A Little Learning

by Anne Bennett

  Ruth posted it and wondered if it would do any good. Even if the couple turned out to be the right people, would Claire get in touch? According to Ben’s letter, Richard Carter had said his wife had been ill. Ill in what way? Mentally ill, perhaps? Or, God forbid, terminally ill? Well, anyway, she reasoned, the letter is sent and it can hardly do any harm, but the less Janet knows till we’re sure the better.

  So all she said to Janet was, ‘Never mind, it will be Christmas soon and you’ll have a break at least. And isn’t Simon being demobbed in the new year?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Janet, her eyes shining, ‘and fortunately before the January term starts again. He doesn’t want me to meet him at the station but in the flat, and he’ll come straight there. I think his mother was a bit upset he wasn’t going home. She was quite frosty when she spoke about it on the phone to me the other day.’

  ‘I don’t see why she should be,’ Ruth said. ‘It is you he’s engaged to.’

  ‘I know, but you know what mothers are.’

  ‘Oh, don’t I just,’ Ruth said with a groan, and both girls laughed together.

  Outside the day was blustery, grey and cold, but inside the flat it was warm and comforting. The table was laid for two with a white damask cloth and two crystal wine glasses on loan from Shirley. A centrepiece of silk flowers decorated the table, two candles stood either side and red napkins made a vivid splash of colour. Janet had been cooking all day and it was ready now just to heat up and serve. The prawn cocktails resided in their glass dishes next to the bottle of bubbly in the refrigerator Janet had just bought through the hire purchase scheme, and she was like a cat on hot bricks.

  Several times she’d run to the window to watch for a taxi pulling up, but when it actually did, she wasn’t there to see it and she came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel to see Simon framed in the doorway. His overcoat was open, a scarf loosely tied round his neck, and his cheeks were ruddy from the wind and cold that he seemed to bring in with him.

  But it was his eyes that held Janet’s, and she felt her heart thudding against her ribs. Simon flung his holdall to one side, took a step forward, shut the door with his foot and held out his arms. As Janet ran across the room to him, she felt herself enfolded and held close, and heard Simon say, ‘Oh, darling, how I’ve longed for this for months. I used to dream of holding you in my arms like this.’

  Janet was so overcome she could scarcely speak for a minute or two. It didn’t matter; she was happy and Simon seemed happy to stay locked together the way they were.

  When he eventually released her, Janet’s eyes were wet and her voice broken with emotion. ‘Are you hungry?’ she said. ‘I’ve cooked a special meal.’

  ‘Can it wait?’ Simon said. ‘It’s not food I’m hungry for.’

  Janet smiled. ‘We’ll eat later,’ she said, and taking him by the hand she led him to the bedroom, where they celebrated his homecoming very satisfactorily and for some time.

  Janet was glad that Simon didn’t expect to stay at the flat after his demob. She knew that if he did, her parents would know what was going on straight away. ‘I know,’ he said when she attempted a stumbling explanation of why he couldn’t move in. ‘You don’t have to make excuses. I know your family like to keep tabs on you.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Janet protested, ‘it’s just the way they are.’ Her parents often tootled over now on a Sunday afternoon in the car Duncan had found for them. Betty and Breda had even come up on the train for a day or two in the summer and Sally liked to stay for part of her holidays.

  Simon lodged with a mate, Kenny Slater, who he met during his time in the army. Kenny told him he got engaged before joining the army and left his fiancée installed in the flat they would both live in when they got married. The flat wasn’t in Leicester, but Loughborough just outside and near to Reynolds Construction, where Kenny had worked in sales and marketing before he went to do his national service, and he’d been assured that he could have his old job back after his demob. However, before the army was finished with him, the girl had written to say she was sorry but the wedding was off. Kenny was broken up, especially as it appeared from news filtered through that she’d run off with his best friend.

  Simon agreed to move into the flat with Kenny, knowing he couldn’t really afford to rent a place by himself. ‘It’s all right,’ he told Janet, ‘it’s sorted.’

  In fact Simon thought most of his life was sorted. Duncan had found him a nice little blue Ford Escort that made life a bit easier, and Kenny had wangled him an interview at his firm working in the research and development department, checking the suitability of construction materials. Simon was grateful, the job was interesting enough most of the time and the pay was reasonable. Added to that, it was fairly near to his flat, and with the car, not far from Janet, which meant she could stay where she was, doing the same job, and they’d still be able to see a fair bit of each other.

  After a while he began to wonder if that was such a good thing because he wasn’t totally happy about his relationship with Janet since he’d returned home. She was often tetchy and short-tempered with him. Sometimes she would apologise and blame her job, and other times she would snap that it was his fault and say he was being unreasonable.

  Simon worried about it and asked Janet if she was tired of him, but she always told him not to be so stupid. Eventually he decided to take action. ‘We’ve not been alone just the two of us since those two days we stole after the Christmas holidays,’ Simon said. ‘Do you remember?’

  ‘Um,’ said Janet drowsily, leaning back against Simon on the settee. She knew what he meant. Their evenings were usually spent down the pub or wine bar in the company of friends. On the occasions they did decide to have a night in, Shirley, Lou or Ruth would ring for a chat. Or other people from the block would call in for a coffee or to invite them out, or Kenny would wind up on their doorstep for a heart-to-heart with Simon, who’d usually end up driving him home later. And that took no account of Janet’s family, who expected to see her often and speak to her oftener. She knew Simon had a point.

  ‘Let’s go away,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘We are, it’s called a honeymoon.’

  ‘No, before that,’ Simon said. ‘The Easter holidays are coming up and I can wangle a few days off, I’m sure. To be honest, Janet, you look whacked.’

  Suddenly Janet was aware of how tired she really was. A holiday sounded just what she needed. ‘Where?’ she said.

  ‘Well, Britain in late March and early April is not very appealing,’ Simon said, ‘but I believe Spain is nice at this time of year.’

  ‘Spain?’ squealed Janet. ‘D’you mean it? Oh, Simon,’ and she threw her arms around his neck.

  He disentangled himself with a laugh. ‘Don’t strangle me,’ he protested, then he put his arm around Janet and held her tight. ‘It’s fairly reasonable price-wise as well,’ he said, ‘and I have a bit put by.’ He kissed Janet’s lips gently and went on, ‘And there’s no one I’d rather spend it on.’

  ‘Oh, Simon,’ Janet said. Her throat had a lump in it, so she said no more and held Simon tight.

  She knew her Aunt Breda was right. Simon was kind, considerate and loving and the right man for her. With him, her future would be assured, and now that he was home with her, there would be no doubts, worries or anxieties to threaten their happiness together.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘Not long now,’ Breda said one day, following Betty into her house after work as she often did.

  ‘No,’ Betty agreed, filling the kettle. ‘Four months and it’ll soon pass, but everything’s in hand.’

  ‘Is she excited?’

  ‘Hard to tell, but I don’t think so. Tell you the truth, she bites my head off if I go on, and the way she talks to Simon I’m surprised he puts up with it.’

  ‘Well, she works hard,’ Betty said. ‘I mean, it can’t be easy teaching in that school.’

  ‘Well, she didn’t have to bury herself away in a pla
ce like that, did she?’ Betty snapped. ‘Mind, I will agree, teaching can never be easy. Every teacher that had charge of the twins seemed to look strained.’

  ‘Amazing how they’ve calmed down now,’ Breda said. ‘Pity Dad didn’t live to see it. He always thought they would end up as millionaires or bank robbers.’

  ‘Well, they’ll likely be neither,’ Betty said with a laugh, ‘but I was so worn down with them myself, I often worried how they’d turn out.’ She busied herself making a cup of tea for her sister and herself and went on, ‘I always wished Bert would be firmer with them, but he always took their part. Course, he didn’t see them till they were six months and then not much after that, because they were always up to bed as he came in.’

  ‘And they’ve grown up so like him, both of them,’ Breda said, ‘except that they’re taller, of course.’

  ‘Yes, they’re turned six foot and only just fourteen,’ Betty said with pride, and remembered Bert saying that Conner and Noel were more intelligent than people imagined – except for Janet, who’d thought, like her dad, that there was more to the twins than met the eye. ‘Janet keeps their noses to the grindstone a bit. She was telling them the other day that before they know it they’ll have their ‘O’ levels staring them in the face, and it was time they became a bit more responsible.’

  ‘What about Sally?’

  ‘Oh, who can do anything about Sally?’ Betty said. ‘Janet said we spoil her and we’re letting her grow up too quick.’

  ‘You probably are, but Linda’s the same and if I say a word I’m the worst mother in the world. They certainly have more than we had, or Janet either, but that’s life, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose,’ Betty said. ‘Sally can twist Bert round her little finger. I mean, that racket you can hear from her bedroom is from the new transistor radio she got for her twelfth birthday, and if I go up and ask what she’s doing, she’ll likely say she’s doing her homework.’

  ‘With that row going on?’

  At that minute they heard Sally singing ‘Living Doll’ at the top of her voice, and Betty gave a wry smile. ‘It’s all they think about, rock and roll, Elvis Presley and now this Cliff Richard Sally and her friends keep on about,’ she said. ‘I mean, when our Janet was studying we all had to creep round the place.’

  ‘Well, that bleeding Luxembourg every night gets right on my nerves,’ Breda said. ‘Some of it’s not even tuneful, and when our Linda sings along with it … Course, if I complain, Peter reminds me that we were both young once.’

  ‘Fathers and daughters,’ commented Betty, shaking her head. ‘I tell you, Bert would try to take the moon from the sky if our Sally wanted it. Janet says we’re making a rod for our own backs, but what can you do?’

  Breda shook her head helplessly.

  Sally Travers was still small for her age, petite and fragile-looking. Her perfectly oval face was lightly tanned, her eyes were a brilliant blue, while her eyebrows were dark, as were her eyelashes, which were also long and curled. She had a fine-boned nose and a wide mouth, the only feature she shared with Janet, and her golden hair hung in natural ringlets down her back.

  She was truly beautiful. Bert was stunned by the lovely creature in their midst, Betty was almost awed by her radiance and popularity, and it seemed wrong to take the sparkle out of her eyes by refusing her anything. To Conner and Noel, she was the little sister they had always seen as a small and delicate baby doll. Now she was almost grown up and they were two of the most popular boys in school because their mates were always going on about their cracker of a sister. It seemed right that the lion’s share of money and attention should go to Sally.

  Betty was glad that money was easier now, for the new fashion items Sally always seemed to need. She had two layered lace underskirts which Betty had stiffened with sugar and which stood out so much, they wouldn’t fit in the wardrobe and had to hang from the picture rail covered with sheeting. Betty thought she looked a treat with a pretty coloured cotton frock over them, or a satin one for the young people’s dances in the church hall, but Bert often expressed disquiet over the length of her skirts.

  On the other hand, he didn’t like Sally in the tight slacks she liked. Or the large ‘Sloppy Joes’ she wore on top. ‘She looks as if she’s waiting to grow into it,’ Bert said glumly.

  ‘It’s the fashion,’ Betty said. ‘Like those awful winkle-picker shoes that I’m sure will cripple her feet, and yet Sally tells me everyone is wearing them now.’

  Betty had to agree with Bert, but she liked Sally to have the latest fashions like her friends. She’d watch her with a surge of pride, knowing that her beauty stood out even among her fine-looking friends, including pretty Kate Hopkins, Sally’s particular favourite.

  At home, where everything was hers for the asking and she got her way in everything, Janet’s approval was what she sought. She loved all her family, but between her and Janet there was a deeper bond. And yet Janet was sharp with her often and complained that she was a spoilt brat.

  She wasn’t charmed by Sally like everyone else, and she was often hard on her little sister, because she loved her so much and was afraid for her at times. She knew Sally was as bright as she herself had been, but partly because of her parents’ laxity and partly because of Sally’s own character, she was distracted easily. Fashion, music and having a good time all took Sally from her studies, and only the threat of Janet’s disapproval kept her from being ruined altogether.

  Sally was also almost too beautiful for her own good, and Janet was worried that it would turn her head and make her vain. She appealed to her parents to show more restraint in what they bought her, but it was useless. She knew that money was easier for them, but it still wasn’t a bottomless pit to throw at Sally in huge lumps.

  ‘You should see her,’ Janet complained to Ruth, when she came over to Leicester one Saturday and the two girls went into town to shop. ‘She has to have the latest this or that, everything in fashion. She had a record player for Christmas and she’s after Mom and Dad for records every week, and now this transistor radio she has on and blaring all over the house all the time. It’s lucky she’s so small because the clothes she has, if she was bigger you’d think she was fifteen or sixteen. And I found make-up in the drawer of her dressing table the other day when I was looking for a pencil. I tore her off a strip right and proper. God, Ruth, when I think of us at twelve …’

  ‘We were children, but we thought we knew it all, didn’t we?’ Ruth said. ‘But don’t be too hard on Sally, she is lovely-looking.’

  ‘I know. That’s what worries me.’

  ‘All your life you’ve worried about your family,’ Ruth said. ‘I wonder what you’ll do when it’s your own.’

  ‘Like Shirley, you mean?’ Ruth said, for they were on their way back to Janet’s after a visit to Shirley and her new infant son. ‘God knows, but I don’t intend to have any for some years. Getting married’s enough of a commitment right now. What about you?’

  ‘I want to get myself established first. I’m really only on the very first rung of the ladder. I’d have to give up all I’ve strived for if I got pregnant now.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Janet, getting to her feet. ‘Come on, this is our stop. We’d better get in and get the tea on, or Phillip will be in and there’ll be nothing made. Sure you can’t tell me what it is he wants to talk to me about?’

  ‘No,’ Ruth said. ‘I promised I wouldn’t, so don’t keep on. You’ll know soon enough.’

  It was less than an hour later that Janet was looking at the photographs Phillip had given her with hands that shook while she listened in horror to the tale he told of the distressed lady who’d called into his office. Her son had been born a mongol, Phillip said, like Chloe, and the woman – Greta – had eventually bowed to the pressure of the doctors and her husband and had her son sent away to be cared for. But she couldn’t settle until she knew he was happy, so she went to visit him in the Elmwood Home for the Mentally Handicapped, where he’d
been placed.

  Phillip went on, ‘The matron said they weren’t used to visits from parents and they didn’t encourage them as they upset the children. However, Greta insisted, and what she saw shocked her so much she had the urge to pick up her son and run. Instead she came to the paper. She said she’d never thought about children with mental handicaps before she’d had her child, and she’d be willing to bet most people were the same. She thought they ought to know what goes on in the homes.’

  ‘But how did you get the pictures?’ Janet cried, looking aghast at the rows of iron cots with babies of various ages lying flat beneath grey blankets and staring vacantly at the bare ceiling.

  ‘I posed as Greta’s husband,’ Phillip said, ‘and wheedled my way in. The point is, they’re not being cruel to the children – they care for them in their own way and honestly think that they will never be anything more than babies, so no effort is made to stimulate them. They couldn’t really do much more with the staff they have anyway. They had no objection to my taking photographs of my “son” as a keepsake. The others I sneaked in when they weren’t watching me.’

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ Janet declared vehemently, sifting through the pictures again. ‘This could have been Chloe’s fate.’

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ Phillip said gently, ‘and from what Ruth tells me, Chloe’s short life was a happy one.’