The Lock-Keeper's Son
Page 47
A month passed, a month in which Algie and Aurelia met four more times at the Eagle Hotel, a month in which he was too engrossed in his new bike building enterprise to go anywhere near the Bottle and Glass to collect his message from Marigold. It was a month in which Marigold sought him regularly, but without success. Living in Dudley, he might as well have been living on the moon.
On the 22nd of April, a Wednesday, Aurelia packed a trunk with things for herself and little Benjie. She had finally made the decision to leave her husband. The possibility of a happier, more fulfilled life with Algie Stokes at some time in the future beckoned like a beacon in her darkness. It was hypocritical in the extreme to stay with Benjamin when she loved another man so dearly. She waited for him to return from his factory so that she could announce her intention.
Benjamin arrived home at half past six in the evening, and saw the trunk standing in the hall as he entered.
‘What’s this? Are we taking a holiday all of a sudden?’
‘It’s mine and Benjie’s things, Benjamin.’
‘Oh?’ He regarded her apprehensively.
‘I’m leaving you.’
‘Leaving me?’ he said, indignant and incredulous. ‘Tonight?’
‘Tonight’s as good a time as any. I’ve ordered a cab for seven o’ clock.’
‘A cab? So where d’you think you’re going?’
‘To an hotel. For tonight at any rate. I’ll write and let you know where I end up eventually, if you’re interested in knowing.’
‘Of course I’m interested in knowing. I have my son to consider. You won’t be allowed custody of him, you do realise that, don’t you, Aurelia?’
‘I understand that will be for a judge to decide. It’s a risk I have to take, Benjamin. I believe any judge with one iota of sensitivity would grant custody to a mother who can give her child constant love and attention, as opposed to handing him over to a father who is always at work, and disinterested in his child anyway.’
‘To say that I’m disinterested in Benjie is a blatant lie, Aurelia. Besides, he’s got a nanny to look after him who is just as competent as you are. What’s more, you need grounds for a divorce.’
‘I’m giving you grounds … Desertion.’
‘Desertion? Not adultery?’
She gave a laugh of scorn. ‘You seem preoccupied with the idea of me committing adultery, Benjamin. Are you quite sure you are not judging me by your own standards? In any case, if I had been committing adultery, I don’t suppose I would be granted custody of Benjie anyway.’
‘But have you been committing adultery?’
‘Certainly not,’ she lied with monumental conviction, driven by the fervent wish not to lose her child, nor cost Algie money.
‘Then I don’t see why you have to go, Aurelia. I’ve got no desire to see you leave this house.’
‘I have no reason to stay. I don’t love you anymore. Nor do you love me.’
‘I’ve feared this moment for some weeks now,’ he said morosely. ‘Don’t go, Aurelia. Stay. We can work things out. Marriage has to be worked at.’
‘Then why did you not think to work at it when you had the chance, instead of treating me as if I didn’t exist? A woman can only stand so much indifference, Benjamin.’
‘Stay,’ he entreated earnestly, ‘and I’ll try to change. I promise … I promise to be a good and devoted husband.’
‘It’s too late, Benjamin.’
‘Leave for a trial period, then, eh, if you’re so determined to go? Have a few weeks away from me, by all means – a rest from each other. That might be all we need to rekindle our marriage. Then let’s see how we feel after that.’
She sighed. It might be expedient to agree to such terms and be allowed to make a quick exit. Once he had allowed her to go, it would be a simple enough matter to say she was never coming back. ‘If you think it’s more sensible, Benjamin.’
‘Course I do. Divorce is a massive step. One not to take lightly. And it’s expensive. There’s so many things to consider.’
‘I’m well aware of it.’
‘Do you need money?’
‘I have money, Benjamin. Enough for the moment at any rate.’
There was a knock at the door. Aurelia rushed to answer it. The driver of a growler declared that he was at the service of Mrs Sampson.
‘Can you take the trunk, please?’ she asked him. ‘I’ll be just a minute.’ The driver entered, picked up the trunk and took it outside. She closed the door behind him and hurried past Benjamin to fetch her son. ‘Benjie, we are going now.’
Maude, the nanny, looked suitably distressed at having to bid farewell to her charge, to whom she had inevitably grown attached. She gave the boy a kiss and stroked his hair cursorily. ‘Goodbye, Benjie.’
‘Goodbye, Nanny,’ the boy replied confused, aware that something significant was happening from the behaviour of the hovering grown-ups around him, but not sure what.
Aurelia lifted the child, and he sat in her arms, his arms around her neck. She turned to her husband. ‘Goodbye, Benjamin. I’ll write.’
Benjamin leaned towards the child to say goodbye and to give him a kiss. ‘You’ll come and see me soon, won’t you, Benjie?’
The boy nodded his solemn promise.
Benjamin watched the driver strap the trunk onto the back of the cab, while Aurelia and little Benjie settled themselves in. When they had departed, Maude stepped into the hall from the room where she and little Benjie had been playing. She stood by Benjamin proprietorially, as if she were the lady of the house, immediately shedding the pose of a servant.
‘I’m certain it’s another man,’ she said quietly. ‘Every time she thought you were away on business, Mary says she was off like a shot from a gun, not returning till late at night. Occasionally, she wouldn’t come back till the next morning.’
Benjamin looked astonished. ‘Maude, why did you not tell me of this before?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Because there’s no proof of it. Anyway, I didn’t want you to think I was trying to oust her by telling tales. I didn’t want you to think I was being too pushy. I’m only a nanny, after all.’
‘You are only a nanny when my wife’s here … And a very lovely one at that.’ He took her hand and stroked it. ‘Is Mary back?’
‘No, it’s her day off, isn’t it? She goes to her mother’s on her day off. She won’t be back till the morning.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Good. Then there’s another whole night ahead of us, my angel … I’ll get a bottle of brandy. See you in your room.’
‘We could use yours for a change, Benjamin …’
Rather than spend a night at the Eagle, where she was well-known to Mr Powell, the proprietor, Aurelia had already determined that she would stay with her son at the Dudley Arms Hotel, where they alighted from the four-wheeled growler. She had written to Algie warning him of her intention and suggesting that he call there after about half past eight, by which time she hoped to have Benjie settled and asleep.
He arrived at twenty minutes to nine, asked what room she was in and made his way upstairs. He tapped lightly on the bedroom door.
She answered it, putting her forefinger to her lips as a signal to be quiet, and let him in. Little Benjie was asleep in the big bed he would share with his mother that night.
‘He’s not long gone to sleep,’ she said quietly.
Algie peered at the child who might one day be his charge, snuggled up under the bedclothes. ‘He looks content anyway.’
‘Yes, so far, so good.’
‘So … you’ve finally left Benjamin?’ He resigned himself to a whispered conversation. ‘Was he shocked?’
‘He had been half expecting it, I think. But he still claimed he didn’t want me to go. At least he’ll have his grounds for divorce – desertion.’
‘Then let’s hope he acts on it. And he let you go without a struggle, without an argument, or threats?’
‘With hardly a word of opposition. He very quickly mad
e a concession. He considers it a trial separation. He did ask me, though, if I had money enough, as if he might even hand me some if I hadn’t … no doubt to hasten my departure.’
‘So you are going to throw yourself on the mercy of some relative meanwhile?’
She nodded. ‘I said I would. I shall write to let you know where I am. I hope we can see a lot more of each other. Oh, already I feel free, Algie. It’s a new beginning …’
Early the following morning, Marigold, looking pale and anxious in her dressing gown, sought her Aunt Edith, who was preparing breakfast in the scullery.
‘Aunt Edith,’ she said, smiling a pallid apology. ‘I think maybe the baby’s coming. I’ve been getting some pains in me belly.’
At once Aunt Edith threw her arms up in a panic. ‘How long, Marigold? How long have you been having the pains?’
‘A couple of hours now. They woke me. I was having a lovely sleep an’ all.’
‘And how often are they coming?’
‘Dunno. Regular, though.’
She really did not know, not having thought to time them. But the news was sufficient to send Aunt Edith into a tizz of some vigour. She scurried to her pantry, collared a bottle of brandy and poured some into a glass.
‘Drink this, my angel, and I’ll get dressed. I’ll have to run and fetch the midwife.’
‘What about our breakfasts?’
‘Oh, I couldn’t face breakfast now, young Marigold. Nor could you, I shouldn’t think, if you got the pains a-coming.’
‘You ain’t sending for a doctor as well, are you, Aunt Edith?’ Marigold sounded concerned.
‘Not unless it’s necessary, my flower. Why?’
‘ ’Cause me mom told me once that you have to act genteel in front of a doctor. I don’t see how I can act genteel while I’m showing everything I’ve got, a-grunting and a-shoving. If it’s gonna hurt as much as me mother said it would, I can see meself using some hefty swear words an’ all.’
‘It’s up to the midwife to decide about a doctor. If all goes well we shan’t need one, so you can swear as much as you like. But I think this child is a mite early, from what your mother told me.’
‘Not that early,’ Marigold said, and took a slurp of the brandy. ‘Besides, I might easy have miscounted the weeks.’
‘I shall have to teach you to add up and subtract properly as well as your letters,’ Aunt Edith said. ‘You can’t go through life not knowing where you are.’
‘Oh, I know where I am all right, Aunt Edith. I’m well organised. I got me some towels ready, and the baby’s new gown put out ready, all nice and white … I wish Algie was here, though,’ she sighed. ‘I do wish he could be with me. I miss him ever so much …’specially now …’
‘Algie!’ Aunt Edith repeated disdainfully. ‘The damned elusive Algie. The child’s father and still you haven’t found him. Lord have mercy on us. I’m going upstairs to get dressed, Marigold. I think you should get back to bed. Your waters could break any time.’
‘I don’t think I’ll go to bed just yet, Aunt. I daresay I’ll spend long enough there soon enough. Besides, there’s things what I can do. I can get me breakfast for a start.’
Aurelia awoke that morning in that strange bedroom at the Dudley Arms Hotel. At once she realised that she did not feel well. She turned to look at Benjie, angelically asleep still, his hair a riot of dark, wayward curls, his eyelashes long and dense as they seemed to rest on the infant curve of his cheek. She sighed, rapidly becoming aware that this was her first morning of freedom. If only she did not feel quite so queasy. She tried to recall what she had eaten last night that might have upset her.
She sat up in bed, slowly so as not to disturb her sleeping son, and was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea. She realised she was not going to be able to hold back from vomiting. At once she swung her legs out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. There was a water closet at the end of the landing, and she hoped and prayed nobody was occupying it yet. When she reached it, still fastening her dressing gown, she saw that the door was ajar. She burst in, spewing immediately into the pan.
She was on her knees panting, trying to catch her breath between bouts of convulsive retching. Tears squeezed from her swollen eyelids and she felt them running hot down her cheeks. Her mouth tasted foul and she spat the residue of her vomiting into the pan and breathed deeply. At least now she felt better. What could she have eaten that had upset her like this? She wiped her eyes on the handkerchief she took from her pocket, and the awful truth dawned on her, like a sudden thunderstorm blighting a bright summer’s day. How stupid of her not to have realised at once. She was with child.
Every morning lately, although feeling not quite right, she had not considered that that was the reason, never thought for a moment that she might be carrying a child. When she had failed to bleed at the usual time she had dismissed it as merely the excitement at the prospect of meeting Algie, the sheer thrill of sharing forbidden pleasures, the exhilaration of stolen love. Anyway, why should she have worried? She had been meticulously careful, had applied a douche after every evening with Algie as soon as she got back home. She had missed her monthly bleeding before, caused only, of course, by the excitement of planning her wedding. Perversely, that curse of many a bride had started on her wedding day, delaying consummation by some five days, to Benjamin’s abject frustration.
Aurelia was afraid. She felt alone, daring not to think what the future might hold. She was adrift in a sort of no man’s land, having just left her husband, without yet having secured the man she really loved. Had she been too impulsive? What if Algie changed his mind? What if he decided to take heed of his mother’s disapproval and refused to have anything else to do with her?
This sickliness was how it had been with Benjie, except that with Benjie it was not nearly as violent. Perhaps after this first time it would become less fierce. She wiped her mouth and hurried back to her room. Benjie was still asleep; he had not missed her. She caught a glimpse of herself in the long mirror on the wardrobe door and was glad that Algie could not see her like this – yet at any rate. She drank water from the glass that stood on the bedside table and rinsed her mouth. It was time to get dressed, time to compose herself, time to face the world, time she took Benjie away until she and Algie could commence their life together – with Benjie … Oh, and their own child now, the fruits of their union, already rooted in her belly.
She got herself ready then woke Benjie. He was generally boisterous when he awoke, and always boisterous just before he was put to bed at night. Maude was not here now to manage him, a job she always did so effectively. But Aurelia was easily able to get him washed and dressed, and she took him downstairs for breakfast, which she could not face herself. That done, she asked the porter to bring down her trunk and get her a cab, then paid her bill and left the hotel.
As Benjie sat beside her, avidly peering out of the cab’s window to the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs, Aurelia nibbled the end of her glove deep in thought, seeing but not noticing the Black Country’s grimy streets being washed with soft April rain. The harshness of that bitter winter was gone. The first buds were greening up the trees, and birds were flitting about in a frenzy of nest building. The colourless industrial landscape began to change the further they travelled, and they were soon approaching lush green fields and bluebell woods. The gardens of bigger houses were coming alive after their winter rest, playing host to clusters of spring flowers, all in a rush to bloom.
Eventually, Aurelia reached the home of her mother’s sister, with whom she had always enjoyed a rapport. She paid the cab driver, who dropped off her trunk at the front door, and she led Benjie by the hand up the front path. She composed herself, forced a smile, and rapped on the shining brass door knocker.
‘Aurelia!’ her aunt said when she opened the door and saw her. ‘What a time to come visiting. We’re up to our necks—’
‘We haven’t come visiting,’ Aurelia replied. ‘We’ve come to stay.’
At once, Aurelia could hear the screams of a woman emanating from upstairs. She turned to her aunt. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You remember your Aunt Hannah?’
‘Of course I remember my Aunt Hannah. I’m hardly likely to forget her. She had an affair with my father.’
‘The girl you can hear is her eldest daughter in the throes of childbirth.’
‘Childbirth?’ Aurelia regarded her aunt with unease. ‘Is the poor thing all right? Is there anybody with her?’
‘Oh, yes, I engaged a midwife. She’s up there with her.’
‘Maybe I can help, Aunt.’
‘Yes, maybe you can. Perhaps you ought to make yourself useful anyway, if you want to stop here a bit.’
‘I’ll settle Benjie down first, and find him some toys out of my trunk.’
Another series of heart-rending shrieks came from upstairs as Aurelia lugged in her trunk and opened it. She took out a rag doll and sat Benjie on her knee with it, ready to humour the child in this strange and raucous environment of shrieking and energetic women that he found himself thrust into. Then a thought struck her.
‘Aunt, how old is this daughter of Aunt Hannah’s?’
‘Not yet twenty.’
‘Only nineteen?… Is she … by any chance …?’
‘Your father’s bastard child?’
‘I wasn’t aware there was a child from that affair … but is she?’
‘I’m afraid she is, Aurelia.’
‘But … why was I never told that poor Aunt Hannah had had a child by my father?… And yet, the way she disappeared and was hardly ever spoken of, I should’ve realised … Good God! You know what this means, Aunt? She’s my sister …’ Aurelia’s eyes lit up. ‘I have another sister … Oh, Aunt, I really must go and meet her … I really must try to be of some help, some comfort to her. Will you keep Benjie entertained while I go up?’