by Martha Long
‘What?’ I said, looking over at him rushing to come to me. ‘No, no, I’m just going to look for my tobacco, Ralph, but I’m sorry I upset you, talking about rubbish. It’s long dead, for God’s sake. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘No, please, darling,’ he said, grabbing me to him. ‘I wanted to spare you my tears,’ he whispered. ‘I am an old-fashioned gentleman. They do not show tears in public. I am sorry, darling. The apology is all mine. It is like a sharp knife cutting through me, to see how brutally you have been abused,’ he said, kissing the top of my head and trying to suffocate me inside his arms.
God, if only you knew, Ralph, if only you knew. They were actually the good years! I thought, getting pictures of dark images of the Jackser times, as blurred images and feelings started flying at me, bringing a feeling of walking through endless nights of cold and hunger and exhaustion. I shook my head, trying to blink them away and replace them with happier pictures. I am here now with Ralph, I am wrapped in his arms. I am very content and happy. I have no worries.
‘I need a cigarette, Ralph,’ I whispered, taking a big sigh and opening my eyes, seeing him smiling at me.
‘Darling, you are so precious to me. I love you very much,’ he said, giving me a tight hug then releasing me.
‘I love you too, Ralph. You are the only man I have ever loved,’ I said, reaching up and planting a kiss on his lips. Then I walked out to collect my cigarettes, wondering where I left them. I haven’t smoked for ages, I just forgot about them. Jaysus, things are looking up, I might just be able to give them up yet! I thought, seeing Ralph come into the sitting room, then walk across to switch on a music centre sitting buried beside a big press in the corner. A song came wafting into the room sounding lonely and haunting. It was the memorable voice of Edith Piaf.
‘Ah, one of my favourite singers,’ I said. ‘The great Edith Piaf, “the Little Sparrow” as she was known by all of France.’
‘Yes, she was much loved,’ he said nodding. ‘Unfortunately, her battered body was diseased and wasting from—’
I interrupted, saying, ‘Too much hard living, too many lovers breaking her heart, and too much neglect as a child.’
He bowed his head, agreeing with me solemnly. ‘Indeed, quite right,’ he muttered.
‘Still, she went out with a bang,’ I said, thinking, if I was on my last legs, I would like to be doing the ton down a long, lonely motorway. Then with full throttle let rip and go out with a bang. My last thought would probably be, Jaysus! That was lovely! Or, the other extreme, die in me sleep! But both fast. I don’t want to know about it. No lingering for me.
We listened to the music softly filling the room as she sang, ‘Non, je ne regrette rien!’
‘Do you have any regrets so far, Ralph?’ I said, looking over at him stretched out on his favourite sofa.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Would I do things differently? I have thought that if I were not a priest then I would surely not have met you. So I do not regret that, if it was for only that reason,’ he said, giving me a gorgeous smile, lighting up his face, then staring at me knowingly, looking up and down the length of me with longing in his eyes.
My heart turned over, missing a beat. I wanted to run to him and throw myself on top of him, getting lost and smothered inside him, but I stayed rooted in my place. Then he lowered his head, examining his fingernails and thinking.
‘Oh, you were going to ask me something as I came in. What was that?’ he said, looking up at me with his head cocked.
‘I was? Don’t remember! Oh, yes, I do! Listen, Ralph,’ I said, taking in a deep breath.
‘Uh-oh! This sounds ominous!’ he muttered, giving a little laugh.
‘Well, you did ask what I was going to say. I wanted to ask you a question!’
‘Yes, do go on,’ he said, curious to hear what I wanted to know.
‘Did you ever fall for anyone while you were working abroad? I mean, this Irish nurse, what’s her name?’
‘Eileen,’ he said, grinning. ‘Ah-ha! I knew perhaps that may come up. I did note your reaction, darling. The little green god was at work in you.’
‘Well!’ I snorted. ‘It doesn’t matter to me now. I mean, whatever happened, happened! So I am sure it’s not happening now. Because I’m here! But I am still curious. It tells me more about you than about her. I want to know about you, Ralph!’
‘Oh, do you mean I should start making a clean breast of all my foibles and—’
‘Yes! No! I just want to know, did you and your woman get close? Were you fond of her?’
‘Of course I was. We were colleagues! Working together.’
‘Oh, so you were involved with her on an emotional level?’
‘No, Martha, not emotional, of course not. I do not mix my personal life with my professional life. It would have made life very difficult for everyone.’
‘So you made a decision, then, to keep your paws off her, is that it?’
‘No, of course not. I was not in the slightest attracted to the girl. She was terribly good fun to be around. An extremely competent nurse, very dedicated. But, no, no romance, darling. Sorry to disappoint you!’
‘Oh, what about the nun then?’
‘Oh, darling, you should take to the law, you would be awfully good at it,’ he laughed, roaring his head off with the laughing.
‘Well?’ I said. ‘You didn’t answer me!’
‘Answer you about what?’ he said, looking puzzled.
‘About bloody Geraldine, the nun, the doctor?’
‘Oh, you do remember her name!’
‘Yes! So come on, surely you were not living like a bleedin hermit!’
‘Of course I was not!’ he snorted.
‘You weren’t?’ I said, getting a fright and feeling annoyed all at the same time. Immediately getting a picture of him and the nun with the rustle of habits and all that hot weather!
‘So, what happened?’
‘About what, darling?’
‘Oh, Ralph, you are pretending to be pure stupid just to annoy me!’ I shouted, losing the rag.
‘Darling, I really do not have the slightest idea what you are prattling about!’ he snorted, getting annoyed himself.
‘How dare you? So, is that what you think I am doing, prattling?’
‘No,’ he said slowly, looking at me, wondering how this all started and got out of control so quickly.
‘Right! Drop the bloody subject,’ I said. ‘I don’t give a fiddler’s if you had a whole harem of nuns one side and another lot of nurses on the other. Who cares?’ I sniffed, getting up and walking out of the room.
‘Martha! Come back, for goodness’ sake. You are being ridiculous!’
‘Right, you know what you can do,’ I screamed, rushing back into the room to grab up a cushion and fling it at his head.
He ducked as it landed on his hand and he managed to catch it. ‘You little harridan!’ he growled.
‘How dare you?’ I screeched, sounding like the banshee as I lunged for another cushion, managing to grab it just as he was on top of me.
‘Now, you little tigress,’ he said, trying to tear the cushion off me. He made a dive to push himself on me, and I twisted and rolled off, landing on the floor, grabbing the cushion with me. He was down on me in a flash, pinning me against the floor, using the force of his weight, with his chest pinning me down.
‘Get off me, you bully! Blackguard, harem-loving bleedin philanderer!’
‘Oh, so my sweet is jealous, eh?’ he said, grinning at me, pressing me down harder by leaning in for more leverage.
‘You swine!’ I snarled, raging because he probably was having it off with the fucking nun and I got none meself! And it didn’t seem to cost him a thought!
‘I promise you, Ralph Fitzgerald, when I get up off this floor, you better start running. Because I am going to whack your miserable face with every cushion pillow, and I will start on the seats of the sofa when I am finished with them.
You are going to end up smothered in feathers!’ I said, getting it all out slowly in a snarl while he let his face get even more shocked by the minute.
‘Tsk, tsk, it looks like I will have to carry a loaded pistol when I am around you,’ he said, shaking his head, looking very sorrowful.
‘Do, then you will end up with bullets in your arse when I take it from you,’ I said, looking sorrowfully back at him. ‘So, are we going to stay like this all night or what?’ I said, wanting to get up.
‘Oh, do we have an alternative? Hmm, let me see,’ he mused, thinking about it. ‘The “or what” sounds interesting. Shall we try that?’ he whispered softly, leaning into me with a lecherous grin, trying to soften me up.
‘I am not speaking to you, Ralph Fitzgerald. Try ringing one of your harem ladies. I believe they have telephones in the jungle these days,’ I said, turning my face away from him. I was raging at the thought he was being so slippery. Not being honest and open. I mean, I didn’t have any bleedin affairs to talk about! The only one I had was the Ulick fella, and he knew about that! So fuck him.
We stayed quiet while I kept staring over at the blank wall, and he wouldn’t give up, because he didn’t want me to get the better of him. If he got up now, I would go off to have a very major sulk. This is serious. Then again, he can’t keep me pinned to the floor all night. So he can start telling me about his doings in the jungle. I was only curious to begin with. It’s not actually my business. But now? Well, it seems he’s a bleedin sleeveen. Tells you nothing about himself.
‘Darling, please look at me,’ he said quietly.
I turned one eye.
He rested his chest on me and brought my face around to look at him. ‘Why are we fighting?’
‘Because . . .’ I couldn’t think how to put it.
‘You are jealous because you think I have been having affairs with other women, or perhaps just one! You want to know about my past, is that it? Because it will help you learn more about me. Is that not so, my treasured one?’
‘Yes, exactly,’ I said quietly, looking him straight in the eye.
‘OK,’ he said, getting to his feet and dragging me with him. Then he lifted me up and carried me over to the sofa before sitting down beside me. Then he turned away, looking for the cushions.
‘Goodness, I have not had a pillow fight since I was a boy away at boarding school,’ he laughed, reaching down and picking up the cushions.
‘I need a smoke,’ I said.
‘No, darling, it is not a need. You want!’
‘Yeah, I want a smoke,’ I said, reaching beside the sofa to dig out my tobacco from the bag, then rolling and lighting up a cigarette.
‘Look, why don’t I get us a drink? Wine?’ he said.
‘Yes, please, while we have “All Quiet on the Western Front”,’ I said.
Then he laughed, saying, ‘Oh, you are funny, darling,’ before heading out the door, shaking his head.
‘No, I did not have love affairs. I did not have this sort of relationship with any woman other than you, darling.’
‘We are not having an affair, Ralph!’ I said, thinking about the injustice of it. Getting blamed for something I never got the pleasure of in the first place.
‘No, darling. But, nonetheless, our relationship is a very passionate one! Our feelings for each other are very powerful even though we do not act upon them. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes, no doubt about that, Ralph.’
‘So that is what I meant about you and I. I have never felt that about another woman. You are the only one I have come close to losing myself with. I love you passionately, Martha!’ he said, staring into my eyes.
I stared back, feeling myself go weak and wobbly. Then I reached out, burying my face in his neck with my arms around him. His skin smelled faintly of soap and it was soft yet strong and masculine. I could get the fresh smell of Clorox or something off his shirt collar. Something Madame must wash his clothes in, or the cleaners. He pulled me over, sitting me back on the cushions with my feet on his lap, and stroked my toes, rubbing and massaging them.
‘Ohh, that’s lovely,’ I purred, closing my eyes and smiling.
‘You are like a kitten,’ he said, pulling me down further to slide across him. Then he lifted me up in his arms, burying his face in my neck and kissing my cheeks, then rubbing his lips around my ears. ‘Hmm! You smell deliciously sexy,’ he said, running his hand and rippling his fingers down my thighs, over the linen trousers I was wearing.
‘Ohh, that is so lovely, your hands are so gentle,’ I purred, feeling definitely like a lazy cat getting heat and being stroked, all at the same time.
He slid me off his lap and pulled his legs up, sliding them along the sofa so I was lying on the cushions and he was stretched against the backrest, with me half under him. I reached up and put my arms around his neck, feeling his stomach against mine. We just smiled lazily at each other.
‘If you kiss me hard again,’ I whispered, ‘you will have to search for me. I will simply melt away into the sofa.’ I smiled at him staring back at me.
He shook his head, saying under his breath, ‘You are the love of my life. I do love you, dear heart.’
7
I woke up coughing and sat up slowly, throwing the bedclothes back. My pyjamas were stuck to my back. As soon as I made to get out of the bed, the room started spinning. I tried to lift myself up, waiting for it to ease. Then got myself standing. Jesus, I feel rotten. I must have the flu or something. Oh, I need something to drink. I am so thirsty. What time is it?
I looked at the bedside clock. Nine o’clock. It’s late enough. I must have slept on fitfully after being awake half the night with this bleedin coughing. I can’t get a breath and the pain of it is killing me. Jaysus! If only I could give up the aul smokes.
Right, I need a dressing gown. I went over slowly to the wardrobe and took out Ralph’s bathrobe. I found that hanging behind the door in the bathroom. He won’t mind. I’m not going to bother getting ready yet. The last thing I feel like now is getting into a bath and then dressing myself. Decorum or not, I’m going as I am. Ralph won’t be impressed. It is not the done thing. Oh, I don’t care. I just feel bloody terrible. Maybe he might have some Panadol or something. Right, get downstairs and get a hot drink, but first a gallon of cold water for my thirst. That might help. A cup of tea, no Madame Bouclé’s coffee for me.
I opened the door to see Madame Bouclé taking the dishes out of the washer and stacking them on the table.
‘Bonjour, Madame!’
‘Bonjour, Madame Bouclé,’ I gasped, coughing and trying to get my breath as the pain cut through me like a knife. Fuck, here we go, making a show of myself again.
Madame was looking at me intently with a worried look. She said something in French, but I didn’t catch it. I didn’t understand, so just shook my head, concentrating on getting the last cough, to take me first gasp.
‘Qu’avez-vous?’ she said, coming over to stand in front of me as I sat myself down in a heap on the chair.
‘Ohh! Je ne me sens pas bien!’ I groaned, wanting a hot drink. ‘Madame . . .’ I was about to ask her for tea when the coughing and spluttering started again. Oh, where the fuck is Ralph? He can get me one. I’m not in the mood for messing.
She turned away and went straight for the boiling kettle on the stove and made me a hot tea with honey and fresh lemon, then put it down beside me.
I sipped the hot tea, feeling it slide down, easing my raw throat. Then I heard him coming just as the door opened. I looked up just as he was saying, ‘Good morning, darling!’ Then watched as his face dropped, taking me in.
The humiliation hit me. I hate to be a nuisance. It embarrasses me. I feel under obligation and just hate the tension. I wish now I had gone home last week. But Ralph suggested I stay on longer, besides, I need the rest, he said. ‘Let me take care of you. I want to spoil you.’ I was only too happy to agree. Now look at the fucking state of me. I’m just letting myself down as
usual. I wanted to burst into tears because I couldn’t cope. There was no way to escape this. I lowered my head as his voice faded away. Then he was putting his hand on my forehead, saying, ‘You look dreadful, darling, quite the colour of parchment. Good God, you are burning with fever,’ he muttered, lowering his voice to talk to himself. ‘How do you feel? Are you aching all over?’
I shook me head agreeing, not knowing if I was or not, the pain was all in my back and it kills me when I cough.
Then I started a fit of coughing again, not able to get a breath with the pain. I lifted my head, gasping, feeling I’ll never get another breath. I heard him say, ‘Yes, I think you may have a chest infection, darling.’ Then he turned to Madame Bouclé, who was standing listening and looking at me. I knew she was wondering how she could help.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to do this to you, Ralph,’ I said, not looking at him, feeling foolish I was making such a fuss.
‘Darling, please . . . Do not say these things,’ he muttered, letting his voice fade away as Madame dropped what she was doing and wiped her hands, leaving the room.
‘We must get you back upstairs at once, darling. I need to examine you before I can prescribe something. You will need an antibiotic. What did she give you? Here! Drink this, darling,’ he said, lifting the mug and putting it to my mouth.
I held on to it, and he sat down, pulling the chair over beside me. Then he rested his arm gently around my shoulders, leaving his other hand to rest on my knees, saying nothing. He just looked at me and sat thinking, looking worried. I said nothing, feeling too shaky and shivery and weak. Not wanting to make things worse for myself by making my presence felt.
I put the mug down and he took my hands and held them together in his own, saying quietly, ‘Madame is gone to prepare your room. She will make up a fresh bed for you. Then we need to get you out of these clothes,’ he said, feeling the hot, wet pyjamas steaming off me. ‘Come on, darling,’ he said, getting me standing on my feet. ‘Let us get you back to your room,’ he said, leading me out the door as Madame came down the stairs, saying something in French. He nodded at her, replying in French and thanking her. Then she headed to the kitchen and Ralph led me up the stairs. Then he suddenly stopped and lifted me in his arms, saying, ‘Come, darling, I will carry you.’ Then he bent down and swooped his hand under me, lifting me in his arms and taking me up the stairs with the greatest of ease. I let my arm hang around his neck, glad I was off my feet and heading back for my bed.
