by Robbi Neal
‘I expected you to turn up one day,’ he said. ‘You took your time.’
‘Mister Ainsworth,’ she said, ‘if there is one thing to know about me it is that nothing in my life happens in a hurry and I have learnt to be patient.’
‘I still knew you would eventually turn up.’
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Because I saw your eyes light up when I mentioned driving lessons. I think that excited you more than my kiss.’
‘I’ll say it did. The kiss I don’t remember at all.’ Her burning cheeks belied her words and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.
‘Is that so?’ he said.
He knew she was lying and it made her indignant. He should have the decency to at least pretend to believe her.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I was mistaken. I thought I wanted lessons but I’ve changed my mind,’ and she stepped down off the porch and was halfway up the path when she heard him call from the door.
‘I’ll pick you up in the motor car at 3 p.m. sharp. I know where you live.’
It wasn’t a question so she didn’t answer. And she realised there couldn’t be a Missus Ainsworth or he wouldn’t have been so forward. She was relieved, and her stomach, which had been whizzing around like the wind was caught inside it, settled.
She walked home dying to tell everyone that she was going to learn to drive, but she said not one word to anyone except Gracie, who smiled and said, ‘Papa won’t like it, not one little bit — but it will be good for him,’ and passed her a silverside and mustard sandwich.
‘What’s this?’
‘You need to eat before your lesson,’ said Gracie.
‘Oh no, I’m far too nervous to eat,’ said Edie, so Gracie ate the sandwich and Edie sat at the table drawing invisible pictures with the tip of her finger and watching the clock.
At fifteen minutes to three Edie stood in front of the mirror in the entranceway and fluffed her hair. Then she squashed it all down again under her green cloche hat. She put on her coat and scarf and put her gloves in her pocket and walked down to the kitchen.
As though she was doing something perfectly routine, she announced, ‘I’m off for my driving lesson. Mister Ainsworth should be here directly, and soon I’ll be able to drive us anywhere we need to go.’
‘If Papa ever agrees to buying a car,’ said Gracie.
‘Oh, it will happen,’ said Edie.
Gracie was reading sheet music for songs she wanted to learn. ‘What do you think of “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles”?’ She held the music up for Edie to see.
A horn beeped at the front of the house. ‘Well, that’s me — wish me luck.’ Edie kissed Gracie on the cheek, walked back down the hall, checked herself one more time in the mirror (though she wasn’t sure why), then she took out her notebook and wrote:
Tenth May Twenty-One
Plan — Purchase a motor car. One that gleams and reflects the white clouds in the sky.
The horn beeped again and she tucked her notebook back into her bag and walked down the front path that had been pebbled recently to cope with the new motorised delivery vans — tyres sank too far into the mud in winter, which only made Paul comment that they wouldn’t have needed to have the driveway done if the world had just stuck to horses, which were perfectly capable of taking them wherever they needed to go in adequate time.
She almost skipped along the path and the pebbles crunched under her shoes, making crackling music.
Virgil was parked in the driveway. He leant on the bonnet of his two-seater Morris Crowley, his arms crossed over his chest, smiling. His smile was lopsided and made him look like a boy who had got up to some mischief, mischief like kissing her. She’d make sure that didn’t happen again. She sensed he was a man who didn’t mind breaking a few rules. As she felt her heart thump against her ribs she realised it was a very appealing quality in a man and a shot of electricity ran through her to her fingertips.
The car was a glorious blue and the sun bounced off it in impish sparks. Edie couldn’t help sweeping her gloved hand along the bonnet and saw the reflection of the clouds in the gleam. This was the type of vehicle she needed. She noted that Virgil was wearing a knitted vest that matched the colour of his motor — and the colour of his eyes.
‘All ready?’ he said.
‘I think so,’ she said, letting her hand linger on the bonnet in the sun. ‘It’s very kind of you to give up your afternoon with so little warning.’
‘Well, first of all you’re paying me, and secondly I didn’t have anything more pressing to do this afternoon, Miss Cottingham.’ He spoke as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. She heard the meaning in his tone but let it fly right by.
‘Well, I’m very pleased because I am eager to learn to drive and my father will send you a cheque,’ and she could hear her voice sounding strained and nervous. She decided it was the automobile making her nervous and not the teacher, she was nervous about being behind the wheel of an enormous vehicle, its fury in her control. That’s why she was anxious and it was showing in her voice. She coughed to clear her throat. ‘And please let’s not call each other Mister and Miss.’ She hated being called Miss, it didn’t fit her. Miss was for young girls like Gracie.
He laughed. ‘Yes, well, I suppose we have been on more intimate terms.’
She was hoping he wouldn’t bring that up. Her cheeks glowed hot so she looked at the ground and the black ants like spilt tea leaves scurrying around the white pebbles.
‘I’ll just back it out into the street,’ he said. ‘Backing up can be a bit tricky for a beginner. Edie?’ he said and she looked up. He was looking straight into her eyes. ‘Edie, I’ll just back it out and then you can take over.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. He walked to the front of the car. His hair was thick and shimmered in the autumn sun. He walked with his shoulders straight and back — still like a soldier, she thought. He cranked the motor and it rattled to life with a bang that startled her. He backed the vehicle out of the drive and into the street and left it running as he got out and indicated for her to sit in the driver’s seat.
She got in awkwardly. She had wanted to look graceful but she caught her dress on the rim of the door and he had to lean down and untangle it for her, his head almost touching her knee. Then he shut the door, walked around to the other side and sat down in the passenger seat. Suddenly she was aware they were in a small private world, so close they could easily be touching.
Then they were touching. He had taken her hand and put it on the gearstick, and she could hear her heart thumping in time to the thumping of the car’s engine. He leant right over and pointed to the pedals.
‘Left foot on that one, that’s the clutch, that’s right. Now right foot on that one, yes good, that’s the brake. Now don’t take your feet off until I say,’ and he pushed her hand on the gearstick and the car grunted and groaned. ‘That’s first gear, and we will only be going into first gear today. Now take your foot off the brake and put it on the pedal on the far right, that’s the accelerator. Take your foot slowly off the clutch but at the same time put the other foot slowly down on the accelerator, like a pulley — as one goes down, the other goes up,’ and he moved his hands in the air, one hand the weight, the other the pulley. She did as he said and the car made a sickening grunt and stalled.
‘Never mind,’ he said and pushed the gearstick back into neutral. He told Edie to keep her foot on the brake and he got out and cranked the engine again.
‘Now Edie,’ he said, sitting back in the passenger seat, ‘let’s go over everything again very slowly.’
‘Do you think I’m too old to learn something new?’ she asked and wondered where the question had come from. He would think she was pathetic and she wasn’t.
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘And I’m not going to teach you if you’re going to talk rubbish. We haven’t even started. Now put your hand on the gearstick and your foot on the c
lutch pedal — the peddle on the left. Let’s run through the gears just so you’re familiar with the feel of them before we begin, but all I want you to learn today is first gear.’
He put his hand over hers again and moved the gearstick into first and after three tries she finally made the car lurch forward in painful noisy leaps before it stalled. By the end of the hour-long lesson she was able to bunny hop all the way to Drummond Street.
He was patient, especially when she made mistakes, like forgetting to use the clutch. Or when she stalled by trying to take off in third instead of first. She thought he probably got that patience from his time in the war. He just chuckled at her mistakes and his laugh was a quiet laugh that was sincere and deep, as if he was having some private little joke with himself. She liked that sureness about him, it was a quietness that reminded her of her father and made her feel less nervous. At the end of the lesson she made an appointment for the next one.
Thirty-Seven
The Last Straw
Wednesday, 6 July 1921, when the heavens play a trick on Lisbet in West Coker, England.
A tapestry covered nearly the entire wall of the foyer of Ashgrove House. It depicted the prophet Elijah rising up to join God. Lisbet and Alice sat opposite Elijah as he stared down at the earth he was leaving behind. ‘Good riddance,’ he was saying to Lisbet, ‘you thought I was barmy with all the voices I could hear, but there you are stuck on the earth while I, the crazy one, am being lifted to the heavens.’ Lisbet would have liked it if Reuben was a prophet and the voices in his head were God speaking to him, but she feared that even if he was still alive, he was just plain old brain-addled from the war.
‘Oh dear,’ she sighed, thinking of how Reuben had disappeared. They had not seen him since his son’s birth. He had taken the Daimler and several days later the police had found it miles away with no petrol and no sign of Reuben. They were all in a panic. She had lived through Reuben going off to war and he had survived, she had lived with his wild ways, but she couldn’t live with him now dying in peace on home soil. Why he had run off like that? Had the responsibility of a child broken him? Was he deranged like other returned soldiers and she just hadn’t been willing to face it? She sat and waited, occasionally patting Alice’s hand as she sat beside her cradling the still unnamed baby. At first Doran had got daily updates from Chief Detective Inspector Glover on the police search, none of which were reassuring for Lisbet, but as time wore on the Inspector came less often. Now he came each Wednesday morning to deliver his update. So as they did every Wednesday morning now, Lisbet sat and stared at Elijah, who mocked her, and Alice sat beside her with the baby. Despite Ryan telling them he would call them the minute the Inspector arrived, they waited here in the foyer. When he arrived they would stand and follow him into Doran’s study like pupils following the teacher. There they would come upon Doran sitting behind his desk, waiting like the school principal for his underlings to report to him — or in this case, the Inspector.
The Inspector arrived at ten o’clock, his usual time, and as Ryan took his hat and coat Lisbet and Alice stood ready to follow him into the study where Doran was waiting. Lisbet was going to have her say and so she had asked Esther to put morning tea out for the Inspector and to make it quite lovely. When Ryan appeared in the study pushing the trolley of cake and tea just as they were sitting down, Doran waved them away.
‘Not necessary, the Inspector won’t be here that long.’
But Lisbet said, ‘No no, bring it in. I’m sure the Inspector would love a piece of Esther’s sponge cake and fresh clotted cream.’
The Inspector smiled. ‘You’ve made my day.’ Already he was tasting the sponge and cream and Lisbet smiled at Doran and he conceded at once. Chief Detective Inspector Glover was already on his second slice of ginger sponge. ‘Very good, very good,’ he muttered, ‘my wife can’t … very good.’ When he finished the sponge he wiped his hands on the serviette and took a good slurp of his milky tea and looked directly at Lisbet.
‘He’s definitely alive, you know. There’s no body, and that’s a good thing. If some foul play had occurred there would be a body by now. He’s out there somewhere.’ He said it very matter-of-factly and Lisbet was pleased. He wasn’t trying to console her, he really thought Reuben was out there somewhere. Lisbet watched the Inspector carefully. He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat, there was something else he had to say but he didn’t know how to say it, so she held Alice’s hand for strength and waited.
Eventually he said gently, ‘It’s not uncommon for the returned men — to do something like this.’
‘What about his friends?’ asked Doran. ‘Ah, Houston … or Haines.’
‘Holmes,’ said Alice. ‘His friend is Charlie Holmes.’
‘Surely he’s heard from him?’ said Doran.
Inspector Glover shook his head sadly. ‘We’ve spoken to him, sir.’
Lisbet got out her handkerchief to mop up the tears. Her heart was crying for her son, he could be anywhere out there, wandering the English countryside without food or shelter, lost in mind and body. She asked the only being she thought could ensure his safe and speedy return for assistance.
Alice sat at the huge dining table playing with the cutlery. Reuben had gone mad and deserted her, she was sure of it. He was never coming back. Resentment dug its roots into her veins and muscles. She tried to shoo away the pictures in her mind of what he was doing because whatever she imagined involved other women. He was off somewhere having a grand old time leaving her to deal with his family, the worry and the baby. Her face darkened.
‘He’ll be back. Reuben knows his duty,’ said Lisbet, bringing her back to the table.
Is that what I am, a duty? Alice wondered. As if Lisbet could see her thoughts, her mother-in-law said, ‘You lay in his bed, dear, and from the gossip I’ve heard it was quite a nice one.’
And aren’t I paying for it, thought Alice. She looked over to Ryan, who was standing against the wall but he didn’t meet her gaze. Alice hated the way he called her ma’am now instead of ‘young Alice’ like he had for most of her life. She and his daughter Jocelyn had been good friends. ‘Why do you call me ma’am?’ she’d asked when no one else was around. He said it wasn’t proper to call her anything else now she was a Rosenberg. But sometimes he would wink at her and they would find a private spot in the house and have a good yak and she would ask after his wife Marj and he would ask after her mother and father and they would gossip about all the village people and it would seem just as if they were both back in the village until someone interrupted them and she became ma’am again. Alice looked at Doran sitting at the head of the table, where he always sat. He looked hollow, as if everything inside him had drained away and all that was left was a shell. He had looked like this since the day the baby was born and Reuben had fled. Opposite her, Lisbet was holding up, thought Alice, like me, but that’s all we’re doing, just holding on waiting to see if he ever comes back.
Esther had made roasted squab pigeon, which she cooked every Monday and which Alice didn’t like, but first came the soup. Alice watched for Doran to give Ryan the nod he was ready to start the meal and there it came, so discreet you would miss it if you weren’t looking for it. Ryan didn’t nod back but acknowledged the nod by carrying the soup tureen towards the table. At the same moment Ryan stepped forward, Reuben burst through the doors. Ryan jumped. The lid fell off the tureen and clattered across the floor and under the table. Tomato soup sploshed into a red pond on the floor. Alice gasped and began to stand but Lisbet motioned for her to stay seated, so she plopped right back down. Lisbet was right, they shouldn’t overreact, they didn’t know his frame of mind. They should stay calm. So Alice bit her lip and watched as he strode across the room.
‘Father,’ he said, and nodded to Doran.
He kissed his mother on the cheek before making his way around to the other side of the table and kissing Alice’s lips. She was so surprised she pulled away. He hadn’t kissed her like that in many, ma
ny months. Pleased, she smiled at Lisbet, who mouthed, ‘I told you so.’
‘I hope you’re off to a fancy dress,’ said Doran.
‘Are you leaving again?’ gasped Alice. She wiped the kiss from her lips, rubbing hard. He disappears for weeks, months, then he turns up when he knows they would be eating and is promptly off to some party — and his next girl, no doubt! She should have noticed his clothes when he came in. Her belly was full of disappointment that she couldn’t rub away no matter how hard she rubbed.
Reuben smiled at them all and when he was sure he had their absolute attention he announced, ‘I have discussed it all with God, I have seen men’s souls and I have done enough killing. Now I have been called to save men and create God’s kingdom on earth.’
Doran laughed harshly — the camel’s back was broken.
‘Oh Reuben, I do hope you’re playacting,’ said Lisbet, her voice faltering.
‘No, he’s not!’ said Doran, slamming his hand on the table and making the cutlery jump. Alice flinched.
‘Look at him, for God’s sake! Look! He’s wearing a white dog collar and a black suit.’ Doran pointed at Reuben. ‘You’re in all seriousness, aren’t you, Reuben? You’ve converted! I knew it was coming when you shortened your name.’
Reuben nodded and sat down opposite his father at the other end of the table and lifted his soup spoon as though everything was perfectly normal.
Ryan had mopped up the soup from the floor, set a place for Reuben and poured what was left of the tomato soup into shining bowls, first Doran’s and then Reuben’s.
‘Thank you, Ryan,’ Reuben said as his soup was poured.
‘You’re welcome, sir,’ said Ryan and he raised his eyebrow at Alice, who shrugged. She had no explanation for Reuben’s behaviour so it was no use looking at her. Reuben had never thanked Ryan before. Reuben smiled at everyone and Alice felt reassured. Perhaps her husband was going to be okay.