‘You love your father? It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’
‘I love me mam and our Emma, and the bairns,’ she said, but did not add, ‘and Martin, who loves his dead wife’.
He pushed her down on to the bed and rolled on top of her to begin a more urgent lovemaking.
‘You love this,’ he said, ‘and you love the stage. But most of all, you love this.’
No, most of all I love the stage, she thought, until he brought her to a searing climax. Then she cried, ‘Oh, Charlie, I love you, I love you, I love you.’
The following Friday Ginny kept money back from her pay before handing the rest to Charlie.
‘I’m going to send it, Charlie. It’ll make a big difference to me mam. Our Emma might even get to be a teacher,’ she defied him.
‘I’ve told you not to communicate with them, for your own good as well as to avoid any inconvenience to me. What do you imagine the situation will be when I visit Annsdale, if it gets out there that we’re living as man and wife? I should be in fear of my life from that animal of a father of yours. I shudder to think what he might be capable of. And you, Ginny, what do you suppose all those good Methodist people will think about you?’
She knew he was right. To write home and tell them she was doing well on the music halls would prompt questions as to how it had all come about. They might even want to come and see her, and she shrank from the thought that anybody in Annsdale should know she was living in sin with Charlie Parkinson. Better to lie, to let them believe she’d gone into service as she’d intended in the first place. Arguments against giving Annsdale cause to despise her cut deep; but she found that she could contemplate the idea of Charlie going in fear of his life with a smile. She wavered for a moment, and then with less certainty said, ‘Well, I’m going to send some, Charlie.’
‘Very well,’ he conceded, ‘but you must send no more than a housemaid might have earned. That will cause no suspicion, and it’ll be enough for them, at their station in life. It’s more than they ought to expect. Morales has put me on to a first-rate songwriter, and he won’t come cheap. I think you fail to understand how heavy your expenses are, Ginny. There’s very little of your salary left once they’ve been met. Please understand that, and let me have no more nonsense about it. And don’t give them your address. It won’t do for then to know it.’
Ginny soon began to cover the long way spoken of by Signor Morales. On stage she developed a stillness that gave emphasis to her slightest gesture, and developed a line of banter that was always friendly unless some heckler chose to make it otherwise. Then the repartee became acid, much to the amusement of the rest of the audience. Her sense of timing was acute, and she knew how to add impact to a punchline with a variation in tempo or an understated wink or nod. She became a mistress of double entendre. Her act could never have corrupted an innocent, but no man or woman of the world could fail to grasp its meaning. They clapped and shouted approval of her slyness, and more and better offers poured in. With a couple of good songs specially written for her, she gained in confidence. Her songwriter was the best in the business.
‘It’s a real pleasure to rehearse a new song of mine with you, Ginny. You’ve a good voice, but performance and inflection matter more. You seem to grasp the meaning behind every line at first sight,’ he told her after a rehearsal, while his wife sat smiling beside them, handing out tea and cakes.
‘It’s a pleasure for me, too,’ she assured him. ‘Your songs are so easy to sing.’
They were middle-aged and kindly, and Ginny felt herself really at home for the first time since her arrival in London. The atmosphere in their house was as relaxed and comforting as that at Mam Smith’s, and she began to think of them as friends. Charlie seldom accompanied her on her visits to them, and she sensed some antipathy between the two men under the veneer of politeness.
She liked most of the other artistes, and enjoyed the consciousness that she was liked in return by most of the women among them, and admired by most of the men. Some of them told her so. She gossiped enthusiastically with them in her newly acquired London accent, her black eyes dancing, her laugh ringing out at every witticism. In company she was full of life, ready for fun and anxious to be friendly, but in her private moments she was sometimes homesick, and thought often of Martin, despite feeling herself entirely-Charlie’s property.
‘Am I earning enough money for us to be married yet?’ she asked, as they rode around St James’s Park one Sunday afternoon.
‘Not yet, little hinny. Soon.’
She pulled a face of disappointment. ‘How soon?’
He shrugged, and was silent.
‘Charlie?’ Still he did not answer.
‘You remember what you said about my monthlies?’
The process of restoring late monthlies, spoken of in such trifling terms by Charlie, was worse than Ginny could ever have imagined. It was performed that same evening by Charlie’s own housekeeper in his own bathroom, and performed cleanly and efficiently as soon as the lady had boiled the necessary equipment, scrubbed her hands, and cleansed her patient. As Charlie testified, the woman thoroughly knew her business. She had been of service to lady-friends of his on several occasions, and as long as she could set to work before the thing was too far advanced, she could guarantee a safe and satisfactory outcome. He decided to go out for the evening with friends and leave the women to their business.
After the ordeal, the housekeeper helped the weeping Ginny into bed, where she lay shocked, disgusted and quivering.
‘Come, come, don’t be such a baby. You’ll feel better presently, now your troubles are behind you. No use crying over spilt milk. It’s a price we sometimes have to pay for our pleasures. You’re not the first to need my services and I daresay you won’t be the last. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’
When Charlie got into bed beside her in the small hours, she turned away from him. ‘How many of your lady-friends has she helped like this, Charlie?’ she asked, hugging a belly now racked by cramp.
‘One or two. I assure you she knows what she’s about. She was a midwife once. I wouldn’t have trusted my little hinny to any but the cleanest and most practised hands.’
‘How many lady-friends have you had?’
‘So many questions. I’ve never professed myself a monk, Ginny, and I’m over thirty years old. I’ve had a good many women, no doubt, but never one quite like you.’
She couldn’t sleep, and Charlie said it was pointless for two of them to lie awake. He could do nothing to help her, and when she’d tossed and turned for half an hour he went to sleep in another room, after instructing his housekeeper to wait upon her if she needed anything. Ginny would almost rather have died than have that woman near her again. She lay hugging herself until morning, frightened and alone.
There was no matinee the following day, and when she arrived at the theatre in time for her evening performance, a kindly fellow artiste remarked on her peaky appearance.
‘You need plenty of rouge on those cheeks, my dear. You’re as white as a sheet.’
‘I’m not feeling quite up to the mark,’ Ginny admitted. ‘I’ve a headache. I feel tired.’
‘You need a restorative. Have a little brandy and soda.’
‘Will it do me good, do you think?’
‘My dear, have you on form in no time. There’s nothing to beat it as a pick-me-up.’
She knew that feeling as she did she would never be able to deliver the goods the audience had paid for, so she took the drink and soon felt a little better. By the time she had her last call, she felt almost herself.
‘How was I?’ she asked anxiously, as she came off stage.
‘So so. But we all have our off nights.’
‘I don’t want many nights as off as this one. But you’re right. I was bloody awful.’
Chapter 16
Ginny was relieved to prove the housekeeper right. After a week she was as well as ever, and working harder. Charlie was an assiduous ag
ent, and started booking her at two houses a night, sending a cab to carry her between them, which sometimes put her in a fever of anxiety that she would be late for her second engagement. He rarely accompanied her now, she’d been in the business long enough not to need hand-holding, and it was ‘too much for a fellow to have to see the same act ad nauseam’. He often went out alone and saw her at home later. She moved in a solitary groove of theatres, the songwriter’s house, and Charlie’s, almost too busy to notice the passage of time and, apart from their occasional trips to the races and their Sundays together, feeling utterly isolated. Charlie seemed hardly to notice her unless he was collecting her salary or satisfying himself with her. When her monthlies were late again, her nerves were almost at breaking point.
‘I wish I’d stayed in Annsdale and taken a hiding off me father. It would have been better than this. I was warned about people like you. I was warned about you, come to that,’ she shouted.
He gave a snort of derision. ‘I refuse to listen to such outrageous cant. Deep down, you willed all this, my hinny. A part of you, a powerful part that your Methodist hypocrisy refuses to acknowledge, willed it all and would have it so. You worked to bring it about.’
She put her hands over her ears. ‘I did not. I did not,’ she screamed. ‘I came to London for a living-in job because you said you’d help me to get a one, and I daren’t stay at home. You tricked me into your house, and you promised to marry me, and you terrified me into letting you do as you liked with me. You raped me, Charlie.’
He took hold of her wrists and wrenched her hands away. His cheeks were flushed but his words were like ice. ‘You like to delude yourself, Ginny, but think of it. You were warned about me but no warning could hold you back. Why was that? You allowed nothing to prevent you from coming to me, and the blushing virgin in you was extinguished in an hour.’
‘It’s not true, it’s not true.’ She shrieked, and sank to the floor, covering her head with her forearms as if to fend off a blow.
He knelt beside her and spoke deliberately and remorselessly. ‘It is true, and now you have what you wanted more than anything else, a man who can serve you well and serve you often. I use the word serve quite accurately. I perform a service for you. It’s your necessity as much as mine, more so at times, and you revel in it. It pains me to offend your Methodist sensibilities, but in plain English, Ginny, you want it, and you like it, and you could not do without it.’ He attempted to push her back against the rug, but she moved away from him. He redoubled his efforts but had no more success until he had her pressed against the wall unable to move further, with his hand up her skirts and inside her split-leg drawers.
‘See, Ginny, see what you wear? You came to me that night in these, as if you wanted nothing to obstruct me. My Ginny in her ever-readies. My ever-ready little hinny.’
‘Liar, liar. They were all I had when I came here, and you’ve bought them for me ever since.’
‘Wait there,’ he said, tearing at his own clothing, ‘and I’ll show you why you’ve never objected to wearing them.’
‘Leave me alone. I’m probably with child already.’
‘No more damage to be done, then,’ he reasoned. She cried softly, but ceased to struggle.
‘See,’ he said, ‘this is what you like, and this, and this.’
She lay still and unresponsive for a while, but eventually put her arms around him and drew him to her, to begin moving with him, yielding to her own overpowering desire. At last, at last it came; that sublime eruption deep within which discharged all turmoil, made her oblivious to all care, gave her blessed, wonderful release. When she lay quiet and utterly relaxed in his arms, he gave a laugh of triumph.
‘There, there, my good little hinny is quite subdued.’ He laughed again and kissed her lightly on her cheek. ‘My luscious little hypocrite. My Ginny. How easy and how pleasurable it is to tame you.’
With fear and loathing she submitted again to the skills of the housekeeper and again Charlie’s unshakeable faith in his most useful servant was fully vindicated. Ginny was completely well when a few months later the time came for him to accompany her on her first tour of the provinces. Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, Sheffield, Hull, all welcomed her with open arms.
In Newcastle, Charlie left her for the week and went to visit his sister. It was bittersweet to hear familiar accents again, and when she heard the wail of Northumberland pipes coming from a public house one night on her way to the theatre, the lump in her throat almost choked her. She longed to go to Annsdale Colliery to see them all but dared not. On the afternoon before her last performance there, she strolled down to the docks to see the late summer sun shining on ships and seagoing vessels of every description. She breathed deeply, smelling the fresh salty air, and listening to the cry of seagulls and the shouts and conversation of seamen and dockworkers.
‘Ginny? Is it you?’ The voice sounded uncertain.
She turned to face him. ‘John!’ Overwhelmed to see him, she threw herself into his arms.
‘I can’t believe it’s you. You look like a lady.’
‘And you look like a good honest lad. How long are you here for? Where’ve you been? Have you been home?’
He’d been to Gibraltar, Mombasa, India, lots of places, but the best of all was Cape Town, he told her, the most beautiful place on earth. She listened with rapt attention to a long account of his travels and the people he’d met, until he stopped and laughed at her round eyes and open mouth.
‘Well, you look as if you’re doing all right. How are the rest of them?’
The lids fell over her eyes and she turned away slightly. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been away over a year and a half. Nearly as long as you. A lot’s happened since you went to sea, John. I went to live in London, and now I’m on the stage. I sing in the music halls.’
‘I can’t believe it. But maybe I can. You always had a taste for adventure, our Ginny. If it hadn’t been for you, I might not have gone to sea. So how did you manage it?’
‘I didn’t. It was managed for me. I went to London looking for a job to get out of the road of me dad. Only the sort of job I got wasn’t the sort I expected.’ She gave him a brittle smile. ‘Charlie Parkinson got me into the music halls. I live with him, John.’
‘What, that brother-in-law of the manager that was the talk of the pit?’
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye.
‘You live with him? You’re married, then.’ He glanced at her hands and took in the thick wedding ring with evident relief, but she shook her head.
‘You mean you’re his whore? Oh, Ginny man, you’re not!’
The look of disgust in his eyes wounded her, and she moved away from him a little.
‘Well, what’s me mam say about it? And me father?’
‘Nothing, because they don’t know. They think I’m working as a housemaid. Everybody does. I daren’t tell them, John. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do except keep working the halls, and hope he’ll marry me.’
‘Leave him and come home with me. Let’s away and see me mam.’
‘I daren’t. Can you imagine what me father would do? He really would kill me. And I think I’m already landed with a bairn, John, and I want to keep it but I’m afraid of what everybody will say. I can’t even write to them because I’ve nothing good to say about myself, and the letters would be full of lies. I don’t know what else to do except try to get him to marry me. It might be all right then. Don’t say anything about me at home.’ She burst into tears. ‘Oh, John, you don’t know the half. I’m so ashamed.’
‘Oh, Ginny man.’ He pulled her towards him and let her cry for a while. ‘You look miserable even while you talk about marrying him.’
‘I am. But what else can I do? Me mam’ll be glad to see you, but don’t tell them about me, John. Don’t say anything.’
He went to see her act, watching her from the wings. ‘By, our Ginny, you were always a bit of a warm ’un, but,’ he laughed, ‘I don
’t know what word I’d use to describe your turn. It’s funny, though. A long way off singing pit songs, but you were funny even then.’
‘Did you like it, though?’
‘Aye, but I’d be careful who I took to see it.’ He smiled.
She got him a room in her hotel and the rest of the evening was spent more cheerfully in laughing and talking about old times.
John threw his arms round her and gave her an affectionate squeeze before he left her the following day. He got on the Durham train just as Charlie was getting off. She let him go, feeling comforted at his acceptance of her and his concern, but wretched at the thought that it might be years before she saw him again.
‘Who was that?’ demanded Charlie as she watched him go.
‘Somebody you’d call riff-raff, Charlie. He’s my brother. He’s a sailor.’
Ginny’s star was in the ascendant. After her successful tour and brilliant reviews, Charlie began to demand almost exorbitant fees for her appearances, and he got them. She was well aware of his displeasure at her pregnancy but no more mention had been made of enlisting the help of his housekeeper. Charlie seemed to be handling her with kid gloves now, trying to forestall another hysterical outburst and prevent her earning a reputation among theatre managers as temperamental and unreliable. That would slow the river of money flowing his way and might even dam it up altogether, she thought. She was beginning to read him like a book.
She agreed that she must work through the early months, because no engagements would be possible during the later ones. She must work until she began to show and then she could stop work and there would be time to be married. Exhausted from twice-nightly performances, she lay in bed at night happy enough for Charlie to take his pleasure with her, but a tired and passive partner herself. When she felt her baby quicken, he left her bed, but she never felt alone. She had her living child within her, and she already loved it.
During her last performance she bled a little. A few days afterwards she fancied her child had stopped moving, and later she knew it for sure. She wanted her mother and cried. Charlie took her to see a medical man who examined her, then told her to get dressed whilst he had a few words with her husband. Charlie kissed her on the way home.
A Sovereign for a Song Page 16