Poet's Cottage

by Josephine Pennicott

  Passing a choir I stopped to listen to the strains of ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’; I was soon forced to move on by a persistent tramp. I’d already given away the few coins in my purse but he harangued me regardless. Harsh times and desperation had brought out the worst in this poor man.

  As I passed the docks I waved to the few fishermen who sat mending nets and gossiping. A younger one whistled, which brought a flush to my cheeks. I pretended not to hear as I hurried on. I hadn’t seen Victor since the murder night. I had heard he was working in Burnie now and I never failed to feel hurt and angry over how I had been treated by him. Every time I opened my closet and saw the dress Mother and I had made, the pain returned. There was no romance in my life although I often dreamed about a lover who would be everything I hungered for: friend, confidant, kindred spirit. Very few men interested me in Pencubitt. I certainly had no idea of what Pearl found so attractive about the fisherman Teddy – especially when, as far as I was concerned, she had the perfect man in Maxwell. I wondered sometimes if I would ever be able to find a lover for myself in such a small town. Most of the girls I had gone to school with were married with children. I dreaded being an old maid if I was still alone when I turned twenty. Besides, how could I leave Mother when she was in such poor health? I felt imprisoned.

  When I arrived at Poet’s Cottage Pearl opened the door to me dressed in an inappropriate pale pink crepe-de-Chine negligee. ‘Hello, Birdie,’ she drawled. ‘Come on in and celebrate. I’ve just sent my book off to the publishers. It’s the best one yet.’

  ‘You always say that!’ called Maxwell from the front room as Pearl ushered me through.

  The children were on the floor playing cards with Angel and Maxwell. Teddy sat on a sofa, his eyes following Pearl like those of a hungry dog. Violet perched on a chair with her usual bored expression, which brightened when I entered. She indicated that I should sit beside her, while Pearl sat next to Teddy.

  ‘Have a drink, Birdie,’ Pearl offered. ‘You look like you’ve swallowed a lemon. You’re far too young for that expression, darling.’

  ‘Take no notice of her, Birdie,’ Maxwell said. ‘You look very pretty tonight.’ Pearl threw a cushion at him and Thomasina shouted at her father to play the game properly.

  I took myself through to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Now that I’d got to Poet’s Cottage, I realised I didn’t have the heart to enjoy the party and I wanted to leave. All I could think of today was how Pearl had ruined my chances for a relationship with Victor. She’d betrayed my friendship; I was just a figure of fun for her to mock and scorn. I sipped the water slowly, watching myself reflected in the window, and I wished that Pearl was dead. Yes, looking back it seems a terrible thing to have thought. I meant it seriously only in that moment, as a small child might wish for such a thing in a sulk. She seemed to have ruined so many lives and shattered dreams. I blamed her for Victor leaving town so abruptly, as unfair as that may have been, and she had made Maxwell a laughing stock. And she was a terrible mother, neglecting her daughters for her mediocre writing; I had witnessed many instances of her outright cruelty to Thomasina. She was also a slatternly housekeeper and a horrible, insincere friend. My inner list of complaints continued to grow until I felt I would choke with the venom coiling within me. As I studied my reflection I indulged in dark imaginings, picturing Pearl walking into the sea to drown or lying mangled under the train. With Pearl gone we would all be happier. And Maxwell would be free to form a relationship with a decent, caring woman. A woman like myself, who loved him for who he was, and who wouldn’t continually berate him for not having more ambition. He could play golf and cricket, and would be free to treat the girls with kindness. There would be innocent family laughter at Poet’s Cottage if Pearl was dead.

  When Pearl was found so savagely killed only a few feet from where I had imagined her grisly end, I found it difficult to forgive myself. How do we know the power of our thoughts? By imagining her death did I create some dark energy in that house? And did that energy then attach itself to some weak-minded, evil person who became filled with the desire to kill Pearl? As foolish and dramatic as I knew these ponderings to be, I tortured myself by entertaining them.

  In any case, my macabre fantasies only lasted as long as it took to drink the water. On my return to the group there was no hint on my face of the dark direction my thoughts had taken. I continued to feel melancholy and lonely that night as I made idle chat, observing the four lovers who surrounded me – Pearl, Teddy, Angel and Maxwell – and sharing their sordid secrets. If Violet sensed my feelings, it didn’t show in her face or her endless prattle.

  It was Christmas Eve, a time for peace on earth, but I felt little goodwill towards my companions. As I sat there disgruntled, I promised myself that with the New Year I would cease my visits to Poet’s Cottage and begin to focus on my own ambitions. I had long harboured a desire to write more tales from our little town, or even branch into fiction with my own children’s books. And there was the book about Blackness House I was working on. Little did I guess that after this night fate would ensure I would not see my fellow guests together in this room ever again. There was no hint it was the final meeting.

  Teddy, his face flushed red with alcohol, revealed his passion every time he looked at Pearl. There was no inking that in just a few months he would be lying on the shore with his eyes stolen by the sea and tiny crabs crawling from his nose.

  Even Marguerite, normally such a pleasant child, appeared to have absorbed some of the atmosphere and was grumbling and surly. When Angel told her to go upstairs to bed so that Father Christmas could visit, she yelled, ‘I don’t have to do what you say! You’re not my mother. And Mummy says you won’t be staying here after Christmas anyway!’

  ‘Which we are happy about,’ added the dreadful Thomasina, always ready to fight grown-ups, even her adored Angel. ‘Because you are stinky of poo!’ The girls fell about laughing while Angel looked as if she was about to burst into tears. I almost felt sorry for her when I saw the way she trembled. Obviously it hadn’t occurred to the fool that her liaison with Maxwell might not go down well with his wife. It was clear that the news of her termination from her position was a shock to her. Violet laughed along with the girls.

  Maxwell half dragged his daughters upstairs to bed, after insisting the pair apologise to Angel. Pearl sat looking directly at Angel with a strange smile on her face. I realised then that Pearl hated the girl, although I couldn’t quite understand why. Pearl had never seemed very interested in Maxwell, caught up as she was with Teddy, and I thought that she would have welcomed Maxwell being distracted, so that she could continue to enjoy her affair. Even then I hadn’t fully understood Pearl’s narcissistic personality: Empress Pearl would allow no challengers in her court.

  Still staring at Angel, Pearl whispered and giggled into Teddy’s ear. Violet stood up and began to waltz by herself, her full lavender-coloured skirt swishing around her. I had to call out to her as she swayed dangerously close to a lit candle. She laughed, throwing her head back, closing her eyes as she stepped. She was young and believed she would live forever to wear skirts that swished. She continued her solitary dance, chuckling to herself and telling us loudly that she was dancing with Clark Gable.

  Around me the room was in its usual chaotic state, the children’s playing cards scattered on the floor along with their toys. There were books piled on every surface, as well as torn copies of children’s magazines, Peg’s Paper and Schoolgirl’s Own amongst them. A mounted deer head next to a large statue of Jesus on the cross. Against the wall sat a series of framed black and white photographs that I could only describe as lewd – naked showgirls from Paris, displayed in full view of Thomasina and Marguerite. Mother would have had to be carried out of the room if she saw them! Once, the disarray of the house had attracted me; I had seen it as freeing and preferable to all the neat and tidy boring houses I had grown up with. Now I longed for the simple, uncomplicated homes of the Pencubitt locals. T
here was too much I didn’t understand or like about the tensions flying like arrows at Poet’s Cottage.

  Suddenly a voice cut through the music. ‘I need to talk to you.’ We all stared at Angel, shocked that she had uttered so many words unasked.

  Pearl ignored her. She whispered again into Teddy’s ear and he laughed. I watched as his hand moved higher up her thigh.

  Violet stared at Angel as she pirouetted.

  ‘Did you hear me? I said I need to talk to you,’ the wretched girl persisted. I felt my face flame in embarrassment for her. I couldn’t believe she would have the nerve to address Pearl so directly in front of her guests. We all watched, enthralled. I thought of Maxwell being intimate with such a coarse creature and I couldn’t wait to see Pearl cut her down to size.

  Finally Pearl looked up; her beautiful face was benign as she gazed upon her employee. ‘Give me a cigarette, Teddy. That’s a love. Did you say something, Angel?’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Angel said again, clenching her fists. I noticed how large her hands were, and thought about how those hands had cared for numerous small children and how capable she was. Those same hands had also caressed Maxwell in places I never would. I had morals, unlike this lowly filthy girl who stood defiantly in front of us with her bullish red face and hands.

  Pearl lit her cigarette and puffed the smoke to the ceiling. ‘There’s nothing to say, doll,’ she said. ‘My husband has tired of bedding you and wishes to terminate your contract. We want you out by Boxing Day.’

  ‘He loves me.’ The girl said it quietly but the words seemed to boom around the room. Violet stopped waltzing and drew a sharp breath before she giggled. I felt my stomach contract.

  Maxwell had entered through the door as she spoke and stood there stunned. Angel turned to face him, her eyes wet with tears, a desperate plea on her simple face. ‘You said you did!’ she cried. ‘Tell them, Maxwell! Tell your bitch, your fancy wife what you said!’

  The world seemed to tilt on itself as I waited for his reply. Was it possible? Could he really love this dumb, illiterate girl with her common voice and accent? But Maxwell said nothing. He simply put his hand to his brow and a quiver seemed to go through him.

  Pearl put back her head and laughed harshly. In that moment she reminded me oddly of her own creation, Kenny Kookaburra. After a short pause, Violet joined in, followed by Teddy. I admit I also began to laugh. It felt good and right to mock the foolish girl in front of us. She had dared to step above her station, using her position as maid to seduce Maxwell. She had to be taught a lesson. And so I laughed, even though some of my laughter was pretence.

  Pearl laughed until the tears ran down her face. ‘I think that’s your answer, Angel,’ she said at last. ‘He’s no longer interested.’ She then said something so obscene that we all gasped, a vile statement relating to Angel’s genitals. I had never heard a woman speak in such a manner. ‘It doesn’t compensate for your lack of intellect,’ Pearl continued, clearly delighted by our reaction. ‘Men are so fickle, aren’t they, diddums? Go upstairs, pack your bags and get back to your mother. I intend to tell her we had to turf you out for making advances to my husband.’

  ‘Maxwell, tell them!’ the girl cried. ‘Please tell them what you promised. Don’t throw me out. Have some pity on me. I’m carrying your child!’

  I gasped at her announcement. Violet’s hands went to her mouth, her face alight at witnessing such a tawdry scene. Maxwell groaned and went to sit near Pearl with his head down. I watched him in confusion. Pearl laughed even harder at this; putting her arms around Maxwell, she cradled him.

  ‘You really are a piece of work,’ she spat at Angel. ‘To come out with that sensational rubbish. As if anybody is going to believe you. Look at me! Would any man married to me be interested in somebody like you?’ Obediently, Violet, Teddy and I stared between the two women – Pearl looked like a movie star on a chocolate box; Angel was a blonde pudding of a girl.

  Angel must have sensed the cruel comparison and her shoulders began to shake. ‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to stay where I’m not wanted. My mum will take me back. She knows what you’re like. The whole town is talking about you, saying you’re a dirty whore. Sleeping with all the fishermen behind Maxwell’s back. You think you’re so high and mighty with your stupid books. What sort of children’s writer are you? You don’t even look after your own daughters.’ She stormed out of the room. Once she’d left, we all avoided looking at Pearl.

  I was trying to think of a way to extract myself from the house when Pearl spoke. ‘The town has more imagination than I have. Where on earth would I find the time or energy to sleep with all their men? That stupid girl, she’s as sly as they come. Since she’s been here I’ve noticed perfume missing and loose change not accounted for. Violet, you warned me about her thieving ways. She dares call me a whore when she seduced my husband under my own roof?’ She turned to Maxwell. ‘And you, sitting there quivering away like a jelly. You didn’t defend me at all, you gutless, spineless Spider! Look at the mess you’ve got us into!’

  I put down my drink, hastily making my excuses to leave. I had never seen Pearl so angry, and I was embarrassed for Maxwell. Why didn’t he stand up to her? For months she had been flaunting that fisherman in front of him! Although I had joined in the humiliation of Angel, I was uncomfortably aware it could easily have been me in her place. May he amongst you that is without sin cast the first stone. I was not without sin – I knew that. I had my own dirty secret and while I may have smugly believed myself to be morally superior to the others, the expression in Angel’s eyes had revealed the truth to me: I was no better than them. I wanted to be out of Poet’s Cottage; it seemed to be smothering me with its dank veil of sorrow and fury. I wanted to breathe the pure night air and watch the brilliant stars overhead. I felt that if I lingered in this house of sorrows, I’d be as lost as the people who surrounded me.

  But Pearl wouldn’t listen to my stammered goodnight and dragged me into the kitchen. She leant against the kitchen table, smiling. There were bruises on her thin arms and her skin looked sallow; I could smell alcohol on her breath.

  ‘The girls don’t dare go down to my cellar now I’ve told them a Tasmanian devil lives there,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t believe what is really down there!’ She wagged a finger in front of my face. ‘I’d tell you but you have that boring lemon-sucking look. No, I’ll not say until you lose that pained old-maid expression!’ Suddenly she reached out for me and hugged me briefly. My nose was pressed against her negligee; I could smell the familiar scent of perfume. Her bones felt so fragile.

  ‘Do you ever get so weary of living that you just want it to end?’ she whispered. ‘Or do you have enough hope to hold on to that you don’t know . . .’ Pearl continued to talk, becoming increasingly incoherent, babbling about poetry and the ocean and her mother. Going on about the events in Europe and how she couldn’t bear it, how she couldn’t sleep at night for thinking of how the Jewish people were being treated in Germany. ‘The world’s going insane!’ she whimpered at one point. ‘What’s happening is evil and nobody here seems to care! We’re witnessing an entire race becoming refugees – the insanity is infecting us all! But do the soporific people in Pencubitt care a jot, Tricky? Thingamybob McDonald, the High Commissioner of the League of Nations, has resigned from his post in protest. But does anybody here at the end of the earth care about what the Reich is doing? They’re more interested in the price of flour or the bowel movements of their next-door neighbours.’

  At this point, Pearl became so worked up that she slapped herself in an attempt to calm down. Not for the first time I feared for her sanity and debated whether I should call Maxwell. Seeing the question in my eyes, she held on to the edge of the table and took several deep breaths before continuing in a more measured tone. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Tricky! I’m as sane as you. I’m just so afraid of the night that is coming! We’re going to be swallowed, Tricky. Swallowed alive! People here believ
e peace will last forever but the mouth of hell is opening. An entire race – it’s wicked beyond belief. The whales must have been a sign, Tricky. All the fishermen are saying it. Hell wants to swallow us all. To pay me back for my own wickedness!’

  None of it made any sense. Finally she must have realised I couldn’t follow and she paused for breath.

  ‘Spider and I loved each other so much once, but it’s all gone,’ she murmured at last. ‘Georgie put it in his pie and baked it.’

  I repeated that I had to leave. She nodded a few times. ‘Of course you do,’ she said. She crossed to the sideboard, swaying as she walked, and returned holding a small, beautifully wrapped box.

  ‘It’s for you,’ she told me. ‘You must open it tomorrow, not tonight. It’s to thank you for being my friend. For sticking with me. For believing in me when nobody else did. I love you, Birdie.’ She laughed through her tears. ‘You still look as if you’ve swallowed a grapefruit. You’ll never change, will you? Just say the word, Birdie. Say the word and he will be yours. Don’t leave me, Birdie. I had such a terrible dream that I was killed in this house. Damn that fortune teller, spreading her morbid imaginings everywhere she goes.’

  She grabbed me and pointed towards the cellar door. ‘Down there,’ she whispered, her voice shaking now. ‘Stabbed down there. My blood was everywhere. I smelled my own blood and the Bindi-eye Men were lapping it up. I’ll not make old bones, I’ve always sensed that, but I want to live so badly! I need to leave with Teddy and then I’ll be safe! Please don’t abandon me here, Birdie! You’re my only true friend. I can’t trust anybody else. I’m afraid.’ She sat on the kitchen chair, her eyes fixed on the cellar door as tears ran down her face.

  I did leave her. I couldn’t bear it a moment longer. I wanted to feel the night breeze and walk down peaceful streets, passing homes where people were slumbering in anticipation of Christmas Day. As I left the room, Pearl called out to me once more. I didn’t look back.