Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love

by Roberta Leigh

  Coming out of the bathroom she found Elsie waiting with her breakfast tray.

  "You shouldn't have bothered to bring it up," she protested. "You have quite enough to do."

  "I like looking after you," the girl said, blushing.

  "You're always so polite and — and friendly; Not a bit stuck up!"

  Knowing she was hearing Jess's opinion of herself Stella could not help a wry smile.

  "Will you be leaving the supper to me?" Elsie went on. "I thought I'd make a cheese soufflé to begin with."

  "That sounds fine," Stella spoke automatically, wondering whether or not to tell Elsie she would not be here. Yet something prevented her from doing so, and sipping her coffee she was overcome by such a sense of commitment, that she knew she could not leave today. She had promised Matthew she would lay the foundation stone of his new factory and she intended to keep her word.

  For the rest of the day she forced herself to find things to do. As always when Jess was out of the house the atmosphere lightened, and without a sense of interfering — which she usually felt when her sister-in-law was around — she helped Elsie with the dusting, filled the house with blossom laden branches and laid the table for dinner in the dining-room.

  "H you could ring up and find out what time Mr. Matthew will be home," Elsie said, "I'd know when to put the soufflé in the oven."

  Reluctant to make the call Stella hedged. She had never rung Matthew at his office, and it would be embarrassing to do so now, when he expected her to be halfway to London. But at six o'clock she telephoned the factory gates, and learned that Matthew's car had just left.

  "Then we can have dinner at seven," Elsie said happily. "Is that all right with you?"

  Stella nodded and hurried to her room to change, wondering why she should be so nervous at seeing Matthew. The intimacy of last night had been so fleeting that it was almost as if it had never happened.

  Yet it had. And because of it she would never be the same. She had once read that a woman always remembered the first man who had possessed her. If this were true then the memory of Matthew would stay with her for ever.

  Forcing herself not to think of this she ran downstairs, and was crossing the hall when he came through the front door. He stared in surprise as he saw her. For a long moment they stared at one another. His face was so colourless that the stubble on his cheeks seemed darker, making him look unexpectedly older and tired. His heavy overcoat appeared to weigh him down, for his broad shoulders sagged and his hands hung limply at his sides, but as she watched him his shoulders straightened and his fists clenched, making him look more like his pugnacious self.

  "I thought you would be in London by now."

  "I agreed to lay the foundation-stone for you, and I'll keep my word."

  "There was no need. I didn't expect you to. As I said this morning, after what — after last night you owe me nothing."

  She shrugged. "I promised. Anyway, a few days either way won't make any difference."

  He looked about to reply but changed his mind. "I'll go out for dinner then."

  "There's no need. We're surely adult enough to be able to dine together."

  "I didn't think you… Seeing me must —"

  "Please," she interrupted, "let's not talk about it Dinner's at seven."

  “I’ll be ready."

  Sitting opposite him in the dining-room Stella made an effort to keep up a conversation but Matthew answered monosyllabically, avoiding her eyes and generally looking so uncomfortable that she was finally reduced to silence. Whom did he hate most, she wondered, her or himself? As though aware of what was going through her mind he pushed aside his plate and abruptly got to his feet.

  "Seems I'm not as sophisticated as you," he said jerkily. "In your position I wouldn't be talking to me at all!" .

  Slowly she set her fork on her plate, giving herself time to consider her answer. "Aren't you being old-fashioned about it? We are married, you know, and in the normal course of events…"

  "Nothing's been normal with us! And you can't pretend last night was, either!"

  She looked away, choosing her words with even more care. "I didn't fight you the whole time."

  "I'm aware of that,? he said heavily. "And it makes it worse. I've been thinking of nothing else all day. The way you suddenly gave in… the way you… But it makes me hate myself all the more!" He raised his hands and looked at them with loathing. "I forced you…you had to give in."

  "I — I —" Half-formed sentences, like her half-formed thoughts, died in her throat, and she watched wordlessly as he strode to the door.

  "I'm going out. I don't want anymore to eat"

  Staring at the rums of the meal, Stella decided it would have been better if she had returned to London that day. All she had accomplished by staying here was to make Matthew feel even more guilty towards her than he already did. Angrily she stacked the dishes and took them into the kitchen, forestalling Elsie.

  "Don't bother serving the sweet," she said. "Mr. Matthew had to go out again."

  "Won't you have some?"

  Stella fought against her depression. "Yes, of course. A big helping, Elsie. “I’m hungry."

  Jess came back from Cleethorpes the following day. The change seemed to have done her good and she was more amiable than usual.

  "I've got my outfit for the ceremony tomorrow," she confided over tea. "What are you wearing?"

  "Either a suit or dress and coat — it depends on the weather."

  "I hope it's fine, then. You look well in a suit; you've got the figure for it" Jess poured herself a second cup of tea. "Elsie said your friend was up again. He must like Leeds."

  "He was going north to his uncle's funeral."

  "Oh. Any money left him?"

  The woman's bluntness demanded a blunt reply. "As a matter of, fact, he's come into a fortune."

  "Has he indeed! Pity it didn't happen before. He might have stood a better chance with you."

  "For heaven's sake, don't pick a quarrel! At least let's be civil to each other till I go."

  "You're quick to take offence! I didn't mean to rile you!"

  "Then it's the first time you've done it unintentionally."

  Jess bridled. "Your tongue's been sharpened while I've been away. May I ask when you're going?"

  "The day after tomorrow."

  "In that case we won't have to be civil for long."

  Jess walked out and Stella went over to the piano. But after a few minutes she closed the lid and dropped her hands in her lap. What would happen at Grey Walls when she left? It hurt to know that after her departure everything would go on as if her marriage had never taken place. Matthew would forget her more quickly than she would forget him — for he would not want to remember her. But brooding would not change" things, and with a sigh she wandered out to the garden to try and find something to do.

  The following day was typical late spring, with a pale sun shining brightly over the garden. Matthew came home for an early lunch and at two o'clock they set put for the factory site. He drove the car himself, the speedometer creeping higher and higher until Jess remarked dourly that if he wanted" to be summoned he was going the right way about it.

  Stella was aware of his tension and longed for the ceremony to be over, "Are the men pleased you're building another factory?" she asked.

  "Most of them. One or two aren't."

  "Do you think they'll make trouble?"

  "I'm not worried."

  They drove through the southern outskirts of Leeds, passing the inevitable terraces of brick houses, goods yards and dingy pubs before coming out beyond the steel works and foundries to the wide stretch of road beyond.

  Matthew waved a laconic hand. 'That's my present factory. The new one's a couple of miles down the road."

  She looked at the concrete buildings sprawling for hundreds of yards and felt a thrill of pride that this man should have achieved so much. "It's bigger than I thought. You must be proud of it."

  "What's b
uilt can just as easily be destroyed," he said morosely.

  “ Before she could think of a reply they approached the levelled site of the new factory and crowds of work people made a path for them. A platform had been erected to one side and several bulldozers, idle and muddy, stood in a phalanx-at the far end. The workmen cheered and clapped as Matthew mounted the wooden steps with Stella at his side, and he stepped forward and acknowledged the applause with a wave of his hand.

  She remembered little of the ceremony that followed, only aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at her as the stone was swung into position and she tapped it with a small hammer. Reading the' speech Matthew had written she was acutely conscious of the irony of the words he had given her to say, surprised at her own emotion as she spoke them.

  "It has always been my husband's wish to build the most modern factory in the West Riding, for he believes that the prosperity of the country as a whole depends on the proper development of its industrial areas. For this reason he has planned this extension of his plant, and I am delighted to lay the foundation-stone and wish everyone who works here the best of luck and success."

  Then it was over, and they made their way back to the car amid cheers and handshakes. Matthew stopped to speak to groups of men who stood along the path and had a special smile for a brigade of little boys lustily singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow' with the tuneless bravado of the very young.

  At last they reached the car, and as Matthew got into the driving-seat Ted put his head in at the window. "Glad everything went off so quietly, Matt. I heard this morning that a few of the gang were on the war-path." He turned to Jess. "How about coming home to tea with me? The wife asked me to bring you back."

  "Thanks Ted, but I don't —"

  "Come on, Jess!" He winked at Stella. "It's quite an occasion for Matt — leave him alone with his wife."

  Jess reddened. "All right. But I can't stay long."

  With a cheery wave Ted propelled her to his own car, and Matthew switched on the ignition and steered slowly over the rough path to the road.

  Stella leaned back with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad that's over. I was nervous."

  "You did very well. Thanks for staying to see it through."

  "What did Ted mean about the gang being on the war-path?"

  "Some of the men aren't pleased about the new factory. There are always a few who have different ideas from the rest. He was afraid they'd start trouble."

  "Thank heaven they didn’t."

  He shrugged. "I don't mind a fair fight. Ifs when people hit below the belt that I object."

  Once again she felt the sting of his bitterness. "Even so, you're a born fighter. You'd never give in."

  "Not if it was worth fighting for. Some things aren't."

  They were nearing the old factory and she laid a hand on his arm. "Slow down a bit. I'd like to have a look at it"

  He glanced at her in surprise but took his foot off the accelerator. She gazed curiously at the gaunt structures with their countless windows staring back at her like blind eyes. It was here that Matthew spent so much of his life, here that he had power and responsibilities, and once again she felt how much there was about him that she had failed to understand.

  They passed the last building and he gathered speed. "Well, does it look as imposing at second sight?"

  "Even more so. It's like a kingdom on its own."

  "And I'm the dictator, I suppose?"

  "I didn't mean that. I only meant that there's so much about you I hadn't realized before."

  "Rather sudden, isn't it? I imagined—"

  There was a sudden crash and a splintering of glass. "Matthew!" she screamed. "They're throwing bricks!"

  But it was too late. A large missile came through the driving-window and with a groan Matthew slumped over the wheel.

  Desperately she tried to push him off the steering column but he was too heavy to move and the car lurched drunkenly off the road, careened headlong up an incline and came to a shuddering halt with its nose buried in the bank. All the breath was knocked out of her body and she lay stunned, half off, half on the seat

  She was roused to conscious thought by an ominous crackling, and a spasm of terror gripped her as she saw tongues of flame licking the bonnet Frantically she pulled at Matthew's arm, shouting his name, but he remained inert, and she raised his head from the wheel to see that his face was ashen except for a trickle of blood that ran across his forehead and down one cheek.

  Wildly she pushed at the front doors, but they were both jammed and she clambered over the seat to try the rear ones. To her relief one of them gave way and she fell out on to the grass verge, the car lurching violently as her weight left it. Flames were already scorching the coach-work as she tugged at Matthew's door from the outside. Still the handle would 'not yield and she climbed back again and tried to pull him over the seat Her muscles strained in then- sockets but her strength was not equal to his weight, and feverishly she jumped down and ran to the far side to tug at the other door, sobbing with relief when it flew open.

  It was even more difficult to pull Matthew out from this angle, and she had to drag him inch by inch across the seat With his body half resting on the wheel he was heavy enough, but as she pulled him clear his full weight sagged against her and she fell on to the grass with a sickening thud. It was a long, nightmare moment before she managed to extricate herself from beneath him, but at last she struggled free and with her remaining strength pulled him clear of the flames and rolled him to safety down the incline.

  By now the car was a burning mass of fire, and making sure that Matthew was out of reach of any sparks, she limped slowly up the bank to the road. It was deserted and she sank down on the side and began to cry.

  She was aroused by a squeal of brakes and Ted's voice, urgent with fear. "What's happened, Mrs. Armstrong? Where's Matt?"

  "They hit him," she gasped. "The car ran off the road and caught fire. He's the other side of the bank."

  "Take it easy, lass. It's all right now. Jess, look after Stella, I think she's going to faint. I'll signal another car to fetch an ambulance. If Mart's unconscious we'd best not move him in case he's badly hurt."

  Within twenty minutes Matthew was being driven to Leeds Infirmary and Stella was lying in the back of Ted's car.

  "We'd best get you home," he said.

  "I want to go to the hospital."

  "You can't help Matt any more," Jess interrupted. "He'll be well looked after. But if you're not in bed soon we'll have another casualty on our hands."

  Stella remembered little of her arrival at Grey Walls. The doctor came to bandage Jier swollen ankle and give her a sedative, but she was too overwhelmed for it to take full effect, and she passed the night in fitful sleep.

  It was still barely light when Jess appeared at the door in her dressing-gown. "I wondered whether you were awake," she said gruffly. "You might like to know I 'phoned the hospital. Matt was unconscious all night but the X-rays show nothing and they think it's concussion. Anyway they said he'd be fine in a few days."

  Tears poured down Stella's cheeks and she turned her face into the pillows. "When he slumped over the wheel I thought they'd killed him. It was horrible — I was so frightened, and then the fire… I didn't think I'd get him out in time!"

  "Well you did, so don't fret." Jess bent over her. "You were fine, Stella — Matt owes his life to you.

  Now go back to sleep. It's still early and I'll bring you a cup of tea later on."

  It was two days before the doctor allowed Stella to get up, and she spent the time deciding what to do. The position between herself and Matthew was unchanged: if anything it was worse, for he would feel more under an obligation to her than ever. For his sake she must go, even if the thought of not seeing him again filled her with a sadness as inexplicable as it was unexpected.

  When Jess came to see her on the third morning she was already dressed, her suitcases locked and by the door.

  "So you're going af
ter all?" Jess said. "I wondered if you would change your mind."

  "What's happened hasn't altered the situation."

  "Wouldn't you rather wait and talk to Matthew first?"

  Stella did not look up from collecting her trinkets on the dressing-table. "I thought you would be glad I'm going. It's what you've always wanted."

  "I'll not deny that But if it would make any difference to you and Matt I'd be willing to move out. I've a fancy to live in Cleethorpes near my friends."

  "It's too late to make any difference now," Stella replied steadily. "Matthew will be happier when I have gone."

  Jess shrugged. "I daresay you'll be happier too, with someone of your own sort. Will you see Matt before you leave?"

  "No."

  "Any message for him?"

  "Just that I hope he gets better quickly."

  "Right, I'll tell him." Jess extended her hand. "It's a pity things have turned out the way they have, but thanks for saving Matt's life. He'd probably like to thank you himself… Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

  "Positive, thanks."

  As soon as all her belongings were packed, Stella went downstairs. There was only Elsie to say goodbye to her, waving as the cab moved down the drive. The house seemed warmer and far more friendly when she turned to look back, the bright flowers round the lawns giving it a richness lacking during winter. But she had left no mark upon it, and in a few short hours it would be as if she had never lived there at all.

  She managed to find a corner seat in the train and sat looking out with unseeing eyes as the engine gathered speed and the clackety-clack of the wheels sang a song of no return. This journey was different from all others, an end instead of a beginning, and remembering her lack of understanding with Matthew, she turned away to hide her tears. Of course he had had to return to fight the strike — he was a born fighter and she, his wife, who should have done everything in her power to help him, hztd been the only one to defeat him. Small wonder he wanted her to go!

  She had wired her mother the time of her arrival, but when she reached King's Cross there was no familiar face to greet her and she took a cab straight to Knightsbridge. The front door of the flat was as shabby as ever, and she put her key into the lock with a dull sense of finality. She was home, but with no sense of belonging any more, and she looked around with the critical eye of a stranger, bracing herself as she walked across the hall to the drawing-room.