Fragile Blossoms

by Dodie Hamilton

  Oh Christ! Freddie sighed. Why must I exaggerate? It’s Luke. It’s the way he stares through a person stripping veneer away and exposing a man to what he is. Every time they meet even to the shaking hands Freddie does and says foolish things, though where Rhode Island, and the pistol, is concerned he told the God’s honest truth.

  Freddie came to America July 4th 1879, his seventh birthday, a day of Independence in every way. Evie’s husband brought him, Sidney Bevington-Smythe, a cherub of a man with a will of iron. Sidney was accompanied by a man of mystery one Reuben Jamieson. They made the crossing aboard RMS Flagship Oceanic. Freddie shared a cot with Sidney, the mysterious Jamieson slept on the couch fully dressed a pistol in his belt and boots untied. Wherever Freddie went Jamieson went. ‘He was a strong-arm hired by Sidney.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, Luke, I was remembering when I left England to be with Evie and how Sidney hired Jamieson to keep us safe.’

  ‘What your butler?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Jamieson is some kind of bodyguard?’

  ‘Yes, are you surprised?’

  ‘Not in the least. He walks soft, one minute there and the next gone. So what was Evie’s husband that he needed protecting a racketeer?’

  ‘Protection wasn’t for him. It was for me.’

  ‘And why did you need protecting?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  That’s not true. That was Young Freddie, the seven year-old, telling lies. Thirty-year-old Freddie knows why Sidney hired a gun. It was to stop George Carrington stealing back his son.

  Independence Day is right. Freddie was taken from Charlecourt. More than a decade would pass before he would see the house again. Since memory twists and turns when recalling fear the story is apocryphal, Sidney coming to Charlecourt that day to discuss business with Sir George, the business in question the removal of Freddie to Rhode Island. Why it became a kidnapping no one is ready to say. When questioned Evie, who hates talking of the past, shrugs. ‘Don’t blow it out of proportion. Sidney was in England and took you for a spin in his new landau. He spun you further than anticipated.’

  Thousands of miles across an ocean is some spin. That area of his life is so blurred Freddie rarely asks questions. One question, a Big Question, was asked of him the second week at Rhode Island. ‘Now listen, son,’ Sidney had sat him down. ‘I’m gonna put a question to you. It’s a big question and so you must answer truthfully. All you have to do is nod your head for yes and shake if the answer is no. You get me, son?’

  Freddie got him and suspecting what was to come steeled his nerve.

  ‘I wanna ask if your Poppa did things you did not like. Did he for instance ever touch you in ways that hurt? I mean, did he try leading you into foul ways?’

  It was summer when Sidney asked the Big Question sunlight through the veranda roof making patterns on the wall. One pattern looked like a circus elephant balancing on a drum. Freddie once saw an elephant do that when a fair was pitched in the far meadow. The poor elephant kept slipping and a man kept whipping. Freddie cried and so did Nanny. Nanny Goldsmith was the one person he missed. The day he left with Sidney she seemed to know he was going for a long spin and taking him in her arms told him to be a good boy.

  ‘Be a good boy.’ Freddie hates those words. Only Nanny could make them sweet. Had Freddie’s son lived he would never have heard those words from his daddy. Never! False words they promise a gift but bring pain.

  The day Sidney asked the Big Question the elephant was trying to stay upright. Not wanting it to fall Freddie had shaken his head. ‘No sir,’ he’d said. ‘Papa didn’t lead me into foul ways.’ Young Freddie decided that day to quit the Past. He was in America an ocean between him and England. Evie had said he never need go back, he was to stay with her and Sidney forever. So it didn’t matter what Papa had said or done. Freddie denied the Question and forgot everything else because forgetting is much better than remembering.

  There are times when he does remember. Dribbling things like water spouts and painted fire screens come in nightmares. Even now he wakes screaming. Evie will rush in and hold him close. ‘I’m sorry,’ she’ll say. ‘I shouldn’t have left you.’ Evie and Freddie have lived together more than twenty years. Dear old Sid, bless his soul, is long gone. Sidney never asked the Question again but the week he died he came close. It was after an incident at college, an accusation. ‘I’ve been all over the world, son,’ he’d said his face screwed up. ‘I’ve seen miraculous things and terrible things and the older I get the more the line between miraculous and terrible blurs. I’m concerned for you. You’re a good boy but bruised and the bruises are beginning to show. Maybe if you told how they came about they’d go away.’

  Sidney died soon after. The Question was never asked again, nobody cared or dared to ask again until this day.

  ‘I don’t know why I had to drag Bella into it,’ said Freddie to Luke. ‘I was up at Cambridge at the time and desperate. I suppose I was tryin’ to see if my understandin’ of me was wrong.’

  ‘And what is your understanding of you?’

  ‘I am what fellows refer to as a bugger. I have been beaten about the head for being a bugger. I’ve been kicked and whipped and spat upon and often at the same time. I have been accused of theft, of stealin’ innocence, of pervertin’ younger boys, which I swear to you I’ve never done. I have been chastised for sayin’ things I never said and beaten for doin’ things I never did. So much and so often and all boilin’ down to one thing, I can’t love a woman.’

  ‘And yet you tried.’

  ‘I did and I’m sorry. Bella was kind to me. I told her, you know, how things were. She said it was alright she had enough carin’ for two.’

  ‘Susan was a simple girl. You must have known that.’

  ‘I did and I’m not makin’ excuses. I’m tryin’ to tell you how it was. What we did felt unnatural to me and she wasn’t over keen. We laughed about it. It was only once. I didn’t think it would lead to anythin’.’

  He wrung his hands then that wretched song about a lost dog still in his head.

  ‘At first she wanted the baby in the way a child wants a doll. Then I panicked and wouldn’t see her and she began to hate her condition.’ He began pulling his hair. ‘I must see Julianna! She’ll stop this horror goin’ round in my brain. She was there when they died. I need forgiveness. She’s the one can give it.’

  ‘That’s crazy talk. You can’t ask forgiveness of anyone but a priest. Go to church and seek absolution there.’

  ‘Do you believe in God then, Luke?’

  ‘No more than I believe in the forgiveness of sins. A man must have courage and live with his mistakes. If you’re going to need forgiveness don’t sin. ’

  ‘I never meant to hurt Susan,’ Freddie whispered. ‘She was a bruise I had hoped to make better. All I did was make more bruises.’

  They were inside the house. Freddie gazed about him. ‘Why did I think you lived in a Forge?’

  ‘Because before the big bang I did.’

  ‘The big bang? Is that Evie?’

  ‘No, not your sister so much as me realising there was more to life than taps and washers.’

  ‘You are more than taps and washers and always were.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I do. This house says so. I like it. It has space and is quiet. I could paint here. The light comin’ off the Common must be somethin’ to see.’

  ‘Then paint! There’s nothing to stop you. You’d be welcome. Meantime get some sleep.’ Luke flung a blanket over the bed. ‘You’ve a bathroom alongside and usual amenities. There are clothes in the cupboard and shirts in the drawer. You might find them a bit on the roomy side, you the size of a sparrow, but they’ll do for now.’

  Freddie knuckled his eyes. ‘Where shall you be?’

  ‘On the couch.’

  ‘I
say, that won’t do! I’ll take the couch. You must have your bed.’

  ‘I’ve stuff to sort, papers to look at and the like. Sleep and be easy.’

  ‘I feel awkward takin’ your bed.’

  ‘No need. If I’m tired I’ll sleep. I’m one of those that die when sleeping.’

  ‘You have a clear conscience.’

  ‘I doubt that. Anyway as I say I’ve things to do.’ When Freddie lingered Luke smiled. ‘It’s alright,’ he said his glance kind. ‘No need to be spooked. I’m not going to steal up later and do you a disservice.’

  Freddie laughed and coloured up. ‘Surely that should be my line.’

  Luke stamped downstairs. ‘I thought to save you time.’

  Freddie is dreaming. It is a familiar dream. He’s back in Charlecourt and he’s four-years old. Nanny Goldsmith has him by the hand and is taking him down the back stairs and into the library. Nanny sits him down on a padded stool. She wheels a fire screen in front of Freddie, a big wooden screen with huntsmen blowing a horn and hounds, the one that stands by Papa’s desk.

  Nanny is unhappy, Freddie can tell, she mutters of sinners and the Wrath of God. She always speaks of the Wrath when cross. She wheels the screen closer. Freddie laughs thinking they are to play ‘Beep-Boo!’ Nanny’s not laughing. She puts a finger to her lips and says, ‘be a good boy. Be very quiet, do not utter a word, Nanny will come and fetch you when it’s all over.’

  ‘When it’s all over?’

  Freddie doesn’t know what that means. Alone, he sits in the big brown room with the big brown desk and books on the shelves and is afraid. It is such a big room for such a small boy. Then the door opens and Papa comes in. He leads a lady by the hand, a young lady in a white dress. Freddie sees them come in then loses them, the screen between him and Papa. He sits in this dream feeling lonely and wishing he had Paul Revere to hug, the grey knitted cat with a top-hat made of stars that his sister sent from America,. He wanted to bring Paul Revere to the Library but Nanny said no, Papa wouldn’t like it.

  Noises come from behind the screen, squishing sounds like the springs of the nursery sofa going up and down. Papa is whispering and the lady is weeping. Freddie doesn’t like to hear it. The noises go on and on as if they are never to stop and the whispering gets louder. Freddie sticks his fingers in his ears and thinks he’s been here in this room sitting on this stool before and there was the fire screen and another lady who wept.

  He seems to know the horror will not last, that Nanny Goldsmith will take him back to the nursery. They will not speak, she will ask no questions and he’ll tell no lies. There will be an examination of his body. She will remove his clothes and examine every nook and crevice. She’ll find nothing because as with the Big Question there’s nothing to see. Papa doesn’t touch him in a wrong way, although hands have pulled and fingers have poked and a child has wept, but there’s not a mark on Freddie’s body. Any bruising he has is marked on his soul.

  The noise behind the screen is getting louder and there’s the sound of a boot stamping the floor. ‘Open the door, little girl!’ Papa is shouting. ‘Open the door and let Papa in!’ Freddie starts to cry. He dreads something awful will happen, a thing so ugly and sad he’ll never be able to forget. He thinks the fire screen will fall and the hunting scene, the pink-coated riders and their horses, will be smashed to pieces and he will know who Papa hurts.

  Someone once said, ‘what the eyes don’t see the heart cannot grieve over.’

  Freddie grieves because even without seeing he knows what’s happening on the other side of the screen. He knows the little girl is a servant who clears fire-grates in the morning. She wears a white apron and her black stockings are wrinkled and skin top of her stockings is very white. He sees Papa hunched over as a big black crow and grieves because Papa knows his little boy is on the other side of the screen. Papa knows because he brought him here and will bring him again. Papa likes that his little son can hear the squishing and weeping. There’ll be another girl just as young and just as frightened, and eventually the screen will fall, and Freddie will see who it is and he’ll scream and scream...!

  Luke heard the scream through his own dream. Unable to stay awake he’d slept where he sat, his face squashed among the papers ink giving him an extra eyebrow. In his dream Luke was with his father. A storm was coming, the sky over the Brenta peaks black. They discuss the vines and if the rain is heavy the land will slip. The harvest is small this season and yet rich, it doesn’t want spoiling. Luke and his father board the cart with shovels. They go to pitch a gulley above the vines to siphon silt away. They aren’t worried. It’s been done before. They are happy, there will be a gathering this evening, a celebration with friends from across the valley. Luke’s wife walks alongside the wagon her hand reaching up to his. He bends to kiss her. She tastes of wild strawberries and baby milk. She says take care. She says she needs him with her not scattered all over the mountain. A child is crying somewhere, the sound echoing about the mountain. Then the crying becomes a scream and his wife breaks away. He tries to hold her and to tell her it’s not their son, she needn’t worry, but she’s gone, skirts fluttering, and the scream is getting louder.

  It is Freddie screaming.

  ‘Christ’s sake!’

  Luke ran up the stairs. Mouth wide open and eyes staring Freddie sits up in the bed. ‘Hey!’ Luke took him by the shoulder. ‘Wake up!’

  Snap! Freddie was awake.

  Luke’s ears are ringing from the scream. ‘God, Freddie, what’s all that about?’

  Eyes and brain locked into another time Freddie can’t speak.

  ‘Hey, come on old chap!’ Luke snapped his fingers. ‘Why the racket, is somebody trying to kill you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Freddie nodded. ‘And I’m not sure he didn’t succeed.’

  It took a while to calm down and even then tears were only below the surface. ‘So who was trying to kill you?’

  ‘My father, George Reginald Stewart Baines-Carrington, QC, the great man himself, barrister at Inns of Court fighting for justice and all that is right and good, a respected man, a knight of the realm and friend of Her Majesty.’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He is a terrible man. We were all afraid of him servants and family alike. Nowadays he’s more insect than man but still Iphigenia Carrington, my poor sad mother, is so afraid of what he might do she bolts her door at night. Not to keep him away! Oh no! She’s no fear of that. Mater’s old. George likes his flesh young and juicy.’

  ‘My God! Are you saying he...he hurt you?’

  ‘Yes he hurt me but not the way you think. He never laid a finger on me, not then and not since. It’s girls for George, little girls, young and timid, servants mostly whose parents are tied to the land so nobody dare complain. He took my sister from me. The only reason Evie got married was to get away. She went to the States and left me behind. She says I take after him, son and heir to the Charlecourt rapist. And she’s right, witness two innocent souls in a grave not far from here.’

  ‘She’s not right!’ Luke sat beside him. ‘That was your father not you. You didn’t rape Susan. It was an agreed thing.’

  ‘It wasn’t agreed! A servant working for a living and me her mistresses’ brother, how could she not agree? Evie is right I am like my father except I have darker perversions, I’m queer as well as a brute.’

  Head in his hands Freddie began to weep great gusting sobs. ‘Such a man! Sir George liked to bring girls down the back stairs to the library, a solemn place, difficult to fight in there with pictures of great men staring down. Who can refuse a man like that in his private domain? Ten or twelve years of age, young and preferably pretty, he raped them and he made sure I knew. Young as I was he’d bring me to watch, or rather Nanny would bring me. I was a member of the audience but not up front in the expensive seats hidden away behind a screen. I couldn’t see what went on. I wasn’t meant to. I
was meant to hear and imagine and to be afraid of the cryin’ and the whisperin’, a dirty little boy spyin’ on a dirty old man.’

  ‘No Freddie!’ Luke took him in his arms and rocked him. ‘Not a dirty little boy, a child at the mercy of a beast.’

  ‘Yes for all I know still a beast! He’s crippled with arthritis now and not able to get about but the memory is there. That stool and that screen! When he dies I shall burn them. I’ll set fire to them and him a wretched Guy Faulkes perched on top. It’s a shame Nanny won’t be there to join me.’

  ‘Did she know what was going on?’

  ‘She did. It was she who wrote to Sidney but whatever she wrote was more a guess because, bless her, she would strip my clothes and examine me to make sure it wasn’t me raped. Sidney fetched me away because he thought I was bein’ molested. I was but not how he thought. Poor Sid and poor Nanny! Be good she would say and I’ll fetch you when it’s all over.’

  Luke shook his head. ‘Monsters are everywhere.’

  ‘They are. For years I tried kiddin’ myself it was a dream but in my heart I knew it was more. I pushed it away until the thing with Bella then I couldn’t push anymore. Tonight the séance, the singin’ and all, I thought I’d die. Then Evie said that and I saw myself a twisted creature not fit to live, Freddie Carrington, the queer who hangs about street corners, hands in his pockets, lookin’ to suck a man’s cock. My father made me so.’

  ‘Did he make you so?’

  ‘It must be! All that cryin’ and screamin’, and they did scream, the little girls, it has to be that. Why else would I be this way about women, that I wouldn’t want sex with them at any price?’

  ‘Maybe because you are a bugger.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I said maybe because you are a bugger. Your father is the worst of men, to call him beast is to malign other decent creatures. I am not surprised by your childhood. Shocked yes but not surprised. I always knew there was something. Children suffer and pass their sufferings on. But why should it be that way with you. Why should you want as you say to suck a man’s cock because your father abused women? It doesn’t make sense. If the thought of loving a woman is unnatural to you might it not be because you prefer men?’