He came back again and laid the table and told me to eat my tea. I did as he bid me because otherwise he might suspect, and lock me away where Gerald could never find me – my heart trembled with fear at the thought – and in my anxiety to propitiate him I made myself smile at my jailor. It seemed to please him. ‘That’s better, lass – I know you were upset, but, well – we mun live together.’
Yes – of course – until Gerald came for me.
But he was speaking again. ‘It’s hard for you to have to accept – but in long run it’s best you know truth. Anyroad, put it out of your mind now – after all, your Gerald’s been dead a long time. I’ll just pop out back, then we’ll have an early night – I’m on first thing in morning.’
He had said Gerald was dead! No, no – he couldn’t be – he was coming for me – he must – I drew the tattered shreds of my fantasy about me, and huddled beneath their fragile protection.
When my jailor came back he sent me upstairs, and brought me hot water – so I undressed and washed quickly with hands that trembled – then I climbed into the bed and hid my head under the blankets. The man got in beside me, and touched my shoulder – but I stayed quite still until I heard him sigh again and roll away.
I slept and dreamt and woke – and did not know whether I was dreaming or waking. I saw Gerald, with Edward Summerhays beside him – he was smiling down at Edward in the church at Hammersmith. And I saw Gerald again, leaning over Edward as they came down the steps of the hospital together – looking at him as a man looks at his beloved – and they climbed into a cab and drove away, leaving me desolate.
When I awoke at last I knew that I was no longer dreaming; and I knew that Gerald was dead – and that, living, he had never loved me.
I pulled myself up out of the bed; I was alone. I felt very sick and ill because I was carrying another man’s child in my womb. I dragged myself downstairs and found the picture of Gerald in its hiding place. I swayed as I looked down at it for the last time, then raised my arm and threw it with all my strength at the hard iron range. The glass shattered and splintered in its silver frame and I felt wild anger flare up and consume me as I screamed again and again: ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!’
Then the flame died down, and went out – and there were only dead ashes in my heart. I had lost my love more than five years ago – but always I had carried his dream in my heart; now my dream was dead too. I knelt down on the coarse rag hearthrug and began to pick up the tiny slivers of glass, one by one.
Chapter Ten
That day I performed my morning tasks, just as I always did; I had a house to clean and a husband to be fed – and I was carrying his child; that was why I felt so ill. But every so often I would come to myself, my hands motionless in the sink or on the broom handle, and realize that I had been waiting for Gerald – still sure he would come. And as I was shaking the mat I thought, I must tell the twins about that – and only afterwards did I remember that they were both dead. My heartbeat quickened with fear, for I knew now that all yesterday I had lived in a dream – my mind had escaped to wander in a world of its own – I had become accustomed to sending it there deliberately, and now it kept slipping away from me as I forgot where I was and what I was doing.
I made myself a cup of tea and sat down and drank it very hot – it seemed to help me. But later, while I was dusting the piano, I began to talk to Robbie – I was laughing with him, I knew he was there beside me – but when I turned he had vanished. Now I was very frightened, and although I felt so heavy and ill I stumbled through to the kitchen and found my basket, and dragged myself upstairs for my coat and hat – I would walk down to the town, to the market – with people around me surely I would be able to grasp what was real and hold on to it?
But I found myself standing by the fish stall with a clammy parcel in my hand – and did not know how it had got there. I whispered, ‘Did I – have I paid?’
The fishmonger looked up in surprise. ‘Aye, missus – but tha can pay again if tha wishes.’ His teeth gleamed a moment as his swift knife filleted another herring. I turned quickly away and my ankle gave under me and I stumbled – I felt sick and shaken. And when I got back there was blood again in my drawers and the sight of it confused me – but it was only spots; perhaps my eyes were deceiving me, like my brain.
It was lunchtime when he came back; his boots sounded heavy on the parlour floor and he came into the kitchen, solid and smelling of sweat – so I knew he, at least, was real. ‘Are you feeling better today, lass?’ My tongue would not work, but I managed to nod in reply. ‘Good, good.’
Listening to him splashing in the scullery steadied me a little. I watched him go out to the closet, real and substantial – and as he came back he paused and reached up to the wall – there was a cat perched there – a ginger cat. It arched its back as he stroked it, and seeing them together reminded me – I remembered the kitchen at Étaples: this was the man who had brought me the cat, because I was so frightened of rats. He was a kind man – quick to anger, but kind. He would help me. I stood there, waiting, and as he came in, my eyes sought his and he looked back at me, anxious and pleading. I wanted so much to speak, to bridge the gulf between us and so ease my desolation – but the words stuck in my throat and I was dumb. As I turned away to pick up the plates I saw the disappointment in his face. But I was dumb.
After we had eaten he followed me into the small scullery and began to help me wash up – but he was too big, he got in my way and I became tense and impatient. Putting down the glass cloth he went to the doorway and said, ‘I’ll not bother you any longer – I’ll go up plot. You sit down and have a rest.’ I heard the bang of the front door – and I was alone again.
He came back at teatime. I laid the table, then we sat facing each other, eating and drinking, and nothing was said until he got up at the end. ‘Come and sit down in parlour – I’ll see to pots meself, later.’ I followed him into the small front room and we sat down opposite each other, either side of the empty hearth. He cleared his throat several times before he began to speak. ‘Lass, I’m sorry about way I told you t’other night – I shouldn’t have used language I did. But I lose me temper when I get jealous, and seeing you throw yourself at Conan way you did – I were that angry.’ I looked down at my hands; I still could not speak. He went on heavily, ‘After all, you’re me wife, you’re carrying my child – you didn’t ought to touch other men – I’ve got right to keep you from them.’
Yes, he was still my jailor, and there was no one to rescue me now. Gerald was dead, and my brothers were dead, both of them. Although it was too early I stood up and went upstairs; I took off my clothes and washed, then climbed into bed. As I lay there Gerald’s face danced under my closed lids – behind him was the blue sky at Eton and he smiled at me and teased me and spoke kindly to me; I was a girl again and I loved him – Lord Gerald, my handsome hero. But as I smiled back at him his expression changed, his mouth twisted and he was jeering at me from a face grown distorted and ugly. I felt the tears damp on my cheeks as I whispered aloud, ‘Oh God, you took him from me in life – was that not bereavement enough? Why did you have to take him from me in death as well?’
And as I lay there my brothers came to me and comforted me with their dark eyes so loving and loyal – and I knew that they, at least, would never betray me. Then Eddie faded – but Robbie was still with me – Robbie who loved me and smiled at me so warmly. But as I looked up into his beloved face my hand rose, and it held a syringe – and I seized his arm and held him tight so he could not escape and pointed the needle and drove it hard into him and pushed down the plunger as far as it would go. And all the time his eyes smiled at me in love – until the syringe was empty and then, very slowly, his jaw sagged and his eyes closed – and I was alone. I knew now why God had punished me so.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life – a death for a death. But I had been a coward and not paid that final price. The man who was moving about in the ho
use below, whose heavy footsteps were even now on the stairs – he had stopped me. As he came into the room I flung myself forward and cried, ‘You should not have stopped me – you were wrong to stop me!’
His face was angry. ‘Of course I stopped you – you’re me wife – am I supposed to watch you with another man and stand by and do nothing – and you carrying my child in your belly?’
He did not understand and I fell back and closed my eyes. But as his heavy body climbed in beside me I realized he had given me the answer: I was paying the price – not with death but with life. I had given death, but in a few months I would give life – that was why I had gone running to this man, so that he would put a child into my body and let me pay the price that way. And as he had done, so he would do again, and year after year I would pay my debt, here in this small alien town. I closed my eyes and lay still beside him until he slept.
By the time I awoke in the morning he had gone; and I was calmer. I felt very tired and ill, but that was to be my restitution; I had killed Robbie, but if God would let me pay my debt in this way, then it was only right and proper that I should suffer. When I stood up, my womb tugged at my belly and dragged me down; my back seemed to be breaking in two. But I pulled myself up straight – as straight as I had been when I had worn the back harness in the schoolroom at Hatton, long ago. I had a debt to pay, a punishment to be endured – I would not show weakness.
But on the last step, when my ankle gave way under me and my foot twisted and threw me forwards, so that I had to cling shaking to the rail, then I was frightened – and remembered the neglected flat shoes upstairs; but I still could not bring myself to wear them. I shared his bed and carried his child, but I would not wear his shoes, though I moved so clumsily about the small rooms as I swept and dusted and cleaned and tidied. Then I put on my hat and coat and picked up my basket and went out to do my shopping. My ankle hurt, but I put my foot down firmly; I would not limp. Instead I would walk with my back straight and my chin held high – just as once I had walked towards my king in his palace, the three ostrich feathers bobbing on my head and my long train heavy behind me.
But as I began to climb up the steep slope of Royds Street a child ran out of a doorway and collided with me so that I stumbled. And as my whole weight came down on that foot my ankle twisted again – I threw myself back but it was no use, my balance had gone – I swayed and then went flying forward until I hit the hard grey flags – full on my belly.
I lay dazed on the ground with two women bending over me. They helped me gently to my feet. ‘Are you all right, lass – are you all right?’
As they dusted me down and retrieved my spilled groceries I whispered, ‘Yes – yes – I’m quite all right.’ But I was not. The fall had jarred every bone in my body – I felt so sick and ill and shaken. They brought out a chair and offered me a drink of tea but I refused both – I wanted to get back, back to my refuge, and despite my weak ankle and trembling legs I almost ran up the street.
When I reached my own front door I fumbled with the key – I could barely turn it – the latch was almost too heavy for me to lift. My hands struggled to unfasten my coat and back in the warm kitchen I slumped down into the rocking chair, shivering. I made myself take deep slow breaths, trying to be calm – telling myself I was only shaken – I would soon be over it; but then I felt the warm blood begin to seep out of my body and trickle down my legs – and now I was very frightened.
I eased myself very slowly to my feet, and moved like an old woman to the linen cupboard. I took out one of the towels and wrapped it round my belly and between my legs and told myself that if I sat very still, then it would stop. But it did not. And soon the cramps began – I was gasping with pain and fear – they were worse than I had ever known; they seized my belly like a giant hand and squeezed it relentlessly until I had to drive my nails into the palms of my hands to stop myself screaming aloud. They came and took my body over and wrung it until the blood gushed from between my legs and the towel became sodden and heavy. I crouched in my chair while they squeezed my womb dry, and then I knew I was with child no longer.
I could not move; I sat huddled in that chair as the clock ticked on and the high-pitched voices of children called to each other in the yard next door. But at last the door opened and he said, ‘Sorry I’m late, lass – I had a driving turn.’ He was shrugging off his jacket and rooting in his pockets as he turned and saw me. ‘Having a rest, lass – that’s right.’ Then his face changed. ‘Helena – what’s happened?’ I looked up at him, I still could not speak; then he fell on his knees in front of me and touched my bloody skirt. ‘Oh Christ! What happened – Helena – you must tell me.’
At last I replied, very slowly, ‘I fell, I fell in the street.’
‘I mun fetch doctor.’
‘No – no!’
‘Helena, I must.’ I stared down at my sodden skirt – how could I let a strange man see me like this? Then he understood. ‘I’ll get Mrs Ingham t’come in, and clean you up.’
I shrank back – Mrs Ingham – whose children were even now calling to her in the yard outside. ‘No – no!’ It was all I could say.
He looked at me steadily. ‘All right, lass. I’ll put kettle on – top up water from range.’ I wondered what he meant – then I saw that he was filling the bowl himself, fetching the soap, the flannel – and a clean towel. Now I could not even say no as he knelt down before me and lifted my skirt. And as he had put the child inside me, so now he was taking it out. I closed my eyes as his hands moved, unwinding the towel. ‘I’ll put this to soak in pail – but – I remember our Ada once –’ He was fumbling with china, I heard the chink of it. Then his hands were on me again as he mopped and wiped and cleansed.
When he had finished he went upstairs and found my belt and eased it on me, and fastened a clean dry pad between my legs. He muttered, ‘That might not be enough – you’re still bleeding badly,’ and I felt him raise my hips and wrap a warm towel around me. Then he lifted me out of the chair and carried me up the stairs. In the small bedroom he took off the rest of my clothes, dressed me in a clean nightgown and laid me down on the bed. Tucking me firmly in, he said, ‘I’m going for doctor now.’
The doctor was grey-haired, with tired, red-veined eyes; I cringed from his probing hands. When he had finished he sat down on the bed and said, ‘I think it’s all come away, missus – your husband showed me downstairs. Now, lass, I know women get upset at a time like this, but there’s only one cure. You must start thinking about the next child – don’t leave it too long. I’ve told your man – as soon as the bleeding stops. Then you’ll have something to look forward to again.’ I turned my face away and his voice was tinged with impatience as he told me, ‘It happens often enough, there’s nothing unusual about it.’ He repeated, ‘It happens – especially when a woman’s carrying two.’
And now I heard him. ‘Two – you mean, twins? I was carrying twins?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
He picked up his bag and turned to go. I had to ask him, I had to know – but of course, I knew already – oh yes, I knew what I had done. ‘What were they? What were they?’
He paused in the doorway and looked at me a moment, then said, ‘Boys, both boys.’ And clumped off down the stairs.
So I knew just what I had done. In my foolish pride I had worn my fine heeled shoes and made myself walk upright – and I had stumbled and fallen and killed my babies before they were even born. I had not paid my debt – no, instead I had killed my brothers again.
Ben Holden’s head peered round the door. ‘He’s gone lass – he said as how – well, I reckon he told you same as me.’
‘Where are they?’
He looked at me, puzzled. ‘Where are what?’
‘My twins, my twin babies.’
‘I’ve cleaned up – then I threw it all on range.’
I screamed at him, ‘You burnt them, you burnt them! You could at least have given them burial – you know where the grave i
s, you know!’ He came towards me, his face a mask of horror – I thought he would touch me, so I stopped my scream, I stopped it, and lay still and closed my eyes against him. When I felt his hand on my shoulder I struck it away, crying, ‘Get out, get out!’ over and over again, until he went.
Chapter Eleven
I lay unmoving on the bed as the blood trickled out of my empty womb; God had not accepted my payment. He was a jealous God; he would allow no restitution – no giving of life in return for death. Only a death for a death. I had failed to pay with my own life and so now I had killed again – my two dead babies. He had exacted vengeance because I had been a coward; I must be a coward no longer.
But I heard a heavy tread on the stairs, and Ben Holden came into the room, carrying a tray. As he set it down beside the bed I turned my head away. ‘No, lass, you mun eat.’ I did not move. ‘I’m staying here, and if you won’t eat it yourself, then I’ll feed you. But you will eat, I’ll make sure of that.’ So I pulled myself up and let him put the tray on my lap; then I picked up the spoon and began to swallow the broth. ‘It’s Mrs Ingham’s making – I’ve bin to have a chat with her and she’s willing to come and oblige while you’re laid up. Mebbe you’ll be better with a woman about at a time like this.’ Reaching out his hand he rested it on my hair a moment; I shrank away from him.
I ate while he was watching me – I had no choice – but as soon as I had finished I pushed the tray from me and closed my eyes – to make him go away. But once the door closed behind him I began to shift restlessly on my pillow because I knew I could not die while I was with this man; he would stop me now just as he had stopped me before. I must wait.
Song of Songs Page 67