Holding hands, Freedom and Lady Primrose walked over to the orchestra, and he tapped the conductor on the shoulder and spoke to him. Still waving his baton, the conductor nodded his head. Evelyne wondered what had been said and was fascinated to see how relaxed Freedom was, he seemed almost on intimate terms with Her Ladyship.
The orchestra struck up a tango, and on to the floor glided Freedom, his hand out for Lady Primrose to follow. She giggled and looked towards her table, then stood as Freedom demonstrated a step. A few couples stood and watched as he waited for the beat to begin the dance. He closed his eyes and stood quite still, head up, then slowly began to dance, clicking his heels in Romany style, putting the whole room to shame as he glided elegandy across the floor. After a short solo he swept Lady Primrose into his arms and she laughed, throwing her head back. Then, the show over, he began to teach her the steps.
Evelyne was so astounded by Freedom’s dancing that she was unaware of David’s approach until he was standing direcdy behind her chair. ‘I don’t know if I can tango, but I’m willing to try, would you do me the honour, Evie?’
Startled, she turned to him, then told him curtly that she didn’t tango. He promptly sat down, insisting he could wait for a waltz. He glanced at his wife on the dance door, then back to Evelyne. ‘You’ve not changed, not at all.’
She saw his eyes flick over her dress and she bit her lip, she knew he recognized it. He had changed. She could see the fine lines around his eyes and mouth, and a slight gauntness. His blue eyes were paler than ever. He still smelt of flowers, and was as fresh and clean as his starched white collar. The orchestra began a slow waltz and he held his hand out to her, smiling softly. They stood up and began to dance, Evelyne overpowered by David’s closeness, his blond hair brushing her face as he held her close, manoeuvring her around the polished floor.
Freda looked at them with a worried frown and swivelled in her chair to see where Freedom was. Through the throng of dancers she could see him leaning on the back of Lady Primrose’s chair. She watched him take the delicate hand and began to read her palm and suddenly realized he was a bit of a lady-killer, and by the look of Primrose she was responding to his charm.
Lady Primrose could smell Freedom’s musky perfume — sweet, strange and exciting, as he was — and his touch on her hand was gentle as he traced the lines on her palm. Giggling, she told Sir Charles she didn’t believe in all this mumbo-jumbo, and pulled her hand away, taken aback by the expression on her cousin’s face. He was staring at Freedom, his eyes furious. When he caught Primrose looking at him, he turned away and blushed the scarlet of his monocle ribbon. It was obvious that the gypsy boxer had powers which were not necessarily confined to fortune-telling.
David didn’t know what to say to Evelyne, he kept trying to think of some way to start a conversation, but then stopped before speaking. He could feel her in his arms, so close and yet so many miles away. There was so much he wanted to tell her — needed to tell her — but they danced on and he remained silent. Going back through the years in her mind, Evelyne turned around and came back again. Here she was, dancing close, very close, to the man she had believed she loved, so close that if she turned her cheek she could kiss his lips, and yet nothing could be further from her thoughts. He had shrunk, she was sure of it. She was taller than him now, and that cloyingly sweet perfume was surely not the one she used to wear. His eyes were so pale they seemed filled with tears, and as if he were reading her thoughts he suddenly stopped dancing and sighed, ‘I need some air, which way should I go?
Evelyne sat on the balcony steps, feeling cold, and David took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
‘Do you remember everything now, David? How I used to come and visit you? Do you remember?’
His head twitched, his mouth working. He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, pulled her closer, ‘You are the most beautiful creature, that is what I remember most — and you have filled out to perfection, to perfection.’
His free hand traced her bosom, heavy with milk for her son.
‘Please don’t do that.’
He smiled, kissed her neck softly, and she gasped.
‘You liked it once, you like it now: excite me, excite me, set me on fire.’
She looked around; he was holding her hand tightly, hurting her fingers, pulling her close, and he forced her head back, kissed her “just as he had kissed her that night in his car, forcing her mouth open with his tongue.
‘No, don’t, please, please … Let go of me, please.’
He held her even tighter. ‘What’s the matter with you, you liked it once, I remember. I remember that, you liked it, you loved me.’
Evelyne looked at him, amazed. How could she have been so foolish? ‘That was a long time ago, David, I think we should go back into the ballroom.’
He grasped her shoulders, tight. She didn’t push him away, but neither did she encourage him. She whispered, ‘What do you want from me?’
‘You know, what’s the matter? Not good enough for you now? Tell me, what have you set your sights on for tonight? My God, for a little slut you certainly have done well for yourself, I have to hand it to you, wormed your way in here very nicely …’
Evelyne drew back her right hand and slapped David’s face so hard that he reeled.
‘I am a married woman, with a son, how dare you make such insinuations, how dare you?’
He laughed, a humourless, barking sound, a sarcastic smile on his face. ‘You are still for sale, Evie, and to the highest bidder, your type always are and you know it.’
He was about to move away when she gripped his arm. ‘I’ve never been for sale, David, just poor. Is that a crime? You sicken me, for if there’s anyone selling themselves it’s been you … I loved you with a passion, a childish, naive passion that you abused, just like you abused your own friend, Freddy … How’s your wife? You knew he loved her, and yet you had to have her. Why, David? Because she’s titled? Because she had money? It’s you who’s been for sale, David, you … you’re nothing. Go back to your high society, your rich friends who laugh at you behind your back!’
He backed away from her, wringing his hands. ‘You know, you’re terribly wrong about one thing, my wife, I love her, I always have, but she makes a fool of me … a public fool.’ His voice was childish, pitiful, and to Evelyne’s dismay he started to cry. His shoulders shook, and he stuttered through his sobs, ‘We’re stony broke, all my fault. I lost my way, Evie, so long ago, lost my way, you see …’
He lifted his hands to Evelyne, a helpless gesture, then she saw the familiar habit he had of sweeping his hair back. His signet ring glinted. ‘Damned wretched business, can’t seem to hold on to anything … my father short-changed me, ya know, should have given me a sharp rap across the knuckles, but instead he encouraged me, because …’
He turned away from her, rested his hands on the balcony rail. ‘… Because he wanted me to succeed. Laughable, really — get in with the right set, Mother always used to say — and here I am, cap in hand, begging from Charles because we’re penniless.’
‘Why don’t you work? You were studying to be a lawyer.’
His voice was soft, full of pain. ‘I can’t remember things, hardly the best credentials for the Law Society …’ His eyes pleaded with her, ‘I don’t remember, Evie, I pretend I do, but so help me God, I don’t, because … because I’m scared. Sometimes when I have been with you I recall pictures — Mrs Darwin, my father …’
She knew he was lying, she sensed it, lying like a guilty child. She moved closer, almost touching him, ‘David, you can remember. What happened? What happened to you?’
He stared at her as if cornered, trapped. He shook his head and she inched even closer. ‘What did you do that made you so afraid? Tell me? You can tell me.’
She held him in her arms, felt him trembling, smoothed his hair, patted the silky hair she had longed to touch all those years before. ‘You know, David, in a way you do
n’t belong here either, you are as much out of your depth as I am. Whatever you did surely can’t make you hide for the rest of your life?’
His face altered, the child disappeared. His slender grasp of reality began to slip. His mouth turned down and his face twisted in fury at her assumption that he was no better than she, as if they were of the same class. When he spoke he had reverted to his usual, over-precise speech pattern. ‘I’m not hiding, duckie, what do you take me for? I know what you bloody are.’ He made a grab for her breast, ripping her gown.
Neither of them had heard Freedom’s soft footstep, or were aware that he had been standing close by. With one swift move he gripped David’s jacket and tossed him aside.
‘It was that bitch’s fault, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me.’
For one moment Evelyne would have liked Freedom to throw David over the balcony, then she turned, looking for help to stop him.
Ed had been searching for Freedom since Freda had told him David and Evelyne had disappeared together. As he came around the side of the house, he saw Freedom dragging David along the balcony and ran as fast as his fat legs would carry him.
‘Freedom … Freedom! Evelyne, stop him, for God’s sake. Stop him!’ He launched himself on to Freedom’s back and tried to pull him off the hysterical David. Freda and one of the stable lads ran out on to the balcony and the boy tried to help Ed control Freedom, but they were no match for him, and it was not until two more lads came running that they were able to haul Freedom away from the weeping man.
David flailed his arms in the air, his voice a high-pitched shriek. ‘How dare you, how dare you manhandle me, I’ll have you horsewhipped, you animal!’
It was a grotesque, embarrassing scene, and Ed tried his damnedest to calm everyone down. ‘Show’s over — it was nothing, just a bit of fun. Everybody go back inside, it’s over … You all right, sir?’
He put his arm around David’s shoulders, trying to smooth his jacket, but David pushed him away.
‘Don’t touch me, get away from me, all of you, you rabble, you common bastards!’
Shaking he arranged his handkerchief in his breast pocket and smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand. ‘I shall be a gentleman and forget this ever happened.’
He gave Evelyne a strange, disdainful look, turned, his head held high, and made a sad, foolish exit, still trying desperately to hold on to his dignity.
One of the stableboys looked at Ed, ‘You need us, Mr Meadows?’
All eyes turned to Freedom and Evelyne. As if they were animals in a circus ring, they waited for the roar. The pair of them faced each other and the atmosphere was so highly-charged that no one dared speak. Then Evelyne walked away. She heard scuffling behind her and raised voices, but she hurried on, almost afraid to turn back and see what was happening.
Ed was trying to persuade Freedom not to ride, not at this hour of the night — it was dark and the horse could fall. The head stableboy stuttered that Sir Charles would hit the roof, and received the snarling reply, ‘Bugger Sir Charles.’ No one had the nerve to try to stop Freedom as he galloped off without a saddle, leaving Ed thinking, ‘There’s Freedom’s best suit ruined,’ and silently praying his champion wouldn’t fall. He was doubly concerned because Freedom had taken Sir Charles’ prize stallion. God help them all if anything happened to the horse, never mind Freedom.
If Ed had watched for another second he would have had a heart attack as Freedom and the horse jumped a five-foot wall and headed for the forest.
The baby was sleeping, his thumb stuck in his mouth, and his warmth and peacefulness touched Evelyne. She lifted him gently out of the bizarre cradle they had brought from London and sat by the fire, rocking him in her arms. She closed her eyes, vowing to herself that he would never have to endure the humiliation she had known. She hated being poor, being subjected to ridicule. Growing steadily inside her were seeds of loathing for the so-called aristocracy.
If only Freedom would educate himself, beat them at their own game, learn to use them as they were using him. She was even more determined that she would teach him to read and write, make him learn. She shuddered when David came into her thoughts. He’d called her a slut. Well, she would not waste her time on him any more, he was out of her life. She looked down into her son’s face, touched his head.
‘You see, Edward, David’s trouble is that he got given all the opportunities a man could have, but he frittered them away. You know why? Because he won’t face up to being who he is. It doesn’t matter, Edward, where you come from. Titles? Half of them don’t have two pennies to rub together … You’re going to be somebody, be successful, be powerful and not need anyone. You have to want it and fight for it — not with your fists, like your dad, that isn’t good enough. No, you’re going to have to fight for an education and I’ll be right alongside you. I’ll kill for you to have it, so help me God I will — you’ll never be any man’s servant.’
Hours later Freedom came home to find the curtain drawn across the window and Evelyne already in bed. She heard him kicking off his shoes and knew he would be scattering his clothes all over the room. She got up and pulled her cardigan round her shoulders, checked that the baby was asleep, and opened the curtain quietly so Freedom did not hear her.
He was sitting by the fire, staring into the coals, his bare chest gleaming in the firelight. Evelyne curled up at his feet, squeezing her body between his knees. He didn’t speak and made no effort to hold her, but at the same time he did not push her away. For a few minutes they sat in silence, and then Evelyne began to tell him, softly, everything there was to know about her and David — how much she had loved him in a childish, romantic fantasy way, and how he had humiliated and hurt her … how even tonight he had made her feel like a second-class citizen, because of his background, his money. When Freedom had found them David was crying like a baby because he couldn’t have what he wanted, she had refused his advances. Not that he really wanted her — he never had — she was poor, something that could be bought, and thrown away when he had tired of her.
‘We may be poor, but our son will have everything, and you know what everything is, Freedom? Us, you and me beside him always. He’s going to have what we never had, proper schooling, education. We can have that for free, but love costs a lot more, you know that?’
He didn’t really understand what she was saying, but the fact that she had told him everything about David without his asking made him reach to hold her. He was so proud of her, the fight in her. He built up the fire until it blazed and brought the mattress from their bed, put it in front of the fire. Then he took off her long cotton nightdress and laid her down on the mattress, naked in the firelight. She loved him all the more. David’s weakness emphasized his strength, and she lifted her arms to him. He knelt beside her and kissed her, and they made love as they had in the enchanted summer months out in the fields. Since the child’s birth he had been gentle and caring, but now he loved her roughly, taking her time and time again until they lay sweating, their bodies close, so close, their love deepening, bonding them together.
‘Don’t ever betray me, manushi, not ever. It would set a demon loose inside me, and I wouldn’t care what happened to me, do ye understand what I am saying, gel?’
Evelyne did, she too had felt that surge of jealousy when she had seen him dancing with Lady Primrose, and it was a new emotion. She felt she would kill if anyone ever tried to take him from her. She turned in his arms and stroked his long hair, placed her hand to his heart, ‘And we must always talk, Freedom, be honest with each other, never pretend or lie.’
He lay back and thought about what she had said, about them being there for their son. It had never occurred to Freedom that he had never had a father, but then the elders of the camp acted in that role. Evelyne told him the difference, what it had been like with her Da, the closeness, the strong bond between them. She sat up and prodded the fire, snuggled down in his arms and asked him what he knew of the man who had fathered him
. He could remember little, just that his mother had been very young, she was a Tachey Romany chat, of high blood, her father a prince and her mother the dukkerin of the camp. Her family had visited a village in the Rhondda and she had seen with her ‘eye’ the boy, tall as a tree, she said, and so rinkeney he had made her heart stop. She had known immediately that she wanted him. Freedom reverted to his Romany tongue as he described his mother, and the tall, wild man the village had nicknamed ‘The Lion’.
During the telling Freedom sat up, slightly apart from Evelyne, and she suddenly clutched him, hugged him, desperately. She clamped her hand over his mouth to prevent him going any further, ‘No, no, don’t say any more. Dear God, don’t say any more.’
He had to prise her away from him, she was that strong. He lifted her bodily, and from her face he knew something was terribly wrong, it frightened him. ‘Oh, God, Freedom, what have we done?’ She wanted to scream, she covered her own mouth with her hands, afraid she would cry out and wake the child … she bit her hand so hard he could see her teeth sinking into the flesh, her whole body trembling. When he pulled her hand away her sobs shook her, and she tried to push him away from her.
Holding him at arm’s length she finished his story for him; her voice harsh, each word bringing her pain. She told him of his mother, how she had stood at the pithead and waited for her ‘lion’, how the man had laughed and she had cursed him. It was Freedom’s turn to freeze, how did she know — how was she able to tell something he had never told another soul?
‘Oh, don’t you see, don’t you understand …’ Whatever reaction she anticipated, something akin to her own horror, never came. Instead Freedom lay back and started to laugh, a deep, throaty laugh. She stood up, stark naked, and kicked him, shouting. How could he laugh, how could he? He caught her foot and brought her crashing down beside him. She tried to fight him off, but he was so strong it was useless. He rolled on top of her, grasping her wrists above her head, holding them tightly, ‘Tell me everything about him. Let me know everything. Am I like him? Tell me, tell me.’ ‘Are you not afraid — that we have the same blood?’ He released her arms, caught her to him so tightly she could hardly breathe, ‘Blood to blood, Evie, we are closer, closer, do you not see that?’
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