Trinidad Street

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Gerry!’ Weeks of worry and frustration surfaced. She felt like hitting him. ‘Don’t come that one with me. I know. You’re in big trouble, ain’t you? Why don’t you tell me, Gerry? I’m not stupid, you know. I was with you last time it happened, remember. You told me about it then and I done what I could to help. Just tell me what’s going on.’

  Gerry dropped his head into his hands. ‘I don’t want to worry you. I can deal with it myself.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Gerry! I’m worried out of my mind. You’re never home, you look like someone’s after your blood, we put away the furniture, we owe six weeks’ rent, and the only money coming in’s from the lodgers – and I can’t keep them much longer, not with the place empty like this. Just tell me what it is and maybe I can do something, but don’t talk about not worrying me, because not knowing’s far worse than whatever it is.’

  But Gerry waved his head slowly in denial. ‘It wouldn’t do no good, Ellen. You can’t help this time.’

  ‘Who is it? Who do you owe money to? Is it Praed again?’

  ‘No, no, not him. I steered clear of him this time.’

  That was something of a relief. The very mention of Praed’s name made her guts crawl with foreboding.

  ‘Except – well, it is, in a way. I mean, that’s how it started. I had to borrow off of this other bloke to pay off Praed that time. You know he was leaning on me. Trouble is, now this other bloke’s leaning on me just as bad.’

  ‘How much?’ Ellen felt sick.

  ‘A lot.’

  ‘How much, Gerry?’

  A long pause, then, Two hundred quid.’

  ‘Gerry!’

  ‘I knew you’d be worried. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.’

  ‘Two hundred quid!’

  ‘I’ll do it, love. I’ll get it back to him. I got plenty of stock still and trade’s good, people are buying. Like I said, it’s just a bad patch.’

  More than that, Ellen could not get out of him. She took in outwork to help make ends meet, spending long hours doing repetitive tasks for very little money. Everything they owned that was not absolutely essential to life went along to the pawnshop. But though they just about kept food on the table, it did nothing to pull them out of their debt.

  Knowledge of their plight was not long in travelling the street. Some folk who had resented Gerry’s status as stall holder gave sly smiles, but most were on their side. Little offerings of food appeared on the doorstep or were slipped into Ellen’s hand – a couple of ounces of tea, half a loaf, a saucer of jam.

  ‘For the little ’uns,’ people muttered, and slid off before they could be thanked. They all knew what it was like to be on your uppers.

  But it was no use. The landlord gave them one more week to pay before sending the bailiffs in.

  ‘They won’t find anything worth taking here,’ Ellen said. ‘Ain’t you got nothing we can put ’em off with, Gerry? Just a couple of quid might keep ’em from turning us out.’

  Gerry shook his head. For once, he was silenced.

  ‘Then we better go before we’re pushed. We’ll have to move in with your mum.’ She managed to say it in a matter-of-fact way.

  Ellen bustled about fixing it with Alma and moving what very little they had left. She told the children what fun it was going to be living with Granny, and put on a brave face. When people sympathized, she just shrugged and smiled, saying that it was only for a while till they got back on their feet again. Nobody, least of all Gerry, guessed how she felt inside.

  Pride demanded that the house should be clean before handing the key back to the landlord. Ellen asked her mother to look after the children for the day while she gave the place a good going-over, but put off all offers of help with the scrubbing. She wanted to be alone for once, without having to make the effort to keep cheerful, for she knew that she could not keep it up.

  She borrowed bucket, soap, scrubbing brush and even hot water from Florrie, and set to, trying not to think of anything. Doggedly she concentrated on the job in hand, venting her rage and sense of failure on the paintwork. There was plenty to do: the stairs and floors to be scrubbed, the windows to be cleaned, the range to be polished. But when Harry found her she was on her knees by the skirting board in the parlour, crying.

  ‘Oh, love.’ He knelt down beside her and put an arm round her shaking shoulders.

  Ellen turned to him and buried her face in his chest, giving herself up to her unhappiness. Clinging to him, she let out all the pain that she had been holding to herself for so long. Harry stroked her head and rocked her like a baby until the weeping subsided into hiccuping sobs and she gradually became aware of his strong arms around her, his soothing voice in her ears, her body close to his. She knew she should pull away, but it was good to be held like this, safe in the one haven left in an uncertain world. The crushing weight of debt no longer seemed to matter. She pressed her hot cheek to the damp patch her tears had made on his shirt and closed her eyes, letting the warmth and security of his love flow through her.

  Harry bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips.

  ‘My poor darling. He shouldn’t’ve left you all alone like this to clear up.’

  ‘They all offered, but I didn’t want anyone.’

  ‘It’s a real swine, having to give up your house.’

  ‘Oh, Harry.’ She nearly started crying again. ‘You don’t know. I feel so – so lost. It’s horrible, not having a home. I know your aunty Alma’ll be good to us, but it ain’t the same, it ain’t my home. It’s like – like I don’t belong nowhere.’

  ‘Yeah. Adrift, like.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s just it. Adrift.’

  ‘Look.’ Harry held her away from him a little so that he could see her face. ‘You need taking out of yourself. I can’t do nothing about Gerry’s problems, but I can see to it that you ain’t here all by yourself doing the donkey work. You go and tidy up a bit. We’re going out.’

  ‘Out?’ She stared at him as if he’d suggested flying to the moon. ‘I can’t go out. I got this house to clean.’

  ‘Sod the house. It’s clean enough already. You go and get yourself ready.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘No buts. Just do it.’

  ‘I can’t. I – I got nothing to wear.’

  ‘You got a dress on.’

  ‘I can’t go out in this!’

  ‘So you are coming, then?’

  She almost smiled, glad to be defeated. ‘Yeah. I didn’t ought to, but yeah.’

  ‘Right, so come as you are. You look just right to me.’

  While she was washing her face and putting her hair in place, Harry slipped out the back way. They met ten minutes later down at the river’s edge. Harry was sitting waiting for her in a small skiff. He stood up and held out a hand to help her onboard. Ellen sat down unsteadily in the stem. It still felt all wrong, running away like this. She worried that the children might need her. What if somebody came running to fetch her and she was not there?

  ‘Whose boat is this? Where are we going?’

  ‘Never mind about the boat. I can have a lend of it any Sunday. And we’re going to Battersea.’

  ‘Battersea! I ain’t never been there.’

  ‘No, neither’s no one else in the street, so it’s quite safe. You’ll like it. There’s a park.’

  She sat upright, holding on to the sides of the boat, anxiously chewing her lip. It was another hot late-summer day and people were out. You never knew who might see you.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Harry said, reading her thoughts. ‘Who’s going to be looking out for you here?’

  He rowed with a strong, steady stroke through the lines of coasters and small craft moored along the tiers until they were midstream, where the floodtide took hold of them and helped them along.

  ‘Nobody on shore can see who’s in a skiff now. The boats on the tiers are hiding us.’

  But it was not until they passed under Tower Bridge that Ellen began to feel they were awa
y from prying eyes. She started to unwind a little then, asking Harry about the buildings they were passing.

  ‘There’s Fresh Wharf, where we boarded for Southend. Remember?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She smiled then at the memory. ‘That was a lovely day, weren’t it? I’ll always remember that. One of the best days of my life.’

  ‘Best days of my life was when we used to go over to Greenwich.’

  Ellen was seized with a longing for those uncomplicated times. She had had everything to look forward to then. She changed the subject quickly for fear of giving way to the lump in her throat.

  ‘What’s that awful whiff? Is that Billingsgate?’

  They were in Harry’s own world of boats and wharves and bridges. He had stories to tell of people and places and incidents all along the way. Slowly Ellen relaxed. As they went further and further upriver, the problems of real life faded. She could put Gerry and the house and the debts and even the children to the back of her mind and shut them away in the close little world of Trinidad Street. Out here on the river there was space and light, the sun was dancing on the water and pleasure boats were passing with groups of gaily dressed people on the decks. Best of all, she was with the man she loved. She leant back in the boat, trailing her hand in the water and laughing at Harry’s tales.

  ‘There.’ Harry nodded over his right shoulder. ‘See them trees? That’s Battersea Park.’

  They tied the skiff up at the jetty. Harry flexed his shoulders, Ellen got her land legs back again.

  ‘Ain’t you tired, with all that rowing? We come an awful long way.’

  ‘No – nothing to it, little boat like that. I’m hungry, though. It must be dinner time. Come on, I’ll treat you.’

  They sat down on flimsy metal chairs at a little round table outside the café and ate pork pies and Chelsea buns, and washed them down with thick sweet tea. Ellen could not recall anything ever tasting so good. Around them families chattered and squabbled, and sparrows hopped right up to their feet to catch the crumbs. The broad leaves of the plane trees above dappled the sunlight into ever changing patterns. Trinidad Street with all its cares was a thousand miles away, almost on a different planet. Ellen looked at Harry, to find that he was looking at her.

  ‘I like it here,’ she said.

  ‘I knew you would.’

  And they smiled, for they each knew the other’s tastes so well.

  ‘Fancy a stroll round?’ Harry asked.

  She nodded and got up, brushing the crumbs from her skirt. ‘Yeah, that’d be lovely.’

  All of south London seemed to be in the park that afternoon, from babies in perambulators to old folk in Bath chairs, and all ages in between, children bowling hoops, young people in groups eyeing each other, lovers walking hand in hand, noisy families. Harry and Ellen wandered arm in arm round the gravelled paths, engrossed in each other. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they were silent, happy just to be together, away from the prying eyes and clacking tongues of home. They admired the flowers and ate ice cream and listened to the band. Ellen was aware of a great lake of quiet happiness growing and growing inside her, turning the whole world to gold. But at the same time she knew that it was fragile and fleeting, and that every precious moment brought them closer to the time when they would have to go home. The combination produced an almost unbearable ache in her heart.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Harry said, as she gazed speechlessly at the display of dahlias.

  ‘Don’t you wish you could make time stand still?’ she said. ‘Just stop it and hold on to it for ever?’

  ‘Yeah.’ For the first time that day his cheerfulness slipped and he sighed. ‘I wish I could go back an’ all, and undo all the stupid mistakes I made.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They both stared at the flowers, thinking of all the things they would change if they could only have their time over again.

  As they walked on, Ellen became increasingly aware of his physical presence, his arm threaded with hers, his shoulder rubbing against hers, their legs moving in unison. As one, their fingers laced together in a tight knot. She felt her heart thudding in her chest.

  In a little copse of trees, Harry stopped and looked into her eyes.

  ‘Look, we can’t change anything really, can we? So let’s just enjoy what we got.’

  Ellen nodded. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, the word hoarse in her throat.

  He set off with a purposeful step, away from the promenading crowds. Ellen, almost trotting to keep up with him, could feel the excitement coursing through him stirring her own body, as if they were one. She knew what it was that she wanted: him, all of him. And she wanted to give all of herself, as a present.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  They hurried on till they came to a dull part of the park where a large clump of privet bushes grew into a dense hedge. He led the way up a narrow path which opened out into a bare patch by a brick hut.

  ‘What’s this?’ Ellen was not very impressed.

  ‘It’s where the gardeners keep their stuff. But they ain’t here today. It’s Sunday, remember.’

  ‘Ah.’ Ellen was beginning to understand. She let him take her hand and lead her round the back of the hut, and then followed him as he scrambled under the dusty bushes.

  When they were completely surrounded by privets, Harry stopped, kneeling with some difficulty under the branches to strip off his jacket. He laid it over the fallen leaves that covered the baked earth.

  ‘There. Not exactly comfortable, but it’s well hidden.’ He patted the space beside him. ‘Make y’self at home.’

  Ellen hesitated. She knew that she should not, and yet – and yet she loved him so much, and needed him so much, and they might never get this chance again.

  ‘Come on, love.’ He held out a hand to her.

  She looked into his blue eyes, and all resistance slid away. She could not refuse, not when she wanted the same thing herself. She sank down, and melted into his arms. It felt so right, it was like coming home. Their lips met in a long, hungry kiss.

  ‘Ellen, Ellen.’ He crushed her to his hard body as if he would never let her go. ‘You don’t know how I needed that.’

  ‘I do.’

  As they spoke their lips brushed, their hot breath mingling.

  ‘If I thought you was happy, you and Gerry, I could bear it. I’d never even have thought of bringing you here.’

  ‘Forget Gerry. Just for today. He never made me feel like you do, not one little bit. You’re the only one I ever wanted. I see you and it hurts all over that I can’t have you.’

  They kissed again, lips and tongues searching and demanding. The outside world ceased to exist, leaving just the two of them, and the love they had kept hidden for so long. Ellen felt as if she had opened a door into a new world. She no longer had to pretend. She no longer had to hold back. All the passion and longing that had been damped down could flare up without restraint. She could be her true self. She trembled and moaned with pleasure as Harry’s hands caressed her body, awakening breasts and thighs and belly to a burning need. She pressed against him, wanting more, wanting all of him.

  ‘Oh, Harry.’

  She tugged at his shirt, eager for the feel of his warm skin and wiry hair beneath her hands, and thrilled at his reaction as she kissed his naked chest. He reached down to gather up her skirt, his hands sending tongues of fire through her as he travelled over calf and knee and found the soft skin of her thigh. She cried out as he lingered, teasing, and again in an agony of pleasure as at last his fingers slipped between her legs. She lay writhing, helpless in the exquisite joy until the need of him became too much to bear and she reached out to touch him. And then they could wait no longer, kissing and biting and tasting as they pulled at their own and each other’s clothing in loving desperation. Harry rolled on top of her and she opened to him, rising to meet him as he thrust into her, gripping him as he went deeper, borne on waves of desire that grew higher and higher until they
burst in unison into a fountain of ecstasy. They clung to each other, gasping, laughing, sobbing and gradually floating down into a warm golden sea of bliss.

  Ellen drew a long, shaking breath. ‘I never knew anything like that,’ she whispered.

  Harry smiled down at her, tracing the line of her cheek with his finger.

  ‘That was good,’ he agreed, ‘but it was too quick. We was both a bit desperate.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ Ellen admitted It was so wonderful to be able to talk like this without embarassment. She moved against him so that she could feel the length of him inside her, and found to her delight that she wanted him all over again.

  Harry turned over so that she was on top of him.

  ‘Sit up,’ he said, ‘I want to look at you.’

  She complied with difficulty, laughing as her hair tangled with the twiggy bushes. Harry reached up and undid the remaining buttons on her blouse, eased it off and dropped it to the ground. Her corset and chemise followed. Ellen stretched her arms out in a glory of abandonment. She had never felt the air on her body like this before. Sunspots coming through branches played on her naked skin. Harry cupped her breasts in his hands, fondling and caressing.

  ‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, wonder in his voice.

  Slowly they explored each other’s bodies with eyes and lips and fingertips. For Ellen it was a new and wonderful world where part of her that had always been submerged could at last find full expression. She opened like a flower to Harry’s loving touch, and revelled in the chance to discover what gave him special pleasure.

  ‘You know what it is?’ she said. ‘You make me feel like a proper woman.’

  ‘You’re the only woman for me.’ Harry drew her head down and kissed her.

  A renewed excitement began to run through them, mounting by degrees until they were climbing peak after peak of drawn-out pleasure. And just when Ellen felt she could hardly hold so much joy, they flooded with a final molten ecstasy.

  For a timeless age they lay locked together, hardly knowing where either began or ended. They slept and woke and sighed, immersed in complete happiness.