Keepsake

by Kelly, Sheelagh

  ‘How do you do, Grandmamma?’ Clad in a white lace bonnet with an ostentation of frills, the three-year-old peered up as if through a froth of bubbles and extended her hand as she had been taught by her mother.

  ‘Such wonderful manners!’ Even having witnessed this a dozen times, Aggie’s face creased in fond laughter as she shook the little hand. ‘And the conversations she can hold for one so young! Take as long as ye like, Ett, we’d gladly be entertained by these three all day long, wouldn’t we, Uncle Mal?’

  The old man nodded and patted his knee as encouragement.

  Thanking them, Etta rushed home to prepare for her outing, unwinding her hair from its usual chignon and paying a great deal of care in its re-arrangement, dabbing rosewater on her face and inducing some colour to her cheeks with a brisk rub of her palms. The outfit was a harder problem to solve. Even reserved for special occasions the lilac dress was past its heyday, the cream lace grubby and frayed, but it would have to do. Excitement and apprehension churning her stomach, she donned her gold locket, hat and gloves and set out to meet her old friend.

  They arrived simultaneously, one on foot, the other alighting from a highly polished carriage with liveried footman to assist. But if Victoria was horrified by the obvious deterioration in Etta’s circumstances then she did not mention it, only the merest hesitation giving it away before she hurried forth to meet her friend.

  ‘My dear, how wonderful to see you after all these years!’ She gripped Etta’s hands and beamed into her face. ‘Still as lovely as ever!’ The recipient gave a self-deprecating laugh and thanked her as Victoria went on, ‘I attempted to send you an invitation to my coming-of-age ball last year but no one appeared to know where we might find you. I gather your family have cut you off.’

  Etta gave a soulful nod, and, being given the reminder that her own twenty-first birthday was nigh, knew better than to expect similar celebration and felt worse than ever.

  Victoria sympathised, then added, ‘Mother asked me to say how much she misses you.’

  ‘Do apologise to her for not letting any of you kno—’

  ‘Oh, my dear, there’s no need, it was so romantic!’ Her friend adopted a highly envious expression. ‘You caused such a scandal – it was doing the rounds for months! Come, let’s acquire a table and you can tell me all about him.’ She hooked her arm through Etta’s and steered her into the café. ‘Then I shall bore you with accounts of my beloved!’

  Infected by the other’s happy enthusiasm, Etta felt her own spirits raised as she sat down to enjoy an assortment of delicacies. The only trouble was that the afternoon was passing much too swiftly, an hour being wasted on eating and small talk when what she really wanted to tell Victoria was how miserable was the reality of her existence.

  However, Victoria was an intuitive sort, and during a lull she detected an air of wistfulness in her friend. ‘So…’ she posed a leading question ‘…has life with Martin been as you imagined?’

  Sensing an invitation to come clean, Etta looked her in the eye. ‘In general, yes…though I didn’t imagine we’d be joined by children quite so early on.’

  Victoria arched her eyebrows and took a sip of tea. ‘Children?’ There had been no mention of them until now. ‘How many do you have?’

  ‘Three.’

  Victoria was stunned. ‘Goodness! But you’ve barely been married that amount of years.’

  Etta nodded ruefully, blinking away a tear of embarrassment and despair.

  Realising her faux pas, Victoria said kindly, ‘I should love to meet them. Where are they – with their nurse, I expect?’

  All of a sudden Etta felt like slapping her friend. ‘Victoria, how do you suppose I could afford a nurse?’

  Startled, the other blushed. ‘I’m sorry, I –’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ Etta did not sound too repentant. ‘I didn’t mean to snap, especially after you’ve so generously treated me to tea, but really, have you so little understanding of anything I’ve told you? Martin is a labouring man, can you not imagine how tiny a budget we have on which to live?’

  Victoria winced and apologised again. ‘How dreadful…I saw only the romantic side.’

  ‘And that’s the awful part of it,’ mourned Etta. ‘I’m as passionate about Martin as ever. I adore him, but he no longer –’ She broke off as a waitress passed the table, then continued, ‘he won’t come near me. I hope it’s only out of fear of starting another child. I don’t know what I’d do if he –’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it is, dear,’ Victoria patted her friend’s hand comfortingly, then after a sidelong glance, murmured, ‘I can at least empathise there. I know what it is to be so in love one cannot keep one’s hands off one another. Gerald is quite a bit older than I and was divorced. Father didn’t regard him as suitable and took an age before permitting us to marr—’

  ‘But what can one do?’ Focused on her own problem, Etta interrupted with a helpless sigh.

  Victoria took another sip of tea and glanced around again before leaning over to whisper a confidence. ‘How do you suppose I’m not yet enceinte?’ This was not a subject normally aired between ladies, but her friend’s desperation called for radical measures, and besides, it pleased Victoria to be so avante-garde. ‘There are items one can buy to prevent it, you know.’

  Etta did not delay matters by asking how her friend had found this out but showed immediate interest. When Victoria divulged further information, Etta blushed, not through delicacy but because of her shameful financial position. ‘I couldn’t afford such luxuries even if I knew where to purchase them.’

  Victoria was a kind person and did not hesitate before asking, ‘Then would you permit me to send you a couple of dozen?’ Seeing Etta about to shake her head she raised a firm palm. ‘Before you refuse you must put aside any notion of charity or pity or anything else. I’m doing this as one friend to another – even though it might seem an odd sort of gift.’ She gave an impish smile.

  Etta was too desperate to risk another refusal. ‘But your husband –’

  ‘Would never notice, we go through so many!’ Victoria butted in eagerly, then snorted behind a hand. ‘Oh goodness, that sounds depraved – but what I mean to say is that it will be perhaps less of a problem for us to obtain them than it would be for you.’ Her voice lowered again to a whisper. ‘Gerald buys them in bulk, he’s somewhat the optimist.’ She tittered; so did Etta.

  Victoria was in full flow now, the content of her information most unsuitable for such a genteel venue but causing hilarity between the two friends, even more so when this drew disapproving looks from others. ‘You can use each of them four or five times – depending on how rough you are,’ divulged Victoria, blue eyes a-twinkle.

  Exhausted by trying to restrain her laughter, as their meeting gradually drew to a close Etta mopped her eyes and gushed sincerely, ‘Oh, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed seeing you again, Vicky! It must have been fate that led me to see your name in the press, for I truly believe you’ve helped to save my own marriage. I’m so sorry for not writing earlier to say where I was, it must have seemed as if I’d abandoned you.’

  ‘Oh stuff and nonsense.’ Putting on her gloves, Victoria gripped her friend’s arm warmly. ‘I fully understand what it is to be so in love that one can think of no one else. I hardly see any of the people with whom I used to socialise either. I’d love to meet you again –’

  ‘Oh, so would I!’ Etta leapt in.

  ‘– but unfortunately Gerald and I will be moving to London shortly.’ Victoria’s face mirrored Etta’s, which was now swathed in disappointment. ‘I know.’ A look of empathy creased her powdered complexion. ‘It seems so unjust after fate has brought us together again. But perhaps we can meet once in a while when I come to visit my people.’ Etta nodded half-heartedly, noting that Victoria had not sought to invite her and Martin to visit.

  Victoria paid the bill, gathered her belongings and dealt her friend a final peck on the cheek. ‘Goodbye, my dear, it
’s been so lovely to see you again – and I promise I shan’t forget the what-d’you-call-its!’

  Reliving every minute of that wonderful afternoon again and again, Etta went home in a spirit of hope.

  Noting her bright eyes, Aggie remarked as she handed over the children, ‘You look as if you’ve enjoyed yourself. Managed to get himself something nice, did you?’

  Only then did Etta remember that the object of her outing had been to buy a gift for Marty. But her intended groan quickly became a smile. ‘Yes, I’m having it delivered later,’ she informed her mother-in-law.

  ‘Oh, too large to carry, was it?’ Aggie looked impressed.

  ‘Mm, not large, no,’ said Etta with a sparkle, ‘but I think it’s something he’ll appreciate.’

  ‘Ah, I know that look.’ Aggie winked. ‘Something you can enjoy as well, is it? Something nice for tea?’

  Etta laughed at Aggie’s unwitting response. ‘You know me so well, don’t you?’ Gathering her children, gaily she took them home.

  ‘Yes, I know you,’ murmured Aggie to herself whilst smiling and waving at her grandchildren. ‘Whatever it is, you can be sure she’ll have it burnt to a cinder by the time Marty comes home.’

  Ironically, the what-d’you-call-its were to arrive bang on their wedding anniversary – at least Etta surmised that this was what was in the package which Marty had just unwrapped, judging by his puzzled expression. Being Sunday, he was not at work and was therefore free to answer the postman’s knock. She had tried to intercept the parcel which, despite it bearing her name, he had begun to open, but she was too late, his eager fingers had wrenched off the string and torn the brown paper.

  Wondering what on earth his wife had spent their money on now, Marty unravelled one of the unfamiliar items and held it up for a second before the shape of it caused suspicion and, finally guessing what it was, he gasped and rewrapped it quickly. ‘Etta, are you out of your mind sending for these?’

  ‘I didn’t buy them!’ She was anxious to assure him.

  ‘The children might have seen them!’

  A scornful laugh. ‘They won’t know what they are.’

  ‘Maybe, but what if somebody else had been here? You could have warned me!’ Was this what had made her behave so strangely during the past few days?

  ‘Sorry I didn’t realise they’d be here quite so soon. A friend of mine suggested they might be useful.’

  He gasped again, this time with condemnation. ‘You’ve been discussing our private life?’

  ‘No! No, not really.’ Her bosom heaved as she confessed, ‘I bumped into an old friend, Victoria, and when she learned that we have three children after only four years of marriage she was horrified and said she could help!’

  ‘What is she, some kind of prostitute?’

  Anxiety turned to outrage. ‘No! How dare you malign my good friends – and now who’s being irresponsible in front of the children!’

  Still aghast, Marty looked down at the package and shook his head, whilst little Celia looked anxiously from one to another.

  Etta went on in clipped tones, ‘Victoria is a respectable married woman who wishes to delay starting a family of her own, and envisaging me in another ten years with another ten children she thought to provide a serv—’

  ‘Does she think I’m so stupid and low that I can’t take care of my own affairs?’ demanded Marty.

  ‘She was merely trying to be kind!’ Etta’s fury amplified. ‘Wanted her friend to have a similar kind of happiness that she has with her husband, but I’m beginning to wonder why I married you at all!’

  He retaliated. ‘You said you wanted to be part of my life!’

  ‘But I didn’t know there’d be so many others in it!’ She went on hotly, ‘There’s always somebody else here, your mother, your father, your Aunt Fanny – I never get to be with you alone. What’s the matter, don’t you want things to be like they were? Are you deliberately trying to drive me away?’

  He looked stunned. ‘Well, yes – no! I mean, of course I want things to be like they were, Etta, of course I do. But this is…sinful.’

  ‘Who says?’ she grilled him.

  ‘The Church.’

  ‘You hypocrite, you never go to church!’

  A loud wail interrupted the argument.

  ‘See what you’ve done now!’ Etta grabbed her little son and tried to comfort him, which was difficult as the other two had also become infected by the upset. ‘There, there, Father didn’t mean to frighten you, have this.’ In a few deft movements she had set Edward down, scooped a spoon into the jam pot and inserted it into each little mouth. Succeeding in pacifying them, she stood glaring at her husband.

  Having put aside his anger and embarrassment in order to help soothe the infants, Marty became contemplative. Delving into the package again, he held up one of the sheaths – though used his body to shield it from tender eyes. Perhaps this was not such a depravity after all if it meant he could still have access to the one he so desired.

  For a moment he beheld his wife’s angry stance, then, regretting that he had upset her needlessly, he dealt her a bashful smirk. ‘Hell, Ett, what have you told her about me? This’d fit a bloody stallion.’

  Her angry mask immediately collapsed and she came to him slyly. ‘Well, that’s what you are.’

  He laughed aloud and curled his free arm around her to kiss her, this also serving to remove the children’s apprehension.

  ‘I thought they might be a suitable anniversary gift. Would you care to put one to the test?’

  ‘God, you’re shameless! Oh, go on then.’ He feigned a look of duty but beat her to the staircase.

  ‘Celie, make sure Edward doesn’t touch the fireguard,’ Etta instructed her daughter, whom she trusted to be sensible. ‘Mother and Father need to do something. We’ll be down shortly.’ Happiness restored, she pelted after Marty.

  Whilst not wholly satisfactory, the first of the what-d’you-call-its did succeed in bringing the couple back to intimacy, and more importantly resurrected their shared sense of humour. There was some small inconvenience for Etta in that it required washing after use, but this in itself was to provide amusement from an unanticipated source.

  That same afternoon Marty’s parents called in on their way home from a country walk with the children and Uncle Mal. With no time to hide the sheath that had been put to dry on the hoist above the fireplace, Marty tried to keep his gaze from straying there, babbling like an idiot whilst at the same time exchanging a look of panic with his wife.

  Not to offer her guests tea would have seemed rude, and so, with no way of avoiding it, this is what Etta did – though she was acutely conscious that by picking up the kettle she was also drawing attention to the fireplace, and that which hung above it. Seeing Aggie quizzically eyeing the object that dangled from the rail, she bit her lip and cast a sideways look at Marty but dared not move it for fear of inviting a question and, instead, removed herself.

  ‘I hope we’re not depriving Marty of his anniversary gift?’ said Aggie.

  Etta, now carving slices from a piece of boiled bacon, almost choked. ‘I beg your pardo—oh, I see what you mean! No, this isn’t the gift I bought him. I’m afraid we ate that as soon as it arrived, didn’t we, Martin?’

  ‘We did, aye!’ Flummoxed, Marty sought to follow his wife’s lead.

  ‘Well, and you both seem in very good spirits the pair of you,’ offered Redmond in his gentle brogue, noting their shining eyes and lips that twitched with suppressed laughter.

  ‘Oh, we are that, Da!’ Marty nodded vigorously, wishing Etta would put away that mischievous look that made him want to erupt. ‘And what have you been doing with yourselves, boys? My, that’s a big bag you’ve got!’ He nodded encouragingly as his brothers displayed the items they had collected from the hedgerows, showing much more interest than was due, hoping to hold everyone’s attention.

  ‘’Tis my opinion you’ve been feeding the lad too many oats,’ Aggie announced smilin
gly to Etta. ‘Sure and he’s never shut up since we got here.’

  At the mention of oats, Marty dared not meet Etta’s eye. ‘Oh well, that’s a nice how-do-ye-do, sorry for boring you, Ma!’

  Aggie chuckled and was about to say more, but then Etta came forward with plates and a pot of tea and the conversation turned to other things.

  It appeared that Etta and Marty might well have escaped embarrassment, for the object that dangled from the rail seemed to have been forgotten by the time Aggie and the others made to leave.

  Relieved to have got away with it, the couple allowed themselves to relax a little – but right at the point of exit Aggie turned and frowned. ‘You know, I’ve been racking my brain trying to make out what that there thing is, but I can’t for the life of me –’

  ‘It’s a piping bag,’ said Etta, quick as a flash. ‘I’ve been learning how to ice a cake.’

  Marty could not help a snort and quickly bent down, pretending to tie his shoe as he felt his ears turn red, barely able to contain his laughter.

  ‘Oh…’ Aggie looked as if to show interest.

  Pre-empting a request to see the said cake, Etta added quickly, ‘I’m afraid my first effort wasn’t good enough so I scraped it off. No one shall see it until I’ve perfected the art.’

  Aggie looked most impressed, calling over her shoulder as she left, ‘We’ll know where to come when one o’ the girls needs a wedding cake then.’

  ‘Icing cakes indeed!’ blurted Marty when it was safe to do so, he and Etta falling into each other’s arms laughing uproariously that she had unintentionally created a euphemism for intercourse. ‘She really believed you! You’ll get your comeuppance when you’re called upon to produce the evidence.’

  Etta laughed so hysterically that she could not speak for some moments, the children looking up in bewilderment. ‘Oh stop, don’t set me off any more, it hurts! Oh, dear!’ She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.