Wise Child

by Audrey Reimann

  She was a disappointment to Howard. He said as much last night. She had gone to bed early, hoping that if she feigned sleep he would leave her alone. Sometimes it worked. Last night he came into the bedroom carrying a tray with sherry and two glasses upon it. He found her lying on top of the sheets, with the window open to let in the cooler night air. He said, in the mocking tone he used, 'Don't go to sleep, Elsie. Your husband demands his conjugal rights.' He brought sherry to the bed and shook her shoulder.

  Elsie drank her sherry while he undressed. She looked away, unable to stand the sight of his bony, naked body. It repulsed her, yet she must go along with this charade' of love making. It was only fair.

  He took away her empty glass and lay down beside her, turned to face her and without a word, much less a look of love, began to clutch at her breast and squeeze it slowly, trapping the nipple between bony fingers. The other hand slid inside her thigh and set to work, clawing and pinching. Where had he learned these painful tricks?

  'Isn't my wife in the mood tonight?' he said as she recoiled. 'Then perhaps she could give her husband a little happiness instead?' He wanted her to take that limp thing in her hand and excite him to the point where he might be able to use it - if she were quick and ready.

  He took his right hand from her thigh, grabbed her hand and tried to force her to hold his flaccid part while Elsie struggled not to. Then, with eyes closed, he continued for a few moments longer to squeeze her breast, saying irritably when she did not respond, 'I'll be gone for a week. Don't be selfish. Let me at least go satisfied.'

  Elsie moved his hand away from her breast and rolled on to her side, facing him. She would have to do it, though she'd had no experience of this performance and always got it wrong. Howard was going to teach her something more adventurous, he told her, when she'd mastered the manual skill. If he was thinking of what she suspected he was - the skills people hinted were Nellie Plant's own speciality - then it would be all over between them. But he took her hand and placed it where he wanted it. 'There,' he said. 'Now don't be afraid. You can't break it, you know ...'

  She felt it give a little jerk as she got to work.

  'Not so fast!' he said. Then when she slowed, 'Harder! come on.' His bony fingers plucked at her breast, then squeezed. 'Keep going. Kiss me.'

  Elsie put her lips against his tight-closed mouth. She could feel the clenched teeth behind his lips. He liked her to move her lips slowly against his. As long as her lips were dry. He hated 'sloppiness'. She could hear his breath coming faster now he was becoming rigid. Quickly she rolled on to her back and pulled him on top of her and felt him pushing against her, against her public bone. She eased up a little so that he sank down. He was not inside but he'd think only that he had made it and that she was not ready - and he didn’t concern himself with her pleasure. He told her that she was a hopeless wife who compared unfavourably with his first, invalid wife. The refusal of her body to respond to his touch – its habit of remaining dry and guarded - had made her believe that her own passion was spent.

  At last he came to his own climax with a terrible drawing together of his eyebrows, indrawn breath hissing between clenched teeth as if the whole business were a painful, disgusting agony. Elsie did her wifely duty by giving a small groan that he would take to be delight, and waited for a few seconds for him to roll away and fall into a deep sleep. Then she got up and went to the bathroom, to wash away all traces of her husband and to pray for sleep.

  Today, lying in the sun, she knew her own passions were not dead. Last week, in the heat of June, they had burst into life again. She had started to dream, night after night, that Frank was making love to her - so strong were the dreams that she woke up, shivering for his touch, wanting him back. It was an agonising decision she must make. She had always wanted marriage. Now she had it she was in danger of throwing it all away. Howard would leave her, divorce her if he found out. She was contemplating breaking the seventh commandment. It would finish Dad if he thought that his daughter could so easily break the commandments he lived by. And this time it would not be Frank but she who'd be committing adultery.

  She must have fallen asleep, for she was dreaming about Frank again, dreaming that he was touching her and she was on fire for him and he was whispering in her ear, 'I can't go on without you, Elsie. You know there was never anyone but you.’

  She came up, out of the dream, and found herself looking into those hot hazel eyes and feeling Frank's hands sliding over her body, holding her at the hips while his mouth closed over her breast. Instantly all her senses came leaping into life.

  'Frank. Oh, Frank …" she whispered. 'I want you, too.' When he brought his face up from her breast she slid tender arms about his neck and sought his mouth until they went rolling into the long cool grass under the trees.

  He stood up, took off his clothes and draped them over a low branch of the apple tree. He smiled down and said, 'Adam and Eve, eh? Temptress!'

  She reached out to grab his hand and pull him down, and as he squatted beside her he said, 'Does he keep you short, Elsie? Can't you go on without me?'

  Elsie tried to control the churning, stirring inside herself. She was faint with need of him but she would not admit that she had been lying here, longing for him to come to her. She tried to be nonchalant, and looked away so he should not see the truth in her eyes. 'I'm not complaining,' she said. 'I'm glad I'm a married woman,’ but even as she spoke she wanted him to grasp her tight, to take her roughly and hard so she had no chance to waver.

  He began to stroke her oiled thighs so that she would quicken and shiver. 'I'm not going to be your plaything, Elsie. We go back to where we were before - or not at all.'

  Still she would not admit to her need but said softly, 'I want you back.'

  'How often can we be together?' he asked. He might be arranging a lease on one of his properties.

  She was not to be allowed the excuse of being overcome, then? He expected her to devise their arrangement. She said, 'Howard goes away early on Monday mornings ... You could telephone about eight o'clock ... there's nobody here ...'

  'And you are alone in the shop on Wednesday afternoons?' He ran his hands lightly across her breasts, his face serious though he must see the response in her body. He wanted to have it all back as before, with his woman available for him three times a week as she had always been. She tried to regain the high ground. She looked up at him. 'I'm not miserable, Frank. I want to stay married. And I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of hearing all the intimate details ...' but instead of the burning desire she thought she'd find in his eyes, she saw amusement.

  He threw back his head and laughed out loud as he straddled her, making her hold on to him for support. 'Intimate details?' he said. 'What intimate details?'

  Elsie's hands slid round his waist. She moved in close and put her cheek against his muscular chest, and bit her lip to stop herself from losing control too fast. But his hands were caressing the heavy breasts she was thrusting forward for him and she caught her breath and tried to keep her balance and stop herself from falling back where he wanted her, flat on the grass with her hips lifting to receive him.

  He stopped, laughed again and said, 'There aren't any intimate details worth hearing, are there?'

  'No,' she whispered.

  'Not like us, is it? Not like this with anyone else, Elsie?'

  She lay back on the grass and reached out her arms for him as he came down on top of her with the little grunting noise he always made when he knew she was ready for him. Then he wiped the tears away from the comers of her eyes with his fingers and very softly said, 'If you had waited for me, love .. If you'd married me ...'

  'Are you proposing?' Elsie's voice was low-pitched with love for him. 'Now you are safe?'

  He planted little kisses all over her face and neck and said, 'You've always been my wife, Elsie .. .' Then his mouth was on hers and everything but fiery need was being blotted out as she melted inside. He stopped kissing her and looked
at her for a moment with buming eyes. 'I love you, Elsie.'

  'I love ...' Elsie said, but he had not heard for his mouth was fastening on to hers again and his hands were sliding over her hips, moving her legs apart, and he was going deep, deep into her, making her cry out for him and grasp him into herself. And it was as if they had spent ten years apart and could never be filled nor their thirst slaked, for she was whimpering and crying out, 'Frank. Oh my God!' as they spent themselves and repeated their spending in an orgy, a gluttony of love.

  Chapter Eighteen

  lsobel was denied all privileges for the summer. They told her that she should be thankful she had not been expelled after 'letting down the good name of St Ursula's’ last term. She was forbidden to go to town or to use the school's telephone once a week as the other girls did. But she was allowed pen and paper and she wrote to Sylvia and Magnus, apologising for everything - for borrowing Sylvia's dress and tearing it, for provoking a scene between Ian and Ray Chancellor, for leaving the party without saying goodbye. She thought she had ruined everything, thought that Sylvia and Magnus would want to end their friendship. But she asked them to remember her to Ian and Rowena, then she sealed the letter and posted it. The next move was up to Sylvia and Magnus, because she would not go to Archerfield again since she knew what Mrs Hammond thought of her.

  She wrote to Nanna:

  'Dearest Nanna,

  I'm sorry that I got you into trouble. We break up at the end of July. I'll come up to Lindow to study every weekend, if that's all right. I'm allowed to sit the School Certificate next year and I am desperate to pass. During the week I'll be at the shop, making things to sell, where I can watch over Mam.'

  Back in Macclesfield, she and Mam sewed at Jordangate every morning. They took the sewing machine and a table upstairs to the old sitting room where there was plenty of space and light. The room looked almost inviting now that Mam had put down a carpet and placed an enormous leather and horsehair sofa before the fireplace.

  Her stepfather was seldom at home because his new factory, which neither Isobel nor Mam had seen, was not yet breaking even and, he said, it took all his time to keep his head above water.

  lsobel was happy that summer. With or without her stepfather, she and Mam went to evensong at St Michael's and Isobel knew a warm contentment, seeing Mam praying and joining in the responses, saying the Confession so fervently: Almighty and Most Merciful Father; We have erred and strayed from Thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against Thy holy laws ...

  It was at this point that Ma always closed her eyes, knowing how Grandpa lived by the holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us.

  There was health in Mam though. Mam's brush with death had given her a fright and now she took great care. She was healthy and pretty again. But Thou. 0 Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders. Spare Thou them, 0 God, which confess their faults. Restore Thou them that are penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesus our Lord…

  Isobel was aware that Mam meant every word -and especially these last: And grant 0 most merciful Father, for his sake; That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous and sober life. To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.

  Mam had stopped drinking. It was like old times on Fridays. Mam would be in the shop, laughing and hearing all the gossip about Nellie Plant, who was soon to marry a rich widower from Wilmslow. Mr Chancellor had introduced them. And while Mam was 'hawhawing' and 'hem-hemming' Isobel would be doing a bit of hand stitching, making tea for old friends and planning her afternoons, which she spent with Shandy.

  Isobel was surprised one day when Shandy ran into the shop to say, 'I'll treat you to afternoon tea at the Comer Cafe. I have something important to tell,' and ran away before Mam or she could question her.

  The Corner Cafe on Castle Street was only yards from the grocery shop, the doley shop, where the poor exchanged their Public Assistance vouchers for groceries. Isobel felt guilty walking past that long line of patient people. Always there would be people she recognised, and as she passed they'd look away, embarrassed. Inside the cafe, seeing the price, one and sixpence, on the menu she said to Shandy, 'You can't afford to pay for all this. You only get a few shillings a week.'

  'Four and six,' Shandy said. 'But I get free board and lodgings.’

  'You'd get that anyway,' she told her firmly. 'You ought to be paid as much as a housekeeper - and get your board and lodgings. Tell your father to give you a rise.'

  'He would, if I asked. We've got the contract to supply the doley shop and the feeding centre. They give two hundred children free dinners every day. It's a lot of bread.' Isobel passed the teacakes. Shandy said, 'I wanted to talk to you here where it's private ...' She glanced about but there was nobody near. All the same she leaned across the table and whispered, 'Doreen Grimshaw's got her claws into our Cyril!'

  The three older Anderson brothers were married. The idea of Doreen taking a shine to the handsome but immature Cyril was ludicrous. Isobel almost laughed but, seeing Shandy's worried face, didn't. She said, 'I'd have thought she'd go for someone older, more her sort - not a nice lad like your Cyril.'

  'He's daft about her. Do you know what my brothers are saying?'

  Isobel shook her head. 'They say they all had a turn before they got married. Doreen's been charging men, for years. Jack said, "She's a whore, Cyril. What's worse, she's a box-of-chocolates whore! '"

  Imagine men saying things like that about a girl, even a girl as fast as Doreen. 'It can't be true,' Isobel said, 'You couldn't keep something like that quiet in Macclesfield. Cyril wouldn’t marry a girl with a reputation.'

  'He says my brothers are jealous. He's going to ask her to marry him. He says there's plenty of room for him and Doreen in our house. They are going to live with us. If she says yes, I'm leaving home!'

  'It won't come to it.' Isobel smiled at Shandy's furious freckled face. 'Doreen doesn't want to get married. She told Mam she's having a good time with every man in Macc. after her.'

  'I hope you're right,' Shandy said. 'She'll lead her husband a merry dance. I don't want it to be one of my brothers.'

  Magnus and Sylvia had gone to Scotland for two weeks in July but had not come back by the time Isobel returned to school. Then Sylvia wrote to Isobel. There was no mention of the party.

  She wrote: Magnus was taken into hospital after he cut himself. It was a blade of grass, Isobel. A simple thing like that. He plucked a blade of grass to suck the sweet end and when he pulled it out of his mouth the grass sliced his finger. It’s terrifying, knowing that such a tiny injury can threaten his life.

  We have prayed so hard that his illness would be cured. It is a cruel fate and Magnus knows it. He's usually so brave but this time he broke down and cried, 'It puts the fear of God into my heart, seeing my life blood flowing away from me.' They tied his hand to the headpost of the bed to elevate it. It took a week to stop bleeding and all the time blood was oozing out from where a clot was forming very slowly. He is out of hospital, but weak and low in spirits. He says he doesn't want to go home and let anyone (he means you, of course) see him like this. He says he may as well stay until the end of September. Mama and I will stay with him.

  She also had a letter from Ian. It was a matter-of-fact letter without a single tender word. He talked about his studies. This year he was very busy, spending most of his time working in a hospital. His handwriting was a scrawl. It seemed that doctors must always be inscrutable when they put pen to paper. Then, at the bottom, after he had signed himself 'Yours, Ian', he had added a postscript that sent her spirits soaring to heaven: 'PS: You have an appointment with a doctor, 14 March 1937,' This would be her eighteenth birthday. 'Meet me White Nancy. 3pm.'

  She had not wanted to go back to St Ursula's after the weeks spent with Mam. She had been back less than a fortn
ight when, in the middle of a maths lesson, the school secretary came into the classroom and crooked her finger to call lsobel out to the front and say, 'The headmistress wishes to speak to you, lsobel Leigh.'

  Her heart pounding in alarm, wondering what on earth she had done, Isobel followed the secretary to the oak-panelled study where Miss Colclough was seated behind her desk, facing the door. In front of her lay Isobel's school file with copies of her three school reports. Attached to the top report was a large pink cheque, drawn on the District Bank, Jordangate, Macclesfield. Isobel could not see if it was Mam or her stepfather who had signed it, because the signature was obscured by an opened-out telegram.

  'I've received a telegram,' Miss Colclough said. 'From Mrs Isobel Stanway. Who ... ?'

  'My grandmother,' !sobel said quickly. Her heart beat faster. Why would Nanna send a telegram?

  'It says, "Please send Isobel home. Mother is ill. '"

  Her knees went weak. 'Mam wasn't ill ten days ago.'

  Miss Colclough winced when she said 'Mam' instead of 'Mother'. ‘Take the train. Can you make your own way to the station?'

  'Yes.' She stared at the telegram. It said 'seriously ill'.

  'Have you money enough for the fare?'

  'No.' Of course she hadn't enough money for the fare. There was a great fat cheque for a term's fees on the desk. The knot twisted in Isobel's stomach. 'Will you lend me ...?'

  Displeasure was all over Miss Colclough's stern face. 'I must ask you to sign for fifteen shillings,' she said. 'If you intend to travel first class as our girls..'

  'Please.' lsobel's hands were shaking as she signed the note and took the money. Then she ran to the dormitory to fling on her gabardine and outdoor shoes. Mam was ill. She couldn't believe it. She ran like the wind to Lord Street, and when she arrived at Chapel Street, an express train to Manchester was leaving in two minutes' time. She went third class and had to stand all the way, all the time asking herself, What's the matter with Mam? Nanna wouldn't send for me unless Mam needed me. Mam was seriously ill. The old churning feeling was back in her stomach as she crossed from Manchester's Exchange Station to London Road for the train home to Macclesfield, where the only person waiting on the platform was Mr Chancellor.