Clem smiled as he held a taper to the fire, then used it to ignite a cigarette. ‘Don’t have much choice with a sergeant-major for a father.’
Probyn cast a fond eye in his son’s direction. ‘It’ll do him no harm.’
Clem returned the look of warmth, though his eyes flickered suspiciously as he blew out the taper and laid it on the hearth, wondering over his father’s intentions.
Charlotte was wondering too, though she was not to be enlightened, for Probyn’s son and daughter seemed loath to leave them alone for the rest of the evening. Even when Augusta finally went to bed Clem stayed behind. On purpose?
Probyn was speculating over this too. Whatever the reason, the young man’s intrusion forbade him to ask his question of Charlotte and eventually she was compelled to leave.
Eager to be alone with her, Probyn went to fetch her hat, which lay on the counter in the front room. ‘I’ll walk you home.’
Bidding good night to Clem, Charlotte followed him, then both moved outside into the balmy evening.
The instant they were on the footpath Probyn wasted no time. ‘What I was saying before about remarrying…’
Immediately they had left, Clem had rushed to the front room to spy from the window. However, seeing them linger, he now put his ear to the door to try to catch what was said. But in the warm breeze the metal sign squeaked overhead, distorting his father’s words, much to his fury. Still awake, Gus too was straining to interpret the muffled voices, nibbling her lip in concern.
But their attempts were foiled as their father took Charlotte’s arm and moved off before finishing his question. ‘… Could I expect your approval?’
Charlotte felt her emotions torn. ‘Well, I do feel a certain responsibility towards Grace. As I said before, Probe, it would depend on the person you had in mind.’
Did she truly not realize what he was getting at? He paused to look her full in the face, making it as clear as he could. ‘The person I have in mind is a most upstanding, respectable woman of impeccable morals. I don’t have any qualm that Grace would approve. In fact, she thought the world of this certain person.’
Charlotte finally dared to mouth it. ‘You mean me?’
‘I don’t know anyone else Grace thought as much about.’
‘She thought the world of you.’ Charlotte smiled sadly.
‘Aye, well, I can’t marry meself, can I?’ he joked.
‘I’m very flattered by your offer, Probe.’
Turning away, his smile fading, he resumed his leisurely pace. ‘I’ll take it that means no, then?’
She hooked her arm through his. ‘It means nothing of the sort. I am very flattered. I do care a lot about you, Probe … though it’s only fair to tell you I could never feel the same as I did about George.’
‘I didn’t expect you to for one minute. I appreciate your honesty. I could never feel about anyone the way I felt for my dear wife. I’m not saying it would only be a marriage of convenience – far from it. I have immense admiration for you, Lottie. You were a good, loyal friend to Grace and the children love you. I’m not a man who needs an unpaid housekeeper, I can look after myself perfectly well—’
‘I know,’ she touched his hand in fondness, ‘I saw how you looked after Grace.’
‘—I just hate being without a female companion. It sounds daft, I know, me spending all those years away from home whilst I was in the army. I’d think about her all the time, imagining her going about the house singing and what not, and I can’t tell you how marvellous it was to come home to her, knowing her cheery face would always be there to greet me … but now it isn’t. I still expect her to come in the door, you know.’ He suddenly noticed that Charlotte’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to cast a shadow.’ He let go of her arm whilst she blew her nose, then continued as they walked, ‘What I’m trying to say is, I might have twenty years ahead of me and I can’t stand the thought of spending it alone. It just horrifies me. You do see?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She gave a last dab with her handkerchief and put it away. ‘You’re speaking to someone who knows all about loneliness, Probe. It wasn’t so bad when Mother was still alive, but now…’
He tightened his grip on the arm that linked his. ‘I’m really fond of you, Lottie.’
‘And I of you.’
‘Yet, you still seem hesitant.’ Probyn gave a sad smile.
‘Not at the thought of marrying you, dear. I’ll be quite happy to accept your proposal.’ She saw his mouth begin to widen in pleasure. ‘But you must ask the children first.’
Probyn was grinning widely now, not least at the thought of soon being able to rectify his sexual deficit. ‘It goes without saying that they’ll be as pleased as punch. My, I didn’t realize what a grand day it was going to be when I got up this morning!’
‘Nevertheless, they might consider it to be rushing things. I won’t consent without their permission.’
‘You can be assured, I’ll ask them,’ he said as they reached the main road.
With Charlotte’s home not too far away the rest of their journey took no longer than fifteen minutes. Prepared to take his leave of her he wore a hint of mischief.
‘Do I get a good night kiss?’
She presented her face, accepting his tender peck on her lips.
Smiling into her tiny emerald eyes, he pressed a final kiss on her cheek, waited until she closed the door on him, then retraced his steps with a happy smile, eager to relay her answer to his children.
But what he had considered to be a fait accompli turned out to be nothing of the sort, for, when he reached home, Augusta had come down to join Clem and both wore serious expressions that demanded an answer.
Apart from a quick clearance of throat there was little prevarication. ‘This might come as a bit of a surprise to you both but a pleasant one, I hope. Your Aunt Charlotte and I are hoping to be married.’
‘Told you!’ Clem spun to address his sister.
‘Oh, been talking about me, have you?’ Probyn donned a cryptic smile.
‘Yes, and we don’t think it’s right. Mother hasn’t been gone six months yet!’
‘You don’t have to tell me that, son,’ came the pacific reply. ‘I miss her too, you know. I’m not talking about marrying some stranger. Your mother loved Charlotte. Of course it won’t be the same sort of marriage your mother and I enjoyed – nobody could take her place – but I’m very fond of Charlotte and I thought you were too.’
‘We are!’ Clem’s temper rose. Now a grown man, he was no longer restrained by the threat of a beating. ‘We’re not angry at Charlotte, we’re angry at you. It’s too soon, Father!’
‘Before you dismiss this out of hand, consider your brothers and sisters. This would mean that we could all be together again.’
Clem’s face showed this was a pathetic excuse. ‘I’m saying nowt else, Father. You’ve heard my opinion.’
A dismayed Probyn wanted to retort that his son should think himself privileged to be allowed an opinion on what was essentially his father’s business; but instead he turned to his daughter, a note of pathos in his query. ‘What about you, Gus? Do you think I should wait?’
She nodded.
Spirits deflated, Probyn studied his son and daughter for a moment, before deciding further persuasion would be futile. Strange how fate had a knack of turning the tables. Now he knew exactly how his father had felt under the hail of accusation he had suffered on wanting to marry Mrs Carr, Probyn one of the worst objectors. His own mother had been dead much longer than six months yet he had condemned what he saw as his father’s callous disregard for her. Well, he had got his comeuppance now.
But that was by the by. It was all very well respecting his children’s wishes, but where could he turn now for bodily comfort? It had no bearing that he was forty-six years old and his sexual appetite was not as rampant as it once was, he desperately needed someone in his bed at night. He had hoped it could be Charlotte but that was not to be. And th
e worst thing about it all was that now he would have to go back and tell her.
* * *
Charlotte was disappointed to hear of Clem and Augusta’s objections, but was quick to understand their point. ‘It is rather soon, Probe. They’re still hurting.’
‘I’m certain the younger ones would back us,’ he told her.
‘No, don’t press the matter.’ She did not share his sense of urgency. ‘Maybe in another six months’ time…’
He nodded uneasily, knowing that his sexual frustration would not allow him to wait, and hoping that Charlotte would not hold him to the proposal.
Studying his pose, a look of recognition came into her tiny green eyes. ‘Of course, you might have changed your mind by then.’
‘Oh, no—’
‘I’d understand.’
‘Would you?’ He held her gaze. ‘Really, Lottie?’
Her cheeks turned pink, and she plucked awkwardly at the smocking on her bodice, but dared to broach the delicate subject. ‘I don’t live in a convent, Probe. I realized what you meant when you said you needed a female companion. You don’t just mean a dancing partner, do you?’
He was taken aback by her reference and merely shook his head.
Grace had confided to her friend years ago that Probyn was a man of lusty appetites. Charlotte had been unsure whether she could cope with this but had been willing to try for the sake of the children she held dear. But with the postponement of an engagement such misgivings were now irrelevant, and just to make sure he did not think that her understanding of this matter extended further than words, she made a firm addition. ‘If you’re hoping for something occurring between us before we’re married I must tell you that I couldn’t countenance that, so—’
‘Oh, I never even entertained the idea!’ He had, though. Even whilst not physically attracted to her, he had pictured a naked Charlotte and wondered what it would be like to engage his body with hers. There was no eroticism in the image.
‘If in a year you find somebody else you’d rather marry, somebody who Grace would approve of, then I don’t mind stepping aside.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘No, I shall honour my proposal, Charlotte. But until the children alter their view, I’m happy for us to remain just friends.’
* * *
Noble gestures were all very well, but they did not solve his immediate frustration. Even in possession of the funds, he had never been one to visit prostitutes.
Unexpectedly, the answer was to come through his work. His organizational skills required at a record office in the north-east, he initially bemoaned the fact of being sent there, anxious that it would keep him away from home for several days. But Clem and Augusta, pleased that it would mean getting him away from Aunt Charlotte, said they could manage. Hence, he finally went off to catch his train.
Always keen to inspect the fairer sex, his current frustration caused his eyes to linger more wistfully over breast and buttock today as he waited on the cold platform, knowing he was merely torturing himself but unable to stop. Even had he been able to tear his eyes away the thoughts would still be with him.
The train chugged in, he got on board and settled back with a newspaper as the engine lurched into motion again.
Once the last page had been read, though, there was still a long way ahead. He wriggled into a more reclining position, eyes half-closed, head lolling with the motion of the train.
‘Excuse me, could you just help me get my bag down? I can’t quite reach.’
Coming alert, he stood and helped the woman retrieve her bag.
‘Thanks, I just need to get something out of it then you can put it straight back, if you’d be so kind.’ Her voice held the slightly melodic accent of the north-east. ‘There we are! Why, thanks awfully.’ She handed back the bag, which he replaced on the luggage rack.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Returning the young woman’s smile, Probyn sank back into his seat, thinking what lovely dark eyes she had.
And then it came to him. The journey that a moment ago had seemed so irksome now assumed great portent. His memory jerked by the simple act of doing this woman a favour, he knew exactly where he could get what he needed without having to promise matrimony. Suddenly the rackety-rack of the carriage wheels seemed not so monotonous after all. Got-to-get-there! Got-to-get-there! Got to get there!
* * *
Having had ample time to plan his strategy during the journey, it was a different matter to put this into action, taking almost as much courage to knock on Eliza Crump’s door as to go into battle. With six sisters he had always known how to get on with women, but Eliza was very different from the well-brought-up Kilmaster girls. Such shamelessness would normally repulse him, and yet it was this very thing that lured him to her – at one point during his train journey he had been forced to place a newspaper on his lap to cover his embarrassment as his imaginings became all too vivid. And now here he was standing outside her door.
Even as he prepared to knock he felt it might be a mistake. She could be married again by now. But he would never know unless he asked. He lifted the iron door-knocker and rapped.
She was astonished but pleased to see him, and at first speechless.
‘Hello, Mrs Crump. If I’ve called at an inconvenient moment I can go—’
‘No, no, I’m just that surprised!’ Without his uniform the RSM did not look so imposing, just another overweight, middle-aged man in a shabby suit, and yet his gaze could still hypnotize. She could not tear her eyes away. ‘Why, Probyn Kilmaster, I never thought to see you again.’
Picturing himself running away from her clutches like a terrified virgin, he quickly chased away the image and explained that his work had brought him to the area. ‘I arrived this afternoon and once I’d settled into my lodgings I felt at a loose end. It’s funny being in a stranger’s house, isn’t it? You feel a bit awkward. So, I suddenly thought, why, Mrs Crump lives only a short train ride away, I’ll go out after tea and pay my respects. It is still Mrs Crump, by the way, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, it is.’ During his explanation a knowing smirk had come over her face. ‘So, you’ve come to see if I’ve any wardrobes want shifting, have you?’
He gave an awkward laugh.
‘You’d best come in then – and “Eliza” will do.’
Inside, she took his hat and showed him into the parlour. ‘How’s Grace these days?’
He was momentarily sombre. ‘She died six months ago.’
‘Oh, I’m really sorry.’ Eliza’s commiseration appeared genuine. ‘She was a nice lass.’
‘Yes, yes she was.’ Don’t keep talking about her, he urged Eliza silently, or I’ll never be able to go through with this. She detested you. Trying to block Grace from his mind, he injected his tone with brightness. ‘But let’s not dwell on sad things.’
‘No, let’s not.’ Crooning in sympathetic tone, Eliza came directly to him and bold as brass put her arms around his back and cupped his buttocks. ‘Let’s just get on with what you really came for.’
He looked startled as she pulled him against her.
‘We both know you didn’t come here just to pay your respects.’ Her black eyes were laughing.
Already aroused by her brazenness, he spoke huskily. ‘Your children … ?’
‘At their aunty’s. Don’t worry, they’re not likely to barge in on us – but just in case they do we’d better go somewhere more discreet.’ And she led him upstairs. He could not get there quickly enough, tearing off his clothes as he went.
There was no affection in their union, no spiritual soaring as there had been with Grace, it was just two animals mauling at one another, striving for satisfaction, neither caring about giving pleasure to the other, just raw gratification. The first desperate coupling was brief and explosive, but within minutes he was responding again to her urgent grasping – thrust and writhed and squirmed with her for almost an hour, became glued to her with sweat, fell away from her, laid there only long enoug
h to catch his breath, then seized hold again, each fresh liaison taking more and more effort until both were overcome with exhaustion and, finally sated, they reclaimed their individual forms.
He felt wonderful at first: worn out, depleted, but thoroughly rejuvenated.
Until she purred lasciviously, ‘I always knew you’d be a goer. You were wasted on that sick little wife of yours.’
He felt dirty then, disloyal, treacherous. ‘I’d better be going. Don’t want to miss my train.’ Abruptly, he rolled from the bed.
Eliza did not stop him but lay there watching him don each article of clothing, her inspection causing him to self-consciously suck in his paunch. Only when he was fully dressed and waiting to go did she rise and slip into her own clothes.
‘When can I expect the pleasure of Mr Kilmaster’s company again?’
‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to—’
‘Don’t play the hiley-ho with me!’ She chuckled knowingly as she fastened the last of her buttons. ‘You’ll be back for more.’
* * *
And, of course, he was, the very next night, and the one after that too, grinding himself into her as if there were no tomorrow – which there was not, at least not for them, for tomorrow he’d be going home. Maybe it was just as well; at his age he wouldn’t be able to maintain such virility. It had been wonderful, though – would serve to keep him going for a month or two, and with a bit of luck the record office might send him up here again in the not-too-distant future.
He was dressed and ready to go. ‘Well, I’ve really—’ He broke off, ending his sentence with a rolling hand movement.
‘Enjoyed yourself?’ Eliza looked amused. ‘Yes, I got the impression you had. It’s all right, you know; you can say it.’
‘I don’t want you to think I’m just here for that,’ grinned Probyn, for Eliza was an amusing companion too, even if her humour was a little on the bawdy side. And she was a good listener. During intervals between their rabid lovemaking she had coaxed his troubles from him and he had poured them out, telling her of his aim to bring his family back together again. ‘You have got other attributes.’
A Different Kind of Love Page 36