by Jess Foley
‘No, I understand that. Well – I just hope everything goes all right for you this evening.’
‘Thank you.’ Ryllis gave a deep sigh. ‘But there was bad news in his letter.’ Shaking her head, she added, ‘He said he’s going up to London for a while, and won’t be back for a few weeks.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘He said he’s going off to work with his uncle again for a while. Nice for Tom, I suppose – but not so nice for me.’
At this moment the maid came over with her tray and placed before them tea in thick china cups. Ryllis waited till she had gone, then went on:
‘His folks want to see him do well for himself, of course, every parent would – and they’ll be glad also to get him away from me.’
‘Oh, they know about you now, do they?’
‘Yes. It couldn’t be kept long from them. It was bound to come out sooner or later.’ Ryllis clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I’m not good enough for him. I mean – look at me – a general maid. They want the best for him.’
How sadly ironic, Lydia thought. Ryllis’s story was almost the same as her own – and it was true, every mother in the world wanted the best for her son, and here were she and Ryllis, both falling short of what was required. How cruel the world could be. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said.
‘No.’ Sadly Ryllis shook her head. ‘There’s not much you can say, and you can’t really blame his parents, can you? If it were my son I think I’d feel the same. They want him to have the best future possible.’ She looked down at her tea, absently stirred it and then took a sip. As she replaced the cup in the saucer she said, ‘Anyway, we’ll have to wait and see what happens. I’m just afraid that he might never come back.’ She gave a little groan. ‘Oh, Lyddy, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.’
‘Well – let’s hope it won’t come to that,’ Lydia said. ‘You’re really fond of him, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, I am. I’m that fond. I love him, Lyddy. I love him.’
As the words rang softly in Lydia’s ears she could again hear herself saying almost the same thing about Guy. When she had spoken of him to Evie in Capinfell, so recently, she had used almost the same words.
As Ryllis raised her head, Lydia could see that the tears were back in her eyes. ‘Try not to let it upset you too much,’ she said. ‘Everything might be all right. Wait and see.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I must try to look on the bright side.’ Ryllis wiped at her eyes again and then, obviously making an effort to change the subject, asked, ‘Have you heard from Father?’
‘I saw him last weekend. Have you heard from him?’
‘I had a letter a couple of weeks back. A very short letter, though. He never has much to say. Was he well when you saw him?’
‘Yes, he’s fine. Still not happy with Mrs Harbutt, of course, but there, we never expected that he would be.’
‘When you write to him, you won’t mention my – my trouble to him, will you?’
‘Good heavens, of course I won’t.’
‘He wouldn’t understand.’
‘No, I doubt that he would.’ Neither, Lydia said to herself, would he understand anything about her own situation.
Ryllis leaned across the table a little and said in a very low murmur to Lydia, ‘I’m having other difficulties, you know, with Tom. . .’
‘Oh. . .?’
‘Yes, well. . .’ Ryllis lowered her gaze, avoiding Lydia’s eyes. ‘Just lately he – he wants to go further.’
‘Go further. . .?’
Ryllis shook her head, almost impatiently. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lyddy, you know what I’m talking about. I don’t need to explain.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes.’ Lydia gave a deep sigh. ‘Oh, dear. What can I say? I just – just want you to be all right.’
‘Yes, I’m sure, but I don’t know what to do.’
Lydia wanted to say, Well, of course you must say no, but who was she to lay down rules? With the position she was in, she was the last person who should be giving advice.
‘I haven’t,’ Ryllis said. ‘I haven’t given in to him. Although he wants me to, and sometimes I want to. I don’t mind telling you, it’s very difficult at times. I think to myself, If I don’t give way he’ll get bored with me and throw me over for someone else. So what do I do? Because at the same time I’m afraid. I’m afraid that if I do – give in to him – he’ll have no more respect for me. Men don’t, do they? That’s what I’m told, and I can see it happening. Though maybe it wouldn’t be that way with Tom.’
Ryllis’s words had caused a little stab of pain in Lydia’s heart. Could it be that Guy thought that way? Had she been too easy for him? Could he truly admire any girl who let herself go in that way?
‘I mustn’t forget the time,’ Ryllis was saying. ‘I mustn’t miss my coach.’
‘No, of course not.’ Lydia dipped into her bag and brought out her watch. ‘It’s time we went,’ she said.
When Lydia had paid the bill they went back out into the sunshine, and walked across to the coach stop where a woman and a child were already waiting. Five minutes later the coach came in.
As the coach emptied, Ryllis said, ‘I’m sorry to go like this, Lyddy.’
‘It’s all right. I understand.’
Lydia watched as Ryllis boarded the coach, and then stood at the roadside while the vehicle was driven away.
As she turned to set off back towards her lodgings she thought once again of the irony in the situation, and a further irony came with the fact that for all her intentions to speak of her own situation to Ryllis, she had not uttered one single word on the matter.
When she got back to Little Marsh Street, Lydia went up to her room and wrote to Evie.
Sunday, 17th August
Dear Evie,
I need to talk to you at the first possible opportunity. I have to say that I have met Guy’s mother, and matters have taken an unexpected turn. Are you going to be in Capinfell this weekend? If so, could we meet somewhere? I don’t particularly want to go home; I don’t think I can face Father just at the moment. Not with me continually being sick the way I am, and being so anxious all the time.
I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Please write back as soon as you can.
Lyddy
She would post the letter on the way to the store the next day.
She received a reply to her letter on Thursday. Evie wrote:
Dear Lyddy,
Thank you for your letter. I’m surprised to hear about your seeing Guy’s mother, and am curious as to how it could have happened. Anyway, with regard to the weekend, I’ve planned to visit Bill’s mother in Merinville on Sunday. I’m taking Hennie to see her. Why don’t we meet there, in Merinville? Let’s say that I’ll see you in the market square at four o’clock. I’ll wait on one of the benches outside the corn exchange. I’ll wait for half an hour. You can give me all the news then.
Evie
Lydia wrote back at once saying that she would be there.
When Sunday came, Lydia set out to catch the train to Merinville. Once there, she headed for the old corn exchange, a huge old building that jutted out into the square, with benches along two of its sides. Glancing up at the clock on the tower of the building, she saw that it was just ten minutes to four. She sat down on one of the benches on a side that was hidden from Mr Canbrook’s shop which was just a few yards away. It being Sunday, the shop was closed, but on the odd chance that he might decide to call at the premises, she would be hidden from his sight.
Lydia had to wait for only a few minutes and then there was Evie’s voice coming to her: ‘Lyddy – there you are,’ and Evie was moving towards her across the cobbles. She sat down on the bench at Lydia’s side. She was alone.
‘I thought you’d have Hennie with you,’ Lydia said. ‘Weren’t you taking her to visit your mother-in-law?’
‘I intended to,’ Evie said, ‘but Hennie’s not so well today. She got up a little peevish and snivelly
, so I decided to leave her at home with Mam.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps she’s coming down with a summer cold. Anyway, it gives you and me a better chance to talk together.’ She paused and asked tentatively, ‘I assume nothing has changed in your – situation?’
‘No – except now that I’m absolutely certain.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes. There is a baby.’ Lydia could hardly bear to utter the words, the acknowledgement of the fact. ‘There’s no question of it.’
Evie nodded. ‘Are you still being sick?’
‘Every morning. I don’t bring anything up. Which is not surprising, because usually it’s so long since I’ve eaten, but, oh, I get the most awful sicky feeling, and I kneel there, retching and feeling absolutely dreadful.’
‘I know what it’s like.’
‘I just hope Mrs Obdermann doesn’t hear me,’ Lydia said on a sigh. ‘Though I don’t think she will. Her bedroom is on the next floor down, and in any case, she rises a good deal earlier than I do, so I suppose she’s downstairs in the kitchen when I’m getting up. I can only hope it stays that way for a while.’
They sat there in silence for a few moments, then Evie said, ‘How was it that you – I’m curious to know – how did you come to meet Guy’s mother?’
‘Oh – yes. . .’ Lydia remained quiet for two or three seconds, framing her words, and then went on to tell how she had written to Guy, and of how, to her great surprise, she had received a response from his mother. When Lydia had finished relating the details of the meeting, Evie shook her head in wonder.
‘She opened and read your letter to him.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well – there’s a mother for you.’
‘I know. I was – shocked.’
‘I should think so.’ Evie nodded, then said, ‘And she gave you a cheque – for a hundred pounds.’
‘Yes.’
‘My God – so much money. What will you do with it?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘No. It’s in a drawer in my room.’
There were few people about, just the odd carriage passing, the occasional couple strolling by. After some moments Evie said, ‘So – what will you do now?’
‘I don’t know. Mrs Anderson made it clear that I have no future with her son. She made it very clear.’
‘And what about Guy? Where is he? Is there any chance of seeing him?’
‘No, he’s still out of the country. Still in Italy.’
‘But – but he should know about it.’
‘Yes, but how can I get in touch? There’s no point in my writing to him at his home or at the business. His mother would only intercede again.’
‘But he’s got to know.’
Lydia said nothing, but sat there with her eyes gazing off along the street.
‘What are you going to do?’ Evie said. ‘Have the baby without telling him?’
Lydia put her hands to her face, briefly covering her eyes. When she lowered them she said brokenly, ‘How can I have a baby? How could I support a child, and raise it without a husband? Oh, I know you have, and are doing so, and Hennie’s a credit to you, but it’s not the same for you. You were married. There was no shame attached to Hennie’s birth. Also, it’s not only that, the – the look of the thing – it’s the support, the finances. It’s – bringing it into the world and caring for it. Where would I live? I couldn’t raise a child on my own. And I’ve got no mother to care for it while I work for the necessary money – not like you.’
‘No, maybe not,’ Evie said. Her tone was sympathetic. ‘But what do girls do in such circumstances? There’s not a lot that can be done, is there, except the child can be fostered, or farmed out. That happens so much. You could find some nice woman to care for your babe, and pay a little each week for its upkeep. Girls do it all the time.’
Lydia frowned. ‘How awful,’ she said, ‘to have a child and have hardly a hand in its upbringing. To have it see someone else as its mother – I couldn’t bear it, I know I couldn’t.’
‘I know it’s not ideal – but there are not many options.’
‘In any case,’ Lydia said, ‘there’s still the shame it would bring, not only on me but on my father. He would never recover, I know it.’ In her mind’s eye she could see the desperate scenario. ‘No,’ she added, ‘he’d never get over it – and he would never forgive me for it either.’
‘He would forgive you, in time. Your father would forgive you anything.’
Lydia sighed. ‘Don’t be so sure.’
The silence fell again. Back and forth, before their eyes, the occasional townspeople went by. Lydia was not aware of them. At last she turned and said to Evie, ‘What am I going to do?’
Evie hesitated then said, ‘There is another way, of course.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Well – you haven’t got to have the baby.’
Lydia frowned. ‘I know what you are thinking.’
‘There are ways, there are means – of course there are.’ Evie was looking closely at her, searching her expression. Lydia said nothing.
After a moment Evie went on, ‘There’s a woman right here in Merinville. I know that for a fact. And you’ve got money. You’ve got the money from Guy’s mother.’
‘I wouldn’t use that,’ Lydia said at once. ‘I’d never use that.’
‘Well, whatever. . . I’m just telling you that there’s a way out. You’re not that far along, so it probably wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t doubt you’d soon recover.’
‘Do you – know anyone who’s had it done?’
‘No, I don’t but. . .’
Lydia gave a little shudder. ‘Oh, what a dreadful thought.’
‘I don’t know whether much pain is involved,’ Lydia said, ‘but girls have it done all the time. We all know that.’
Lydia said, ‘It’s not the – the pain, the discomfort. It’s also the fact that it’s – well – it’s getting rid of a life.’
‘Yes,’ said Evie. ‘I never said the decision was easy.’
Lydia thought, in her silence: How can this be – this conversation? We’re sitting here in the afternoon sunshine, talking about ending a life that is only just beginning, putting out a flame that is hardly more than a spark.
Evie studied Lydia’s face for a moment or two, then said, ‘I’m not suggesting you do it, you understand. I’m just telling you that it’s something that can be done. You have got a choice. Of sorts.’ With her last words she reached out and briefly pressed Lydia’s hand.
Grateful for the touch, Lydia gave a little nod, then said, ‘Yes. Yes, I know.’
Two pigeons flew down and began to strut about the ground, pecking amongst the cobbles. Lydia watched them for a few seconds then drawing up her breath, said:
‘This woman you said you know of. . . You say she’s here in Merinville.’
‘That’s right. I don’t know her address, but I can get it.’
‘And – can you get it soon?’
‘As soon as I get back home. My mother will know it.’
‘Do you know how much the woman charges?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘I haven’t got all that much,’ Lydia said. She paused, then added, ‘So you’ll get it for me, will you? The woman’s name and address?’
‘I’ll write to you with it straight away.’
‘Your mother – she won’t mention it to anyone else, will she?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘If it should get out, and get back to my father. . .’
‘Don’t worry, Lyddy. Don’t worry.’
Lydia nodded, relieved. They remained there on the bench, neither one speaking. There seemed to be nothing left to say. After a time, Lydia said dully, looking at the ground, ‘What time is your coach?’
‘I promised Hennie I’d be on the five o’clock. She and Mam are going to meet me at the Rising Sun.’
‘You’d best be off, then.’
‘I s’pose I had.’
‘You don’t want to miss it.’
‘No.’
And still Evie sat there, as if loath to leave her friend in her unhappiness. The moments ticked by. Lydia gave a sigh as if it were drawn up from her soul. ‘Go on home, Evie,’ she said. ‘Go on back to Hennie. I won’t come with you to the coach if you don’t mind.’
‘No, of course not.’
‘I’ll sit here for a minute, and then I’ll go and get my train.’
Lydia nodded, moved close to Evie on the bench and put her arms around her. ‘You’re a good friend,’ she said.
Evie pressed her closer in response. ‘I’ll try to write to you tonight,’ she said.
She gave Lydia’s hand a last squeeze and got up, the movement sending the pigeons flying up. The two young women wished one another goodbye, and then Evie left, stepping away over the cobbles.
After Evie had disappeared from her sight, Lydia turned on the bench and looked up above her at the clock on the little tower of the old corn exchange. A quarter to five. Her train was not due to leave for another forty-five minutes. She lowered her glance and leaned forward, head bowed, closing her eyes, her hands clasped on her knees. If Evie was true to her word, then she would write at once with the details of the woman who could help. The thought of it, that ‘help’, brought the sweat breaking out on her palms. There had been so many wretched stories of girls who had found themselves in unfortunate situations and who had sought such assistance from women who made their living operating in the cities’ back streets, girls who had suffered most dreadfully, and not rarely, from death by blood-poisoning. Lydia dreaded the thought of the ordeal before her, dreaded the thought of joining those legions of desperate young women, but what choice did she have?
Suddenly, with no warning at all, something touched at her clenched hands, making her start. She opened her eyes and saw before her the black, wet nose of a dog. With a start of alarm she drew back and saw the animal looking up at her with an eager, expectant gaze. Then, almost in the same moment, she realised the identity of the creature.
‘Tinny!’ She breathed the word, and the dog enthusiastically wagged its tail. ‘Tinny, what are you doing here?’ Reaching out, she patted the dog’s head, stroked its back, the soft hair, and heard a voice as its owner rounded the corner of the building.
