The Keepsake

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘He will for me,’ replied his assured companion. ‘I refuse to turn back for anything.’ She urged him to keep walking, then linked his arm daringly. ‘I thought you’d never come!’

  ‘This is the third time I’ve been here – third time lucky.’ He could smile now at how long it had taken, for during the interim he had accrued a few shillings. Normally his mother would be the one to benefit from his tips, but lately he had become a miser. In addition he had spent the last three weeks trying to earn money in other ways, though it was still barely enough to fund his elopement.

  He dared not look over his shoulder at the straight road behind, but felt the coachman’s eyes boring into his back and said so. ‘Wouldn’t it have been wiser to send him away? He’s seen you with me now.’

  ‘In retrospect it might have been wiser not to bring him at all but I had to make everything appear normal. If I’d sent him home he’d guess of my intention to abscond and would run directly to my father. By telling him to wait for me I’ve ensured that he daren’t disobey – at least for a reasonable period.’

  By the time the carrier came past they were fifty yards or so from the village, but Etta turned out to be right. At the commanding wave of her parasol the driver obligingly halted for the lady and her companion to get onboard, the other passengers shuffling up to make room. Huddled close together on the wooden seat, the horse clip-clopping onwards, she and Marty looked back along the arrow-straight road to where the coachman still waited obediently in the distance.

  Marty chuckled sympathetically. ‘He won’t still be standing there in the dark, will he?’

  Overwhelmed by happiness, Etta smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Don’t waste your pity, he’ll have none for us when he speeds off to tell Father the moment this vehicle disappears. But at least we’ve gained a head start.’

  Her suitor felt a pang of concern, wishing he had planned this better. After the previously abortive attempts at elopement he had not visualised success this time and consequently had omitted to arrange anywhere for them to live. However, he didn’t tell Etta this, not with a cart full of people eyeing the mismatched couple suspiciously. In fact, under these strained circumstances, they were to say little to each other at all during the two and a half hour journey that followed.

  Only when they were finally standing on the antiquated pavement of York and his young bride-to-be looked expectantly at him for direction did Marty confess. ‘Sorry, I haven’t managed to secure us any lodgings yet.’

  Etta was unfazed, deliriously happy just to be with him, clinging to his arm and gazing up into his eyes. ‘Didn’t you say your work occasionally involves you having to sleep at the hotel? You can sneak me into the room where you stay.’

  ‘I’m sure Ned would be delighted.’

  ‘Who’s Ned?’

  ‘The bloke whose turn it is tonight.’ Despite the joke, Marty felt inept. ‘Besides, it’s the first place your father will look for us.’

  ‘I’m afraid I haven’t enough money to pay for accommodation,’ said Etta. ‘I did manage to acquire some since we last met but in my rush to meet you I completely forgot it. I feel terribly foolish.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ He patted her. ‘There’s only one thing for it. It’s risky, but if I can find out which rooms are unoccupied I could hide you in one of them for a day or so, until I can organise somewhere else.’

  Her eyes sparkled, such intrigue adding spice to the romance. Marty, too, felt not fear but elation as they made their way from the busy Rougier Street, under a carved limestone arch in the Bar Walls, and on to the magnificent edifice that was the Royal Station Hotel. Advising Etta to wait in the sunlit grounds, heavy with the scent of roses, he affected a casual entrance to the hotel via the door marked tradesmen, as if arriving for work, yet his appearance drew amazement from the others. ‘Can’t stay away, Bootsie?’

  He dealt them as carefree a laugh as he could. ‘Aye, I love it so much. No, I just nipped in to ask Joe if he wants to go for a drink tonight. Is he about?’ Told that the page was upstairs, he made his way there. ‘It’s Wilko’s day off too, isn’t it? Nobody to catch me then!’

  But upon finding Joe there was no mention of beer. Marty used a different fib. ‘I just came to collect something I left behind the other day – busy, are we?’

  Joe took the opportunity to slouch against the wall, nibbling a hangnail. ‘Nah, there’s not that many in.’

  ‘What about that grumbling old sod in eighty-four?’

  ‘Gone, thank God, and not so much as a farthing tip.’

  ‘Got somebody better in there now?’

  Joe shook his head, winced and spat out the hangnail. ‘Nobody at all, as far as I know.’ He studied his bleeding finger then sucked it.

  Not wanting to compromise his friend, Marty merely nodded, whilst working out how to get hold of a key. After chatting a few minutes more he said a cheery farewell to Joe and padded downstairs to the lobby. Having scant luck until now he could scarcely believe it when he saw that the area behind the reception desk was deserted. Knowing it would not be so for long, he dashed in, grabbed the key and was outside pressing it into Etta’s hand before anyone had noticed its absence.

  ‘You’ll have to do this on your own,’ he instructed, escorting her as far as he dared towards the east entrance. ‘But it shouldn’t be too difficult, nobody’ll dare to challenge someone like you. Just march through as if you own the place and go to room eighty-four.’ He told her where it was.

  ‘And you’ll meet me there?’ Etta asked eagerly.

  ‘If I can, but I’m not meant to be at work until tomorrow so if I’m accosted and can’t manage it don’t worry, just lie low till morning.’

  For the first time she showed apprehension. ‘But how will I survive alone?’

  His green eyes turned thoughtful. ‘Maybe we could buy some food now before you go in.’

  She clicked her tongue and dealt him a gentle shake. ‘I meant how will I survive without you? I ran away so that we could be together.’

  ‘And we will be, always!’ His cheery grin encouraged her. ‘This is only for a short while until I get us somewhere permanent. I can’t stay out all night, my parents will be suspicious. But I promise I’ll try my hardest to spend some time with you.’

  ‘And what of my valise?’ She pointed to the bag he was holding. ‘Am I to carry it myself?’

  Agreeing this might attract attention, his worry soon evaporated. ‘Why, it’ll give me just the excuse I need to come up!’ And he urged her on her way, saying he would follow.

  Watching her enter, he feasted his gaze on the hips that curved from the nipped-in waist. That she did not come out was a good sign. After a tense wait for the coast to clear – not just of superiors but of workmates too, for he did not know just who to trust – Marty saw an opportunity, grabbed it and pelted to Etta’s room, tapping urgently on the door until she unlocked it.

  Then they were free to indulge their passion, if not to its ultimate conclusion – although Marty certainly tried. With Etta’s breast crushed to his, her lips returning his hungry, grinding kisses, working him into a lustful frenzy, he was positive that she was equally aroused. Hence, whilst one of his hands cupped the small of her back, moulding her groin against his, the fingers of his other hand sought out the buttons at the nape of her neck. To his frustration they were the very devil to undo – and there seemed thousand upon thousand of them. Frustrated but undeterred, he moved his attention to other regions, running his hands around her buttocks, kneading and pulling her into even deeper intimacy. When she did not stop him, but returned his amorous kisses whilst moving her hands as freely over his body, he put one of his feet against hers, and then the other, inching forward, compelling her to walk backwards until she felt the bed pressing against her legs and had no option but to fall back upon it with Marty atop her. After a brief grunt of impact they resumed kissing, his movements becoming ever bolder, grasping handfuls of silken pink material and eventually managing t
o hoist the hem of her petticoat.

  But a farmer’s daughter, even a gentleman farmer’s daughter, could not fail to have learned a little about the facts of life. Though flushed and excited, her eyes glazed with desire, Etta squirmed violently at the more intimate intrusion. ‘Martin, what are you doing? Put that away!’

  ‘Sorry! I thought you wanted – oh, Etta, I’ll be so careful!’

  But she was fighting him now, grabbing his shoulders, straining to lever him from her. ‘I’ve seen the stallion brought to the mares! It’s for one reason only and I’ve no wish to be in foal!’

  ‘But they say that can’t happen the first time! Please let me, sweetheart. I can’t stop now, you’ve made me want to explode!’ He fell upon her again, planting fervent coaxing kisses all over her face and neck, trying to manoeuvre himself into position.

  ‘Martin, you can stop and you will!’

  Alarmed that her loud protestation would fetch witnesses, her ardent suitor issued a gasp of frustration and allowed himself to be displaced as, with a last growling heave, Etta hurled him to one side and dragged down her skirt, her breast rapidly rising and falling.

  There was a moment’s silence during which he lay beside her and sulked. Then, with a scissor movement he leapt up and stalked across the room, his back to her as he adjusted his clothing. ‘I’m sorry I misunderstood – we are to be wed, after all.’

  ‘And once we are then you shall have the matrimonial benefits,’ came her firm reply. ‘But I won’t escape from one bully to saddle myself with another.’

  Grossly affronted, Marty wheeled about. ‘How can you compare me with him? I adore you!’

  ‘But you don’t respect me,’ she retorted.

  ‘I do!’ Then his objection gave way to serious contemplation, which terminated in a grin of self-confession. ‘Well, sorry…I did get a bit carried away.’ He rushed to her side again, stroking and petting her in an unthreatening manner. ‘It’s just that I’ve never wanted anyone so much as I want you, Etta.’ His eyes showed it. ‘I thought you wanted me in the same way.’

  ‘Oh, Martin, I do.’ Hardly able to breathe through passion, she put a hand to his cheek, holding his droopy-lidded gaze earnestly. When the subject of marriage had first been aired she had asked her mother what to expect. Mother had refused to discuss it, saying that it was all rather horrid but a wife must put up with it. None of her friends could enlighten her either. A determined Etta had finally gone back to Blanche, who had previously refused to be drawn but being of a lower class and the dispenser of bawdy jokes must surely be more conversant with such matters than herself. Despite professing to know little more than her mistress, amid great embarrassment, Blanche had finally been coaxed into detail, and had likened the marital act to what happened amongst the animals. ‘Or so I’m told! I’m dreading it myself.’ Etta had found it repellent too then, but the thought of such a union with Marty was utterly different. ‘But I want to be married first. I don’t think you understand how shameful it is for a woman to bear a child out of wedlock. You see, I’ve witnessed one of our maids being sent packing for such a reason.’

  ‘Do you realise how insulting that is?’ It was his turn to accuse now. ‘You’re insinuating that once I’ve had what I want I’ll leave you in the lurch!’

  ‘I didn’t mean that, I know I can trust you. It’s just…’

  ‘It’s just you think I’m a lying tinker.’

  ‘No!’ Disturbed, Etta struggled to conjure a plausible answer, hating that sullen frown upon Martin’s brow, eventually admitting in a little voice, ‘It’s…I’m frightened.’

  Overwhelmed with love, he hugged her then. ‘Oh, you poor little thing! But I’ve explained to you, nothing awful will come of it.’

  ‘Is that what you say to all the girls?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘There must have been plenty – you seem very experienced.’

  ‘There hasn’t! Well, only one.’

  A small voice. ‘And did you love her?’

  He shook his head, ashamed to tell the truth, that the girl had only been someone liberal with her favours and had meant nothing to him. ‘I didn’t know what love was until I met you, Etta. The last thing I want is to hurt you.’ He cradled her dark skull, kissing the top of it. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  ‘I do.’ She suddenly regained her passion, grasping his arms, her face close to his. ‘Oh, we can do it if you want!’

  Marty was not so noble as to refuse and his question was academic. ‘Are you sure?’

  At her nod he was instantly eager and upon her again, Etta returning his passion, even removing some of her clothing for him and welcoming the intimacy she had refused before. But at the vital moment he sensed that her invitation still veiled a modicum of doubt and he gave an agonised groan. ‘Oh God, Etta, you’re not going to stop me again, are ye?’

  ‘No, no, go on!’

  Still, as he examined her face he saw fear, and, barely able to contain himself, gasped,

  ‘Oh Christ, look, it’s no good if you feel like that. I won’t go all the way, just grip it between your thighs like this –’

  An anxious query. ‘Is that all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes! Now, stay with me!’ And hanging on to her tightly he set the bed rocking.

  It was over quickly and afterwards he remained on top of her, lungs heaving, breath hot upon her neck.

  Etta remained slightly stunned. ‘Gosh…I didn’t expect…that was very pleasurable, wasn’t it?’

  His body shook in silent laughter and he nodded into her shoulder. Fancy a lady saying that to him!

  She tensed. ‘Are you mocking me?’

  He lifted his face rapidly to deny this, his eyes warm with love and sated desire.

  Still, somewhat guilty for leading him on, she asked tentatively, ‘Did you mind very much that we weren’t able to do it properly?’

  ‘Ah, God love you, my dear, dear sweetheart!’ Marty dealt her a resounding kiss. ‘That was as close as dammit.’ He moved to give her breathing space, though not too far, their bodies remained in contact. ‘And very pleasurable for me too I might add.’ He could hardly believe that he felt so relaxed as to say such a thing, but Etta felt like a part of himself, always had from the minute they’d met.

  ‘And you don’t mind that I’m making you wait?’ Her dusky eyes examined him.

  Satisfied now, he was able to give a genuinely kind reply, his mouth only inches away from hers. ‘Of course not. Much as I want ye I’m sure I can hang on a few days longer. But I warn you, once we’re married I’m going to make up for lost time.’ He pretended to gnaw on her neck, making animal noises.

  Etta giggled and moulded herself to him. ‘Could we just shuffle over a little? It’s rather – is it meant to be so wet?’

  ‘Ach, sorry!’ He gave an awkward laugh and hauled her across the rumpled bed where they lay contentedly for a while, their lips occasionally touching, tasting, reiterating their love for each other, enjoying the closeness. Then, giving her a last rapturous kiss, Marty patted her, rolled off the bed, adjusted his clothing, and in a happy manner went to retrieve the paper bag he had discarded upon entry, coming back to hand it to her.

  Now discreetly covered, Etta sat up expectantly and, with dark hair all awry, peered into the bag. ‘What’s in here?’

  He threw himself on the bed again to watch lovingly. ‘Gingersnaps! While I was waiting down there I managed to cadge them from a pal at the station. Sorry, there’s no tray of tea to go with them, I daren’t risk that. Nor will there be anything else until tomorrow morning when I can maybe sneak something from the kitchen. I’ll fetch you some water, though, before I leave.’

  Handing him a biscuit and nibbling on one herself, she smiled contentedly, hardly taking her eyes off him all the time she ate, which precipitated another bout of kissing amidst the crumbs. But this could not continue forever. If Martin should lose his job how would he support them? So, reluctantly, they prepared to bid each other adieu.
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br />   Coming back to reality, Marty gave a muttered comment on the bed. ‘Good grief, look at the mess we’ve made o’ this.’ And he dragged off the counterpane. ‘Grab the other edge.’ Even as he said it he wondered if she might take umbrage at his order, but she seemed not to mind as she helped to turn it over.

  A long night ahead of her, Etta showed reluctance to let him go, hanging on to his coat sleeves in concern. ‘What if Father should arrive in your absence and drag me back – would you come after me?’

  He cupped her face and gazed into it, swearing solemnly, ‘Darlin’, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth. Well, at least as far as my poor old barking dogs will carry me.’ The joke about his sore feet was accompanied by a reassuring hug and a chuckle. ‘Ah, don’t fret now, with a bit o’ luck we’ll have you out of here before anyone notices. And now I must be gone too.’ After first sneaking off to fetch a jug of water for her, Marty finally took his leave. Clinging to him until the last second, Etta planted frantic kisses upon him, declaring she would go to bed early so as not to feel hungry and locking the door behind her beloved as he went home with a spring in his step.

  ‘I’m glad to see you looking happier,’ said his mother when he arrived, though there was more than a hint of suspicion in her eye.

  Inwardly laughing at her understatement, Marty dealt her a blithe shrug. ‘No point being miserable, Ma.’ And, with a happy ruffle of his little brother’s hair, he sat to partake of the family meal, his own being consumed in no time.

  Still eating, Agnes watched him shrewdly. ‘Would you be in a rush to go out by any chance?’

  ‘Ah no, I was just famished,’ he replied with an innocent, languorous gaze. ‘Tired too. I think it’ll be an early night tonight.’ He thought of poor Etta, alone and hungry, then turned to his father who was also still eating. ‘Da, would you mind very much if I get down and have a little look at the press before bed?’

  Granted permission, he went to sit on a more comfortable chair. It was fortunate that the ‘houses to let’ section was on the first page so that he would not appear to be hunting for something. Having opted for furnished lodgings as he possessed no furniture or artefacts of his own, he sat back to peruse, though it turned out to be an unsatisfying read. Most of the rents were beyond his pocket, for until he was safely wed he still had to pay his dues at home, not just to make things look normal but so as not to deprive his mother. Behind the newspaper, he machinated over how to boost his funds. What if he were to pawn something? In his wardrobe was a decent greatcoat which would be hanging redundant throughout the summer months, along with one or two other items of winter clothing. Maybe combined they would raise enough to secure a property, or at least rooms. His mother did not hold with pawnbrokers, opining that borrowing money was a slippery slope to get on to, not from any high-minded ideal but out of contempt for the interest rates they charged. Whenever his father was out of employment she would work doubly hard herself. Even in the usual course of her day she took on others’ laundry or mending, accepting anything rather than having to resort to money-lenders, so there would be no danger she might need the clothes for this purpose. The only difficulty would be in sneaking them out of the house. He cast his eye again over the column of vacancies, taking mental note of suitable addresses.