Pulling her into his arms, Hugh held her tightly to him as if he didn't want to ever let her go. The top of her head nestled just under his chin. "If only you'd leave him and come to me."
Eleanor stiffened. The moment passing, her safety net had developed a huge hole. "Hugh, divorce is still such a social anathema and exacts a high price. Besides, however would we live? Winston would never forgive us. He'd destroy you, hound you and ruin your reputation. He'd never give me up. His pride alone would never allow him to. No my darling, this is my mess." She untangled his arms from around her waist, stepping away as colour flooded her cheeks.
"But--" he floundered, dropping his arms by his sides. Defeat showed in his face.
Eleanor took control. "Hugh, listen to me. I will go to England. I won't tell Winston I'm expecting again and I expect you not to tell him either. I'll go alone and leave the girls with their nanny, have the baby and then return. At least I'll have good nursing care as you've just said and a doctor on hand if things go amiss. This way, you'll not have to worry."
Eleanor's mind was made up. She had known for years Hugh's true feelings for her. He was a darling man, and she knew he would care for her as best he could, given his means; but he was only a doctor, living on a bachelor doctor's salary with a modest income from his late father's estate. Eleanor knew Winston would certainly destroy them both if she left him. She was not prepared to put Hugh's life, her own and her daughters' lives at risk. She would return to England, have the child and return at her leisure.
"I must go home, Hugh. Please give me a tonic or something I can show Winston. A medication from you will settle his temper and prove that I needed a doctor's attention."
Chapter 4
A Voyage Home
"Well, what do you think?" Diana asked Steve, once he had finished the first pages of the diary. "Do you think there'll be a story to tell? I certainly do."
Steve nodded his head. "She's certainly a devious woman. How she'll get away with going to England and not letting on to Sir Winston that she's pregnant will be interesting."
"Yes. What's amazing is the attitude they still had back then. And we're talking nearly the swinging sixties and all that. Oh, catch the waitress for some drinks will you please?"
Steve signalled to a sarong-clad woman who glided over to where they sat in a corner of the downstairs veranda. As she approached them, Di realised she was older close up than she had first thought.
"A fresh lime juice please and a Tiger beer for my husband."
The woman laughed. "Yes mem, but I am not a waitress. I'll make sure the bar staff receive your order."
Diana was instantly apologetic and said so.
"It is quite all right. I am often asked for drinks and things. I work in the hotel office. My name is Mira."
"Well, I am sorry, Mira. You must enjoy working here in such a beautiful place. How long have you worked here?"
"It is nice and I have worked here for forty years. Soon I shall retire."
"Forty years? That's amazing!"
"Yes. If you'll excuse me, I'll find a waiter for you."
They waited until she was out of earshot before Diana exclaimed, "Whoops! She'd make a pretty old waitress. Most of them here are in their twenties. She only looked about forty from a distance. Mind you, wasn't she pretty? She had a lovely fragile and graceful air about her which only certain Asian women seem to have."
"Yes she was, but that'll teach you to be more careful. Are you going to read some more or wait until later?"
"Later I think. The next part is when Lady Eleanor leaves for England. She appears to have gone home by ship…"
~~~~~
…Leaving the steamy, hot island of Singapore behind was no chore for Lady Eleanor Chalcot. The roads down from KL to Singapore were not brilliant at the best of times, and with the heavy monsoon rains, many were already impassable. Great torrents of rain lashed the thick, red mud on the embankments causing glutinous landslides to cover some of the lower-lying roads.
The steam railway was a far more convenient and comfortable means of travel. It had been built during the first half of the twentieth century; Eleanor and Winston planned to travel from KL down to the Tanjong Pagar Station in Singapore.
Earlier, knowing she had to make arrangements fast, Eleanor sorted out her daughters, Felicity and Emma, in almost reckless haste. The girls' nanny, Elizabeth, was well-trained, and if maybe a little surprised at her mistress' sudden plans for a trip 'back home', it certainly was not her place to ask questions. Neither could she argue that it was a good idea to take them.
The girls, aged eight and five respectively, were taught at home by a tutor who had spent over thirty years (apart from war time) in Malaya, attempting to fill the heads of British expatriate children with algebra, French, English, mathematics, geography, history and a little basic science. As Felicity and Emma were still young, their lessons were light and fun. A few hours schooling on week days, sewing lessons from Elizabeth and the rest of the time was their own. Eleanor had no qualms about leaving them. She planned on returning soon after the birth of the baby.
The train journey during the monsoon season took all day, but thankfully there had been no serious mishap. Eleanor felt the heat whenever they stopped at local villages hidden behind a deep jungle façade. They spent their time dozing, reading and buying snacks and boiled water from the locals in the atap villages. She felt irritable and snappy with Winston and Singapore couldn't arrive soon enough. She longed to see the old colonial railway building which resembled a lofty hotel rather than a station.
During the journey, Winston had his nose inside a novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs. These days he rarely engaged in any long or meaningful conversation with his wife. Not meaning to be openly rude, he would have been horrified if she had complained of his neglect. Winston simply shut himself off by selfishly doing what he wanted. Marriage to Eleanor had lost its thrill after the birth of their daughters and the later string of miscarriages.
Eleanor's air of remoteness that once had thrilled Winston now failed to captivate him, and at times he found her distinctly distant and cold. That she found their love-making distasteful and made excuses only added fuel to his disenchantment. Winston soon found solace in the arms of a Chinese girl: a diminutive five foot one with a luscious, curvy body built for sex.
Eleanor's struggle with her many miscarriages did nothing to improve her distaste for the marital bed. She was permanently terrified of yet another pregnancy and did her utmost to keep him out of her room. Occasionally, Winston would drink too much brandy and forget his own disdain for what he privately thought of as his frigid wife and took what he considered his right.
~~~~~
Hot and tired from their journey, Sir Winston and Lady Chalcot alighted from their railway carriage at Tanjong Pagar station. Catching the attention of a bearded Sikh railway porter, they were soon following the sweating man as he pushed and elbowed his way through the noisy crowd gathered on the platform. Outside the station, there was more hustle and bustle from hooting cars and lorries as he whistled up a taxi to take them to Raffles Hotel.
The Chalcots were long-time regulars at Raffles and Winston had his favourite rooms. Eleanor was almost fainting with fatigue and longed for a soothing bath to offset her nasty headache.
She had almost forgotten quite how noisy and frantic Singapore could be. Their taxi swerved around rickshaws and sacred, lumbering, white Brahman cows, hundreds of bicycles and people on foot. There were competing smells from food stalls, cow dung and filthy drains. It was exciting and disgusting all at the same time. Unable to keep her eyes closed, Eleanor gazed with wonder at the honking, tooting cars and the crowds pushing and milling along the roadside. Hawkers shouted their wares, spitting and shrilling over the heads of those around them. It was almost overwhelming.
Winston, for once, looked amused. He often made the trip down to bustling Singapore City, whereas Eleanor rarely travelled and had not ventured here for at least four ye
ars. The noise and crowds baffled her. Where on earth did they all come from or belong? How could the multitudinous crowds just disappear into the shanty-like Kampongs at the end of the day's business?
"You seem bemused my dear."
Startled, Eleanor looked across to where he sat next to her. "So many people, so much noise…" Her voice trailed away as she met his gaze. "Where do they all live?"
Winston shrugged. "In the high rise blocks that have been appearing these last few years, I suppose, and in the kampongs of course, although many more people have now drifted into the city looking for easy work."
A thud against the taxi window made Eleanor jump back in surprise. A thin Chinese man was pointing at a stall filled with plastic looking watches he had erected on the roadside. His open mouth displayed a row of gold-capped teeth as he shouted to Eleanor through the glass. Startled, Eleanor shook her head.
"He wants to sell you a watch," Winston chuckled. "Only the best of course." He waved a hand at the man in dismissal.
"No, no. Mem no want."
The man fell back, hawking a huge, yellow-green glob into the street. Eleanor grimaced.
The taxi gathered speed as it crossed an intersection of roads.
"Not long to Raffles. I expect you'd like a bath before dinner, hmm?"
Eleanor nodded her head in relief. She felt dirty and bone-weary; her underwear was sticking to her skin. A commotion broke out ahead and the traffic slowed to a halt. After a minute, they were on their way again, and Eleanor found herself gazing down at the bloodied and matted fur body of a swamp or Pi dog. Jerking her head away in disgust, Eleanor met her husband's gaze upon her. She felt a tremor go through her, as she knew what his look meant.
~~~~~
Raffles Hotel, Eleanor remembered, was just the same as when she had last stayed there. It had changed since its original, humble beginnings in 1887. The main building which stood before them was built in 1889. A large white building that appeared both imposing and graceful. In 1931 during the depression, Raffles was hit like many other establishments and went into receivership. It was a few years before the hotel was bought and began to make a slow but steady climb back up the hotel rankings.
Winston loved the place, particularly the legendary Long Bar, home of the Singapore Sling. He always tried to reserve the same suite of rooms whenever he visited. While the boy showed Winston where the light switches were and the champagne chilling in the cooler, Eleanor was already running a soothing bath. Despite a niggling headache behind her eyes she knew Winston would demand she accompany him to dinner that evening in the Elizabeth Grill. Their last night together was going to be a long one, and she was not looking forward to it.
~~~~~
Winston and Eleanor ate an early dinner in the famous Grill Room. Winston ordered lobster while Eleanor, who had a tiny appetite that evening, was content with simple grilled lamb chops. The Grill had recently been redecorated, and the glow from the many candles and sparkling silverware was reflected in the soft tones on the walls. Eleanor's eyes glittered in the candlelight, matched only by the diamonds at her throat and ear lobes.
"You look particularly lovely tonight, despite the long journey," Winston murmured, lifting his wine glass to his lips.
Eleanor's heart skipped a beat and she felt her throat constrict in fear. For some reason, it reminded her of their wedding night when they had come together as almost strangers on a new pinnacle of existence.
~~~~~
They had lain down on the four-poster bed and revealed themselves fully to each other. Within minutes, Eleanor's anxieties had been serious: unutterable. She had experienced a visceral dread and disgust.
The thought of closeness…a close embrace and her stomach had tightened, together with a nauseous feeling in the back of her throat. Words she had read in what to her was a dizzy, modern magazine came to mind, words that made her want to gag: glans, engorged penis, penetration.
The thought of Winston entering her was akin to nothing but pain and a violation of her body. She tried to convince herself that she was just nervous; this was bound to pass. She remonstrated with herself; it was just squeamishness bordering on hysteria, but when she thought of her husband embracing her and touching her down there, even though he loved her, it was simply repulsive.
Eleanor suspected there was something profoundly wrong with her. She thought her problem was greater, deeper than just physical disgust. She believed her whole being was in revolt. With her violation, she was to lose both composure and happiness. She did not want to be penetrated. Sex with Winston was the price she must pay for being a woman: a toy, a vessel. She quivered as she thought about it.
She loved Winston as much as she thought she could love any man. She didn't love him with the hot and moist passion she had read about in the newfound magazines of the time, but deeply, almost sisterly. She enjoyed having his strong arm around her and cuddling him back. His kisses were nice, although she hated his probing tongue in her mouth. He had original ideas, a curious mind and he was kind to her.
During his courtship, Eleanor had flirted with him. She was conscious that this flirtation would make matters worse for her, but she wanted to please him. She didn't want to feel entirely useless.
Winston would never know what it cost Eleanor to put her hand briefly on, or near his penis. She loved him and had to overcome her considerable distaste. As she felt his stirring and hardening beneath her hand, she experienced a living thing, nothing to do with her Winston, and she recoiled with disgust.
She made herself remember; she loved this man, she had consented with pleasure to become his wife. He was kind and would do her no harm. Shrugging herself into his embrace, against his chest (so hairy), inhaling his familiar musky scent, she felt reassured. On kissing, she felt his tongue, hard and strong against her teeth. Penetrating her. Her own tongue recoiled with distaste. Ignoring her defence, he asserted himself, probing her mouth and into her private places. She was repelled and shook from head to toe. She felt herself shrinking; she had to concentrate on not struggling, not gagging and not panicking. Eleanor realised that in agreeing in marriage with Winston, she had agreed to consent to just this. She gave a moan, and Winston, thrilled by her sound, probed deeper.
Eleanor could take no more: suffocating, sickened, smothered and helpless. But she could not let him down; it was her duty.
She lay on her back, staring up at the white-pleated cloth supported on posts above their heads. She concentrated on a tiny tear in one corner, a coin-sized tear. How had that happened? In the laundry? She was desperately trying not to think of the immediate future. She imagined herself lying on a sun-drenched beach on the Côte d'Azure, cool air travelling over her bare thighs. Winston's face replaced that of the canopy above her, filling her view. Drawing her tight to him, she saw his nose, the darkness of his face stubble, the blemish from an old razor-cut and the sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
Against her hip, she felt his erection, hard, pulsing, a free being.
He took her hand and sucked the ends of her fingers, one by one. Kissing the last tiny finger, he tensed and rolled on top of her. She was pinned down, helpless and breathless from his weight. Not wanting to appear useless – she thought she had herself under control – she curled her fingers around the base of his penis. It felt silky, and emboldened, she moved back a little pulling it downward. Winston gave a shudder and a strange wail as his muscular back arched in spasms over her. He emptied himself. He filled her pubic hair, her navel, her belly in warm, viscous fluid.
She thought she had mastered her earlier feelings, but with horror she found she was incapable of repressing her primal disgust. She stared at the fluid as it lay as slime from another body. She gave a thin cry of revulsion as she watched it, felt it drool across her skin, the intimate odour, the cooling stickiness that became her shame. Screaming, she had grabbed the sheet and frantically wiped away the offending loathsome rivulet.
Astonished and motionless, Winston watched her fro
m the marital bed. In shame and anger, Eleanor sprang from their wedding bed, not able to look at him. She snatched the coverlet, and wrapping it around her body, she fled the room slamming the door behind her…
Chapter 5
…Diana felt torn. She was lying on a sunbed and reading the journal belonging to a woman from another period in time it seemed. She checked the date and found that Eleanor had written this in the 1950s. Over fifty years ago; it seemed like another age when things were more strict and formal. Diana wasn't sure if she liked what she was reading, or even if she should be reading this dead woman's secrets.
So Eleanor had panicked on her wedding night. Diana was sure she was not the first woman who had done so. Perhaps during those earlier years, mothers did not pass on to their daughters the facts of life and what to expect. Even so, Eleanor had remained married to Winston, and she had given him children, so they must have resolved her sexual problem.
Glancing at her watch, Diana thought she and Steve could squeeze in one more dip before lunch. Pity to wake him though. Perhaps she would read just one more chapter…
~~~~~
…Eleanor's ship was due to sail at 1400 hours on the afternoon tide.
The previous evening, she had persuaded a florid and overly tipsy Winston that sleeping together was not a good idea. She complained of a nagging headache which she knew was developing into a migraine and Doctor Kilbraithe's tonic and migraine pills would knock her out for the night. Disappointed, Winston left Eleanor at her own bedroom door and decided to go back down to the Long Bar for one last whisky. A meeting with an old pal from Jahore had helped pass the time, especially when he introduced Winston to a couple of pretty Chinese girls that he regularly looked up whenever he was in Singapore. Winston eventually passed out in his own bed after being helped there during the early hours by the concierge and desk clerk.
Bleary-eyed, hung over and in a foul temper, Winston escorted Eleanor to Pier Number Five in Singapore harbour, where her ship taking her to England was moored alongside.
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