Cupidity

by Lucinda Lamont

  She continued to hold Mae’s clasp and mouthed ‘I know,' and the two women embraced. As they did Martha let out a silent tear. She was afraid of what was around the corner, but she knew she had to do this.

  David stayed with her that night, as he had been doing recently. They lay in bed and he stroked her constantly, which she found irritating on this particular evening. She didn’t normally, but she was not relaxed at all, the evenings events had her head in a spin. She felt aggrieved about being pushed into living with David. She wished she could go back three years and be with her Johnny. She didn’t know why, or how, her life had become so messy, and when it became so self-pitying. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve any of it.

  The whole time she was beating herself up, David was stroking her hair then her face, then her arms and then her stomach talking about his own excitement at being a dad one day.

  At this moment in time, she couldn’t care less.

  She just wanted happiness. She didn’t want to be in a forced romance. She didn’t want to watch her friends play out false happiness in front of her, knowing full well that she was broken, and he was an egotistical bastard. She felt like, if David wasn’t with her now, she could break down and burst into tears.

  The good thing about David was that he never knew how she was feeling. The bad thing about being with David was that, he never knew how she was feeling.

  ‘Martha, will you and Willy move in with me now? If Mae and Peter have another one coming, another baby I mean, then it’s probably time to move out?’

  He continued to stroke her body, any piece of skin which he could touch. Martha was staring at the ceiling feeling empty and cold than she had done in a very long time.

  ‘Yes, I think it’s time we did.’

  She rolled over and kissed him. He, in a delighted euphoria, kissed her heavily and began to remove her nightgown.

  She allowed him and let him believe she was interested, but her mind couldn’t have been further away.

  Chapter 16

  Martha hadn’t slept well that night and thus, was the first one up in the house.

  She got washed and dressed quietly and went downstairs. She was quite glad to be on her own now that she thought about it. She sat out on the backdoor step.

  It was a crisp, typically May spring day. The skies were clear and all was still. Martha was just sitting there, looking around and taking deep, meaningful breaths. She wasn’t thinking of anything. Her mind was completely clear. She wished her mind was this quiet more often, but it seemed so rare. She was so deep in this moment of newly found clarity that she hadn’t heard Peter come downstairs and into the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve made you a coffee.’

  He handed it to her, looked up the garden and inhaled deeply. The small garden had a low brick wall edging around it, separating the little patch of grass from a concrete area, immediately by the back door. There was a concrete path to the right of the lawn running all the way to the top of the garden. It wasn’t a particularly pretty garden, but it wasn’t too much work either.

  Peter sat on the wall so that he was facing Martha as she sat in the doorway. Peter never made Martha coffee. In fact, he didn’t share his precious coffee supply with anyone, as it had been so difficult to get hold of any during these times of rations.

  ‘And to what do I owe this surprising act of generosity?’ Martha accepted the mug of warm coffee and cradled it in her hands to warm them.

  ‘I just thought you might like one. No one else is up, so I didn’t have to spare much of it.’

  They both chuckled at his confession.

  ‘Why are you up so early? Have you been awake long?’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep. I just decided to get up in the end. I’ve been down here for about half an hour.’

  ‘A lot on your mind eh? I know that feeling.’

  The conversation wasn’t flowing. The two of them were awkward.

  They both went to speak at the same time.

  ‘Martha, allow me, please. I don’t know what to say about what has been happening. I just… I mean… ’

  ‘You don’t need to explain Peter. You didn’t act alone. I’m moving out this week anyway so let’s just put the whole thing behind us, and hope that it never comes out.’

  ‘Moving out? Where? Why?’

  ‘I’m moving in with David. It’s for the best. You and Mae need space to be together as a family and let’s face it, it really is a good idea. We’ve been fools.’

  Peter lit up a cigarette and slowly walked around the garden. Neither of them said another word. They did glance at each other a few times.

  If Martha caught David’s stare, she would look away, but he seemed to want her to look right into her eyes.

  The sound of life was coming from upstairs. The rest of the house was stirring. Peter threw his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with conviction before heading back into the house.

  He was trying to deliver a message to Martha.

  He wasn’t happy.

  It annoyed her when he became like this. She didn’t know what is was that he wanted or expected. Peter turned on the wireless and began preparing breakfast for everyone. He didn’t usually do that, but he obviously wanted to keep busy this morning.

  Mae came down beaming from ear to ear and wished everyone a good morning. Martha reciprocated the greeting, while Peter pecked his wife on the cheek. Mae moved around the room as if she was gliding almost. Pregnancy suited her. She turned off the wireless and Peter snapped.

  ‘Turn that back on at once; I was listening to it. We are expecting an announcement from Winston Churchill shortly.’

  Mae seemed genuinely upset about being snapped at by Peter. Martha thought it was probably the hormones, although she knew it was more than that.

  ‘I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realise.’

  Mae looked as though she could cry. Peter instantly went to his wife and comforted her. He hadn’t done that much since Martha had been with them.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just today is a big day. It’s looking more and more like the end of this ghastly war and we are expecting an announcement that the Germans have surrendered and left Italy today. I just really want to hear it.’

  He pulled out of the embrace and took her head in his hands. He stared into her eyes and kissed her on the nose and then the cheeks and then the mouth. At this point, the two young boys came bounding down the stairs and David followed behind them.

  ‘Anyway, my love, I have started preparing breakfast, so you don’t need to do much.’

  He sat down at the table and took his place as man of the house. Mae and Martha picked up where Peter had left off. David joined Peter at the table.

  ‘It’s nice seeing you two so romantic. I hope me and my Martha will be like that in as many years.’

  Peter ignored David and pretended to be watching the boys play out of the window.

  Martha had been watching the men and David looked around at her. She smiled at him and decided not to say anything, as he would only be embarrassed, but they both knew Peter had heard him loud and clear.

  The breakfast was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  Officer Pembrooke had called around to follow up on the meeting at the village hall the night before. Martha analysed him as he explained what the latest was, to everyone sitting around the table. She thought how hard his job must be. There was so much expectation placed on his person and that’s all he was, a person. He couldn’t create results out of thin air. It had to be fact. People are so quick to speak poorly of the police and judge them she thought, but how good would they be at it? Finding clues? Working tirelessly. Giving something, anything to the public just to reassure them. It was not an easy job, and Martha had the upmost respect for the police.

  Peter, not so much. If Peter were to be reincarnated, he would be a peacock. Full of himself and not as attractive as he thought. He seemed to get a kick out of belittling people. He would
n’t be where he is now if it wasn’t for his family background.

  Martha began to wonder what it was she ever saw in him. In front of her now she has Peter, who is being deceitful to his wife and taking Martha just because he believes he can, with no interest in either of them whatsoever. Maybe there is interest, but there is no thought for how either woman feels because if there was, he wouldn’t be doing it. There is no intention for one or the other. There is only intention to satisfy his desire. It is all about accomplishment for him. It’s for his ego and nothing else.

  Then, there is David. A self-made man. A man of virtue who would never do anything to hurt Martha. He would give her himself completely and was utterly dependable. Both men had their appeal, she thought. If only she could amalgamate Peter’s confidence and arrogance with David’s love, passion and sincerity.

  She was suddenly drawn back into the conversation around the table. She had heard the name ‘Evelyn’ mentioned a few times.

  ‘Sorry, who is Evelyn? I drifted off, sorry.’ Office Pembrooke appreciated the rare apology he had received and blushed as Martha made him feel influential and respected, not something he was used to.

  ‘No bother, ma’am, I was just explaining the latest developments. Peter was quite unhappy at last night’s meeting, so I thought I would visit him and some others and bring them up to speed like, you know.’

  He was blushing. She found that very sweet and humbling. He must have seen so much across his career. He had to be in his fifties she thought and it had been a rough ride, judging by his drinker’s nose. And crikey, if he blushed because she gave him the time of day he must get it rough.

  She admired him but didn’t want to patronise him by telling him that.

  ‘Evelyn is Simon’s mother. She lives not far from here. She is not from here. She sold up when her husband died and bought a place closer to where Simon was being kept as the travelling got too much. She is a dear old woman. The mind, well the mind boggles. She knows he’s a bad man but she is his mother. I suppose she still loves him. How can you not love someone you created?’

  The table all sat silently and pondered Officer Pembrooke’s question. You could see them each thinking about it, deep thoughts on each face at the table; Peter’s, Mae’s, Martha’s and David’s. They were all wondering how they would feel if they had a child that had grown into an adult like that. Peter, unsurprisingly, broke the silence.

  ‘Well, no child of mine would be capable of such vulgar crimes. It has to be the parents. Perhaps the old witch neglected him and this is his revenge.’

  Peter got a glass out for the policeman and topped everyone up. Officer Pembrooke accepted the offer of a drink gratefully. Martha could see he did not agree with Peter’s opinion and she thought he was the better man for saying nothing of it. He must have met all the worst people, the biggest, the worst and the saddest. He knew what made people tick and he knew the inexplicable. Of course, some people don’t have the best of upbringings, but there had to be those who gave their children everything for them still to turn out in a way they would never have expected. It was the whole nature versus nurture debate. What we are born with and what we learn.

  ‘I am sure I know an Evelyn, but I just can’t place her.’ Martha racked her brain.

  ‘Leave this to the men, Martha.’ Peter, once again, putting someone in their place, she thought. He needed that to feel good about himself she thought. She didn’t need anyone to make her feel good, so she let him have it.

  ‘And what of this Evelyn character, Pembrooke? So, she’s the mother of the lunatic. I take it she is in custody now for aiding and abetting? Has she told you where he is? Where can we find him? Or have you got him as well?’

  Martha thought Peter was a fool. She didn’t find it attractive for a man to tell another man how to do his job when he had no relative experience of how that job works. He wouldn’t last five minutes as a policeman, she thought. He hasn’t got the patience or an open mind and with that, she tutted out loud.

  Peter turned to look at her and he had venom in his eyes.

  ‘Did you just tut at me, woman. I am trying to get answers.’

  He was on full peacock parade now she thought. She did tut at him, but she hadn’t meant for it to come out loud.

  ‘No, I did not tut at you, Peter, for heaven’s sake. I am just tutting at the sheer travesty of the situation. Of course, I was not tutting at you.’

  She wished she could tell him that of course, she was tutting at him. That she thought he was a fool and not nearly as intelligent or as articulate as he thought. That he lacked tact and compassion but, no, she had been raised better than that.

  She was an opinionated girl deep down; it’s just that no one knew it. She may come across as quiet, but she had a loud mind. She used her father as a tool of approval. In her mind, she would say whatever her father wouldn’t mind her saying out loud. Anything and everything else, she kept to herself.

  Officer Pembrooke continued to tell everyone around the table what he knew, which wasn’t much more. He said to them that Evelyn was cooperating now and that they believed Simon would revisit the house and that they would be keeping a ‘constant eye on it.'

  Martha tuned out again. She sipped the brandy that Peter had given her. Another evening and another petal from the flower that she thought she was.

  As each day, each occurrence, each situation passed, that is how she visualised it. As if she were once a tulip but slowly and gradually, with each challenging moment, a petal was being stripped from her already wilting stalk.

  Except now, she didn’t care so much.

  You could say she had given up the fight, but then again, you could say that she stopped fighting and started letting the petals of the past fall rather than being stripped of what she thought was hers.

  Chapter 17

  8th May 1945 – V E Day

  There was so much joy and happiness in the house that it seemed that even the walls were smiling and celebrating.

  The fear had gone and the excitement buzzing around the place was a constant source of electricity giving power to thin air. When the news had delivered confirmation of victory in Europe, Peter punched the air. Martha and Mae embraced tightly and let out tears of joy.

  It had been a long and nasty six years. The two women hadn’t seen much of the chaos but Peter had been to the city a few times and he would regale the women with the horrors he had seen and stories that his fellow officers and soldiers had told him.

  Stories of holes in the ground larger than numerous double-decker buses lined up together.

  Stories of police officers walking around with buckets collecting body parts.

  Stories of heartache as mothers had to send their children off to live in the countryside.

  Both Martha and Mae were undoubtedly glad to already be living in the country. Neither could bear the idea of sending their children away at any time let alone this time, a time of fear that they had all been living in.

  When it became official that the war was over in Europe, Martha let Willy sleep in her bed with her that night and she held him all night. She stroked his hair as he drifted off to sleep. She ran her fingers lightly down his cheek and could feel warm air coming from his little nostrils; she felt overwhelmed with relief and love.

  They had been some of the lucky ones.

  She cried quietly as she thought of those who hadn’t been lucky and that evening she did a prayer to God to send love and healing to those who needed it. When she woke up on the morning of VE Day, the two of them hadn’t moved and she realised it was the best night’s sleep she had had for quite some time and it seemed to be that way for her little boy, her own little soldier, William, too.

  The 8th May was a beautiful day.

  It was glorious sunshine, an absolute scorcher. It almost seemed like the whole country had been covered with a blackout blind and now it had finally been lifted and the sunshine was making up for being away for six years. It was a stunning day. A per
fect day for a street party.

  The whole village was alive like it had never been before. People were bumbling about, saying hello to everyone they saw. You could hear people humming tunes to themselves or whistling as they walked along with a skip in their step. Everyone was milling about getting ready for the most significant street party anyone had ever known.

  Tables were being laid out in the middle of the road, the whole length of the street. Everyone was getting involved and contributing in whatever way they could. Some people gifted flowers for table decorations and every household had been baking and preparing food since the night before. This was to be a momentous occasion. Children were skipping around and giggling. There was laughter all around. Happy laughter and lots of it.

  Everyone was elated.

  Martha and Mae got the two boys dressed in their smart clothes. They both wore shorts, a shirt, a tie, and a tank top. Their hair was combed smartly to the side and their shoes polished by Peter. He gave them both a lesson on how to shine their shoes and the importance of it.

  ‘Smart, respectable men have polished shoes. People notice things like shoes. If you want to be treated like a real man you must have clean shoes. You want to be treated like real men, don’t you?’

  Both of the boys nodded in unison and with admiration at Peter. By the time he had finished with the shoes, you could see your face in them. Peter dressed up too. He was always well turned out, but he had made an extra effort today. Taking slightly longer to shave. Perfecting his hair just a little bit more. That extra slap of cologne on his cheeks. Even the sting from that seemed to last a little longer, but it was more satisfying than usual. Everyone wanted to try that little bit more today.

  The two women were no exception. They were dressed up to the nines. Once again, they stained their legs with tea leaves, the classic red lipstick was on and some for blusher, too. They looked super glamorous and captivatingly gorgeous. They wore tight blouses and flowing skirts, showing off their female prowess and it had not been lost on Peter.