A Little Learning

by Anne Bennett

  ‘You can’t monopolise me all night, darling,’ Therese chided. ‘I’ll be back soon. Drink your beer.’

  All night she teased and tantalised Ben and plied him with more drinks, until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. By the time she was ready to call it a day, Ben was unable to stand. ‘I’d better see he’s okay,’ she told her room mate. ‘Don’t wait up.’

  Lucas and Lydia shared the taxi and helped Therese carry the unconscious Ben to his bedsit. ‘You do know what you’re doing?’ Lydia asked urgently.

  ‘Course I do,’ Therese answered. ‘I’ve been waiting for a moment like this for months. I’m not going to waste it now.’

  When Ben Hayman opened his eyes the next morning, the throbbing in his head made him shut them again. He’d never felt so ill, and he wondered if he were dying. ‘Hello,’ said a voice beside him.

  He peered out through half opened lids. His mouth felt like sandpaper and his voice was husky. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said, realising in that moment that he was in bed with Therese Steinaway and that both of them were naked.

  ‘I brought you home in a taxi,’ she said. ‘You asked me to.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’

  Ben shut his eyes against the light. ‘I can’t remember anything,’ he admitted. ‘Was I very drunk?’

  ‘Pretty far gone,’ Therese said, and added, ‘We both were, I guess.’ In fact, she’d drunk very little, but she considered the lie a necessary part of her plan.

  ‘Wh … what else did I say?’

  ‘Lots of things. You told me you loved me, that I was a great girl and we were a great team together. Then you asked me to go to the States with you and suggested we go back to your room to cement our relationship,’ Therese said, getting out of bed and slipping into a bathrobe.

  ‘Oh, God!’ groaned Ben. ‘And did … did we?’

  ‘We sure did,’ Therese said, ‘and it was bloody marvellous.’

  Ben lay in bed, trying to make sense of what Therese had told him. What was he doing having sex with Therese when he was engaged to Janet? But was he still engaged? He shut his eyes tight and then vaguely remembered the letter, the one that said she wasn’t ready to marry him, the letter Therese said was a brush-off. He wished that his head would stop its pounding and he didn’t feel quite so sick.

  Therese came back into the bedroom at that moment with two steaming mugs of coffee, and Ben had to admit she looked wonderful and not at all hung-over. She saw the confusion he was in and decided to hit him while he was vulnerable. ‘You said some awful things about Janet last night,’ she said. ‘It’s maybe a good job you can’t remember those, even if you don’t love her any more.’

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘Of course you did, and you said you loved me,’ Therese said, adding indignantly, ‘I hope you don’t think I go to bed with anyone. It was only because you said you wanted to marry me, and I told you I’d join you in America later, that I agreed to come back to your room. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought you hadn’t meant what you said.’ She lowered her eyes and looked hurt. ‘I knew you’d had a bit to drink and so had I, but I really believed what you said. After all, it was my first time.’

  Ben felt a heel. He’d obviously taken advantage of Therese. He put his arm around her and drew her down beside him. ‘I do love you,’ he said, and at that moment he did.

  He remembered that Janet had rejected him, while Therese … Therese had agreed to marry him and follow him to America. He didn’t know if he wanted that, he didn’t know what he wanted. Suddenly, Therese’s arms were around him, her lips seeking his, and in minutes she’d slipped off the robe and they were making love again.

  He accepted a cigarette from Therese, and she nestled drowsily into the crook of his arm. He felt almost stupefied by what had happened and he inhaled the cigarette slowly, trying to get his head together.

  I wasn’t drunk that time, he thought to himself, and I wanted Therese as much, perhaps more than I’ve ever wanted Janet. He felt Therese stir and move against him as he wondered how he’d break the news to Janet that he loved someone else.

  They stayed in bed most of the day, something Ben had never done before. Any sexual experience he’d had had been snatched stolen moments, and he’d met no one like Therese before. She lowered her eyes demurely and thanked him for making lovemaking special for her and he swelled with pride.

  Later, with his headache almost gone and his stomach settled, she made scrambled eggs and brought it in on trays for them to eat in bed. Rejuvenated, they made love again afterwards and Ben was brought to heights he hadn’t known existed. They slept entwined together, and when they woke it was dusk. They dressed and sped through the darkened streets hand in hand to buy fish and chips and a bottle of wine, then returned to the flat and the bed with the steaming parcels and two glasses.

  ‘This is to us,’ Ben said and raised his wine glass. ‘To us and our future.’

  Therese held back. She had to know where she stood. ‘What about Janet?’ she said. ‘I don’t play second fiddle to anyone.’

  Ben looked at her and knew he didn’t want to lose the girl who obviously loved him so much and so very satisfactorily. Little had been denied to Ben in his life and he didn’t like people opposing him, and yet he felt bad about telling Janet there was someone else in his life. He would have felt worse had she not written that letter that Therese seemed to think meant she was getting tired of him. ‘Janet needs to be told about us,’ he said, ‘and yet I hate to write to her about it, especially now, because she’ll be taking her A levels soon.’

  ‘Well, we’ve got exams too,’ Therese reminded him. ‘Perhaps it would be better to wait a while.’

  ‘I’ll write to her afterwards and tell her how things are,’ Ben promised.

  ‘She’ll be pleased,’ Therese assured him. ‘You’ll be releasing her to be free, which must be what she really wants or the tone of the letter would have been different.’

  Ben thought Therese was probably right. After all, he reasoned, a woman would know these things. ‘So,’ he said, ‘Janet Travers is history.’

  Therese smiled and raised her glass. ‘To the future,’ she said, ‘and us.’

  By the end of that weekend Ben knew he couldn’t risk losing Therese. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She’d shipped many of her clothes from the flat she shared to Ben’s bedsit. It was crowded but as they spent most of their time in bed, it hardly mattered. Life was more comfortable for Ben anyway, as Therese cleaned and tidied, cooked nice meals for him and collected the washing and took it to the launderette in the town. She said she enjoyed looking after him and it was no trouble to her.

  Ben wrote a note to Janet explaining that they had much to discuss, but that they were both busy with exams and he’d get in touch later. He signed it, ‘Love, Ben’ and Janet was delighted.

  ‘He’s obviously coming round to my way of thinking,’ she told her aunt thankfully.

  ‘I thought he would. He’s a sensible chap,’ Breda said.

  Janet agreed happily and shelved Ben for the moment, putting all her energies into her A levels. This was what she’d strived for. The results of these exams would determine whether she’d made it to university or not. The whole house crept about on tiptoe, the television and wireless were turned low so they didn’t intrude on her study time, and Betty and Bert took her snacks and drinks that she seldom wanted and often forgot. Drinks would cool by her side as she struggled with revision, her appetite slashed by anxiety until Bert said there would be nothing left of her by the time the exams were over.

  She didn’t exactly fade away, but at the end of it all she was very skinny. Her eyes had blue smudges beneath them and seemed very big in her face, which was so thin it was almost gaunt. But it was over at last. Now, for better or worse, the exams were finished, and so were her school days.

  She went to see Claire, who she’d neglected slightly, and was upset to s
ee Chloe ill again. The child’s face was as pale as Janet’s own and she could hear her breath rasping in her chest. Janet, who knew Claire well, realised she was worried, but no one else would have picked it up. Certainly not Chloe, as Claire explained to Janet, while the child listened, that she was on the waiting list for an operation that would make her as ‘right as rain’ again.

  Later, with Chloe asleep, Janet asked Claire how dangerous the operation was, and Claire shook her head. ‘Dangerous enough,’ she said. ‘Any heart operation is, of course, but you see how she is now. Without an operation she has no future. This way at least she has a chance.’

  Janet didn’t tell Claire anything about America, thinking she had enough on her plate, and was surprised when she asked if Ben had accepted the research post. Then she recalled seeing Ben discussing it with Richard at the wedding. ‘Yes, yes, he has.’

  ‘Richard had some idea he was anxious for you to go with him next year,’ Claire said. ‘I told him you had too much sense to throw away everything you’d ever worked for.’ She was quiet for a moment then added, ‘I nearly did that once.’

  ‘You did!’

  Claire nodded. ‘Head over heels I was. I would have gone anywhere, done anything for the lad concerned. Then I woke up one morning and realised that not once had he considered what I wanted out of life. It was as if it was of no account and I’d have no identity but that of being his wife. He honestly thought he was bestowing some great gift on me and couldn’t believe it when I refused to ride off into the sunset with him without so much as a backward glance or a qualm.’

  Janet thought uncomfortably that the man Claire had rejected sounded a lot like Ben. He didn’t think her life was important except as an extension of his own. ‘I told Ben I wanted to get my qualifications before I made any decisions,’ she said.

  ‘Quite right,’ Claire said.

  ‘I’m expecting a letter any day,’ Janet said. ‘He said he’d be in touch when the exams are over and we both have more time.’

  But when the letter finally came, Janet read it with hands that shook. Then, unable to believe it, she read it again and again, though she could scarcely see the words for the tears that blurred her eyes. Then she threw herself on the bed and wept until she could weep no more, muffling the sound in her pillow. She couldn’t believe the evidence of her own eyes, and phrases kept returning to torment her mind.

  Obviously, wishing to defer plans for years is showing a reluctance to marry me at all. You are very young yet and maybe I was wrong to press you. Perhaps you are right, your parents would be unlikely to give their consent to our marriage, but I think it would be wrong to commit ourselves so far in the future, so I think it would be fairer to terminate our engagement. You can keep the ring if you wish.

  Ben had thought about adding ‘Perhaps we should see how we feel about things later’ but Therese told him there was little point in lying to her.

  Breda read the letter and handed it back to Janet with a grim face. ‘This is a guilt letter, Janet,’ she said. ‘He’s met someone else. That’s what this “fairer to terminate our engagement” means.’

  ‘No,’ Janet breathed softly. She wasn’t able to bear that.

  And then, as her aunt continued to stand in silence, watching, Janet asked, ‘How do you know? How can you be so sure?’

  Breda shook her head sadly and said, her voice full of sympathy, ‘Lass, for all the world I’d spare you the heartache that’s to come, but it’s no good. I’ve seen enough “Dear John,” letters in the war to recognise this as one in the same mould. My guess is that someone who’s had her eye on Ben for some time has slipped into your place, and he’s welcomed her.’

  ‘Oh, Auntie Breda, what shall I do?’

  ‘Live your life without him, what else.’

  ‘I can’t.’ The anguished cry burst from Janet’s soul.

  ‘You must,’ Breda said, almost roughly. ‘You have your life in front of you and it can be a good life, a fulfilled life. Don’t say it’s not worth living without Ben Hayman, because that’s bullshit.’

  ‘Auntie Breda,’ Janet cried, ‘have you ever felt like me? I can’t believe I can survive feeling this bad.’

  ‘Course you can,’ Breda said briskly. ‘Yes, I felt just like that with a man I loved who went to war and never returned. Somewhere out there will probably be a man who appreciates Janet Travers for who she is and not who he’d like her to be.’

  ‘But how will I cope now?’

  ‘With your head held high and a spring in your step,’ Breda said firmly. ‘You’ll cry in your bed and maybe in my house, but not in your own and not in public. You’ll show that bastard you don’t care about him if you have to drag up every ounce of self-respect to do it.’

  The words were easy, but the deeds were harder, and yet Janet did it. She told her parents about Ben’s post in the States. ‘Four years is a long time,’ Janet said, ‘and we both feel we should be free to meet others.’

  Betty breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the God she still prayed to nightly for delivering her daughter back to her and preventing her marrying a Jew.

  Janet returned the ring and wrote to Ben thanking him for the good times they’d shared. He was surprised, but pleasantly relieved, that she’d taken it so well.

  ‘I told you,’ Therese said, slipping the returned ring on to her own finger.

  Ruth was embarrassed to see Janet and wondered how much she knew about this Therese Steinaway, who’d been introduced to them as the future Mrs Benjamin Hayman. The families had met and approved of each other and everything was fine, except that Janet was the loser. Ruth reminded herself that she had warned Janet she wouldn’t be allowed to marry Ben, but her friend hadn’t seemed to take it seriously. Ruth hoped she wasn’t too upset, but being unable to help, she did not call to find out.

  Janet felt bowed down with depression and a sense of deep loss. Ben, like Claire’s lover, wanted everything his own way. He hadn’t been able to see things from her point of view and wasn’t even willing to give their separation a try. Apparently he could not even wait until they met in the summer to discuss it.

  Later, when she looked back on that summer, it appeared that the world had gone on without her, while she, trapped in unhappiness, hovered on the edge of it. In July Patsy miscarried a very much wanted baby, in August her grandad’s chest was so bad her gran had to have the doctor in, and as the summer drew to an end Chloe’s condition worsened and the operation was now of critical importance. Yet none of these things seemed to affect Janet. It was as if they were happening to people she didn’t know, she cared so little. The exam results came in the third week of August, and Janet opened the envelope to find she had her three passes, two A’s and a B. The way ahead was clear for her, but she felt no elation, nothing, and was almost frightened of the deadness inside her.

  That night, Ruth knocked at the Travers’ door. She had something to tell her friend and she owed it to her to be the one to break the news. They sat in Janet’s bedroom, as they’d done so many times before, and discussed their A level passes and their future plans. Janet longed to ask about Ben, but would not. She’d never done it and wouldn’t do it now. It was Ruth who brought his name up.

  ‘He’s getting married,’ she said, ‘the beginning of September. The girl is called Therese Steinaway and she’s pregnant.’ Ruth had to turn away from the anguished misery in Janet’s face, and yet Janet was not totally surprised that Ben had thrown her over for Therese Steinaway, whose name had appeared so frequently in his letters to her. She wondered how long he’d been in love with her and how long they’d been sleeping together. Had he gone straight from their magic place by the lake into the other girl’s arms? Or the previous Christmas, when he’d complained of Janet’s neglect, had he sought solace from Therese in New York?

  She wondered also how they could have messed up so badly, allowing Therese to become pregnant when she’d not finished her course, but it hadn’t been an accident.

  B
en had been concerned at first that their frantic lovemaking without taking precautions might have repercussions. ‘I’ll get something,’ he promised, but Therese shook her head. ‘I’ve got something,’ she said. ‘I’ve been to the clinic and got a cap.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Nothing you need to know about,’ Therese assured him.

  That had been in April; by July she’d decided he was enough in love to marry her. The exams were over, Janet Travers was out of their lives and so the cap stayed in Therese’s handbag. She fell pregnant straight away, as she guessed she would, and told Ben as they snuggled in bed together one night.

  Ben was shocked at first. ‘You said you’d deal with it.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ said Therese, looking contrite. ‘It was the night of the end-of-term party, I think. I was tired and rather drunk and I didn’t think you’d want to … you know … Anyway, I forgot to put it in and it was too late.’

  Tears squeezed out of her lovely eyes and trickled down her cheeks, and ashamed of his initial reaction, Ben gathered her into his arms. ‘Darling, I’m sorry. How could I be so thoughtless? Of course we must get married.’

  Their parents were slightly shocked at them pre-empting their marriage vows, and yet it wasn’t too bad, they were at least engaged and had intended marrying. It just meant bringing the wedding forward a little. Daddy Steinaway, who had a business as well as a house in New York, would sort out an apartment for them as a wedding present. And Ben realised that having Therese by his side and in his bed was far preferable to mooning around on his own for a year, yearning for her. Really it was better all round, and soon he would have a son, Ben Hayman Junior, to hold in his arms.

  Ruth didn’t know about Therese’s scheming yet she knew things weren’t right, and she’d resented the triumphant look Therese had thrown her one night as she said to her, ‘I believe you were friends with Janet Travers?’

  It was not what was said, but the way it was said, and Ruth felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise as she replied, ‘Yes, I was, and I still am.’