by Val Wood
‘I couldn’t … I can’t go on,’ Delia began at last. ‘We have no permanent home; we move from one set of lodgings to another, living from hand to mouth on the pittance I earn. Being in the theatre isn’t the glamorous life that you might imagine, and although I managed when he was a baby and he was always a good child and someone would keep an eye on him whilst I was on stage …’ It was as if the floodgates had opened and her words poured out without stopping. ‘But now that he’s older he needs to go to school and although he’s been whenever I’ve had a long run he can’t settle because he knows that we’ll soon be on the road again—’
‘So you came back because,’ Jenny interrupted gently, ‘you thought your parents might have relented?’
‘I didn’t know where else to go or what to do. Perhaps I thought they might have relented; I don’t know why I should have, not after being told all those years ago never to show my face again. I was stupid. They didn’t want any explanations; my mother had heard me being sick and knew immediately, even before I did; she told me to get off and tell the lad’s parents and ask what they were going to do about it, and then later that day she told my father and he leathered me with his belt and my mother said nothing.’
‘I’m so very sorry,’ Jenny said, putting her hand on Delia’s arm. ‘But why didn’t you come to see me or my mother? Ma would have helped you.’
Delia stared at Jenny. This was the crux of the matter; now she would know whether or not they would remain friends.
‘I did,’ she whispered. ‘But you weren’t there; you’d stayed in Hull with someone from your school and – and I spoke to your mother. She said that you and your friend were doing exams together and you’d been invited to stay with her and her family. I think your mother thought I was unwell and she made me sit down and gave me a cup of tea – and then – and she told me that …’ She swallowed hard. ‘She said that Jack and Susan had gone to church to see the vicar about having the banns read because they were getting married.’
She took a breath and her next words came out on a shuddering sob. ‘And I knew then that my life was completely over.’
They sat in silence for a while. One of the young porters came and put another log on the fire and then they got up and sat at their corner table, waiting for the food to be brought.
‘What do you mean?’ Jenny asked quietly. ‘Why did you think that? Did you not consider going to the man – boy – who had committed this …’ she let out a sigh, ‘outrage, and confront him or his parents?’
Delia turned her face away; a small frown knitted her forehead.
‘Delia?’ Jenny bent towards her.
Delia lifted her moist eyes to Jenny’s. ‘Do I really have to spell it out for you?’ she whispered, and her voice was bitter. ‘I was a virgin. I’d never even kissed a boy.’
Jenny ran her tongue over her lips. I hope this doesn’t mean – surely not. He wouldn’t – would he? ‘What – what is it you’re implying, Delia?’
‘I think you can guess and I’m not implying anything.’ Delia held back another sob. ‘I’m telling you and you did say I should unburden myself and that’s what I’m doing at the risk of losing our friendship.’
She lowered her head and fell silent again as their soup was brought. When the waiter had gone she took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘I’m telling you that one late afternoon in February eleven years ago I was walking back from the village with some shopping. It was dark and raining and as I came to your farm I thought I’d call on your mother and tell her that I’d received a letter from you, and then I was going to take a short cut home across Foggit’s land.
‘Jack answered the door and told me she had gone to Hedon. He was – well, he looked different, I don’t know what it was, and he looked at me oddly and then he said …’ She took a heaving breath and clutched her chest. ‘He said did I have time to go with him to the barn before I went home. I’d always liked Jack, he’d always been friendly towards me, and I thought he was going to show me a litter of puppies or kittens, so I said all right and he carried my basket and I went with him. He led me to the back of the barn behind a stack of straw and took hold of me and began kissing me. I told him to stop but he said he couldn’t because he’d always liked me.’
She couldn’t go on; couldn’t tell Jack’s sister of the things he’d said to her, of how soft her skin was next to his; or of how he’d torn her skirt and petticoat in his haste and how the straw had scratched her and she’d cried, and he’d said don’t cry because other girls liked it and she would too, and put his mouth over hers so that she wouldn’t scream out that he was hurting her.
And then, when I thought he would break me in two, he’d suddenly given a groan and rolled off me and looked at me and said I was lovely and he was sorry if he’d hurt me and I couldn’t speak because I was so ashamed.
She sobbed and sobbed, all the humiliation, distress and anxiety that she had bottled up for so long released like air from a balloon.
Jenny moved her chair back from the table, and putting her arm about Delia’s shoulder she led her towards the ladies’ room. She didn’t speak until they were inside; it was as if she was trying to make sense of what she had just heard, and wondering also what words could be used to help or comfort, while knowing that there was no expression of commiseration that could possibly put the situation right.
Her brother at nineteen had been arrogant, knew everything there was to know about everything, or so he thought, but he was also naïve and gullible and easily led astray.
He wouldn’t have been led astray by Delia, or Dorothy as she was then, for she wouldn’t have known how to begin to lead a boy on; but he was friends then with Ralph Pearce, who had an eye for the girls and wouldn’t have hesitated to gloat over his conquests to someone as susceptible as Jack, goading him on to find prey of his own.
Not that it excuses him, she thought, and he deserves the come-uppance that I think he’s had with his darling wife – and perhaps he led her astray too.
‘I’m so sorry, Delia,’ she murmured. ‘So very sorry that it was my brother who did this to you.’
Delia lifted her tear-stained, red-eyed face to hers. ‘You believe me?’ she said hoarsely.
‘Of course I believe you.’ Jenny handed her a clean handkerchief. ‘Why would you make up a story like that? What I don’t understand, though, is why, after living down south for so long, you brought your son here and left him with a family he had never met – with the man who had ruined your life?’
Delia blew her nose. ‘I didn’t intend to,’ she said thickly. ‘I went home first to see how the land was lying. I didn’t even know if my parents were still there.’ She heaved a breath. ‘And I suppose I really did hope that they might have had a change of heart, felt sorry for being hasty, you know, and would help me in some way. How green I still am. Then we stayed overnight at the Hedon Arms and I was told about the hiring fair so I took Jack – my Jack, I mean; that’s his real name – to see it. It used to be the highlight of my year; I didn’t have much fun in my life. Afterwards we went into the Sun Inn for something to eat. I had only a little money left.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I went to get a plate of bread and beef and when I came back with it Jack had gone into the snug and was sitting at a table watching all the families with their children and I knew what he was missing; and then I saw him, your brother Jack, and I was so upset I had to go out for some air. When I came back again there was my Jack sitting with them and tucking into an enormous plate of food.’
She gave a choking, weeping laugh. ‘I saw your mother and your father, and I remembered how kind Peggy had been to me that day, as if she knew there was something wrong that I couldn’t tell her, and – and I thought that she wouldn’t turn him away. It was an instant decision, impetuous, stupid, and I regretted it the minute I got back on the train.’
She turned to face Jenny again. ‘But it was too late. A step too far. If I’d gone back I’d have had to face them all, confront your brothe
r and accuse him in front of everyone – and what if he’d denied it? Who would they have believed, and what would I have done then?’
Jenny nodded. What indeed? She remained silent for a moment, and it seemed to Delia that Jenny was pondering on a problem, analysing the facts as she saw them without any emotion involved, as Delia was unable to do.
‘Very well,’ Jenny declared at last. ‘Rinse your face and then come back to the table and finish your meal. Don’t try to run away, as I’ll be watching.’
She left the ladies’ room and returned to the dining room; the soup dishes had gone and a waiter was standing near. She apologized and said he could bring the next course, which he did just as Delia returned with her hair tidied and a touch of powder to calm her flushed cheeks.
Neither of them said very much for the rest of the meal, Delia eating little and both declining a dessert or coffee. Jenny asked for the bill, which she paid, then looked round for a porter. There was just one, standing by the inner door, stifling a yawn, and she signalled to him.
‘Order a cab, will you please?’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘So sorry to keep you, we’ve been catching up with news.’
She turned to Delia. ‘We’re going to sleep on it; I’m dropping you off at your lodgings and you’re not going to think about anything tonight, and tomorrow we’ll meet for lunch – or no, I know, I’ll come here to meet you and then I’ll take you back to my place and we’ll have lunch there. How does that sound?’
‘Thank you,’ Delia whispered, feeling humble and not knowing what else to say. ‘Are you sure, Jenny? I feel as if I’ve put all my problems on to your shoulders.’
‘We’ll share the weight,’ Jenny said. ‘And it isn’t only your dilemma, Delia, it’s also someone else’s, but as he can’t help at this stage it’s up to the rest of us to help out if we can.’
‘Robin!’ Delia whispered. ‘Is that really what my Jack calls himself?’
‘Robin Jackson,’ Jenny said. ‘What is his proper name? Deakin? Delamour?’
‘Jack Robinson Deakin on his birth certificate,’ Delia murmured. ‘But I never told him about the Deakin. He thinks it’s only Jack Robinson and said he didn’t like it as people were always saying Before you can say Jack Robinson. I told him to change it if he didn’t like it. I should never have given him that name. It was a perverse act on my part to prove his birthright, even though an outrage had been committed against me.’
She shook her head and gave a wry grimace, but Jenny suddenly laughed. ‘Robin Jackson! What a smart boy!’ she chuckled. ‘I’ve just realized, Delia, that Robin Jackson alias Jack Robinson is my nephew!’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jenny lay sleepless in bed. She tried to put herself in Delia’s position; what would she have done in similar circumstances?
For a start she would have told her mother what had happened, but she understood why Delia couldn’t do that with hers; she would have been too frightened and ashamed. She’d always thought that Delia’s mother was a mean woman. She would and obviously did blame Delia; Jenny had disliked her even when they were young, and she doubted whether Delia’s father would have troubled himself to go off after the perpetrator when it was easier just to throw his daughter out, and the shame with her.
Unlike her own father, she thought, who, although a moderate placid man, hated injustice and had a strong sense of what was right and proper and would have seen justice done even at his own hands; and that might now be a problem, she told herself, for our Jack is his son and married with children whom Aaron adores; so what can be done in reparation? Her father would most certainly turn against her brother if he heard what had happened.
What a can of worms. She turned over on her pillow, bashing it with her fist to make a comfy nest for her head. I think I’ll have to tell Mother and I’m certain she’ll accept Robin – and then, of course, she thought suddenly, she’ll no longer be anxious about him, for as she’s his real grandmother no one will be able to say she can’t keep him. But I won’t tell Father. I’ll let Mother decide on that.
She fell asleep, and woke again an hour later. And then, if Delia stays in Hull, perhaps Robin could come here and see her. That’s it, she thought sleepily, her mind befuddled. That’s the way round it. A conundrum; there’s always a solitary – no, a soli-solvable – solution, if you think hard enough.
When Delia waved goodbye to Jenny, she felt drained of energy; the telling of her story had completely emptied her out and she knew she wouldn’t sleep. She turned her key in the lodging house door and, after locking it behind her as requested on the placard inside, opened the door into the small sitting room which the landlady called the theatricals’ lounge. A low fire was burning behind a fire guard and Giles Dawson was fast asleep in an easy chair in front of it.
Carefully she moved the guard to one side and with the coal tongs placed a few pieces of coal on the embers. He didn’t stir, and she sat down opposite and observed him.
In repose, his forehead was smooth, unlike when he was playing, when a small frown of concentration creased between his eyebrows. He had fine features, smooth skin and a generous mouth, rather like Arthur Crawshaw, she thought, except that their colouring differed; Arthur was dark-haired and dark-eyed and very aristocratic, with a short beard and a penetrating gaze, whereas Giles was fair, with friendly blue eyes and a clean-shaven chin.
He suddenly opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. ‘Miss Delamour, hello,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it odd that even when asleep you can sense when someone else appears?’
‘Can you?’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know.’
He gazed at her. ‘Mmm. Perhaps women don’t fall asleep as easily as men do. You take care not to be caught catching flies or snoring.’
‘You weren’t snoring,’ she told him, ‘and you had your mouth firmly closed.’
‘Really?’
Delia blushed even though she knew he was teasing her by suggesting that she had been watching him, which she had.
He sat up in the chair. ‘Have you had a pleasant evening?’
Delia hesitated; she probably looked a wreck, eyes reddened, drained. ‘I met my friend Jenny Robinson,’ she said. ‘We’re still catching up with all our news.’
‘Is she a married woman?’ he asked. ‘Or independent like yourself?’
‘She’s a single woman, a teacher.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Forgive me if I seem inquisitive. It’s just that you meet late in the evenings and not during the day, but of course if she’s a teacher that explains it. She’s busy following her profession.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘I admire the strength of women who follow a chosen career, as you have done too. There are so many pitfalls for women, who generally are expected to marry and have children rather than live a life that they choose for themselves.’
Delia turned her gaze away from him. ‘Life doesn’t always allow you to choose what you do with it,’ she said slowly. ‘Sometimes it’s thrust upon you and there is no option but to follow one path.’
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his long cord-clad legs. ‘Isn’t there sometimes an alternative?’
She gave a short sardonic scoff. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, thinking of her lowest ebb when she had contemplated the deep waters of the estuary. ‘An alternative indeed, and often the only solution.’
‘Miss Delamour!’ he said. ‘Are you – do you have troubles? Can I – can I help in any way? Listen to your problems? Be a shoulder to cry on?’
She lifted her head and turned to him. ‘Is it so obvious?’
He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said honestly. ‘You have been through some difficult times, I think. You have a deep sadness within you.’
‘You’re very observant.’ There was a slight bitterness in her tone.
‘I am. When I see a beautiful woman who rarely smiles, I wonder why. Has she suffered great sorrow, been through some deep crisis in her life? Forgive me,’ he said again. ‘Life is often difficult and I don’
t wish to pry.’ He put out a hand towards her. ‘But if I can help with anything, I would like to. I’d like to think that you would consider me as a friend.’
Delia stood up, ignoring the hand that he proffered. ‘There’s nothing,’ she said, her voice tight and strangled, and she felt the sharp stone of rancour lodged within her. ‘Nothing to be done. My life is what it is.’
He rose from his chair too and studied her perceptively, the small characteristic frown furrowed between his eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, but she raised her hand in rejection.
‘Don’t be,’ she said, turning away. ‘Goodnight.’
She was sorry, of course; she was not usually so abrupt or ill-mannered and the next morning, as she ate breakfast alone, she wondered if he had left and hoped that he hadn’t. It was nine o’clock, the latest time for breakfast, and he was usually down early. He hadn’t said if he was going on to another booking; in fact she knew nothing about him. She had become so wrapped up in her own miserable life that she hadn’t thought to ask him anything about himself; and he hadn’t offered any information voluntarily.
I don’t know anything about anyone, she realized as she drank the weak and tasteless coffee. I never enquire in case anyone, in return, asks about my situation. She put her hand to her forehead. A headache was hovering. I know nothing about Arthur either, she sighed. In all the years I’ve known him I’ve never asked why he doesn’t have a regular spot, or where he has been recently, and he never questions me either, though he must have drawn his own conclusions.
She pushed away from the table and glanced through the net curtains and out of the window. The outlook was grey but it wasn’t raining, and she decided to take a walk to clear her head. She went upstairs for her coat and on impulse knocked on Giles Dawson’s door as she passed. She had noticed the number on his key, which they always laid on the table as they were too big for pockets or handbags.
