by Comfort Me
‘But why was he sent to prison?’ Anna had asked.
Jim had replied, ‘To satisfy the venom of a father who couldn’t accept his son for what he was and had to find a scapegoat.’
‘But they know the risks when they choose to live like that,’ Gerald had said and Anna remembered Jim saying, ‘It’s easy for us to talk. Some choose to live like that, others can’t help themselves. Nature has played a cruel trick on them.’
Perhaps I’ll talk to Jim about this, Anna thought, and with a lift of her spirits she remembered Dorrie and Michael will be home tomorrow and Dorrie will be such a comfort to me.
Mrs O’Brien bustled in and put a small table in front of the sofa and laid a cloth on it. Mary followed her with plates of savoury hotpot and Anna was surprised to find that she was hungry.
‘The doctor says food is the best cure in trouble or a glass of brandy. At least, thank God, it’s not needed to cure a broken heart in your case, Anna, although I know you were very fond of Eugene.’
Anna agreed but wondered what Mrs O’Brien would say if she knew how she really felt. At least her pride was intact and as though on cue Mrs O’Brien said, ‘At least no explanations are necessary to other people, Anna. If anyone asks you about him you can just say he’s left the army and gone abroad and you won’t bother corresponding any more.’
‘I see so few people now anyway,’ Anna said. ‘Father will be home in four months’ time. I won’t say anything in my letters and perhaps Dr O’Brien will explain to him.’
‘Of course,’ Mrs O’Brien said warmly. ‘He’s cooled down now, Anna. He didn’t mean that about never speaking of Eugene. He was just so angry, as much on your behalf as anything, but he just said to me that you were a brave girl.’
‘I got most of the shock over on Saturday,’ Anna said. ‘Since then I’ve just been waiting for something to happen and it’s a relief to know the worst. I think I should go home soon if you don’t mind, Mrs O’Brien.’
When they went into the hall a shabby young man stood there twisting his cap in his hands and the doctor was just coming out of the surgery with his bag.
‘Is it Lizzie?’ Mrs O’Brien asked and the young man nodded miserably, while the doctor gripped Anna’s arm.
‘You’re a good, brave girl,’ he whispered. ‘Worth better than that fellow. It will all be for the best. God bless you.’
Anna bent forward and kissed his cheek, unable to speak, and the doctor hurried out with the young man. As she walked home she tried to organise her thoughts. She must have some explanation prepared for her mother but fortunately only three people knew how she really felt about Eugene – Dorrie, Isabel and James Hargreaves. With other people she could assume indifference.
She tried to concentrate on details to keep at bay the pain of loss and rejected love which she knew was waiting to overwhelm her. She would write a carefully worded letter to Isabel and tell her the details when she saw her in a few weeks’ time. She would be able to talk of it to James too, knowing that he would understand and comfort her.
Best of all, tomorrow Dorrie would be home. At the thought, she quickened her steps and when she arrived home her aunt welcomed her. ‘I’m glad to see you. Your mother’s been asking for you every five minutes.’
‘But I left her with plenty—’ Anna began but her aunt interrupted.
‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about her clothes. Wants you to look something out for her.’ Clara suddenly looked searchingly at Anna. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘No more dizzy spells?’ When Anna shook her head she said, ‘You look pale. Don’t do too much running up and down.’
Anna blundered up the stairs, blinded by tears. Kindness from her aunt was so unexpected that she was nearly undone but her mother soon redressed the balance. Anna was kept so busy that the evening went quickly and she had no time to think of what had happened or even to think of Dorrie’s arrival the next day.
Alone in her bedroom, she resolutely crushed any thought of Eugene. She was determined that she would not greet her sister with her face blotched and swollen by crying but continue to put a brave face on things until she was alone with Dorrie. On Friday delays on the railway meant that Dorrie and Michael arrived so late with Dorrie so exhausted that they retired to bed almost immediately.
The next morning Dorrie’s welcome was as warm and affectionate as ever but as she hugged and kissed Anna she gave no hint that she knew about Eugene. Perhaps she knew nothing of it, Anna thought, but later, when they were alone, Dorrie said petulantly, ‘We’re very annoyed about this business with Eugene. It’s very embarrassing for us because everybody knows Michael is related to him, even though only as a cousin.’
‘You know, then?’ Anna gasped.
‘Of course we know. Everybody knows, the whole camp. But of course Eugene didn’t think about us. He did what suited himself, without a thought for anyone else. I must say, Anna, I don’t understand why you didn’t realise what he was.’ She looked at herself in the mirror and turned a curl round her finger.
‘I know his courtship was very lukewarm compared to Michael’s but surely you must have realised that there was something wrong, Anna.’
‘You may be very worldly wise now, Dorrie,’ Anna said with dignity, ‘but when we met them you knew as little as I did about these – these problems some men have.’
They were sitting on the side of Anna’s bed and their eyes met in the mirror. Dorrie turned and flung her arms around her sister.
‘Oh, Anna, it must be so hard for you,’ she said. ‘But at least nobody knows about it here, do they? In London it’s terrible. The jokes! I don’t understand most of them but I know they’re nasty. Michael says ignore them but I can’t. I can’t bear people to laugh at me.’
She wept and Anna said gently, ‘It will only be a nine-day wonder. Something else will take its place.’
‘That’s what Michael says. He’s being so brave, Anna, because I know people are looking at him and wondering, especially as we haven’t started a family yet.’ She sat up and wiped her eyes, then said angrily, ‘I’m determined not to have a family until we have a better place to live and I’m not going to be pushed into it just to prove them wrong.’
Anna said nothing, chiefly because she could think of nothing to say. She felt completely out of her depth. Dorrie’s confident and knowledgeable attitude seemed totally different to that of the few girls she knew when they married and to Dorrie’s own attitude before she married.
She could recall Dorrie saying one night as they discussed the wedding, ‘I wonder if we’ll have any babies? I’d love a little boy just like Michael but, Anna, I couldn’t bear it if I was like poor Mama, losing my babies.’ She remembered comforting Dorrie, telling her she was young and healthy, not like Mama. How she had changed!
She managed to stifle her disappointment at being unable to discuss her feelings with Dorrie, as Dorrie went on to ask why her mama and aunt had quarrelled.
‘I don’t know,’ Anna said. ‘Nelly has tried hard to find out but she hasn’t been able to.’
‘It’s not Nelly’s place to pry into the family affairs. Perhaps Mama will tell me,’ Dorrie said confidently.
‘Perhaps,’ Anna said dryly. She stood up. Her desire to be alone with Dorrie had gone or at least with this stranger who seemed to have taken the place of the Dorrie she knew and loved.
‘I need to check on things in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Michael wants to go to see the O’Briens,’ Dorrie said, ‘but I had quite enough of them driving from the station. He can go alone and I’ll go and make Mama happy.’
With a final complacent look in the mirror, she walked out of the room with Anna.
Anna was surprised to find Michael sitting by the kitchen table. He stood up when she came in.
‘I thought you’d gone to see your aunt and uncle,’ Anna said.
He replied quietly, ‘I wanted to see you alone, Anna. To say how sorry I am about th
e way things have turned out. I should have warned you but I honestly didn’t know, Anna. I feel I’ve failed you.’
‘You mustn’t feel that, Michael. I’m sorry that you and Dorrie are having so much trouble through no fault of your own.’
‘She told you then?’ Michael said. ‘There’s always jangle and gossip flying round but sure she imagines half of it or her and the Rafferty woman build it up between them.’
Anna was surprised by the bitterness in his voice and she said quietly, ‘You think Mrs Rafferty’s a bad influence on Dorrie then?’
Michael shrugged. ‘I think Dorrie needed her at first. I was glad she took her under her wing, told her what to do and warned off some of the other women, but now! Every notion in her head is second-hand from Mrs Rafferty.’
‘I think she’s changed,’ Anna said. ‘Of course, she’s only been home such a short time. Perhaps it’s too soon to judge.’
‘No, you’re right. Dorrie has changed,’ Michael said sadly.
‘What’s she like, Mrs Rafferty?’ Anna said curiously.
Michael shrugged. ‘Typical army wife, I suppose. She’s been around, seen the world, but I don’t like some of her views or the way Dorrie just swallows them. I think she’s learning a lot she’d be better off not knowing but I don’t know what I can do about it.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ Anna comforted him. ‘It’s all new and strange to her but underneath she’s still Dorrie. This will pass.’
She was moving around, preparing the meal, and Michael said, ‘Thanks, Anna. I won’t get in your way any longer. I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t a part of any of Eugene’s tricks. He fooled me too but I shouldn’t have let him. I should have protected you.’
Anna stretched up and kissed his cheek. ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ she said, ‘and don’t worry any more about me. I’m all right, but thanks, Michael.’
He smiled at her and picked up his cap. ‘I’ll go to see my aunt and uncle then,’ he said, and went out.
Anna reflected that Michael had changed too. His happy-go-lucky exuberance had gone but he was still an affectionate and cheerful man with good principles and a warm heart.
Dorrie was still with her mother and remained with her until Michael returned and the meal was ready. Anna hoped that they were not discussing Eugene. If her mother discovered what had happened her life would not be worth living, she thought. The possibilities for cruel comments from her mother would be endless and the fact that she knew nothing of the situation had been the one bright spot so far for Anna.
Nothing was said about it during the meal, however, or later when they sat in the drawing room with coffee. Michael asked about the Jensons and Dorrie chattered about the social life among the army wives, with plentiful references to Mrs Rafferty.
Anna felt that the day from which she had hoped for so much would never end but at least she was able to escape to her own room. She was wearily taking pins from her hair when the door opened and Dorrie looked in. ‘I just came to say goodnight. Michael hasn’t come up yet,’ she said and Anna eagerly moved to sit on the bed, her heart lifting.
They kissed and hugged each other and Dorrie began to talk about the Jenson tragedy. ‘I know how you must miss Isabel,’ she said, ‘and the little boys too. Captain Jenson was such a lovely man. It has really upset Mama.’ For a while she seemed like the old Dorrie but soon she returned to the subject of Eugene and not in the way that Anna wished.
Anna longed to tell her of the love and pity she felt for Eugene and of his struggles, expecting Dorrie to be sympathetic to him, but all that her sister felt, it seemed, was curiosity. ‘Did you never suspect what he was, Anna, truly?’ she asked.
‘How could I? I knew nothing of that and neither did you, Dorrie. Remember how we used to wonder if he had an unhappy love affair in his past? Poor Eugene.’
‘Poor Eugene!’ Dorrie exclaimed, her voice rising. ‘I don’t know how you can say that, Anna. He’s just a pervert, Mrs Rafferty says, and your woman’s instinct should have warned you. Ugh! To be—’
Before she could say any more the door was flung open and Michael rushed in and roughly pulled Dorrie to her feet.
He bent over her, his face red with temper. ‘Don’t you dare use that word to Anna,’ he said, quietly but ferociously. ‘I don’t want to hear it on your lips again. Do you hear me?’
‘I was only saying—’ Dorrie began but he interrupted.
‘I heard what you were saying. Anybody who passed the door could have heard. I thought you were supposed to love your sister?’
‘I do, I do,’ Dorrie wailed. ‘I do, Anna.’
‘Then you’ve got a damn queer way of showing it,’ he said. ‘You’d better say goodnight and come away before you do any more damage.’ He turned to Anna. ‘I’m sorry, Anna, you’ve been subjected to Mrs Rafferty’s peculiar ideas. Try to ignore them. She’s just an ignorant woman.’
He had released his grip on Dorrie and he said goodnight to Anna and went to the door but he turned back to say to his wife, ‘I hope you remembered what I said about saying nothing to your mother or your aunt.’
‘I didn’t mention him,’ she said sulkily then sat down by Anna again as he went out.
‘I didn’t know Michael had such a temper,’ Anna said, smiling to make light of the incident, but Dorrie said angrily, ‘Neither did I but he’s been showing it lately. He doesn’t like Mrs Rafferty. Says she encourages me to flirt.’
‘And does she?’ Anna said bluntly.
Dorrie shrugged. ‘I can’t help it if men find me attractive,’ she said. ‘Especially if you saw some of their dowdy old wives. I can still twist Michael round my little finger, though.’
‘I’ll say goodnight, Dorrie,’ Anna said. ‘It’s been a long day.’
She felt that she could stand no more and Dorrie kissed her goodnight and left. Anna crawled into bed feeling that her head would burst but exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.
The next morning, Sunday, Anna was up early, but there was no sign of the previous night’s quarrel when Dorrie and Michael came downstairs. The November morning was dry but cold and when they all set off for ten o’clock Mass Dorrie carried a large white muff with white fur framing her face.
When they reached the end of Westbourne Street Anna saw James Hargreaves approaching as usual down Eastbourne Street. He bowed and raised his hat before hurrying ahead of them and Dorrie turned to Anna with a complacent smile.
‘You told him I was coming home,’ she said. ‘How cleverly he timed that meeting.’
She gave a trill of laughter, looking up at Michael, and he said, ‘An admirer, I suppose.’
‘One of them,’ Dorrie said airily.
Anna was tempted to tell her that she met James every Sunday but she thought bitterly, Why bother? For the first time she saw an affinity between Dorrie and their mother. They had always been alike in appearance but now she saw in Dorrie the same capacity for self-delusion. These thoughts made her feel better but not really in a suitable mood for church.
James was at the back of the church with the other collectors and Dorrie smiled radiantly at him as she passed him but he was not too dazzled to smile at Anna behind her.
After Mass they were greeted by various friends and neighbours but to Dorrie’s disappointment they were not surrounded by the usual group of young men and girls.
‘Many of them are married or courting now,’ Anna told her.
They spoke to Kate and Jim Deagan and Dr and Mrs O’Brien. Before they approached the doctor and his wife, Michael bent down to Dorrie and Anna heard him say quietly but forcefully, ‘Remember. Watch your tongue.’
Dorrie was on her best behaviour, smiling sweetly and speaking about Lord Roberts to the doctor, which pleased him.
Mrs O’Brien greeted Anna warmly and looked searchingly at her. ‘How do you feel, my dear?’ she asked. ‘Are you enjoying the visit? I’m sure you are.’
‘She’s cooking grand meals for us and workin
g very hard,’ Michael said. ‘We’re very lucky.’ He smiled down at Anna and Mrs O’Brien said, ‘I’m glad you’re appreciated, Anna.’
Dorrie turned to them. ‘Oh, she is,’ she said, linking her arm through Anna’s, but Anna felt unable to respond as they all walked home together, leaving the doctor and his wife in Shaw Street.
Dorrie announced that she and Michael must visit Mrs Wendell and Anna asked her to slip in to see Mrs Deagan. Her mother had been in favour of the visit to Mrs Wendell but she said pettishly, ‘I don’t see why you have to waste time at the Deagans’, Dorrie. I’m seeing little enough of you.’
Anna looked on in disgust, thinking cynically that Mrs Deagan had no fortune to leave.
For the first time, Anna was pleased when the visit ended and she waved Dorrie and Michael off with relief when they set off for Ireland on Monday. She felt that she needed time and space to sort out in her mind all that had happened with Dorrie, quite apart from the need to come to terms with the event concerning Eugene.
At the end of all the thinking and remembering and musing she was left with one inescapable fact. She still loved Eugene and she always would. She also decided that from now on she would use her own judgement and not rely for comfort or advice on anyone else, although she still appreciated the kindness shown to her by Dr and Mrs O’Brien.
This experience had made her feel older and wiser, and better able to deal with whatever happened in the future, so it was not wasted, she decided.
Chapter Fifteen
During the week that Dorrie and Michael were in Ireland and Anna was arranging her thoughts, James Hargreaves was also facing the fact that his unrequited love was as strong as ever. He thought he had resigned himself to the fact that as a married woman she was lost to him, and he could keep her memory enshrined without feeling any pain, but he realised he had been deluding himself.
He had only to see her beautiful face and to receive such a warm and encouraging smile to feel all the old pain coming flooding back. He decided to go to a different Mass when she returned the following weekend but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.