by John Boyne
‘No matter, no matter,’ Hawley said, mopping up the mess with a few napkins. ‘It’s only a little wine.’
‘On the good tablecloth, though,’ she moaned. ‘Oh, you are useless. Good for absolutely nothing.’
He sighed and threw the soaking napkins into the washing basket, returning to the table and wondering how much longer they would all have to sit there, pretending to be interested in each other’s lives. ‘Shall I make coffee?’ he asked again.
‘Oh, you and your coffee,’ Cora cried, exasperated. ‘Anyone would think you had shares in a plantation. Fine, then. Make your coffee if it means that much to you.’
He stood up and put the water on, aware of the uncomfortable silence which had greeted her loud remarks. Looking back into the living room, he could see Alec leaning down and whispering something in Ethel’s ear. She looked back at him fearfully.
‘Ethel,’ Cora said, observing their private conversation and remembering how the young woman had defended her husband a few minutes before, an unforgivable sin, ‘I was so happy you were able to come tonight.’
‘I was pleased to be invited,’ she replied.
Cora smiled. ‘Well, it would have been awful to have been one person short. And I couldn’t think of any single women. You’re the only adult woman I know who isn’t married or engaged.’ Ethel nodded and tried not to look insulted. ‘You must be on the lookout though, surely?’
‘I . . . I hadn’t thought about it,’ she said quietly.
‘Margaret, Louise, don’t you know any single men who might be looking for a wife? We can’t allow the poor girl to remain a spinster all her life, now can we? Margaret, didn’t you mention that you had an under-gardener who was widowed with a small child?’
‘Yes indeed,’ said Mrs Nash, nodding happily, remembering. ‘Dempsey is his name. Not sure what his first name is, he’s always just been Dempsey to us. I mean, he’s pretty old, about fifty, but his daughter’s only an infant. He certainly needs someone to take care of his house and look after the child. Should I arrange an introduction?’
‘No!’ Ethel snapped, wishing that Hawley would return soon with the coffee. Her wish was answered, for he came back into the room at that moment. ‘No, please don’t bother,’ she added in a more polite tone. ‘I’m perfectly fine as I am.’
‘What’s this?’ Hawley asked.
‘Margaret’s going to arrange a meeting between Ethel and one of her under-gardeners. The man might be in need of a wife.’
‘I really couldn’t,’ said Ethel.
‘Too old for you?’ Alec asked with a smile.
‘Really, Cora,’ Hawley said, frowning. ‘I don’t think this is suitable at all.’
‘Marriage, my dear,’ Cora said quietly, leaning across and placing her hand on top of Ethel’s tiny one, ‘is a blessing. If you only knew how happy my dear Hawley and I have been these past fifteen years, then you would hope for nothing else. No, it’s arranged,’ she said, taking her hand back. ‘We’ll set it up.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Ethel said in a firm voice. ‘Really, Mrs Crippen. I absolutely cannot.’
‘I believe she has a sweetheart,’ said Louise Smythson, watching her carefully and breaking into a smile. ‘I believe the poor girl has a hidden romance that she’s not telling us about.’
‘Do you?’ Cora asked, surprised. ‘I shouldn’t imagine so, Louise. But do you really?’
‘No,’ said Ethel.
‘Cora!’ said Hawley.
‘Oh, Hawley, we’re just teasing. Look at her. She’s gone quite red. Her heart has been given to someone. But he doesn’t know it. It’s not Alec, is it? I wouldn’t bother, my dear. He’s the “love them and leave them” sort. You’ll never find a husband from the likes of him.’
‘Will you excuse me a moment?’ Ethel asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin and standing up.
‘It’s just upstairs. Room on the left,’ Cora said, grinning as she left, humiliated. That’ll teach her to defend my husband, she thought. Horrid little creature!
Ethel stood in the bathroom, weeping quietly and trying to stop her tears before her eyes and cheeks grew too red. Her feelings for Hawley had grown without her even realizing it. She had never intended to fall in love with him; from the start she had seen him as more of a father figure than a lover, to replace the father she had never known. He had died when she was just a baby and her mother, a violent drunk of a woman, had inflicted the scar above her lip when she punched her in the face as a child when wearing a sharp ring. Like Jezebel Crippen, she had claimed to be a religious woman, and had brought her daughter up to fear God, but her actions stood in stark contrast to her words. As an adult, Ethel had never looked for love, never considered it much, until the kindness of Hawley Crippen had overtaken her. And working together, side by side, had provided her with a new sense of security and happiness. When he was cheerful at work, she found herself happy throughout the day. But sometimes he arrived in one of his black moods, and on such occasions he was impenetrable, even a little scary in his manner towards her. She knew one thing for sure: that Cora Crippen was a heartless, evil, nasty, manipulative bitch. And a perceptive one. Because she was right, of course. Her heart did belong to someone. But she could hardly announce her love for Hawley in the middle of his wedding anniversary dinner. She pulled herself together and resolved to return to the living room for no longer than another twenty minutes, when she would make her excuses and go home alone. And then she would never return to this house while Cora Crippen still lived in it.
She opened the door and jumped, startled, for blocking her way to the stairs was Alec Heath.
‘Hello,’ he said, winking at her.
‘Mr Heath,’ she said, surprised to see him there, standing so close to the bathroom door.
‘What’s your hurry?’ he asked. ‘You’re not going back downstairs, are you?’
‘For a little while,’ she said. ‘It’s been a lovely evening, hasn’t it?’
‘Don’t try to fool me. She hates you, and you probably can’t stand her either. It’s not worth your while.’
Ethel frowned. He was right, of course, and she would love to have admitted that, but she couldn’t. He was crowding her now too and she hoped he would get out of the way.
‘For what it’s worth,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t pay any attention to Cora. She’s all right really, but she can be a right bitch when she wants to be.’
‘I’m sure I—’
‘But she was right about one thing,’ he continued, turning now so that she was pressed against the wall. ‘You shouldn’t be on your own like this. You’re a pretty thing, you know. Even with that scar.’ He reached forward and his thick fingers traced a line along it, while she shivered nervously, unable to break free from him.
‘Mr Heath, please,’ she begged.
‘Ssh,’ he whispered. ‘Just enjoy it.’ His right hand moved from her scar down to her neck and he slowly ran his finger along the skin, while his left stretched down towards her breasts.
She struggled against him. ‘Get off me,’ she cried. ‘Please, Mr Heath, get off me.’
‘Just shut up for a minute,’ he hissed and pressed himself against her. She could feel him growing excited and looked at the stairs, wondering what would happen if she simply launched herself down there, whether she would even survive the fall. He relented for a moment, however, stepping back to adjust his trousers, and in the moment where there was a gap between them, just as she was ready to run, Hawley appeared on the stairs below and looked up at them in surprise.
‘Ethel,’ he said. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Fine, Hawley,’ she said, pulling herself together and struggling free of Alec Heath as she made her way nervously downstairs.
Alec’s lip curled in anger as she walked away. ‘Ethel, come back. Let’s finish our conversation,’ he said.
‘No thank you, Mr Heath,’ she shouted without turning around.
Hawley stared up at him, won
dering what had taken place, but the younger man, unimpressed, ignored him.
‘Lovely to have met you,’ she called up to him. ‘Hawley,’ she whispered in a quieter voice. ‘I need to leave now.’
‘But Ethel, we—’
‘Hawley, I’m going,’ she insisted.
They stared at each other for a moment and he wished he could take her hand and they could both run as fast as their legs could carry them away from 39 Hilldrop Crescent. ‘Of course,’ he said, nodding. ‘I do apologize. I’m so very sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said, taking her coat off the stand. ‘Please say goodbye to the others for me. And thank you for a lovely evening.’
‘Ethel, what can I say to you?’
‘Say nothing, Hawley. I must go.’
He leaned forward, wanting to get all his pain off his chest, but Alec was walking down to the hallway and he stopped in front of them, not allowing them a moment’s privacy. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at work,’ he muttered as she opened the door and disappeared through it, closing it quickly behind her, leaving Dr Crippen alone and shaking with fury and hatred.
The shop had been particularly quiet for a Monday, traditionally their busiest day of the week. Hawley had spent the morning going through the accounts with Mr Munyon who, he believed, was not long for this world. His humpbacked figure had become even frailer in recent times and he seemed to be having difficulty with even the simplest arithmetic. Although he visited his shop only twice a week now—on Monday mornings and Friday evenings—Hawley liked to keep the old man informed of even the most minor matters that took place. This he did out of respect for him. Once his faculties began to slow down, it was only a matter of time before the rest of him did, and as a doctor he wanted to prevent that happening.
‘Takings are up, Crippen,’ Mr Munyon said, running a bony finger along a list of figures.
‘No, sir. Takings are down,’ he replied. ‘Not by much, though. And today’s been a busy day.’
‘Hmm,’ he grunted, irritated that he couldn’t tell the difference any more. ‘And how’s the new girl working out? Any use, is she?’
‘New girl?’ Hawley asked, confused. ‘But we haven’t hired a new girl.’
‘Her out there,’ the old man said, lifting his stick and waving it in the general direction of Ethel, who was serving a customer at the counter.
‘You mean Ethel?’ Hawley asked. ‘Miss LeNeve, I should say. Why, she’s not new, sir. She’s worked here for two and a half years.’
‘When you’re eighty-seven years old and have spent sixty-two years of them building a business, that will seem pretty new to you,’ Mr Munyon retorted, squinting at her but pleased that he’d come up with a good excuse for his forgetfulness.
‘Quite,’ said Hawley.
Mr Munyon stood up and gathered his things together while Hawley put the ledger and bank books away. ‘What happened to your eye?’ he asked after a moment.
‘What’s that?’
‘Your eye, Crippen. What happened to it?’
Hawley placed a finger over the deep cut above his eyebrow and touched it tentatively. ‘It’s the silliest thing,’ he said. ‘I got up in the middle of the night and wasn’t watching where I was going. Before I knew it, I was walking into the door. Cut myself pretty badly.’
Munyon nodded. ‘You’re always having accidents, Crippen,’ he said. ‘Never known a man like you for it. Every week it seems you have a new cut or bruise. You want to pay more attention to the world around you. I’m half blind but I don’t seem to walk into as many things as you do.’
Ethel glanced around as they passed her on the way out, and she wished her employer a polite ‘Good afternoon.’ She said nothing to Hawley when he returned and didn’t even look up at him; he wondered whether he had done something to offend her. She had been quiet with him from the start of the day, answering him whenever he spoke to her but never beginning a conversation herself. He racked his brains for anything he might have said to upset her, but he could think of nothing. It had been over a month since the disastrous wedding anniversary party, and since then relations between them had been awkward. So much affection had grown between them that it had become difficult for them to approach each other simply as friends. If only he wasn’t married to Cora, he felt he could say something to her about the feelings he had developed for her, feelings that he was convinced were reciprocated, but he was married and they both knew that, and he would not insult her by suggesting anything immoral while that state remained.
He waited until the end of the day when the shop was empty and the door was locked before attempting to engage her in conversation again. ‘A busy Monday,’ he began, employing small talk. ‘This week might be busier than last.’ He looked across at her, but she merely nodded, saying nothing. He sighed. ‘Ethel?’ he asked.
She turned to look at him. ‘Yes, Hawley?’
‘I said this week might be—’
‘Yes, I heard you. I’m sorry, I was lost in thought. I think it might be, yes.’
‘You’re angry about something.’
‘What?’
‘Ethel, you’re angry. You’ve hardly said two words to me today. What’s the matter? Is it something I’ve done? Something I’ve said?’
She laughed it off. ‘Of course not, don’t be ridiculous. What could you have done?’
‘I don’t know; that’s why I’m asking.’
‘It’s nothing, Hawley. Don’t mind me. I’m just preoccupied.’
He nodded and let it go for now, but finally he could bear the silence no longer and went around the counter to stand in front of her. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘What is it?’
‘Hawley, I—’
‘Ethel, I consider us friends. If there is something annoying or upsetting you, I would consider it hurtful if you felt you could not confide in me. Is there some problem in your home life that you wish to talk about?’
‘It’s not my home life I’m worried about,’ she said finally, unable to look at him.
‘Not yours?’ he asked, confused. ‘Whose then?’
‘Whose do you think? Yours, Hawley. It’s you I’m concerned for.’
He laughed. ‘Me?’ he said, surprised. ‘But why, for heaven’s sake? Why do you need to be concerned about me?’
She thought about it and looked down, closing her eyes for a moment, before looking him directly in the eyes. ‘Hawley, a moment ago you said that you considered us friends.’
‘And I do.’
‘Of course I do too. And you said that if there was a problem you would want me to tell you about it. Well, I feel the same way towards you.’ He stared at her, unable to decipher her meaning. ‘Hawley,’ she said finally. ‘What happened to your face?’
His heart skipped a beat and he looked away, biting his lip. This was not a subject he wanted to talk about. ‘My face?’ he asked. ‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’
‘I’m talking about your eye, Hawley. No, don’t walk away from me,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘I want you to tell me. You have a deep cut over your eye. It looks terribly painful. I’m surprised you didn’t need stitches.’
‘I am a doctor, Ethel.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It’s the silliest thing. I woke in the night and—’
‘No,’ Ethel said firmly. ‘I heard you say that to Mr Munyon earlier, and I’m sorry but I simply do not believe you. It’s possible for someone to walk into a door once in a blue moon but not as often as you do. You are constantly coming in to work covered in scars. You say you’ve walked into doors or fallen downstairs. You’ve opened bottles of wine and had the cork fly out into your eye. You’ve been hit by hansom cabs and ended up with so many bruises that you can barely walk. Now, either you are the most accident-prone man in England or there is more to this story than meets the eye. And I want to know what it is. I am not Mr Munyon and I want the truth.’
Hawley licked his lips. He could see the concern in her eyes and he loved
her for it. ‘Really,’ he said finally. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you. I’m just clumsy.’
‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ she said, determined to say what she believed. ‘She does this to you.’
‘She? Who?’
‘Your wife, Hawley. That harridan you’re married to.’
‘Ethel, I—’
‘I’m sorry, Hawley. I hate to say such things or use such words, but there are no others for it. I’ve seen the way she treats you. I’ve heard the way she speaks to you. And I do not believe that it ends at that. She beats you, doesn’t she? She treats you no better than she would treat a dog in the street, and you sit back and take it.’
‘Ethel, it’s not like that. She gets upset, she—’
‘Upset?’ she cried, growing upset herself now. ‘I’m sure you get upset, but you don’t beat her black and blue, do you?’
‘Of course not. I’ve never laid a finger on Cora in anger.’
‘That’s because you are a gentleman.’
‘It’s because I’m afraid,’ he shouted, causing her to take a step back. He swallowed and felt the tears start to form. ‘I’m afraid of her, Ethel,’ he said. ‘Does that make me sound weak? Maybe it does. Does it make me sound like half a man? Perhaps I am. She has such mood swings, you wouldn’t believe it. I wake in the morning and the first thing I think is, what kind of mood will she be in today? We sit together in the evening, listening to music on the phonograph, and I’m afraid to make a comment, to say anything about anything, because no matter what I say she’ll contradict me and pick a fight. It seems to me that all she ever wants to do is fight. That it’s the only way she can have a relationship with me at all. By reducing me to nothing.’
‘That’s because she is nothing,’ said Ethel fiercely. ‘Because she has nothing in her own life. This nonsense about her being a singer. It’s never going to come to anything. You know it, I know it, and she knows it. She’s so frustrated with her own life that she takes it out on you. You’re the easiest target. Because you’re kind. And you’re gentle. And you’re a man of peace. You’re everything that she is not.’