by Nancy Carson
‘Lemonade if you’ve got it,’ Albert requested defiantly.
‘Oh, have a beer, you miserable old sod – God forgive me for me language,’ Beccy said, casting her eyes upwards. ‘It’s New Year, Albert. Yo’ can’t not have a drink.’
‘Give me a shandy, then, Joe. Anything to save me being nagged to death.’
Sylvia and Jesse arrived. They greeted everyone pleasantly and Jesse gave Lizzie a wink that she thought no more of, but which suggested lots to Ben. Lizzie smiled and introduced her friends. By now the house was crowded and buzzing with chatter and not all the guests had arrived yet. Somebody called for Joe to play his new piano – his pride and joy – and he said he would in a minute.
‘Jesse, fetch your mother to come and play this new piano of Joe’s,’ Albert Crump tactlessly called, his half pint of shandy barely touched. ‘We can’t wait forever for him here.’
Ezme and Jack of course had not been invited; Joe knew how much the woman antagonised his mother. Meanwhile, Daisy and Jimmy had got their heads together and Sylvia and Jesse had moved on.
Ben took a close look at the gold cross and chain Lizzie was wearing, fingering it gently. ‘A Christmas present?’
‘Off Joe and May.’
‘I had a pair of cufflinks – off Fern. Here, look, I’m wearing them.’ He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket.
‘Did she give them to you before or after you fell out?’
‘Before, else I wouldn’t have took them, would I? I did offer them back.’
‘What did you fall out about?’ She’d been dying to ask.
‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’
‘Oh, go on.’ Her eyes flashed with anticipation. ‘Tell me.’
He emptied his glass and threw the end of his cigarette into the fire. ‘It was over you.’
‘Me?’
‘She kept on as I fancied you and accused me of seeing you on our nights off. We had a blazing row and in the finish I said I might as well play the part I’d been cast in.’ He smiled at her expectantly. ‘I’ll get another drink, like Joe said. Shall I get you one, Lizzie?’
‘Please. I’ll come with you, if you like.’
To get out of the smoke-filled room through the middle door into the scullery they had to push past Tom Dando, laughing at Beccy Crump’s irreverent cursing. Eve was in the scullery sitting at the table, as if guarding the beer, still wearing her white apron over her best black frock. She was talking to Sarah, with Sylvia and Jesse standing by.
‘’Scuse me,’ Ben said, sidling into position past him to get to the beer barrel.
‘Oh, Lizzie, I forgot to mention … our Stanley’s coming home in May or June,’ Sylvia said casually, looking Ben up and down with evident approval.
Lizzie considered that Sylvia’s comment was unnecessarily mischievous in the circumstances and she felt her colour rise. ‘Well, give him my best wishes, ’cause I don’t suppose I’ll see him. I think he was avoiding me before he went away.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, Lizzie. He’s got no reason to avoid you. You two were always the best of friends.’
Lizzie was aware of Jesse’s eyes burning into her, which was unsettling. She passed her glass to Ben and he filled it from the large stone bottle of lemonade, and handed it back. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said with a smile, then sipped her drink.
Sylvia said, ‘Joe and May must be doing well to get the house in such fine order … And to have so many lovely things about them. Especially the new piano … And they’ve only been married a year, Jesse.’
‘I know,’ Jesse replied with indifference.
Lizzie was certain that the next thing to come from Sylvia’s lips would be her own expectations of life when she married. In anticipation, Lizzie glanced at Jesse and reckoned he was thinking the same.
‘With the pair of ’em workin’ they can do it,’ Aunt Sarah chimed. ‘There’s no reason why you and Jesse shouldn’t do the same when you’m wed.’
‘I’ll wait till I’m asked, Mother,’ Sylvia replied stiffly. ‘And perhaps you shouldn’t presume anything till I have been.’ She flashed a withering look at Jesse.
Jesse coughed, shuffled his feet and ran his hand across his moustache with unease. He avoided Sylvia’s glance, swigging the last drops of beer from his glass. Lizzie sensed the tension between them. This was obviously a sticking point; a matter of contention they’d touched on before, but not yet resolved.
Lizzie had no desire to witness an open argument on the subject when she already knew Jesse’s feelings. Maybe it was time she made herself scarce. The last thing she wanted was to have to take sides. ‘It’s so smoky in here,’ she exclaimed. ‘I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air.’
Ben put his glass of beer on the table, glad of the opportunity to accompany her.
But Jesse sensed his intention. ‘Here, Ben. Fill this glass for me, will you. You’re nearer the barrel than I am.’
Obligingly, Ben took the glass and began to fill it.
It bothered Jesse to witness what he believed was Lizzie’s attempt to entice Ben outside. But his own hands were tied. He could do nothing with Sylvia at his side. He could do nothing without revealing his true desires and, in any case, he had more respect for Sylvia’s feelings than to do so openly. But since there was this unexpected competition he ought to do something to combat Ben’s apparent claim and stake his own at last, because he’d been unable to erase this slip of a girl from his thoughts. It was time to tell her how he felt. Perhaps it was even too late.
‘I could do with using the privy,’ Jesse remarked, in an attempt to slip his leash, and moved to follow Lizzie.
‘It’s the top of the yard, Jesse,’ May said. ‘Past Jack Hardwick’s pig-sty. Take an oil-lamp with you.’
‘It’s all right, May, I’ll find my way.’ He barged past Sylvia, opened the door and went out.
‘Well mind you don’t mistake the pig sty for it and piddle on the pigs. It’ll chap their skins vile this weather.’
He closed the door behind him. He had beaten Ben outside, but he could hear the others chuckling at May’s remark. Why did she have to say anything at all? It only drew attention to him. Now he felt even more conspicuous having left at such a sensitive moment. He hoped his real intentions did not look obvious. But he’d acted on a split second impulse, less inhibited because of the alcohol, driven by this urgent need to tell Lizzie how he felt before his rival established himself; and to hell now with the consequences.
The moon was surrounded by a broad, silver halo of air frost. It shone over the back of the brewhouse, lighting the yard up more brightly than any oil-lamp could. The frost on the roofs of Grove Street beyond reflected it back through a million tiny, shimmering crystals. There was no sign of Lizzie, so he stepped down the entry and into the street. He scanned left and right and saw her slender figure silhouetted against the gas lamp opposite the brass foundry, her hands behind her back, her head down. When she heard his footsteps she turned towards him, smiling radiantly, believing it to be Ben.
‘Lizzie. I’ve got to talk to you.’
‘Jesse!’
From The Sailor’s Return they could already hear singing. They watched a middle-aged man, walking from the opposite direction, open the door to the pub and enter. Jesse turned and looked over his shoulder to ensure neither Sylvia nor Ben had followed.
‘Look, Lizzie, I’ve got to talk to you.’
‘To me? What about?’
‘About Sylvia. I’m not in love with her.’
‘You as good as said so before. Ages ago.’ She turned to see if Ben was seeking her yet.
‘I know I did. Trouble is, I believe she thinks a lot of me.’
‘She does. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ll ever find anybody better.’
‘Well that depends, Lizzie. One person’s idea of perfection ain’t necessarily another’s … Here, let’s move away from the lamp. I feel as if the world’s watching.’
They
moved a few yards further on to where the terrace was staggered and the recess would conceal them from view. But Lizzie was reluctant in case Ben couldn’t find her. She shivered. The bitterly cold night air seemed to penetrate through to her bones, and the gold studs in her ears were so cold that they made her lobes hurt. She wished she’d thought to put on her coat. At least she would be able to turn the collar up.
‘Well, it isn’t really fair to let her keep thinking I’m in love with her, is it?’
‘I agree. Doesn’t she know yet how you really feel?’
‘Well, yes and no, Lizzie. We’ve talked about marriage, and I’ve told her I’m not ready for it yet. But I did tell her once as I loved her, that’s the trouble. That was in the beginning, and to tell the truth I believed it myself at the time. Not now, though. It was a mistake to say it and I admit it. But how could I tell her after that it was a lie?’
‘But she’ll have to know sooner or later,’ Lizzie said and shivered.
‘I know that, Lizzie … Sooner, I reckon … You see, there’s somebody else.’
‘Oh, Jesse. You mean you’re going with somebody besides Sylvia?’
‘No, no. I mean there’s somebody else I want. Somebody else I’m in love with. I’m not seeing her … yet.’
‘Oh. So are you giving Sylvia up then, for this other girl?’
‘Well that’s my intention. If it all works out.’
‘It’ll break her heart, you know, Jesse.’
Lizzie was surprised at the ease with which she was talking with him. Throughout her life till this minute she’d never spoken more than a dozen words at a time to him. The obvious differences in age and gender, and their mothers’ senseless feud, had always conspired to create this unfortunate forbiddance, in her mind at any rate. But already she was engrossed in his personal life, pleased that he should consider her worldly enough to confess to. Whatever advice he asked for she would give it, impartially, and gladly. He was out of her own emotional reach now, anyway.
The sound of Joe now playing his new piano drifted out, and the accompanying singing drowned the revelry from The Sailor’s Return. Lizzie’s teeth began to chatter.
Jesse sighed with desperation. ‘Lizzie, I can’t go on as I have been – denying myself to spare Sylvia’s feelings. I swear, you’ll never believe just how hard it’s been. I’ve got this … this longing for this girl and it’s driving me mad.’
Lizzie thought how sad and intense his face looked in the half-light. She saw his eyes fill up, and his sincerity moved her. She began to understand the agony he was going through. ‘Does she know, Jesse?’ she asked intently. ‘Does this other girl know you feel like this?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve never had the courage to tell her. I’ve always been afeared she’d turn me down.’
‘Then it’s time you said something. If you don’t, how will you ever know whether you’ve got a chance? … So who is she? If you want to tell me, that is.’
He bent down and picked up a stone, then immediately tossed it back into the horse road as he fought with his indecision. He had to tell Lizzie; he had to confess his love; and it had to be now, or the moment would be lost forever.
‘It’s you, Lizzie,’ he said, turning to look into her eyes for her reaction. ‘It’s you. Nobody else. You’re the one I want.’
Lizzie mentally gasped, not knowing what to say. Strangely she could feel the cold no more; rather, she felt hot. It was very flattering, but this was attention she could have done without. It was attention she had not sought, even though she had secretly desired it. It instantly evoked all sorts of images in her mind, some logical, some outlandish; images she would never have dreamed of two minutes ago; images of Jesse caressing her; of Sylvia heartbroken and fraught with distress; of her own mother chiding her because of the inevitable battle over who would make the best wedding dress; of Aunt Sarah chasing her with a big stick and calling her a scarlet woman.
But what could she say? If things had been different he might even now be courting her, and Ben would never even have entered the frame. But with Sylvia so in love with him it would complicate things too much; her conscience would not allow it. Even though she liked Jesse well enough.
But now there was Ben to consider. She had set her heart on Ben and she was as driven to him as the birds in the trees were driven to build nests and lay eggs. Nobody else would do. Not now.
Jesse seemed to sense her dilemma. ‘Before you say anything, Lizzie, I want you to understand that I realise there’s a big difference in our ages – I know you’re only young. I’ve thought about that – but I don’t think it matters much. If it doesn’t matter to you, it certainly doesn’t matter to me.’
Lizzie gulped. This news had come as a great shock, and Jesse had no idea how much of a shock. Already he was going too fast.
‘I don’t know what to say, Jesse. I’m that flattered. Really I am … to think as you see me like that. But I couldn’t be responsible for breaking our Sylvia’s heart. And surely you couldn’t expect me to? I could never live with myself if I had that on my conscience.’
‘I think I realise that. But at least I’ve come out into the open with it. I had to. It’s been driving me mad.’
‘But I couldn’t be what you want me to be without hurting our Sylvia.’
He turned away and shrugged his shoulders, and she heard his deep, heart-felt sigh. ‘So what d’you reckon I should do, Lizzie? Carry on and marry her? Even though I don’t love her? Should I sacrifice myself for the sake of her feelings? Should I ruin my own life so as not spoil hers?’
The biting cold seized her again. She put her hands to her shoulders, huddling herself to generate some warmth. She ought to go back indoors now – back to Ben, and all the fun; back to where all the laughter was; back to the warmth of the roaring fire. Ben would wonder what had happened to her. Any minute now he was bound to come looking. If he saw her with Jesse he would jump to the wrong conclusion, and that would be the end of that – another romance finished before it even started.
But it was not easy to turn her back on such potent admiration, when she had admired Jesse so much.
‘No, I don’t think you should wed Sylvia just because she expects it, Jesse. That’d be stupid. I think a couple should both want the same, otherwise there’s no point in them marrying. You’ll just have to tell her.’
‘But what about you, Lizzie? Would you consider taking me after I’d given up Sylvia? After a respectable time, I mean. After a month or so. I can wait. Then they could lay no blame on you.’
She avoided his eyes as the magnitude of his design struck her. ‘I hardly know you, Jesse. And even if I said yes, I should still know deep inside as it was me that caused our Sylvia to suffer. And what would her family think of me when they got to know that I’d taken her place?’
‘Maybe you worry too much about what other folk might say, Lizzie. That’s the trouble with everybody these days. It’s always what everybody else might think as dictates what anybody does. Look, Lizzie, I’m in love with you … And I don’t think you dislike me either …’
She didn’t answer. She thought better of encouraging him; of confessing that she’d always held a sneaking desire for him. He was presentable and decent. He was devastatingly handsome, his family were prosperous and his prospects were significantly better than most men’s. Of course she liked him. She had drooled over him. What girl wouldn’t?
He said, ‘D’you want to think about it? I imagine it’s come as a bit of a surprise.’
‘Oh it’s come as a surprise all right, but what’s the point thinking about it? I do like you, Jesse. I’ve always liked you. If only you knew! But Sylvia makes it impossible.’
‘So if I’d asked you to start courting afore I asked Sylvia, would you have said yes?’
‘Yes.’ She shivered again. ‘Of course I would … Gladly.’
He smiled ruefully at the wicked irony of it. ‘And I wouldn’t ask you ’cause I thought you were too young and your m
other might not like it.’
‘I suppose she’d have got used to it. But I don’t think yours would have liked it. I don’t think your mother’s particularly fond of me, or my mother … I hear she thinks a lot of Sylvia, though.’
‘What my old lady thinks is neither here nor there. I’ve got my own life to lead.’
‘I’m sorry, Jesse. I am really. But in any case I’ve started seeing Ben now. It wouldn’t be fair on him, would it?’ It was an exaggeration of the truth, but in her desire now to extricate herself honourably, and without hurting his fragile feelings too much, she felt justified in saying it. And Jesse could not prove otherwise.
He shrugged, having to accept what she said. Yet somehow he felt better. The knowledge that he could have had her if he’d asked, and the relief of finally confessing the feelings he’d been bottling up for months, somehow lifted him. There might still be a chance.
Suddenly he reached for her, and his arms embraced her, clutching her to him. At once the heat from his body started to penetrate her own clothes, bringing warm relief from the biting cold, enough to keep her there for a second or two longer. She looked up at him with clear, shining eyes, half admonishing for his audacity, half grateful for those few moments of protective warmth when she needed it. But as soon as he saw her face upturned, his lips were on hers, urgently tasting her, savouring their accommodating softness, fulfilling a longing he’d harboured for so long. She allowed him to linger, not knowing whether to resist or to wring as much enjoyment from it as she could. But the immediate pleasure of his kiss outweighed her inclination to resist. She felt him growing in confidence at her unwitting responsiveness, tensing his grip around her waist with a passionate squeeze. She had often wondered how his lips, his big moustache, would feel if ever he kissed her. Now she knew. It was a rewarding experience. Her own arms went inside his jacket, to his waistcoat and around his waist, as if they had been long time lovers. It felt so warm in there and she was so cold. And his kisses were so gentle, so comfortable, so delectable.
‘Say you’ll be mine, Lizzie. I need you. Say you’ll be mine.’
