‘You and half the city, Stuckey, but I ain’t got nothing to offer you for the present,’ Woolley said, his eyes glinting. ‘Nor do I take kindly to young upstarts coming to my home and begging.’
‘I’ve never begged for anything in my life, man,’ aWilf felt his temper beginning to erupt. ‘My family needs work, and you ain’t denying that we’ve always given you good service.’
‘You’ve got spunk, I’ll say that for you. But what makes you think I owe you summat?’
‘You owe us some consideration for the years we’ve given you. It’s folk like us who’ve enabled you to live in a fine house and have good food in your bellies. If it weren’t for the craftsmanship of people like the Stuckeys, there’d be no businesses for the gaffers to own.’
By now, Wilf knew he was losing control, but he believed in what he was saying. He saw the mockery in standing here arguing with a man who could be as implacable as a solid wall when he chose. He was never going to win this argument, but the fact just made him the more determined to have his say now. He was very conscious of being on the outside of these tall filigree iron gates, while Gaffer Woolley — and his daughter Nora — were on the other side, where the velvet lawns stretched away towards the large stone-built house he could just glimpse beyond them.
Aaron Woolley thrust out his massive arms, his hands on his hips. His gold watch-chain quivered on his great stomach, and his expression was even more bull-like as he glowered at the tall young man in front of him, who’d dared to confront him like this.
‘And that’s cooked your goose for once and all,’ he bellowed. ‘Don’t let me see you or any of your family in my boatyard again, you hear? Carpenters are ten a penny in the city now, and when I want to employ one, I’ll not be looking for one named Stuckey!’
‘They may be ten a penny, but you’ll not find any as good, so just you remember that,’ Wilf bellowed back.
He turned away in a red rage, but not before he’d glimpsed the silk skirts of Nora and her mother, hurrying across the lawns to see what all the rumpus was about. Wilf had been sick to his stomach, thinking his goose was truly cooked in all directions now. He’d done for his folks, and he’d done for himself. No job, no prospects, no girl …
But he’d reckoned without the determination of Nora. He’d marched off to the nearby Ashton Park, in the blackest mood of his life, and a short while later, he’d seen the same cream-coloured silk skirts he’d glimpsed earlier as Nora had sat down on the wooden seat beside him. She had put a tentative hand on his arm.
‘Don’t be too distressed, Wilf. Pa will come round in time, I know he will. It’s well known that his bark’s always worse than his bite.’
‘That may be so, but I hardly expected you to speak to me again after my show of temper, nor to seek me out,’ he said after a pause. ‘I thought that was the end of whatever small friendship we had, Nora.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘Of course it’s not what I bloody well want,’ he said, forgetting he was talking to a lady in his frustration.
‘It’s not what I want either,’ Nora said quietly. ‘So what are we going to do about it, Wilf?’
He heard the tremulous note in her voice. He looked into her soft hazel eyes, and saw in them all that he wanted to see. The man in him surged to the fore, blinding him to anything else but the fact that this lovely girl was his for the asking. Her father was forgotten as he took her waiting hands in his, and felt their trembling. And he was lost.
* * *
And now here he was, on his way to another of the almost daily clandestine meetings that had taken place since then, and hating more and more the secrecy of it all. He’d always been a private person, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to share his feelings with the world. He wanted everyone to know that he adored Miss Nora Woolley, and that she loved him in return. And it was the very last thing he was able to do.
If her father knew, Nora would be forbidden to leave the house at all, and she had begged him not to do anything foolish. So he kept his frustration under control as best he could, while they made the most of their time together in the shrubbery of the their favourite silent copse in Ashton Park, where the song of the birds in the foliage high above them created a melodic accompaniment to their loving.
And very loving it had become. By now, he knew every contour of her soft womanly shape, and the taste of her kisses. He had whispered words of love he’d hardly known were invented, and amazed himself at the ease with which he said them. And Nora responded with all the ardour he could wish for. But sometimes, the frustration of his situation came through, no matter how much he tried to suppress it when he was with her.
‘I wish I had more to offer you than these hole-and-corner meetings, sweetheart,’ he said, as she lay in the crook of his arm. ‘If only I could find work so that your father would have more respect for me.’
‘Shush, Wilf,’ Nora said, her finger against his mouth. ‘You know I respect you, and that’s all that matters.’
‘But it’s not. Not if I want to obtain my dream.’
‘And what might that dream be, may I ask?’
His troubled face relaxed as he looked down into her teasing face. ‘You know well enough, you minx. But if I were to ask your father for your hand, he’d expire on the spot. My only hope would be to run away with you and make you my slave.’
Nora laughed, enjoying the dreams they both shared. ‘I suspect that he’d expire mainly because we haven’t known one another long enough to know our own minds.’
‘Haven’t we?’ Wilf said.
She drew in her breath as he looked deep into her eyes, and knew that nothing and no-one could make her change from wanting Wilf Stuckey, no matter who or what he was. He was right for her, and although she daren’t mention Wilf’s name at home just yet, somehow her father must be made to see it, no matter how long it took.
She didn’t answer the question with words. Instead, she drew Wilf’s face down to hers, oblivious to everything but the fact that she loved him beyond all reason.
* * *
Carrie paused for breath at the top of Bedminster Hill, accepting the fact that John’s helping hand had been very necessary for the climb. It was odd how she and Billy could struggle up the steep hill to Clifton with their laundry cart and hardly feel winded, yet over these grassy slopes on the opposite side of the river, she had almost had the breath knocked out of her.
‘Are you all right?’ John said now, as she pressed her hand to her chest.
‘I think so. I don’t know why I should feel so out of breath when I’m so used to walking.’
‘It’s probably because the hills on your side are hemmed in by buildings, so you don’t get the same feeling of space as we do over here,’ he said.
She wasn’t sure if he was being complacent or patronising, or just plain telling it as it was. She was still nervous at being alone with him, and therefore she was starting to see hidden meanings in all that he said. It was unreasonable and annoying, when she wanted to be as carefree as Elsie would be on such a glorious day. She turned to look behind her, and felt a great dizziness wash over her.
‘Steady on, there. I don’t want you rolling back down the hill,’ John said.
But she hardly heard him. She was still saucer-eyed at the panorama spread out before her. In all her years, she had never climbed this hill. Why should she, when there was no reason for crossing over to the other side of the river? And she was awed to discover there was truth in what John had said. There was so much more space up here. So much green beneath their feet, and so much blue sky above them.
It was a different feeling to being on the Clifton Downs, which undulated very gradually in places, and in others were quite flat. Here, the great sweep of the hillside stretched from the heights where they stood now, down to the great winding river that had made generations of Bristol merchants rich. The river throbbed with life now, with the forest of masts of the larger ships, and the ever-moving busy
little river-boats, forming a basin between the twin hills of Clifton and Bedminster.
‘Now I see just why it was named the Cumberland Basin,’ she said suddenly. ‘It truly is a basin, isn’t it?’
‘It truly is,’ John said, smiling, ‘and it was worth every bit of the climb to see how your eyes shine, Carrie. Your eyes are as blue as the sky today, and just as fathomless.’
Her heart jolted at the words, and she spoke awkwardly. ‘I’m not used to such compliments, John, so you must forgive me if I don’t respond to them in the way you would wish.’
‘Has no-one ever paid you compliments before? No other young man? I can hardly believe that.’
He dropped down on to the grass, holding out his hand to her, and after a moment’s indecision, she sank down beside him. She was thankful for the brief rest, despite the ridiculous arranging of her hooped petticoats that made such a performance out of a simple act.
‘You’ve met my Pa,’ she said wryly in answer to his question. ‘You’ll know by now that he doesn’t take easily to outsiders, let alone young men who want to come courting.’
‘I hope there’s only going to be one young man coming courting from now on,’ John said, turning to half-lean over her. His body blotted out the sun for a moment, and Carrie was sure he was about to kiss her.
She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and the weight of him was beginning to press down on her. And she simply took fright. She turned her face away quickly, aware that he was breathing more heavily than before. The exertion of the climb had stilled her own breathing a little by now, so she knew that wasn’t the reason for it.
‘Why are you afraid of me, Carrie?’ she heard him say.
He wasn’t making any attempt to force her into a kiss, she thought suddenly, feeling very foolish now. Elsie would have enjoyed this, teasing and inviting, and pouting her lips, no matter what the consequences, Carrie thought. She was being so very naive.
‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Are you afraid of yourself, then?’
‘I don’t know what you mean by that. How can I be afraid of myself?’
‘A person can be afraid of their own emotions, Carrie. You could be afraid that if I were to kiss you, or touch you, you might suddenly discover there’s no longer a nervous little girl inside that pretty gown, but a woman, with all a woman’s desires.’
She realised he had suddenly become very intense. She could hear it in his voice, and see it in the darkening of his eyes.
‘I’m not nervous,’ she said, the quickness of her voice belying the words. ‘I’m older than Elsie, and nobody could call her a nervous anything.’
‘Don’t even compare yourself with Elsie,’ John said, his voice rougher now. Without warning he covered her breast with his hand. ‘Elsie would probably squirm and squeal if I did this, while I wager that you have no idea of the pleasure it can bring to a man, and a woman too.’
She lay perfectly still. She didn’t deny that it felt very pleasant to have his hand covering her breast, but she couldn’t see what excitement it was supposed to evoke. It was just warm and comforting, and it was only when his hand began to move, in so gentle a caressing movement that she hardly noticed it, that she was aware of feelings inside her that she didn’t know existed. There were deep stirrings of the mind as well as the body, and a sudden sweet arousal in the part of her that he was kneading rather more urgently now.
‘John, please, I’m sure there are other folk on the hill,’ she gasped. But there were none that could see them. They were isolated in a small pocket of sweet-smelling grass, and he gave a sort of strangled sound in his throat as he pulled her to him and kissed her on the mouth.
It was just as Elsie had said. She didn’t need any instruction. Her arms moved around his back and held him as close as he held her, her fingers entwining in the hair at the back of his neck. Her mouth was warm and fast against his, her breasts flattened against the hardness of his chest, and she knew the first sensations of erotic need for another human being. She never wanted the kiss to end, and her face was feverish when it did, knowing she had clung to him so madly.
He traced his fingers around her lips, and she was tongue-tied all over again. John’s voice was still thicker than usual.
‘You see, my love? You may have the looks of an angel, but there’s all the fire of the devil in you.’
She didn’t know how to answer him. His words charmed her, but they alarmed her too. They alerted in her all the warnings her Ma had tried to tell her in her clumsy, embarrassed way. A girl could arouse a man without even knowing it, and there was no knowing where such wickedness could lead. She pushed John’s hands away from her body, and got to her feet.
As he stood beside her, she almost lost her balance, and she swayed against him for a moment. If she was truly in love, it was such a topsy-turvy emotion that she didn’t know whether she liked it or hated it. The euphoria of the discovery was somehow slipping away from her. She saw John grimace as her hands gripped his for support, and she saw his recently broken knuckles, the same as her brother’s.
She was brought back to reality with a rude little shock, knowing it was something she’d meant to get clear in her mind.
‘Why were you fighting with our Wilf the other day?’ she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
He didn’t answer as they completed the climb to the top of the long, steep hill, and he let go of her hand as they reached the very top. It seemed ominous to Carrie, as if he was mentally ridding himself of anyone who was associated with the aggressive Wilf Stuckey. But that couldn’t be, she thought, pushing the unwelcome thought aside. No-one who had kissed her as John had done, could reject her so readily.
‘Your brother needed teaching a lesson,’ he said, in a voice several degrees cooler than before.
‘And what made you think you were the one to teach him anything?’ Carrie said, instantly defensive. The arrogance of his statement took her by surprise. Who did John Travis think he was, anyway?
‘I don’t like being accused of taking advantage of a young girl and wheedling my way into her house,’ he said shortly.
‘Oh?’ she said, smarting at the words ‘young girl’, which were so much less attractive to her ears than the woman he’d so lately thought her. ‘And what were you doing minutes ago, may I ask, if you weren’t taking advantage?’
She hadn’t meant to say such a thing. She knew she had been willing and pliant in his arms, and she was surprised at how fervently she longed to be there again. But they might have been two strangers again, from the cold and distant way they faced one another now. His voice oozed sarcasm.
‘I apologise if I offended you, Carrie. I thought I’d found a kindred spirit in you, and not a little girl who would take fright the first time a man touches her.’
She ignored his implication that of course it was the first time a man had touched her or got close to her. It must have been so obvious … but wasn’t that what every man wanted in a woman? It was what Ma had said. Her words had been solemn, and almost biblical. Every man wanted his woman to be pure and untouched by another when he brought her to the marriage bed … Carrie flinched, wondering if she had already sullied her own bright image by allowing John Travis to caress her so intimately.
‘Please don’t look so downcast,’ he said, less sternly now. ‘And I’d prefer to forget what happened between your brother and me. I’m sure he’s forgotten it by now.’
Carrie was quite sure he had not. Wilf rarely forgot an insult, and sometimes he bore a grudge for far too long … but she knew she had the choice now of brooding on it and letting it spoil the day, or putting it to the back of her mind — at least for now.
‘It’s already forgotten,’ she lied. ‘Do we have much farther to go?’
‘We’re almost there. Do you see the house across the street with the white fence around the garden?’
Carrie gaped. The house was larger than she had imagined, and beyond the low f
ence she could see that there was a big garden with outside chairs and a sun canopy for idling. A house with a garden was something Carrie yearned for above all. Their own backyard was so small, and constantly filled with the billowing lines of other folks’ washing which blocked out the daylight. Up here on Bedminster Hill, she thought again that there was more sky than she had ever seen in her life before.
She felt the dampness in her palms as John pushed open the gate in the white fence, and stood aside for her to enter the garden. The scents of roses and honeysuckle drifted into her nostrils, and the hum of bees busy about their work mingled with the lively sounds of crickets and other insects in the flower borders. To Carrie, starved of such perfection in the crowded cottages of the city dwellings, it was idyllic.
‘Are you a gardener as well?’ she asked.
‘Not me. I can just about tell one plant from another, but it’s my uncle’s passion. He and Mrs Ryan spend as many hours in the garden as they can.’
‘You haven’t mentioned Mrs Ryan before,’ Carrie said.
‘She’s my uncle’s friend. I’d say she was intended, but it’s more like the other way around. Uncle Oswald’s resisting like the very devil, but Mrs Ryan is tired of being a widow-woman, and has every intention of getting my uncle to the altar. You’ll find her interesting, Carrie.’
‘Is she going to be here today then?’ The prospect of another woman was moderately reassuring, and the idea of two old people fencing around one another, the one determined on marriage, and the other just as determined to avoid it, tickled her imagination.
‘She wouldn’t miss meeting you. She’ll dispense tea, and try to find out everything about you, but she means well.’
They had reached the front door by now, and John pushed it open, calling out that they had arrived. The elderly man whom Carrie had last seen in shabby boatman’s gear came out of the parlour to greet her, and she had a job not to show her surprise. He was every bit as dapper as his nephew now, his grey hair smooth and unruffled by any river breeze, and he wore neat, smart clothes.
Hidden Currents Page 10