A Complicated Woman

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Ah.’ Nat cleared his throat. ‘As a matter o’ fact, she’ll be coming to Australia with us an’ all. Oh, I might as well tell you: she’s me daughter. There, so now you know. If you don’t want to come to me wedding that’s up to you, but t’offer’s there.’

  ‘Well, I know that!’ Spud beheld the other as if he were the idiot. Nat was astounded. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It’s been common gossip for years that you’d got somebody in the pudding club when you were a—’

  ‘Eh! I want none o’ that kind o’ talk at my wedding.’

  ‘Sorry. We all just took it for granted that you’d given her a job ’cause she were your lass.’

  ‘All?’ Nat frowned. ‘How many people know?’

  ‘Well, all them as work for you – but don’t worry, they’d never look down on you! And me and the missus’d be honoured to come to your wedding – even if it is a bit late!’ He guffawed and nudged Nat, who beat a hurried departure, telling Spud to broadcast the invitation to his other employees.

  ‘God I wish I’d never opened me mouth about inviting any of ’em!’ he wailed at Bright, having made his confession that everyone apparently knew Oriel was his daughter. ‘Sorry if I’ve embarrassed you.’

  Bright, preparing dinner, said it couldn’t be helped, though she looked concerned. ‘But will they be expecting a meal? It’ll be hopeless trying to organize—’

  ‘Oh, I aren’t inviting them here!’ He beheld her as if this were a ridiculous suggestion. ‘They’re only employees.’

  ‘You can’t expect them to get dressed up for a wedding and not feed them! No, no, I’m not being shown up like that.’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve made a mess of it, haven’t I? I were only trying to make it a day to remember for you.’ Nat offered a lame suggestion. ‘You could give them a bit o’ cake and wine.’

  She lifted a joint from the oven, looking flustered as she tried to get the dinner ready. ‘I haven’t got a cake! It’d take a miracle to get hold of the ingredients and anyway it’d be no good making it today, it would crumble to bits. Ye have to let it stand for weeks before ye can cut into it.’

  ‘I can’t really go and uninvite ’em now,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Oh – just go in there and let me get on with this dinner! We’ll discuss it later.’ After he had slunk from the kitchen Bright realized to her horror that they had been together for only five days and already she had started to treat him as if they had been married for years. It was only because she felt so comfortable with him – but would Nat understand that? What if he should leave her before the wedding? What if he were on his way to the front door right now? Her stomach churned as she carried the meat dish to the table and, after gaining only slight relief that he had not left immediately, she began to carve.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ mumbled Nat, and made to divest her of the carving knife and fork. If she says no I’ll kill her, he swore to himself.

  Bright glanced up at him and it suddenly occurred to her through the haze of confusion that this was another mistake she had made; it was always the man of the house who carved the joint. So accustomed was she to being in charge that she had insulted him a second time in five minutes.

  Handing over the implements she seated herself dutifully to receive a plate of meat, waiting until he and Oriel had their own portions in front of them.

  The meal that followed was rather strained. Nat hardly tasted the precious rations that had been so difficult to acquire, her sharp words tainting every mouthful, making it almost impossible for him to swallow. Why had she turned on him like that? His eyes were intent on his meal but saw instead the retreating back of his mother as he called out her name in vain.

  Nat would have continued to suffer in silence but Bright with her open nature could not allow the meal to proceed any longer without apologizing, laying down her knife and fork to do so. ‘Forgive me for snapping at you, Nat. ’Twas just that ye caught me on the hop.’

  His frozen expression immediately thawed. ‘It were my fault.’

  ‘No, no.’ Hands in lap, she shook her head, one tawny kiss curl blowing in the draught that came from under the door. ‘You were just trying to make it a nice day for us and I’ve been racking my brain to think how to solve the problem.’

  ‘May I ask what problem?’ Oriel stabbed a sprout with her fork and put it into her mouth. There had been no raised voices but only an idiot would be unaware of the atmosphere between her parents.

  When her mother related Nat’s impulsive actions Oriel pondered for a while as she continued eating. ‘We could bring them back here, give them a drink of sherry – I’ll see what I can get tomorrow morning in the village – then we give each of them a little purse of sovereigns to show their employer’s appreciation for all the hard work they’ve done for him over the years.’ This submission ended with a triumphant flourish and it appeared to win favour with her mother, which had been her intention, for if she were going to migrate with her parents then she certainly must make an effort to get on with her father.

  Nat chewed on a mouthful of meat. During the war he had been hoarding gold in the hope that it would appreciate in value. He was none too keen to part with it. ‘It’ll mean getting a lot of purses. How about a nice new five-pound note each?’

  Oriel shrugged. ‘I suppose that would do.’

  ‘Aye, that’s not a bad idea of yours,’ complimented her father, pausing to dab his lips on a napkin. ‘It’ll make a nice sweetener before I have to deliver the bad news that they’ll soon have a new boss.’

  ‘What makes you think it’ll come as bad news to them?’ smirked Oriel. During the time she had worked for her father they had often undergone cryptic exchanges like this, and it had become a kind of game between them, but Bright was not to know this.

  ‘I’m just sick of this rudeness towards your father!’ Once more she deposited her knife and fork on to the plate with a loud clatter, shocking the other occupants of the table.

  ‘I didn’t mean—’ Oriel began.

  ‘I don’t care what ye meant! I haven’t brought you up to be contemptuous of others and you’ll apologize at once.’

  Oriel showed astonishment. In her view she had been much ruder to her father than this but it had until now passed without comment from her mother.

  With the two women intent on each other Nat was made to feel like an interloper, a feeling he detested, but nevertheless he watched closely for now he was presented with a different Oriel to the one he had sparred with on the work front. He had viewed his daughter as independent, headstrong, now he learned that one word of admonishment from her mother could reduce her to a tearful child. Without apology she rose and dashed upstairs to her room.

  ‘I don’t think she meant owt,’ he offered in the awkward silence that followed.

  Bright clicked her tongue. She had abandoned her meal altogether now. ‘I just don’t like to hear her talk to you like that!’

  He made light of the matter. ‘Nay, I’m used to it.’

  ‘Yes, I forgot she’s been working for you. I’m surprised you didn’t sack her.’ The spot between Bright’s eyebrows maintained its V of annoyance as she leaned her elbows on the table, wringing her hands. ‘I would’ve done if I’d been her boss.’

  ‘I’ve never seen her like that before.’ Unable to continue his meal, Nat also laid down his cutlery.

  ‘Oh well, I dare say you’ll get used to that too.’ Bright jumped up and began to side the dishes, feeling very foolish that she had overreacted out of her own self-recrimination. ‘She’s quick to tears. I’ve gone and done it now – we won’t see her for the rest of the afternoon.’

  ‘We’ll have to put her absence to good use then, won’t we?’ He gave a crafty smile.

  ‘Yes, ye can help me wash the dishes,’ she announced with a laugh, her outward appearance lending the impression that she was back to her old self now, though her stomach still churned.

  Outsmarted, he shoved back his chair and rose. ‘Ooh,
Mrs Prince, you’re a hard woman.’

  His comment stopped Bright in her tracks. She put down the plates and covered her mouth with her fingers, her words emerging through them. ‘That was something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.’ The hesitance of her tone conveyed the delicacy of the question.

  ‘You can stop worrying about being called Mrs Smellie. I changed me name officially years ago.’

  ‘I wasn’t worried!’

  ‘Yes you were!’ he laughingly accused. ‘And you’ve every right to be. Nobody should be lumbered with a name like that. It should be mentioned in the Cruelty to Children Act. Away, let’s get these pots done, then. ’

  ‘No, sit down, I was only kidding.’ She resumed her task.

  ‘Bright, I don’t need a slave. I’ve been looking after meself for years.’ He insisted on helping.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be bossy.’ Her words were flung over her shoulder as they moved to the scullery. ‘I’ve just got used to running around after Miss Bytheway for twenty years.’

  ‘And that one up there.’ He cocked his head at the ceiling to indicate his daughter’s bedroom.

  ‘Oh no, Oriel’s always helped me.’

  Nat was about to say that he hadn’t noticed a lot of that going on in his presence, but he had no wish to argue the point and changed the subject as he made ready with a tea towel. ‘Don’t suppose she’ll want to take my name.’

  ‘Ah yes, there’s that to consider too. Well, I don’t see why she wouldn’t want to make her name the same as ours. If she kept Maguire it’d be a bit awkward for her to explain to all these new people she’s bound to meet over there why her name’s different to her parents’ – especially if she meets someone she wants to marry. We’ll ask her when she comes down, shall we?’

  It was growing dark before Oriel eventually crept out from her self-imposed exile, and though she didn’t apologize she made a great effort to invite favour by offering to make tea. Bright knew better than to mention the disagreement – it would only have her daughter fleeing tearfully back upstairs for another four or five hours – but Nat was perplexed at the lack of reference to the incident. It was as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Your father and I were discussing your name,’ began her mother.

  ‘You mean that I was named after a window.’ Oriel was unusually merry for someone who had been in the depths of despair a few hours ago, thought Nat, and looked to Bright for explanation.

  ‘It’s been a standing joke for years,’ she told him, feigning weariness. ‘I spelled Oriel’s name wrongly and I’ve been teased about it ever since.’

  Nat had never heard of an oriel window and so did not grasp the connotation but, not wishing to appear ignorant, pretended that he understood with a sapient nod.

  ‘Anyway,’ Bright went on, addressing her daughter, ‘I didn’t mean that. We thought that as I’ll soon be taking your father’s surname, you might like to change yours too.’

  Immediately the name Smellie sprang to Oriel’s mind – the last name on earth anyone would choose to adopt. But if she raised the question of its legality they would know she had been snooping so instead she replied in breezy manner, ‘Oh it really doesn’t matter to me now.’ Though deep down it did matter, this response was designed to wound her father. ‘I can’t alter my birth certificate so there doesn’t seem much point pretending – but of course I’ll give it some thought.’ The hasty addendum was to prove to her mother that she was not being unreasonable. ‘Now what delicacy can I prepare for your tea?’

  * * *

  That night, their last night of loneliness, each of them lay in their respective beds, immune to slumber. Wide awake and trembling with excitement, Bright rehearsed tomorrow’s events from beginning to end, pictured herself with her beloved groom. Oh, how she ached for him, felt his warm palms running up under her nightgown… but no, those were her own hands that explored that yearning body, offering not satisfaction but a deep and overwhelming frustration. Enveloped thus, Bright was attacked by the neurotic idea that something was going to prevent this wedding, envisioned a tiny accidental flame burgeoning into a raging inferno that trapped her here in this room whilst the burning house crashed down on top of her before she ever had the chance to be Nat’s wife. Heart thudding in her chest, she tried to hang on to reality, breathing the frigid air in rapid little gulps, trying desperately to think of other things whilst her whole being threatened to explode.

  Nat, too, was kept awake by the memory of that last night they had lain together, reacquainted with the great burden of guilt over the way he had forced himself on Bright when she was but a child. He could admit that now. He had forced her. She had not protested but he had taken advantage of the affection of a little girl. The perspective of his thirty-eight years blinded him to the fact that they had both been children. All he saw now was his own abuse and betrayal of a child who had loved him. Handicapped by this image he remained sentient, his mind invaded by maggots of self-loathing. He should be happy, tomorrow was his wedding day – he was happy; just the very thought of Bright caused his body to react instinctively. But would his happiness be for ever tainted by this guilt?

  The third occupant of the house lay awake too, staring into a darkness that reflected the vision she had of her future. For Oriel, tomorrow would mean that she had two parents at last, but perversity had dubbed this the beginning of loneliness for her, for those two parents were totally bound up in each other.

  * * *

  On Monday afternoon, after futile attempts to keep out of each other’s way that came close to turning the whole day into a farce, the union that both had long ago abandoned to their dreams became reality: Bright and Nat were married at last.

  Oriel wept through the entire ceremony, deeply moved by the way her parents offered their vows, yet even more acutely aware of her own exclusion. In three more hours her mother would be gone. She would be completely alone. It was the greatest ordeal she had ever had to face but she did her utmost not to show it and so ruin her mother’s elation. Hence, it was a gay and munificent moonbeam who presided over the ensuing reception, delighting the guests with her attention to their needs.

  The modest nuptials exceeded all hopes. Bright was relieved to find out that the description of Spud’s wife had been just another of Nat’s jokes; she was really quite pleasant, as were all the members of his workforce, and she felt glad that Nat had decided to accept Spud’s offer, thus safeguarding the others’ jobs.

  Their future was the last thing on Nat’s mind. With the nerve-racking ceremony over he was engulfed by relief that manifested itself as nonstop banter, amazing and entertaining his employees, who had never heard him utter more than half a dozen words at one go – and they were even more astonished to receive the monetary gifts from one who was usually so parsimonious. Nat beamed as they toasted his health, amused at how easy it was to please simpletons. If only they knew, he thought, how I can’t wait to get rid of them, but he played the perfect host, wanting this to be a day to remember for his bride, until a respectable time lapse would allow him and Bright to escape to the railway station.

  Towards the end of the afternoon the groom displayed a reluctant smile and said he and his wife would have to depart, and so the guests filed out. As her parents, too, made for the door Oriel followed them to the threshold, wishing them a safe journey. Then, after kissing her mother, much to Nat’s surprise, she leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek and muttered a genuine, ‘Good luck.’

  Deeply touched, he planted a quick peck on his daughter’s cheek, breathing in the clean fresh smell of her, then hurried outside to the waiting cab before his burning eyes gave him away.

  Oriel closed the door and wept. Alone in the house and feeling miserable, she was at a loss as to what to do. Thoughts of her coming migration spurred a series of telephone calls to friends, which resulted in talk of farewell parties.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know if I’ll have time for that,’ she laughed. ‘We’ve so much t
o do – but of course I’ll nip and see you before we go.’ But in reality her heart balked at the thought of saying so many goodbyes and she knew that she would be unable to fulfil her promise.

  A look at the clock told of a long night ahead and so, having changed out of her wedding costume, she plodded to the top of the house and began to sort out the attic in preparation for departure.

  * * *

  The east coast in winter was an ill-chosen spot for a honeymoon, the effect of the wind on one’s ears an assault from a thousand knives. Waves reared and crashed against the wind like gunfire as the newly-weds arrived at their hotel, an Italian-style, wildly ornamental building that dominated St Nicholas Cliff. Yet once inside the foyer of the aptly named Grand the weather was of little consequence to the nervous bride, who was daunted even by the efficient staff who fussed over their luggage, and whispered that she felt everyone was looking at her.

  ‘They are – you look lovely.’ Nat smiled and squeezed her arm to reassure her as they followed the uniformed youth to their suite.

  The Grand had suffered from German bombardment during the war but no one would know it from these luxurious amenities. Even after the porter had left, the couple retained their awkward stance for a while, both apparently awed by the sumptuous décor and the vast perimeters.

  ‘We’ll need to catch a tram to get from one side of the room to t’other.’ Nat went to the window to check that he had acquired a sea view and, contented, remained there for a while looking out at the rough grey waves.

  ‘I hope Oriel’s all right. She’s never been on her own before.’

  ‘There’s good locks on t’doors and we won’t be away long.’

  Bright gave an intuitive smile at his back. ‘You think I mollycoddle her, don’t you?’

  ‘No! Well, I’m selfish, I suppose. I enjoy having you to meself.’

  Unsure of herself, Bright suddenly decided, ‘I’d better unpack.’ She began by removing her hat and looked for a place to deposit it, finally laying it on the quilted satin counterpane.