by Jess Foley
She went through the gateway into the park and walked along the gravel path. Eventually she came to a vacant bench beside it and here she stopped and sat down. From her bag she took her watch and looked at the time, judging the hour when she must return to Mrs Hoggins’s house. She settled herself to wait.
There were very few people about. A young mother came by with two small children, one of whom was throwing up a ball. An elderly man and woman strolled past, an old terrier walking along at their heels. A young man came riding a bicycle. She watched them all, briefly thinking of the lives they were living. If they only knew, she thought, of what was going through her own mind; of what was to happen to her body in a very short time.
She dreaded returning to see Mrs Hoggins, but she felt she had no choice if she was to get on with her life. Besides, she had made her decision and she would stick to it. That was the purpose of her being there. Now that she was so close, so close to the thing being done, she could think ahead to what she would do once the ordeal was over. She was in a position to make plans. One thing was certain, she could no longer stay with Mrs Obdermann, even though she would cease to be in her present delicate situation. In fact she did not know how she could ever face the woman again, even during the short time she was to remain at the house. Yes, she must find new lodgings as soon as possible.
Perhaps, she thought, it would be better to move back to Capinfell, give up her job at Seager’s and get right away from Redbury. She thought how pleased her father would be, were she to return to live in the family home. How lonely he must be, she thought: in the space of just a few weeks he had lost his wife, and his remaining daughter living at home had gone to seek her future elsewhere. He would not necessarily show it, but he would surely be very happy if she should return to live with him.
Which she could do, of course, and possibly she could find work at Cremson’s again – or if not Cremson’s there was bound to be something else available to her. She had no fears of forced unemployment. There were other factories, and no end of shops and other establishments needing employees.
She suddenly had a picture of Mr Canbrook’s draper’s shop. She saw it bustling and busy on a market day, and then as she had seen it last Sunday, when it was closed to customers, with the shutters up, the covers over the goods and the rain lashing down against the window. She thought again of Mr Canbrook’s proposal. How unreal it was, how strange, and how impossible too.
The minutes passed by. Dragged by. When she thought of going back to Mrs Hoggins’s house the sweat broke out under her arms and on her palms, and she clenched her fists and waited for the moments of panic to subside. What was she about to do? Apart from the dread of the operation that was to take place – and she had heard something of what happened in such instances – there was also the thought that she was destroying a life. But what choice did she have?
At last the hour passed, and she got up from the bench and set off back the way she had come.
It did not take her long to reach the house and, her mind in a kind of daze, she walked up the path to the front door and rapped with the knocker. Mrs Hoggins answered it almost immediately and quickly drew Lydia inside.
‘Well, here you are, dear,’ the woman beamed as she closed the front door. ‘I’m sorry about having to abandon you for a while, but you understand, I’m sure. My lady down the road is near her time, and nature doesn’t wait around. Anyway, come on through.’
She led the way along the passage, past a rising flight of stairs, and to a door at the end that opened into a scullery.
‘Here we are. We shall be all right’ ere.’
Lydia followed her into the untidy room. Unwashed dishes were stacked up on a draining board and on shelves. The table in the centre of the room was bare of everything except a sheet of oil cloth.
‘Did you go to the public?’ the woman asked conversationally.
‘No. I sat in the park.’
‘Well, that’s nice. The weather’s particularly nice right now.’ She smiled. ‘Now, I’m not going to ask you your name, dear. It’s none of my business, in any case. So no names, no pack drill, eh?’
She moved then and closed the door, and a moment after she did so there came from some other room the distant yell of a child, followed by a long, squalling wail. Mrs Hoggins cocked her head and clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, take no notice of that,’ she said. ‘My two grandchildren are staying with me right now, but they won’t come in’ ere.’ Her tone turned brisk as she added, ‘Well, would you like to take off your jacket and bonnet dear? You might as well be comfortable. Not that you’ll be’ ere that long.’
Lydia put her bag down on a chair, then took off her bonnet and jacket.
‘Now,’ Mrs Hoggins said, ‘before we go any further, dear, we must settle up the matter of the payment. You’ve brought money with you, have you?’
‘Yes.’ The word was barely more than whispered.
‘That’s good. I’d like to help out young ladies for nothing, but I’m afraid it’s just not possible. How much did you bring, dear?’
Lydia reached for her bag. ‘I’ve got eleven shillings . . .’
Mrs Hoggins’s face was a picture. ‘Eleven shillings, I’m afraid that’s not going to get us far, is it? The cost is eighteen shillin’, dear.’
‘But – that’s all I’ve got, and I was told that that was your – your charge. Eleven shillings or so. Or in the region of that.’
‘Oh, no, I ‘aven’t charged as little as that in years. I’m afraid times don’t get easier, dear; they gets ‘arder. I’ll wager you’ve noticed that yourself. And I don’t notice prices goin’ down in the shops, do you? Oh, no, dear, I’m very sorry, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to do any business today. You’ll ‘ave to try somebody else. My charge is eighteen shillin’, and not a penny less.’
‘But – oh, I don’t know anyone else and – this is all the money I’ve got. I’ve only been in my new job a few weeks. I just haven’t got any more.’
Mrs Hoggins’s eyes were wide, and untouched by sympathy. ‘Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it? But I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for you, dear.’
‘But – but I’ve come all the way from Redbury and –’
‘Yes, dear, we know all about that. We’ve all got our sad tales to tell, and you’re no different from the others who come’ ere.’
Mrs Hoggins folded her arms and stood there in silence, lips pressed together. Lydia realised that the next move was up to her. ‘Could I – could I send you the rest when I get my wages?’ she said tentatively.
‘No, I’m sorry, miss.’ Mrs Hoggins’s tone was a little more businesslike. ‘That’s not the way we do things, I’m afraid. Sad to say but that kind of thing never works. I tried it in the past, but somehow the young ladies forget, and I end up doing it all for next to nothing. No, no, it ‘as to be money on the spot or there’s no business.’ She paused. ‘Have you got something besides your bit of money? Some jewellery, perhaps.’
Lydia raised her hand to touch a little cameo brooch she wore at her throat. ‘Well, I’ve got this,’ she said, and unclipped it and handed it to the woman.
Mrs Hoggins squinted over it and sniffed. ‘I’m afraid that won’t get you far, dear, bit of tin like that.’ She handed the brooch back to Lydia who sadly pinned it back to her blouse.
‘You’ve got nothing else?’ the woman said.
‘Well . . .’ Lydia took a deeper breath and said, ‘Well, I’ve got a watch. A gold half-hunter. It was my mother’s.’
Almost before Lydia had finished speaking Mrs Hoggins put out her hand, open palm up. ‘You got it with you now, ‘ave you? Let’s see it, then.’
Lydia found herself moving to her bag again, looking into it and bringing out her mother’s watch. She held it in her hand, her hand close to her breast, still unsure what to do, but Mrs Hoggins was in no such doubt, and she reached out and took it and held it close to her face. She opened it, studied it for a moment or two, then clos
ed it again. Looking up at Lydia she said: ‘And you’ve got eleven shillings as well, ‘ave you?’
‘Oh, yes, but – but surely not my money and the watch as well. I was only –’
Mrs Hoggins cut in, ‘Look, it’s entirely up to you, dear. The work I do is very – very sensitive, and it’s work that not many women can do, I can tell you that. I can do it because of all my training, but such work don’t come cheap. Like I said, if you want to look around for somebody who’ll do it cheaper, then that’s up to you, but you’ll ‘ave an ‘ard job, I’ll tell you that for nothin’. So what’s it to be, dear. I’m afraid you’ll’ ave to make up your mind as I’m a busy woman and I ‘aven’t got time to waste. I’ve got other things to do.’ She paused briefly, then added, her head cocked a little, as in a gesture of sympathy and understanding, ‘I’ll tell you what, dear. I’d like to be kind to you, so I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I won’t take all your money – though others would, you can be sure – but not me. I’ll take just six shillin’ and the watch and we’ll call it quits, all right?’
Lydia gazed at her for a moment and then, biting her lip, gave an almost imperceptible nod. There was nothing for it but to go ahead. She could not stop now. She dipped back into her bag and this time brought out her purse. From it she took out three florins and laid them in Mrs Hoggins’s outstretched palm.
The money and the watch Mrs Hoggins then deposited in a drawer which she pulled out from the end of the table. ‘Well, that’s settled, eh?’ she said, and now she beamed at Lydia again. ‘Money matters are never the most pleasant to discuss, are they? But it’s essential that they be got out of the way first of all. I’m sure you agree.’ She looked at Lydia judiciously. ‘You missed your monthly, did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you being sick in the mornings?‘
‘Yes. I don’t bring anything up except bile, though.’
‘That’s neither’ ere nor there. And your titties . . .’ Here the woman reached out and squeezed Lydia’s left breast. As Lydia winced, the woman said, ‘Tender, eh? Yes, I shouldn’t think there’s any possible doubt about it. You’re in the family way, my dear, you can depend on it.’ Without warning she lifted Lydia’s skirt and laid her right hand on her belly. Through the fabric of Lydia’s underclothing she briefly prodded and kneaded the flesh. ‘How far along are you, dear?’ she asked.
‘Just – just over five weeks.’
‘Mm-hm.’ Mrs Hoggins nodded and lowered her hand and dropped Lydia’s skirt. ‘Why don’t you take your gloves off, dear,’ she said.
Lydia did so, and dropped them into the crown of her bonnet. Mrs Hoggins, watching her, said, ‘I see you’re not married. You’re not wearing a wedding ring. So what ‘appened? You don’t look like the kind of girl who plays fast and loose, nor the kind you see ‘angin’ about the pub door on a Saturday. Did you have a young man who left you in the lurch?’
Lydia did not answer, but frowned in her distress. She only wanted the whole business to be over with.
Ignoring Lydia’s silence the woman said, ‘Oh, some men can be absolute monsters, dear, I know. Half of’ em have only got one thing on their minds, and once they’ve got it they’re off into the blue yonder, never to be seen again.’ Then, seeing the stricken look on Lydia’s face, she added quickly, ‘Mind you, not all of’ em are like that. Well, whatever is the truth, we can all make mistakes, can’t we, and all I can tell you is that it’s a good thing you come to me. We’ll get you sorted out, dear, and then you can go on’ ome and get on with your life again.’
The woman went to a cupboard, opened it, and took out a wooden box, which she brought to the table. All the time as she moved she talked. ‘You say you live in Redbury, dear?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’ve’ elped out ladies from Redbury before, and I don’t doubt I’ll do so again.’ She turned back to the box, lifted the hinged lid and took out a long instrument that looked like a piece of straight wire. She took a none-too-clean-looking towel from a rail and laid this down on the table, then set the instrument on it. ‘Where will you be going when you leave’ ere, miss?’ she asked.
‘Where? Why – why, back to Redbury.’
‘I’d wager nobody knows you’ve come’ ere today, is that so?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you mustn’t mention it, dear, not to nobody.’
‘No – no, of course not.’
‘That’s it, dearie. When you get back you’ll need to go and lie down for a while – and you go straight’ ome, all right? Don’t you go walking about the town at all until this is all past, you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s going to be some blood, so I suggest you get some towels ready, as soon as you gets in, all right? It’ll be a very bright red, the blood, but don’t be alarmed, you’ll be all right.’
Lydia could feel her temples throbbing, while her heart hammered in her breast. She felt very hot.
‘Now, dear,’ Mrs Hoggins said, ‘you slip off your drawers and get up on the table, all right? And pull your skirt up round your waist.’
Lydia just stood there. Mrs Hoggins looked at her with a little expression of impatience flitting across her narrow features. ‘Come on, dear. We ‘aven’t got all day.’
Lydia began to lift her skirt, and in that same moment the door burst open and a child of about four came into the room. A little boy, he was quite naked except for a stained shirt that came down to just above his waist. Seeing Mrs Hoggins, he stretched out his filthy hands to her and gave a wail. Mrs Hoggins cursed under her breath and went to him. ‘I won’t be a second, miss,’ she said over her shoulder to Lydia, and snatched the child up in her arms. ‘You come along o’ me, young master,’ she said sharply, irritably, and marched through the door. A second later Lydia heard the sound of her feet on the stairs.
Lydia stood there while panic and fear swept over her in a great wave, and she suddenly knew that she could not go through with it. Whatever the outcome, she could not suffer this violation to her body, and she could not allow this dreadful creature to kill the little life that was in her.
In seconds she had picked the gloves out of her bonnet and stuffed them into her bag. In a few more her jacket was back on, and her bonnet was on her head. She could not wait another moment. She rushed to the open door, and dashed through it into the passage beyond. As she got to the front door and flung it open, she heard from behind her Mrs Hoggins’s voice, calling out in puzzled outrage, ‘Where are you goin’ to, miss?’ But Lydia was through the door and hurrying away down the path. She did not look back.
Chapter Fifteen
Back at the house in Little Marsh Street Lydia let herself into the hall. To her relief there was no sight or sound of Mrs Obdermann, and she quickly went up the stairs to her room. Later, at six-thirty, she crept back down to the dining room and saw that the landlady had left out on the table a plate of cold meat, potatoes and pickles. Lydia managed to eat a little of it – it was the first she had eaten all day – and then went back up to her room. There, lying on her bed, she once again thought over her situation.
She had taken a step by running from the woman in Merinville, and that running had left her precisely back where she started. She did, of course, have the option of going back and having the operation carried out, but she knew that that would not happen. She had committed herself now, and she would not turn back. What, then, was she going to do?
One thing for certain was that if she remained in Redbury she would have to find new lodgings – but that would not work either, for her condition could not remain a secret for long. In two or three months it would start to show, and soon after there would be no means whatever of hiding the fact.
What if she went to Capinfell? Her father would be pleased to have her back in the family home, but what would happen when he became aware of her condition?
And what about her child? When the baby was born she wanted the best for it. What should she do? T
he questions turned over in her mind.
By the time she fell asleep, late that night, she was no nearer finding any answers.
Arriving at the store at her usual time the next morning she went first to see Mr Watson, the superintendent of the postal order department and apologised for missing the previous day’s work, and said that she had been indisposed. He responded by saying that he thought she had been looking a little pale just lately and hoped that she was feeling better. She thanked him and went to her work-table. It would not be long before she was leaving the company altogether.
The interminable day dragged on while she arranged various sales and wrote to customers about their orders, but eventually five-thirty came round and it was time to leave. She put on her hat and jacket, took up her bag and joined the other clerks making their way from the staff entrance.
As she stepped out onto the pavement, a figure came forward from her right, moving into her path.
‘Mr Canbrook.’ She came to a halt, facing him.
‘Hello, Miss Halley . . . Lydia.’ He was holding a small bunch of miniature roses, and a little self-consciously offered them to her. ‘I brought you these,’ he said.
‘Well . . . thank you.’ She took the flowers from him. ‘How nice of you.’
The other office workers were streaming around them, and Lydia stepped over towards the wall of the building, out of their way. Mr Canbrook moved with her.
‘What are you doing in Redbury?’ she asked.
‘I had a little business here, and I thought I’d take advantage of the situation and call on you. I didn’t have your address, but you told me where you were working.’
Lydia smiled. ‘Well – it’s quite a surprise, seeing you here.’
He hesitated then said, ‘Are you in a hurry to go somewhere?’