Our Spoons Came from Woolworths

by Barbara Comyns

  I suddenly realised I was very fond of Charles, not in love with him, but I enjoyed his companionship, and was happy to be with him now there was no reason to feel resentful towards him. He seemed to feel my new fondness for him and fell in love with me all over again. Sometimes when I came home in the evening he would have the supper all ready for me, and if I was tired he would make me go to bed early and read to me aloud. I loved this after all our unhappy times together.

  The only thing that was wrong was my conscience. Peregrine was weighing on it terribly heavily. As a matter of fact, I just didn’t want him any more. My one wish was never to see him again. I kept trying to tell him, but it was so dreadfully difficult. He must have known my feelings had changed, because I kept making excuses about visiting his studio. Now he would meet me on my way to work and again at lunch and in the evening, too, if Charles wasn’t there first. He kept looking at me with hot, reproachful eyes, rather like frying liver, and at lunch-time it was frightful. Now I couldn’t eat either, and we sat looking at each other over beastly plates of cooling meat and two vegetables.

  After about a week of this I knew I must quickly tell him the truth, so I agreed to go to his studio and he seemed very agreeably surprised, and there he was waiting outside the studio where I worked in the evening. It was very warm, and he was wearing a perfectly beastly blazer — a blue one, at least two sizes too large, and an open-necked shirt, made of awful lock-knit stuff like cheap knickers. I was quite glad to see him wearing such stupid clothes. It made it easier to tell him I didn’t love him any more.

  When we entered his studio there was a pathetic little supper all ready and flowers on the table as well, so I felt bad again. After we had eaten the pathetic little supper he pulled me over to the divan, and put his hot arm all round me. It was just getting ready to thunder outside and it suddenly became very dark and I felt dreadfully closed in. The room smelt of damp towels and mice, and I couldn’t bear it any more. He started to kiss me, but I quickly jumped to my feet, and said, ‘Peregrine, there is something dreadful I must say. It’s this — I don’t love you any more and I don’t want to be an adulteress any more either.’ I was quite horrified at myself for saying it like that, but it came out so quick.

  After that, of course, everything was grim. All the most awful things happened. He put his head in his hands and cried. It made me so shocked and frit, and I longed to escape; but there was rain and thunder going on outside, but, in any case, I thought the least I could do would be to try to cheer him up a little, but he just went on being miserable. I rather had an idea he was enjoying himself in some strange way. He kissed the bottom of my skirt. I said, ‘Don’t do that. The hem is coming undone already.’

  When at last the rain stopped, he let me go home. He came as far as the bus with me. He held my arm very tight and kept saying, ‘My God, oh, my God!’ although he was an atheist and it wouldn’t do any good saying that. When a 28 bus came, it was with difficulty I persuaded him not to accompany me home; but I promised to meet him for lunch the following day, although I couldn’t bear the idea.

  The next week was perfectly ghastly. I could never make up my mind how much Peregrine was acting or really feeling. I longed to cut him completely out of my life; but I kept remembering all his kindness to me and knew I mustn’t be too unkind. All this worried me so much I began to feel quite ill and decided the best thing to do would be to leave the studio and give up my job earlier than I intended, then there wouldn’t be those awful lunches, and he would only see me at home and Charles would usually be there.

  There was one good thing that happened at this morbid time. Francis put Charles in touch with a man who was about to start a small gallery which was going to exhibit modern English paintings, and it was arranged that as soon as the gallery opened Charles would look after it in the afternoons. The salary would be only one pound a week, but some of Charles’s paintings were to be exhibited, so there would be a chance of them selling, and he would be meeting people interested in painting all the time. I was so surprised and pleased at Charles for taking the work, but he seemed almost eager to, but that might have been because he wanted to please me.

  25

  Charles had gone all the way to Birmingham to fetch Sandro, and I should have been feeling overcome with happiness, but I wasn’t. I was feeling scared to death, because I was going to have another baby and it was Peregrine’s. It had been inside me for about two months now. At first, in all the excitement of the money and everything, I hadn’t noticed anything wrong. I’d forgotten all about periods, but when another month passed I realised what had happened. Why should all these babies pick on me, and always at the most inconvenient times? Charles and I had been so happy lately, and now it was all ruined. I had not told Peregrine yet and I thought perhaps it would be best to tell him to-day, while Charles was away. I was rather hoping I would feel better when I had told him. It wouldn’t seem my responsibility so much. My brain had been feeling so numb lately I couldn’t think what to do about the future at all.

  I went to the public ’phone in the hall and dialled his number. He seemed so pleased to hear my voice. It was over a week since we had last seen each other. He said he would love to come to lunch. I wondered if he would enjoy himself as much as he expected. I went to the shops and bought some eggs for an omelette, and some raspberries. I bought quite a lot so that Charles and Sandro could have some for supper. It was so lovely to have enough money to buy things like that.

  When Peregrine arrived he was in very good form. He seemed to think I’d changed my mind about him, ’phoning him like that. He kept saying how pleased he was to see me and how beautiful I was looking. After lunch, when we were drinking our coffee, I told him my news. I was interested to see what his reactions would be. He had always said he very much wished to have a child. His wife had refused to have any — that was one of the things they had quarrelled about. I thought, ‘If he really loves me and wants the child, the best thing for us all will be for me to leave Charles and try to start a new life; it can’t be much worse than the one I’ve had up to now.’

  I just said, ‘I’m going to have a baby and it’s yours. It’s about two months old now.’

  He looked very startled, rather like a frit hen. Then he was thoughtful, but eventually he said quite brightly, ‘You could have another operation, couldn’t you?’

  I said, ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  So he thought again, and suggested I should let Charles think it was his. Just pretend it was born a month premature, and it would appear to be his.

  I said, ‘Charles simply hates babies, and can’t afford to keep his own, so I don’t see why he should keep yours.’

  I must have sounded rather fierce, because he put on a very sad face, then put his face in his hands, but he cheered quite soon and said, ‘Perhaps it will be born dead.’

  After this my one idea was to get rid of him now. So I pretended I was going out, and he said he had better get home now. He seemed very glad of an excuse to go, but kissed me before he left and said, ‘Let me know if there is anything I can do to help,’ and walked away into the sunshine.

  When he had gone I lay on the divan and cried till I was sick. I had wild ideas of being a nun, but they wouldn’t let you be a nun if you were having a baby. Feeling dreadfully sad and hurt in the night makes you unable to sleep, but in the day-time it is quite the reverse, and soon I became kind of stunned and sleepy. Then I was sick some more, and suddenly went to sleep.

  When I awoke I felt quite calm. I looked at the clock and saw that Charles would be home with Sandro in an hour. I went into the bedroom and there was Sandro’s cot all aired and ready. Sitting on it was a new teddy-bear that growled. There was nothing else I could do, so I made some tea and washed up the lunch things while I drank it. Then I sat on the steps that led into the garden. I smoked one of Charles’s cigarettes, a thing I seldom did, but I thought it might steady me a little while I made my plans for the future.

  It was quite p
lain there would be no help coming from Peregrine, but I had £150, less £5 I’d borrowed from Ann. With this I could run away. Maybe I could start a small business, a book-shop perhaps — but if I took Sandro with me Charles’s family would track me down and take him away. On the other hand, I could take the easy course and let Charles think it was his child, born rather early. When it had arrived I could tell him the truth. The only thing about this was the £150 would have been used up by this time and I would have nothing to run away with if he didn’t want me after he knew the truth. Then I thought I must tell him I was having a baby as soon as possible, this evening, if he wasn’t too tired. If he hated the idea, as he most likely would, I’d tell him he needn’t worry, I would go away and take Sandro with me. If I didn’t tell him about Peregrine, his family couldn’t very well take him away from me.

  I found myself hoping I would have a miscarriage. I felt I almost hoped the poor baby would be born dead, as Peregrine wished. Then I was horrified with myself. I thought, ‘I’ve murdered one child, now I’m hoping this one will be born dead. What a wicked woman I’ve grown into! What has become of me? I used to be quite good once.’

  Then Charles and Sandro came home and I made them some tea. But Sandro was so excited he wouldn’t eat or drink, but kept running around the flat, opening and shutting doors, and chatting away so fast we couldn’t understand what he was saying. In the end he discovered his old toy-cupboard and sat down and pulled everything out. Most of it was junk, but he seemed very pleased to see it again. It was with great difficulty I persuaded him to leave the untidy heap of semi-broken toys. I bathed and put him to bed, and thought how shocked Charles’s aunt would be to see him sitting up in bed eating raspberries and cream well covered in sugar.

  When we had eaten our supper and Charles was smoking and finishing off his beer, I told him I was going to have this baby, but instead of being overcome with dismay, he was nice about it. I was so surprised tears came in my throat. He said perhaps it would be a girl this time, he would quite enjoy having a daughter, and that he was going to make a great fuss of me this time to make up for all the sad times before, and I felt more wicked and guilty than ever.

  26

  We decided it would be a good idea to move again. We had had some unhappy times together in our present flat and thought it would be best to start again somewhere. I couldn’t help feeling, ‘If I’m going to leave Charles in about seven months, it’s hardly worth moving now,’ but I was getting rather cowardly and kept hoping something would happen, some miracle, and Charles and I wouldn’t have to part at all.

  So we started flat-hunting. We were looking for something near the Heath or Primrose Hill. I had a great longing to have our own bathroom and not have people always banging on the door. Now if we left our towels and soap in the bathroom, other people would use them, and the bath always had black scum on it. Once when Charles’s father came to see us he went to the lavatory and forgot to pull the plug, and an awful old woman ran after him and said, ‘You dirty old man, go back and pull that plug at once,’ so he did.

  With very little trouble we found a most suitable garden flat. It was rather small, but really self-contained. It was all newly decorated in light colours and the sitting-room had a parquet floor, real thick parquet, not just thin stuff laid on top. There was a pretty little bathroom with hot water and every convenience, and a bedroom looking out on to the garden. The kitchen was tiny. It must have been converted from a cupboard. There was just room for a sink, cooker and flap table, which you put down when it wasn’t wanted in use. There were plenty of shelves on the walls and you could prepare and cook a whole meal without moving a step.

  This flat was in Belsize Square, so we were quite near Primrose Hill. We moved at the end of July, and as soon as we were straight we had a party, so that all our friends would know where we were living. Bumble Blunderbore, whom we hadn’t seen for a long time, came. He brought a ‘great woman’ with him, who really was a great woman. She was quite six feet tall and very beautiful in a totem-pole kind of way, with huge staring eyes, like head-lamps. He was full of how inspiring she was to sculpt. So far he had been unable to finish any of the busts he had started of her, but when he did it would be the best thing he had ever done. All this seemed rather familiar to me. Peregrine was at the party, too. I made rather a point of only having him to the flat when other people were there, too.

  A few days after the party we did a thing we had never done together before — we went away for a seaside holiday. We went to Walberswick; James — and, of course, Sandro — came, too. Charles painted most of the time and I lay in the sun and got very brown, and Sandro discovered the sea for the first time. When there was no sun we went for long walks in the woods. In the evening I tried to knit baby-clothes. James was very good at knitting, and did quite a lot for me. People walking past the cottage where we were staying would look quite surprised to see James in his horn-rimmed glasses, sitting sedately by the door knitting baby’s vests.

  We were away for a fortnight, and the change did me a lot of good. Often I forgot that the coming baby wasn’t Charles’s, and I began to feel quite placid. When we returned I bought a radio. Now I was home so much it was a nice thing to have. We didn’t have a licence, because I thought only people who had them on hire-purchase had to have licences. By the time I’d discovered my mistake we hadn’t a wireless any more. Another wonderful thing we had was our own telephone, and an extra long flex was fixed so that you could even ’phone when you were in the bath. Now Sandro was home we couldn’t go out much in the evening, but people often came to see us, and I was quite happy to stay at home and sew or read, and there was the wireless to listen to. Charles sometimes went out by himself, but I didn’t feel lonely. I enjoyed sewing clothes for this baby, because I could afford to buy fine and pretty materials. I was determined this baby should have new and lovely things, even if I didn’t really want it.

  Charles’s family were deeply shocked when they heard about us having another baby. Paul wrote and said he would cancel all future help, but as he had only given us twelve pounds in the last three years, we didn’t worry. Eva said I had no consideration for Charles. I must control myself and put a stop to all these babies, and in this case, I felt her remarks were quite justified.

  The winter came, but we had as much coal as we liked this year. It was lovely to have a fire all day and not go out to work, and to always have enough to eat, clean sheets every week, plenty of hot water — to have all these things at once was almost too good to be true. Sometimes in the afternoon when the housework and shopping were done, and Sandro having his rest, I would sculpt; but I never got as far as casting anything because I was so afraid of making our beautiful flat dirty. Every day was almost the same, but I liked it like that. In the afternoons Charles went to the gallery and he was happy there. He made a number of new friends, and used to go out with them in the evenings rather often. Sometimes he brought them home for supper and I would cook special dishes. Quite gone were the days when everything I cooked tasted of soap.

  As I grew rather fat and full of baby, Peregrine came less and less, so I think he did not like to see me like that, although I didn’t look very ugly or bulgy. I didn’t stick out behind this time. Then one day he came and told us he had lost his job as art critic. His paper had ceased to take an interest in Art. I felt awfully sorry for him and hoped he had plenty of money saved up, but the next time he came he seemed very depressed and I had a sad feeling that perhaps he was getting short of money, but he didn’t say so.

  It became very near the time the baby was due. Charles had forgotten all about dates, so I didn’t have to pretend and lie about it. I had arranged to go into a nursing-home quite near and was having a room all to myself. It wasn’t very expensive, but the actual confinement would just about use the rest of Aunt Nelly’s money. Sandro was to stay with some of Charles’s new friends while I was away from home. They lived on the outskirts of London and had some children of their own. They wer
e more solid kind of people than Charles’s usual friends. I was very glad about this arrangement because I never wanted Sandro to stay with any of my in-laws again.

  One morning just before he left home I went into the garden to see if he was up to anything drastic. I found him sitting on the dustbin reading a comic paper; at least, he was looking at one most intently. When he noticed me he jumped off the dustbin and picked up a large pole, and before I could stop him, he said, ‘See stars, Mummy,’ and gave me a great crack on the head with it. I almost fainted with the shock, and when he saw how much he had hurt me, he was most distressed. When I had recovered a little he pointed, with a dirty, trembling finger, to a picture in his comic paper of a monkey hitting a man on the head and large stars shooting out. That is what he expected to come from my head if he hit it hard enough. That afternoon I took him to Charles’s new friends, partly because he was getting rather difficult to manage in my present condition, and also because the doctor came to examine me and said the new baby would come any day now — not that babies often come in the day, they usually choose the night for some unknown reason.

  27

  A few days after Sandro went away I had a feeling the baby really was coming. I felt very restless and uncomfortable all day and began to wish Charles would come home long before he was due. He didn’t like me to ’phone the gallery, but I wished very much to talk to someone. There seemed to be a great loneliness about the flat, so I ’phoned Peregrine, but when I got through a strange man answered and said Mr Narrow had left the studio some time ago, and he gave me his new number. I wrote it down, but did not telephone him. I felt so surprised at him not telling us he had moved. We had seen him only three days ago and he had not mentioned it. I thought possibly he had moved to a cheaper room or flat and was ashamed for us to know.