Miss Purdy's Class

by Annie Murray

  Ariadne pulled her chair up close. Eventually, taking courage, she laid her arm round Gwen’s shoulders. Even in the state she was in, Gwen was touched by the timidity of the gesture. She could smell Ariadne’s perfume. It was quite pleasant, she realized, not like that smell in the hall.

  ‘You can tell me,’ Ariadne said, after letting Gwen have a cry. ‘I know what it’s like to be unhappy, dear, believe me. Has someone been playing with your heart?’

  Gwen fished out her hanky and blew her nose, more tears coming as she did so.

  ‘I’ve been such a fool and it hurts so much . . .’

  She spilled it all out then, desperate to talk to someone, all about meeting Daniel, and Edwin and the wedding and the fact that her parents never wanted her home again and, most terrible of all, what had happened this morning.

  ‘She’s been chasing after him for ages. I’ve seen her. I’ve tried so hard not to be jealous, but every time we do anything, any meeting we go to, she’s always there, making up to him, taking his attention . . . And she’s so bossy, and she’s older than he is,’ she finished petulantly. ‘Why would he want to go off with her when he’s told me he loved me so many times? I can’t understand him . . .’ Once more she dissolved into tears. She realized Ariadne was lightly stroking her back.

  ‘Poor child,’ she said. ‘Oh, what a thing. But that’s men for you, dear. I’ve spent my life trying to get over men. You give them everything, pour your heart out to them and they run off and leave you, and you think: one day I’ll find the one who’s different, who’ll be true . . .’ The melancholy in Ariadne’s voice cut through to Gwen and she wiped her eyes and turned to look at her.

  ‘But you found your George, didn’t you?’ Both their eyes went to the photograph of George in its frame on the mantelpiece, with his moustache and military stance. ‘He was different, wasn’t he?’

  There was a silence. Ariadne looked down into her lap. ‘No,’ she confessed miserably. ‘He wasn’t. Not in the end.’

  Gwen stared at her, unable to make sense of this. Ariadne looked up, and Gwen could see the sad, defeated look in her eyes.

  ‘I tell everyone I’m a widow, but it’s not true. He left me – just like the others.’

  ‘Oh, Ariadne!’

  Ariadne withdrew her arm and looked down into her lap. ‘You get over some of them. Most of them – but I’ve never got over him. Took the heart out of me, he did. Don’t let this one do it to you. Look at you – your pretty face is all blotches! You’re too young for all that.’

  It’s too late, Gwen thought, tears welling in her eyes again. He already has. But she didn’t say anything to Ariadne, just leaned over and gently touched her hand. Ariadne looked up at her, nodding gently, shame and hurt in her eyes.

  ‘Your room’s empty, dear, since Mr Mealing went,’ she appealed. ‘I do wish you’d come back and take it.’

  Gwen thought of Millie and Lance’s flat, the constant bickering and life with them at close quarters.

  ‘Just give me time to give them notice,’ she said.

  Millie was not at all happy.

  ‘But I thought you were going to stay and help me when the baby comes,’ she complained. ‘It’s going to be ever so lonely, and I shan’t know what to do!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mill – I’ve promised to go now. I’ll come and see you whenever I can. It’s not as if I’ve the faintest idea how to manage babies, you know.’

  ‘Lance will be so cross – we need the rent, you see.’

  But Gwen was determined. Now she knew she would be leaving in a couple of weeks, the realization came as a great relief, even though Lance was short and snappy with her. She was in far too much distress herself to care what Lance thought about anything.

  Thursday and Friday she spent in a terrible state. She kept bursting into tears and lying on her bed, face pressed to the candlewick bedspread. She was so desperate, she thought sometimes she should go and find him, have it out with him. But her pride wouldn’t let her. Nothing would have dragged her into the party offices. On Friday evening she was sure he would come to her, that he would want her there with him at the demonstration the next day. She waited all evening in a state of almost unbearable tension, thinking every sound was a knock on the door, but he did not come.

  Saturday was the day of the demonstration. She decided that the only way to get through it was to try and keep busy, so she went out, buying food on the way, to Handsworth Park. In the afternoon a band was playing on the bandstand and she sat nearby amid the crowds sprawled on the grass, listening to marching tunes as they rolled across the sunlit grass, trying not to think about what was happening in the Bull Ring, the speeches, party members selling the Daily Worker and the BCPL banners. She should have been there with her bag of leaflets, one of the party’s workforce.

  Damn them – damn all of it, she thought savagely, hugging her knees and peering out from under the brim of her straw hat. They didn’t care about other people – not really. All they cared about were abstract ideas, and slotting real people into them. Was that what she was for Daniel – an idea? A comrade so long as she thought as he thought, and joined the party and did as she was told? What if she had feelings and ideas of her own? Every time she thought about Daniel it was with a terrible lurch of pain inside. It was as if he had sucked her right in, body and soul, and then casually spat her out again.

  That night she lay soaking in the bath. She had a good cry. When she got out her body was pink all over, her head felt muzzy and she had reached a point of numbness where she had thought about Daniel and dwelt on her feelings so much that she couldn’t any more. Barefoot and in her nightdress she went into her room and sat numbly on the bed. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when there was a rap on her door.

  ‘Gwen?’ Millie sounded impatient. ‘It’s Daniel.’

  She didn’t have time to move. She had been in such a daze she hadn’t heard the knock on the outside door of the flat.

  His face, coming round the door, looked very dark. He obviously hadn’t shaved for several days and his skin had tanned well in the sun. His white shirt hung outside his trousers and he looked generally dishevelled, but full of energy. He beamed at her in a way which indicated so clearly that he had absolutely no idea of her feelings, that she froze even further and just sat, staring at him.

  Daniel closed the door quickly behind him. ‘You missed a big day today! It went really well – crowds of ’em! Where’ve you been all week? We’ve been rushed off our feet!’

  He sat on the bed beside her. ‘Off to bed already? You been poorly?’

  ‘No.’ She kept her voice even and controlled. ‘I just didn’t come in. I had other things to do. Didn’t you notice I wasn’t there before today?’

  ‘Yes – course. Only we’ve been non-stop all week before the big day today. I’ve barely been home, slept or anything! I fell asleep on the floor in the office once or twice. And today was big – crowds there. We got rid of hundreds of leaflets!’ He talked on excitedly about the demonstration, the speeches and how it had all been. Gwen sat growing more and more tense with pent-up hurt and anger, yet she was already beginning to feel ashamed. She was being so trivial and womanish, being wrapped up in her own feelings when Daniel was spending himself every hour of the day for the party. If it had just been that it wouldn’t have seemed so bad. But there was Esther . . .

  ‘So –’ he stopped at last – ‘where’ve you been then?’

  ‘Do you really care?’ She stood up and walked away from him as he reached out to put his arm round her. ‘Daniel.’ For a moment she stared at him, feeling her cheeks burning red and a wave of tears barely held back. ‘Don’t come here and pretend to me.’ He was looking up at her from under his curling fringe, frowning. She could see the dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes. She had trouble getting the words out. If she said what she had to say, it would change everything. But it had to be said. ‘I saw you. On Wednesday. With Esther.’ Tears rolled down her ch
eeks. Her throat felt as if it was about to close up.

  Daniel was looking completely baffled.

  ‘Oh, don’t act as if you don’t even know what I’m talking about! You and Esther came out of the offices together just as I was about to cross the road, and you were . . . you . . .’ She began to lose control of herself. ‘You put your arm round her and you kissed her on the lips. I saw you, so don’t say you didn’t! And then you both went along the road, all over each other . . .’ She really began to weep now. ‘And . . . why did you say you loved me, when all the time . . .’ She put her hands over her face. ‘I can’t bear it!’

  Daniel was beside her at once.

  ‘Come here.’ He pulled her into his arms and for a moment she tried to resist, but then she sank against him exhausted. She felt him press his cheek against the side of her head. ‘What’ve you got yourself all upset for?’ he said soothingly. ‘Have you been fretting about this all week, silly?’ She nodded against his chest, feeling his shirt button against her cheek. ‘What, and worrying about old Esther? Gwen – you know what she’s like – she’s forever on at me. She’s a strange one and I feel sorry for her, that’s all.’

  Gwen pulled back and glared at him. ‘But you don’t have to kiss her on the lips just because you feel a bit sorry for her!’

  Daniel shrugged, comically. ‘It doesn’t mean anything – it’s just easy come, easy go – we’re comrades, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, I see – is that it! So that’s how it is with me as well, is it?’

  ‘No!’ His eyes held an intense expression which moved her. ‘You know it’s not, by now, don’t you? God, Gwen, how much more do I need to show you?’

  ‘You could have come and found me – this week,’ she said bitterly. ‘How am I supposed to know whether you care for me or not? Everything we do is when you want it or need it! I’ve been in such a state, and what do you care?’

  He looked chastened. ‘I just didn’t have a minute . . . There’s all the talk about the march at home and Spain, the demonstration . . . It’s just been non-stop . . .’ He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I’ve made you unhappy. But for heaven’s sake don’t let Esther be anything to worry about.’ He laughed at the ridiculousness of it. ‘I love you, girl. Like no one else. That’s all.’

  She leaned back into him with a sigh. She felt exhausted, foolish, wrung out. His hands were stroking her back.

  ‘Oh, Daniel – you’ll be the death of me.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ He put his face close to hers.

  She could hear that he meant it. They stood close, absorbing each other’s presence.

  ‘You’re lovely and warm,’ he said.

  ‘I had a bath.’

  He moved one hand and cupped it round her breast. She could feel the heat of his hand through the thin nightdress. They stood like that for a moment, looking at each other, then he took her hand and led her to the bed, making love to her with a taut urgency which moved her. They lay holding each other in silence for a long time. Then Daniel lifted his head and looked down into her eyes, again without speaking, and she stared back in a moment of pure concentration.

  ‘I never want to hurt you,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’re hopeless.’ Tears welled in her eyes again. Daniel gently wiped them from the side of her face with his thumb. He stroked her neck.

  ‘Don’t be so afraid. I love you.’

  She held him tight to her. ‘Not Esther?’ It humiliated her asking this, but she had to know.

  Daniel smiled. ‘No. Not Esther. Absolutely not old Esther.’

  ‘Stay with me tonight, Daniel, will you?’

  He leaned down and kissed her nose. ‘Course I will. You’ll have to move over.’

  She put the light out and they lay holding each other, talking very quietly for a long time. Daniel poured out his feelings about the work he was doing.

  ‘Sometimes I feel I’m running round, but I never manage to be in the right place at the right time,’ he said with a sigh. ‘There’s so much to get done, to make the revolution happen, and never enough people who’ve understood, who’ve caught the fire . . .’

  Gwen felt a pang of guilt. She was working with him because she loved him, but had she caught the fire? Had she really?

  ‘I’ll be back at school in a couple of weeks,’ she told him. ‘I’m afraid I shan’t have as much time.’

  ‘No – what you’re doing, educating the children . . . Sometimes that looks like a far more worthwhile thing to do – not like me . . . Sometimes I just wonder . . .’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’ She lifted her head off the pillow in alarm. Never had she heard him express such self-doubt before. ‘You’re doing all the things you believe are right, aren’t you? I thought you were pleased with how it’s going?’

  ‘I am.’ She heard him let out a long sigh beside her. ‘I s’pose I’m just worn out this week. But sometimes I think . . .’ He faltered.

  She stroked his chest. ‘What?’

  ‘That I’m not much of a person when you come down to it.’

  ‘Oh, Daniel – you are! You’re the best person I’ve ever met!’

  ‘No – there are things you don’t know about me, Gwen. Things I’m not very proud of.’

  A twist of fear went through her at the sad tone of his voice. She remembered Shân’s words downstairs that night in the house at Aberglyn. What was it Daniel was hiding? It sounded as if he had been in trouble at some time – with the police?

  ‘What things?’she asked faintly.

  ‘Oh, just – you know. We’ve all said and done things we’re not proud of.’ His voice was brisker now. He evidently wasn’t going to tell her, and how much did she really want to know? ‘It’s nothing really. I’m just overtired and gloomy tonight.’ He kissed her neck. ‘Turn over, my lovely. I want to lie behind you.’

  Pressed together, bodies fitting close, they slept.

  AUTUMN TERM

  1936

  Forty-Three

  ‘Donald Andrews? Joan Billings?’

  ‘Yes, Miss!’

  ‘Ernie Davis?’

  ‘Yes, Miss!’

  The register held few surprises. A boy had left to be replaced by a new girl, but otherwise Gwen found she was facing the same set of faces as last year. Now, though, they had a new classroom upstairs, at the front of the school overlooking the playground. Opposite Gwen on the wall was a large picture of a cross-section through a flower. She kept seeing the word ‘stamen’ when she looked up.

  ‘Lucy Fernandez?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  Gwen was about to let out the fond smile which she would naturally have given Lucy had she been at her home, but she curbed it. She knew the children must have realized she was walking out with Daniel, but none of them had the impudence to say anything to her about it. She didn’t want to be a teacher who had favourites.

  She went on, past Ron Parks, who, she noted, had at last lost his two black front teeth, and Alice Wilson peering eagerly through her specs. She closed the register.

  ‘Milk monitors . . .’ she said, thinking aloud. She looked round at the class. ‘But first – I hope you all had a nice summer? You look bigger!’ The summer months had made last year’s Form Four sprout up to a size fitting for Form Fives.

  ‘Anyway – it’s very nice to see you all again. I hope you’re going to work very well for me this year?’

  There were a few scattered replies of ‘Yes, miss.’ Lucy was watching her every move. What a sweet face she had, Gwen thought. She looked so like Daniel it was almost unnerving having her in the class. She found she too was glad to be back.

  The staffroom was its usual drab self and things were much as ever, except that Mr Lowry was no longer spending time there during the teabreaks, and last term’s new teacher, Charlotte Rowley, often did not come in either. Miss Pringle announced that she had seen her going into Mr Lowry’s office at the beginning of break in the first week of term, at which Miss Monk
said nothing but swelled visibly with inner emotion. Gwen wasn’t interested in whether Charlotte Rowley was in the staffroom or not. She thought she was a chilly woman anyway.

  Lily Drysdale was in her corner of the room rummaging through a canvas bag which appeared to contain a collection of socks.

  ‘Hello,’ she said distractedly, giving Gwen a knowing look, which Gwen took to mean, ‘I know you’re a Communist, dear, but don’t worry I won’t tell anybody,’ though it might not, of course, have meant anything of the sort. But having been mainly with party members all the summer, Gwen was conscious of coming back into a quite different environnment, where Daniel’s passionate views might not have met with much sympathy.

  ‘Are those for the children or for Spain?’ Gwen asked.

  Lily smiled, faintly. ‘Oh, for the children. Though I do think as a staff we might think about gathering a few things together for the Spanish people.’

  Mr Gaffney was nodding in his vague way, but Miss Monk looked up from her chair and said aggressively, ‘Ah, but which Spanish people?’

  ‘Well, which would you suggest?’ Lily Drysdale asked.

  ‘Oh.’ Miss Monk sniffed. ‘I have no views on the subject.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time you had then,’ Lily replied sharply.

  Gwen grinned, her back to Miss Monk. Only Lily Drysdale could get away with treating Miss Monk like that. She perched on the table beside Lily, who told her more about her church’s work in collecting medicines for Spain. There was talk of an ambulance going from Birmingham.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Lily said after a while, about to move away.

  ‘Yes – I’d love one. But I wanted to ask you – have you heard anything more about that boy – Joey Phillips?’

  Lily bit her lower lip and shook her head. ‘No. Poor little scrap. That was a very sad case.’

  Gwen had moved out of Millie and Lance’s flat at the beginning of September. Ariadne welcomed her back with enthusiasm, a newly repainted room and a meal which was almost edible and which they ate alone because, Ariadne said, ‘that young trollop’ upstairs had announced she wasn’t eating any more meals in the house because – and here Ariadne almost pulsated with affrontery – the food was only fit for the pig bin!