Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  As I came back into the bedroom the gas was on, and I stood in the doorway blinking – dazzled for a moment as I heard him say, ‘Good girl – you’ve been right quick.’ Then I saw that he had thrown back the bedclothes and was lying naked on the bottom sheet. I stood quite still, wanting to look away, but I could not. His voice was coaxing. ‘Come to bed now, lass – I threw covers off ’cause it were getting too warm.’ I began to edge slowly towards him, and as I came to the end of the bed I saw it – his manhood lying straight and swollen on his belly – rising out of the dark bushy fullness between his legs. And as I stared at it, it jumped, and jumped again. He laughed softly, ‘He’s saying hello to you – but don’t keep him waiting, lass – he wants to get in warm where he belongs.’ And suddenly I ran forward and tumbled on to the bed on my belly and hid my frightened face in my pillow – but his strong arm scooped me up and rolled me over and began to push up my nightdress – his hands were confident and unhurried now as he separated my legs. ‘Bend your knees – bring ’em up – that’s the ticket, sweetheart – I can get in easier like that – aah.’

  Afterwards I lay beside him and knew he was not asleep; a church clock chimed and I listened to the four strokes. He stirred a little, and then reached out for me. ‘Let’s have a feel of you, lass – we’ve not had much time for cuddling tonight – turn over then.’ We lay face to face in the darkness and his breath was warm on my cheek as he unbuttoned the low bodice of my nightdress. ‘Let’s see what’s at top end, now, shall we?’ He slipped his hands inside and began to stroke my breasts, steadily, rhythmically, until I felt as though I were floating. He murmured, ‘You like that, don’t you sweetheart? I saw that first morning after we were wed – like a little she-cat you were – almost purring with it.’ And as he stroked me I saw again the picture I had seen as I came into the bedroom – but now it was not frightening – and I reached out and my fingers touched his hip. He stiffened a moment, then in the same low coaxing voice murmured, ‘That’s right, sweetheart – you give me a bit of a stroke too – fair’s fair – I bin labouring hard over you tonight.’ He chuckled softly and my hand began to stroke his hip, and then it moved round to stroke his flat firm stomach and then, of its own volition, it slid down – and found it. It was like damp silk under my fingertips, and it was already firm – but it became firmer with my touch and jumped under my hand so that I quickly pulled back – but now his large hand clamped down over mine and pressed my palm against it so that I felt the steady pulse as it swelled. He held me imprisoned there for a while, then he released my hand and drew me to him. ‘Come on then, lass – I reckon I can give you what you want now.’

  He moved so smoothly this time it was like a dream, and afterwards my belly felt so soft and comfortable that I drifted into sleep at once.

  Chapter Three

  I was scarcely conscious of his kissing me goodbye, and it was much later when I awoke. Lying in bed drowsy and relaxed, I saw his jacket hanging behind the door – and the sight of it reminded me that my wedding night had come at last. My whole body blushed with the memory of it, and for a moment I convinced myself that it had all been a dream – but then I felt the stickiness of his seed, and there was a feeling deep inside me – not of pain, or even soreness – but a sensation that told me he had indeed been there. I sat up in bed and looked down at my nightdress – it was crumpled and stained so I pulled it off and threw it on the floor. Then I knelt on the mattress and gazed down at my small breasts and flat belly and narrow hips, and wondered that I had ever been able to accommodate him, but he had made sure that I did – very sure.

  And suddenly I wanted to laugh aloud; I was different this morning – I had been made a wife. Not with a quick, apologetic fumble under the bedclothes – oh no – my man had nearly split me in two with his lusty strength. I shivered as I saw the bruises inside my thighs where he had prised my knees apart – and then I smiled again, because I knew he had not meant to hurt me; he had not known what he was doing in the feverish heat of his need for me. And it was I, I who had aroused him to that pitch – and then I had satisfied him. But I laughed softly as I remembered how long it had taken to satisfy him – I had had to take him inside me and receive his seed five full times before he had been spent. And I was glad, because I knew he had had to take me in marriage – I had not been his choice – but at least he had got full value from me last night.

  I slid off the bed and went to the washstand and splashed myself all over with the cold water, towelled myself briskly dry until I was glowing – then dressed quickly and ran downstairs. As soon as I had drunk my tea and eaten my eggs I attacked the sweeping and dusting vigorously – I felt full of energy today. I went upstairs to make our bed and my face was burning as I pulled off the tumbled sheets. As I shook up the bolster and laid it across the head I smiled to myself at the thought of the naïve Helena who had been so surprised that there was only this one bed in the house – I knew now that a dressing room would be no use to a man like mine; he needed his woman close beside him, ready to take him when he woke swollen and throbbing in the dark.

  It was Friday, so I bought fish. I had just put the damp package away in the larder when the postman came with a parcel – I recognized Letty’s handwriting and shied away from it – I would open it later when I had time.

  That afternoon the hands of the clock crawled at first – then they began to race round and it was time for Ben to come home and I saw my face pink with embarrassment in the scullery mirror, and I bent over the sink peeling potatoes with trembling hands. I was in the kitchen when I heard him at the door and I quickly picked up my fish and was arranging it in the frying pan as he came through. I smelt the coal dust on him as he said, ‘Hello lass – I’m in a mucky sweat today – I’ll run me bath.’ I heard his whistling in the scullery, then he came out in his fresh clothes and took the frying pan out of my hand and pushed it to the back of the stove. ‘They’ll keep – you won’t. Come here.’ He kissed me full on the mouth and slid one hand down my back and on to my behind and began to knead my buttocks. As his tongue pushed at my closed Ups I pulled away. ‘Ben – I – the fish – it’ll be burning –’ But it was my cheeks that were burning as he laughed and let me go.

  He nodded over to the dresser. ‘There’s a parcel come.’

  ‘Yes – I know – it’s from Letty.’ Then I was aware of the sudden silence behind me; I swung round and saw he was staring at the parcel, his face immobile. He picked it up and held it out to me. ‘So you’re still “Lady Helena”.’ His voice was expressionless. Letty had addressed it clearly in her characteristic red ink: ‘The Lady Helena Holden’.

  I explained, ‘Yes, I am – it’s a courtesy title, you see.’

  ‘So you keep it – even if you get wed?’

  ‘No, not always – if I’d married Lord…’ then my voice trailed away. He waited in silence so I added, ‘I keep it unless I marry a man of higher rank than Papa – then I take his title.’

  He said flatly, ‘Well, you certainly ’aven’t done that, Lady ’Elena.’ The dropped h grated on me – he had never made that mistake with my name before.

  The herrings had fried quite well, but Ben did not seem to enjoy them very much. After he had pushed his plate away he suggested, ‘Best open Letty’s parcel, lass – see what it is.’

  I slit the brown paper slowly – please God not more photographs – but it was a book, a new one. I looked at it blankly – why on earth had Letty sent me this? It was a cookery book. Ben pulled it round so he could read the spine and then gave a great shout of laughter. ‘Your kid – she’s a smart lass – a very smart lass, fancy her thinking of that.’ I stared down at the book in my hand: Plain Cookery for the Middle Classes. Ben grinned and pointed to the title. ‘I suppose she reckons as I’m a working man and you’re a lady we average out in the middle when it comes to food.’ That was exactly what Letty had written in her first sentence, so I passed it over to Ben, and he laughed again as he scanned it.

  I said fr
igidly, ‘Perhaps you should have married Letty, since you obviously share her sense of humour.’

  Ben stood up and came round the table and pulled me back against him with one hand; the other fondled my breast and then slid down to pat my belly. ‘No, lass, like I said, she’s smart – too smart to open her legs to a mere footplateman. Nobody less than a duke’ll be allowed to tumble our Letty.’ He kissed my ear and went out into the scullery and through to the backyard, whistling. I glared at his retreating back, then as the closet door closed I looked down again to read the rest of Letty’s letter. It was quite short and she finished with:

  ‘Norah told Fisher you were “unwell” on the morning of your wedding, so Mother’s more angry than ever.

  And you never did tell me what it was like, you spoilsport – now I’ll have to find out for myself!

  Your affectionate sister Violet Clare Dorothea

  P.S. I hope this is in time to prevent your poisoning Ben – still, I suppose after Maconochie he can stand anything!’

  The cheek of Letty – she had never cooked anything in her life! But I picked up the book and looked up ‘fish’ – and discovered I should have rolled my herrings in oatmeal.

  Ben came back, dumped down the filled coal hod by the range, then went to his working jacket, reached into the pocket and brought a handful of money over to the table. He began to count it out in front of me; I looked at him, bewildered. ‘Here’s your housekeeping, lass. I’ve kept back the eight and ninepence for the rent and set aside what we’ll need for th’ire of cooker and to pay coal and insurance, and rest is yours.’ As I began to scoop up the money he coughed and said, ‘It’s custom to give your husband back a bit for his paper and baccy and such like – of course, I don’t smoke now, but I like a pint from time to time.’

  I dropped the money again. ‘Then you take what you need, Ben.’

  He said patiently, ‘No, lass, as long as I gets a shilling or two it’s up to you how much – depends on what you think we can afford.’

  ‘Ben, I don’t know what we can afford – how could I possibly know that?’ I was getting exasperated, and he looked hurt.

  ‘I thought you’d’a got it sorted by now, lass… Well, you could always pop round and ask Mrs Greenhalgh, she’d give you a word of advice – and young Emmie’d be pleased to see you…’ I just sat staring at him, then I pushed a ten-shilling note in his direction. ‘Take that, Ben.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘I reckon that’s too much, mebbe half of that…’

  I picked up the crumpled note and held it between the fingers of my two hands and told him, ‘Then I’ll tear it in half – that should satisfy you.’ It was whipped out of my fingers and stuffed into his trouser pocket. ‘Don’t be so daft, Helena.’ He sounded quite huffy. ‘I’m going up plot to do watering.’

  He arrived back just as I was finishing the washing up. He came up behind me and put his arm round my waist. ‘I’m back, lass.’

  ‘I can see that, Ben – I’ve got the sink to clean.’

  ‘Oh, aye.’ He let me go. ‘I’ll be in parlour then, when you’re through.’

  He looked up from his paper as I went in. ‘I forgot to tell you – Ivy’s Joe left a note for me at shed to say Ivy’s expecting us both for dinner on Sunday.’ He frowned slightly. ‘I dunno – with it being me day off I reckon we could have done with a bit of time together – get to know each other, like.’ I remembered the previous night, and wondered what he meant – surely we already knew each other, after our bodies had been joined so fully; there could scarcely be more intimacy between us than that – and tonight… My cheeks burned and I could not look at him as he added, ‘Still, we’ll have to go – Ivy’s very particular, and it’ll save you having to cook a roast with all the trimmings.’ I felt a rush of gratitude to the unknown Ivy.

  I put my head back in the chair and closed my eyes; I felt drowsy. He said, ‘You look quite tired, lass – reckon us’d better have an early night. You’ve bin overdoing it with all th’ousework.’ I heard the chair creak as he got up, and his shadow came over my closed lids, his voice much nearer now. ‘How about a nice lie down, upstairs’ – there was a loud rat-a-tat-tat at the front door. ‘Who th’ hell’s that then?’ He did not sound very pleased. The door banged again, and a voice shouted, ‘Come on, Ben lad – we know tha’s in theer - oppen up.’

  ‘A’m coming - give us a chance.’ He went through into the small lobby and pulled the door open. ‘So it’s you, Wally.’

  A cheerful male voice answered. ‘T’lads sent me to fetch thi, Ben – it’s Friday, and we’ve not celebrated thi getting wed yet. Put your jacket on, lad.’

  ‘But Wally, me missus…’

  ‘Ben – thi only gets wed once – and lads are down theer waiting – first round’s been set up.’

  He still seemed to be hesitating so I called out, ‘Of course you must go, Ben – don’t worry about me.’

  A ruddy face behind a large walrus moustache appeared round the lobby door and beamed at me. ‘’Ow do, Missus ’Olden – theer th’art, Ben, oo can’t say fairer nor that – catch my missus being so obliging.’ Ben went to fetch his jacket and cap. Wally stood waiting for him, and Ben barely brushed my cheek with his lips as he said goodbye. I smiled at him. ‘Enjoy yourself, Ben.’ Then, as soon as the door closed behind him I curled up in the armchair and fell asleep.

  A child’s voice calling outside woke me briefly, but there was no sign of Ben and I dozed off again at once. It was much later when I was woken again by the noise in the street of heavy boots clattering on the cobbles and men’s voices singing. My ear distinguished the words as they came up the street – it was not difficult, since they were bawling ‘She’s a lassie from Lancashire’, with the full force of their powerful lungs. The voices came nearer, then they suddenly skidded to a halt outside the window. ‘’Ere tha art Ben – this mun be thy place, in wi’ thi, owd lad.’ The door burst open and I froze in my seat. ‘Nah then, be’ave thissen, now tha’s wed!’ Then there were shouts of: ‘See thee, Ben – see thee Ben,’ followed by a slam – and Ben lurched out of the small lobby, his face bright red and glistening with sweat. He stumbled, and reached out to hold himself up on the wall.

  ‘Where ish she – where’sh me little lassie from – from Sheshire – that’sh it, my lassie’s from Cheshire.’ His eyes swivelled round the room until they lighted on me. ‘’Ere she ish – waitin’ up for ’er master.’ His face was one enormous, foolish grin; he was obviously completely drunk. I watched as he very carefully negotiated the lino, tripped over the rug, and came to a swaying halt in front of my chair. He put his two hands down on the arms, leant forward and breathed a gust of beery breath full in my face: ‘Give ush a kiss, luv.’ I managed to turn my mouth away, and his lips collided with my cheek. He pulled back, looking puzzled, then smiled again. ‘You look tired, lass – you should be in,’ he hiccupped, then said very loudly, ‘in bed! That’sh place for you and me, lass. I bin – ah bin shelebrating getting wed wi’ lads – an’ now I want ter teli – beli – shelibrate, wi’ you!’ He finished triumphantly.

  I edged myself away from him. ‘I think I’ll stay downstairs a little longer, Ben – I’m not really tired.’

  But he obviously was not listening. ‘Tell you what, lass – I’ll carry you upstairs, let’sh get ’old o’ you.’

  He swayed forward and tried to slide his hand underneath me, but it became entangled with my skirt and as I tried to wriggle away he managed to push up under my petticoat. He lost his balance and fell across me so that I was pinned into the chair and I heard his breathing quicken as his strong fingers tugged open the leg of my knickers. ‘That feels real nish, ’Elena.’ He began to push against me as his hand probed higher into the soft moistness between my legs. ‘Oo, ’Elena, that ish nice, that ish nice.’ His red face leered foolishly at me, and I tried to pull away, but his strong arm hauled me back as the hand between my legs became more insistent. He whispered, ‘Come on, lass – get your drawers down –
I got summat for you – you’re me wife now.’ And of course, I was – ‘in sickness and in health’ – in drunkenness and sobriety. He muttered again, ‘Come on, lash – be nice to me.’

  I said resignedly, ‘All right, Ben – I’ll be nice to you; but let’s go upstairs first, shall we? It’ll be more comfortable.’

  His hand stopped moving as his fuddled brain mulled over my suggestion, then his face broke into a beaming smile. ‘What a good idea, ’Elena – what a clever little lass you are – it’sh draughty on ’earthrugs. I’ll carry you upstairs.’ Slowly his hand began to slide out from under my skirts, and he pushed himself upright and straightened, like a large, shambling bear. He repeated again, ‘I’ll carry you up, ’Elena.’ His hand came down on my knee but I managed to jump up and shake it off. ‘No thank you, Ben – I can manage.’

  He swayed a moment, then pursed his lips in solemn agreement. ‘You’m right, ’Elena.’ He bent over me and said, his voice low and confidential, ‘Truth t’tell – I’ve ’ad a little drink, tonight, an’ now I need a leak, so I’d best get outside and ’ave one.’

  ‘Yes, Ben – you do that.’ I gave him a little push towards the inner door and he set off obediently. As soon as he was in the kitchen I headed for the stairs and ran up them full tilt. I banged the bedroom door behind me and glanced down – there was a key in the lock, and for a moment I thought of turning it – but suppose he tried to beat the door down? Besides, as he had said, I was his wife now. I began to take my clothes off.

  I was still struggling into my nightdress when I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs; he came in before I was in bed, and lumbered towards me, his face one big beaming smile. ‘’Ello, lash.’

  I said quickly, ‘I haven’t washed yet, Ben.’