By that time, Florence was even cooking the meals. Virginia began to feel as if she had moved into another life. A life that was gradually becoming a waking nightmare. Every day her true life, the only life she wanted—her life with Nicholas—was disappearing further and further into the past. She longed for him, ached for him, made love to him in her dreams over and over and over again.
To make the nightmare worse, the situation between Florence and herself was becoming more and more of a problem. Their roles had been reversed—Florence was trying to look after her now. ‘Just you sit down and relax, Virginia,’ she kept saying. ‘Enjoy this drink while I put the finishing touches to dinner.’
Normally Virginia and Nicholas ate in the kitchen, but Florence now insisted on doing everything ‘properly’. They sat at opposite ends of the long dining room table. Florence always wearing her best dress for dinner along with her pearl earrings and necklace.
‘Isn’t this lovely,’ she would coo, ‘just like in a film.’ Everything had to be done properly. And while every day Florence grew stronger and happier, Virginia became more and more depressed.
‘Virginia, you’re looking tired, and no wonder. You’re on your feet all day. Just you sit back and listen to the wireless now while I clear up.’
Eventually, in desperation, Virginia spoke to Matheson about the situation. And not just about the situation with Florence. She got everything off her chest. He knew that Nicholas was staying at his mother’s place, but she’d originally told Matheson it was because Nicholas’s mother was ill and needed him there.
‘You what?’ Matheson’s voice raised incredulously.
‘I had an affair with a doctor at the hospital and Nicholas found out.’
‘Well,’ Matheson said, ‘I can only say I know just how Nicholas feels. You once did the same to me, remember.’
‘Oh, James, that was different. I thought Nicholas was dead when I married you, and I’d been his lover long before I met you.’
‘Are you still seeing this man?’
‘Since I’ve been back at work, I’ve seen him, but not on his own. The affair’s finished. It was a terrible mistake, James. I was just feeling so lonely and neglected.’
‘I told you before what I think of that attitude. It’s Nicholas I feel sorry for.’
She felt an unexpected surge of her old fighting spirit. ‘Oh, that’s right. Stick up for him as usual. I know I have my faults, James, but I can assure you Nicholas isn’t as blameless as you always make him out to be. He’s as much responsible for our break-up as I am.’
After a brief silence, Matheson said, ‘Do you want him back?’
‘Of course I want him back.’
‘Well, don’t just sit there talking to me about it. Go and talk to him. Get him back. And do something about that girl. I’m surprised at you letting her take you over so much. Why don’t you tell her it’s time she was back in Copeland & Lye’s.’
‘I’m exhausted most days when I get home from the Royal, and I’m glad of her help in the house. But she can be so irritating sometimes.’
She watched Matheson limping about the kitchen and putting two cups and saucers on the table. Recently he’d grown a moustache and beard, and it helped to disguise his twisted face. His hair was white, but thick and glossy, and he looked fitter than he’d done since he’d had his stroke. The fact that he was still teaching, she felt sure, had helped take his mind off his disability and keep him going.
He was right about what she should do about her marriage. After all, she’d fought for Nicholas before and won. If she was worth her salt, she should at least make an attempt to fight for him again. She determined to call at the Cartwright villa right away.
As soon as she’d had a cup of tea with Matheson, she set out to do just that. The builders had made a good job of reroofing the house; nevertheless it now had an odd, stunted, look. Virginia wondered if it would be Mrs Cartwright who came to the door. If so, she knew she would be lucky if the old woman allowed her in. She would have been milking the situation for all she was worth. Getting her son away from her former scullery maid was, after all, what Mrs Cartwright had always wanted.
Virginia realised that she could have waited until the weekend, when Nicholas usually called in to see Wincey, but it was difficult trying to speak to him at any length, on his own, in those circumstances. Far better to face him and have it out with him right now.
She gave the bell a strong pull. It made an eerie jangle that seemed to echo all through the house.
Mrs Cartwright’s house had always been gloomy, filled as it was with dark, Victorian furniture. An elderly woman in an apron made of coarse sacking material and carrying a pail of water in one hand opened the door.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I was just coming out to scrub the front steps.’
‘I’m Mrs Cartwright’s daughter in law.’
‘Oh, right. You’d better come in then. But she’s having a wee rest just now.’
‘Is Mr Nicholas Cartwright in?’
‘Aye, I think so.’
Once inside the hall, Virginia caught sight of Nicholas emerging from the room she remembered as the Cartwright library. No doubt he was now using it as his writing room.
‘Has something happened to Richard?’ he asked anxiously.
‘No, no, he’s fine.’
‘Or Wincey?’
‘No, she’s fine too. I just came to talk to you, Nicholas. We need to talk.’
‘Come through to the drawing room.’
Following him through to a room across the other side of the hall, she couldn’t help thinking, ‘Oh, nothing’s changed then. I mustn’t interfere with your precious writing.’
With some difficulty, she controlled her feelings. This attitude had become at least part of the problem in their marriage. For years now, she had been jealous of Nicholas’s writing. Or at least the time and priority he gave to it. It had become a downward spiral. And her resentful attitude had only made him withdraw more and more into his work.
‘Drink?’ He raised a questioning brow.
She nodded and sat down on one of the uncomfortable horse-hair chairs beside the fireplace. The empty grate was fronted by an ornate folding screen. The room had a fousty smell and felt as if neither a fire nor the sun had ever penetrated its chilly atmosphere.
‘Thank you.’
She accepted the gin and tonic and took a few sips before breaking the silence. ‘Nicholas, I don’t want to excuse my behaviour. I’m sorry I was unfaithful to you. It was a terrible mistake. Rightly or wrongly—probably wrongly—I was feeling lonely and neglected. We hardly ever saw each other. You were always either shut away in your writing room, or out doing some sort of war work.’
‘You were out working too.’
‘I know. Most of the fault is mine. I admit that for years I’ve been jealous and resentful of the time you’ve spent at your writing. But I felt I didn’t matter to you any more.’
‘That’s nonsense, Virginia.’
‘Maybe, but that’s what I felt. Think about it, Nicholas. Try to think honestly about the priority you gave to your work, and the time you shut yourself away from me.’
He hesitated. ‘Maybe latterly.’
‘Yes, and I was thinking that’s probably been my fault too. The more angry and resentful I became, the more you shut yourself away. I’m so sorry, Nicholas. I’m so sorry for how everything’s gone wrong between us and I bitterly regret my part in what’s happened.’ She struggled for calmness and composure. ‘I keep remembering how happy we used to be at the beginning. Surely that makes it worth trying again.’
Suddenly, remembering it again, she burst into a flood of tears. ‘Oh, Nicholas, please forgive me. I’m so miserable without you.’
He sighed, then came towards her, arms outstretched. ‘What a couple of fools we’ve been. I’m as much at fault as you for everything that’s happened.’
‘Have you thought about me at all since you’ve been here?’
&nbs
p; ‘Thought about you? Of course I’ve thought about you. I’ve thought about you all the time. I’ve just been too proud and stubborn, I suppose, to do what you’ve just done.’
He drew her towards the door. ‘Come on, I want to show you something.’
To her surprise, he led her towards the library and then inside the room. A desk was scattered with books and papers. He picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to her. ‘How do you think I got the inspiration for that? As you know, I haven’t written poetry for years, but I wrote this after visiting Kirklee Terrace one weekend.’
It was a poem, headed Creator and she read:
I lived here, I had been in here.
And if my intuition is right,
I loved you long ago,
I had bought this book in the tiny antique shop
In the old town,
I was touching those yellow pages,
I was sensing fragrant flowers of wisdom.
I was drinking wine and water together with you,
I was watching the twilight,
I was sitting in a straw chair,
I was cradled on the waves in the ocean,
Somebody wanted me to miss this rough water for the rest of my life …
I had felt this bitterness of wind in April,
I lived here, I had been in here.
And if I had been here,
One rainy day,
When everybody had forgotten I was here,
I will come again,
It would be the wonderful act of the Creator,
To repeat everything once more
Saying that nothing is wasted in this world,
And you will love me again,
And I would not complain about my destiny.
It brought home to her so vividly what a uniquely talented man he was.
‘It’s beautiful, Nicholas. Thank you for sharing it with me.’
Nicholas said, ‘This is what we always used to do, remember? Share everything.’
She sighed. ‘Yes, if only we could get back to the way we were in those days.’
‘We could try,’ he said. ‘Maybe this is the first step.’
She gazed hopefully up at him. ‘Does that mean you’ll come back?’
‘Yes, if you still want me.’
‘More than anything else in the world, Nicholas. I’ll give up my work if you like.’
‘Not at all. Not unless you want to. But maybe it would help if we could both cut down on the hours we spend at work. And I include my writing in that. Now you get back home and leave me to break the news to Mother. It won’t be easy. You know what she’s like. I’ll have to be very firm.’
He kissed her lightly on the cheek, grinned and said, ‘I’m not going to kiss you properly just now, because I know within a few seconds we’d be rolling on the carpet. But look out lady, I’ve got a lot of passionate love making time to make up for.’
Virginia hadn’t felt so happy and excited for years. She could have danced her way back to Kirklee Terrace. She almost had an orgasm at the thought of living with Nicholas again. But as soon as she stepped inside into the now immaculate hall, heavy with the pungent odour of Mansion polish, she remembered the other problem she had to tackle. This one might prove more difficult—in the sense that Florence’s stay at Kirklee had become her buffer against her terrible loss. Maybe it was her only lifeline now.
How can I take it away from her, Virginia thought. Yet they couldn’t go on as they were, especially with Nicholas returning.
As soon as Florence saw her, she rushed to put on the kettle. The kitchen used to have a homely feel about it, with herbs hanging from a beam on the ceiling, old cushions softening the seats of the wooden chairs, newspapers lying about, shopping lists pinned to the wall, and pictures of Wincey and Richard propped up in front of a cocoa tin. Now everything was bare and sterile. Even the photographs had been tucked neatly away in an album in the sitting room.
‘You must be tired out, Virginia. Dinner won’t be long but you can relax with a cup of tea now. On you go through to the sitting room. I’ll bring it to you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Virginia assured her. ‘I went to see my husband and I’m happy to say his mother is all right now and he’s returning home this evening.’
‘Oh, I’ll set another place for dinner, then,’ Florence said happily. ‘I must give that table an extra polish to have everything nice for him.’
Virginia groaned inside. Florence meant well, but she was such a silly girl. Couldn’t she even see that she and Nicholas needed to be alone together? What did either of them care about a table, polished or otherwise.
‘I tell you what,’ Virginia said. ‘How about if you went to visit your mother and father this evening? You haven’t seen them for a while, Florence. You mustn’t neglect your own folks.’
‘But your dinner,’ Florence protested.
‘I’ll see to the dinner, Florence. I’d really like to do everything for Nicholas tonight. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had the chance.’
‘Oh well, if you’re sure.’ Florence sounded far from sure.
‘Yes, definitely, Florence. Stay overnight. There’s no need to struggle back through the blackout. Now please,’ she raiseda hand, ‘do as I say, Florence. I’m not going to take no for answer.’
Reluctantly, Florence agreed, and after she was gone, Virginia danced around the house forgetting, in her new found joy, that Florence would soon be back.
32
‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ Wincey told her mother and father. ‘It’s just so wonderful to see you both together and happy again.’ It was also disturbing. There was such a strong sexual chemistry sparking between them. It was in the way they looked at one another and in the way they touched, and they were always touching. Wincey was genuinely glad that they were happy together but the strong sexual element forever sizzling in the air made her shrink into herself. One day she’d been coming into the sitting room and had seen her mother sitting loose limbed on a chair. Her father was leaning over the back of it and sliding his hand down the inside of her mother’s blouse to cup her breast. Her mother’s eyes were closed, her face uptilted in ecstasy. Wincey had drawn back unseen and stood in the hall for a few minutes in something akin to distress and fear. She was reminded how she had only loved Robert Houston with words, never with actions. She felt like weeping, desperately wanting to love and be loved, but unable and afraid to break through the protective barrier she’d built around herself.
Later Virginia managed a whispered few words with Wincey while Florence was through in the kitchen fetching the tea trolley.
‘Darling, what am I going to do about Florence? I don’t want to hurt her or anything, and I appreciate what a wonderful help she is in the house, but she has got rather carried away, don’t you think?’
‘It’s your own fault, you should never have allowed her to go this far, Mother.’
Virginia sighed. ‘I know. I know.’
‘Your mother was only trying to help the girl,’ Nicholas said. ‘I’ve offered to have a word with her, but she won’t hear of it.’
‘Let me handle it then,’ Wincey said. ‘Florence and I are like sisters. I know her better than anybody.’
Just then Florence came bright eyed and smiling into the room, the trolley bumping and chinkling before her. She had discarded her bandeau and apron and changed into her best afternoon dress of cinnamon coloured wool. She was wearing a little string of pearls and her hair was brushed smooth and curled neatly in at the ends. She looked flushed and extremely pretty.
‘Tea everyone?’
‘I’ll pour.’ Virginia moved forward.
‘No, no, I can manage,’ Florence said. ‘Sit down and relax, Virginia.’
Wincey felt the air immediately become tense, but obviously Florence was unaware of it. She was very ladylike in the way she poured out the tea and handed china teacups and tiny cakes around.
‘A new recipe,’ she informed everyone as she settl
ed down with her teacup and raised pinky. ‘Dried eggs, of course, but I find it very good. And some porridge oats, would you believe. Do have another one, Nicholas. They’re very small, I know, but they look so dainty, don’t they. Appearance is important, I always think. In food as well as in everything else. I just refuse to do as everyone else is doing now and make a coat out of army blankets or a dress out of curtain material. I’d rather go on wearing my old, good quality garments. Purchased in Copeland’s, you know.’
‘I was just saying to Mother,’ Wincey told Florence, ‘that she and Father should treat themselves to an evening out tonight to celebrate. They could have a meal somewhere and then go to the pictures.’
‘But I’ve got dinner all planned. It’s vegetable soup, spam and salad and uncooked chocolate cake,’ Florence protested.
‘Sounds great. I’ll stay and have dinner with you and we can have a long talk like old times.’
‘Good idea,’ Nicholas said, lifting his newspaper. ‘Let’s see what’s on.’
Virginia smiled over at Florence. ‘Your mother would be pleased to see you the other night. And Erchie and Granny.’
‘Yes, although poor Granny is getting very frail.’
‘Wonderful spirit though.’
‘Oh yes. I have to laugh at her at times.’
‘I must pay her a visit soon, Florence. Next week I’m on late shift but I could drop in one afternoon, perhaps.’
‘No, no, Virginia. That would be too tiring for you. Better they come here for morning coffee, or lunch perhaps. That way I could organise everything and save you any bother.’
‘It’s no bother going to visit friends, Florence. I enjoy it.’
Wincey could see that her mother was struggling to be patient. ‘Why don’t you go and get ready, Mother?’
‘Yes.’
Nicholas rose too. ‘And I’ll see about booking a table.’
‘We should do this more often,’ Nicholas told Virginia, taking her into his arms the moment they reached the bedroom.
Virginia smiled. ‘We do it all the time.’
Nicholas tutted at her in mock reproof. ‘Treat ourselves to a meal out and a show at least once a week, I mean.’
Clydesiders at War Page 19
