To Move the World (Power of the Matchmaker)

by Regina Sirois

  “He wouldn’t want me to stay at another man’s flat.” The words came out hard and hollow, like an automaton. “That would look horrible.” I glared at him for a terrible second before dropping my accusing eyes.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I was only trying to help.”

  “I wish you’d stop,” I whispered vehemently enough to make a woman stare.

  “Of course,” he answered, his voice so steady and sad my heart caved in like an abandoned mine. He set my bag at my feet and very gently put my ticket in my hand. “It doesn’t leave for an hour. But I’ll give you some time alone. I know you love him very much.”

  I didn’t look up to see where he went. I sat stiff as an iron poker, only allowing my thoughts to move. They ran back to childhood when Alan arrived at the farm, silent and utterly lost. Back to the first time I saw him play cricket with William and how he smiled so beautifully. I followed the tangled memories to Sunday dinners and moments when he’d asked me what I learned at school and how he shoveled the anthracite into the boiler before I woke up every morning. As I gathered the remembrances I saw there were so many more than I realised. I was in the middle of reliving a shearing day when Alan had threatened to paint X’s on William and me along with the sheep. I think it was the first flirting he’d ever done with me, though at the time I thought he was just being playful and brotherly.

  “Eve?”

  I startled at her familiar voice, turned to see red lips parted in pity.

  “Theo!” I rose up and she pulled her arms tight around me. “I’m so sorry,” I told her. “It wasn’t your father’s fault.”

  “Stop. It’s forgotten. My father gave me a five pound note to give you. No arguments,” she insisted as soon as I opened my mouth. “Alan is going to be fine.” She pushed the note into my hand. I’d never held so much in all my life.

  My face was dead with exhaustion, unable to move anything but my lips. “How did you know?”

  “Jonathon came and told me just now. I can go with you. He’s bought me a ticket already. He said to tell you he’d be in the sleeping car should you need him.”

  I shook my head as if to loosen all thoughts of Jonathon and cast them away. He had throngs of people to love him. Alan had only me. Later, when I was rapturously happy and married I would make all the polite apologies. And thank yous. Because summoning Theo was the kindest gift he could have given me. For the seven long hours of travel we talked of everything we’d missed in the past weeks. Apparently Marion kept writing even when she told him she had no interest in joining his harem. He found that the best line he’d ever got from a girl. Jonathon had a dinner tray sent to us. I tried to be too worried to eat, but it simply tasted too good to waste. As the long twilight turned to dim stars, I thought of Alan roaming the hills at night with the sheep.

  “Are we old enough to love, Theo?” I stared out the window, only seeing her expression in the shining reflection of the glass. “What if it is all only calf love and I shouldn’t be anyone’s wife?”

  “A baby is old enough to love someone,” she answered primly. “I don’t know when one is old enough for romantic love, but I suppose when you feel it you’re old enough for it.”

  “But I started to love Alan years ago, before I even realised. I certainly wasn’t old enough to marry him.”

  “And you didn’t. Because you didn’t feel old enough for it. When you feel you can marry him, I am sure you’ll be ready. And he will be fine,” she promised. “There’s time for all that.” She set down her Lady’s Day magazine and studied me until I nodded in agreement. “Now take a moment to be thrilled with me that we are going to stay at a flat owned by a Doran tonight. I plan to poke about in each and every cranny and cupboard.”

  “But we can’t!”

  “He’ll never know and if I filch something for a souvenir I’ll make sure it is nothing he will notice missing.”

  “Don’t tease. I’m not up to it,” I scolded. I imagined Jonathon in the sleeping car, his long body stretched out on the tiny cot. “He’s been so kind and I’ve no way to thank him. The least I can do is not rifle through his private things.”

  Theo gave an audible pout. “That takes all the fun out of it, but since Alan is in hospital and you’re distraught I’ll behave.”

  When the train arrived outside of London, Jonathon met us on the platform. We were nearly the last train in and the crowds looked thin and tired. “I’ll get a car to take you to my flat.” He placed a brass key in Theo’s hand and I watched her face to see what the touch of his fingers in her palm did to her. I registered no change at all. “I’m in number 14. Don’t forget: 14. Let yourselves in and help yourselves to anything. I’ll come with a car first off and we’ll drive to Woolwich at the crack of dawn if you like.” It was the first time he’d looked at me since my outburst. I’m grateful the dark night helped hide the shame in my eyes.

  He hailed a cab, gave the man an address, and helped Theo into the car. He held out his hand for me, but when I hesitated he stepped back with a smile and only closed the door for me after I’d settled. “Goodnight,” he said to both of us.

  I clutched my hideous bag at my side and spared him a tiny wave, unable to help the weak smile that crossed my face when I met his eyes.

  Even that felt like cheating.

  CHAPTER 8

  The car dropped us off in front of a tall building on a quiet, clean street. Theo gave a quick “thank you” to the driver and we slid out into the warm, night air. The city is much hotter than the countryside. I suspect it is all the cement. There was no doorman which surprised me, but perhaps he goes home at midnight. We took the lift to the first floor and found our way down a red-carpeted hall to number 14.

  “You look exhausted,” she said to me as she unbolted the door. “You can fall straight to bed and we’ll be with Alan just after you wake.” The door opened to reveal furniture that was beautifully made, but not at all ornate. The steel-framed mirror in the entry and tapered legs of the wood tables revealed Jonathon to be more of a modernist than I’d supposed.

  “Eve, it smells like man!” Theo exclaimed, rushing forward. “Do you think he entertains ladies here?” She looked horrified and thrilled at the suggestion. “People are so free in the cities.”

  “Free, not amoral. I’m sure he’s as much a gentleman here as he is at home.” Still, I scanned the room for evidence of feminine items: a forgotten scarf or abandoned tube of lipstick. I saw only portfolios filled with papers and a dish of pistachios beside a reading lamp. Everything looked recently touched, as though he had just left the room and would return any moment. But she was right about the smell. Cologne mingled with other scents—new books and newspapers and perhaps brandy— and made a distracting fragrance even though it was faint.

  “Put on your gown and get straight to bed,” Theo ordered, sliding open a drawer of Jonathon’s desk and surveying the contents.

  “Stop, Theo. You promised,” I reminded her. She closed it with a mischievous smile and then I thought of my packed clothes with a dreadful jolt. “Theo, I didn’t bring my gown. I was rushing for clothes and entirely forgot about sleeping.”

  “Of course you did,” she said sympathetically. “I’m sure there’s something here. Or you could sleep in your underclothes.”

  She walked to the bedroom, completely unaware of my stricken face. I felt a coldness on my cheeks and realised the blood had quite left them. I could neither lie down in Jonathon’s bed in my underclothes, nor sleep in one of his garments. My breath hurried over my lips, weak and panicked. “Theo, may I use your gown, please?” I asked.

  “There’s a delicious smoking jacket in here. It would do the trick nicely and feels like heaven.” She came back holding up a burgundy wrap made of silk that looked like a souvenir from India. It was the same colour as my Corona.

  “You wear it. I’ll borrow yours. Please. I’m so tired.” She agreed to that, mistaking my misery for weariness. I changed in the bathroom, refusing to look in the mir
ror, bothered I could smell him even stronger in there. The towels were so soft and white I pushed my face into one and nearly fell asleep until Theo knocked. I washed my teeth with Jonathon’s paste and my finger, and found I hadn’t the strength to move any longer.

  “Get into bed,” Theo said as she started wiping cosmetics from her face, the silk robe hugging her neck. “I’ll join you in a moment.”

  I started to say I would sleep on the couch but it was a modern affair, more of a hard bench with metal arms. I steeled myself and stepped into the bedroom. There was carpet in there, so deep my toes nearly disappeared in it. I padded silently to his bed, telling myself not to think of it that way. It was simply a bed in an inn and I was a tired traveler. Nothing more. I pulled back the white coverlet and sighed as I sat on the crisp sheets. I moved as little as possible, lowering myself into the white folds silently, holding my breath, as if that would make me less there. When my head met the feather pillow in the dark and sunk deep into its softness I let out the breath I’d been keeping. Pulling my nose away from the pillowcase didn’t help. I could still smell him. I pictured Alan with bloody bandages, tried to block out the scent of Jonathon’s skin, and laid in the lonely dark, tears leaking, until Theo thumped herself down beside me and sleep took me.

  Theo tried to rouse me early, but my head pounded and my eyes refused to open. “Not yet,” I begged her and burrowed into the covers. It wasn’t until Jonathon knocked on the front door that I jolted upright. “What time is it?” A clock beside the bed read 7:18. “Don’t let him in, Theo,” I insisted, jumping up and tearing across the room for my bag. “He mustn’t know I slept in. How did I?”

  Then I realised his thick curtains blocked out all light. At home the morning comes gradually and persistently, spilling her brightness over my sleeping face. Here, the room stayed dark as midnight until you let the day in. I grabbed my bag and ran for the bathroom, passing Theo who was already up and wearing a wonderful red dress. She looked like she’d been awake for hours. I threw her a look that mixed hatred with admiration and slammed the bathroom door.

  I heard Jonathon knock again. “I don’t mean to bother. I only hoped I might take a clean shirt,” he called through the front door.

  I ripped Theo’s gown off and heard her smiling voice as she greeted him and let him in, thanking him for lodging us and telling him I’d be right out. My heart pounded as I straightened my chemise over my chest, thinking of him passing the rumpled bed on his way to his wardrobe to get his shirt. My pillow—no, his pillow—still had the imprint of my head. I shivered and pulled out my lavender dress. I think it too young and frilly, but I’ve always had the feeling Alan likes it. It took cold water on my face to straighten my thoughts and line them up for the morning ahead with Alan. He would need me in my best state. I prodded Theo’s hairbrush through my strands, trying to restore a few of the curls I’d put in for tea yesterday. Her lipstick looked quite nice on me and I blent a bit of into my cheeks just to take the pallor off. She hadn’t left out any perfume so I rubbed a bit of soap onto my neck and arms. I worried I smelled of train and fear.

  Jonathon and Theo talked easily together. For a distressing moment I wondered if he had changed his shirt right in front of her, his sleeveless undershirt giving her a good look at his shoulders. But certainly not…

  “Good morning,” I called out to both of them as I threw open the door with a desperate smile. They were both fully dressed, and startled at my sudden entrance and strange expression.

  “Good morning. The car is waiting downstairs.” I don’t know why his voice had to say everything in one gentle tone, like the echo of a church bell on a summer day.

  “Just let me gather my things,” I told him.

  “You could leave them here and we’ll return—”

  “No! No. I would like to stay in Woolwich with Alan. He must be looked after and I don’t intend to leave his side. How quickly can we be there?” I asked as I disappeared into the bedroom, snatching up my shoes and quickly straightening the covers. I made sure to fluff the pillow and return it its proper place as if I’d never been there.

  “Breakfast?” Theo asked.

  “No. I couldn’t.” I reappeared with my bag and headed straight for the door. “Shall we?”

  In the lift I stood in the far back corner, ignoring the quizzical looks Theo gave me and in the car Jonathon sat in the front with the driver, allowing Theo and I to whisper without being overheard.

  “You were a bit rude to the brother of my suitor,” she murmured between tight lips as soon as Jonathon started giving instructions to the driver.

  “I didn’t know you still considered Marion a proper suitor,” I retorted.

  “Well, you could at least be grateful, just in case he ends up my brother.” She smiled in a playful way but my lips stopped working. My eyes flicked from Jonathon to Theo, realising she had far more claim to him. For me, he was simply a curious and kind neighbor. Perhaps more a philanthropist. I groaned and put my head against the window.

  “Are you carsick?” she asked, scooting away.

  I shook my head. “Only worried about Alan.”

  The driver steered us round the eastern edge of the city, past the Tower of London and Petticoat Lane that looked like our market day magnified by a hundred. All of the names I’d heard since childhood like Whitechapel and Isle of Dogs rolled past us as bricks and blurs. As the car raced along I studied the women far more than the landmarks. They appeared in lovely contrast amongst the crowds of men, clipping along the pavement with a very determined air. Their skirts, I noticed, were much straighter than mine, and their heeled shoes much higher. They looked so smart in their tailored black or grey suits. “How well they all look,” I said quietly as I watched three women step into a business together. Perhaps they were all professional secretaries.

  “Don’t they though?” Theo sighed.

  Jonathon turned his head and studied my dress. “You will look perfect for Alan.”

  I know he meant it kindly, but it felt an insult, as if I were only suitable for farm boys. I stared out the window, wishing like mad for a fitted black skirt and patent leather belt. Even Theo’s red dress looked slightly ridiculous next to the city women, but not nearly as silly as mine. I looked like a schoolgirl on holiday in town. The thought made my cheeks burn. I remembered Alan speaking to me of a yellow dress. Perhaps in Woolwich the styles shy away from such dark shades and I wouldn’t be so conspicuous. I suddenly wanted more than anything to buy a yellow frock before he saw me. I promised myself I would use the money Mr. Weller gave me to get a new dress that very afternoon. By the time Alan was well enough to walk about I would look nothing like a backward dale farmer.

  The city sprawled so interminably I never realised when we left London or entered Woolwich. The car pulled to a stop before a large, brown brick building, its wings protruding from a central tower. Nurses in white caps stood outside smoking in small groups and the windows loomed over me like watching faces. My hands trembled as I wondered which thin pane hid Alan. I opened my car door, not realising that Jonathon, who had already exited, was trying to do it for me and I clipped him fast in the shin. He wobbled backward, trying not to wince.

  “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” In truth, I was looking so hard for Alan’s window I hadn’t thought to give one glance out my own.

  “No mind. I’ll take your bag to the front desk if you like.”

  “Is it bleeding?” I asked, ignoring his offer.

  “If it is I’m in the right place.” He motioned toward the nurses who were taking in the scene.

  “I’m sure they would all give their left arm to take care of him,” Theo said, exiting behind me. Then she turned to me. “Why are you still here? Go!”

  “Of course.” My lip quivered and I tried to straighten my clothes. The hasty packing in my small bag had done them no favors. Even my girdle had wrinkled, leaving an odd ridge across my left bosom. “I don’t know what to do.” I looked up at b
oth of them, chagrined that after all my rush and hurry I wanted nothing more desperately than more time to compose myself.

  Jonathon took my arm, guiding me forward. “We’ll find out his room and you will stop worrying. He will be deliriously happy to see you. He’ll get well twice as fast now.”

  The nurses watched us as we entered. Their smoke followed us into the lobby. “How do you know?”

  “I know,” was all he replied without looking down at me. A uniformed woman sat behind a desk with a myriad of telephones and typewriters. Her brunette head bent over papers she signed and stacked at top speed. Jonathon cleared his throat and asked for Alan’s location and if he might have visitors. She told us breakfast just ended and he should be free until doctors made their rounds.

  “Is he well?” I asked with stammering lips.

  She frowned until she looked at my face and then her hurried voice grew softer. “I haven’t his charts here. He is certainly in the best hands.”

  “Shall we wait for you up here?” Jonathon asked, motioning to Theo at his side.

  “I think that best? I don’t really know.” Everything I said sounded like a question.

  “Go,” Theo repeated.

  The woman said the lifts were only for patients so I took the stairs down, my high heels echoing like gunshots in the stairwell. Alan wasn’t in a room, but a basement recovery ward. It was wide, partitioned by curtains that separated the men in the beds. I gave Alan’s name to a blonde nurse in her twenties and she led the way. Her cheerful voice bounced across the room to different men as we went. “This pretty one isn’t for you, Jeffries. You’ll have to eat your heart out.”

  “You know I only have eyes for you,” the man named Jeffries answered in a hoarse voice.

  She didn’t even turn her head to look but her voice rang out, “Stallon, you tipped your water again. Are you just trying to see more of me?”

  “Always, nurse,” the man answered.

  “Now then, Canavan, I’ve a perfect doll here to see you.” We’d reached the end of the room and she tugged back a curtain. I wish she had entered gently because I hadn’t a chance to change my expression from trepidation when Alan suddenly appeared. He had no shirt on and his chest was wrapped in white bandages. His face frightened me most, purpled with bruises.