The Woman in the Wood

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘Are you off now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘It was good to meet you and Duncan. Where is he?’

  ‘Oh, he’s gone out into the forest, he loves it there. Did you need him for something?’

  ‘No, not really.’ Grainger smiled warmly at her. ‘I had thought we could’ve had a little chat, you know, man-to-man stuff. But do tell him if either of you ever have any worries or problems you want to talk over, pop in to see me, or ring me.’ He handed her a card. ‘I mean it now. I realize that it might be difficult to discuss some things with your grandmother. I can’t boast I have much influence there, but I am a good listener and sometimes that’s all we need.’

  Maisy looked at his card thoughtfully for a moment or two. ‘Thank you, Mr Grainger, it was a pleasure to meet you. I see you are in Southampton. That’s a place Duncan and I would like to visit, especially to see the big ships in port, bound for exotic destinations.’

  ‘I hope you will come to see me then, Maisy – maybe while you’re on holiday this summer?’

  Maisy watched him as he continued down the garden path to his car parked just outside the gate. She liked the lithe, smooth way he walked; it reminded her of a cat. She had observed that men wearing dark business suits always seemed to have a stiff gait, and until now she had assumed it was caused by their suits, but the way Mr Grainger walked made her think that his naked body might be lean and muscular.

  Thinking such a thing startled her. Why would she consider what any man looked like without his clothes? But then she’d had a lot of strange thoughts recently – imagining dancing with a man’s arms around her and wondering how it felt to kiss a man on the lips.

  She smiled to herself, imagining walking into Mr Grainger’s office and confessing that to him. After all, he had said it might be difficult to discuss some things with her grandmother.

  ‘I don’t think you can tell anyone such things,’ she murmured to herself.

  5

  On the Saturday afternoon following Mr Grainger’s visit to Nightingales, Maisy was lying on her bed reading when Duncan burst into her room, red-faced and sweaty-looking. ‘Guess what? I actually spoke to Grace Deville today,’ he blurted out. ‘We had a real conversation!’

  Maisy closed her book and sighed. ‘About what?’

  ‘Owls,’ he said. ‘She’s got one as a pet.’

  ‘You can’t surely have one as a pet,’ she said in disbelief, but she sat up, suddenly all ears. ‘Does it sit on her shoulder?’

  ‘No, of course not. When I say it’s a pet, she’s got it in a cage. She’s reared it from a chick. It had fallen out of its nest. She feeds it on bits of raw meat.’

  ‘So how did you get near enough to her to find out such a thing?’ she asked. She was actually sorry she hadn’t gone with him; doing crochet had proved quite boring.

  ‘I was spying on her and she tripped over in her garden and banged her head. I went to help her up and she was really dizzy, so I got her some water and bathed her head for her.’

  ‘Gosh, you got that close!’ Maisy said in disbelief. ‘What was she like to you?’

  ‘Still frosty, but she was shaken up and so I think she was glad I’d come along when I did. I had to go into her house to get a bowl and a cloth; it’s really cosy in there, but she cooks on a fire and she has an oil lamp for light.’

  ‘Wish I’d seen it. I bet I could give it a better description than that! So what did you talk about to her?’

  Duncan grimaced. ‘Well, it was a bit one-sided. I told her about us coming to live with Grandmother, cos Mother was ill. I hoped she’d tell me stuff about herself.’

  ‘But she sent you off with a flea in your ear?’ Maisy laughed.

  ‘Not exactly. We started talking after I’d cleaned her wound. She said I was a kind boy. Then she asked if I wanted to see her owl. I did, of course. She even gave me a bit of rabbit meat to feed him. He took it from my hand. She calls him Barney as he’s a barn owl. But I got the feeling she wasn’t that comfortable with me being there and I thought it best to leave before she told me to go. That way I can go back to see how she is.’

  ‘So you didn’t actually learn anything more about her?’ Maisy grinned.

  ‘I think I did well to get a foot in the door,’ Duncan said indignantly. ‘But when I go back I’m not taking you as I need to tread carefully.’

  That irritated Maisy but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. ‘I can’t think why you’d want to go back – she’s obviously barmy. I’d rather meet up with people who want to know me.’

  ‘She’s not barmy.’ Duncan’s lip curled the way it always did when he felt belittled. ‘I’d say she was highly intelligent; she told me quite a lot about owls. She paints too. When I went in her house I saw she was doing a watercolour of some wild flowers, and it was very good. So tell me about your afternoon doing crochet. Was it exciting?’

  That question was pure sarcasm and it stung.

  ‘Exciting isn’t always what one wants,’ she bit back. ‘I enjoy being creative, it’s so satisfying.’

  The twins didn’t speak to each other over their supper. Afterwards Janice asked if they wanted to play Scrabble with her. Duncan said he had a book he wanted to read, and Maisy thought that an excuse to get away from her. ‘I think I’ll do some more crochet,’ she said. ‘I’m really getting the hang of it now.’

  Duncan left the kitchen first; Maisy stayed on to dry the dishes.

  ‘Have you two had a falling-out?’ Janice asked.

  ‘Not exactly, we just don’t seem to want to do the same things any longer.’

  Janice raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, I can’t see Duncan wanting to crochet. What does he want to do?’

  ‘Just career around the forest on his bike,’ Maisy said. ‘I can’t see the point in that. I want to do girls’ things, like dancing, looking in shops, reading fashion magazines.’

  Janice smiled. ‘You both need friends of your own sex. When I was still at the orphanage in Southampton us girls spent our spare time doing one another’s hair. Of course when I came here to work I had no one young to talk to.’

  ‘Were you lonely?’ Maisy asked.

  ‘Yes, I was. Sometimes I used to cry myself to sleep because of it. I did make friends a bit later on with another maid in the village. She was called Pauline, but she used to scare me because she was always after the boys.’

  ‘Didn’t you like boys?’

  ‘I was terrified of them. One of the nuns at the convent used to go on and on about men only wanting one thing. I didn’t know then what the one thing was – I imagined them sucking your blood like a vampire!’

  Maisy squealed with laughter and Janice joined in. ‘In fact, I hadn’t the first idea about babies, men or anything until I met Pauline,’ she said as her laughter subsided. ‘I was what you might call a late developer.’

  ‘I think I am too, I don’t know much about that sort of thing,’ Maisy admitted shamefacedly. ‘The girls at school used to whisper about things, but I never knew if they were making it up.’

  ‘I’d tell you but I think I’d be too embarrassed, and maybe get it wrong,’ Janice said. ‘But I can get you a book about it from the library if you like?’

  Maisy blushed scarlet. ‘Umm, thank you, Janice, that would be kind. I’d better go now and make it up with Duncan.’

  On the first Tuesday of what was to be their holiday from lessons with Mr Dove, Maisy caught the bus into Lyndhurst alone to go to the ballroom dancing classes she’d seen advertised. She was nervous because she didn’t often go to places by herself. Duncan had refused point-blank to come with her. He said he was going into the forest to make a camp with Colin, his new friend in the village.

  Maisy hadn’t met Colin yet and she didn’t want to; he sounded very uncouth. Duncan was cross with her for saying that. He told her that she was a snob and it wasn’t Colin’s fault that his father was only a farm labourer and they lived in a council house.

&
nbsp; As the bus trundled along through the more open, heath-like parts of the forest, Maisy looked out for the wild ponies, and thought how wonderful it was to live in a place where horses and other animals could just wander at will, foraging for food. After having to stay indoors in London, only going out under close supervision, it was so lovely to have freedom at last.

  Grandmother had approved of ballroom dancing lessons; she said it was an essential skill for all young people. She even gave Maisy ten pounds to buy a suitable dress and shoes, and said it was a shame Duncan had to be so silly, thinking dancing was for sissies.

  Maisy was carrying her new silver dancing shoes in a bag. They had three-inch heels with a T-bar strap which she was told was essential so they didn’t slip off while she was dancing. Night after night Maisy had been practising walking and dancing in the shoes because she’d never had any high-heeled shoes before. She loved them so much that every morning when she woke up she tried them on and admired the way they made her legs look so slender.

  The dress she’d bought wasn’t as exciting as the shoes, only white with navy blue polka dots, but the skirt was a full circle, so when she twirled around it looked good. Janice said she would run her up a net petticoat to make the skirt look more bouncy. But for now, until she’d mastered a couple of dances, an ordinary petticoat was enough.

  Arriving at the village hall, Maisy’s palms were clammy with nerves and her heart was thumping. Once inside she saw there were only three boys, the rest were all girls, and that made her feel a little less nervous.

  Mrs Crocket, the dancing teacher, was dressed in pale pink tulle, her red hair piled up on her head in extravagant curls. Maisy had heard she was a ballroom dancing champion, and she looked it. Everyone was ordered to put on their shoes, and a record was put on a wind-up gramophone. The song was ‘Lonely Ballerina’ and Mrs Crocket said they would be learning to waltz to it.

  She put everyone into couples, ignoring girls who said they wanted to dance with their friend. When she came to Maisy, she took her hand and led her to a tall, slender brunette. ‘Linda, you will be the man for now, and this is your partner.’ She waited for Maisy to say her name.

  ‘Maisy and Linda,’ she said. ‘You will dance together until such time that I decide you need new partners.’

  ‘Haven’t seen you before,’ Linda whispered. ‘Hope I don’t tread on your toes in those pretty shoes.’

  ‘I haven’t been around here long,’ Maisy whispered back. ‘I haven’t a clue about ballroom dancing, so I hope I don’t embarrass you.’

  Mrs Crocket went through instructions of step back on your right, left foot to the side, then slide feet together to go forward on the right again. The boy partners had to do the same but going forward. Then, after showing them the correct hold for the dance, she put the music on.

  Mrs Crocket called out her instructions and for those who were in difficulties she went up to them and demonstrated, dancing alongside them.

  Linda and Maisy caught on really quickly and were soon doing the steps without having to chant the movements out loud. After about twenty minutes, when Mrs Crocket had got everyone taking the right steps, she moved on to show them how they should rise and fall.

  By the end of the hour-long lesson, almost everyone could do the waltz, though some looked better doing it than others. Mrs Crocket singled out Maisy and Linda for praise, and told everyone to practise until they came again in two days’ time.

  They put their street shoes back on and as they left the hall Linda asked Maisy if she’d like to come to her house for a cup of tea and a chat.

  By the time Maisy caught the 5.45 bus back to Burley, she had a new best friend, and couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Linda was the daughter of Dr Evans, the local GP. Her mother was his receptionist. The practice was at their home, a large, red-brick Victorian house, with most of the ground floor taken up by the surgery and waiting room.

  Maisy didn’t meet Linda’s parents, as they had an antenatal clinic that afternoon. Linda took Maisy through a side door and up a boxed-in staircase to the apartment above.

  Maisy was impressed because it was very modern inside, especially the kitchen, which looked straight out of an American Doris Day film, all pretty pale blues and cream with flouncy checked curtains.

  Linda went to a boarding school, and so she said she was in the same situation as Maisy, not having any real friends in the village.

  ‘The local girls think I’m toffee-nosed,’ she laughed, as she made them both a cup of tea. ‘I joined the dancing class hoping to make some pals as I don’t want to spend the whole summer on my own. I felt a bit sick when I got there and everyone was in pairs, except for those three drippy boys. I didn’t want any one of them putting his arms around me!’

  She told Maisy a little about her all-girls school, which she made sound really grim, and that her father had plans for her to become a doctor like him. Because of this, Maisy felt she had to be careful what she said about her mother, so she just said that she and Duncan had come to stay with their grandmother because their mother was ill.

  Fortunately Linda was far more interested in hearing about Maisy’s twin brother than about her mother, and having established family history they moved on to films and music they liked.

  ‘I can’t wait till Thursday for the next dance lesson to see you again. Can you meet up tomorrow?’ Linda asked as she walked Maisy to the bus stop. ‘We could meet halfway if you’ve got a bike.’

  Maisy eagerly agreed, saying that she did have a bike and would love to meet up.

  ‘Super!’ Linda grinned. ‘It’s going to be fun riding around the forest. Let’s both bring a picnic and we can share.’

  Now as Maisy rode home on the bus she thought she’d never been so happy. She really liked Linda. She was more striking than pretty, with her almond-shaped dark eyes and high cheekbones, and so outgoing, genuine, along with being funny too. The whole of the summer was looking like it would be exciting now. She just hoped Duncan wouldn’t feel left out.

  When Maisy told Duncan about Linda he didn’t look the least bothered about the possibility of being left alone. He muttered something about building a camp but didn’t reveal if there were boys involved other than Colin, or even where it was. As far as Maisy was concerned, he was happy enough and she didn’t have to concern herself with him.

  The following day she and Linda rode their bikes in the forest. On Thursday there was another dancing class where they learned the rudiments of the quickstep. Friday it rained and Maisy stayed at home and made cakes with Janice. On Saturday she caught the bus to Southampton with Linda to look in the shops.

  Sunday was always dull, as Grandmother insisted they went to church with her and Janice, and then the twins had to have afternoon tea with her.

  They didn’t mind the church service so much, but they hated the way local people peered at them. The vicar waited in the porch after the service to shake hands with his parishioners, and many of them lingered in the churchyard to chat. They often buttonholed Maisy or Duncan to tell them they were old friends of their father, or some similar connection. The twins hated it. They knew people suspected there was some juicy story to explain why they were here with their grandmother and they wanted to dig it out.

  Grandmother didn’t approve of them going off anywhere on Sundays other than for a brief walk after lunch, but on this occasion Maisy was quite glad of the quiet time up in her bedroom. She worked on different ways of doing her hair and tried on her clothes to see if any of them could be altered to seem more adult. She had blouses with prim little Peter Pan collars; she even had a dress with smocking across her chest that made her look like she was nine.

  She was very relieved Linda favoured wearing shorts and a loose blouse. Maisy liked herself in them too as she knew her legs were good; she just wished her breasts would hurry up and grow so she looked as adult as Linda, who was already a respectable 34B.

  Maisy hadn’t needed to wait for Janice to get th
e book about reproduction from the library because it transpired over their picnic that Linda knew it all, and she explained it clearly after Maisy admitted she didn’t know anything. She thought Dr and Mrs Evans must be very sophisticated, because it was they who had taught Linda. Linda even smoothed out a sandwich bag and sketched a woman’s belly showing where the ovaries and the womb were, and explained how her egg could be fertilized by male sperm to make a baby.

  Maisy giggled as Linda told her about the male part in making a baby. She didn’t really believe their penis could grow to two or three times the size, to go into a woman. She wasn’t even sure where Linda meant it would go. Perhaps Linda realized this, for she then told Maisy she should explore herself a bit.

  ‘My mum said it’s no good waiting until you get married and hope your husband knows everything, because he probably won’t. She said all women should arm themselves with knowledge as they are the ones that stand to lose most if they have a baby before marriage. And it can be utter misery being married and not enjoying sex because you are ignorant about how it works.’

  That was the most astounding thing Maisy had ever heard. She really couldn’t believe someone of her own age could be so adult and sophisticated.

  All through August Maisy met up with Linda as often as she could. Along with mastering the waltz and the quickstep they were now pretty good at the foxtrot too. On wet days they practised the dances in Linda’s bedroom, shrieking with laughter as they tried to pose as professionals, holding their heads high and wearing haughty expressions. But Maisy was getting quite worried about how she’d survive once Linda went back to boarding school in September. They’d become everything to one another and the prospect of missing her friend, cold Autumn weather, darkness falling before teatime and Saturdays with absolutely nothing to do but read or listen to the wireless was all too depressing. She would of course have Duncan, but he’d become so involved with the friends he’d made in Burley that she was worried he’d always be with them. After all, none of them went to boarding schools.