Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  He was confusing me – things did not seem so beautifully clear now. At last I said reluctantly, ‘I will then, Ben – but only for a few minutes.’

  For the first time he smiled at me. ‘That’s champion.’ He raised his voice, ‘Just show Lady Helena into the parlour, Mrs Greenhalgh.’

  As she ushered me in I heard the jingle of coins, and a ‘Giddup’ behind me. I turned quickly, ‘Oh Ben – I wanted the cab to wait!’

  ‘We can soon call another cab, Lady Helena – no point in keeping him hanging about now, was there?’

  I looked at him doubtfully, but he seemed very certain. ‘Only five minutes though, Ben.’

  He nodded. ‘Only five minutes.’

  Satisfied, I entered the small crowded parlour and sat down on the hard slippery sofa. A clock was ticking loudly, and the woman had vanished. I heard Ben’s voice outside, and a boy’s voice answering; there was the distinctive chink of coins followed by the clatter of clogs on the cobbles, and then Ben put his head round the door and said reassuringly, ‘Mrs Greenhalgh is just putting the kettle on.’ The door closed again and I sat listening to the tick of the cheap clock. Then the clogs came clattering back up the street and there was a rat-tat at the door and a breathless voice speaking to Ben. His footsteps went past into the kitchen and to my relief I heard the sound of a spoon on china; I had to be on my way as soon as possible.

  Ben brought the tea tray himself, with a cup ready filled. He handed it to me carefully and then sat down opposite on a straight-backed chair. The tea tasted very sweet and syrupy, and I felt rather sad that Ben had forgotten I did not take sugar – but No. 23 was a long time ago. I sipped it slowly at first as he sat watching me, but it was not very hot so I decided to swallow it down quickly – after all, I wanted to be on my way – but when I tried to replace the cup on the saucer the saucer moved – and it kept on moving until Ben jumped up and took it and the cup from me and went to the tea tray again. I tried to tell him I did not want another cup, but the words would not come out and my head was spinning and then Ben was kneeling on the floor in front of me holding the cup to my lips – I turned my head away but the cup turned with it and he made me drink, and when I swallowed the tea burnt my throat but I kept on swallowing because his face was very close to mine and his voice very loud in my ear as he ordered, ‘Drink up, lass, drink up.’

  So I drained the cup as he bid me, and then he moved aside and I saw that the shadows were coming towards me, dark with menace. I cried out, but no sound came; and they were coming closer and closer. I threw myself back against the hard sofa, but still the shadows came on – and now I saw there was to be no escape, so at last, helplessly, I surrendered myself to them, and guilt and sorrow overwhelmed me as I slipped away into the darkness.

  Chapter Six

  I opened my eyes and the ceiling was too low above me. My mouth was dry and my head was pounding so that I could only move it very slowly – and as I did so I saw a man sitting slumped in a chair, asleep. The chair was wedged across the doorway, so that I was trapped inside the small stuffy room. And as I looked at him I knew why he had trapped me here, and I hated him for what he had done – because now it was too late.

  The stocky figure blurred and in its place I saw Robbie’s thin body, shaking on his bed, and Robbie’s dark eyes gazing up at me as I bent over him with the needle in my hand – the needle which I had driven without faltering into his very flesh. My brother, oh my brother. I cried out in pain and guilt and the other man’s head jerked up and now it was Ben Holden’s blue eyes which watched me, warily.

  I pulled myself up, but as I moved my stomach churned and the bile rose in my throat and desperately I was lurching forward, my hand over my mouth. He kicked the chair aside and wrenched the door open and I ran through the dark kitchen and tiny scullery and out into the narrow yard. I looked frantically round until he pushed past me and flung back a door - I threw myself down on the hard stone and seized the cold white sides as the sickness took me over.

  At last my retching shuddered to a stop and I knelt panting with the smell of it all around me. He hauled me to my feet and held me up as he leant across to pull the chain, then he half-carried me back into the kitchen and lowered me into a chair. A cold damp flannel was pushed into my hands and I wiped my face, then dried it on the towel he offered. Neither of us had spoken a word.

  I sat huddled in the chair watching Ben Holden raise the lid of the range and poke the fire up before he put the kettle on it. I whispered, ‘Just tea this time, Ben.’ He turned and his smile was very gentle, ‘Aye lass, just tea.’

  The room was warm but I began to shiver. He saw me shaking and went to the door and took an old shawl from the peg behind it and brought it back to me. ‘Sit forward, lass.’ I bent forward obediently and let him wrap the shawl around my shoulders and pull it close across my chest and tuck the ends in securely. I clutched the woollen folds to me as he turned back to the kettle and began to make the tea. His calm, deliberate movements steadied me, and when he handed me the cup I took it from him and gulped down the scalding liquid, gratefully. There was no sugar in it this time. As soon as I had finished he refilled my cup, then sat down opposite me cradling his own mug in his large hands, waiting.

  I drew a long painful breath and said loudly, ‘I killed my brother, Ben. I killed Robbie.’

  He shook his head, his expression set. ‘No, lass, the Germans killed him. You only eased his passing.’

  I said, my voice still far too loud, ‘But it wasn’t a very easy passing.’

  ‘Easier, lass, easier.’

  I had no answer, and he fell silent again, yet I could see he was searching for words. At first, when he began to speak, I was bewildered by what he was saying, then I understood. ‘At Wipers, in ’17, we were next to Suffolks afore we went over – not that there were much to go over, by then – we just scrambled through mud. I got separated from company – most of them had gone by then, happen, I don’t know. Any road, I slipped down a shellhole for a bit of cover, and there were one of Suffolks there, with his insides all spilt out. I thought he were dead at first, but he weren’t – and when I leant over him I could see he’d only got half a face, t’other half were missing. But he were still alive, and looking right at me with his one eye. I knew what he wanted. So I put me hand over his face – what were left of his face – lifted me revolver and blew out rest of his brains. Then I climbed out th’ole again and went back to try and find me men – to keep them moving forward, see.’ He stopped, then went on, ‘I never told no one. I didn’t even think about it at time – there weren’t any time. But I thought about it a lot later, and, well, – I reckon he were grateful.’ Ben’s low voice ceased; in the dark kitchen his face looked like that of an old man.

  At last I whispered, ‘Thank you, Ben.’

  He pulled himself out of his chair, moving very heavily. ‘You’re welcome, lass.’ Then he straightened up square in front of me, and added, quite matter of fact, ‘You’d best get some sleep now, you must be worn out, what with being up all night as well. Mrs Greenhalgh had to go out – her elder lass has just had a new babby, up valley, and there’s another young ’un to see to – otherwise she’d have stayed. She lost her own lad in war, see. Now you come and lie down on sofa again.’

  I stood up stiffly, and felt the pressure of my bladder – I glanced towards the back door, my face flushing. Ben spoke quickly, ‘There’s soap and towel in scullery – I’ll go up for pillow.’

  The small closet still smelt faintly of vomit, and as soon as I had finished I reached for the jar of carbolic and shook a few drops down. Back in the scullery I washed my face and hands carefully at the single tap and dried them on the worn towel.

  The door of the little parlour was open, and Ben had drawn the curtains and arranged the sofa with pillows and blankets, just like a bed. My jacket had been hung neatly over the back of a chair and he said, without looking at me, ‘You can take your skirt off if you want – save it getting all crumpled –
I’ll go outside.’

  Slowly I undid the buttons of my skirt and slipped it down over my hips, then I crept in between the blankets and pulled them tightly round me. I felt desperately alone. Ben’s voice came from outside the door. ‘Have you got everything you want, Lady Helena?’

  Quickly I called back, ‘Ben, please – ’ His head came round the door; he looked very tired. But I was so frightened of being alone in the small, still room – alone with the dark threatening shadows, so I begged, ‘Ben – would you, would you stay with me, please?’ I could hear the panic in my voice.

  He did not hesitate. ‘Of course I will. Wait while I fetch me things – I’ll be right back.’

  He was very quick. I lay watching him as he moved about the room, pulling the bright rag rug into the centre of the floor and placing his pillow carefully at one end. He bent to take off his slippers and put them neatly inside the fender, then he rolled himself up in the grey blanket and lay down, facing the sideboard, with his back to me.

  ‘Goodnight, Lady Helena.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ben.’

  I only slept in snatches, waking again and again with my heart thudding and my chest tight. But I fixed my eyes on the brown head above the grey blanket, and forced myself to concentrate on the steady breathing of the man on the floor, until slowly my panic subsided and I dozed off again – until the next time.

  As I lay between sleep and waking I heard him moving about the room. Then he softly opened the door and slipped out – but I knew he was still in the house. I did not sleep again; I lay gazing up at the network of fine cracks on the plaster ceiling until I heard the front door pushed quickly open, and the thud of clogs in the passageway. A girl’s voice called out, ‘Ben –’ to be quickly shushed, and followed by the murmur of voices outside. Then there was a soft tap on the door panel.

  ‘Come in.’

  The door swung open and a girl came shyly into the room. She wore a shawl over a crumpled cotton working dress and there was a pair of dusty black clogs on her feet. Brown curls framed a round face that was rosy with health; her blue eyes were solemn as she came towards me. ‘How are you, my lady? Ben thought you might be awake – he’s only just come down himself – he’s been on the night shift. Mam sent me back from our Annie’s to start his tea and see how you were – she says she’ll be in later when she’s given our Wilf his meal – but he’s helpless like when Annie’s laid up – a proper man – still, he’s pleased with babby – a bonny little lass she is…’ She bubbled on while I slowly pulled myself up and began to look vaguely round for my skirt and jacket. The girl went quickly to the chair. ‘Here they are, miss – my lady – what lovely soft cloth, and all sewn so beautiful! Did you sew them yourself?’ She stopped suddenly, her pretty face very pink. ‘I’m not thinking – of course a lady like you wouldn’t make her own clothes – I’m sorry I spoke.’

  I said quickly, ‘Oh, I can sew but not well enough to tailor. I’m afraid I don’t know your name?’

  ‘I’m Emmie, Emmie Greenhalgh – you met our mam this morning. I was at mill, but it’s half day on Saturday so I slipped up to see the new babby…’

  Ben’s shout interrupted her. ‘I’ve brewed up, young Emmie.’ I reached quickly for my skirt.

  Emmie was still chattering as she led me through to the kitchen. Ben was wearing a waistcoat and jacket now. ‘Why Ben – you’re all dressed up today – he normally wears his braces round the house, my lady…’

  ‘Emmie, get that tea poured!’ Ben’s face was red as he broke in.

  Emmie picked up the tea pot, saying proudly, ‘I talk too much, our mam’s always telling me – like a babbling brook, our Emmie, she says.’ She pursed her lips in concentration as she carefully added the milk. Ben put his hand over the sugar bowl with a shake of his head and Emmie carried the cup to me. ‘Now sit down with this, my lady – it’ll make you feel better – there’s nothing like a nice cup of tea, mam always says.’

  ‘Thank you, Emmie.’

  I sipped the tea in silence, listening to Emmie’s soft voice extolling the virtues of her new niece. But when she had finished her tea she put her cup down and her face became serious as she said, ‘My lady, I were right sorry to hear about your brother. I know how you feel – when the telegram came to tell us our Joe had passed away I cried and cried – I couldn’t stop for a whole week.’ She paused a moment, then went on, ‘He were gassed, you see. But we had a lovely letter from the nurse, she said he died so quick and peaceful. “His last words were of his family,” she wrote, “then he laid back his head and fell asleep.” Did you nurse men who’d been gassed, my lady?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did.’

  ‘And did they all die quick and peaceful, like our Joe?’ I looked at the girl, remembering the big marquee, and my useless efforts to help men who were coughing their lives away in agony through all those endless days of dying. And after the last desperate wheezing gasp, when the contorted purple face had finally fallen back upon its pillow, then I too would reach for my pen that evening, and write. ‘I’m sure you will be relieved to know that your son – your husband – your brother – passed away quite peacefully…’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘yes, they all died quickly and peacefully.’ And Robbie’s voice rang in my ear: ‘God, Hellie, I’d have to stand and watch while the sergeant shovelled the pieces into a sandbag, then I’d sit down in the dug-out and write, “He died at once, just a clean shot through his chest – his face quite unmarked – he looked very peaceful.”’ Robbie, my brother, who had not died peacefully – but who at least had died more quickly than he might have done, because I – and I heard my voice sharp with bitterness saying, ‘Yes, Emmie, all soldiers die quickly you know – and if they don’t, why, we try to make sure –’

  But Ben Holden spoke loudly, drowning my angry words, ‘Emmie, lass – Lady Helena’ll be wanting a bit of a wash and brush up. Run upstairs and tidy the front bedroom, now – there’s a good girl.’

  After Emmie left us, I sat staring down at my trembling hands, ashamed now. At last I looked up, and saw that his face was drawn and tired – the face of the man who had filled the sandbags. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’

  He said heavily, ‘There’s no call to upset the lass – it’s best they believe what they do.’

  ‘Yes.’ We sat in silence until Emmie came running back down the stairs.

  Up in the small bedroom with its double bed neat under a snowy white counterpane I stripped and washed myself from head to foot, and then pulled my black clothes on again and went slowly downstairs. Emmie’s chatter broke off as she saw me come in, and she put her arm round my waist and led me to the rocking chair. Her plump dimpled hand squeezed my shoulder in silent sympathy.

  Ben cleared his throat. ‘Lady Helena, I’m due on again this evening, so I were wondering – I thought I’d best see you safely back, first.’

  ‘Back?’

  ‘Back home – to Hatton.’

  I stared at him, and began to shake. ‘No – I can’t – I can’t go back’ – back to where Robbie’s body lay waiting – waiting in its coffin, waiting for me. ‘No, no…’ Emmie put her arm round my shoulders and pressed me to her. ‘You can stay here, as long as you want. You’ve upset her, Ben Holden, going on like that!’

  ‘But Emmie –’

  ‘I’ll sleep in chair – she can have my place – but no, there’s Mam. Why, that’s what we’ll do – you can have Ben’s bed, my lady – I’ll put clean sheets on it for you. He’ll not be back while morning. There, I’ll ask Mam when she gets in, she’ll understand.’

  I subsided into a frightened huddle in the chair as Ben said doubtfully, ‘But, her family – they’ll not know where she is…’

  ‘Then you can telephone, Ben, and tell them.’ Emmie’s voice was triumphant. ‘A grand house like that’ll have a ’phone – won’t it, my lady?’ I nodded. ‘That’s settled then – and there’s Mam’s step at door – I’ll ask her now.’

  It was soon settled – I would stay i
n Ainsclough that night. I murmured my gratitude as Mrs Greenhalgh took clean linen from the cupboard beside the range and sent Emmie upstairs with it. Then she lifted saucepan lids, peered into the oven, gave a ‘hm’ of satisfaction and told Ben to take me down to the post office.

  I followed him along the street in a daze. He called the operator for me, pushed in eight pennies then stood to one side so that I could give the exchange and number. But when Cooper answered I could barely speak at first, and only just managed to whisper, ‘May I speak to Lady Violet, Cooper?’

  ‘My lady’ – even over the line I could hear the anxiety in his voice – ‘I’ll fetch her at once, my lady.’

  Letty’s voice came loud and clear: ‘Helena! Where are you? You left no message – Mother’s furious – and Dr Craig’s called twice already asking for you and he’s insisted he’s coming back again this evening – that made Mother even more annoyed. So where on earth are you?’ I felt sick and giddy; there was a long pause before I managed to get out, ‘Ainsclough. I’m in Ainsclough.’

  ‘Ainsclough! Whatever are you doing there?’ Letty’s voice shrieked over the line; Ben, standing close behind me, shielding me from the shop, must have heard every word. My sister spoke forcefully: ‘Well, when are you coming back? The funeral’s arranged for Monday – two o’clock.’ I began to tremble; I could not answer. ‘Hellie? Are you there?’

  Ben reached over my shoulder and took the earpiece from my shaking hand, then he nudged me gently aside so that he could speak directly to my sister. ‘Look, my lady, she’s staying in Ainsclough over weekend, but tell your ma she’ll be back in time for funeral.’ Letty’s voice squeaked in protest but Ben ignored it. ‘I said she’ll be back in time, that’s all – oh, and you’d best tell that doctor she’s quite safe.’ He slammed the phone back on the hook. ‘Not that he deserves it.’