by Maureen Lee
Jessica, still nauseous, was as yet unbothered as to how she would explain her condition to her husband. All that concerned her was the breathtaking, wondrous realisation that she was pregnant. A year ago, if she’d been offered the choice of giving up her house in Calderstones, her Aga, the car, her lovely clothes, in exchange for a child, Jessica wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have chosen the child.
And, in a way, that’s how things had turned out. If she hadn’t moved to Bootle, the miracle would never have occurred. All the upheaval, losing the business and the house, had been worth it, more than worth it, in the end.
Later on, when she felt better, she’d get dressed up to the nines and go into town and buy something from Henderson’s or George Henry Lee’s – a matinée jacket or a lacy bonnet. She didn’t care if she met any of her old neighbours. Nothing mattered except that, at an age when most women became grandmothers, Jessica Fleming was expecting a baby of her own.
Nick’s face was heavy and unsmiling when Eileen met him outside the factory at six o’clock. Since the weather had improved, they’d begun to meet during the afternoon dinner break.
‘What’s the matter’?’ she asked warily.
‘Nothing,’ he said shortly. He didn’t touch her and began to walk along the path beside the stream.
Eileen knew there was something seriously wrong as she followed a few feet behind. It was going to be a beautiful night, and she wished he was in a better mood so they could enjoy it together. Across the darkening green fields, the sun was slowly disappearing into the horizon, like a jelly melting, she thought to herself, and the sky was a rippling mass of vivid green and scarlet. The stream rippled busily along, washing the white stones even whiter as it frothed over them. She wondered where the stream ended up? Perhaps, one day, she and Nick might follow it.
‘I’ve applied to join the Royal Air Force!’ Nick stopped and began to kick at the grass like a sulky schoolboy. Pebbles landed in the water with a faint plopping sound.
‘Oh, Nick!’ Eileen cried, clutching his arm. Then, in a relieved voice, she said, ‘They’ll never take you.’
He looked down at her and said incredulously, ‘So that’s what you think! I’m not a fit person to fight for his country.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ she protested. ‘You’re doing too important a job already.’
‘You might think it’s important. They might think it’s important. But I don’t. It’s a despicable job. It’s sneaky and underhand and I hate it.’
‘But, Nick …’ she began.
He ignored the interruption. ‘I loathe the very idea of war, but it’s happening, and while it’s happening I want to play a proper part, not stand around in a white coat fiddling with wires, but in a uniform like every other young man in the country.’
Eileen didn’t bother to argue. It was no use telling him there were thousands of other young men who hadn’t been called up because their trade or expertise was needed at home.
‘What about us?’ she asked in a small voice.
Nick laughed bitterly. ‘What about us, Eileen?’
He was always doing that, turning her own question back on her.
‘I would have thought you’d want to stay – for me,’ she said hesitantly.
‘Oh, you would, would you?’ The sarcasm in his voice made Eileen flinch. ‘Why? So we can walk along this blasted stream together for an hour every day? Have a drink in the pub? Go to the pictures once a week and say goodbye at your front door? Why should I want to stay for that?’
‘I’m a married woman …’
Before she could finish, Nick broke in with a snort. ‘I’m sick to death of hearing that. “I’m a married woman, Nick.” So bloody what? You’re not a happily married woman, at least I don’t think so. I’m not trusted with your confidences. On New Year’s Eve, you seemed different. You actually introduced me to your family, and I thought things were going to change, but they haven’t. I’ve never seen your family since, and you’re as hesitant and weak-willed as you ever were.’
‘I’m not weak-willed,’ she said indignantly.
‘You’re too weak-willed to make any sort of commitment.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, puzzled.
To her astonishment, he took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. ‘Eileen. I’m in love with you. I want us to be married sometime in the future.’
‘Married!’ she said faintly.
He let her go, almost contemptuously, and turned away. He stood looking in the direction of the sun. At that moment, it vanished from the sky altogether. ‘Has the thought of marriage never crossed your mind before?’ he asked.
Eileen shoved her hands in her pockets. ‘No. Well, yes. I’m not sure,’ she stammered.
‘You’re making yourself very clear.’
‘Don’t be so sarcastic, Nick. You’ve no idea of my situation …’
He broke in again. ‘Only because you won’t tell me what your situation is. Every time I try to talk about your husband, you change the subject. You don’t love him, but you won’t tell me why. What sort of man is he, good or bad? Do you intend leaving him? If not, what are you doing here?’ He kicked viciously at the grass. ‘I feel as if we’ve had this conversation a dozen times before. You’ve no right to keep me in the dark, Eileen.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ she conceded. She knew she was being unfair. For too long, she’d been stringing him along because it was nice, more than nice, to have someone like Nick in love with her whilst she held him at an appropriate distance. She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. It was time for a decision.
‘You fell in love with the wrong person, Nick,’ she began quietly.
But tonight Nick seemed determined never to let her finish a sentence. He caught her in his arms, murmuring hoarsely, ‘No, no, no!’ before pressing his lips against hers. She felt his tongue, hard and hungry, and opened her mouth to allow him to explore her own. They stood, so close, it was as if they were one person, on the banks of the little stream outside Dunnings, oblivious to everything except their own mounting passion.
‘I love you! Dear God, Eileen, if you only knew how much I love you!’ he groaned eventually. He clasped her face in both hands and she felt his thumbs heavy on her cheeks.
‘And I love you.’ She’d never said those words to anyone before. She said them again in a clear ringing voice. ‘I love you, Nick.’
Eileen returned to work, exhilarated, convinced she would get little done for the remainder of the shift. The first person she saw was Miss Thomas going into her office. On impulse, Eileen followed, suddenly struck with an idea.
She knocked on the open glass door – it was never closed unless someone else was there – just as Miss Thomas sat down at her desk.
‘Can I have a word with you?’
Miss Thomas gave her usual friendly smile. ‘Of course, Eileen. Come in and close the door.’ She gestured towards the chair in front of the desk. ‘How can I help?’
Eileen decided there was no point in beating about the bush. She plunged right in. ‘I want to divorce me husband,’ she said bluntly, ‘and I’ve no idea how to go about it. I know you see a solicitor, but what happens then?’
For a moment, Miss Thomas looked stunned. ‘Divorce?’ Then she smiled, somewhat grimly. ‘You’re starting from the worst possible position.’
‘In what way?’
‘You’re a woman! The odds are stacked against women when it comes to divorce. I don’t know much about it, my husband specialised in criminal law, but I know men have everything on their side.’
‘Oh!’ Eileen felt suddenly deflated.
Miss Thomas didn’t appear to notice her forlorn expression. She began to list further difficulties. Property and other possessions were always deemed to be the man’s, even if the woman had contributed towards their purchase. And Eileen would need money. Solicitors didn’t come cheap.
‘I take it,’ Miss Thomas said, ‘that the grounds would be cruelty?’ Wh
en Eileen nodded, she went on, ‘In which case, I would be happy to appear as a witness. I can vouch for the injuries I saw.’
‘Thank you,’ Eileen whispered.
It was only then the woman behind the desk noticed Eileen’s downcast face. ‘I’m sorry, Eileen, to be such a Jeremiah, but from the woman’s point of view, divorce is fraught with difficulties – I know only too well from my own experience. When I left, my husband told me not to bother trying. Cruelty is very difficult to prove. Judges are not only exclusively male, but very old-fashioned. They disapprove of women disposing of their husbands, no matter what the blighter has been up to. Some judges regard a wife as merely the property of the man, with him having the right to do whatsoever he pleases with her.’
As the total injustice of the situation sank in, Eileen began to boil with indignation. ‘It’s not bloody right!’ she exclaimed.
‘Women have always been second-class citizens,’ Miss Thomas commented dryly. ‘You never know, the war might go some way towards remedying the situation, we’ll just have to see. But in the meantime, we’ve got a long fight on our hands, Eileen, if we are ever to expect equality with men.’
‘Are you suggesting it’s not worth trying – for a divorce, I mean?’ Eileen asked.
‘Oh, no!’ Miss Thomas looked shocked. ‘I was preparing you for the difficulties that lie ahead. We’ll never win the fight, will we, if we give up before we’ve even started?’
‘Well, thank you very much for the advice,’ Eileen was about to leave when Miss Thomas said hesitantly, ‘I don’t wish to pry, but I’ve seen you outside with a young man. Is there a third party involved?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘To put it another way, are you having an affair? No!’ she raised her hand, ‘don’t answer that, it’s none of my business. It’s just that if you could persuade your husband to divorce you on the grounds of your adultery, it might be the best option. It would be easier and cheaper, so long as you don’t mind the damage to your reputation.’
‘Eileen shrugged. ‘Me reputation will be damaged, anyroad.’ Divorce, particularly from such a fine man as Francis Costello, wouldn’t go down well in Pearl Street, no matter what the reason. ‘But what about Tony, me little boy? Francis threatened to take him off me.’
Miss Thomas pulled a face. ‘I’d forgotten you had a child. If it’s the woman who’s been unfaithful, there’s always the risk the man will get custody of the children.’
On Saturday night, instead of going to the pictures, Nick took Eileen out for a meal so they could talk. She relayed the gist of her conversation with Miss Thomas.
‘It looks as though it’ll be an uphill job, but I’m going to try,’ she said determinedly. ‘In fact, Miss Thomas found a solicitor in Bootle who specialises in divorce and made an appointment for me on Monday morning.’
Nick took both her hands across the table. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Eileen shook her head. ‘I think it would be best if I went by meself.’
‘No matter what happens, darling, I want us to always be together. Promise me that.’ His dark eyes smiled into hers.
‘I promise,’ she whispered.
Later on, when they were finishing dessert, Nick said, ‘I was thinking of going down to London next week for Easter. Why don’t you come with me?’
‘London!’ Eileen’s first thought was for Tony, who’d been promised a visit to Pets Corner in Lewis’s. She felt as if she was being torn in two, not wanting to let Tony down, but unwilling to hurt Nick by refusing his invitation.
Sensing her hesitation, and perhaps even the reason for it, Nick said, ‘If you’re thinking of Tony, bring him too.’
‘You wouldn’t mind?’
He laughed. ‘For goodness’ sake, woman. You’ve just promised we’ll always be together. How can we be together without Tony? It’s about time he got to know me if I’m going to be his stepfather. I’d like a relationship better than the one I had with mine. My stepfather would have preferred I didn’t exist.’
‘Jaysus! I hadn’t thought about it that way.’ For a moment, the problems of the future seemed insuperable. She almost wished Francis were still home and she was back in her life of drudgery and unhappiness; that she’d never met Nick and nothing had changed. She shook herself. It was stupid thinking in such a negative way.
‘What’s wrong?’ Nick was always sensitive to the least alteration in her mood.
‘Nothing. Francis crossed my mind, that’s all.’
‘Tell me about him?’ Nick demanded. ‘What’s he like?’
Eileen didn’t answer immediately. How much should she tell? After a pause, she decided he had a right to know everything, apart from the dark secret only she and Francis shared.
‘He’s charming,’ she said eventually. ‘Really charming – until you get to know him properly, and not many people do that. Only me and Tony knew what Francis was really like.’ In an even voice, she told Nick how they’d met, that her dad had put pressure on her to marry him. ‘Not that I minded too much,’ she said. ‘After all, like I said, he was really charming.’ She explained how Francis had changed once they were married. ‘There’s a saying in Bootle, “outside angel, inside fiend”, and that describes him perfectly.’
Nick’s face grew dark as Eileen continued. ‘Eventually, I told me dad, because … well, I needed somewhere safe to stay when Francis was home on leave last October. In fact, it was me dad who changed the locks on the doors to keep him out. That’s one of the reasons why …’ She paused.
‘Why what?’ Nick’s eyes glittered angrily.
‘Why Francis nearly killed me when he came home at Christmas,’ Eileen finished simply.
‘Killed you!’ Nick exploded. Several people in the restaurant looked at them curiously. ‘Christ! I could murder the man with my bare hands! Come and live with me in Melling! You’ll be safe there. Francis must never come near you again.’
Eileen squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled. ‘Francis is in Egypt. I reckon he won’t be back to Pearl Street for a long time.’
After Nick paid the bill, they wandered arm and arm through the blacked out centre of Liverpool towards the car park where his motorbike had been left.
‘Is there a particular reason you’re going to London?’ Eileen asked curiously. ‘Or is it just a holiday, like?’
‘Well, the fact is,’ Nick replied, ‘I’ve been in touch with a chap I was with at university, Ben Fulford, whose old man is a bigwig, a Wing Commander, in the RAF. I met him once and intend bearding him in his den and persuading him to use his influence to get me in.’
‘Nick!’ She stopped and stared at his blurred form, unable to believe her ears.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, surprised at her anguished tone.
‘How can you possibly think of leaving me?’
‘My darling Eileen,’ he said incredulously. ‘There’s a war on.’
‘But you might be killed!’
‘I might be killed anyway; two people have already died in explosions where I work.’
‘That’s different. Oh, how can you not see?’ She could have cried with frustration. She thought, with everything that had happened between them over the last few days, he would have changed his mind about joining up. Men! what was wrong with them? Why did they have this uncontrollable urge to fight? Even Tony, only five years old, strutted around with his gun in his shorts, ready to kill Germans on sight. ‘Can’t you ask to be transferred to something more, more …’
‘Humane?’ Nick suggested lightly.
‘Well, yes.’
‘Because it still wouldn’t be what I want. I’ve told you, Eileen, I hate war as much as you do, but it’s a matter of pride, pride in myself and pride in my country. Battle has been joined, as they say. That being the case, I want to be in the thick of things.’
‘I don’t understand,’ groaned Eileen. ‘I’ll never understand.’ He was prepared to risk his life, when he could stay safel
y at home in a reserved occupation. How could he possibly love her as he claimed?
Suddenly, Nick pushed her against the wall. He leaned against her, his hands on the bricks above her head. ‘Don’t you see, my dearest girl,’ he whispered, ‘that I want you to spend your life with the real me, not some silly boffin making boobytraps to blow up unsuspecting civilians? The real me wants to fight, wants you to be proud I’m playing my part. Don’t you see, Eileen?’
She knew it was no use discussing the matter further. His mind was made up.
‘I see,’ she said shakily. But she didn’t see at all. Instead, she prayed the RAF bigwig would refuse to help. Perhaps it was selfish, she didn’t care, but she wanted Nick safe and sound in England.
The solicitor was a handsome middle-aged man with a wild shock of prematurely white hair. Head bent and cupped in his left hand, he made notes with a gold fountain pen as Eileen explained her case. She felt nervous and kept losing the thread of her tale, though he remained courteous throughout and corrected her with a smile when she contradicted herself from time to time.
‘In what way was your husband violent?’ he asked in his light, pleasant voice.
‘He used to squeeze my arm or my shoulder really hard,’ Eileen explained.
‘Did he bruise the flesh?’
‘No, but it went red.’
‘And why did he squeeze your arm or your shoulder?’ He smiled encouragingly.
‘If he felt I hadn’t dusted properly, or made him a dinner he didn’t like – that sort of thing,’ Eileen replied, wishing her voice would stop shaking.
‘And did you? Not dust properly? Make him a dinner he didn’t like?’
‘Not deliberately. I can’t remember,’ she stammered.
‘No matter.’ He made a note. ‘Now, about this incident at Christmas. You say the locks had been changed on the doors and he couldn’t use his key?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Had you apprised your husband of this fact beforehand?’