‘Aye, happen it will.’ He took the bottle off me and his broad strong fingers jerked the opener and flicked the cap off, then he poured the shining brown liquid into one of the mugs until the pale crown of froth rose and spilled over the edge. He laughed and bent his head and licked the froth from the rim before handing the mug to me. Then he poured his own drink and raised it, ‘Your very good health, Lady Helena.’
‘And yours, Ben, and yours.’ I lifted the mug and swallowed. It tasted strong and bitter and strange, but I drank it all down. He handed me a thick cheese sandwich, and we sat and munched together; then he refilled my mug and I drank another draught of the alien brew.
It was warm in the sheltered hollow, and the humming of the bees in the whinberry bells lulled me to a soft drowsiness. My eyelids drooped, and he said, gently, ‘Lie down, lass – you’re tired. Take your hat off now, and use my jacket as a pillow.’ So I took off my smart toque as I watched him fold his jacket carefully for me, and leant forward so that he could put it behind my back. Then I slid down until I lay on the rug, with my head resting on the silky lining of his jacket. I gazed up into the blue sky and smelt the male scent of him and smiled. He bent over me saying, ‘I could do with a nap myself – I were on afore two this morning. Can I join you, lass?’ I smiled again as his warm body slid down beside me, and turned to press my head against his shoulder – and fell asleep.
Chapter Ten
I slept, and as I slept I was young again, running over the springy turf at Hatton in the clear moonlight, hand-in-hand with Conan. My cousin bent to kiss me, but our lips scarcely touched and then we were running again, laughing and carefree. The dark maze loomed above us and his warm hand pulled me in; we twisted and turned and by the time we reached the centre I was breathless with excitement. He drew me closer and his lips brushed my hair and now his hands were at my breasts and as he stroked them I felt the compelling sweetness slowly rise and fill my belly. I moved towards him – and then I awoke.
But my body was still in my dream and I felt it jerking and shaking with the exquisite, overwhelming pleasure deep in my belly. I gazed up and saw a pair of blue-grey eyes looking anxiously down at me. A man’s hand was stroking my hair, and his voice was trying to comfort me, ‘Easy there, easy – my poor little lass.’ But it was not comfort I wanted now. I reached frantically for the hand and pulled it down and held it hard on my belly, pushing myself up against it until I saw comprehension dawn on his face and heard his low exclamation of understanding. Then I closed my eyes and waited for him to press down on me. But instead his hand slid down over my thigh, and then I felt him touch my knee as he lifted my skirts, and his fingers were between my legs, tugging open my flimsy chemise. I shuddered and moaned aloud as I felt his warm hand brush the skin of my thighs and then he was kneading and pressing my bare belly. I squirmed and gasped as the exquisite pleasure mounted, but just as I was ready to burst with it his hand left me.
I cried out, ‘Please, please,’ and a rough voice answered, ‘It’s all right lass, I’m ready for you.’ My eyes flew open and he was standing in front of me; his trousers were already around his ankles, and now he was dropping his coarse underpants. As I stared up at him my belly knotted in panic and I wanted to cry out in protest, but even as my mouth opened I saw it was too late – and his heavy body blotted out the sun as it came down on me. I felt his strong hands take hold of my thighs and pull them fully apart – then I gasped aloud at the sharp stab of pain as he pushed hard against me, and my fingers fanned out and I reached up in panic and caught at his strong buttocks – and clung to them even as he lunged forward, full into my belly.
He was too big, he was splitting me – there was no room, no room – but he made room for himself. And because he had entered my body he was in control; I had no choice any more, and now I could only lay quiescent beneath him and accept the strong rhythm of his steady thrusts as he used me. His pace soon quickened – he began to hurt me again, then I felt him thrust harder and deeper than ever before and I whimpered in pain even as he gave a last powerful lunge and slumped forward on top of me. And as his heavy weight pinned me to the ground the steady throbbing between my legs told me that he was done.
We lay together, still joined, and I felt a soft smoothness fill my belly and knew that he was deep inside me – and was glad. When at last he slipped out and rolled off me I moaned softly in protest, and his flushed face bent over me and he kissed me hard on the lips and gathered me to him. His arm held me tightly against his chest and I felt his heart throbbing under my breast – and his manhood soft and damp now on my bare belly. We lay clasped together until I felt it quiver and begin to swell and knew that he needed me again. I was pliant and ready for him so I shifted a little to open my legs for him and he understood and hung poised above me for a moment, looking down into my face – and then he drove into me again. Although I was still sore it was easier now; he was softer and slipped smoothly back and forth. I put my hands on his buttocks and when I felt him thrust deeper and begin to quiver I lifted myself a little under him, so that he could fill me again.
At last he slid off me, and we lay side by side as my damp belly dried in the sun. Then he shook himself and sat up, and almost I wanted to smile – to see him like that in his shirt and socks with his strong legs bare between. He leant over me and studied my face for a long time; I stared mindlessly back. Then his gaze dropped to my crumpled skirt, pushed high up round my waist, I saw his eyes narrow, and he suddenly swore, ‘Christ!’ He looked up at me quickly and now there was a desperate apology in his face. ‘Lass – I didn’t know it were first time for you – I’ve never had a virgin before – I didn’t realize!’ Slowly I raised myself and looked down at the smears of dried blood on the inside of my thighs and the stains on my satin chemise. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice was urgent, but nothing much seemed to matter now.
I whispered, ‘Only a little, Ben – only a little,’ and dropped back on to the rug again.
His eyes were still riveted on the bloodstains. ‘I thought you were ready for it – I could have sworn you were ready for it.’
I confessed softly, ‘I was ready for it, Ben,’ and thought for a sweet fleeting moment of the silver pavilion hidden in the heart of the moonlit maze. Oh Conan, why did they stop you? But I was exposed in the bright sunlight now with another man – a man with a red face and an uneducated voice who said flatly, ‘I could have brought you off with me ’and – you wouldn’t have needed much.’
‘It doesn’t matter now, Ben.’
He opened his mouth and protested, ‘Of course it matters –’ Then he stopped in mid-sentence, and said loudly, ‘No, you’re right lass, it doesn’t. We’ll get banns called tomorrow – or even get one of them special licences – that way we’ll be wed afore anyone’s had time to notice.’
I looked up at him blankly, ‘Wed, Ben – wed?’
‘Aye lass, wed. It’s only right after what’s been between us.’ I could not believe what I was hearing. ‘’Sides’ – his broad face reddened, then he put his warm hand flat down on my belly – ‘’Sides, I’ve put my seed in you.’ His face flushed a deeper red. ‘There’ll likely be fruit from this day’s work – I’ve heard it said that when a woman’s – well, anxious for a man, she quickens easier.’ His face was brick-red now; I was dumb.
He stood up, reaching for his underpants, and then bent down for his trousers. As he pulled them on he asked with his back to me, ‘When did you last bleed?’
I whispered, ‘I’ve only just finished – and I’m often late.’
‘Good – I’ll see you’ve got ring on your finger afore you’ve time to fret.’ He fastened his braces, swung round and dropped on his knees beside me. ‘Here, I’ve got a clean handkerchief – I’d best tidy you up.’ He shook out the large white square and solemnly spat on it – just like Nanny used to do when I had a smut on my nose – then I felt him rubbing hard at my thighs. ‘There, that’s better.’ He leant forward and I felt the roughness of his hands
on my bare skin as he fumbled with my chemise. He buttoned the low flap awkwardly, then frowned. ‘And what do you call – this – ?’ He waved his hand down at Letty’s present.
‘It’s an envelope chemise – from Paris.’
‘I might have guessed.’ His lips tightened. ‘Well, you can get rid of these – these flim-flams – they’re not decent! Anyroad, you’d catch your death o’ cold in them in Ainsclough. Now we’re being wed, lass, you’d best get yourself a proper pair of drawers. My missus isn’t walking streets half-naked.’
And at his words the full enormity of what I had done hit me like a blow, and I cringed away from him on the old rug and drew my legs tightly together as I turned to hide my face. Behind me I heard the rustle of greaseproof paper and the chink of bottles as he re-packed the knapsack, then he said, ‘I’ll just step behind boulder, lass, afore we move on.’ I sat up and began to tug at my crumpled frock and saw him standing with his back to me on the other side of a large block of stone, and heard the splashing spurts of liquid hitting the ground. As he swung round and came towards me he was still busy with his trouser buttons, and the casual intimacy of his behaviour hammered home the message. With shaking fingers I began to plait my dishevelled hair.
As soon as I had pinned on my hat he came and stood over me, holding out his large, work-roughened hands. ‘Up you get then,’ I did not offer him my hands but he took them all the same and pulled me to him and kissed me hard on the mouth. I stood, waiting, while he packed away the rug, then he swung the knapsack up on his shoulder, seized my hand and led me out of that ‘nice sheltered spot’.
He began to whistle as we set off down the slope, and he did not ask before swinging me up and carrying me over the flooded path. And I knew that this time his hand had not touched my thigh by accident – instead it lingered a moment then slid up and began to stroke my behind. I pulled away from him and ran ahead, tears blurring my eyes – but he caught me up again and seized my hand and held it fast; and so we walked on together.
We came down by another track, and into a cobbled street – it was Clegg Street. Ben said, ‘Mrs Greenhalgh’ll be surprised, seeing us back so soon – still, reckon she’ll not begrudge us a cup o’ tea.’ I hung back a moment – I did not want to face that sharp-eyed woman – but I lacked the words to protest, and at his tug on my hand I gave in and followed him numbly.
He pushed the door open and called. Mrs Greenhalgh, straight-backed and neat, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron; I spotted the young face of Emmie behind her. ‘Hello, Ben, so you’re back then. Did you go far?’
‘No, not that far – just up top and over bank.’ His voice was steady, matter of fact. Her glance turned to me, a smile lighting her stern face, then I saw her eyes narrow as she took in my creased frock and untidy hair. As her smile faded, the hastily wound plait tightened like a steel band around my head. Beside me I heard Ben take a deep breath, and then his voice, too loud, announced, ‘Lady Helena and me – we’re getting wed, Mrs Greenhalgh.’
There was a gasp of pain behind her, and I glimpsed Emmie’s round face, drained of colour – but it was the landlady’s pale gaze which held mine, and I felt the betraying tide of red sweep over me as her eyes stripped me bare. Her mouth tightened, then the words snapped: ‘That’s very sudden, Ben Holden.’
His reply was determined. ‘Not so much, Missus – we’ve known each other nigh on three years now.’
She drew herself up and spoke in measured tones. ‘Then indeed you must marry, if you have known each other –’ she paused, deliberately, before she added the ‘so long’.
I cringed inwardly as the Biblical phrase tore away the last shreds of pretence, but Ben was still talking, his tone level, apparently unaware. I did not listen to what he said, I only knew I had to get away, to leave this spotless, accusing hallway. I interrupted, addressing the polished linoleum at her feet. ‘I must take my leave of you, Mrs Greenhalgh – I have a train to catch…’ My voice died away and I tugged desperately at Ben’s sleeve.
He glanced round, and for a moment I thought he was going to refuse me, then he said, ‘Aye, aye, we mun be going. I’ll be out for me tea, Mrs Greenhalgh.’
I turned and almost ran out into the street and the door shut behind us with a decisive thud. My whisper was agonized. ‘She knew, Ben – she knew.’
‘Don’t be so daft, lass. She might be a bit suspicious, but how could she ever know what we’d been up to – she weren’t hiding behind a boulder in quarry, I’m sure of that – Fanny Greenhalgh never walks further than shop at end of street.’ He sounded almost amused.
‘But…’ I stopped, helplessly; he could not, he would not understand. I stumbled on the smooth setts and he pulled me against him to steady me, holding my arm firmly to his chest. The sudden jolt increased the pressure on my full bladder, and now physical discomfort added to my distress. ‘Ben…’ I was hesitant; all the silly pretence of the morning had vanished and with it my assurance; now I was in an alien place, walking beside a stranger. I faltered, ‘Ben, I need to – couldn’t we go past…?’
Then he understood and gave a small grunt, half impatient, half indulgent. ‘All right, lass, I’ll take you round there. But why ever didn’t you ask to go down yard at Mrs Greenhalgh’s? You know where it is.’
‘How could I, after what she said – the way she looked at me?’
He stopped on the steep slope and pulled me round until I was facing him. I stared fixedly down at his waistcoat buttons as he said, ‘Look, lass, we’ve done nowt that’s not been done a thousand times afore, and will be a thousand times ahead.’ He paused, then added, ‘And that’s only Ainsclough I’m talking about! Anyroad, it’s me as has to face Fanny Greenhalgh tonight, not you, so stop this fretting. We’d best get you sorted, then us’ll ’ave a nice cup of tea at Bert’s. We’ve a lot to settle, you and me, afore you catch that train of yours.’
He started forward and obediently I followed. I dared not think ahead; instead I concentrated all my mind on the immediate need of emptying my overfull bladder.
Yet when we arrived at the small red-brick building under its tiny green dome I simply stood gazing at the curly metal sign until he gave me a little push. ‘Go on then – I’ll wait for you over by railings.’ I walked up the flagged path and went inside. The tiny room at the rear looked warm and cosy in the glow of a gas mantle, and the fat overalled woman looked up from her knitting and glanced inquiringly through the half-glass partition. I quickly fumbled in my purse for a coin and thrust it down into the slot. The heavy door banged shut behind me and I leant for a moment against the cold marble wall, thankful for the small privacy. But as my fingers began to undo the flap of my chemise I came on the odd button left over at the end – it was crooked because he had re-fastened it, and my heart jumped in my chest and I looked down and saw the bloodstains and remembered – and could scarcely stop myself from crying out. And as soon as I sat over the bowl, the burning was another sharp reminder, and I knew that, were it not for the fat woman’s presence I would have stayed crouched in there, weeping and ashamed.
The woman had put out the soap and held a clean towel ready, and as I thanked her and dried my hands she asked, ‘Has tha been far, Miss?’
‘Yes – I’ve been walking on the moors.’
She smiled. ‘Well, it’s been a fine day – we mun make the most of it.’
I gave her the coins and a polite smile and turned and walked towards the open doorway. But as soon as I had stepped off the tiled floor my body stopped – I could not go on down the flagstones and out into the world beyond. A few yards away Ben Holden was leaning over the railings with his back to me, apparently engrossed in the scene further down the street, busy with Saturday shoppers and small-town traffic. And as I watched him I was conscious of him as I had never been before: a broad figure in an ill-fitting suit, the brown hair under his cap curving into the short broad neck which was set so square on those strong shoulders – this was the man who had set his
mark on me. He had entered me, and by entering me he had branded me – indelibly, permanently; and now I was exposed and vulnerable to him. An uncontrollable shudder ripped through my body, and, as if in confirmation I felt the soreness between my legs rise to burning pitch. The pain thrust me forward, jerkily – and as I moved he turned round. At once I saw the new confidence, almost a jauntiness, in his manner as he looked at me. just as I knew that I had been entered, so he knew that he had possessed; subtly but irrevocably our relationship had changed and as I walked forward I lowered my eyes before his.
He spoke, and there was the familiar concern in his voice, but now he spoke as a man who had a right to be concerned and who expects a truthful answer, so that the simple query ‘Are you all right, lass?’ assumed a weight out of all proportion to its words.
The ground at my feet was no longer solid it shivered and shifted – I was on the brink of a quagmire and I was terrified. Just for this once I must find the quick easy words of my sex and class and use them to throw a brittle span across this treacherous morass so that I could cross safely over it and go back to Hatton, and be free once more; then this afternoon would turn into an unbelievable dream and become unreal, and the mark he had set on me would diminish and fade – and be forgotten. I made myself look on the man in front of me as merely a shape – a stocky form in a badly-cut jacket with the calloused hands of his class, a working man in a small grimy town far away. But even as I looked at him it was too late. My picture dissolved and re-formed, and it was the same shape, but different, because it was Ben Holden’s face that looked at me now, Ben Holden’s eyes that held mine: Ben, who had turned his cheek to my breast as he came back from the dead for me; Ben, who had stood in front of me with my cup and saucer carefully arranged on a packing case lid on the night that Young Lennie had died; Ben, to whom I had told in pain and grief the terrible secret of Robbie’s death. There was too much between us – not the conventional love of a man and a woman, but the shared emotions of sorrow and despair – and the trust which had grown out of them. I was frightened and ashamed now of my reckless, wilful behaviour – for I knew full well that my actions had been decisive; his, merely the inevitable male response to them. The blame was mine, yet he had offered at once to shoulder the consequences of my folly, in the best way he knew how. I could not reject a gift tendered with such simple generosity.
Song of Songs Page 51