by Nancy Carson
The power of the image was such that it brought her back to consciousness with a start. It was Henzey. Dear God, it was Henzey! How could he? How could he take advantage of a girl so young? It was too vivid to be a dream. She could touch him, smell him, feel his hot breath, hear his grunts and groans – hear her own daughter whimpering. It was too much to bear. It was far too much. Henzey had to be protected from that. They all had to be protected.
Lizzie sat up, her back erect. She looked at the old, black marble clock. It was almost half past eleven. How long had she been asleep? A good hour, it seemed. She was thirsty. She got up and opened the cellar door, seeking the bottle of home-made ginger beer Beccy Crump had given them yesterday. She poured herself a glass, and drank.
Somehow she felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It had only been a dream, but it was a dream she could not allow to happen in real life. It was a portent of the future. Beccy’s desperate suggestion had elicited a glimpse of what might be. There would be no emigration to Southern Rhodesia for them now, rebellion or no rebellion. Her mind was made up.
Lizzie felt the desperate need to talk to somebody. But Beccy would have been in bed ages ago, and she couldn’t wake Henzey without waking the others as well. She took her glass into the front room and parted the nets, peering out towards the dairy house, wondering if Jesse Clancey had come home yet. She could always talk to him. She saw the faint glow of an oil lamp still burning in the hall, which meant he hadn’t yet returned. She went back into the scullery and found her coat among the others lining the cellar door, and put it on. She would wait at the bottom of the entry for him. Besides, she needed the luxury of cold air on her face.
There was such a vibrancy about her now that she did not mind the cold. She sniffed the air and looked up into the sky. There were no stars tonight. The sky, lightened a shade by the street lamps from the distant towns, was a threatening charcoal grey, and the blackness of St. John’s tower in the middle distance stood against it like a monolith of coal. She felt a snowflake flutter against her cheek … and another. From the top of Cromwell Street she heard footsteps, then the vague, dark figure of a tall man. It was Jesse. She felt her heart start beating faster the closer he got. Just as he turned into his wide entry she called him in a hoarse whisper. At once he stopped, and Lizzie stepped out of her entry into the paler darkness of the street.
‘Lizzie?’ He walked straight over to her. ‘Struth, you frightened me to death. What’s up?’
‘Oh, Jesse, can I talk to you? I need to talk to somebody.’
‘’Course you can talk to me. Whatever’s the matter?’
‘Come inside. It’s cold out here.’
She turned, and he followed her through the entry. Back in her scullery she shivered. The fire was dying down, so she poked it and fed it a bundle of dried wood from the hearth. From sheer habit she lifted the half-full kettle onto a gale hook to boil, then sat down at the table, inviting Jesse to do the same.
‘Come on, tell me what’s up, Lizzie?’
She hesitated, wondering how to begin. ‘I need your advice,’ she said at last.
‘If I can give it I’ll be glad to.’
‘But I need to talk, as well. I do need to talk, Jesse.’
So she told him how Stanley’s persuasive words had tempted them all. How she’d finally, against her better judgement, agreed to go to Southern Rhodesia to join him; to live with him, with the half promise of marriage.
‘All in all it seemed we’d be better off there in the sunshine,’ she said, ‘protected by all his money – better off than living here in poverty, always struggling to make ends meet. So just before he left to go back I told him, yes, we’d go. I’ve had to arrange all sorts of papers, passports, and everything. I really got into the spirit of it all, looking forward to a brand new life. I’ve thought about little else since.
‘But even then, Jesse, I started to get doubts. I’ve known Stanley all my life, and you know as well as I do that he’s been a devil in his time. I started making excuses to myself that he was older now, so he’d be wiser … That he’d settled down … Not so keen to chase other women.’
Jesse rolled his eyes in disbelief.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘they say a leopard never changes its spots. I realise now that Stanley’ll never change his.’
‘What made you realise that, Lizzie?’
‘Believe it or not, it was the way he looked at our Henzey last Christmas Eve. She’d just got herself ready to go out, and I must be honest, she looked a real bobbydazzler – a lot older than her years, at any rate. Well, Stanley couldn’t take his eyes off her, and I could read exactly what was on his mind. The last thing I want, Jesse, is to put us all in a situation where we’re beholden to Stanley, so that he thinks he can do as he likes with my daughters, when my back’s turned.’
‘Lizzie, I had no idea you were planning to go to Southern Rhodesia. But if you want my advice – and that’s what you asked for – I think you’d be a fool.’
Lizzie waited, watching him, thinking how well he’d retained his looks and his demeanour, feeling a pang of jealousy that her estranged cousin Sylvia had been the one to finally win him. Jesse was the only other man she’d ever known, besides Ben, whom she knew she could trust without question.
‘Oh, God,’ he groaned, struggling with his conscience. ‘Lizzie, there’s something I know about Stanley, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy … But damn it, I’m going to tell you, ’cause I reckon as it wouldn’t hurt you to know. In fact, it might hurt you not to know.’
‘Oh, Lord. What is it?’
‘Well, you obviously don’t know … Stanley’s married, Lizzie. He’s been married years – to a South African woman – and he’s got a child by her. That’s why he wanted to get back there in the first place, Sylvia reckons. She believes that’s why he volunteered for secondment.’
Lizzie slumped back in her chair, but there was a smile on her face. ‘Well hang me … I oughtn’t to be surprised, had I? And Sylvia told you all this?’
‘Yes, Sylvia told me.’
‘But why were you sworn to secrecy?’
‘Because his mother and father never knew. He didn’t want ’em to know.’
‘But why ever not?’
‘Because her family didn’t approve. The shame of rejection. Only Sylvia knew.’
‘So, who did he marry?’
‘A wealthy colonial’s daughter. Somebody who looked down on him. Somebody who didn’t approve of the marriage in the first place. Somebody who evidently was potent enough to make sure she didn’t follow him here. They might even have bought him off, for all we know – paid him enough to bugger off.’
‘But d’you know whether he’s still married to her? I mean, he might be divorced, or she might be dead. He might have gone back there for his child. Anything could’ve happened.’
‘Well I agree, but d’you want to go all the way out there and take that chance?’
‘Oh, no. Not now I know that. That’s settled it altogether. Whether the kids like it or not we’re not going. God knows what trouble we might find ourselves in.’
‘You’ll never know how happy I am to hear you say that, Lizzie.’ He scratched the tablecloth nervously, pensively, with his forefinger.
‘Oh? Why should it make any difference to you now?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He smiled reflectively, leaning back.
‘Yes it does matter. Why should it make any difference to you?’ But she felt that she sensed his meaning.
He laughed, a self-conscious little laugh for a grown man.
‘Tell me, Jesse. Or do I have to drag it out of you?’
‘Oh, because of the way I feel about you – the way I’ve always felt about you.’
‘Jesse!’ She could hardly believe her ears. ‘Still? After all these years, you still reckon you feel the same for me as you did, what – sixteen, seventeen years ago?’
He sighed. ‘I know. After all these years,’
‘You ought to be ashamed, you getting married and all to Sylvia in a week or two.’
‘I know, I know. Daft ain’t it? I’ve watched you grow from a flighty young madam to a woman. I’ve watched you get married, to one of the nicest chaps imaginable, and never begrudged him you. I’ve watched your belly grow big and wished they were my babies you were carrying – five times, now, Lizzie, five times. I’ve watched your kids grow up, and I think the world of them, as well.’
‘Oh, Jesse, I don’t think you’d feel like that if you knew what I was really like – if you knew some of the things I was capable of doing – some of the things I’ve done in the past.’
‘I know a sight more than you might think, Lizzie. I’ve watched you wasting your time on Stanley Dando, if that’s what you mean – and that’s never made any difference.’
She felt herself blush. ‘What d’you mean, you’ve watched me wasting my time on Stanley Dando?’
‘I know that you were having a fling with him whenever he was home on leave.’
‘Oh,’ she said, unprotesting. There seemed little sense in denying it. ‘Well, I’m not very proud of that, Jesse. Not very proud of it at all.’
‘And yet you’ve been thinking about going to live with him in Rhodesia?’
‘Because there’s nothing else for us here. Particularly for my kids. We’re fed up to our back teeth living in poverty. It was an escape for us – an escape for me … Anyway, how could you possibly know about me and Stanley? Unless he told Sylvia, and she told you.’
‘Sylvia knows nothing. I’m certain of that.’
‘Well, thank God. So how d’you know?’
‘Because I saw you, Lizzie.’
‘Saw us? When?’
‘Oh, I’d gone to collect my milk money from Sylvia’s one Saturday before Christmas, and you were … you were lying on the hearth with him in the sitting room. Going the game, you were, the pair of you. Neither of you had got a stitch on. I never felt so devastated in all my life.’
‘Oh, Jesse! You mean you watched us? Through the window?’ There was no sense in trying to deny that, either. She blushed to her roots again.
‘No, I didn’t stop to watch. I couldn’t have watched, it upset me that much. I just turned round and went on my way as quick as I could.’
Lizzie was quiet for a few moments, weighing up the implications of all this, and all they could hear was the peaceful tick of the clock on the mantelpiece and the soughing of the kettle. So all along Jesse had known about Stanley and her. And he’d said nothing, silently, secretly grieving over what she was doing. If only she’d known. Jesse Clancey was the last person in the world she’d want to hurt, the kindest, most generous soul. Why had she not jumped at the chance to be his woman when he first confessed his feelings for her all those years ago? Things would have turned out so differently. At least she would still have a husband; one who cared for her, too, as much as Ben did. She would never have sought an affair with Stanley Dando, nor anybody else; there would have been no need. Her life would have been settled, stable, fulfilled. And they would have had children; different children of course, but they would have been loved just as much as the children she’d had by Ben.
Yet she could never regret marrying Ben. They had been so much in love, and he’d brought her so much happiness. Only later, when he’d been gassed and was invalided, was he so helpless, so useless, so visually repulsive. Only then did their world really begin to fall apart.
She looked up at Jesse, and their eyes met. It was time to be totally frank with him. She could confide anything in him. She wanted to tell him everything; to absolve herself of her past. If he still felt the same about her after that she would be surprised, but she would also be very happy; and inclined to take advantage of it, Sylvia or no Sylvia.
She said, ‘Then you very likely realise, Jesse, that the child I had nine months later was Stanley’s, not Ben’s.’
‘Oh, Lizzie.’ The sadness in his voice touched her. It was neither accusing nor judging, but compassionate, deeply concerned. ‘Give me your hand.’ Hers moved to meet his, and he held it reassuringly, and he recognised the warmth for him in her eyes. ‘Oh, Lizzie, my poor darling, I’d guessed as much. When Ben told me he was about to become a father again, it crossed me mind he was just protecting you.’
‘He was as good as gold about it, Jesse. I couldn’t have wished for more support than he gave me. And I certainly didn’t deserve it.’
‘But that was typical of him. He thought the world of you, Lizzie.’
‘I know, and I deceived him. When I first started seeing Stanley we used to meet at The Station Hotel of a Saturday afternoon. He’d book a room for the night, and I’d tell Ben I was going shopping.’ She gave a sad, little laugh as she recalled it, ridiculing it. ‘But it never fooled Ben, you know. He told me after, when it all come out into the open, that he used to wonder why, if I’d gone shopping, I never came back with anything. He knew all along. He was never fooled for a minute.’
‘So did it make any difference to your … you know … to your married life? … I’m sorry, Lizzie, I shouldn’t ask.’
‘But that was the trouble. We had no proper married life after he came back from the war. He was incapable. That’s why I sought it elsewhere … But he told me to, Jesse. I know it’s unbelievable, but he told me to.’
‘Huh! I wish that you’d come and sought me out, Lizzie. I dearly wish you had.’
Lizzie squeezed his hand. ‘Oh, I thought about it, believe me. But you could never have gone through with it. Your conscience would never have let you do the dirty across Ben. You’re too honest for that. And I admire you all the more for it. You’re not deceitful like Stanley Dando – or me. I’ve been a terrible person.’ She looked absently at the table. ‘Sylvia said I was a whore once. D’you remember?’
Jesse continued to stroke her hand. ‘Oh, I remember. But who takes any notice of Sylvia?’
She looked at him intently, pleased that she detected scorn for Sylvia. ‘Jesse, if you think like that why are you intending to marry her? You shouldn’t. It’d be wrong.’
‘I can see that now, talking to you. The truth is I always held out for you, Lizzie, but I started to realise I never had a chance. I’m getting no younger, and I reckoned it was about time I was wed. I suppose I’ve just gone along with the idea of marrying Sylvia, without really questioning it too seriously. Courting her now is no different to how it used to be, except now she’s got more about her, and a sight more to say for herself.’
‘Don’t do it, then. I should really hate to see our Sylvia get you. She’s too snotty. Thinks too much of herself.’
‘Well, I ain’t really content, Lizzie. At my age I ought to be content.’
‘If you’re not content, give her up. There’s no sense in prolonging the agony.’
Jesse chuckled. ‘I seem to recall having a conversation like this with you once before – a long time ago. Remember?’
‘But a lot of water’s passed under the bridge since then.’
‘And it has. And yet nothing’s changed, for all that. We’re right back where we started. Except this time I’m on the verge of getting married …’
‘Last time it was Ben, wasn’t it, Jesse? Ben was the reason we never really got together then.’ She smiled appealingly, looking straight into his eyes. ‘But this time, Jesse, I’ve got nobody …’
‘If you’ve decided not to go out to Stanley …’
‘I’ve definitely decided. I’m not going out to him.’
He squared his shoulders and breathed in deeply. ‘Lizzie, if I was to give Sylvia up now, d’you think there might be some sort of a chance for you and me? It’s always been you, you know. There’s only ever been you.’
Lizzie remained silent for a few seconds while his hand tightened around hers. He watched her intently, his heart pounding, as he awaited her answer. He saw tears of emotion well up in her eyes, and he silently prayed for her to say ‘yes’. Lizzie was wor
th ten Sylvias.
Chapter 23
So Jesse Clancey once more became a regular visitor to 48 Cromwell Street. Lizzie didn’t blatantly encourage him, but enjoyed his unforced attention and always made sure she looked her best. Since Ben’s death she’d had neither the means nor the inclination to make the most of herself, but with Henzey earning something, and Herbert on the brink of his full-time job, things were beginning to look up. Now, with Jesse’s rekindled interest in her, there was somebody worthwhile to trouble herself over. Even after five pregnancies she was only six pounds heavier than the day she got married, according to the weighing machine in Boots in the Market Place.
