by Anne Bennett
‘Linda!’
Linda placed her untouched cup of tea on the table and said, ‘Upset your sensitivities, have I? Well, I don’t give a monkey’s. Now tell me – what do you feel about children?’
Charles shook his head. ‘I don’t want children,’ he admitted.
The words were like hammer blows to Linda. ‘Not want children?’ she repeated, aghast. ‘What the bloody hell do you want to get married for then?’
Charles shook his head.
‘What’s in it for me, Charles?’ Linda cried. ‘Here I’d live in a house bigger than I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d have someone to keep it clean, someone to cook my meals and organize my days. But I can’t have my friend, who is closer than any sister, to live with me, though you know she has no other place to go. What’s next, Charles? You won’t want me seeing Gran, or Peggy, or Beattie, or even Francesca?’
She saw by Charles’s face that she’d hit the nail on the head. She went on, ‘And then to cap it all, this mansion of a place is not to be filled with children as I’d hoped. I need children, Charles. I can’t live a sham of a marriage without family or friends and without children.’
Charles, angered at last, snapped back, ‘What do you get, you ask? Always you, you, you! What do I get? You agreed to marry me because you needed a home and that’s all. There is nothing between us but convenience.’
‘Is that what you really think?’ Linda said in an appalled whisper. ‘What do you really feel for me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you desire me? Do you imagine yourself making love to me?’
‘Linda, please.’
‘Why does that shock you, Charles?’ Linda asked. ‘We are to be married. It’s what married people do.’
When Charles gave an involuntary shiver of distaste, Linda saw suddenly what sort of life she’d have if she married him. She’d be pampered and privileged and indulged, but inside she would shrivel up and die. ‘Charles,’ she said, ‘are you a nancy boy?’
‘No! I’m not!’
His denial was so emphatic, Linda didn’t doubt it, but she knew there was something wrong. The worst mistake she could make was to marry him. She took off the admired diamond cluster and said, ‘I think it’s best if we break it off now.’
Hurt, Charles cried out, ‘Break off our engagement just because I won’t have my house filled with your common friends and family? Don’t be so foolish, girl. Look at what you’re giving up!’
‘I’m not foolish,’ Linda said steadily. ‘So don’t say I am. Who are you anyway to call me names? Bloody hell, Charles, at least I’m normal. It’s you that has the problem. You want to make me something else, something I’m not.’
‘What if I am?’ Charles said with a sneer. ‘What have you got to hang on to? You were born in a slum of a house and dragged up on a disgusting council estate, and your friends that you lay such store by are only those like yourself – even your precious Jenny. I was going to show you a better life and I would have taught you and groomed you. In the end, you would have had no further use for those you now claim as friends. I would have bought you beautiful clothes and expensive jewellery. I would have wined and dined you at the best places with rich and influential people. In time you would have forgotten your humble beginnings.’
‘How dare you talk about my family and friends in that way,’ Linda exclaimed furiously. ‘They’re worth much more than yours any day of the week.’ She leapt to her feet, almost upsetting the small table and cried out, ‘You don’t want a wife. I’d be like a bird kept in a luxurious and gilded cage, but not allowed to fly. I’d have everything with you, except a life.’
‘Of course you’d have a life,’ Charles said. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’
‘What sort of life? Your sort? The sort you chose for me?’
Linda’s face was crimson with temper and her eyes too were sparkling. Charles looked at her with distaste. His mother would never have lost control in that way. He hoped Bessie and Amy couldn’t hear Linda’s high indignant voice, for she was making no attempt to lower it.
‘Not even a normal married life would be mine,’ Linda went on. ‘Because sex goes with a nomal married life, and anything to do with that bleeding well embarrasses the arse off you.’
‘Linda, please!’
‘Embarrassed by my language now, are you?’ Linda cried, too angry to care what she said. ‘Well, I ain’t speaking any lies. There’s something wrong with you, Charles. You say you’re not a nancy boy, but you’ve got a problem all right.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Charles hissed desperately.
‘Oh, I don’t need to keep my voice down,’ Linda said. ‘Because right now I am going back to my common friends and family, so you won’t have to listen any more.’ She looked at Charles and shook her head as she went on more quietly, ‘I know what I’m doing. I’d never be happy with you and you wouldn’t be happy with me. In time we’d make each other miserable.’
And Charles realized Linda was right. She resembled his mother in looks only. In temperament and personality they were completely different. He’d never heard his mother even raise her voice, never mind use coarse language. For him too, the bubble had burst.
Linda placed the engagement ring on the table and said, ‘I’m sorry, Charles. But really, it’s better this way.’
Charles didn’t speak. He sat with his head in his hands, for he saw a lonely, frustrated life in front of him. But Linda had no time to waste pity on him. She wrenched open the door and surprised the figure of Amy Sallenger, who’d been listening at it intently. They spoke not a word to each other as Linda retrieved her coat from the cloakroom and went out the front door. She had no idea how to get home, but she’d find out; she wasn’t helpless. As she walked out into the summer’s night the tears coursed down her cheeks.
At the same time as Linda was trying to find her way back home, Jenny was steaming open Linda’s letter, hoping no one thought it a good time to make a cup of tea that evening while she was in there bending over the kettle. She scalded her hand and found steaming envelopes open wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined. But as last, there it was.
My darling, darling Linda,
Sarah Phelps gave me your address. She did not want to do this, but I tell her you will like to know what happens to me now. It is bad here – worse even than I thought. My farm is destroyed. There is nothing for me here. I will leave as soon as I am allowed. I know we may never meet again, but I will write to you until the day you tell me you are married, then I will stop. But still you must know you have my love now and always, darling Linda.
Max. xx
How dare a German write to Linda in such a way, Jenny thought savagely. What right had he? She was gratified to know that Linda at least hadn’t given him her address, he’d got that from Sarah Phelps. Therefore, she thought, Linda hadn’t given him leave to write to her and she’d never expect to get a letter from him.
Yet from the tone of the letter, she knew their relationship had gone beyond mere friendship, and anger and resentment against Linda fizzed sourly inside her. Linda had no self-respect, she decided. No consideration for anyone but herself. Fine gratitude she shows for all I did for her, Jenny thought. Once she’d told Jan she didn’t want gratitude, but now she expected a measure of it. She decided she was going to save Linda from herself, for she didn’t know how she’d react if she saw this letter. So she’d burn it and say nothing to Linda at all. No one but Peter knew it had come and he’d say nothing if she asked him not to.
Linda walked all the way to Sutton town centre where she eventually found a bus to take her along to the Pype Hayes Estate. From there she walked to Grange Road. When she arrived home, footsore, weary and dispirited, even Jenny couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, though she still felt anger against her, and it was hard for her to act naturally. She was brusque and rather remote at first, and Linda, expecting sympathy, was both hurt and mystified.
They went into the kitchen and Francesca left her
husband snoozing behind his paper and came in too, to see what had happened. Linda was glad of her company because she didn’t know what was up with Jenny. Linda told them that her relationship with Charles was over; the engagement at an end. She didn’t think she was ready for marriage and not at all sure she’d be happy in the big house managing servants and everything. But Jenny knew that wasn’t all. Linda was watching Jenny and trying to decide if she’d recovered from her ill-humour. She hoped she’d tell her what it was all about eventually. Anyway, she didn’t think it would help for her to say that Jenny didn’t feature in their married life together. Eventually, she said, ‘The end came really when he said he didn’t want a family.’
‘Not ever?’
‘Maybe he thinks you’re too young,’ Francesca said.
‘I think’, said Linda wearily, ‘there’s more to it than that.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Well, he doesn’t … he’s never …’ Linda didn’t know how to explain, not in front of Francesca anyway.
‘He hasn’t tried anything on?’ Jenny said.
‘Never,’ Linda said. ‘He’ll hold hands and even give me a hug, but his kisses are on the cheeks or the lips, but nothing else, you know?’
Jenny and Francesca knew exactly what Linda was trying to say and Jenny asked, ‘Is he queer?’
‘I asked him that,’ Linda said. ‘He said he wasn’t.’
‘He’d hardly admit it. It’s against the law,’ Francesca said.
‘No, really,’ Linda said. ‘I think it’s something else. I think he wanted to marry me because I remind him of his mother. He’s shown me pictures of her when she was young and we do look incredibly alike. He talks about her all the time and he even wanted me to wear her clothes. Oh, I know he gave me an old ball gown to make into a dress for the wedding and I was grateful, but this was something else. Her room is exactly as she left it and the only ones allowed in are Charles and the snooty housekeeper, Amy Sallenger. She was the old lady’s companion and she goes in once a week to dust it. But Charles took me in once, and you’d swear the old lady had just stepped out for a minute. Her wardrobes are bursting with ball gowns, day gowns, capes and wraps and lots of shoes and boxes and boxes of hats. Charles wanted me to dress up in them and was annoyed with me when I wouldn’t.’
‘This man is perverted,’ Francesca said. ‘He has a mother fixation. You are better off without him.’
Jenny agreed. ‘But,’ she cautioned, ‘don’t spread this story around. Just tell people you weren’t suited, or something – you were too young or the age gap was too great.’
‘I won’t,’ Linda said. ‘In his way he was kind to me and I can’t help feeling sorry for him.’
‘Nor me,’ said Jenny. But she was more than ever glad that she hadn’t given her the letter from Max. It was better that she forgot him altogether, for with her marriage plans scuppered, who knew what plan of action she might have taken? But she realized Linda was more upset than she was letting them see and, she reasoned, she knew nothing about the letter. However far the friendship had gone, she’d not known the man was going to write to her, so she swallowed her anger and put her arms around her. Linda was glad Jenny seemed to have got over whatever had ailed her, and smiled at her, happy they were friends again.
TWENTY-FIVE
Linda and Jenny were still with the Masters in mid-October when Linda received another letter with an American stamp. It was from Louis Bradshaw. She’d written telling him of her impending marriage in the autumn and she’d heard nothing from him until now. She scanned the letter quickly.
Dear Linda,
I guess you’re married now and your husband will probably object to your coming over to the States, but honey there is one plum job awaiting for you here and I just had to let you know about it. They’re auditioning for a new musical in the spring and it’s ideal for you. I’ve persuaded the producer to give you a chance to show him what you can do. Don’t pass up this opportunity, Linda. ‘The Little Nightingale’ could be up in lights all over the States if this takes off …
The letter went on in a similar vein, but Linda didn’t read the rest. She looked through her bedroom window at the bleak winter’s night. It was bitterly cold and for days the skies had been grey and leaked icy spears of rain that stung faces and made eyes smart, and then froze during the night into lethal ice patches. It was depressing weather and Linda was thoroughly fed up with it. She wasn’t looking forward to Christmas, not at the Masters’ house. She’d gone to view yet another flat that evening which had been let before she’d even got there, and she was thoroughly browned off. And so, she knew, was Jenny.
Suddenly, she was seized with longing. Why shouldn’t she go to New York and take this audition, she and Jenny together? There was nothing to keep either of them here now – except their jobs, of course. Then there was also Peter Sanders who loved Jenny, but he would be better off forgetting about her altogether and finding someone who could return his affections, because he was a lovely, lovely man.
Fired up with enthusiasm, Linda put it to Jenny that very evening in their room as they prepared for bed. ‘I can’t just go sailing off to the States,’ Jenny said. ‘What about my job here?’ But really, Jenny was bored with her job and missed Peggy, who hadn’t returned since the birth of her new baby Niamh. She was totally fed up with life generally. She could see herself and Linda staying on at the Masters’ forever. Not Linda, of course, because she’d marry, but Jenny knew she never would. There’d be no one for her again. She’d be a maiden aunt to her brothers’ children and perhaps Linda’s, travelling around the country rootlessly to visit them all. The vision was totally depressing.
So, she thought, what was so wonderful about life in England that she clung to it so fiercely – a tedious routine job and a future full of nothing?
She had nowhere to live and no direction in her life. There was her family, of course, but she’d never been that close to Geraldine. Martin and Francis were on the South Coast and in the spring Jan and Seamus were moving to Northfield, totally the other side of the city, where Seamus had got a job in a firm making cars. She would miss her gran, but though she always made time for Jenny, Maureen’s life was full now with Dermot and little Niamh. Francesca Masters would be glad to get rid of them, though good manners would prevent her from ever saying so.
All night Jenny tossed and turned as her thoughts tumbled about her head. At last she slept and dreamt of Peter Sanders. She was on the train pulling out of New Street Station and he was running beside it, begging her not to go.
She woke with a cry of distress and told herself not to be so silly. Peter was a friend, no more and no less. But sleep evaded her for the rest of the winter’s night and when the alarm clock woke Linda, she told her to find out about passports and visas and any other documentation they’d need for the two of them to travel to the States.
When Jenny and Linda announced their plans for a new future, not everyone was enthusiastic. Both their bosses thought the two girls were totally irresponsible. Linda felt sorry for Mr Tollit, who told her over and over that she could be a first-class jeweller in time. She knew he’d taken trouble to teach her, and thought she had real talent. Once, to work in the jewellery quarter, making beautiful pieces of jewellery, had been the limit of her ambition. Now, new horizons had opened up for her. The audition might come to nothing, but Linda would regret it forever if she didn’t go, and would always wonder if she might have made it, had she taken the opportunity.
The personnel officer at the Dunlop had a heart-to-heart chat with Jenny, to try and talk her round. Jobs were going to be hard to get with all the men returning to civvy street, she said. It wasn’t the best time in the world to leave her job. Jenny refrained from saying she thought few returning servicemen would take up typing and accounts, and anyway, her mind was made up.
Meanwhile, Linda wrote long letters to Louis Bradshaw and sorted out passports for herself and Jenny while he sorted out visas and work p
ermits and made arrangements for their accommodation. Just before Christmas, Malcolm and Francesca Masters travelled to Portsmouth to watch their daughter become Mrs Paul Talbot, and in the New Year, Martin finally married his Dora. Jenny and Linda went down and Jenny watched him wed the girl not much bigger than herself, with the slightly dumpy figure and the laughing kindly eyes, and knew she would be good for her brother. Neither Martin nor Francis blamed her or Linda for leaving Britain and grasping new opportunities. ‘The world’s shrinking anyway, sis,’ Francis said to Jenny. ‘And you can always come back if it doesn’t work out.’ Jenny and Linda were both cheered by the boys’ positive outlook and put their doubts aside.
While the girls were away at Martin’s wedding, there was an incident at Geraldine’s house that caused her to examine her relationship with her mother properly for the first time. According to what Geraldine told Peter, Norah had gone berserk. She actually danced with delight when she heard that Linda’s engagement was off, but when the news filtered through about Linda and Jenny going to America and why, she’d become hysterical. ‘She was screaming fit to burst, Doctor,’ Geraldine had said tearfully. ‘I was trying to calm her, but she was beside herself and calling Linda dreadful names – you wouldn’t believe … I mean, I never thought to hear such things from my own mother’s lips.’
Peter was kneeling by Rosemarie, who was unconscious and ominously still, while an agitated Geraldine twisted her hands together and tried not to cry. The child was white-faced but for a scarlet handprint and Peter, looking up, said, ‘And what happened next?’
‘Rosemarie argued with Mother,’ Geraldine said. ‘And then she slapped her.’
‘Some slap!’
‘She knocked her off the chair she was sitting on in the kitchen, and she hit her head on the sink,’ Geraldine said and added on a firmer note, ‘but you needn’t worry, Doctor. It will never happen again.’
‘It had better not,’ Peter said grimly. ‘You must assert yourself, at least for your children’s sake.’
