Convenient Women Collection

by Delphine Woods

  ‘He suffered,’ I said.

  She looked at her dirty hands what lay in her lap and picked at her nails.

  ‘He would’ve let you die, Bonnie.’

  ‘No,’ she breathed.

  ‘He would have let me kill you. He would have let you suffer so he could have me.’ She winced, so I kept chipping away. ‘He wanted to go to America with me. He said he had enough money for us to live like kings. He didn’t love you. He said he hadn’t love you for years –’

  ‘All right!’ She sighed, bit her lip. ‘I believe you.’

  My cheeks flamed. I dropped my gaze to the floor. What were I becoming? I’d never been so mean.

  ‘What was it like?’ she whispered. ‘Was he gentle?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘When he made love to you.’ She looked at me, but there didn’t seem to be any malice in her. ‘You were the widow, weren’t you?’

  There were no point trying to deny it. Again, heat scalded my face when I thought of the depths I’d sunk to for revenge. ‘Yes. He were gentle with me. He were kind.’

  She sniffed. She looked sadder now than she had done when I’d told her he’d plotted to murder her.

  ‘We never …’

  I waited, but she sucked her lips like she were holding her words in.

  ‘You never what?’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Tickled.’

  I think my jaw must have dropped. I almost laughed because it were such an unbelievable notion, yet she were so defeated, so shrivelled and small, that I couldn’t see why she’d lie. ‘Why?’

  Her fingers fluttered towards him as if she would touch his arm, but she stopped before she reached him. ‘It were only ever a weapon, something I could use against somebody to get what I wanted from them. I never did it with Frank because I loved him, and it never meant love to me. I didn’t realise it meant so much to him.’

  ‘He’s a man.’ I didn’t know if I believed what I had been told; I hoped I were wrong about men. I said it more as a way to console her.

  ‘I suppose I should have known. Things were never the same with us since Bridgefield.’

  Nothing had ever been the same since they’d gone to Bridgefield. If only they’d never walked across that bridge. If only she’d chosen someone other than Mrs Campbell.

  We sat there, thinking the same sorts of things, no doubt. What both of us would have given to have never laid eyes on each other.

  ‘I thought I’d seen it wrong after Pa died,’ I whispered. Now was the time to explain, to tell the truth. Neither of us could hide any longer.

  ‘All them little touches, them little kisses; I didn’t understand them at the time, I just knew something weren’t right. But after he died, I couldn’t bear to think he were capable of such a thing. Not when he’d had my ma at home, waiting for him. So I convinced myself that I’d been wrong.’

  I opened my bag and took out the handkerchief. ‘I hadn’t seen this in years. You never asked about my ma, Bonnie. Did you feel too guilty about her?’

  She shrugged, but her eyes was misting up.

  ‘She were so sad after Pa had gone. She never smiled, and she were always smiling before. She lasted five years until it were too much, and then she walked herself down to the bridge in her black mourning dress and threw herself into the river.’

  Bonnie blinked, and a tear spilled onto her cheek.

  ‘Someone saved her. Grandma were ashamed. First Ma were the wife of a murderer, then she were sinning again by trying to kill herself. Grandma got her changed out of that gown and put her in this one’ – I gestured at what I were wearing – ‘and then sent her away. Three years Ma were in the asylum until she finished herself not two weeks ago. I went to see her and, you know, she looked so pretty again. I think she’d gone back to Pa. It were like she were smiling.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, and sniffed because I had to be strong to say all this; I weren’t going to start crying before I got to the truth of it all. ‘I got her things what she’d had with her when they took her to that place. Her dress, her shoes, her bonnet, this locket, and this handkerchief.’ I held it up before me. Bonnie couldn’t look at it. ‘And then I knew that I’d been right, that what I’d seen really had happened. That Pa had really done that to Ma, to us.

  ‘Pa loved this handkerchief, you see. He kept it in his pocket close to his chest, and he’d hold it to his face sometimes and smile, and he never blew his nose on it or nothing like that. His name stitched so beautifully … stitched by someone he loved and given as a gift. Stitched by you, Bonnie.’

  She shook her head, and another tear dislodged from the rim of her eye.

  ‘Yes, Bonnie. I know it were you because my ma had never learnt to read or write. She were only the daughter of a washerwoman, see, though she were the prettiest girl in the town. Any boy would have married her just for her sweet face, but it were Pa what got her. They was the happiest man and wife in all of Bridgefield. Until you came along.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

  ‘What were so special about you? Why did he want you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I was different.’

  Such a simple answer, and I knew it to be true. How fickle we all were!

  ‘I know you killed Nicholas Campbell, Bonnie.’

  She didn’t deny it. Her chin sunk onto her chest, and she closed her eyes.

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  She took in a long, deep breath, and when it came out of her, it juddered and made her whole body shake.

  ‘Your father was sacked by Nicholas for fiddling the books. You didn’t see any of the money from it because it all went to me. He was fiddling the books for me.’ She smiled briefly. ‘He was a nice man, your father. He was handsome and kind, and he really loved you, Luella.’

  ‘Don’t.’ I didn’t want to hear it.

  ‘He did. I know you hate him, but he did love you, and he loved your mother too.’

  ‘Then why did he –’

  ‘Don’t we all do foolish things?’

  That brought me up short. But to explain it as foolish didn’t do it justice.

  ‘I was devastated when he was sacked because it would make things harder for me. It was easy money. And then Nicholas was there all of the time, and it was almost impossible to take anything without him noticing.’ She sucked her lips over her teeth and bit at a flake of dry skin.

  ‘Frank and I were due to leave that night. There was no point in us being there any longer. I had gone into the study for a last look round to see what we could take with us, and Nicholas caught me. I know what I did was wrong, Luella, but that man was evil. He attacked me, not in the way I said before; he beat me. He threw me from wall to wall, calling me all sorts of vile names. For a moment, I thought I was going to die, but then he threw me against the mantelpiece, and I found a fire poker. When he came for me again, I hit him with it. He went down immediately.’

  She clutched her hands together in her lap. I wished they’d been clean; the sight of them covered in dirt like that were making me uneasy.

  ‘Frank came. He’d heard some of the commotion. He checked to see if I was hurt. I told him I had a plan to fix things. I told him not to worry. And he didn’t.’

  ‘You went for Pa.’

  She nodded. ‘I went to his house and got him.’

  ‘I know. I heard you at the door, and I followed you back.’ That did surprise her.

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Frank running away. I saw you, shaking and crying. I waited behind the trees as you and Pa went inside.’

  ‘Your father was only protecting me.’ I could see the working of her jaw as she ground her teeth. ‘Not just me.’ Her hands rose to rest on her stomach. ‘I said I was pregnant. I said the child was his.’

  You know when you think you haven’t heard something right because it just don’t make sense? That’s how I were feeling. I couldn’t speak.

  ‘That’s why he died for me, Luella.’


  She closed her eyes. I just sat there and thought of Bonnie with a baby; it were impossible.

  I made my voice work. ‘He gave himself up to save the baby.’

  She nodded.

  ‘You never had a child, did you?’

  She shook her head.

  I didn’t know what to say. So long I’d thought him a fool, a villain for what he did to Ma. He still were, in a way, but now I could understand him a bit more. My pa would never have let his own flesh and blood die.

  I should have hated Bonnie. I should have run at her and clawed her skin off her face. But you know what? All I could think about were what an awful mess everything were. What a sad, painful mess everything had turned out to be.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Bonnie whispered, and I think, probably for the first time in her whole life, she meant it.

  I passed some minutes crying. It were one of them tired cries, when you don’t make a sound, and the tears just roll down your cheeks because you haven’t the strength to wipe them away.

  Bonnie said nothing. She didn’t try to comfort me or defend her actions, and I were grateful for the silence because in the quiet, I could remember Pa.

  I remembered him being led to the scaffold, his hands bound behind his back, his head down and his face calm as everyone shouted at him. It weren’t a friendly crowd. Killing Nicholas Campbell had put the carpet factory in trouble, and the staff was out and showing their anger. But Pa didn’t take no notice of what he got called, and his legs didn’t shake as he mounted the steps, and he didn’t baulk at the sight of the noose what were waiting for him.

  He didn’t wish to speak any last words. He refused the cap. I remembered Ma sobbing all the time and how she crushed my hand as she held it tight. She’d told me not to come, but she hadn’t had the strength to stop me. She’d told me not to watch, but she didn’t take her eyes off Pa to know that I too couldn’t look away.

  When the noose were slipped over his head and the knot brought under his ear, he searched the crowd and found us. It were the first time I’d ever seen him scared. His eyes watered, his chin wobbled, and Ma shouted out his name and that she loved him. A sob escaped from him, and he lowered his head as if he were too ashamed to look at us.

  That were the last time I met my pa’s gaze.

  When he lifted his chin next time, he were searching for something else. When he found it, the frown fell off his face, his tears dried, and he nodded once. I followed his gaze and saw Bonnie stood amidst the townsfolk in her silk gown with a bonnet pulled close to her face to protect her from the rain. I scowled at her, hating the beauty of her, when the crowd gasped and Ma screamed. When I faced Pa again, he were several inches lower than where he’d been before. His face were turning red and his eyes was popping out and he were jerking around in mid-air.

  I hadn’t known then that the hangman were being merciful when he’d pulled on Pa’s legs. I’d started to scream as Pa went redder and redder and then purple. His face had puffed up as the hangman dragged him down with all his strength. I’d shouted with the crowd for the hangman to let off him, and at one point, I prised myself out of Ma’s grip and went charging for the scaffold ready to beat that man off my pa, but folk had stopped me and wrestled me back to Ma.

  We was at Grandma’s that night. I never saw Pa or Mrs Campbell ever again.

  I were never a child again.

  Chapter 15

  We made an awful sound, grunting and panting, as we dragged Frank through the woods. Several times we fell over and went splattering into the undergrowth. Our clothes tore on branches; our skin ripped on brambles; our hair got snagged out of its roots. We sounded like sailors for all our cursing. Frank were over a head taller than both of us and weighed something shocking, and we needed to take him far enough into them trees so there were little chance of anyone finding him any time soon.

  God knows how long we struggled. The leaves was so thick they blocked out any moonlight, so we was working in near on pitch black most of the time. But in the end, we got to a section thick with trees and bushes, and the ground beneath our feet felt spongy and soft, and as we dragged him along some more, my foot went squelching straight into some water.

  ‘Wait!’ I went on all fours and fumbled around in the darkness. My hands was covered in icy water, and I crawled into it further, feeling it get deeper and deeper; it were coming up to my elbows and then to my shoulders. It smelt stagnant, and I dreaded to think what were in there, but there were a cover of blown leaves on its surface, and I thought if we could get Frank’s body into it properly so that the water covered him, then the leaves would hide him even better.

  ‘Put him in here.’ I grabbed the shoulders of his jacket and pulled, while Bonnie pushed at the other end.

  We worked by listening, and we heard his body slither over the wet dirt and then the water splash and lap at him. After a few more shoves, I ran my hands over him and were fair on certain that he were submerged. I kicked leaves and dragged twigs on top of him nevertheless, just to be on the safe side, and then both of us lay back on top of that soggy forest floor and rested.

  Things moved and scurried all around us. I felt something like a spider’s web fall over my forehead but didn’t brush it off. My hands and feet was beginning to tingle with the cold from the water, though the rest of me were sweating, and I could feel Bonnie’s heat buzzing off her as she lay beside me.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whispered once my breath were back to normal. ‘For Frank.’

  She didn’t say anything, but I’d seen the pain on her face earlier when we’d talked about what we had to do with his body and the way she looked at him when she knew she’d never be able to visit his grave. I’d felt a bit of triumph knowing that I’d hurt her like she’d hurt me, but the feeling had been only fleeting.

  ‘I should have told you the truth when you asked for it,’ Bonnie said, and I could hear the regret in her voice.

  I wondered what I’d have really done if she’d told me the truth at the inn when I’d asked for it. Would I have gone away as I’d promised? I liked to think I would have. Maybe I’d have been halfway across the ocean by now. Maybe Bonnie would have never known Frank’s disloyalty. Maybe I wouldn’t have had a man’s blood on my hands and be damned for eternity.

  ‘Come on.’ I felt for her arm and pulled her up. ‘We need to get back and get going before the light comes.’

  We managed to find our way out them woods (God knows how, more by luck than judgement) and got back to the house. We was in such a mess! Torn and bleeding and drowning in muck. We washed each other with water from the well and brushed each other’s hair and helped each other into clean dresses (Bonnie gave me one of hers seeing as I had no other). She put her ring next to her heart, and I put my locket next to mine, and neither of us said a word to the other about it.

  We found the lock to the chest in a set of drawers in the bedroom along with roughly one hundred pounds in notes. Frank had taken lots of the trinkets and sold them, so it seemed, as when we opened the chest half of the stuff were gone.

  Bonnie split the money between us, then started stuffing the rest of the trinkets in her bag. It were as she were doing this and coming to the bottom of the chest when I saw something familiar: a pretty china saucer with gilt on the edges. It were Mrs Campbell’s, what I’d seen her pour milk into so many times to give to her kittens in the barn. And then a silver teapot what she’d made tea for me in. And a hand mirror what had roses painted on the back of it. A gold thimble what had a pattern of flowers round the base of it, the petals filled in with turquoise stones. A cake knife, a few necklaces of gold and diamonds and pearls, some silk gloves, a ring with a ruby set into it.

  Every piece held some memory of Mrs Campbell. How she’d been robbed!

  Bonnie took particular care of not looking at me, and I couldn’t bring myself to speak to her for a while. I wrapped Mrs Campbell’s things in a bedsheet and carefully packed them into my bag. Bonnie didn’t try to stop me. She offered me more
of the stolen items, but I didn’t want them. I weren’t taking Mrs Campbell’s stuff for the price of it; I were taking it so I could keep a part of her with me forever.

  Bonnie couldn’t fit all of the trinkets into her bag. She made sure the stuff she left were the cheapest and the sort what wouldn’t be recognised as belonging to anyone in particular. We did a last run round the house making sure no trace of us remained, and then we blew out the candle and headed for the road. Bonnie looked back once, and I thought she might have cried a little, but she didn’t.

  We walked for hours as the next day started up all around us. We was both a bit on edge, and could you blame us? We hopped on a stagecoach for the last few miles into the city and didn’t say a word to each other until it stopped in Bristol.

  Bonnie opened the door, but I didn’t move.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said. Outside the coach, the noise of the city were loud. ‘We best hurry.’

  ‘I ain’t going to America.’

  She frowned, then shut the door so we was back in the quiet, just the two of us. ‘What do you mean? We have to.’

  ‘You have to, Bonnie. No one saw me.’ I didn’t mean it to sound nasty, I were just being honest. ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t going back to Bridgefield?’

  ‘I ain’t.’

  ‘Then where?’

  I shrugged. ‘North.’

  She smiled. ‘No point in breaking a habit.’

  I nodded, returned her smile.

  ‘I thought we were going to go together?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s for the best,’ I said. ‘We wouldn’t last long cooped up in a boat for weeks on end. I’d probably push you overboard.’

  She laughed. It were a very real possibility.