Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  I stood like an obedient statue as the sickly yellow lights of Blackburn station flared out either side of us. Then two pairs of broad shoulders blocked the light again, shielding me, until the guard’s whistle blew, and Ben reached for his levers and we were off again. The curving line of the fire was white now from the heat inside as we ran over the town and out towards Ainsclough – towards home.

  We heard the porter shouting, ‘Ainsclough! Ainsclough! All change ’ere.’ Ben grunted, ‘That’s Ernie by sound of it – he’ll not give us away – still, with a bit of luck he won’t even notice.’ He clamped on the brake then swung out of the cab and down on to the platform. ‘Come on, lass.’ I was down into his arms, his warm mouth was on mine and we clung together for a moment – then he released me quickly. ‘Off you go – I’ll be home in half an hour.’

  ‘Goodbye, Ben,’ I called softly back as I headed for the barrier – and as soon as I reached it I turned and waved – the engine whistle pooped in answer, then the guard’s green lamp swung out, his shrill whistle blew and the monster began to move away from me. I felt quite bereft – but Ben would be coming home to me soon. I fumbled for my ticket, then walked swiftly down the ramp and out of the station.

  Chapter Five

  As I pushed open the front door I was quivering with excitement, but when I looked at the clock of course it was too early – he would not be home yet. I almost ran through to the kitchen and attacked the range; it glowed and flared up and I stood gazing at the flames, mesmerized – for a moment I was back on the swaying footplate, feeling the heat from the white-hot heart of the monster. But the monster was just a game – the man who had controlled it was not; and he would be home soon with his broad shoulders and strong hands; I shivered as excitement surged through me.

  Back in the parlour I sat down on the sofa – but I could not sit still. Jumping up I pulled off my hat and tossed it on to the top of the piano; as I shook my hair back I felt it freeing itself from its pins – but I did not care. It was warm in the small room so I shrugged off my coat and dropped it over the armchair. The blue sheen of my satin frock rippled as I moved; I ran my hands over the softness that clung to my hips and slid them round over my belly – it was sweet and full and as I stroked it I felt the pressure rise. I bent my head and murmured his name – he must come soon, my body was hungry for him.

  And then I heard him – his footsteps rang on the cobbles – he was half-running up the street and the pressure in my belly mounted as the pounding of his boots came nearer. He thrust the door open and stood in the lobby: a broad-shouldered man in faded blue overalls with a dirt-smeared face glistening with sweat. I ran to him. He laughed and caught my hands and held me away. ‘Lass, I’m mucky all over – I mun have me bath.’

  I was frantic, twisting and turning in his grasp, crying: ‘Let me go, let me go!’ His face stiffened, at once his hands released me – then I flung myself against him and buried my mouth in his neck, pressing my belly against him. In a moment I felt his arms hugging me tight as he whispered again, ‘Lass, I mun have me bath.’ But I pulled his mouth down to mine and found his lips and opened myself for him.

  When he drew away he laughed aloud and putting his hands under my behind swung me up off the floor while I twined my hands around his neck. He shouldered the door shut behind us. ‘Come on then, since you can’t wait let’s be having you.’

  He carried me over to the hearthrug and we collapsed in a heap together, then I was pulling at the buttons of his bib while his hands were already far up between my thighs, working at the fastenings of my suspenders inside the silk of my knickers. I squirmed at the touch of him as my own fingers fought with the strong material of his overalls, then I was crying his name as he swung me down – I opened my legs and slid under his heavy body, lifting myself for him: ‘Ben, Ben!’ And even as he entered me I lost control – I was crying and shuddering, raising my hips under him – I needed him deeper and deeper inside – my legs wound round his buttocks and I was thrusting as vigorously as he was now – and with each thrust our bodies locked into each other. All sense, all reason, had gone – I wanted him, how I wanted him. As he quickened I cried out: ‘Now, Ben – now!’ And heard his voice from far away shout triumphantly, ‘Now!’ as with a last great swoop he drove far inside me until my whole body seemed to be filled with his. And as he flowed into me the surging pressure in my belly rose and rose – but it would not explode and I was frantic with it – I sank my teeth into his bare neck and thrust myself against him again and again until at last, beyond all hope, I burst on to him and was lost.

  It was a long time before I opened my eyes; his were very close above me. I gazed up, bewildered and adrift, and he whispered, ‘Helena, lass – are you all right?’ I had no voice, I could only move my lips a little. He gathered me to his damp chest and stroked my hair, cradling me in his arms. He sat up, but I still lay quiescent against him, limp as a rag doll. Vaguely I saw the red teeth marks low down on his neck, and slowly began to remember. I reached out and touched where I had bitten him. ‘I’m sorry, Ben – I hurt you.’

  I felt the laughter vibrate in his chest. ‘I don’t reckon you did it on purpose, lass. You were in such a state, I’ve never seen owt like it. And then – well, it was as if you couldn’t take any more and you just passed out. It must have bin from th’excitement, but you had me afeared for a moment, I can tell you – I thought I’d been too rough with you. Give us a kiss lass, now you’ve woken up – there weren’t hardly time for it afore!’

  I raised my face and opened my mouth under his. Our tongues twined lazily together, then more urgently – I clung to him. When he drew back he was panting. He said, his voice thick, ‘Reckon I’d best get me bath – now you be a good lass and lay still for a moment.’ He unfastened my arms and put me back down on the rug. He stroked my bare behind for a moment, then left me. I did not move.

  I heard him filling pails in the kitchen, then he came back through to the parlour. I lay watching him walk towards me; he was completely naked and I could see the dark line of coal dust round his hips and the grimy V where his shirt opened. He knelt down and began to undress me.

  When I was as naked as him he picked me up and carried me through to the scullery, our damp skins clinging together. He sat me on the edge of the bath and kept one arm round my shoulder, holding me up while he clambered in. Then he pulled me suddenly in after him and I landed with a splash to the sound of his laughter. Sliding his arms round my waist he pulled me back close against his chest; his large legs were either side of me, gripping my hips. ‘Now you mun wash me and I’ll wash you.’ He handed me the soap and I began to slowly rub his legs – and as I did so I felt his own warm wet hands caressing my breasts. I wriggled away and reached down to tickle his feet – he began to squirm behind me. ‘Eh – lass – stop it!’ Then his fingers were in my armpits and I was squirming too, giggling and trying to dodge away, but there was no room and at last he held me pinned tightly against him and we laughed together like two children playing – until I felt the pressure of his maleness on my back and my belly flared up in reply – and we were not children any longer, but man and woman.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart – let’s have you out.’ I stood still for him as he towelled me dry, then he rubbed himself rapidly down, swung me quickly up in his arms and carried me up to the front bedroom.

  This time he moved slowly inside me; each gentle thrust caressed me and I smiled with pleasure and held him tight until he was ready, feeling the warm satisfaction well up as he emptied himself into me.

  I was drifting into sleep when I felt him begin to chuckle – then he threw back his head and shook with laughter. When he had stopped he kissed me, saying, ‘I’ve seen for weeks now you were almost ready, but I didn’t know what to do to bring you up to it, like – I thought of all sorts, some daft ideas I had – but one as never crossed me mind was taking you for a ride on footplate of a radial tank – and that’s what did trick!’ He laughed again, then his hand slid
down to rest comfortably between my legs as his lips brushed mine. ‘Go to sleep, sweetheart.’ I turned a little so that I was sprawling across his warm hard body – and fell asleep.

  But when I awoke I was suddenly frightened; I was lying naked beside this man – this man who was no longer a friend, a brother – but a husband again. And a husband who would make demands of me: expect loyalty, obedience – and love. And that above all I could not give him – my heart had died with my dreams of Gerald; I would never love again.

  He stirred beside me, his hand slid up between my thighs and I was already slippery to his touch – because my body was opening to him; as it had done last summer, over and over again – when I had hated him even as I coupled with him. And now I whispered, ‘No, Ben, no –’ but he grunted and heaved himself on top of me. ‘Don’t be daft, lass – you’re as ready as I am,’ and even as I whispered ‘No,’ my legs were twining themselves round his and my hips were lifting for him and I cried out and caught at him and moaned until we were both spent.

  Then he tried to pull me to him, but I thrust him away: ‘Leave me alone, leave me alone!’ I flung myself out of bed, stumbled across to the back bedroom and slammed the door; then I began to pull on my clothes, weeping. I heard his hand on the latch: ‘Go away!’ When he had gone back into the other bedroom I crept downstairs to sit huddled over the kitchen table, the tears still on my face. How could I live like this with a man I did not love – taking his body into mine night after night, as I had done last summer – taking him casually, carelessly, as a man does a whore – as I had done last summer?

  I heard his footsteps on the stairs and he entered in his shirtsleeves and braces, with his chin unshaven – I backed away. ‘It’s all right, lass – I won’t touch you.’ He dropped heavily down on to the chair opposite me. ‘Sit down again, Helena – it’s time we had a talk, you and me.’ I sank back into the chair. He cleared his throat, his eyes were fixed on mine. ‘Helena, when you were lying there in hospital – and no one knowing if you’d ever come alive again – ever want to be alive again – then I made a promise.’ He swallowed: his voice was thick. ‘I promised that if, if you got well again – then I’d offer you your freedom.’

  ‘But – I’m your wife, Ben.’

  ‘Aye – but there’s ways round that – your mother made that very clear to me while you were ill. You see, I forced you to marry me, Helena – I trapped you like a butterfly in a net; you never had no choice. So now I’m offering you choice: do you want to stay – or go?’

  I thought of Hatton, and the life I had been born to; I was well now, I could go back. Then I looked at the man in front of me, in his heavy braces and union shirt – and saw how the sweat stood out on his forehead as he waited for my answer. At last I said, ‘But Ben – you’ve been so kind to me…’

  ‘Helena, I weren’t kind to you on the moors that day – I were a bastard, a selfish bastard. I didn’t mean it to be like that, I swear it; I meant to court you proper. It didn’t seem too impossible in war – we were up to our eyes in muck together, comrades, like. But afterwards… I went to Hareford, you know, when I come back – I thought I might happen to see you, in town. But when I asked on station they said Family was away – might not be back till Christmas – and that made me realize – there’s only one Family round there, and that was yours. I went a bit wild after that I suppose it were because of war, too – seeing all me mates killed in front of me – I did some stupid things then. But every week I used to go down library and look through Times – to see if you were going to be wed. I’d walk in with me heart in me mouth – and come out like a man with a reprieve. And then I saw you in Manchester, and you introduced me to your sister and invited me to your home – and I thought, there’s still a chance. And your brother, the Captain, I told him how I felt –’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Well, I’m not saying he were in favour – but he weren’t against, Helena. We’d been through a lot together, him and me – we trusted each other. I knew he’d do what he could. But next time I came I saw he were dying. I knew what it’d do to you, losing him – and when it happened it were worse than I ever dreamt. I didn’t know what to do to help you – and no one else seemed to care. When I invited you on tops, I didn’t mean it to happen way it did – I swear that, Helena. But soon as you got off train that day – you were all soft and loving, almost as if you were my girl.’ Your mill girl, Ben – your mill girl. ‘So suddenly I thought there was hope. And I carried you over stream as if you were most precious thing in world – you were the most precious thing in the world, Helena – and always will be, whatever you decide today. But then, you changed – put me at a distance; and yet, I knew you still wanted a man; I could smell it on you.’ Like a bitch on heat. ‘I suppose it were only natural – you’d seen a death, now you wanted the other. I knew by then it weren’t me – any man would have done.’ Like Rory Foster in the fern house. ‘But, I were tempted, and – But I still don’t know if – It were that crack you made about me making a good footman, Helena, that were what made me mind up, I thought: That’s it, my lass, I’m going to have you before th’afternoon’s out – and I did. I felt bad afterwards, especially when I saw bloodstains – but I knew I’d have done same again, if I’d had the chance. Because I wanted you, Helena – I wanted you so much. But I never asked whether you wanted me.’ He looked at me, his face set. ‘But I’m asking now, Helena – I’m giving you choice.’ He paused, then added hesitantly, ‘Could you – do you think, mebbe – you could come to feel something for me?’

  And I saw the love and longing in his face, and my heart was pierced with pity – because I did not know how to reply. I moved restlessly in my chair, and as I did so I felt the stickiness on my thighs, where his seed had slipped out of my womb. ‘Ben – last night – this morning – I may be with child.’

  I saw the hope blaze up in his eyes, and knew that would be my answer. I could not decide – but my body would. ‘Shall we wait and see, Ben?’

  ‘You’d stay then, would you lass – for the child’s sake?’

  ‘Yes, Ben – I’d stay then.’ I stood up. ‘Go and have your shave, while I cook the breakfast.’

  *

  We did not talk about it again; I lived only in the present. But as the time of my monthly bleeding loomed I became nervous and uncertain; when he came in from work I would run to him and kiss him – then pull abruptly away and rush into the kitchen. And he was on edge too: I saw him watching closely as I dressed in the morning – and whenever I came back from the yard he would glance up at me, then look quickly away.

  As we sat in the parlour one evening he suddenly said, ‘You’re late.’

  I snapped, ‘I’ve been late before.’ I heard him sigh as he went back to his paper. We were awkward and ill at ease with each other.

  Now when he took me at night he was very gentle; I did not explode under him any more, and as his arms pulled me to him I was not sure if I wanted him inside me at all – but once he was there I did not want him to go, and clung to him long after he had finished, until our bodies became hot and sticky with sweat. One night when he finally slipped out of me I began to cry, and he hugged me to him until I could hardly breathe, whispering, ‘Helena lass, oh Helena lass – I wish you’d been born in Clegg Street.’

  Next day in the kitchen I broke a cup and the tears filled my eyes and I began to sob. He lifted me on to his lap saying, ‘Helena, sweetheart – don’t fret, there’s a good lass.’ But I was fretting and so was he; I did not want to have to decide; I wanted my body to take this decision for me.

  The next morning I woke feeling wretched and ill; I pushed my hand fearfully down between my legs, then brought it up – but there was no blood on my fingers. He was still sleeping beside me and I slid my hand cautiously on to my belly; it was not cramping but it was not comfortable either. I turned slightly and suddenly my stomach lurched and my throat closed and I was throwing myself out of the bed and over to the washstand. I was only
just in time – with a great heave I vomited into the basin, then stood swaying and coughing, the vile taste of it in my mouth and nose. He came up beside me and wiped my lips with the damp flannel. ‘I’ll fetch you a glass of water.’ When he came back I rinsed out my mouth and blew my nose – I felt weak and feeble, but more comfortable. He helped me back into bed and lay holding me close to his warm body. ‘Better now, lass?’

  ‘Yes, Ben – better.’

  ‘You’ll have to keep slop pail by bed – you only just made it today. And I’ll bring up jug of fresh water each night, so you can swill your mouth out – it could be a few weeks yet.’

  ‘Weeks, Ben?’

  ‘Afore you get over the sickness – I remember Ada saying she were four months gone last time, but mebbe you’ll be luckier.’ He laughed softly, and at last my numbed brain understood. I would never leave Ainsclough now.

  Chapter Six

  As his arms still held me, pictures flickered through my mind: the green parkland at Hatton; the great house glowing golden in the sun; brightly clad, elegant figures strolling on the terrace. I heard the sharp crack of the croquet mallet, the thud of tennis ball cn racket, and the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on the stable cobbles in the early morning. All this was taken from me now, and I felt the pang of its loss.

  The man holding me shifted slightly; one of his hands broke free and slid down on to my belly. He pressed it there a moment, gently, reverently, before heaving a great sigh of contentment. ‘This’ll be best Christmas present I’ve ever had, lass.’ He laughed almost shyly as he whispered. ‘Thank you, sweetheart, thank you.’ His mouth nuzzled my hair and I did not know whether he was thanking me for the child – or for staying: perhaps it was both. I still saw Hatton in its green parkland, but now I heard the voices of the gaily-clad guests: high, confident voices – witty and sharp-tongued with myself gauche and awkward among them. They would not miss my presence, but this man had longed for me to stay with him. I had seen his face light up at the sight of me when he came home from work, and he had turned to me eagerly, anxious to tell me the news of his day, and to hear of mine. Besides, I was his wife, and I was carrying his child.