Song of Songs

by Beverley Hughesdon

  I was acutely aware of his strong body beside me on the train to Bolton; I stole small glances at him and he smiled back, triumphant, watching my blushes rise. There was nobody else in the tram shelter so he put his arm round me and pressed my hip against his. ‘Ben – people are looking!’ He laughed and kissed me full on the lips and I was clinging to him for a moment before I pulled away, and his warm hand still clasped mine.

  Ada was some years younger than Ivy, and she still had a child at home: a boy of ten or so who wanted Ben to mend his model engine. As they both crouched on the floor over it Ada turned to me and smiled, ‘Our Ben’s right good with the youngsters – he’s looking forward to having a family of ’is own.’ And for a moment I stirred uneasily on the sofa, seeing how close the two brown heads were – the boy leaningly trustingly against his uncle’s shoulder as they peered into the mechanism of the toy together.

  We ate lamb instead of beef and spooned out mint sauce instead of horseradish; afterwards I sat watching Ben’s broad shoulders and strong hands as he drank his tea; he looked up and smiled at me and I blushed and shifted a little on my seat and hoped there would be no damp patch on my skirt when I stood up to help Ada with the washing up. Ben followed us into the scullery, and Ada flapped her dish cloth at him. ‘Get out from under our feet, lad – kitchen’s no place for men.’ Laughing, he dodged round her and pulled me casually against him to kiss my cheek. ‘See you later, love.’ He winked at me as he left.

  Ada smiled at my scarlet cheeks. ‘Well, you’d best make most of it – once the babbies come along there’s not much time for cuddling – ’cept to make more babbies!’ She laughed as she bent over the sink and I felt that shadow of unease touch me again. We left soon after tea; Ada was smiling as Ben carefully eased my jacket over my shoulders – and I flushed yet again.

  As soon as we were inside the front door at Royds Street Ben said simply, ‘I’m sorry, lass – I can’t wait. I’ll ’ave to take you upstairs now, afore I go to plot’ I looked at him, uncertain, then ducked my head and ran to the stairs. He followed close on my heels, already loosening his tie, and his jacket was flung to the floor as soon as he came into the bedroom. His waistcoat dropped on to a chair, then he dragged off his trousers and underpants all together, caught hold of me and swung me up on to the bed. I scarcely had time to take off my hat before he began to tug at my skirt – but he could not get the fastening undone quickly enough so he simply pushed it up above my hips, pulled down my drawers and came into me at once.

  I was very uncomfortable; it was so hot in my Sunday costume with his weight on top of me and he was thrusting far too hard – but I could not move my legs to accommodate him more easily because my drawers were tangled round my knees. So I simply lay still and accepted the urgency of his need – he had satisfied me during the previous night, now it was his turn, and I did not really mind the discomfort.

  He grunted and fell heavily forward on to me, and I held him until he was spent. At last he raised his damp face and looked down at me. ‘You’re a good girl, aren’t you? There’s many a one who’d have said no, and sent me packing up plot – but you came straight upstairs and let me mess up your nice costume and all and never complained.’ He took a deep breath and said, ‘Oh Helena, I do love you – I love you so much.’

  I looked up into his grey-blue eyes and went very cold. It seemed a long time before I was able to reply. ‘But – I – I thought, up on the moors, it was – just because I made you.’

  He bent his head and nuzzled my ear, then rested his cheek on the pillow beside me; I stared up at the ceiling, unable to look at him as he said, ‘A woman can’t make a man who doesn’t want to. No, sweetheart, I’ve loved you from moment I opened my eyes and saw you bending over me in th’ospital – or mebbe it were even afore that, when I felt your breasts under me cheek and heard that beautiful voice of yours coaxing me to drink. That were biggest moment of me life, Helena, I’ll never forget that as long as I live. I were in hell, and I’d given up – I’d had too much to bear and I could feel me life draining out of me – and I didn’t care, I were glad to go. And then you called me back.’ His voice thickened. ‘And when I opened me eyes and saw your lovely face there above me – why, if th’entire Prussian Guard had marched into ward that night – I reckon I’d’a’ got off me bed and had a go at them! That’s effect you have on me, sweetheart.’ He moved so as to settle his heavy body more comfortably across mine: he was heavy and hot and I felt as if I would suffocate under the weight of him. ‘After that I knew you were only woman for me – leastways, I got to be honest, Helena – I were a soldier, so I’d ease meself from time to time if a lass were willing and we’d had a good time together – but it didn’t mean nothing to me, it were only me body taking its pleasure, and afterwards I’d lie there beside her thinking of you.’ Of me, of me! My very soul shrank from him. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be easy, you being who you were. But in hospital you’d always treated me a bit special – t’other lads noticed – so it gave me hope.’ I thought impatiently, of course I did – you’d carried in Eddie, you had been Robbie’s sergeant-major! But you fool – how could you think I would have looked in any other way at a common soldier? And the common soldier shifted himself a little, so that his hips crushed me further into the bed as I lay with my skirt creased up around my waist and my drawers pushed down to my knees – and my traitorous belly bare and sticky to his touch. And now he moved a fraction further so he could touch it as he said, ‘But I got me chance,’ and his stubby fingers moved down to handle me, and push possessively into the most private parts of my body as he laughed. ‘I learnt to act fast in war – so I acted fast on tops, and took me chance, and took you too, my lass. And I knew there wouldn’t be a second opportunity, so I made a thorough job of it! But then, sweetheart, you like thorough jobs, don’t you? He’d be no use to you, a man who couldn’t properly fill your belly with himself – even first week we were wed when you were still a bit nervous like, there you were, pulling me in, when I were ready to come off – like a little she-cat you were, desperate to be served. And then, last night’ – he breathed in, complacently – ‘I reckon I gave you all the pleasure that a man can give a woman – and today, when you kept looking at me, then blushing – and hanging round and pressing yourself against me – I knew I could do anything with you today. So I thought, now’s time to tell her, it won’t upset her now – because I knew at first I’d penned you into a corner, and you were a bit frightened of me – wary like – but way you’ve been last couple of days, well, you’re not exactly indifferent to me, are you, Helena?’

  No, I was not indifferent to him – I hated him! I hated him for what he had done to me, for trapping me here on this bed, in this room, in this house, in this town – in this life. Oh God, save me! But there was no God, only a man’s rough, ill-educated voice saying, ‘Well, I suppose it’s all been a bit of a shock to you, lass, so I’ll not expect an answer yet awhile – and I know lasses can be shy. But you mun never think again that you trapped me into wedding you; when I made them vows in that church with you beside me I meant them, every word of them – and I’ll keep them, all the days of me life.’ And his mouth came down and imprisoned mine, just as his ring had imprisoned my body.

  He lifted himself off me and sat up, brisk now. ‘You mun be all hot and sweaty in them clothes, with me jumping up and down on you – even your drawers look worse for wear. Come on, sweetheart, we’ll get you changed into something nice and cool – it’s a fine evening.’ He got up and went to the chest and opened my drawers and began to rummage familiarly through them. ‘Where’s young Letty’s flim-flams, then?’

  I replied, quickly, lyingly, ‘I threw them away.’

  His face dropped for a moment, then he shrugged. ‘Let’s see what else I can find – you have some lovely underthings, Helena – all them silks and satins – I’ll admit to you now that once or twice these last couple of weeks I’ve come up here when you’ve been busy in scullery and run me hands through
’em – just for pleasure of feel of them.’ How dared he, how dared he!

  I watched as he pulled out a pair of wide-legged pink satin knickers, and held them up in his big red hand. ‘You can put these on for starters, lass – so’s I can get a feel of you anytime I want.’ He tossed them on to the bed then drew out a pale-blue silk chemise. ‘There, that’ll do.’ He went over to the alcove and pulled back the curtain and found a jade-green muslin dress. ‘Just the ticket – now, let’s see you get changed.’

  He threw himself down full length on the bed, and lay there in his crumpled shirt and socks. I picked up his choice of clothing as if it would burn my fingers and began to edge round the bed. ‘I’ll go next door.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t, my lass.’ His voice was quite good-humoured, but totally inflexible. ‘I’ve never seen you naked. You take your clothes off in here, where I can watch you.’ Turning my back on him I began to pull off my skirt with shaking fingers, then reached for the pink satin drawers to pull them on under the shelter of my creased petticoat – but he snatched them away from me, laughing. ‘Take everything off first.’

  It seemed a long time before I was naked. ‘Turn round, I want to see your front.’ Slowly I turned round, holding my two hands protectively over my breasts and my belly. ‘Come on lass, drop your hands – I’m your husband, remember.’ So now I was quite unprotected before him, standing with his seed damp between my legs and smeared on my thighs. His eyes roamed over me, and I seemed to stand in front of him for ever. Then he heaved a great sigh. ‘Oh, Helena, you’re beautiful – I never seen anything so beautiful.’

  I whispered, ‘May I get dressed now?’

  ‘Come over here, lass, and I’ll put them on you meself.’ I moved forward very slowly until I stood before him, where he sat on the edge of the bed. He caught hold of my cold hands and pulled my body down over him, and kissed each of my nipples in turn; then bent his head lower and kissed my belly; then, lower still, I felt his lips press against the dark fan of hair between my legs. He stood up and ordered, ‘Raise your arms, Helena.’ He pulled the silk chemise over my head and smoothed it down over my hips. ‘Put your hand on me shoulder, lass, and lift your foot - now the other.’ His fingers slid up over my thighs as he drew on the satin knickers. He pushed down under the elastic and fondled my belly, then the green muslin was put on me. I reached for my suspender belt but his hand on my wrist held me back. ‘No, no stockings tonight, sweetheart, wait for me, just like this.’ He turned and tugged on his own discarded clothing, caught me to him for a moment – then left. As I heard the front door slam I collapsed shaking on to the bed – cold as ice in that, warm room.

  Oh God, what ever had I done? The small bedroom was a prison, and I was trapped in it, like a linnet in a cage. For the first time since I had driven the needle into Robbie’s arm I had regained my right mind; oh my brother, my brother – what have you made me do? In my pain and guilt I came to this man, and now he has locked me in his cage in this alien town. The years ahead stretched before me like a dark tunnel as I thought of his rough accent, his dropped hs, the dark line that never seemed to leave his fingernails – fingernails that were short and broken, because he spent eight hours of every day shovelling coal – and this man held me captive.

  I knew then, in an agony of self-reproach, that I had made my marriage vows carelessly, unbelievingly – in the back of my mind I had seen a way out. Mother would have arranged it, divorce was not so difficult when you had money to pay lawyers. I had been so sure that he was merely doing his duty, discharging a debt incurred years ago in the war when I had refused to allow him to die – and that when the time came he would let me go. But he would never let me go now – for he loved me. He dared to love me – I whom Gerald had honoured with his hand, Gerald my hero, my love, my only true lover. The idea seemed so absurd that I began to laugh – until my laughter turned to deep, racking sobs as I saw again the look on his face as he lay on the bed – and made me stand naked before him. I sat wearing the ridiculous outfit his hands had dressed me in and wept as I remembered how this man had invaded my body and filled my womb – so that even now his seed was oozing stickily out from between my legs.

  At last I stood up and pulled on a jacket over my frozen arms. I had been mad and now I was sane; I must pay with the rest of my life for those weeks of insanity. But the soft sheen of gold caught my eyes, where Eddie’s watch lay on the chest and I knew then, with a total, deadly certainty, that if it had not been for this man I would have had no life to pay with. He had saved me as surely as I had saved him; his debt was cancelled now, but mine was still owing, and I would pay it here, in this small ugly town, among uncouth harsh-voiced strangers, every day of my life.

  I stood up and went through to the back bedroom and began to search for the operatic score. When I found it I shook out the photograph of the three laughing youngsters: two boys and a girl, carefree and unaware. I kissed the pictured faces and put them in a frame, then I took them downstairs and added them to the rest of my past – frozen in time on the top of the polished piano.

  Chapter Seven

  I lived now like a puppet. I cooked and cleaned, and shopped and scrubbed: I washed his clothes and made his bed. I replied when he spoke to me, and gave answers when he questioned me on my small daily doings – but I told him nothing.

  Only my body was alive now; my mind, my heart, my soul were dead. But my body – that remained alive. It ate and drank and carried me back and forth between the terrace and the town. And at night, up in the small bedroom, it wanted him. At first when he had come to bed I had turned my back, pretending to be asleep – I knew he would not force himself upon me now. But it was no use, my body would not be denied and I would wake in the night with a terrible insistent fullness in my belly and turn to him urgently – and he would fill me and give me rest – for a little while. So then I began to put out my arms to him blindly as soon as I felt him heaving his heavy body on to the bed; he never failed me.

  Once he had to go out on a night shift – to work a goods train over into Yorkshire, he told me. I listened apathetically, but that night my body cried out for him in the empty bed. As soon as he came in in the morning I ran to him and he looked at me, with surprise in his red-rimmed eyes; then he shook his head. ‘It’s no use, Helena – I’m worn out.’

  All morning I went mechanically about my daily tasks, aware that he was there, in the bed above me. At lunchtime I crept up the stairs and into the room; he was fast asleep. I took all my clothes off and slid into the bed beside him, twining my bare arms and legs around his sleeping body, pressing my belly against his. He began to stir, as I had known he would, and at last he came heavily over on top of me and began to thrust, as I had known he would. He was already asleep again by the time I pushed him off me and crawled out of the bed.

  That evening as he sat over his meal he said, ‘I had a funny dream today – almost like real it were…’ He watched me, his eyes wary. I felt the blood rise in my cheeks, and he added, heavily, ‘Aye – I reckoned mebbe it weren’t a dream. You can’t go a day without, can you?’ I stood up and took the used plates out to the scullery.

  But outside of the bedroom door there was nothing. Whenever he entered or left the house he put his lips to mine and held them there; I did not move. Once, early on, he came back from the plot while I was in the parlour – he put his arm round me and bent to lift my skirt and I felt his warm hand fumbling between my legs, seeking to get inside my drawers. For a moment my legs opened, but then I turned my eyes and fixed them on Gerald’s photograph and I was able to hold my body rigid until the man dropped his hand and backed away, shamefaced, mumbling some words – of pleading, of apology – I did not know because I did not listen. When he had stumbled to a halt I told him, ‘The bedroom is the place for that – can you not wait another hour?’

  ‘Aye, aye lass – of course – I didn’t mean…’

  I smiled at him, without looking into his eyes, and my voice was honeyed as I promised
, ‘You may have your fill of me in the bedroom, Ben Holden, just as you always do – have I ever denied you there?’

  ‘No, no, lass – you been a good wife.’

  He slunk through into the kitchen and I smiled at Gerald’s face, whispering, ‘Thank you, my darling, thank you.’

  And now I let my mind dwell often on Gerald; I would linger before his photograph, remembering – remembering the first time I had seen him, riding in his shining breastplate and plumed helmet at the head of his troop. I remembered his tall slim figure and smiling eyes as he had greeted me in the pension at Munich, that first Christmas, and I remembered – oh how I remembered – his strong hands propelling me across the ice of the Englischer Garten as I reclined in the carved wooden swan – skimming like a bird over the frozen meadows at his touch. I rode with him again in the shires, and sang to him again before the German Ambassador, and worshipped him as my lost voice soared up to the shadowy beams of the small church at Hammersmith – and then I was happy for a little while. But when he came in, smelling of coal dust and sweat, with his rough awkward voice – then my dreams were broken, and I hated him for what he had done to me.

  I often saw him looking at me strangely, and in the evening he would try to make conversation; I would answer him politely – I was always polite – but he seemed uncertain, dissatisfied. But that night I would close my eyes and reach out for him, and sometimes cry out and writhe and moan and explode under him. Then he would kiss me and say, ‘I love you, Helena, I love you!’ I would turn my face away and shut my ears – but in the morning he would be more cheerful.

  Once the fat woman under the green dome spoke to me. ‘How are you these days, lass? You don’t look quite right, somehow.’ Her big round face was concerned, kindly – and for a moment my eyes filled with tears – but I blinked them away, smiled politely and left. I did not visit the green dome again, though it was difficult, because my body was changing.