Song of Songs

by Song of Songs (retail) (epub)

  ‘Well done, me lad – all present and correct.’ Ben took out his handkerchief and wiped the toddler’s nose, then swung him up squealing into his arms. ‘Now you hang on to your Auntie Helena, Edie.’ The little girl shyly took my proffered hand – I was almost as shy as she was, being used to Betsy Grimshaw who chattered all the time; I missed her now she was at school. But I did not need to worry, the three males talked non-stop; Edie and I were able to relax as we walked sedately beside them.

  Then it was March. A year ago I had sat beside my brother, watching him gasp desperately for breath. Ben did not say anything, but I knew that he was remembering too; he was very gentle with me and he exchanged a shift the day before that night, so that he would be home early.

  I sat over my music, forcing myself to concentrate on the score. I could not sing. At last he said, ‘You’d best go to bed, sweetheart. I’ll be up meself soon, and I’ll come and see if there’s owt you want.’

  I lay in bed with the gas turned low; he tapped and crept in, and I felt his hand on my hair. ‘Lass, if you want me beside you tonight I’ll come – you needn’t fear owt.’

  I replied at last, ‘I don’t know, Ben – I don’t know.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave doors ajar – I’ll come if you call.’

  I lay and slept and woke, and slept again, uneasily. Finally I heard the church clock strike four – and knew that a year ago it had been all over. I slid out of bed and went quietly downstairs to put the kettle on.

  Ben came down as I sat crouched over the table. He sat with me, not speaking, drinking his tea. When he had finished he sighed heavily. ‘He were a good officer – not one of them who’d jump on top of parapet and do daft things, but he cared about his men – he wouldn’t let them down. And he knew all their names and always had a word for them; they could talk to him, and he’d do his best to help where there was trouble at home, or suchlike. I remember once, Dan Ogden – a little fat lad he were, from Bolton – he got a letter from his girl – he’d got her into trouble on last leave. I don’t reckon she were all that bright – he showed me letter, she could hardly string two words together, poor lass, and it were all blotched where she’d been crying over it. Her family were strict chapel and they’d thrown her out. He came to me, he were really worried about her – and guilty too. So we went to your brother and told him all about it and he spent the whole of one of his rest days going back to HQ and pulling every string he could to get young Dan special leave – and he weren’t feeling too good then, the Captain weren’t, had a touch of flu – but he went, all t’same. In end Dan got forty-eight hours and we sent him off with a bottle of vino in his pack for wedding. After he’d gone I remembered licence – but your brother had thought of that too and given him money for it. When Dan got back he said her mam had taken her in again, soon as ring were on her finger – but the old besom wouldn’t let them have even half an hour alone together. We told him he could make up for it after war, but then they sent us back to Wipers, so he never got his wedding night. Still, at least youngster wouldn’t be brought up a bastard. If it were a boy she were going to call it “Robert”, Dan said – after the Captain. I don’t know whether she did or not.’

  My brother, my dearest brother. I put my hand over Ben’s and we sat waiting for the dawn.

  On the Monday, Mary Grimshaw said, rather diffidently, that their minister had spoken in the chapel of its fiftieth anniversary celebrations: ‘At end of August, – it’ll be a big do, and they’re planning to put on Messiah. He were saying we’d have to be thinking about soloists, so after service I told him you sang lovely – and ’e wondered mebbe if…?’ She looked at me hopefully.

  I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Grimshaw – I did sing in a performance of Messiah once – but my voice has changed now, I couldn’t.’ After she had gone back into the kitchen I remembered the church at Hammersmith, and the tears filled my eyes.

  I had a lesson with Madame Goldman later that morning, and just as I was finishing Wally Jenkins came in. I had not seen her for well over a year and we talked eagerly together; she told me she had been touring in opera, but had come back to Manchester now. ‘My mam’s not so good so I’m only taking local engagements at present.’ Her face was tired, then she laughed. ‘Fancy you going to live in Ainsclough of all places – where Miss Nellie Girvan made her only public appearance! Do you remember us singing the Barcarolle together? You’ll be able to pop down the Co-op Hall for an engagement any time now!’

  I smiled at her. ‘As it happens, an engagement in Ainsclough was offered to me – only this morning – an anniversary Messiah at the local chapel.’

  Madame broke in. ‘When is this anniversary?’

  ‘In August, but –’

  ‘Good, then we have time to prepare.’

  ‘But Madame, – I can’t sing “The Redeemer” now – I might crack on the G.’

  Madame shook her head. ‘You would not, Lady Helena, you are still capable – but I agree, it is best not to – you must think of yourself as a mezzo now, so this is for you.’ She signalled the accompanist away from the piano, sat down herself and began playing; I heard the first bars of, ‘He was despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrow and acquainted with grief.’ She stopped, her fat fingers splayed on the keys. ‘You have been acquainted with grief, Lady Helena – you will sing this well. We will start practising tomorrow.’

  I began to protest but Madame waved me to the door. ‘Go home and find your score, my dear – eleven o’clock tomorrow.’

  As I picked up my gloves Wally said, ‘Madame’s right, Lady Helena – they’ll find a local soprano easily enough, but we altos are thin on the ground.’

  I mentioned what they had said to Ben that evening, thinking he might object, but instead his face lit up. ‘You do it, lass – and I’ll move heaven and earth to get right shift so I can come and hear you.’

  So next day I said to Mary, ‘If they can’t find anyone else, perhaps –’

  The minister came that same evening. I sang for him, ‘But the Lord is mindful of his own’, and he beamed at me. It was as Wally had predicted: there was a young soprano in the congregation who could cope. ‘But for the alto part we often have to bring in an outsider – I am so very grateful, Mrs Holden –’

  He stopped, flustered, and Ben broke in, ‘She’ll answer to “Lady Helena”, Mr Whitworth – though she’s sung under another name in Ainsclough.’ He winked at me.

  As he was leaving the minister said, while shaking hands with Ben, ‘I haven’t seen you in chapel yourself for a long time, Ben.’

  Ben flushed. ‘Aye, not since afore the war.’

  After the door closed Ben looked at me, explaining. ‘I used to be in choir, but – when I came back – there didn’t seem much point –’ He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I know, Ben – it was the same with me.’ He sat down and picked up his paper.

  At my next lesson I told Madame Goldman that I was not sure I should sing the Messiah in a chapel: ‘Since the war – I’m not sure I believe any longer – I have had so many doubts –’

  Madame silenced me. ‘Who does not have doubts? We can only sing in hope, we can do no more.’

  At my next lesson Madame greeted me warmly. ‘Ah, good – you look well, Lady Helena – you will be able to sing at Accrington tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Accrington – sing at Accrington?’

  ‘Yes – it is not far for you, luckily. Poor Wally will be so relieved – her mother has taken a turn for the worse, but she doesn’t like to let people down, so she suggested you might take her place. You are free?’

  I stammered. ‘Yes – but – Madame –’

  ‘Good, I will telegraph. The programme is all in your repertoire, except for the third item – I suggest Parry’s “O Mistress Mine”, instead. We will run over them now.’

  ‘But Madame – Wally is a deep contralto –’

  She waved my objections aside. ‘No matter – I know the soprano, she is very high
– a little “reedy”’ – her lips turned down a moment – ‘so you will be a sufficient contrast. We will start with “The Oak and the Ash” – they are a little old-fashioned in Accrington.’ She gestured to her pianist and I stopped protesting and began to sing:

  ‘A north country maid up to London had strayed,

  Although with her nature it did not agree;

  She wept, and she sighed, and she bitterly cried,

  “I wish once again in the north I could be…”’

  Ben was on a late turn that week so I stayed up to tell him my news, rather apprehensive about his reaction. His face fell. ‘I wish you’d given me more notice, lass – I might have been able to do a swap, even though it is Saturday night – then I could have come to hear you.’

  ‘I didn’t know myself until today – but, are you sure you don’t mind?’

  He grinned at me. ‘I’ll mind if you don’t get up them stairs sharpish now, and I’ll mind if you don’t spend tomorrow resting on sofa – but if you promise to do both them two things then I’ll let you go to Accrington.’ He put out his hand and placed it firmly on my behind; it was warm and I hung back a minute, then he pressed harder until I moved towards the stairs. ‘Bed now.’ He kissed me quickly on the lips and I ran obediently up.

  After we had eaten an early lunch the next day he settled me on the sofa in the parlour. ‘You should be able to catch 10.20 this evening – it’s nowt but a step from th’all – and, then mind you take a cab back up here.’

  ‘Yes, Ben.’

  He leant over to kiss me. ‘I’d best be going now.’ I put my arms round his neck and clung to him for a moment. When he lifted his head he was breathing harder; he whispered, ‘I love you, sweetheart, and I wish I could come and hear you tonight – you’ll have to give me a little concert later, all on me own.’ Smiling, I watched him stride across the room.

  But I missed the 10.20. The organizers had prepared refreshments for us after the performance and they invited us to stay a little while. I was happy to do so – from the moment of walking out on to the platform I had been exhilarated – I had sung, and sung well. The audience had applauded enthusiastically, the chairman was pressing me to come again; I glowed with pleasure.

  They were kindly, hospitable people and two of the committee insisted on escorting us to the station, where the other soloists headed for the Burnley platform while I went to wait for the last train, that would take me home – to Ainsclough. I was too restless to sit down, so I walked along the curving platform and watched the Burnley train slide smoothly in opposite. I glimpsed the dark head of the engine driver outlined for a moment against the station lights and remembered with a little jolt that Ben was somewhere out in the night – in charge of just such another huge panting monster. I smiled to myself at my fanciful picture – to Ben it was merely his job.

  The Ainsclough train rumbled in with a scrape and squeal of brakes – a monster, but a tamed monster, obediently slowing for its stop. I looked up at the white blur of the face of the man who had tamed it and something about the set of his shoulders alerted me; I was already running along the platform as it came to a halt.

  I called out, ‘Ben, Ben!’ His dark shoulders appeared above me and I saw the white flash of his teeth.

  ‘I thought it were you, lass – and I told you to catch th’early!’ But I heard the laughter in his voice and clinging to the shining steel rail I laughed back up at him. ‘Keep an eye out, Frank – I’m dropping down.’ As soon as he was on the platform beside me I put up my face for his kiss. ‘I’m all over mucky, lass’ – but he kissed me all the same.

  I looked up into the cab and saw the gleam of brass wheels, and steel levers glinting in the glare from the fire – it was mysterious and exciting, a man’s world, my husband’s world – and I wanted to see more of it. I did not want to travel tamely back to Ainsclough in a dull compartment when Ben was there in front of me, driving the monster. I swung back to him. ‘Ben – let me come on the footplate with you – take me with you.’

  ‘Lass, there’s nowhere to sit – and what about your nice coat?’

  ‘Ben, please – I’ll stand, it’s not far. I’m not tired, and I’ve got lots of other clothes.’ I put my hand on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Please, Ben.’

  Suddenly he laughed. ‘Come on, then – but you’ll have to do as you’re told.’ He glanced quickly round. ‘Now, while no one’s looking – lucky platform curves or guard’d be on me tail. Take a hold.’ Clasping the shining steel rail I put my foot on the first step, his hands lifted my hips and then we were both on board. He held me firmly round the waist. ‘Now don’t move unless I tell you – there’s not much room and I don’t want you falling out o’side o’ cab. This is young Frank, by the way me missus, Frank.’

  A hand moved up to a cap and a man’s voice said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Missus Holden – Ben, guard’ll be flashing porter any minute.’

  ‘Aye, you go on Frank’s side, lass.’ He moved me bodily across. ‘Stand in corner by tank and hang on to this handle we’ll not be using hand brake until we get back to shed. Keep your gloves on – then your hand won’t show up. There’s whistle.’

  I stood stock still in my corner, watching him lean out of the cab. Then he ducked his head back in and his left hand reached for a handle. Beside me Frank whispered, ‘He’s taking brakes off.’ I watched Ben’s strong knuckles grip, push up and forward, then ease back; the monster gave a long gusty sigh. Ben’s right hand flashed out in the shadows and pushed one heavy lever away from him – then we began to move. The monster gave several short sharp barks, and as it did so I saw the chinks of light from the fire wink in sympathy. The barks quickened into a rhythmical growl and Ben’s left hand was on the wheel now, turning it slowly until the monster’s heartbeat steadied and became quieter.

  It was very dark on the footplate now, the only light coming from that bright curving line round the fire door and the faint glimmer of the oil lamp hanging between the glass gauges. The cold night air rushed past as we gathered speed and I dared to raise one hand to my hat and pull it more securely down over my ears. Ben stood opposite me, leaning casually against the side of the cab, with the confidence of a man who knew his job and had done it a thousand times before. He glanced across at me and his teeth flashed in a white grin. ‘When they sent me out on this driving turn tonight I thought about you – but I reckoned you’d be safe home by now. What we got, Frank?’

  Frank was leaning out of the gap behind me as the track curved. Now he shouted back, ‘One off.’ Then his voice close to my ear explained, ‘Signals, missus – dusta see?’ But I was looking at Ben, watching his right hand go up and pull the heavy lever effortlessly towards him. I heard the engine note change as we slowed, then Frank called again: ‘Two off,’ and Ben pushed the heavy lever back up and we gathered speed once more as the dimly lit signal box flashed past.

  ‘Soon be in Church. Excuse me, missus.’ Frank stretched his arm round me and began to manipulate his own small circular handle. But it was Ben who was in command, Ben who was touching the brake handle again, rocking it backwards and forwards until the monster sighed and slowed and ran down into the small station with a final protesting squeal.

  ‘Keep forward, sweetheart, and hang on tight.’

  As the compartment doors began to slam Frank whispered in my ear, ‘I thought for a moment he were talking to me!’ Then he pushed past and went to lean out of the cab on the platform side, his broad shoulders close to Ben’s, hiding me from view.

  As we set off again Frank said, ‘I reckon she needs a shovel or two, Ben.’

  ‘I’ll bring lass over my side, then, Frank.’ Ben came towards me in the gloom. ‘Give me your hand, sweetheart.’ He drew me across the swaying footplate to the driver’s corner. ‘Take hold of the wheel.’ I did as he bid me and felt his strong arm come round my waist. ‘I’ll hold you steady, lass – you keep close to me.’

  Frank leant forward; there was a roar and I saw the door swin
g open, exposing the fierce whiteness of the fire. We pounded through the night and Ben held me safe while Frank flicked coal into the nearest corners, hefting the heavy shovel as though it were a child’s toy – just as Ben must have done for years – and still did. The wooden floor jolted beneath me and the heat of the monster’s heart fanned my legs; then the door swung back and only a faint glowing curve showed where it had devoured its food.

  ‘I’ll take you back over t’other side, sweetheart.’ I edged back, clutching his hand. ‘Good lass stay out of sight as we run into Rishton.’ Frank crouched down at my feet, and I heard the whisper of a brush as he swept the floor clean. When the station lights appeared I fixed my gaze on Ben and watched his strong hands moving: turning, pulling – and I felt the excitement rise in the pit of my belly. I was mesmerized by the strength and command of him – I wanted to reach out to touch those shoulders, stroke those arms – but I knew I could not – yet.

  The engine began to clatter downhill. Ben called over to me, ‘We’re running into tunnel – hang on tight,’ and suddenly steam swirled into the cab and I smelt oil and smoke and soot; and my ears were deafened by the roar until we shot out again into the fresh night air. Ben’s hand rested easily on the wheel; we were running faster and faster now, down into Blackburn. There were lines joining us, signal boxes, lights in the streets – and then another tunnel; we rattled through, safe with my man in charge. I saw his hand on the brakes as he said, ‘Greasy as ever in here, Frank – I’ll give her some sand.’ The wheels slowed as they gripped, then Ben’s voice came again, loud above the tumult of the tunnel. ‘Soon as we’re out of this you’ll have to lean well forward, lass, so you’re hidden by front of cab.’ I ducked my head in acknowledgement, breathing in the steam and the smoke. I bent forward as we ran out of the tunnel, as Ben had told me to. ‘Don’t touch boiler lass, it’ll scorch you. Frank, give her your injector wheel to hold, you can use mine. That’s right lass, just there – good girl.’