huh,’ Peggy said. ‘I’d have less trouble waking up a corpse than rousing Gerry.’
Peter laughed and Peggy gave a grin, but Jenny’s face stayed fixed. She glanced across at Peter and saw that despite his laughter he was watching her closely.
In an attempt to change the subject Peter said, ‘How’s Linda? I bet she’s getting excited now.’ Almost at once, he realized that it probably wasn’t tactful to talk about Linda’s wedding, but it was too late, the words were out.
‘No, no she isn’t,’ Jenny said flatly. ‘Not really. Is she, Peggy?’
‘Not so you’d notice anyway,’ Peggy agreed.
‘I’d feel happier if she was getting excited,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s not natural.’
‘Oh, she’s probably nervous,’ Peggy answered. ‘Anyway,’ she went on as the car drew up outside her gate, ‘you’ll see, she’ll get better about it as the day grows nearer. Don’t worry. See you tomorrow, Jenny.’
‘Yes. Bye Peg,’ Jenny said.
As the car drew away Peter said, ‘What exactly are you worried about, Jenny?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jenny confessed. ‘But there’s something wrong somewhere.’
‘Do you like her husband-to-be?’
‘I don’t exactly dislike Charles Haversham,’ Jenny said. ‘It’s just a feeling, that’s all.’
‘Is it his age that’s bothering you?’ Peter suggested.
‘Not just that. Though that’s another factor against him, if you like.’
‘You don’t think Linda might be searching for a father figure?’ Peter said. ‘After all, she’s never really had one, has she? Her own father died when she was little more than a baby, she told me, and her stepfather didn’t make it past Dunkirk.’
‘No,’ Jenny said and she thought back to what Linda had told her about her stepfather when they’d been trapped in the tunnel together. That was not for any ears but her own and she couldn’t share it with Peter, but maybe he was right: that was possibly what Linda was searching for. If she was sure she’d found a man to love her and care for her in Charles Haversham she’d be happy, but she still wasn’t certain. ‘It’s more than that.’ She shrugged. ‘But it’s Linda’s choice.’
‘You’re right there. And Peggy’s right, too – you mustn’t worry so much.’
‘Is that your professional opinion?’ Jenny asked, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. ‘Have you any anti-worrying pills in your black bag?’
‘Not today,’ Peter said, returning her smile. ‘I’ll see what I can do for next week.’
There was silence for a minute or two and then Peter said, ‘Has she sent the invitations out yet for the reception?’
‘No,’ Jenny said. ‘There was a bit of an argument about where it was to be. Charles wanted it at the house, but Linda said Four Oaks was too far for people to travel to. I mean, not many people we know have cars. So Linda is having it at the Social Club on Tyburn Road. I should imagine Charles would have turned his nose up at that, at least to start with, but she dug her heels in. Time’s getting on. I said only the other day she should get cracking.’
Thinking of the invitations brought to mind the odd letter Linda had received that morning and she said, ‘She had a most peculiar thing through the post this morning though.’
‘What was that?’
‘A letter from Germany.’
‘Germany!’ Peter exclaimed. ‘Who from?’
Jenny shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She’d gone to work before the post came, but I’m intrigued. As far as I know, she knows nobody in Germany.’
Unbidden there came into Peter’s mind the sight of Linda clasped in the arms of the POW on the Phelps’s farm. He said nothing, but his face was troubled and as he drove down Jenny’s road, she said, ‘What is it? Do you know someone who could be writing to our Linda from Germany?’
‘No. How would I?’
‘I don’t know how,’ Jenny said. ‘But you know something. Come on, tell me. She’ll be home soon and I’ll find out anyway.’
‘That’s best,’ Peter said. ‘Let her tell you herself.’
‘Peter?’
He sighed. If he was right, then maybe it was better to prepare Jenny a little, give her time to get over the shock – for a shock it would be. He drew up outside her gate, turned off the engine and swung around to look at her. ‘Look, Jenny,’ he said. ‘I might have totally the wrong idea. The letter could be from someone entirely different, but I know Linda was friendly with a POW on the Phelps’s farm.’
Jenny’s face seemed to collapse as she repeated, ‘A POW? You mean a German?’
‘Yes, he was a German.’
‘And she was friendly with him? Friendly with one of the people who killed her family, my brother, my brother-in-law and fiancé? Peter, how could she?’
‘I don’t know,’ Peter said helplessly. ‘She’s young.’
‘That’s no excuse,’ Jenny snapped. ‘And, anyway, how friendly is friendly?’
Peter couldn’t tell her of the clinch he’d broken apart when Linda and Max appeared oblivious to everything and everybody else, nor of the passion he’d seen flowing between them even when they were not touching each other. But before he had a chance to frame a lie, Jenny broke in, ‘It doesn’t matter, Peter. They must have been friendly enough for him to write to her now.’
‘It might not be him,’ Peter protested.
But Jenny knew it was. Who else could it be, and how else would they know where she lived? Look at the letter Louis Bradshaw had sent – it went around the wrekin before it got to Linda. No, this man had her address because she’d given it to him.
After Bob’s death, she’d believed herself incapable of any sort of emotion ever again. But now anger coursed through her veins and a great heat filled her body. With the briefest of thanks to Peter, she left his car, ran up the path and into the house. She met no one and for that she was glad as she galloped up the stairs and retrieved the letter.
She had to decide what to do with it, and for that she had to know what was in it. She knew she was going to do something she’d never done before, and that was steam open the letter to see if Peter’s suspicions were right. But how to do it was the problem, for Francesca cooked the meal every evening. She said it was the least she could do for the workers in the house and it would be hard to find time alone before Linda came in from work. She slipped the letter into the zipped pocket of her handbag and went down to the kitchen to see if Francesca wanted a hand with anything, vowing to deal with the letter later.
Jenny had been in a funny mood all evening, Linda thought. She’d snapped at her a few times and Linda couldn’t understand what was the matter with her. Francesca asked Linda if they’d had a row, but they hadn’t and Linda couldn’t think of anything she’d said or done to upset her. She supposed Jenny was tormented by the wedding talk, which made her more determined than ever to tackle Charles about where Jenny’s room was to be. So when he collected her later that night, she suggested they drive across to the house.
Bessie and Amy were flustered by their unexpected arrival. ‘Don’t worry,’ Charles said.
‘But if you’d let me know I could have made dinner,’ Bessie complained.
‘We’ve eaten,’ Charles assured her, and then to smooth her ruffled feathers he added, ‘A pot of tea would be nice, though.’
As the slightly mollified woman left the room, Charles said to Linda, ‘So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?’
Being Linda she plunged straight in. ‘I’d like to get the question of Jenny’s room sorted out,’ she said. ‘Where it is to be, I mean. I feel if she could get started planning her room, it might make her feel better about the wedding. I’d like it fairly near to mine, especially as yours is at the other end of the corridor.’
Charles didn’t speak, and Linda didn’t notice the expression on his face. ‘But then,’ she went on, ‘when we eventually have children, I’d want their room right next to mine, I suppose.’ She laid her hand on Charles’s arm and said, ‘I know this is strange to you, you probably were brought up by nursemaids, but I don’t want that. I want to bring my children up myself.’
‘Linda,’ Charles said, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Bessie tapping on the door and bringing in a tray on which stood a pot of tea, two cups and a plate of homemade biscuits.
‘Thank you, Bessie,’ Charles said, and he waited till the woman had left and closed the door before he leaned forward and took Linda’s hand in his own.
‘Linda,’ he said again. ‘Jenny will not be living with us.’
Linda snatched her hands away. ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about?’
‘I’m marrying you, my dear, not Jenny.’
‘Jenny’s my friend – my dear, dear friend,’ Linda cried. ‘I owe my life to her.’
‘I know,’ Charles said. ‘But that is in the past. Now we need to go forward.’
‘Charles, what’s the matter with you? This is a huge house. What’s one bedroom?’
‘The bedroom is not in question, my dear.’
‘But you like Jenny,’ Linda cried desperately. ‘I know you do. Look how good you were to her after Bob died.’
‘C
alm yourself, my dear,’ Charles said patronizingly, patting her hand. He leaned forward and poured the tea into two cups and handed one to her. ‘Drink this.’
Linda took the cup; she was so shaken, the cup rattled in its saucer. She looked at Charles through narrowed lids. She couldn’t understand him. This was Charles – the charming, considerate and very generous man she’d agreed to marry. ‘Look, Charles, I can’t just leave her,’ Linda said, feeling sure she could make him see how impossible that was. ‘And what’s more, I don’t want to leave her! You know she has nowhere else to go.’ They’d been together for so long now, Linda knew she’d feel bereft without her. If Bob had lived, Linda would have been given a home with them. Also, Linda didn’t know how she could manage the household without Jenny’s advice and support.
‘Jenny wouldn’t fit in here,’ Charles said. ‘Surely you can see that?’
‘No, I don’t see that. I don’t see it at all,’ Linda said. ‘And if you think that about Jenny, how well do I fit in?’
Charles smiled. ‘You’re young, my dear,’ he said. ‘You’ll learn.’
‘Learn? I don’t bloody well want to learn!’ Linda cried angrily. ‘I think I’m all right as I am and so is Jenny, and I want her to live here when we’re married.’
‘And I do not.’
Linda was bemused. He was acting as he did when she said she wanted to continue working. He seem immovable. And he was immovable. He wanted none of Linda’s relations around while he was training her in his ways. He’d make sure she’d sever all ties with them eventually. He had far more suitable people he wanted her to cultivate, ones who could be an asset to him in his business. On her own, he felt sure Linda would succumb in the end to his demands, but with Jenny beside her, it would be more difficult, he knew.
‘What about children?’ Linda’s tone was hectoring now. ‘Let’s get it all out in the open at once. We’ve never discussed starting a family. Odd, don’t you think, when we’re getting married? Not,’ she spat out, ‘that you’ve ever come anywhere near doing anything the remotest bit intimate.’
