When I had finished he bit his lip and asked, ‘Lass – can you undress yourself?’
I said quickly, ‘Yes Ben – I think so.’
‘Then I’ll go outside – but I’ll only be on landing, in case you need me.’
I pulled off my coat – it weighed like lead, and my arms ached as I raised them to my hat. I fumbled with the buttons of my frock, but I could not get it over my head, so I had to call him. I lay with my eyes closed while he took off my dress and my petticoat and my bodice. ‘Raise your arms, sweetheart, and we’ll get your nightie on afore you catch cold.’ Only when my nightgown was well pulled down did he reach under it and tug off my drawers, and I was grateful for his thoughtfulness. His hands were gentle on my legs as he slid down my stockings and removed my suspender belt. ‘Up you come now, lass – so’s I can put you between sheets.’ I sat up and looked down – to see the betraying bulge in his trousers. My head jerked up and his face reddened. ‘It’s all right, lass – doctor spoke to me – I know I can’t – But, mebbe you’d give me just the one kiss?’
I held up my lips and his warm mouth pressed mine; but I felt – nothing.
I said helplessly, ‘I’m sorry, Ben, I’m sorry.’
He touched my shoulder briefly. ‘It’s all right, lass – I understand. After all, it’s been a long time. Goodnight, sweetheart.’ He swung round and quickly left the room.
As I heard his boots clattering down the stairs I thought, and it’s been a long time for you, too, Ben – and now I am back I can do nothing to satisfy you. I turned my face into the pillow and wept. In my madness I had coupled shamelessly and without tenderness – but at least I had given him something he needed. What could I give him now?
Chapter Two
It was dark and so quiet – where was I? I lay, clutching at the edge of consciousness, slipping over it – so that I saw a world like the real one – yet not quite like – a world where the odd was normal and the door moved and the window opened itself so that the curtains flapped in at me, coming closer – I cried out.
The door flew open; Ben was standing on the threshold in his nightshirt, his hairy legs bare. My breath came in frightened pants – I could not control it. Then I felt his arm come round me, and I clung to him desperately because he was warm and breathing and alive; his hand rubbed my back, hard and heavy – and at last I knew I was awake.
‘Was it a nightmare, lass?’ I nodded; it was too difficult to explain that it was the almost-reality which had terrified me. ‘I’ll go down and put kettle on, fetch us both a cup of tea.’
I was frightened. ‘No – please don’t leave me!’
He grunted, and tugged a blanket off the bed and rolled me in it, then bent to swing me up. ‘Your slippers – you’ve no slippers on.’
He smiled, ‘I’ll fetch them later – don’t you fret now. Let’s get you downstairs.’
So I sat in the kitchen where he had put me in a wooden Windsor armchair and saw by the light of the gas mantle that the rocker had gone; I was thankful.
He came back in his slippers and trousers. ‘Do you fancy a rasher o’ bacon wi’ your tea?’ He did not wait for my reply but dumped the frying pan down on the gas ring. The bacon sizzled and spat and it smelled good – it was months since food had smelled like that. He glanced at my face and smiled. ‘Best have some bread with it.’ I bit eagerly into the thick sandwich and he laughed aloud. ‘I reckon you’ll need more’n invalid food now if you’re going to build your strength up. I’ll put joint in oven soon – Mary’ll be popping in later to see to the veg and the gravy – she makes a capital gravy, does Mary.’
‘Ben – how long have you known Mrs Grimshaw?’
‘We were at school together – started same day in infants’ – she sat in front of me with a lovely pair of brown plaits hanging down her back, so I tied them to straps of her pinny – when she bent her head forward they pulled and she screeched! Teacher gie me a clout across me hand with t’ruler – first day, and all! But me Mam said it served me right.’
I began to stand up. ‘I’d better get dressed, before she comes.’
‘No need – she’ll help you.’ But suddenly I wanted to be dressed and tidy and ready.
Mary Grimshaw’s plaits were still brown, but wound neatly round her head now. She was efficient and polite – as Ben said, she had been in good service. I sat in the parlour and heard her chatting to him in the kitchen – but when she came through to announce lunch she ducked her head and murmured, ‘My lady.’
Mrs Grimshaw went home to her family and I began to cut the tender roast beef – but all of a sudden I could not eat it. I put my knife and fork down. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’ I tried not to cry, but I felt so ill and dreary; knowing I would never laugh again. The tears began to flow of their own accord.
‘Just sit still a while, lass – I’ll put your dinner warming.’
‘Please, Ben – you finish yours.’ And he did, while I fastened my eyes on his steadily moving knife and fork – they seemed the only reality. When he had finished he coaxed me to eat a little more, but the cutlery was weighted with lead so that I could scarcely lift it, and I felt deathly tired.
‘Upstairs now, lass.’
‘No – don’t leave me!’
So he carried me through to the small front room, even smaller now that a sofa had replaced one of the armchairs, and I lay on it and finally slept – reassured by the rustling of his Sunday paper as he sat by the fire reading.
The next day was a little easier: Ben had to go to work early but I could hear Mary Grimshaw moving about downstairs. She brought me my morning tea on a tray with a white cloth, and offered to come back and help me dress; but I refused, and managed to get up by myself. As soon as I opened the bedroom door she came up the stairs again. ‘Ben said I must stay close to you on the steps, my lady,’ and I was glad of her sturdy body just below me as I staggered down – I was still so shaky.
There was a letter from Mother; she was coming to call on me – in Royds Street, Ainsclough! I stared down at the crested notepaper, rather frightened, then told Mary we must be ready to receive a visitor tomorrow.
We heard the Delaunay-Belleville draw up outside, to the excited shouts of the children playing in the street, and I hastily patted my hair tidy while Mary sprang to open the door. She ushered Mother through the tiny lobby then announced: ‘Lady Pickering, my lady,’ to the small, cluttered parlour.
My palms were damp with nervousness but Mother was gracious – though her arched eyebrows rose as she surveyed the room. Mrs Grimshaw appeared with the tray – carefully arranged with my best wedding tea set. I poured, a little shakily, and handed Mother her cup.
She sipped her tea before saying, ‘Your maid appears quite well trained – but you really should tell her to wear an apron in the afternoons – not that overall.’ Her lips tightened a little.
I drew a deep breath before telling her, ‘Mary is not my maid, Mother, she was at school with Ben. Her husband was disabled in the war, so it suits her to come and help us at present.’
Mother frowned, but turned the conversation to Conan: he had taken a tumble out hunting, but luckily only suffered bruising – and been back in the saddle next day. He was flying regularly from an aerodrome near Blackpool, but she said she was sure he was more careful now – ‘I think he had several close shaves in China, Helena, and they taught him a lesson.’ She gave a small sigh and for a moment her beautifully made-up face looked drawn and tired.
After half an hour she stood up, saying, ‘You seem no worse, Helena – and that woman is obviously a competent housekeeper – remember what I have told you, always be prepared to pay for good service, it’s well worth it.’
‘Yes, Mother.’ Then I dared to add, ‘It was Ben who arranged Mary’s wages – and he quite agrees with you.’
I saw the flicker of surprise in her eyes, then she said dryly, ‘I doubt whether his motives were in agreement with mine, however – since he proclaims himself a socialist.’ And for
a moment we almost smiled at each other. Then her expression changed to one of distaste as she noticed the black smut on her grey suede gloves, and she turned towards the door. My hand groped for the non-existent bell, then I remembered to call, and Mrs Grimshaw came swiftly through from the kitchen and showed my mother the three paces out to the front door.
I saw the relief on Mary Grimshaw’s face as she came back out of the lobby. ‘Mrs Grimshaw – please do make a fresh pot of tea and sit down and join me.’ She demurred a moment, and I added awkwardly, ‘I know you were at school with Ben, so…’ Then she understood and went to do my bidding and came back and sat rather primly down on the chair my mother had vacated. She was obviously unsure of herself until in desperation I asked after her children, and at once her eyes lit up and she began to talk, her face vivid and alive.
By the time she left that day I could picture nine year-old Mab – ‘Who’s such a help round the house – so steady-like,’ and Frank and Joe, ‘very close in age and typical lads – but not an ounce of vice in them,’ and Betsy, ‘Born after Jim’s last leave, afore the shell took his legs.’ Betsy, who was spoilt by her father and who teased the cat and was so naughty she drove her mother to distraction – but Mary smiled as she spoke of Betsy.
As I sat waiting for Ben I remembered that it would soon be Christmas, and when we had eaten our meal I asked him if he would take me down to Ainsclough in a cab the next day – if he were back in time. He looked doubtful and sat stroking his chin for a while, then admitted he would probably be on the Pilley Bob next day, so it might be managed. But only if I slept well and he was sure I would not tire myself, he added hastily.
So on the following afternoon he took me, well wrapped up, down to the toyshop, and I sat on a chair by the counter and chose presents for Mab, and Frank and Joe – and naughty Betsy. I was stumbling with weariness by the time I got back and Ben said I must go to bed at once and have my meal on a tray – but I felt a small glow of achievement. Next morning I lay and thought of my parcels – then suddenly remembered Ben; I puzzled over what to do, then decided to write a letter as soon as I got up, to Sherratt’s in Manchester, and send Mary Grimshaw out to the post with it at once.
That afternoon she took a bundle of washing with her as she left. I said, ‘Mrs Grimshaw – that’s too much to do as well as your own – we’ll send ours to the laundry.’
‘Laundry’ll ruin this fine linen – they can’t be trusted – besides…’ Her round face flushed. ‘It’s Jim as does them.’
I was astonished, ‘Your husband! But, surely…’
‘You see, my lady, afore Ben asked me to come here I used to take in washing – to try and make ends meet – and Jim, well, his arms are as strong as ever, so he’d bash away with posser, and turn mangle for me – he wanted to help, it made him feel less of a burden – I even taught him to use iron. And Ben knows that, so when he came and asked me if I’d oblige you he said if Jim wanted to do washing, for extra like, then he’d be grateful. And Jim were right pleased – it gives him a bit of his own, see. He manages champion, he can get about with crutches and he wedges himself against wash-house wall on a chair. He makes a lovely job of it, but he can’t hang out, of course, so on washing day I wondered if I could just run home for a while…’
‘Of course you can, Mrs Grimshaw. You must organize the day however you please – we’re truly grateful for all you’re doing.’
The day before Christmas Eve, Ben asked rather awkwardly, ‘Do you mind if we manage ourselves on Christmas Day and Boxing Day? Mary’s willing to come in, but she’s got the four childer – and I’m off both days…’
‘Yes Ben – of course we can manage.’ But I felt a little shy – we would not have been on our own together for so long since I had come out of the nursing home.
On Christmas morning Ben brought up my early cup of tea and after I had drunk it I dressed in a fine cashmere frock and went slowly downstairs, clinging to the rail, all by myself. He swung round as I came into the kitchen. ‘Lass, you should have called me!’ Then he smiled. ‘But I’m glad to see you down so soon – I’ve got summat for you.’
He held a tissue-wrapped package out to me, and stood over me as I undid it, his face quite pink and anxious. Nestling inside the tissue was a white satin blouse, embroidered with pale pink rosebuds. I stroked the soft sheen of it. ‘Thank you Ben – it’s beautiful – thank you so much. I’ll put it on today – I’ll run upstairs and change at once.’
He beamed at me. ‘You’re not up to running anywhere yet, lass – I’ll fetch a skirt for you; you can dress down here in the warm, and save yourself the stairs.’ He thundered up the stairs and came down panting, clutching a dark-blue serge skirt. ‘I’ll wait in front room.’
The blouse was a little too full over my breasts, but I tucked a pleat into my waistband at the back and when he came and looked at me his face shone with pride. ‘You look lovely, lass – really lovely.’
As I felt my cheeks blushing I said quickly, ‘Ben, there’s something for you – a brown paper parcel in the bottom of the alcove in my bedroom – perhaps you could bring them down, they’re a little heavy for me.’ His face lit up and he rushed up the stairs again.
He unwrapped the set of gardening books I had bought for him, delicately fingering the gold embossing on the spines and then turning the pages and exclaiming over the coloured plates of fruit and vegetables. When he looked up his face was tender. ‘I wasn’t expecting nothing, lass, with you being so poorly like – and now I’m right thrilled, I can hardly wait to start reading ’em.’ He came towards me, hesitant, until I held up my face; his warm lips gently touched my cheek. ‘Thanks, lass, thanks.’
And I felt a little bubble of happiness well up – only a very fragile bubble, so I scarcely dared acknowledge it – but for a moment I knew it was there.
Sitting at the table I helped to prepare the vegetables while Ben bustled over the stove – we were comfortable together, like a brother and sister. I ate every scrap on my plate and then we dozed for a while in the armchairs in front of the warm range, until it was time to do the washing up. I wanted to help – he told me not to, the scullery was cold – but I managed, holding the glass cloth carefully. But then I tried to be too clever – I picked up two plates at once and they both slipped and fell, shattering on the stone-flagged floor. I stared at the pieces, tears filling my eyes. ‘Oh Ben – I’m so clumsy – I’m useless, useless.’
‘Aye, lass – so you are. In fact, I’m thinking that when rag-bone man comes round next week I’ll put you on cart and let him take you away – I reckon a pretty lass like you should be worth half a dozen donkey stones!’ I looked at his face and saw the quiver of his lips, and swallowing my tears managed to smile back at him. He put his arms round me and hugged me tightly for a moment, then he guided me into the parlour. ‘Put your feet up, sweetheart – I’ll finish clearing up.’
And as my eyelids drooped I saw a tiny clear picture of myself, perched high up on the rag-bone man’s cart as he rattled down Royds Street – while Ben stood at the doorway of No. 10, clutching a fistful of grey donkey stones. I smiled a little before I slept.
On Boxing Day morning Ben told me Ivy and Ada were coming to see us. ‘Just the two of ’em – they’ve been asking how you were, and they wanted to come – only for an hour or two.’ I was nervous what would they think of me? Last summer I had ignored their friendly advances after those first two visits, had made their brother unhappy and then lied to him as I left him. How would they greet me now?
They arrived together – Ivy in sealskin, Ada in broadcloth; Ivy had her two elder grandchildren clinging to a hand apiece. ‘They would come – said they hadn’t seen their Uncle Ben for so long.’ They threw themselves on him and he laughed. ‘How about a walk then, the pair of you?’
After the bustle of their departure it was suddenly quiet in the small parlour. Ivy looked at Ada, cleared her throat and leant forward. ‘Lass, we’re right glad to see you up and about again �
�� we’ve been so worried for you.’ Their round grey-blue eyes gazed at me in concern – I had never realized before how like Ben they were.
I swallowed and murmured, ‘Thank you – I’m – much better now – thank you.’
Ivy said, ‘Ben came and told us – what it were like for you nurses in war – what you had to do. So it’s no wonder it all got on top of you – you deserve a rest now.’
‘And you’re such a frail slight lass – working all hours God sent – and having to do all that lifting as well,’ Ada broke in.
I smiled back at them. ‘I really am much stronger than I look – much stronger.’ And as I spoke I realized with a small shock of surprise that it was true. There was a pause, then I asked, ‘How is Fanny? And your other children?’
They chattered on, one interrupting the other, sparring together in an easy friendly fashion until Ben came back with the rosy-cheeked boy and girl and put the kettle on.
As they left Ivy bent over me and whispered, ‘Now, lass, you be firm with our Ben – no canoodling until you’re right again – babbies wear you out even when you’re well.’ My face flushed as she turned towards the door.
Ben waved them off, then clicked the door to. I watched him as he came back into the room: a well-built man, with broad shoulders and a straight back – a man I trusted, a man I felt affection for – but my woman’s body did not flicker as he stood looking down at me. His hand touched my hair for a moment, then he bent down to pick up the tea tray and carry it through into the kitchen.
Those winter days I liked to lie in bed of a morning when I woke early, listening to the rattle of doors and the clatter of clogs as people dashed across their yards in the frosty air. Then I would doze off again until Mary came and I heard the sound of the fire irons as she attended to the range, followed by her footsteps on the stairs as she carried up my morning cup of tea and the jug of hot water. I washed and dressed quickly, but it was never as cold in the small bedroom as it had been in the big draughty bedchambers at Hatton – Ben would bank up the fire last thing at night if he was in, so often there was still a small red glow in the morning.
Song of Songs Page 70
