Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  Behind today’s words of hope: ‘It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other…’ – the echo sounded louder: ‘For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain…’

  The command rang out: ‘Let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.’ ‘Hold his peace’ – as I had held my peace: ‘I became dumb, and opened not my mouth.’ But my silence had brought me no peace. And now even the words of the marriage service accused me: ‘…ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed…’, and the menacing reminder came: ‘Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee: and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.’ I would never escape from my sin.

  But then he spoke directly to the man at my side: ‘Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, as long as ye both shall live?’ And the strong voice replying ‘I will’ – drove the fearful echoes a little away from me.

  But when the priest turned and asked of me: ‘Wilt thou have this Man…’ his voice was drowned by the returning shadows and I trembled to the words in my head: ‘Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery…’ ‘So long as ye both shall live?’ ‘In the midst of life we are in death.’ And my heart was heavy in the silence that grew and deepened, until I felt the man stir beside me, and his warm flesh touched my icy hand and brought me back to life, so that at last I whispered, ‘I will.’

  Hand linking hand we repeated our vows, then he put his ring on my finger and held my hand firmly in his as he spoke: ‘With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’

  His arm supported me as we walked from the church into the vestry, and I took the pen from his hand and signed my name for the last time. I stood looking down at the register for a moment and there, in the last column, was written for my father: ‘Peer of the Realm’ and above, for his, the one word: ‘Labourer’. But we were man and wife, now.

  Letty pulled back my veil, Ben’s lips met mine and others kissed my cheek. My husband held out his arm. ‘Ready now, lass?’ I dipped my head in answer and he led me back into the church. The opening chords of the wedding march crashed out and we began our slow walk back down the aisle, together.

  But the sunlight outside dazzled me and I stopped, and my eyes turned as they always did to that white marble stone high up in the graveyard. My heart lurched in my breast and I wrenched myself free of him and ran towards the graves and began to clamber between them. My thin satin shoes slipped on the green turf, and my train caught behind me – but I stumbled on. At last I reached the familiar grave, and bent and placed my bouquet in front of the white stone.

  ‘They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided.’ My brothers, oh my brothers. I fell to my knees on the damp grass and wept.

  Ben and Ralph Dutton pulled me up from the ground, and I crouched between them, racked with sobs, looking down at my white bridal lilies lying on the bare brown earth at my feet. ‘Easy now, lass, easy.’ Ben held me tight against his side or I would have fallen. As my sobbing slowed he swung me round, and began to guide me down to the path where the guests stood whispering in small huddles. I did not look at them as Ben led me past. There was a ragged uncertain cheer from the crowd of villagers waiting outside the lych gate, then they drew back in silence – and I sensed their compassion.

  Ben had almost to lift me into the car, then we set off under the green flickering arch of leaves, back to Hatton. His warm hand reached out and took my cold one, but he said nothing.

  Norah was waiting for me in the marble-pillared hall, just as she had promised. She took my arm and led me along into the small cloakroom off the family entrance. ‘Sit down, my lady.’ Cold water splashed my cheeks and cool pads covered my eyes while her hands deftly arranged my hair and veil. ‘There, my lady.’ Very slowly I forced myself to my feet, and clutched the chair as I swayed – the pain was getting worse now. ‘Do you need more tablets, my lady?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ve had too many already, thank you, Norah.’ She gave a small sympathetic smile and ushered me out.

  Ben stood waiting, a carved image, in the high light hall. My parents and Letty had arrived back. My mother looked towards me – and for a moment I thought I saw compassion in her eyes – then she was marshalling us all into position.

  The guests came in a steady stream, one close behind the other; Ben shook their hands and I offered my cold cheek. The effort to stay upright and force myself to smile was so great by now that their faces merged into a blur as their lips mouthed the conventional, inappropriate platitudes. Lady Maud’s ginger hair wavered before my eyes, and I heard Juno’s ringing voice as she shook Ben vigorously by the hand. ‘We meet again, Sergeant – but perhaps you don’t remember the YMCA canteen at Étaples, when you were going back up the line.’

  ‘I remember,’ Ben replied, ‘you brewed a fair cup of tea.’

  Juno threw back her head and her familiar laugh brayed out. ‘Well, you chaps went up and sorted out those Huns for us, thank God.’ She gave way to Pansy’s mother who folded me to her soft, violet-scented bosom; I saw the tears in her eyes.

  The wedding breakfast passed in a haze of pain and distress: the colours and voices confused my eyes and ears. My plates sat untouched in front of me – Ben glanced at them once or twice but I whispered, ‘Please…’ and he let them go back as they were. I managed to stand unaided to cut the cake, but my legs were trembling as I sat down again. Speeches were made: Ralph’s carefully witty – a reference to the bridegroom’s gallant war record, but with no hint that it had been as an NCO. He spoke of our meeting in a base hospital in France as though it were the Forest of Arden – no mention of the smell of blood and pus and my desperate struggle to force Ben to live. Skillfully Ralph converted a rushed and over-hasty wedding into a long and faithful courtship. My father spoke the conventional words – and I glimpsed my mother’s still-beautiful face, calm and controlled, showing not the faintest shadow of the turmoil and anger I knew she was feeling. Then Ben stood up; I tensed, but I need not have done. Though the Lancashire accent and over-loud tone betrayed him as the sergeant-major he once had been, he spoke slowly and carefully, in grammatical phrases and without one dropped h.

  The final toast was drunk, then Mother gave the signal and Ralph Dutton’s hand at my elbow helped me up. The cramps in my belly were so strong now I could scarcely stay upright as we circulated slowly among our guests. I clung to Ben’s arm, and Letty walked close beside me, answering the conventional queries and parrying the occasional overly-inquisitive probe with a quip and a laugh – so that all I needed to do was smile and murmur empty phrases.

  In the library I was left alone for one blessed moment, and in that moment I looked out over the sunlit terrace down to the shining lake and the rolling green parkland stretching away to the horizon. The sunlit vista of Hatton clutched at my heart in a piercing pang of regret – but then Ben swung round to speak to yet another guest, and the view was blotted out by the broad shoulders of my husband.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At long last Letty sent for Norah, and I was delivered into the hands of my maid. The hated orange blossoms were removed from my hair, the smooth satin dropped to my feet and I stepped out of the creamy pool. My silk petticoats slipped over my head and then I was ready to be dressed in my going-away costume. Norah fastened the dark green shantung at my back and held out the matching jacket. She pressed me gently down into a chair and knelt at my feet to ease on the narrow strapped shoes of bronze kid; the dark green cloche with its single shining feather came gently down over my tidied hair. I was breathing heavily; the cramps were
coming regularly now, and getting stronger. Norah spoke quietly. ‘My lady, I slipped a hot-water bottle into your overnight bag before John took it down.’ I whispered my thanks, then she added, ‘But don’t you think you should delay your departure, my lady? You’re hardly fit to travel.’

  ‘No, no – I must go now.’ I dragged myself upright and stumbled over to the lowest drawer of the chest. In the water closet I saw that I was bleeding very heavily now and my hands were shaking as I attached the loops of the clean pad.

  Ben was waiting for me at the foot of the oak staircase, dressed now in his own ill-fitting ready-made suit. We slipped out of the family entrance and into the waiting car. Ralph had gone ahead to the station, and only Letty and Norah waved us off. As the car swung round and down the long drive I kept my back rigidly upright, trying to hold in the pain.

  At Hareford we went in through the booking hall and came out on to the platform – and saw all the clerks and porters lined up with their buttons gleaming and their caps held stiffly by their sides, while Mr Shepherd advanced to meet us, in his best suit and carrying his glossy top hat in his hand. I longed to shrink back in my pain and embarrassment, but instead I had to force my shaking legs to walk forward, and hold out my hand to the stationmaster.

  Mr Shepherd shook it warmly. ‘My lady, I wish you all health and happiness in your married life.’ I just managed to smile, then his voice dropped a little. ‘I’ve not forgotten how you helped my son, and took the trouble to write and set our minds at rest – and my lady, I know what you nurses did for our lads out there – they’ll never forget it, never.’

  The tears stood in my eyes as I murmured my thanks. Then the train began to rumble into the platform and the stationmaster sprang to attention. ‘His lordship has reserved a first-class compartment for you both.’ Ralph Dutton stepped forward to shake Ben’s hand, his duties as best man now over. He turned to me and I reached out and clung to both his hands for a moment – Ralph who had been my brother’s friend – then he gently disengaged my fingers so that Ben could help me into the carriage. As the train drew out I raised my hand in acknowledgement of my impromptu guard of honour, and heard their answering cheer as I slumped back into the corner. I doubled up, whimpering, as the pain clawed at my belly.

  Ben jumped to his feet and bent over me. ‘What’s matter, lass?’ I pressed my hand into my side and panted for breath. ‘You’ve been as white as a sheet all day – I knew there were something wrong.’ He stood straddling the floor as the train jolted over the points, watching me, then he said, ‘You need a doctor. Look we’ll get you off – next stops are nobbut halts, but it’s not long to Altrincham, we’ll find one there.’

  Weakly I shook my head. ‘No – no Ben – it’s nothing serious.’

  ‘Not serious! You weren’t so good afore, but lass, look at state of you now! I’m taking you to doctor.’

  His voice was decided, and I knew I had to explain. I stared down at his highly polished boots and muttered, ‘It’s only – woman’s trouble, Ben. It’ll pass – eventually.’

  I sensed the stillness of the man in front of me, and in the brief respite between cramps, guilt flooded through me. He knew now that there was no child, that there had been no need for this marriage – whatever must he be feeling? Somehow I should have told him this morning and given him his release. But it was too late now and the narrow gold band tightened on my finger. Then the pain came again and I almost welcomed the temporary oblivion it brought with it.

  Ben spoke at last. ‘I don’t know what to do to help you. My niece – Fanny that is – she had troubles afore she were wed – our Ivy used to put her to bed with a hot brick.’ He looked helplessly round at the empty compartment.

  ‘Really, Ben – I’ll be better in a minute. Please – sit down – there’s nothing you can do.’ He sat down beside me in silence and I forced myself to breathe evenly and slowly.

  He got me off the train very quickly at Manchester and half-carried me out to a cab. ‘Victoria – quick as you can. There’s a Blackburn leaving on th’our and me missus is not so good – I want to get her home.’

  ‘Right y’ are, mate.’ The driver trod on his accelerator and we shot forward.

  At Victoria Ben dropped me on to a bench and ran full tilt to the booking office. As soon as he was back he hauled me up and put his arm round my waist, and my feet moved mechanically towards the platform. With a mighty heave he lifted me bodily into the compartment where smiling faces made room for me and I sank down on to the rough horsehair seat. He leapt in just as the whistle sounded, tossed my valise up on to the luggage rack and subsided, red in the face, opposite me. ‘I’m sorry lass – I meant to get first class – just for today.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Ben – it doesn’t matter.’ And I gave myself up to fighting the pain.

  By the time we got to Ainsclough I was losing my battle. The grimy town flashed past the cab windows as we bounced over the setts, then the engine note changed and we growled up the steep street until at last we stopped outside one of the identical small terraces. I sat slumped in the corner while Ben paid the man, then he came back and leant right into the cab. ‘Put your arms round me neck, lass.’ I did as he bid me and closed my eyes as he swung me up into his arms. I heard the heels of his boots strike the pavement, then he was easing me through a narrow doorway, and in seconds had put me gently down on a chair. When I opened my eyes I was sitting in a small kitchen, close to the warmth of a range. Ben stood looking down at me. ‘Well, I carried you over threshold – an’ some more beside.’ The cab driver came in with our hand luggage, and then I heard the front door slam behind him. We were alone together.

  Ben’s face softened. ‘Mrs Scholes said she’d make up the bed, lass – we’d best get you up there, I’m thinking.’ But as I began to move I became conscious of the fullness of my bladder – and the sodden pad between my legs. I looked round for my overnight case and saw it standing on the table – beside Ben. My mind would not function properly, and I sat on the edge of the chair looking at him, my face hot. He said gruffly, ‘Closet’s out back – there’s soap and a towel in scullery.’ But it was the fresh pad I needed. I stood up and reached for the handle of the case. ‘That’s over heavy for you, lass – I’ll take it upstairs in a minute.’ My brain was too slow to provide an answer and as I hesitated I felt the gush of blood between my legs and I knew I could wait no longer. I turned my back on him as my shaking fingers unfastened the case and groped inside. As soon as they touched the pads I slid one out and pressed it against the green silk of my skirt, then I edged past him with my eyes on the floor. He jumped suddenly out of the way.

  Thankfully the closet was a water closet. I collapsed with relief on to the scrubbed wooden seat, my legs shaking, and began to attend to my needs. But then I was left with the blood-soaked pad, and I sat helplessly, holding it until I caught sight of the squares of newspaper hung on a nail beside me – they were too small but they would have to do.

  I walked back in with my messy bundle, praying that he would be upstairs, but he was in the scullery filling the kettle at the single tap there. I pushed past him into the kitchen and darted frantically to the range, but I was still pushing my sodden bundle into the depths of the glowing coals as he came back holding the kettle. ‘There’s a bucket under…’ He stopped, then went on, ‘I thought you needed – me sisters used to soak their rags…’ I dropped the poker and headed towards the door, and the stairs went straight up on my left so I began to drag myself up them. ‘At front,’ he called out after me, and I pushed open the door and almost fell into the small bedroom. The brass bedstead was ready made up, the pillow high and plump, and Letty’s eiderdown glowed a warm pink in the late afternoon sun – but I could hear his footsteps on the stairs so I pulled myself round the foot of the bed to stand at bay beside the narrow window.

  He put my bag down on the wooden floor. ‘I’ll bring a jug of hot water up for you, so you can wash like – lucky Mrs Scholes lit range – and the
n I’ll pop round and see if she’s got a hot bottle for you.’

  ‘I have one – already. My maid packed it in my case.’

  ‘Then you get it out while I’m fetching jug.’ I pulled it out, then collapsed on to the single, straight-backed chair. He was soon back with the jug and he put it carefully down on the washstand and then took the bottle off the bed, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ll leave it on top step for you when I come back.’ He went out, latching the door firmly behind him. I trembled with relief at the privacy and began to tussle with the tiny buttons of my dress. I had just got it off when I heard his footsteps again – and stood frozen in my petticoat. But he kept his promise and did not come in.

  The pain was lessening slightly now into the aching lethargy that always followed the sharpest bouts. But when I had washed I felt a little fresher, and the satin nightdress was cool and comfortable on my skin – though I still tied my wrap around me before venturing out to retrieve my hot-water bottle. As I bent to pick it up I heard a door open downstairs and I sprang back into the safety of my bedroom like a startled rabbit. I waited, trembling, but he did not come up again. I turned to the bed, but my green shantung dress and jacket were lying carelessly over the foot, and I knew I must hang them up myself since there was no maid in this household. I pushed the bottle between the sheets and picked up my costume and carried it to the alcove – but when I pulled back the curtain which hung across it I stood still in astonishment – there were men’s clothes hanging there. Slowly I let the curtain fall back, then thought, I suppose there are no hooks in the other bedroom – how very inconvenient. I wondered if he had stored anything else in my bedroom, and went to the chest and began to pull out the drawers – and found that the bottom two held neat piles of men’s shirts and underpants and socks. They had been so carefully arranged that they looked quite at home there – and now I began to get frightened. I pushed the drawer back with shaking hands and crept over to the door. Very quietly I unlatched it, put one slippered foot on the tiny landing and gently eased open the door of the back bedroom. Once glance sufficed to show that there was no bed in there – only my piled-up boxes and trunks.