Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  I was barely conscious of Ben lifting me up much later. He carried me downstairs and put me in the rocker next to the range and began to re-lay it. I sat watching him as he peeled potatoes and chopped cabbage and cut the meat into thin strips and put them under the grill.

  He came to me and held his warm palm against my cheek for a moment. ‘I’ll get meself washed – water’s still hot.’ He picked up my lunchtime cup and saucer, then paused, ‘Helena – what did you eat for your dinner?’ I just looked at him. ‘Did you have any breakfast?’ He repeated the question until I had to answer.

  ‘A piece of bread and butter.’

  He drew in his breath sharply, then came and squatted on his haunches in front of the rocker. ‘Look, lass – I’m going to fetch some eggs from Sammy Whittle’s and you must promise me to have an egg every day – two eggs – when I’m not here.’ His eyes held mine until at last I nodded. ‘That’s a promise – right?’

  When he came back from the scullery he put the cabbage on and went out for the eggs; then he dished up the meal. ‘Come to table now.’

  ‘Ben I’m not…’ The words died away in the face of his implacable expression, and I had to eat everything he had put on my plate. It was an effort to swallow it, although it was all very tasty – he was obviously a much better cook than I was. Afterwards I crept out to the scullery to help him with the washing up.

  He wrung out the dishcloth and hung it neatly to dry over the edge of the sink, then said, ‘Go and put your hat on lass – I’m taking you out.’ I opened my mouth to refuse, but I could see it would be a waste of time arguing so I pulled myself upstairs and did as I was told.

  Outside the door we turned away from the town and went up the street and round on to a rough path that led to a steeply rising cart track. He held my arm firmly all the way; I stumbled several times, but he made me go on. My legs were shaking with the effort by the time we came out on to the open hillside. ‘Not much further now, lass.’ He led me down off the track to a slight depression in the hillside, then he took off his jacket and lowered me down on to it. He put his arm round my shoulder and held me against him, and we sat looking down over the untidy patchwork of allotments to the smoking chimneys of Ainslough in the valley below. We sat there for a long time in silence, then he turned and kissed my cheek and said, ‘Lass, if I’d been with you I’d have put that needle in his arm myself. But I weren’t and you had to do it – and now you mun live with it. Come on love, I’ll take you home.’

  I hung on his arm down the steep track and we came to the path through the little allotments. There was a goat in one of them, with a kid frisking beside her, and I stopped to watch them. Ben said, ‘That’s Jack Holleran’s kid – it’s a bonny little thing.’

  ‘Yes, yes it is.’ Then I managed to ask, ‘Which is your plot, Ben?’

  He squeezed my arm. ‘Come over here and I’ll show you.’ We threaded our way between the low fences and came to a neat little gate. He led me in. ‘I need to do a bit of sticking with me peas. Come and sit on bench outside of shed – it catches sun in th’evening.’ I sat and watched him moving among the pea sticks, delicately lifting the fine green tendrils and curling them round the branching twigs. It was very peaceful.

  He sent me up to bed as soon as we got in and I fell asleep at once. I heard him moving about the bedroom later, and half turned – and as soon as he was under the sheets he pulled me against him, and I lay with my cheek pressed against his shoulder until I drifted into sleep again.

  I woke late the next morning – there was a pale skin on the cup of tea beside my bed; I had not even heard him bring it up. Out in the closet I saw that my pad was barely stained; it often happened like that: when the pain was especially bad I would flood at first – then it would finish quickly, sooner than usual. I began to unfasten the belt, then stopped, my hands shaking, remembering Ben’s voice: ‘But lass, you’ll tell me when you’re ready, won’t you?’ I would be ‘ready’ tonight.

  I went quickly back into the kitchen and put the kettle on, then while it boiled I went upstairs to make the bed. As I shook out the bottom sheet I remembered Pansy’s wail of distress; I remembered Conan with the girl in the night club; I remembered Guy with the painted female on his arm, and my mother’s matter-of-fact voice saying, ‘Your brothers are normal, healthy young men, thank God.’ Ben was a normal, healthy young man – and of course, while I was his wife, he would need to use me regularly. I felt calmer once I had accepted that. I came down and made the tea and then, reluctantly, forced myself to boil and eat the eggs Ben had insisted on.

  The shelves and window ledges were already begrimed with a sooty dust; there were too many mill chimneys in Ainsclough. I found a block of hard soap and a scrubbing brush under the scullery draining board and took the pail to run off hot water from the range and began to scrub. At midday I made up the range and then went quickly down to the town to buy mutton chops and spring greens – I even remembered some ham for Ben’s snap tin, and that we needed more bread.

  When I got back I sat down to a cup of tea, then resumed my cleaning – my dolls’ house would be as bright as a new pin. But as my hands worked I began to worry again – however would I tell Ben? And what would he expect of me? It was obvious from what he had said on the moors that he was used to experienced women and I was thinner than ever now, would I be able to satisfy him? I straightened up as I knelt on the floor and looked doubtfully down at my small breasts – and remembered enviously the full bosoms of my mother and Alice – and Emmie Greenhalgh. And if I did not satisfy him – would he go elsewhere? He had said in the dog cart, ‘I’ll not lay a finger on another woman’ – but he was a man and I knew men better than that. Except for Gerald – but I must not think of Gerald, not when tonight I would be… I thrust my brush into the pail of soapy water and shook it out and began to scrub viciously at the linoleum. But as I scrubbed I remembered Papa, and Conan and Guy – and wished that I had asked Alice’s advice while she was at Hatton – I would feel so humiliated if my husband used other women so soon after our wedding.

  He came in with a rush while I was still on my knees. ‘Hello, lass – still scrubbing? Best stop now, I’ll want me tea as soon as I’ve had me bath.’

  I went into the scullery to peel the potatoes and he came in after me and began to fill his bath, ‘Good lass – water’s nice and hot.’ I glanced round as he spoke and saw he was already unbuttoning his trousers – I picked up the vegetables and almost ran into the kitchen. I heard him call out: ‘You might come and give me back a scrub, lass – since you’ve been practising!’ but I pretended not to hear as my face burned.

  The pans were boiling and the chops browning under the grill by the time he came back into the kitchen, smelling of soap. ‘Now let’s say a proper how do.’ He pulled me against his hard chest and kissed me quickly. Still holding me tight he asked, ‘How ’ave you bin today, lass?’

  ‘Better, Ben – I’ve been better.’

  ‘Good – you look brighter.’

  I took a deep breath and fixed my eyes on the window pane over his shoulder as I added, ‘And, Ben – I – that is – I’m not, I’ve finished.’ My cheeks were on fire by the time I had ended my halting explanation.

  ‘Finished what, lass? Cleaning? Well, of course you – ah.’ I felt his arm stiffen as he took his other hand away and began to run it down over my hips. My dress was of light cotton, so I knew what he was looking for; he pushed me a little away from him so he could explore my belly – and stood very still as his hand dropped lower. Then he gave a grunt of satisfaction – but his fingers were still probing, even though he must have known there was no pad there – and I was confused and broke away exclaiming, ‘The chops are burning, Ben!’

  He let me go and went and sat down at the table. I took down the plates and began to serve the meat, but my fingers were clumsy and I fumbled with the fish slice and dropped it. He moved very quickly and his hand brushed the back of my leg as he picked up the slice. ‘I’ll give
it a rinse under tap - though floor’s shining with all your scrubbing.’ As he came back from the scullery I held out my free hand but he ignored it and came right round behind me and pulled me back against his chest for a moment as he put down the slice on the top of the stove. Then he let go and I felt clumsier than ever as I dished out under his intent gaze.

  ‘Smells good.’ He picked up his knife and fork and attacked the mutton, then frowned. ‘It’s a bit tough – where did you get them?’ He flicked the chop over – and it was pink and raw on the other side. He began to laugh. ‘Didn’t you turn them over?’ He watched the expression on my face and laughed louder. ‘Wait till I tell old Jacky in the morning – my missus didn’t know you had to grill chops both sides!’ He stood up. ‘Hand me that pan.’

  I watched, humiliated, as he threw the whole meal back into the grill pan and thrust it under the light. The chops were still rather tough when he had finished, and my jaw ached from chewing – but I dared not leave anything in case Ben was angry with me.

  He came out to help me with the washing up, but he had a very odd way of drying – he took each piece of cultery and crockery off the draining board separately, and carried it into the kitchen. And every time, as he came back, his body brushed against mine. As I took off my apron I asked, ‘Are you going up to the plot today, Ben?’

  ‘Aye – put your hat on, lass, and come with me.’ I did not really want to go, but it was easier to do as he told me.

  It was a fine summer evening and several doors were open to the street, and men sat out on chairs beside them in shirtsleeves and braces, smoking and reading their newspapers. They looked up as we passed. ‘Evenin’, Ben – evenin’ Missus Holden.’ Ben returned their greeting; I smiled shyly, my cheeks warm.

  I sat in the sun on the little bench, watching Ben. He squatted over a tray of seedlings, re-potting them – his broad fingers handling the seedlings delicately before he pressed the new earth down around their slender green stalks. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves and the sun glinted on the downy brown thatch on his arms. As he bent forward each time to pick up the next pot his shirt stretched taut over the muscles of his broad shoulders; he moved with a steady, economical rhythm and I could not take my eyes from him. He swung round, suddenly, and caught my gaze – and his face flushed a dusky red before he turned back and bent forward for the next pot.

  When he had finished he put his tools away in the small shed and came and stood in front of me. ‘Come on now, lass, time to go home.’ As I stood up I swayed towards him and taking my hand he drew it firmly through his arm.

  Back in the parlour we sat either side of the fireplace; I tried to read the newspaper, and Ben had a book in front of him – but every time I glanced up he was looking at me. I said quickly, to break the silence, ‘You don’t smoke any more, Ben.’

  ‘No, lass, I gave it up, after war – Company don’t like it on footplate – besides, it’s a waste of money.’ He looked down at his book again; he must be a very slow reader – I had not seen him turn a page yet.

  At half-past nine he jumped up and stretched. ‘I fancy an early night meself, I’ve had a rough day – I were driving but I only had a lad with me, so I had to do both jobs.’ I sat on. ‘You must be tired too, lass – with all cleaning you’ve done – up you go now and I’ll fetch your hot water.’ I stood up slowly.

  He left the jug outside on the landing for me, but I was still towelling myself dry when I heard him coming back up the stairs. I tipped the basin so quickly into the slop pail that it splashed onto my clean lino – but I dared not stop to mop it up. I began frantically to pull on my nightdress.

  ‘Are you in bed yet, lass?’ I spun round and leapt in just as he pushed the door open, and I lay down, facing the window, while he undressed. The bed springs creaked, then I felt his hand on my shoulder. ‘Come on lass – give us a kiss.’ Slowly I turned to face him, but even as his lips touched mine I could feel his other hand moving purposefully down over my hips – and I went rigid. His head drew back and his face was dark in the shadows; he was panting, ‘Lass, lass,’ and he began to tug at my nightdress, trying to pull it up – but it twisted round my behind and would not come and he began to swear softly, ‘Bloody hell – it won’t soddin’ shift – here.’ He threw the bedclothes back and rolled me over on to my belly so he could wrench my skirt free, then I was tossed on to my back again and I felt his hands trying to prise my trembling legs apart as he loomed over me. ‘Let me get in, lass – let me get in!’ He was almost shouting at me and his face was dark and alien as he finally dragged my legs apart. Then he was astride me, his hips heaving, and I closed my eyes as he swung down on me, pushed hard – and came in. He was stretching me wider and wider – I thought I would burst – until he drew back for a moment – but the next thrust came deeper and now my belly was full of him and his hot heavy body was splayed out over mine. He was groaning and grunting like an animal and I heard my own breath coming in frightened pants – I could not adjust to his frantic lunges as my body tensed in panic – and then, all of a sudden, it was over. He collapsed down on to me and only his hips jerked spasmodically on top of mine; and I heard his little snuffling gasps of pleasure as my belly accepted his seed. He pressed against me and nuzzled my neck, and I pulled my hand free and gently stroked his damp hair.

  When he finally raised his face it looked like a young boy’s, with the tense darkness gone from it now – and he smiled at me as he bent down and gently brushed my lips with his. Then he drew his shoulders back and propped himself up on his elbows; our bodies were still joined as I lay with his maleness deep inside me, but he was still now, and I smiled up at him in relief. He said softly, ‘Tha don’t know how much pleasure tha’s given me tonight, Helena. I’ve been fit to burst for thee these last few days – I thought about pulling meself off – but it didn’t seem right, not with us just being wed, so I waited – I wanted you to have all of it.’ He bent and brushed my bps again. ‘But lass – I know I were too quick for you – I’m sorry.’

  I whispered, ‘It doesn’t matter, Ben.’

  He smiled as he disagreed. ‘Oh aye, it does matter – I want you to enjoy yourself too, sweetheart – it’s only fair. Give us a kiss now.’

  He put his lips firmly down on mine and I opened my mouth to him so his tongue could fill it – just as his manhood was filling my belly. And as we clung together I felt him quiver deep inside me, and then he was swelling again even as I held him – I pulled my face away, startled, and he chuckled and said, ‘With you kissing me like that I reckon next time’s already here. I knew it wouldn’t be long, sweetheart – state you’ve had me in over last few days. Put your hands on me backside like you did on moors – I like feel of them there.’ I did as he bid me and he grunted and began to move again, but more slowly this time. I watched his face stiffen and become intent as he used my body once more – and felt a surge of triumph that I had aroused him again so quickly.

  It was easier now, and I relaxed under him until I sensed the quickening of his steady rhythm under my palms and braced myself ready for his final deep thrusts. As I felt him throbbing between my legs I turned my face and pressed my lips to his damp cheek and he groaned with pleasure, ‘Oh lass, lass – hold me tighter, lass.’ And I spread my hands on his buttocks and pulled him hard into me, and he groaned louder as he filled me for the second time.

  When he had finished he raised his head and kissed me full on the lips, then slid out and rolled away from me and pulled the sheet and blanket back over us. I lay beside him in the darkness with my nightdress rucked up around my waist, waiting for him to fall asleep – I was too shy of him now to dare to wriggle in the bed and pull it down. But his breathing did not change, and at last he reached out a hand and took hold of mine. ‘Helena?’ His voice was low. ‘Are you asleep yet, lass?’

  ‘No, Ben.’

  The mattress shook as his heavy body turned towards me. ‘Then, lass, do you think you could take me again? Seems I’ve
got more for you yet.’

  I said simply, ‘Yes, Ben,’ and heard his deep sigh of satisfaction as he heaved himself on top of me again. He eased himself gently inside, ‘That’s lovely, sweetheart,’ then there was silence as his hips swung steadily up and down. I was so slippery now with his seed that I scarcely felt him stretch me and he held his weight a little above me, so that when I knew he was ready I could lift my hips for him, and then I held him tightly as he slumped down on me. Afterwards he heaved a great sigh of contentment and kissed me. ‘I reckon that’s done trick, sweetheart – thanks, lass.’ And this time I heard his breathing change as soon as he rolled off me; he was asleep at once. I waited a moment and then cautiously began to pull down my nightdress. I was very damp now, and as I turned on my side his seed oozed out of me, so I bunched the satin skirt of my nightdress up in my hand and pushed it between my legs to mop myself up, then I too fell asleep.

  When I woke up again it was quite dark; I was still very damp, and I thought of the long trek down to the backyard and wished I had not had that last cup of tea – but it was no good, I had to go. I began to ease myself very carefully out of the bed. I was feeling for my slippers when a voice said, ‘It’s all right, lass – I’m not asleep,’ so I stood up and found them with my toes. As I groped my way round the end of the bed he spoke again. ‘Don’t be long, lass, will you?’

  I stopped, ‘You can go first, Ben, if you want.’

  There was a low chuckle in the darkness. ‘Nay, sweetheart, I’m not after closet – it’s thee I need – so be a good lass and don’t take so long.’

  I whispered, ‘No, Ben,’ and almost tumbled down the stairs, my legs were shaking so much. But as I sat outside on the wooden seat I heard his words in my head: ‘It’s thee I need,’ and there in the cold closet my body was suffused with a warm glow of pride. I could not even cook chops – and my breasts were too small and my body too thin – but this man wanted me, needed me – and was impatient to take me yet again. I smiled as I tugged at the chain and ran back into the small scullery.