A Ruthless Need, page 25
She now handed Lizzie a cup of tea, adding, ‘One thing I’m sorry for, lass, is that you’ll have it all to do yourself in future, and this is a big house.’
‘When are you actually going, Meg?’
‘Well, I said I would be takin’ over from next Monday; that’s when the rent begins, like.’
Lizzie sipped at her tea; then, suddenly putting the cup down on the table, she rose from the chair, pulled her felt hat firmly about her ears, and buttoned up her coat as she went out of the door. And Meg did not stop her with any more chatter.
As she pushed the pram through the gates on to the country road, her mind was nodding at her, saying, ‘Meg’s right. She’s right. I’ve got to have this out. I should have spoken up weeks ago.’ At the time, she had thought it couldn’t be another woman, because when would he see her? He was at home most of the day, except when he went for his constitutional; and because of his leg, he had been to the hospital three times during the past few weeks and had had to stay overnight because of the tests he was undergoing. Could it be there was something wrong with him physically and he didn’t want to tell her? She stopped pushing the pram. That could be it.
In a way, for some weeks now, they had lost what she described as personal contact. Before Christmas it had been nothing for him to put his arm around her shoulders or around her waist and give her a hug. And often in the evening he had sat holding her hand while they talked, especially after his father had gone upstairs and Meg had retired to bed. And more than once he had put his hand on the mound of her stomach to feel the baby kick. But such actions had ceased since the New Year.
In spite of having the child, she had felt very alone these past weeks and time and again she had felt inclined to phone Richard, but had considered it unfair to do so. It was almost a fortnight now since she had heard from him or his mother. Mrs Boneford had rung up a number of times during the first week after the baby was born, and even Mr Boneford had spoken to her on the phone, his voice so loud that he almost drowned his own words.
Then there was Geoff’s father. Strange, but less and less was she thinking of him as ‘Dad’. Since his outburst when he had first seen the baby, he had hardly spoken to her. When she had mentioned to Geoff that his father’s attitude was upsetting her, he had said, ‘Don’t worry. He’ll come around. He’s still missing Mother. Unfortunately, he’s a one-woman man.’
She walked on steadily now, pushing the pram and every now and again bending over the handlebars and talking to the child, who lay, blinking its round blue eyes, in the shadow of the canopy.
She was about to turn about and make for home when she decided to take the pram down onto the river walk. There was a gentle slope from the road further along. It was beyond the boundary of the estate, but once on the river bank, there was no barrier. And anyone ignorant of the boundary, which was defined by an almost obliterated railing that sloped at right angles down to the path, could be forgiven for not recognising that they were walking on private land.
A week or more ago, Lizzie would never have dreamt of walking into the grounds. But now that Mr Bradford-Brown had gone, there seemed to be a lighter feeling all round. So within minutes she was walking along by the river.
It was strange that she had never been so close to the river since the night she ploughed into it in an effort to save Richard. She told herself it was a lovely walk; the path was quite even and so it was no bother to push the pram. She must do this more often. She noted that the path was well worn, so some people must use it. Likely John, on his twice-daily rounds. But she doubted if Geoff would take this way in his daily constitutional because it would mean coming down that slope which, she thought, would test his leg too much.
Her thoughts back on him again, she asked herself a question; did she really care for him? And while she searched for the answer she pulled the pram to a standstill and gazed across the river, the surface of which was glinting like myriads of stars. The answer came; who else was there to care for? Or who was there to care for her and the child? She liked him. She could live with him, and the house was her home and his home. What other future was there for her? Judging by the expression on her face it was an unsatisfactory answer, and she pushed the pram on again. And then, there ahead, she saw the old barn. She hadn’t been around this way for years. She had once been inside and seen the relics of past torture on the walls, and her visit had given her an idea for a school composition entitled ‘Old Farm Implements’.
She was about fifteen yards from the barn when she heard the murmur of voices. And the wheels of the pram had turned full circle twice before she pulled it to a stop, as she watched two figures emerging through the open doorway. And when they stopped and their arms went around each other, the embrace was as passionate as the lingering kiss suggested. She felt her whole face stretching, while at the same time there seemed to be a roaring inside her head, and within seconds it seemed to have filled her whole body. She could even see its colour: it was almost black, a dark reddy black. It seemed to scorch her eyes.
Lizzie imagined that she must have been standing for minutes before their bodies moved apart. It was the woman who saw her first, and as she slowly pulled herself away from the man she pointed at her; and then the man turned, and she heard his reaction: ‘Lizzie. Oh God!’
Geoff made no move towards her as she swung the pram round to push it almost at a run along the path. Then she was in the open at last, well away from the scene…
‘Now don’t worry,’ he said as he put his arms around Janis again. ‘And you’re quite sure in your own mind? You won’t miss the highlights?’
‘What highlights?’
‘Aye, what highlights? But there’ll be some pretty lows for you. I might be a lieutenant but I’m still John Fulton’s son, and he’s just a grade above a farm worker; that alone will shut the remaining doors in your face.’
‘Geoff. Geoff. If you’re willing to take a chance, I am. The only obstacle, as I see it, is your father, and what his reception of me might be. As for…well, the girl: will she be able to stand it, me coming into the house?’
‘She’ll just have to take it or leave it. If she doesn’t take it I’ll make her the offer, as I said before, of fitting up your place for her. Anyway, dear, everything’s going to be all right now. Just go on back and tell your mother what she can do with Cornwall and Switzerland.’ He smiled a tight smile as he added, ‘And brace her for the shock that you’re going to marry that Fulton fellow, and when she sniffs I’ll hear it in the house, for sniff she will. It’s bad enough having me on the side, but marriage? She’ll fly to Cornwall now. Go on, dear. Go on.’
She did not move but, putting her arms around his neck, she slowly kissed him on the lips, saying, ‘It won’t be an easy passage, but…but I’ll try to make it as smooth as I can.’
‘I’ll see that you do.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she nodded at him slowly, ‘I’ve no doubt about that.’
As she went to walk away he caught at her arm, saying quietly, ‘If you should come across Ted—he’s made himself scarce lately—make a point of thanking him, because he’s been a good friend to you.’
She nodded once, saying, ‘Yes; yes, I will; but you don’t think he’ll hold it…I mean, hang it over my head?’
‘Not Ted. He carries a lot of secrets, does Ted.’
She was some distance from him when she turned and said, ‘When…when will I see you again?’
‘Later on tonight, at your place in town. It won’t take me all that long to find out what line Lizzie’s going to take.’
‘Look, Lizzie’—he was bawling at her now—‘come off your high horse and remember that marriage was never mentioned between us.’
‘No, it mightn’t have been in words, but you indicated it clearly enough.’
‘Well, that’s what you imagined; I was just trying to be decent and protective after you lost Andrew.’
‘Oh, don’t give me that. You wanted me, and if you had thought I was easy game and not the kind of girl your mother had brought up, except for my slip, as your father called it, you would have shown your hand in a different way. At times you had a job to keep up your brotherly attention. What do you take me for, a fool? Yet I must have been all these months. Your having to stay overnight in hospital! Funny that didn’t happen last year. Then you were in and out within a couple of hours. And her, above all people; Richard’s wife.’
‘She used to be Richard’s wife.’
‘Yes, she was Richard’s wife; but how many pseudo wives had she been before, and since?…Don’t you dare! You lift your hand to me and I’ll come back at you with the first thing I can lay mine on, and it’ll be that.’ And now thrusting out her arm, she picked up a twelve-inch bronze statue from the window sill, then went on, ‘And you’ve got the nerve to say you’re going to bring her here as your wife; and you expect me to stay here! What as? House parlourmaid? Housekeeper? Skivvy? And the alternative: to go into her flat in town with its two rooms and a scullery!’
‘You weren’t brought up in anything any better. In fact you’re…’
‘No, I wasn’t brought up in anything any better, but that wasn’t my fault, and you did your Sir Galahad piece and rescued me from a life of sin into which you seemed to think I was in danger of falling. But you’re mistaken, I fended for myself that night and I would have gone on doing so; and I emphasise again’—she now wagged the statue in her hand—‘that I would never become a Miss Janis Bradford-Brown, or yet forget that I was a Mrs Richard Boneford. And while I’m on, I’ll tell you this; it isn’t because of unrequited love, so to speak, that I’m blazing angry; it’s because I’ve been used. I was a sop to plug the hole that she made in your life. As you so charmingly admitted a while ago, she’s always been in your life; she’s always been the one. Well, now you’re welcome to her. And lastly, I’ll tell you this: I would rather take the child with me into the workhouse than stay here or take her flaming rooms, and I’ll be gone as soon as possible and be glad to get out of your sight.’
As his hand came out to grab her, she cried, ‘Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t come within yards of me! I’ll tell you this: I wouldn’t have minded, in fact, I would have understood, if you had come into the open straightaway, and you had told me you cared for her so much that you wanted to marry her and go off with her, but to tell me that you’re bringing her here, giving me no option but to put up with her or take her leavings. By God! Geoff Fulton, I could…yes, I could strike you with this, this minute!’ She flung the statuette down on to the couch, then stalked from the room, and almost knocked Meg over as she burst into the hall.
As Lizzie ran up the stairs, Meg followed more slowly, entering the bedroom as Lizzie was already pulling out drawers.
‘It had to come out, lass.’
‘Don’t talk to me, Meg, not yet. Don’t talk to me.’
‘All right, but I can help you to put your things together. I’ve got my bits and pieces already packed, and there’s some empty cases in the storeroom. I’ll get them.’
When she next returned to the bedroom, the bed was strewn with underclothes and baby-wear. Opening one of the cases, she knelt down on the floor by it, saying, ‘Hand me what you want to go in here, lass.’ And Lizzie did so.
When two cases were full, she got up from her knees saying, ‘There’s another one along there and some boxes. I’ll get them.’
‘Oh, Meg!’ Lizzie now flopped down on the side of the bed and, bending forward, she covered her face with her hands, her body shaking. But no tears came. She was still fused with anger. Meg sat down beside her, and put her arm around her waist and pulled her head on to her shoulder, saying, ‘What you goin’ to do, lass?’
‘I…I haven’t stopped to think, Meg.’
‘I have. But…but what I think isn’t goin’ to do much good, not for you, it isn’t. There’s my place, but after living in this house you’d go round the bend down there. It isn’t the smallness of it, it’s…well, the locality. I’m used to it, in fact, I like it; at least I did once. I don’t know how I’m goin’ to fit in when I go back. But somehow you’d find it hard, lass. Still, for what it’s worth, in the meantime you’re welcome, more than welcome, and it would be lovely to be with you for a bit longer.’
‘Oh, Meg, to think it’s come to this. At this moment, I’m wishing I’d never been taken away from Minnie Collier, as I always think of her. And you know, it wasn’t long after I left when I saw her again, and she said to me, “One day you’ll be sorry.” It’s…it’s as if her words have come true. There’s Midge, my sister. It must be three years since I saw her, and then we had hardly anything to say to each other. She was happy enough; in fact, I felt she was happier than I was. It was her twenty-first birthday and I took her a present. And there she was, her little house up to the eyes in dust and disorder, but she and her man and his people were having a right good time. I came away that day feeling strangely lonely, and apart from a Christmas card at the end of ’41, I haven’t heard from her since; nor have I troubled to write. And now, Meg, apart from you, there’s nobody.’
‘Don’t be silly, lass. There’s Mr Richard and his people.’
‘Oh, Meg; Meg. I wouldn’t dream of putting myself on them under these circumstances.’
‘No, no, of course not. Well, I’ll go and get the other boxes, lass, and then I’ll slip out and down to the phone box and call up Miss Thirble. I’ll go to the box because I don’t want Geoff to hear what I’m saying. She’ll still be in the office and I’ll ask her if I can have the key the morrow instead of next Monday. So, come on, lass; keep your pecker up; things’ll work out. Me mother used to always say, “As one door shuts another one bangs in your face.” But I don’t hold with that. No, I don’t hold with that.’
She went out and into her own room and, pulling on her blue serge coat and flat felt hat, she picked up her bag from the chest of drawers and hurried out and down the stairs. At the telephone table she tore a piece of paper from the loose pad and copied a number from out of a book that lay to the side of the pad, then left the house.
In a few minutes she was in the telephone kiosk and when she heard the voice at the other end of the line, she shouted, ‘Is that you, Mrs Boneford?’ And the voice answered, ‘No; but I’ll get her. Who’s speaking?’
‘Me name is Mrs Price. I’m…I’m a friend of Lizzie’s. Could I speak to Mr Boneford, please, Mr Richard Boneford?’
‘Oh, I’m afraid he’s away until tomorrow night, but I’ll get Mrs Boneford for you.’
Meg stood with the receiver pressed tightly against her ear, thinking, Lizzie said the maids had a thick Scottish brogue, but that one didn’t talk like that.
‘Hello.’
‘Oh, hello. Is that Mrs Boneford?’
‘Yes. Yes this is she.’
‘I’m Mrs Price; Meg; you know, Lizzie’s friend.’
‘Oh, yes, yes. Lizzie has talked a lot about you. How is she?’
‘Not in a good way, Mrs Boneford.’
‘She’s not ill?’
‘No, not that way, but…but she’s in trouble.’
‘What do you mean, in trouble?’
‘It’s…it’s a long story. Just a minute, I’ve got to put some more coppers in the box.’
When she resumed the conversation she shouted, ‘Are you there?’ And the voice answered her, ‘Yes, yes, Mrs Price, I’m here. You say Lizzie is in trouble. Can you tell me about it?’
‘Well, kind of brief, like. It’s Geoff, you know; the son of the house. Well, of a sudden he’s…he’s goin’ to…he’s sprung it that he’s goin’ to be married and…and he’s givin’ Lizzie the choice of stayin’ there, or goin’ livin’ in this woman Bradford-Brown’s house in Durham.’
‘What did you say? What was the name?’
Meg looked up at the roof of the kiosk. She shouldn’t have said any name. Well, she would find out in the end. She now put her lips close to the mouthpiece again and shouted, ‘I don’t know how you’ll take this, Mrs Boneford, but…well, it’s Mr Richard’s old wife; I mean, the one he divorced. She calls herself Miss Brown now.’
‘Never! Never!’
‘Aye. Aye. So you can see what Lizzie feels like, the predicament she’s in.’
‘Oh, my dear, something must be done.’
‘Well, I had an idea, Mrs Boneford.’
‘Yes? Yes, Mrs Price? Tell me what you think should be done?’
‘Well, just afore I came out, I put it to her that she should get in touch with you, but she wouldn’t have it. Takin’ advantage, or somethin’ like that, she said. So, if you could phone her in a little while and ask her to visit…well, I’m sure she would come. You see, I’m leavin’ an’ all, but I’ve only got a little house in Shields, and it isn’t what Lizzie’s been used to. She’s as welcome as the flowers in May, but she’d be as miserable as sin there, I know.’
‘Of course, of course, Mrs Price. Yes, I’ll do that. Richard is away at present, but he would want her to come here immediately. I know he would.’
The pips went again and she had to put more coppers in the box and again she yelled, ‘Are you there?’ And the answer again was, ‘Yes, yes, Mrs Price, I’m here.’ The voice was calm, reassuring, and it went on, ‘Now, I’ll try and do my best to persuade her over the phone, and you must reassure her that she is more than welcome and that we are dying to see the baby. How long shall I wait before I phone the house? Say, half an hour?’
‘Aye, yes, that would be fine. And thank you, thank you very much.’
‘You will be coming with her?’
‘Me? Oh no, no. I’ve got me own home, as I said.’
‘You would be very welcome, Mrs Price, and she seemed very fond of you. Moreover, it’s a long journey and I would feel happier if she had company.’
‘You’re very kind, missis, but…but…’
