Hidden Currents

by Rowena Summers

  They were still officially ‘walking out’, but there wasn’t much walking or talking being done lately, she thought miserably. It was as though he’d taken note of her sharp tongue, and even sharper reactions to his love of fisticuffs, and decided he wanted little to do with it.

  He was what Elsie had astutely called ‘letting her down gently’. And she strongly suspected that as usual, Elsie was probably right.

  John would undoubtedly be pleased to hear of her new position as Miss Helen Barclay’s personal maid. It meant he wouldn’t have to pretend to enjoy calling on the irritating Carrie Stuckey any more, because she’d be too well occupied to go courting whenever she pleased. And just when she had started to feel on top of the world, it was the most depressing thought of all to cloud this sunny day.

  Chapter 9

  ‘I won’t allow it,’ Pa thundered, as soon as Carrie had gabbled out her news.

  She felt total shock at this reaction. His face was florid and sweating from drink, and he swayed on his feet, even though it was barely the middle of the day. It had become a habitual thing now for him to frequent the waterfront inns, morning and evening. It was ostensibly to enquire for work, and to take any drink that was offered.

  There was no money to spare for such luxuries, but Pa had always been a story-teller, and somehow he always managed to find a fellow willing to stand him a jug of ale in return for a salty tale or two. If Ma had strongly disapproved at first, she held her tongue now, rather than encourage his frequent frustrated rages, and merely commented that a man needed to forget his troubles whatever way he could.

  ‘Why won’t you allow it?’ Carrie stuttered, starting to feel as if the ground was reeling beneath her own feet, as well as her Pa’s.

  ‘Because you’ll end up getting up above yourself, miss, that’s why. And besides that, your Ma needs you here!’

  ‘I ain’t being put out to grass yet, just because I’m expecting,’ Ma said crossly. ‘I can still manage a day’s load of washing, and our Billy can do the hauling in two cartloads if need be. Our Carrie should be given her chance, Sam.’

  ‘I’ll say what’s to do here, woman, and I say ’tain’t right for the family to be split at this time,’ he ranted on, crashing his hand down on the parlour table to add weight to his words. He leaned there heavily, and for a moment Carrie wondered if he was going to have a seizure.

  ‘I’ve already told Miss Barclay I’ll take the job,’ she muttered. Her disappointment was acute, and all her pleasure was fizzling out by the minute at this furore. She’d thought they would all be so pleased

  ‘It’d be good for her, Pa.’ Frank had been lounging on the settle all this time, but he spoke up lazily now. ‘It would also help her get the likes of John Travis out of her system.’

  Carrie reddened furiously. She needed no reminders from her brother that John hadn’t come calling much recently, and didn’t seem inclined to do so again. But before she could say anything, Pa rounded on Frank at once.

  ‘When I want any spineless opinions from you, boy, I’ll ask for ’em. If I say Carrie ain’t to go working for they toffs, then there’s an end to it.’

  Frank was slow to anger, but when he did, his rages equalled those of Sam’s. He leapt to his feet now, his eyes blazing.

  ‘And I say the girl’s got a right to take any job she can, seeing as how the rest of us ain’t managing to bring tuppence into the house. I ain’t proud of leaning on my womenfolk, but if Carrie’s got this chance, and wants to do it, then I say we should all be thankful.’

  He got no farther before his father had cuffed him a stinging blow on the side of his head. Frank rocked on his heels for a moment, then, before anyone could guess what he was about, his hands were around Sam’s throat, and he was near to throttling him.

  ‘Frank, you’re killing him,’ Ma screamed. ‘Leave him be, for God’s sake!’

  For a moment, it seemed as if Frank wasn’t even hearing her. He was almost demented as he rattled Sam to and fro like a rag doll, and Sam’s fire seemed to be dissolving in front of their eyes. Ma dug her finger-nails into her son’s rigid hands, still screaming into his face.

  At last, with Carrie’s help, she managed to prise his hands away from her husband. Sam’s eyes were bulging now, and he glowered murderously at his son. He coughed and hawked, and swore volubly. He leaned heavily against the table.

  ‘I should have you horse-whipped for that, but I suppose I should be grateful at least that you’ve got some spunk in you,’ he said hoarsely, rubbing at his neck. ‘There were times when I wondered just what I’d spawned.’

  Frank snapped a reply, his voice as hard as iron.

  ‘I know you never thought as much of me as you did of our Wilf. And where do you suppose he is now? And where does he go of a night-time? Maybe your fine fellow’s gone soft-eyed over a few petticoats.’

  ‘Frank, don’t!’ Carrie moved swiftly in front of him, pleading silently for him to say nothing about Wilf’s association with Nora Woolley. They both knew about it now. They also knew that Gaffer Woolley had become Sam’s number one enemy ever since the man refused to employ any of the Stuckey men. Unemployment in the carpentry trade was general, but Sam took everything personally, and was slighted beyond measure at what he saw as Gaffer’s snub to a craftsman.

  Thankfully, Sam saw nothing significant in Frank’s words, and instead of probing for more information, he continued sneering at his second son.

  ‘Showing an interest in petticoats is normal, at least. ’Tis better than hanging around they seamen at the docks, and filling your head with tales of foreign places you’re never likely to see.’

  Frank took an angry breath. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong then. I wasn’t going to say nothing yet, and I hadn’t really made up my mind, but you’ve just made it up for me.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about now?’

  ‘I’m talking about going to sea.’

  ‘Frank, no,’ Ma beseeched. Her eyes had a rare shine of tears in them, and her hands strayed to her rounded belly as if the unborn child could give her comfort.

  ‘I’d be obliged if everybody could stop saying ‘Frank, no’, and ‘Frank, don’t’.’ He spoke with sudden calm, seeing that he’d got all their attention now. ‘I’ve got the chance and I’m taking it, the same as our Carrie should. With two of us gone from the house, there’ll be fewer mouths to feed come the winter.’

  Carrie saw that Ma’s face had gone ashen. She wouldn’t want the family to be split up like this. Ma’s whole aim in life was to keep the family together. But it couldn’t always be, and surely she must see that. All chicks had to leave their nests at some time in their lives, but Carrie wasn’t sure that Frank’s decision was helping her a great deal.

  ‘Good riddance to ’ee then,’ Pa snarled, and stumped out of the house, crashing the door behind him.

  * * *

  When he’d gone, there was complete silence in the parlour, and then Carrie realised that Ma was quietly sobbing. She went to her at once. It was practically unheard of to see Ma like this, and she felt helpless and inadequate. She put her arms around her mother, but in seconds she was brushed away. Ma hated sentiment, and as she recovered her usual stoical composure she spoke quickly to Frank.

  ‘You know your Pa didn’t really mean what he just said. It was the drink and the temper talking, that’s all.’

  ‘When a man’s the worse for drink, he frequently says what’s really in his heart,’ Frank said bitterly. ‘You know that as well as I do, Ma.’

  She ignored that for the moment. ‘But is this what you really want, my son? Or are you just doing it to give us fewer mouths to feed this winter? Because if that’s the case, then you’re wrong. I would never show a child of mine the door, no matter how poor we became, and you shame me by thinking so.’

  Frank came to sit beside her, taking her cold hands in his. She didn’t push him away, Carrie noted. Ma had always favoured Frank, perhaps because Pa was so down on him. T
he idea entered her head that Pa might even be jealous of the attention Ma had always given to Frank. He always appeared to be so carefree, but now he seemed to have an inner strength none of them had suspected.

  ‘I never thought that, and it was only his bullying that made me say so. I really do want to see faraway places and make my own way in the world. There’s sure to be carpentering jobs on the ships, so with luck I’ll still be following my trade, and I promise I’ll write letters to you from whatever place the ship takes me.’

  Ma spoke more slowly, hearing the determination in his voice. ‘’Tis right for you to follow your own needs, and I’ll not deny that. But I shall miss you badly.’

  ‘I’m not going for ever, Ma. They say the bad penny always turns up again.’

  ‘Don’t say that about yourself! There’s nothing bad about you.’

  The silence between them all became a little strained, and Carrie knelt down on the rag rug beside the other two.

  ‘I shall miss you too, Frank,’ she said softly, and he squeezed her shoulder gently without answering.

  She felt her eyes misting over. But she knew that Frank’s going must make no difference to her own plans. If anything, his stand against Pa made her all the more determined to take her own chance. As if Ma was reading her thoughts, she gave a small nod.

  ‘And tomorrow morning, our Carrie will be leaving for Clifton. You just leave your Pa to me, lamb, but say no more about it this day. He’ll come round to it in his own good time, but the less he actually hears about it, the better.’

  They all knew it was the way things had worked in the past, and they remained where they were for a while. They were a silent trio, who had always been so close, and whose paths were so soon to part.

  * * *

  ‘You won’t exactly be living there, will you?’ Elsie had said sarcastically, when she sought her out during the afternoon.

  ‘Of course I will. It’s a living-in job.’

  ‘But you’ll still be a skivvy. You won’t have the run of the house and be living the gracious life, the same as your snooty Miss Helen, will you? I bet you’ll be stuck up in some miserable attic room with six others. I’ve heard that’s what it’s like when you’re in service.’

  ‘You’re determined to spoil things for me, aren’t you, Elsie?’ Carrie said. ‘Why can’t anyone be pleased for me?’

  Elsie shrugged. She looked at Carrie slyly. ‘What about your young man then? Is he pleased for you?’

  ‘I haven’t told him yet. I’m going down to the ferry to see him later.’

  ‘So what do you think he’ll have to say about it?’ She wouldn’t leave it alone., stirring the pot as usual.

  ‘How do I know? I’m not inside his mind, am I?’ Carrie was getting rattled now, as the questioning went on.

  ‘You ain’t seen much of him lately, have you? I’ve seen him a couple of times, walking into the city on his own. I stopped to talk to him once.’

  ‘Well then, you probably know as much about his movements as I do,’ Carrie snapped, smarting even more at the thought of Elsie poking her nose into her affairs. They had once shared all their secrets, but since John Travis had come on the scene, there were things Carrie didn’t want to share with anyone.

  Most of all was the fact that she was no longer sure whether or not she loved him. She was dazzled by him, attracted to him, and she knew they owed him their Billy’s life, but was that enough to be called love? She sometimes ached to be with him, and to experience again all the sensations his caresses had awoken in her. But was that love, or something else? At night, alone in her bed in the darkness, she sometimes imagined she could feel his kisses on her mouth, and sometimes she turned restlessly, reaching out and longing for someone who wasn’t there … was that love?

  Late in the afternoon, when she had parted company with Elsie, it was with a vague feeling of defensiveness that she walked down to the ferry landing-stage. She knew she had to see John to tell him about her new job. It would never do for him to call at the Stuckey house to find her gone, but she didn’t look forward to the telling.

  So far, everyone who knew about it — except Frank — had managed to make her feel that she was doing the wrong thing. Even Wilf, when he’d heard, had seemed disinterested to the point of saying gruffly that if she thought it was the right thing to do, then it probably was. Which was just about as unhelpful as it could be.

  Carrie waited at the water’s edge where the slipway ran down to the river. It was choppy, with the breeze rippling across its surface like a giant’s hand, and she could see the swell of the tide lifting John’s boat and then sending it plunging slightly down again. It could make a body feel sea-sick just by watching it. She deliberately raised her eyes above the glittering undulations of the river to wave out to the man standing in the bow of his boat as it neared the landing-stage to discharge its group of passengers.

  John waved back, and Carrie suddenly felt her spirits glow in the same way as on that first day, when she’d seen him dripping wet and shaking his hair like a frisky puppy, as he hauled her small brother out of the churning water. Without warning, everything in the world seemed to turn the right way up again, and she waited with her heart beating fast as John stepped out of the boat and tied up, after helping the last of his passengers ashore.

  ‘This is a very welcome surprise,’ he said, smiling down at her. He took her hand in his and squeezed it hard, and then he ran one finger around her cheek in a way that made her shiver. ‘I’ve missed you lately, Carrie.’

  ‘Have you?’ she said huskily. And whose fault is that? she wanted to ask. It’s not my place to come calling for you.

  He glanced around quickly. Several ladies and gentlemen were taking an evening stroll along the waterfront, and may well be wanting the ferry to take them across to the other side. There was little else along this way to take their interest, unless they were looking at the trading ships, or merely slumming it.

  ‘Get in the boat and I’ll take you on a special trip,’ he said. ‘It’s the best way of being alone together.’

  She supposed it was. No-one could reach them once they were out in the river, and to all intents and purposes she would seem to be a paying passenger. She stepped into the boat gingerly, and waited until John steered it away from the landing-stage. After a few moments she realised they were heading well down-river and across to where the trees and shrubby undergrowth of Leigh Woods lay on the opposite side to the Hotwell Spa.

  ‘If we’re going to be alone, we might as well make the most of it,’ John said with a grin. ‘I’ll tie up at one of the stakes, and we’ll be quite secluded in the woods.’

  The shiver that ran through her then was a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She realised that John saw her appearance as an invitation, as well as a mute apology for all the times they had been so stiff and awkward together recently. It was the first time she had sought him out, but he didn’t know yet that what she had to tell him was going to push them farther apart. But perhaps it could wait just a little while longer.

  * * *

  ‘God, but I didn’t realise just how much I had missed you,’ he breathed, when they had made a short climb through the undergrowth to one of the grassy little copses in the lower part of the woods.

  They lay full-length on the grass now, and Carrie ignored the fact that it was probably damp, and that she’d be in danger of catching pneumonia and never get to work for Miss Helen Barclay in her luxurious surroundings after all.

  It was easy to ignore such trivialities when John Travis was covering her body with his own, and pressing kisses onto her mouth, just as he did in her dreaming moments. And there was never a single doubt in her mind then, that she loved him.

  ‘I’ve missed you too, John,’ she said in a slightly strangled voice as his hand reached down and covered her breast. The fabric of her dress was between them, but even so, the touch of his fingers was as hot as fire against her flesh.

  ‘I want to touch you and h
old you, and never let you go,’ he whispered the words against her mouth. ‘Do you know what I mean, my darling girl?’

  ‘I — I think so,’ she said vaguely.

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘I don’t think you do, love. I don’t think you have any idea of how potent you are to a man.’

  ‘Potent?’ she echoed, not understanding his meaning.

  ‘As potent as fuel to a flame. And you set me on fire just as rapidly. I’ve dreamed of holding you like this, sweet Carrie.’

  ‘Pinning me beneath you, you mean,’ she said, finding it hard to breathe, and needing to lighten the undeniably charged atmosphere between them.

  She wasn’t sure she could deal with his intensity. Yet she longed to discover all the secrets between a man and a woman. Elsie knew … or pretended that she did … and there was no-one in the world she would want to learn them from, other than John Travis.

  She gave a small breathless sigh, and he looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Do I frighten you, Carrie? You know I would never hurt you.’

  ‘You don’t frighten me,’ she answered slowly. ‘But I don’t know what you expect of me.’

  She felt his hand leave her breast and move downwards. She felt him lift her skirts and the sensation of the balmy autumn air on her skin was unexpected and heady. His touch on her thigh moved so gently inwards she hardly realised what was happening until it reached its goal. She closed her eyes, frozen with indecision, knowing she should stop this now, but somehow quite unable to. She needed to know about this mysterious sensation that she had felt once before, but never so exquisitely as this.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, Carrie,’ she heard him say huskily. ‘And too damned innocent for your own good.’

  She was shocked as he finished speaking almost accusingly. Her eyes flew open, as she realised he was pulling her skirts down again, and rolling away from her.

  ‘Have I done something to offend you, or have I hurt you in some way?’ she said in a small voice, hearing how raggedly he was breathing.

  He gave a short laugh. ‘I could say yes, but I’d be lying. There was no man yet who died of an affliction like mine as far as I know.’