by Iris Gower
‘You have already bled quite profusely,’ the doctor continued. ‘We shall have to take care that the miscarriage is complete, we don’t want you suffering complications, do we?’
The pain came quite suddenly, rocketing through her, contracting her muscles. She bit her lip to silence the scream but it was no use, she heard her own voice crying out in agony.
Paul leaned closer, his eyes anxious. ‘Doctor,’ he said, over his shoulder, ‘can you give her something for the pain?’
‘It will be over all the sooner if I don’t sedate her.’ The doctor’s voice was low but Bridie caught what he said.
‘I don’t want anything, do you understand?’ Her words were taut with the effort she was making to control her pain. ‘I want this sorry business over and done with as soon as possible.’
It was not an easy matter to accomplish, this rejection by her body of her child. The agony seemed interminable. Bridie began to fear for her very life, she was weak, she knew she could fight no longer, her life’s blood was flowing away. Paul, the doctor, the solid walls of the room were fading from her sight and she gave herself up to the welcome darkness.
The beach was silent except for the sound of gulls wheeling overhead. A cormorant stood poised on a rocky promontory, indistinct, a shadowy blur in the autumn haze.
Ellie felt young again, she had taken off her shoes and stockings and her bare toes dug into the warm softness of the sand. Her fair hair was lifted away from her face by the salt breeze, by her side was Daniel and she was rapidly falling in love with him.
Ellie leaned back against the warm ruggedness of a rock and turned, allowing herself to meet his eyes. His expression was warm, admiring and yet there was a sort of sadness about him today that worried her.
‘How’s work at the newspaper going?’ She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his mouth on hers but here she was making polite conversation.
‘It’s fine,’ Daniel looked down at her and shifted his position so that he was closer to her. ‘Miss Smale is a great boss, I’m lucky to be working for her. I even had a childish fancy for her once but that was before I met you.’
A shadow of guilt fell on Ellie’s happiness. ‘Arian is a very clever lady.’ She meant the words but they rang hollowly on the salty air. Arian knew all about Ellie’s past, all about her affair with Calvin, would she have spoken of it to Daniel? But no, that was not Arian’s style, she did not indulge in gossip herself even though she allowed it in the pages of her newspaper. And yet, Daniel would have to know, he deserved the truth.
Ellie sighed, looking up at the cloudless sky, not wanting to spoil the moment, uttering a prayer to God for forgiveness for holding her happiness to her for a little while longer.
‘Why the sigh?’ Daniel took her hand in his and held her fingers as though he was examining each one in detail. Ellie was ashamed, her hands were still calloused even though she had not worked in the grinding house since some time after Jubilee’s funeral. She tried to draw away but he held her fast.
‘There’s such a lot you don’t know about me.’ The words fell softly in contrast to the harsh screaming of the birds but Daniel heard them.
‘I know all I want to know,’ he said, ‘I know that you are good and kind, the sort of girl I would be honoured to have as a wife.’
‘No.’ She must speak, it wasn’t fair to Daniel to let him labour under a misapprehension about her. ‘I’m not good at all, I’ve been foolish and wrong in the past and I’ve kept the truth from you, may God forgive me.’
‘You needn’t say anything,’ Daniel’s voice was firm, ‘nothing would make me change my mind about you, Ellie.’
Realization dawned on her. ‘You know. You know all about me.’
He nodded. ‘Of course I know, Ellie, but you need make no excuses, the past is over and done with. I can see with my own eyes what you are really like.’ He leaned closer. ‘I know this isn’t the time, you are still in mourning but what I said just now, I meant, I would be honoured to have you for my wife.’
A warmth flooded through Ellie’s limbs and rose to her face, she knew she was blushing with pleasure and happiness. She clung to his hand and fought back the tears. ‘You are wonderful, Daniel, I don’t deserve the friendship of anyone so fine as you.’
‘Nonsense!’ He was embarrassed and pleased at the same time and he was very young, did he really understand everything she wondered uneasily?
‘Daniel, you do know that I was . . .’ her words were silenced by the finger he placed over her lips.
‘It makes no difference what you were,’ he said evenly. ‘You are now what life’s experiences have made you, a loving and generous spirit.’
The tears came fast then, rolling hugely down her cheeks and into her mouth. She covered her face with her hands like a child and, as though she was a child, Daniel took out his handkerchief and dried the tears.
‘I love you, Ellie,’ his voice was little more than a whisper, ‘I love you so very much.’
They sat together until the sun’s warmth was cooled by the evening breeze and the birds cried on the outgoing tide as they searched for food. Then Daniel took her hand, helped her to rise, watching as she brushed the sand from her feet. He took up her shoes and put them on for her and hand in hand they set back up the steep slope to where Martha was waiting for them.
In the distance, a figure hovered, waiting, watching. Matthew Hewson stood on the slope of sand, his hands clenched in fury, the couple had done nothing more than talk together. And yet, he would store the touching little scene away in his mind, some day, some time, it might just come in useful.
Bridie came awake slowly, the brightness of the day hurt her eyes and she closed them against the glare, hardly daring to move in case she found herself in the grip of unbearable pain. But there was no sensation in her lower limbs at all. She tried to sit up but found she couldn’t move. In panic, she opened her eyes and saw that the dazzling white sensation she had experienced was caused by the sun on the pristine white walls of an unfamiliar room. She was in hospital.
Cautiously she turned her head, on the chest at her side stood a brass bell. Tentatively, she reached out her hand towards the chest. The ringing of the bell hurt her ears, she dropped it quickly and it rolled along the floor like a wounded bird.
‘Mrs Marchant, you’re awake, that’s very good, very good indeed.’ The nurse was tall and clad in a voluminous white apron that crackled starchily as she moved. ‘Pulse is stronger, good sign, good sign.’ She jerked at the sheets and straightened them even though they weren’t creased.
‘I’m Sister Michaels, Dr Carpenter will be here in a little while, he’s a very clever man, just come to us from another hospital and we are very fortunate to have him. He’ll put your mind at rest, you’ll see,’ she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘I’ll just go and tell him you’re awake.’
‘Nurse, wait,’ Bridie scarcely recognized her own voice, ‘what’s happening to me, why can’t I move my legs?’
‘Doctor will tell you all about it in just a moment, no need to worry, no need at all.’ The woman had an irritating habit of repeating herself and Bridie wished she was strong enough to give her the sharp edge of her tongue. As it was, she watched helplessly as the nurse left the room and closed the door behind her.
Impotently, Bridie stared at the closed door, how dare the woman treat her so cavalierly, didn’t she know that Bridie owned the biggest shipping fleet this side of the Bristol channel?
Her mouth was dry, she was desperate for a drink of water. Her tongue darted over her lips, they felt cracked and sore and even such a small effort wearied her. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come, would take away the doubts and the frightening questions that ran through her mind. But she didn’t sleep, instead, she lay quiet, waiting, trying to summon some inner strength she felt instinctively that she would need.
It was a relief when the door opened and Dr Carpenter entered the room. Eddie Carpenter was
a big man with an air about him that inspired confidence. The hair of his sideburns was silver, his kindly eyes were prematurely furrowed with lines, he was a man who knew suffering intimately.
Bridie suddenly brought to mind the awful scandal that had swept Swansea when the doctor’s daughter, his only child, had been found murdered in an hotel room, killed by the maniac Gerald Simples. She knew she was putting off the moment when the questions and answers would begin but she was so frightened. And where was Paul? She needed him here, now.
‘Mrs Marchant,’ the doctor seated himself on the chair beside her bed, he looked grave. ‘Had I known you would regain consciousness this morning I’d have asked your husband to be present, as it is, it might be just as well for me to tell you about my findings now, do you agree?’
For a moment, Bridie hesitated, what was worse, knowing the truth or waiting in an agony of the unknown? She made up her mind.
‘Tell me your findings by all means, Doctor, it is bad news, isn’t it?’
He paused for a moment, head bowed, it was as if he was selecting his words with care. ‘You know you suffered a miscarriage, you lost your child, a grievous thing to happen to any parent.’ He swallowed and then took a deep breath. ‘What you don’t know is that there have been some complications.’
Bridie forced herself to speak. ‘What sort of complications? I need to know, Dr Carpenter.’
‘A small operation was performed, not by me of course but by one of our surgeons, a very eminent man. You came out of that very well indeed, nothing wrong with your health that a little rest and recuperation won’t cure.’
‘But?’ Bridie’s voice was a little stronger now, ‘And there is a but. Don’t beat about the bush, please tell me what’s happened.’ Small wings of fear beat at her brain. She knew what had happened.
‘I’m paralysed.’ The words fell dully, like stones into the silence. ‘That’s it isn’t it?’ She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. ‘Is it a permanent condition?’
Eddie Carpenter took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. There is nothing physically wrong that we can discover, this is a nervous disease. Hopefully, with rest and gentle exercise you will find the use of your limbs returning but at this stage it’s impossible to make any firm prognosis.’
‘This thing is all in my mind, then, is that what you are saying? In that case, surely there is the possibility that I might walk again?’
‘There can be no guarantees in medicine,’ he was prevaricating, ‘but you are a normally fit and healthy lady, there is no reason why, in time you can’t live a full and useful life.’
‘But I won’t be able to walk,’ Bridie said coldly, ‘at least not unless a miracle should occur and miracles are hard to come by aren’t they Doctor?’
She wanted to lash out and hurt him as his words had hurt her. ‘You couldn’t save your own child, could you, so why should I expect you to put yourself out to save me?’
He rose abruptly, his colour ebbing. Bridie could see him struggling for composure and the thought gave her a feeling of release. Let him hurt, just as she was hurting at this moment. Why should she be the one to suffer alone? What had she ever done to deserve such a punishment?
‘I’ll leave you now to rest,’ his tone was measured. ‘I hope to contact your husband soon, I’ve left a message for him both at home and at the shipping office though I believe he is at sea at this precise moment.’
So Paul had gone and left her when she had most needed him, how she hated him, how she hated everyone in that bitter moment.
‘Very kind of you to concern yourself,’ her voice was edged with sarcasm. ‘But then it’s quite easy to do things when you are not confined to a bed for ever more isn’t it?’
‘Mrs Marchant, Bridie, I know you feel dreadful just now, it’s only natural but you will come to terms with your condition, I promise you. In time, you will learn to make the best of it, after all you have a good constitution, you have a comfortable home, enough money to ensure that you need never work again, please, try to count your blessings.’
‘Don’t patronize me.’ Bridie was outraged. ‘How dare you offer me platitudes which wouldn’t convince a five year old child. I’m young, I want to live my life normally not as a cripple, can’t you even begin to understand that?’
His shoulders sagged, he shook his head in defeat. ‘I’ll leave you now, give you a chance to think and be quiet. A prayer or two might not go amiss if that is your way.’
‘A prayer! You must be mad. What have I got to pray about, should I thank God for making me a cripple then? Oh, go away and leave me alone.’
The door closed quietly behind him and Bridie stared up at the cracks in the white-washed ceiling. What hope did she have of holding Paul’s interest now? Oh, he would pretend of course, on the surface he would be a loving, caring husband but when he was away from her, he would behave just like the ram he was. She stared at the surface cracks on the ceiling, at the small panes of glass in the window, concentrating on anything in an effort to take her mind off the dreadful picture of the future that stretched before her.
‘Oh God!’ She clenched her hands into fists and waved them above her head. ‘Why me? I’m so young, I have children who need me, I can’t live as a cripple for the rest of my life, I just can’t.’ She turned her face to the wall and wept.
It was two weeks later when Bridie was able to return to her own home. Paul had returned from sea and was there to lift her into the carriage, carefully covering her legs with a warm rug because she was shivering in spite of the warmth of the late slant of sun.
She felt ashamed of her weakness, marked out from the rest of humanity, someone to be looked at as an object of pity. She bit her lip as Paul seated himself beside her, she would show them, show them all that Bridie Marchant was still a force to be reckoned with.
‘I want a detailed list of all your sailings.’ She spoke to Paul as though he was a stranger in her employ and he turned his head to look at her in surprise.
‘What?’ His voice had an edge to it, his patience and consideration had apparently vanished.
‘I intend to be in control of everything.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘I can’t stop you whoring around with other women, oh, don’t protest your innocence, I know you too well Paul, but what I can stop is the expenditure of my money on your doxies.’
‘You are mistaken, Bridie, there’s no-one.’ Paul attempted to be firm but his voice lacked conviction.
She sighed heavily. ‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Paul.’ She paused listening to his breathing, loving him and hating him at the same time. ‘I know you are having some sort of liaison with that trollop Ellie Hopkins, I know you had meetings with her in Ireland so don’t lie. You are in love with her, you wish you were free to marry her, especially now that she’s a rich widow. But I’ll never let you go, Paul, never.’
Paul took her hand. ‘You are obsessed with this woman and you couldn’t be more wrong about her, she is not the sort to indulge in a casual liaison.’
‘Oh, I see, you are defending her now. Well you don’t fool me, not for one moment.’
‘Bridie, I’ve sworn to you that I have never touched Ellie Hopkins, not in that way.’
‘And yet you bought leather from her, a pitifully small supply of it at that, how do you explain that?’
For a moment, Paul seemed at a loss, he shook his head and sank back into the shadows of the coach. ‘I promise you, Bridie, on my sacred oath that I am not involved with Ellie Hopkins in any way except that of doing business with her company.’
‘You would say anything to prove me wrong,’ Bridie said harshly. ‘What profit is there in transporting such a small load, answer me that?’ Bridie was determined to pursue the point. She clenched her hands into her lap and waited to hear Paul’s lies.
‘It was a favour for a colleague in Ireland,’ he spoke at last, his voice heavy. ‘He needed some tack, I don’t know why he wanted it from me but I wished to oblige him.’
‘And you repeated this favour, several times over the past months. Who is this colleague? It all sounds very thin to me.’ Her voice was scathing and she felt Paul recoil.
‘Bridie, I will not have you speaking to me in that tone of voice.’ He spoke quietly so that his words carried even more weight. ‘I am not a child and even though I am making allowances for your illness I cannot endure such an attitude. I ran my own shipping fleet very successfully for many years alone before I met you, I can run it alone again, if needs be.’ He paused for breath, obviously he was choosing his words carefully. ‘I cannot and will not have you questioning my every move in this way, I cannot allow you to undermine my authority with the men of my fleet, do you understand?’
Bridie felt a trickle of fear at his words, Paul’s meaning was clear, they could work together or each go their separate ways, it was up to her. She decided for the moment to capitulate.
‘Of course you must run your own business as you see fit,’ she said, ‘I’m only thinking of you, such small loads are scarcely worth dealing with, are they?’
‘Not in immediate financial terms, I suppose,’ Paul agreed, ‘but what you must take into consideration, Bridie, is the good will of the customer. A little bit of co-operation oils the wheels. Perhaps that’s something you should think about.’
The carriage jolted to a halt and Bridie realized she was home. She made to rise, forgetting in that instant that she was unable to move without help. Her leaden limbs refused to function and she put her hands over her face in sudden despair, hating herself for the weakness of tears.
‘It’s all right, my love,’ Paul was all concern, it was rarely he saw her like this, soft and vulnerable. He put his arms around her and held her close.
‘You are my wife, mother of my sons, you will always be my first consideration, remember that. Of course I have a part of my life in which you have no share, that is inevitable, but it is you I come home to from the sea, that will never change.’