by Annie Murray
He had not insisted so far. She had tried to emphasize her own strict respectability.
‘Coming round on a Sunday for tea with all the children is one thing, dear, but if you start coming over in the evening, the neighbours will talk – you’ve no idea what a collection of gossips we’ve got in Lilac Street – some of the worst anywhere, I think.’ She made light of it, but it was enough.
‘Oh, of course,’ he said in his decent way. ‘The last thing I want is to cause you any trouble. But is it really so shameful, since you’re a widow, alone?’
Rose put her head archly on one side, before realizing that this gesture was wasted on him. ‘There’s Lily to consider as well. She’s had so many changes – her father’s death, moving here, and now you arriving in her life. Perhaps we should take things slowly, dear?’
And Arthur, being the honest, trusting darling he was, had readily agreed, even though she could feel his impatience, his need to be loved and to be with her. And despite the lies, the awfulness of it was that she loved him back and wanted him, in a way that she had never wanted a man before.
‘But whatever am I going to do?’ she cried, silently, in her head, day after day, never finding an answer that was both happy and true.
She had agreed that Arthur could visit on some Saturdays as well, so long as she was sure that Harry would be out. Both mornings of last weekend, she had been in a fever of nervous excitement. It was a revelation to her. Even when she first met Harry, she had never really experienced the feeling of true attraction. She had been so desperate for a new life, she had imagined that a few jokes and promises were all it took to make a proposal of marriage something she could gladly answer.
In her marriage to Harry, their physical relations had never been good. Rose understood now that she had never truly desired Harry. In reality, she had found him rough and unsympathetic. Adding that to her dread of childbirth had meant they never had a successful marriage. He had resented her from the beginning and in a way she did not blame him.
But now she was gripped by desire. It had taken her over, body, mind, soul, a gnawing hunger that would never leave her alone. During the long week, when she didn’t see Arthur, the hours stretched out unbearably. For the first time she experienced physical desire, the aching, longing force of it, and she hardly knew how to contain it.
Now, when she and Arthur were together, it felt frustrating that there were always the children there. Sitting talking with Arthur was sheer pleasure, but a tension of longing had fast grown between them, a need to hold and touch each other, so that by the time he left, after snatched embraces in the back room, Rose was quite edgy and wrung out with it.
‘Perhaps you could come to my place one day?’ he whispered, that last time as he held her. He took a deep, emotional breath. ‘God, I just long to be with you alone.’
She looked deeply into his face and felt he was looking back at her, even though he could see nothing.
‘What about your landlady?’
‘Well – she’s not a bad sort, really. But if you came it might be better if we slipped in without advertising the fact. To start with, anyway.’
Oh, she thought, the idea of being alone in a room with Arthur, just him!
‘What am I going to do with Lily though?’
Arthur shrugged. He was very good, she thought appreciatively. He never complained about Lily or tried to make things difficult and she said so.
‘Listen –’ He squeezed her shoulders to emphasize what he was saying. ‘Have you any idea what it means to me to have found you? And Lily too? I’ve been so gloomy these last years, assuming that I’d spend the rest of my life alone. What woman would want a blind man – let alone a blind husband? And then I meet you and you’re so kind and lovely. I still can hardly take it in. After that, everything is a bonus!’
She hugged him back. ‘Oh, Arthur – I do love you.’
‘That’s not to say,’ he whispered close to her ear, ‘that I wouldn’t absolutely love to be alone with you. But we have to be careful with each other and what we already have in our lives.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Don’t ever think I’m discontented. I’m full of wonder!’
Rose was almost counting the hours until she next saw him. Every day she kept having to drag her mind back to the jobs that needed doing, the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and Lily. She had gone over to the Greens’ as a welcome distraction from her burning thoughts. Was she becoming depraved, the way her mind was full of thoughts that no married woman should be having? Her desire for Arthur King was all consuming. She could sit or lie in bed for hours at a time, dreaming of him, his face, his body. Over and over again she imagined him naked, and her naked with him, her undressing him, touching him, their coming together in a loving union.
She was so full of desire, that one night, when Harry had made advances to her, she had responded to him almost gladly. All the way through she had pretended to herself that it was Arthur in whose arms she was lying, Arthur whose lips were fixed on hers, who thrust inside her, and she became more excited with Harry than she ever had before, though she felt like a traitor – to Arthur and Harry both.
Harry noticed, with approval. Instead of rolling off her and turning away to sleep straight away as he normally did, he lay beside her in the dark, on his side, resting his heavy hand on her belly.
‘That was nice, kid,’ he said. He seemed uncertain suddenly. ‘You’re my woman, ain’t yer?’ He laid his hand roughly on her head for a moment. ‘God, Rose, you’re summat, you are.’
Rose made a small noise which she hoped was enough of an answer. She lay in a state of wonder, washed in warmth and temporary, sated contentment, feeling their shared wetness between her legs. When had she ever felt like this before? She didn’t want Harry to speak, she wanted to carry on pretending that it was Arthur beside her and that they were going to fall asleep together.
‘I wish it were always like that,’ Harry said. And she certainly did not want to think about the fact that Harry had not withdrawn from her at the critical moment.
At least, she thought, she seemed to have done something right for him for once, even if he didn’t know it was all a lie. Then she forgot about him and once again, all her thoughts were of Arthur, Arthur her love.
Thirty-Three
‘Aggie dear!’
Rose stepped out of her house to waylay Aggie as she and the others were setting off for school, John running ahead, Ann and Silas trailing behind her. Aggie had the resigned, put-upon look of someone older than twelve years, but Rose was in far too much of a state about her own concerns to notice this.
Aggie stopped and Silas caught up with her and took her hand. The two of them stood looking up at Rose, Aggie with her clear blue eyes, Silas’s a heart-melting brown.
‘Just a quick word, dears,’ Rose said. Her hands were clammy with nerves. The idea had come to her as she was falling asleep last night and she jerked awake, her heart pounding, and had hardly slept the rest of the night. If only it worked, she and Arthur would be able to have time alone!
‘Aggie, Lily has been asking me if she might be able to come to the Sunday school with you. Would that be all right, d’you think?’
Aggie, eager to please, said, ‘Yes. She can come.’ Importantly, she added, ‘I can take her, if you like.’
‘Oh, good.’ Rose found she was actually trembling. ‘The thing is, Aggie, I need to go and see my sister on Sunday. She’s not well, poor thing. So if Lily could come along with you? And –’ Rose could hardly believe the way things were falling into place. And why not? She had done a lot for that child. What was the harm in asking her a favour? ‘Just in case I’m not back once you get home from the church, could Lily stop at yours – just for a bit?’
Aggie was nodding but Rose added, ‘You’d better just make sure it’s all right with your mother.’ But she knew it would be. Why would they refuse her?
Full of excitement, she knew she had one more thing to ask. She bent closer to Aggie. The chil
d’s breath smelt of stale bread.
‘Now – if you come and see me after school, I’ve got a little errand for you. You could earn twopence – how about that?’
‘All right,’ Aggie said, looking pleased. Silas was yanking on her hand, impatient to be off. Solemnly, she added, ‘I’ll see you later, Mrs Southgate.’
She could not tell Arthur the news, not directly. She had said that there might be a possibility of him being able to come round on Saturday. Once the football season ended, Harry would most likely go fishing both days. If she could see Arthur on Saturday, she could tell him about Sunday, when they would have more time and could be alone together!
She couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. That afternoon was when Muriel Wood came round to teach Lily the piano. Rose let her in, very pleased to see her, as she would take up all Lily’s attention for half an hour.
The day was warm and spring-like and Muriel arrived wearing her summer hat and smiling with her usual tired bravery.
‘Hello, dear,’ she said to Rose. She looked carefully at her once they were inside. ‘I must say, you do look well. Your cheeks are as rosy as your name today!’ She gave her little laugh.
‘Oh – thank you,’ Rose said. No wonder she looked well, she was in love and brimful of excitement, but she could hardly tell Muriel!
Lily came running in eagerly, calling, ‘Hello, Mrs Wood!’ and Rose told Muriel she would go and make tea while the piano lesson got started. Soon she was in the kitchen, hearing the sound of ‘Baa baa black sheep’ being picked out on the piano. While the kettle heated she sat quickly at the table and composed a note.
‘Dear Mr King,’ she wrote. ‘The arrangements for Saturday are quite satisfactory. I look forward to seeing you at three. Sincerely, Mrs Southgate.’
His landlady had to read him any correspondence, since there was seldom anyone else to do it. Rose hoped that this would sound impersonal and that Arthur would not find it too peculiar. She was playing up her preoccupation with respectability. What else could she do, even though she longed to write an impassioned note saying all she really felt?
The afternoon crawled by and it was all she could do to sit and drink tea with Muriel and hear her talk about Oliver and the church and the little concert she had been to, struggling to keep her frantic mind on the conversation.
‘Now, you remember the address in Oldfield Road?’ she instructed Aggie. ‘Just put it through the door and come back and tell me you’ve done it dear, all right? And Aggie . . .’ She gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘This is our secret. I don’t want anyone else knowing my business, so you make sure you keep all this to yourself – and there’ll be more errands you can run for me. We can pretend it’s part of your spying work, can’t we? Like Mata Hari?’
‘All right, Mrs Southgate,’ Aggie said, taking the note. She had had to tell Mrs Southgate about the spying after they took Lily to follow Mary Crewe. She felt a bit silly about it all now. But never mind – Mom would be pleased with the twopence.
‘Have you got a pocket?’ Rose asked anxiously.
Aggie pushed the note down into the pocket in her brown skirt. ‘All safe,’ she smiled.
‘Off you go then – there’s a good girl.’
By Saturday afternoon, Rose was in a terrible state of nerves.
The day dawned mild and sunny and Rose woke hopeful that it would be a fishing day. She even let Harry make love to her again, knowing that this would put him in a mellow mood. Her sense of control over things seemed to have deserted her. What if she fell pregnant, she thought, as Harry’s dark head moved over her, close to hers. But it was as if she was a slave to fate, on a current that she could not stop. Her life now was balanced on so many lies – would punishment be hers, somewhere, sometime? Would a baby put a stop to all of it, be her mark of fate? But somehow she could not grasp what might happen, so borne along was she by her feelings. She would do anything, anything at all to make sure that one day soon – perhaps tomorrow! – she could be alone with Arthur King and in his arms. It was as if she could imagine nothing else beyond her absolute yearning for him.
But once they were downstairs having breakfast, she said lightly, ‘It’s a lovely day. Are you off fishing?’
Harry looked up, seeming relaxed as she had hoped. ‘Nah – not today,’ he said. ‘I told our dad I’d go over and give him a hand with a couple of things.’ Rose’s heart rate picked up. At least he was going out, but would there be enough time for her to see Arthur, to make sure he had left again before Harry came back? Tension mounted in her to such an extent that she could hardly breathe.
Harry stood up. ‘Just going to get a paper.’ He was already halfway out of the back door when Lily piped up, ‘Is the man going to play the piano again?’
Rose gasped. She forced herself to say dreamily, ‘Umm? What, Lily? You mean the man in your story?’
The back door closed and her head whipped round. Harry was going down to the entry. He hadn’t heard – had he?
‘Lily?’ She could barely contain her fury. ‘What did I say about talking about the man and the piano? Those are two things we don’t mention – is that clear? Don’t ever say a word.’
‘Why?’ Lily’s face crumpled hearing her mother’s tone. Rose was angry with her so often these days. ‘The man’s nice.’
‘I know – but . . .’ What could she possibly say? She breathed deeply. ‘Your father’s not very good friends with Mr King, you see, Lily. And you know what he thinks about piano lessons. So – we don’t want to upset him, do we? It’s better if we just don’t say anything, all right?’
Lily nodded, looking tearful and glum.
‘Oh – come here!’ She beckoned Lily to her and sat her on her lap, trying to quell her fever of impatience. ‘Shall we have a story?’
Harry went out after dinner and from that instant Rose was praying for Arthur to arrive, not to be late. Three o’clock they had said. If only she had agreed on two o’clock! Lily was settled playing, so she took out the mats she was embroidering with flowers and butterflies.
Embroidery was yet another secret. Harry didn’t know she still did any. Any pieces she sold, she kept the money for things that she wanted to do. Rose’s pulse was racing hard and she jumped at the slightest sound.
If I go on like this I’ll give myself a bad heart, she thought, taking a deep, ragged breath. She imagined Arthur leaving his house, feeling his way along the street, coming closer and closer to her, knocking . . .
Three o’clock came and went.
‘Come now,’ she was saying over and over again in her mind. ‘Please, my darling, my love, don’t keep me waiting, come now, for God’s sake!’
At last, at almost ten past, there was a discreet knocking.
‘I wonder who that can be?’ she exclaimed, dashing to answer.
He smiled up at her, taking off his hat.
‘Oh!’ she breathed. ‘You’re here at last!’
‘Hello.’ He came in, more used to the house now and not needing her assistance, but she took his arm anyway, giving it a passionate squeeze.
‘I thought you’d never come,’ she whispered, before saying, ‘Look who’s here, Lily!’
‘Hello, young lady,’ Arthur said and Lily beamed.
‘Answer Mr King, Lily,’ Rose said. She had often repeated to her, ‘Remember Mr King can’t see you smile or nod, so try to say something instead.’
‘Hello, Mr King,’ Lily said obediently.
‘I’m so sorry, Arthur,’ Rose told him as they escaped into the kitchen, ‘but you won’t be able to stay long today. I’m afraid my sister in Kings Heath has been taken ill and I’m going to have to go over there quite soon. But . . .’ She lowered her voice and moved closer to him, putting her hands on his upper arms. Delighted, he returned her embrace and they pulled each other close, his lips reaching for hers. At last, she was where she longed to be!
‘Oh, my love,’ he murmured. ‘With you, finally!’ He held her tightly, passionately.
‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered, lips close to his ear. ‘I can come to you. In the afternoon. Alone.’
He listened attentively, his face solemn. ‘To me? Can you?’ Suddenly he sounded uncertain, as if he was afraid of wanting something that he couldn’t have.
‘I’d like to see your rooms,’ she said a little more loudly. ‘And Lily is going to Sunday school with Aggie . . .’ Lowering her voice again, she added, ‘Alone, at last. Oh, Arthur – we can be together for a while without all these other people.’
He lifted a hand and stroked her face. ‘Oh, my Rose. If you can come that would be . . .’
‘What about your landlady?’
‘If you tell me when you will arrive, exactly, I shall wait. She takes a nap on Sundays and in fact, she’s quite hard of hearing.’
‘I shall have to go soon today,’ she told him, trembling at the thought that Harry could come back at any time. ‘I really mustn’t delay. But I’ll be there tomorrow – at two-thirty, on the dot.’
Arthur smiled. ‘On the dot it is.’
Thirty-Four
He was waiting, just as he said he would be, behind the door, one in a long terrace of houses. She scarcely had to tap. He must have heard her step and the timid scrape of her fingers against the black paint. The door swung open and there he was, his face, his lovely self in the doorway.
‘Take my hand,’ he whispered, leading her to the stairs. ‘She’s right out at the back – there’s a sunny window she likes.’ Closer still to her ear, he said, ‘Where’s little Lily?’
‘Sunday school.’ Rose could have kissed Aggie, bless her, the poor grown-up little soul in her gigantic clothes! For a moment Lily had baulked at going with Aggie, had wanted Rose to go too. Aggie, holding May by one hand, held out her other to Lily in her good-natured way.
