Wise Child

by Audrey Reimann

  Nobody could point a finger at him -nobody but Nellie Plant. If only he hadn't been such a fool! He tied the dressing gown tight round his waist and poured another half-glass of whisky. Then he chuckled. Why imagine trouble? Nellie was satisfied with what he was doing for her. Ray was spending the weekend at Archerfield - and upstairs, waiting for him, exclusively his, was the woman whose kisses and body could rouse him as no other woman ever had or would. All her talk about marriage, silly hints about marrying Willey-Leigh, it was ridiculous. He'd seen them together at the Setter Dog. Elsie looked as miserable as sin in Leigh's company. She was trying to make him jealous. That was all it was.

  As for marrying…surely Elsie could see that it would be the worst thing for all of them? He was on the brink of having a real place in the town. He was respected for the way he'd conducted himself over Sarah's death and the near-ruinous allegations against Ray. How could they marry without telling Lily that he was her father? It would be a terrible thing to do to her. He couldn't tell his precious lass now that he was her father; that she had a brother, and that he and her mother had deceived her all these years. It would be madness to come out into the open.

  And what would Elsie gain? They both had everything they wanted, without marriage. And the best of what he wanted was upstairs, waiting for him. He put the empty glass down. Whisky could wait. He could not.

  He ran up the stairs and opened her bedroom door. There was a streetlamp outside and she had left the curtains open so that the wan, pale lamplight shone over the bed where she lay, draped, kimono open, exposing those unbelievable breasts; heavy, milky.

  Her eyelids were closed but fluttering. She was pretending to be asleep. Slowly he pulled the kimono open, and as the silk touched her skin he watched her breasts firming, her dark nipples become prominent, hardening and erect. He discarded the dressing gown and lowered himself over her, closing his mouth over one breast while he fondled and teased the other. He need only touch them to rouse Elsie. She opened her eyes.

  'Hello stranger,' she said in a voice that was low and husky. Her lovely mouth was smiling and her sensuous hips were moving, writhing. He stood up and took off his gown quickly while she slipped her arms out of the kimono and unfastened the button on her silky knickers.

  'I'll do that,' he said. He liked to take his time these days. He was not as quick as he used to be, but it was better now -it lasted longer. He grasped her ankles, lifting her off the bed as he slid the French silk thing down over her hips and cast it aside. Then be eased her legs back, bent at the knees, to put the soles of her feet flat on the bed and wide apart. Her blue eyes were narrow and inviting, her full red lips parted.

  He couldn't wait. And neither could Elsie. She would be hot and slippery, and thoughts of delaying techniques were gone as he lowered himself on to the bed and went into her slowly, and felt her drawing him up and high inside while she made that lovely 'soft moaning.

  'Elsie...' He gripped. Her hips, came out of her and said, 'Quick...' Then he sat up on the edge of the bed, picked her up easily and lifted her bodily on to himself so that she was facing him, straddled across him, hands on his thighs, feet splayed, knees gripping his hips.

  He edged forward, deeper into her and she put her arms round his neck and wrapped her legs about his body. 'How's that?' he said, and grinned as he heard her quick in-drawing breaths, felt the movement of her muscles sliding up and down on him. 'Oh, Elsie ... Elsie...' he cried, then stopped himself. He was going too fast.

  His mouth was on hers now and their tongues were moving, warm and deep, as he slowed down. He pulled away and watched her face, dark eyebrows drawing together with the heightening of her pleasure. He placed his hands on her rounded hips, gently lifted her and let her down, moving in time with him, slowly, her muscles holding and reaching for him, her beautiful sweet-scented breasts pressing into the skin of his chest and her breath coming fast and hot on his neck.

  'Good girl! Not so fast...' he said, and he disentangled her and made her hollow her back and put her hands on his knees to steady herself. Then he watched her face as he closed his mouth over the firm, creamy breast. She had been rubbing stuff into herself. The scent was filling his head as felt the nipple swelling on his tongue, filling his mouth. He took the other one next, and she moaned again with pleasure and contracted deep inside where he could feel her every little movement.

  Her eyes were closed, her mouth was red and full and at last she was making those whimpering noises that told him she was ready; those sounds that excited him so. He loved the noises, the taste of her, his intimate knowledge of her body. He knew every inch of her, every secret part of her. He could not hold back, for blood was pounding in him as he paced his movements inside the hot slippery...

  'Elsie ... I love you ... Oh God ... I love you..’ he cried out as he went harder, higher, streaming into her.

  He was making her cry out for him. 'Frank ... Oh, love .. , My God!'

  And they were mingling, coming together, subsiding and tightening again and again high inside her until it was done. Then' he held her there, sticky and salt-tasting, gasping for breath after release.

  He was glad he was no longer a young man. When he was young he could spend himself twice and no more. Now, it would take an hour, or longer, to reach a second climax. And Elsie? She was more than a match for him.

  He held her fast into him. When she made to move, to ease off him, he kissed deep and hard and bruising before he stopped and said, 'Stay there, woman. Until I'm ready. I'll tell you when to get off.'

  But now Elsie knew she had missed her chance, being too ready to please. It was four o'clock in the morning before they sat, she in her kimono, he in the dressing gown, in the kitchen, eating cheese butties and drinking the sherry and whisky. Frank was relaxed and happy when he had taken all he wanted of her. She had always been able to ask anything of him, so now she replenished their glasses, held hers towards him and said, 'Well, drink to us.'

  'To us? What do you mean?'

  'I think it's time you made an honest woman of me. Married me. I'm willing.' She said it like that; flat and bald. When it was said she added, 'I've waited a long time.'

  'For marriage? To me?' He looked surprised, as if it was the last thing he expected. 'The only reason to marry is to bring up children.'

  'I've brought your daughter up without a husband.'

  'She's nearly grown up. So's Ray.' He made a sheepish smile and took a sip of his drink. 'It would harm all of us, telling them now.'

  A lump came into the back of Elsie's throat. 'You want me to wait till our Lil's grown up?'

  'And Ray's off my hands.' He was not smiling. He was brisk and decided. He stood, put his glass down and reached for his clothes.

  Elsie was dumbfounded. 'Going home?' she asked. 'I thought you were going to stop...'

  'I never stop overnight. Can't afford to get caught.'

  Elsie held back her tears of disappointment as he threw his clothes on as fast as he could, tied his shoelaces with great ferocity and bent down to kiss her on the nape of her neck. Then he was gone. He slipped out at the back door. She heard his careful tread across the yard, the back gate closing and his footsteps growing fainter down the entryway with the confident cautiousness perfected over the years.

  Elsie's tears fell. He had promised nothing, said nothing significant. Did he expect her to wait until Lily and Ray were off their hands? Until their children were married? Was he asking her to wait at all?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mam's forecast about the money making no difference to their way of life was not the only one that had been wrong. She said they would have a holiday, and they didn't have that until Lily was fifteen, in 1934. Some of her friends were working. Magnus was helping his father in the mill. Shandy had left school willingly to keep house for her father and brothers.

  Lily had passed six RSA exams. Her ambition was to pass the School Certificate exams and think of a career. She was drawn to the law but didn't know whether th
ere were lady lawyers – or, being illegitimate, whether she could become one. Doreen was still at school, doing a commercial course of bookkeeping and typewriting. She was also getting a name for herself. The older girls said she was a 'bad girl'.

  They were both, Doreen and Shandy, ahead of Lily in physical development. Doreen was tall, broad-shouldered and busty. Shandy was small and athletic, but both of them had 'started' and Lily hadn't. Nanna said it would happen in time, and if she started later she'd keep her good looks for longer, like Mam.

  Mam had kept her slim figure and was proud of her appearance, but in the two years since the legacy she had grown harder, and it showed in the sharp lines on her face that made her appear older and slightly desperate. It was as if she'd had a disappointment that had made her bitter not the unexpected windfall that had made Lily pleased with life.

  Mam and she walked arm in arm through the market one warm summery Saturday afternoon in April. The eighty stalls were crammed between the Town Hall and Sparrow Park and reached through the arched Unicorn Gateway which separated two pubs, the Unicorn and the Unicorn Gateway.

  'We're going to Nanna's after dinner.' Mam stopped in front of a stall that sold honey and big round oatcakes. 'Buy a dozen. We'll take them with us.'

  'We?' Mam hadn't been to Lindow and stayed overnight, for ages.

  'Yes. I want to talk to Nanna and Grandpa,' she said. 'I've decided it's time we had that holiday we've been promising ourselves.'

  'Where are we going? Can we afford it? How long for?' Lily asked. They talked about holidays but always the plans fizzled out as Mam never would tear herself away from Macclesfield when everyone else was away at Barnaby or October Wakes week.

  'We're going to Southport.' Mam put the honey and rolled oatcakes in her shopping basket.

  Lily's high spirits plummeted again. 'Mr Leigh lives in Southport,' she said. 'We're not staying at his house...?'

  'No!' Mam smiled. 'That wouldn't be right. But Southport's a better class of place than Blackpool. Half of Macc goes to Blackpool. 1 want to get away. We're going to take some money out of the bank. Stay in a hotel.' She went back towards the Market Place, through the gateway, walking fast, Lily dawdling behind, ignoring the cries of vendors, the aroma of roasted meat, lost in a dream of hotels, sand and sea and sunshine.

  'Come on, Lil,' Mam said over her shoulder. 'I don't want to hang about.'

  Lily caught up with her. 'You're not tired already, are you?' It was worrying, the way Mam flagged; lost her energy. But that wasn't the problem.

  Mam had spotted someone she didn't want to speak to. She set her face in the direction of Jordangate. 'Come on!' she said, tugging Lily's arm. 'Look behind in a minute. Not now. Don't let her see you looking!' Mam's expression was fixed, furious.

  Lily adjusted her shoe buttons and, looking back, saw the cause of Mam's anger. Nellie Plant and the little boy she had recently adopted were standing in front of the Bull's Head. Nellie was corseted into a tight pale-blue costume with, ridiculously for the warm day, a huge fur coat wide open to show off the suit and coat. She and the little blond boy, who was about five, were laughing out loud with a bunch of the ne'er-do-well men who gathered outside the Bull's Head on market days. Lily stood and hurried to catch Mam.

  'Common as muck!' Mam whispered. 'Filthy little piece! Brothel-keeper! That's what she is!'

  Lily was used to Mam's tongue-lashing of Nellie Plant, but this was going too far. 'Mam! What's brought this on?'

  'You know Frank Chancellor's bought the Unicorn?'

  'Yes. It's no secret.'

  'He's blatant!' Mam replied. 'He's set his fancy woman up now.'

  'Nellie Plant?'

  'I don't know how he gets away with it. And him a JP.'

  'Being a magistrate doesn’t stop you from buying property,does it?'

  'He's bought a licence for her. She's the landlady of the Ring O'Bells up Backwallgate.' Mam was spitting fire. 'He'll be ringing her bell, all right!'

  That must be an insult. Lily tried another tack. 'Does it matter?'

  Mam replied by gripping Lily's arm tight without revealing her mood to passers-by. 'Matter? Of course it matters! Hah'd is trying to decide between buying a house and taking a room at the Ring O'Bells. He says that all the talk about Nellie Plant's ministering to her residents is salacious lies. He says the Ring O'Bells has a good reputation for food and accommodation.'

  'There you are, then.'

  'Well, I've told him, if he moves in with Nellie Plant he can court her an' all! I'm sick of this town. I'd get out now, if I could.'

  Doreen Grimshaw, sullen and bad-tempered and dressed up to look more like a twenty-year-old than her fifteen years, glared at Lily across the compartment. Lily ignored her. They were on the first leg of the journey to Southport, and she didn't want any part of her holiday ruined by Doreen. The Grimshaws were going to Manchester.

  Lily tried to switch off the listening part of her brain as she gazed over the flat fields where the Bollin looped and curled. She thought about her four brand new bought dresses. Today she was wearing a blue and white striped dress of linen. It had a dropped waist, short sleeves and a finely pleated skirt. The wheels' regular rhythm, 'chatta-ta-tom... chatta-ta-tom', was music to her ears as she breathed what was to her the stimulating smell - sulphurous fumes and tobacco smoke - of the compartment.

  Mam was speaking to Mr Grimshaw. 'What were you saying, Bert? About Chancellor's?'

  'I said, Ray doesn't believe in fixed wages and regular hours,' Mr Grimshaw said. 'The factory is going on to piece rate and shift work.'

  Mrs Grimshaw nodded agreement. 'They are lucky to be in work. Not signing on at the labour exchange every day.'

  It was impossible to concentrate on the view. Mam should have had her fill of Macclesfield gossip, but she was working up to finding out the latest scandal about Nellie Plant. She was too good at investigating with that feigned casualness to let the Grimshaws guess what she was after. Mam's face was animated as she and Mr and Mrs Grimshaw talked about Chancellor's, the depression and the closure of Macclesfield mills.

  'It's getting worse,' Mam agreed. 'You'd think with so many out of work, the pubs would be doing badly. But there you are. The Ring O'Bells must be doing well if Nellie Plant can afford to adopt a child. Swanking round town, dressed up like a tart with that lad done out in his posh school uniform. St Bride's indeed! And him only five years old!'

  'You are off to Southport, Elsie?' Mrs Grimshaw said. 'Miss Plant comes from Southport.'

  'So she says!' Mam said.

  Doreen had a sly expression on her face. 'Are you going to stay with Mr Willey? Mr Willey comes from Southport, doesn't he?'

  'Willey-Leigh!' said Mam. 'Mr Willey-Leigh has a very large house in Southport. We are staying at the Beach View. On the prom.'

  'Oh, I see,' said Doreen.

  'No you don't,' Mam snapped back.

  Mr Grimshaw, whose mind had not hopped from the original subject, said, 'Miss Plant used to go back to Southport once a month for a long weekend. Her mother died recently.'

  'Well I never,' Mam replied.

  Lily sighed. Mam did know that Nellie Plant went to Southport. She always wanted to know what Nellie Plant was up to. She asked Howard Leigh about her all the time. Lily glanced at Mam, who was wearing her red-spotted artificial silk two-piece with the flat-brimmed white straw hat. Mam opened her vanity case and inspected her mouth for her lipstick.

  'She nearly lost her mother a few years back,' said Mr Grimshaw. 'She took six months off. Compassionate leave. Mr Chancellor said her job would be waiting for her.'

  'I don't remember Nellie Plant leaving Macclesfield for all that time,' Mam said. 'How long ago?'

  'It's over five years since,' said Mr Grimshaw.

  'Oh! Heavens! Why on earth are we wasting our breath on Nellie Plant?' Mam snapped down the lid of her compact in a dismissive way that covered a burning interest. 'She's of no interest to us.'

  'Everyone's saying...' Mrs Grimsha
w leaned towards Mam, 'it's her child. They say her mother looked after it, but when her mother died Nellie cracked on she'd adopted him!'

  'Well, I never heard the like,’ Mam replied. 'I wonder who... ?'

  Mam said she was sick of Macclesfield and would get out of it if she could. Lily would never fathom Mam out.

  After leaving the Grimshaws in Piccadilly they crossed Manchester by tram, caught the train at Exchange and arrived in Southport at midday. They steeped on to a long sunny platform where porters bustled for business and Mam gave her orders in her posh voice to the taxicab driver. Lily could hardly contain herself for pleasure in the salt-scented air, the sun, the wide streets and the prospect of the drive on the tree-lined boulevard of Lord Street.

  'Look!' she said in the taxi as one sight after another unfolded. 'A fountain. A bandstand with a band playing, and it isn't Sunday.' At the sight of the flower-decked glass canopies over the shops she was at last silenced. 'Have you ever seen anything like it?'

  Mam said to the driver, 'Please drive slowly along Cambridge Road before you take us to the promenade.' Then, to Lily, 'Hah'd has a house in Cambridge Road. We'll have a nosy!'

  They left Lord Street and were being driven past houses such as Lily had never seen, huge houses standing in great tree-filled gardens, four-storey shiny red-brick mansions with towers and turrets and bay windows you could fit Mam's whole shop into. They had grand sweeps of steps up to ornate front doors, and wide gravel drives with dazzling cars threading in and out.

  'I wonder which it is?' Mam said.

  'The Beach View's this end of the promenade,' the taxi driver said. 'Not far from Cambridge Road. Soon be there.'

  'Can you tell me where the registrar's office is?' Mam asked him next. 'I have to make a few enquiries.'