Eve and Her Sisters

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘Another word and you’ll regret it, Mam. I’m warning you.’

  Eve turned and fled on silent feet through the house and into the yard. The sun was still shining, the air mellow and warm. She stood for a moment gasping, as though she had been held under water for a long time. A scarecrow. Was that how people saw her? Was that how he saw her? She felt herself diminishing, shrivelling into nothing as the world around her seemed to get bigger and she smaller.

  She stood for some minutes, her hands clenched at her side as she struggled to control the desire to curl up in a little ball and die.The words Mildred had spoken whirled about in her head as she stared before her dry-eyed. And it was the fledgling individual deep inside her who had strived for life that morning, the girl who had thought she could maybe, just maybe, become more than friend to him at some time in the distant future, that she addressed when she muttered bitterly, ‘New frocks. Huh.’

  Exactly two weeks later Caleb walked into the kitchen and told her he had enlisted. Eve stared at him, too shocked to react.

  He pulled out a hard-backed chair from under the kitchen table and sat down, staring across the kitchen but not at her as he said, ‘I have to get away, Eve. I’m sorry but I have to. I know it’s not fair leaving you to cope with the inn and Mother and all, but I’ll get someone in to run things. It won’t all be on your shoulders. I’ll make sure of that, I promise you.’

  She sat down too because her legs felt too weak to hold her but still she didn’t speak. She could not.

  ‘I’ll be in a battalion of the Durham Light Infantry alongside other lads from the north-east, so the sergeant said. Course there’s training first. That’ll be for a few weeks.’

  ‘When . . .’ She had to clear her throat. ‘When do you go?’

  ‘For training? In the next week. Apparently there’s some hoo-ha about the poor state of training accommodation and more centres are being built, but I’ve got one the other side of Newcastle. I should be able to nip back when I get leave.’

  For the first time since Mary had left, there was life in his voice. Suddenly Eve wanted to hit him. She stood up and walked over to the range and adjusted the big black kettle on the hob. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ she asked flatly.

  ‘Please. I’m frozen. I know it’s only the first week of October but there was sleet in the rain earlier.’

  She didn’t care if it was sleeting. She didn’t care about anything except that he had chosen to go to war and he could be crippled or blinded or killed. She kept her back to him as she got out the big brown teapot and warmed it through with hot water. It took enormous effort to keep her voice calm when she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of enlisting?’

  There was a pause and she nerved herself to turn and face him. He was looking slightly sheepish. ‘I suppose I thought you’d try and talk me out of it. I know I’m leaving you in the lurch to some extent and I’m sorry about that, truly I am.’

  The fact that he obviously thought she was more worried about taking on extra work than about his safety made her voice sharp. ‘But you just went and did it anyway.’ Because of Mary. He loved Mary so much that going away to be shot at and goodness knows what was preferable to staying and being reminded of her.

  He nodded. As she turned her back on him again, he said quietly, ‘I had to get away, Eve. I couldn’t stay here.’

  ‘You’ve said.’

  Silence reigned until she had mashed the tea. She brought the teapot to the table, along with two clean mugs, and then fetched the milk jug. His voice small, Caleb said, ‘I’ll see about getting someone in tomorrow—’

  ‘I don’t care about that.’ It was too revealing. Moderating her tone, she said, ‘It’s not that, Caleb. I could run the inn myself with all you’ve shown me over the years as long as you get someone else for the kitchen. It’s just that now, with Nell not here and Mary having gone . . .’

  ‘You’re lonely.’ His voice was soft and slightly surprised. ‘Of course you are, I should have realised. The three of you have been together for so long and suddenly - oh, Eve, I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’

  Not about her, no. His whole being had been tied up with Mary and, to some extent, how he was feeling. Men were selfish. She looked at him, loving him, as she thought, you really are the most blind, stupid man. ‘It’s all right.’ Better he thought she was missing her sisters than suspect the truth.

  ‘Nell isn’t too far away and perhaps in the circumstances Toby might be agreeable to her helping out for a bit.’

  Eve shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, I can try. I could put it to him in terms of asking a favour, how about that? We’d pay her of course, but I won’t labour on that. I’ll stress the family angle, all right?’

  Eve wanted to fling her arms round him, to tell him that she couldn’t bear the thought of him going, that if he got sent over the water to fight she would never know a moment’s peace, day or night, that she loved him more than life itself. She lowered her eyes in case he could read what was in them.‘Two sugars?’

  He didn’t answer this. What he did say was, and in a voice that was nearly her undoing, ‘I should have thought what your sisters’ going would mean to you. I’m a fool.’

  By the time Caleb was ready to leave Washington for the training camp, a new set-up reigned at the inn. Much to Mildred’s fury, Eve was now in the position of innkeeper. Caleb had made her fully conversant with the financial side of things and what was entailed in running the inn as a whole once she had said she was prepared to take it on, declaring he would far rather have her taking care of things in his absence than some stranger he would have to draft in.

  A middle-aged widow and her young daughter who had just left school had been taken on as cook and kitchen maid.They now occupied the attic room, Eve having taken over one of the bedrooms on the first floor at Caleb’s insistence. In addition to this he had employed a man from the village to work in the front of the inn with Cassie. This meant there was a male presence behind the bar and someone to lift the heavy barrels and work in the meat store when required.

  Nell had been unable to come back and work at the inn, not because Toby had forbidden it but because she had just found out she was expecting a child in the spring. On hearing the news, Eve had already determined a portion of the increased wage Caleb was paying her for her extra responsibilities would find its way to the young couple. They had so little, the strike in the summer having taken its toll on their meagre circumstances. She knew she would have to be tactful in what she did because Toby was a proud individual, but as a delighted aunt she could buy all the baby would require quite openly, along with slipping Nell some shillings to supplement her housekeeping on the quiet.

  The morning of Caleb’s departure was a difficult one. Eve kept telling herself he was only going to training camp but the spectre of France still loomed large. ‘You’ll write?’ she said quietly, once he had come into the kitchen after saying farewell to his mother. She had decided she would say her good-byes with others present and Ada, the new cook, and her daughter Winnie were busy pummelling dough at the table.

  ‘Of course.’ He smiled at her but she could tell he was itching to be off. She doubted the last minutes with Mildred had been particularly uplifting. ‘But I’ll be back soon for a visit no doubt. We get leave, you know.’

  She nodded. Now she was actually faced with the moment of his departure, words failed her.A glimmer of what she was feeling must have shown in her face because his smile widened as he said,‘It’s only training camp, woman. Don’t worry.’

  And then her heart stopped beating and the world stood still as he bent and lightly kissed her forehead. ‘I know I can rely on you to take care of things, Eve,’ he murmured.

  For a second of time she was enveloped in his body warmth, so close she could smell the soap on his skin and the faint odour of tobacco on his tweed jacket. She knew it was the kiss of a friend and meant nothing but it was more than she had e
ver expected. She murmured something, she could never afterwards remember what, and then he was saying goodbye to Ada and Winnie and picking up his bag.

  Despite all her good intentions to stay in the house, Eve followed him into the yard and then the street beyond. ‘Be careful, won’t you?’ she said in a small voice.

  Caleb nodded. It was a frosty morning, the sky a pearly white and the air crisp and cold. ‘You too.’

  And then he turned and walked away from her. Eve watched him go, her arms crossed and gripping her waist against the pain in her breast. In that moment she knew that if she could have wished Mary back and married to him so he was safe, she would have done so.

  PART THREE

  1916 - Homecomings

  Chapter 12

  ‘You-you can’t mean it.’ Mary stared beseechingly at the man who had just risen from the bed.

  Clarence Harley-Shawe walked over to the chair where he had laid his clothes an hour previously. He pulled on his trousers before he glanced across at her. Mary was sitting up among the ruffled covers, her hair hanging in tumbled disarray about her shoulders and the dark pink of her nipples vivid against the whiteness of her breasts. Once the sight of her thus would have stirred him but now he had become tired of her charms. He had taken her tonight because he had nothing better to do before he joined his friends at the gambling house. That was the truth of it. And now he wanted rid of her once and for all.

  ‘Please, Clarence.’ As her eyes met his, Mary’s lips trembled. ‘Tell me you don’t mean it.’

  ‘Bernard isn’t so bad, is he?’ He reached for his silk shirt. ‘And he is enamoured of you, m’dear.’

  ‘Clarence, please.’ She began to cry.

  ‘I suggest you consider his offer. You won’t get better.’

  ‘But what of us? I-I thought you loved me.You said you loved me. And we’ve been happy, haven’t we?’

  It was a great pity when beauty went hand in hand with empty-headedness in the fairer sex. For months now he had found her tedious in the extreme.Without looking at her, he said, ‘The lease on this apartment runs out at the end of the week and I shall not be renewing it. It has . . . served its purpose. If you wish to be kept in the manner to which you have become accustomed I suggest you are generous with your favours to Bernard when he calls. Do you understand, Mary?’

  ‘I can’t believe you are saying these things.’

  ‘Oh come, come, m’dear. You are a sensible girl, you know how it is.We had a pleasant time together and you were well recompensed for your efforts to make an old man happy, but I have a wife and other obligations which need more time.’

  ‘You haven’t been to see me for over a week, how can you say I’ve taken too much of your time?’ She reached out imploringly. ‘Please, Clarence, don’t do this thing. I care for you, you know I do. I can’t bear to think we won’t see each other again.’

  Why the blazes he had been tempted to bring her to London with him he didn’t know. If only he had left her where he’d come across her, all would have been well. But she had fascinated him in those days. Part girl, part woman. Shy one moment and then as brazen as any of the whores he’d enjoyed in his time the next. And so he had set her up in this apartment and showered her with enough pretty things to keep her happy and life had been satisfactory for a while. But now she bored him to death. It served him right for taking a mistress out of his class. Girls like Mary were all right in the whorehouses but he liked a mistress who could discuss politics and current thinking in the aftermath of their lovemaking. A woman with intellect who could stir more than his nether regions. If this girl did but know it, she had been fortunate he hadn’t ended their liaison long before now.

  He buttoned his coat and reached for his top hat and gloves, but before he could cross the room and make his escape, Mary had crawled across the bed towards him and flung herself at his feet, holding on to his legs. ‘Please, please, Clarence, you can’t do this thing. I’m not - I’m not a . . .’

  ‘A whore, m’dear?’ Her tears were mingling with liquid from her nose and mouth and his distaste was great. He removed her fingers from the fabric of his trousers and pushed her away before stooping and wiping the dampness from his clothes with a fine lawn handkerchief. Irritated beyond measure now, he said, ‘But a whore is exactly what you are. You know it, Bernard knows it, so do the rest of my friends. Frankly, you can count yourself fortunate that Bernard asked for you when I expressed my desire to be rid of the situation. But this is too bad, you are forcing me to say things I never intended to say. Why cannot you say goodbye with dignity and let us end it like that? Bernard is a good man.’

  ‘He’s fat and bald and has smelly breath.’

  ‘He is a Sir and he has connections.’ It was sharp and cold. ‘And you are an ignorant girl with little to commend you. Remember that when you make your decision. It is easy to fall back in the gutter, m’dear, but it will be almost impossible to climb out of it again if you bite the hand that feeds you. The finer things of life come at a price, so pay it.’

  As she went to clutch him again he thrust her from him so violently she went sprawling backwards, banging her head on the dressing-table stool. ‘Goodbye, Mary.’ He did not look at her again as he strode out of the room, nor did he heed her cries to stay. He wanted only to be gone.

  Mary heard the door to the apartment slam and it was only then she became quiet. She picked herself up from the floor, reached for her silk robe on the end of the bed and wrapped it round her nakedness. He had gone. He had gone and he wouldn’t be coming back. The thing she had been dreading for months now had come upon her. She had known he was tired of her, he had made little effort to hide it even though he had still expected her to service him as willingly as ever when he had called to see her. Sometimes he had barely stayed half an hour whereas before it had been the whole night on occasion.

  Drying her eyes, she walked across to the long walnut dressing table and righted the stool before sitting on it. She stared at herself in the mirror. It hadn’t been like this at first. At first he had made a fuss of her, petted her. Not that he was ungenerous even now. This beautiful apartment, her clothes, her horse and carriage and the little maid who came every day at six in the morning ready to run her bath and went home at night once she had served the dinner, it was all paid for by Clarence. And she had been grateful.

  She stared down at her smooth white hands and manicured nails, picturing them for a moment as they had been when she had first left Washington. She didn’t want to return to being a skivvy. She wouldn’t. No matter what. But Bernard Vickers? Shuddering, she stared into the large blue eyes in the mirror. He was repulsive. But rich. Richer even than Clarence.

  She turned and glanced round the room. The silk sheets, the elaborate decoration and fine furniture, she had got used to this. She couldn’t do without it.

  After more than ten minutes she stood up. She had never fooled herself that she loved Clarence although she had told him she did of course. But she had liked him. And she had liked the lifestyle he had been prepared to pay for. Could she grow to like Bernard Vickers? He must be twenty years older than Clarence, seventy if a day. One of his grand-sons had recently got married at the Abbey amid much pomp and ceremony.

  Leaving the bedroom she walked into the highceilinged hall, past the door leading to the drawing room which had made her gasp when she had first seen it and into the dining room where she had been eating her evening meal when Clarence had arrived unexpectedly. The remains of the duck with orange and the lemon soufflé which had been her pudding she ignored, reaching instead for the bottle of wine on the table and filling her glass to the brim. She drank it straight down and then poured herself another. Clarence had said Bernard would be calling to see her later when she must have her answer ready. How much later she didn’t know, but she did know she would need fortifying before she opened the door to him.

  The diamonds in the bracelet she had on sparkled as she put her glass down. She touched the jewels lovingl
y. Clarence had bought her this for Christmas only three weeks ago and she had fooled herself into believing that he still cared for her. She had been clutching at straws, she knew that now. She had known it then.

  It was nearly midnight when she heard the knock on the door. She had changed the sheets on the bed and had a long bath, sprinkling her favourite perfume in the water. Now, wearing nothing but a whisper-thin black negligée and with her hair brushed to gleaming silk, she walked into the hall and opened the door, a welcoming smile on her face.

  Chapter 13

  ‘So what do you reckon then? Think we’re going to knock them Germans into next week like the old generals want?’

  Caleb shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath.’

  ‘Oh, I shan’t hold me breath, mate. Not me. I’ve been in this war too long to do that. Now Kitchener’s gone, there’s no voice of reason left, if you want my opinion.’

  Caleb didn’t particularly, but he liked Algernon Griffiths or Big Al as he was generally known and so he let him talk on. Al liked to talk, and there were few enough pleasures left in the world for sure. Caleb had first met Al when they had been up to their waists in mud and crawling with lice in the trenches some months back in January. Now it was the beginning of July and they’d looked out for each other since then. Algernon had one of those naturally optimistic natures that refused to be downcast for more than an odd minute or two, whatever the situation.

  ‘The corp says we’re going to be part of the offensive on the Western Front. The generals have been planning it for months. Always worries me when I hear that. If they’ve had it in mind for months then ten to one the Germans know about it an’ all.’

  ‘You could be right.’ Caleb adjusted his pack which weighed a ton. He and his battalion were marching at a smart pace, some of the men singing music hall tunes and accompanied by the odd mouth organ here and there as they walked in the dead of night. They could see points of flame stabbing the darkness miles away where British shells were falling.