Consequences

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Yes, we do, Benjamin,’ she objected, ‘because I’d like some reassurance as to where we go from here, you and me. It’s all right for you, you’re a man. But I like to know what I’m doing, and in plenty of time. Remember, I’m dependent on you, and so is Louise. Totally dependent…And it goes against my nature. So please afford me some consideration.’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘I do, and I shall. When the time is ripe. Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know. As things are, I’m still married – remember?’

  ‘It never made any difference before.’

  He stubbed out his cigarette, got dressed without another word, and left, repeating the half promise that he would visit tomorrow.

  * * *

  Some week or so later, on a Tuesday, Algie cycled homewards from his new factory premises in Vauxhall Street, just off Queen’s Cross, in Dudley. He chose to take the road that took him past Holly Hall House. It was the long way round to Kingswinford, but he was curious. There was just a chance he might spot Aurelia. She had been on his mind a great deal lately.

  Not entirely through force of habit he turned to take a glimpse along the drive of Holly Hall House through the grassy front garden overhung with elms, now recovering from its winter sleep. Benjamin’s horse and gig stood near the front door, so he was evidently at home. Algie was poignantly reminded of the signs Aurelia used to set up for him as he rode past in the days of their affair, intended to let him know when Benjamin was away. A lump came to his throat. Such heady days. He rode on, fondly reminiscing, reminding himself how they had planned to elope and set up home miles away where nobody knew them. Leaving his mother alone was the obstacle that prevented it. But once she knew of his affair with Aurelia – a married woman – she roundly condemned them both and, despite Algie’s pleas, swore to have nothing whatsoever to do with the girl – ever.

  Before he knew it, Algie was swerving into the drive of Badger House. He dismounted, leaned his bike against the wall outside the front door, and entered. Marigold had placed his slippers in the hall awaiting him, and he changed into them, while Marigold shuffled into view from the sitting room, preceded by her belly.

  ‘I thought I heard you come in,’ she said with a welcoming smile. ‘D’you fancy a drink?’

  ‘I’d love a glass of beer.’

  ‘I’ll pour you one.’

  He entered the sitting room where Rose was playing with a rag doll. Marigold followed him shortly after bearing a glass of beer.

  ‘I saw Aurelia today,’ she said.

  ‘Oh yes?’ he asked, looking quizzical, because her manner of introducing the conversation suggested something unusual was afoot.

  ‘She says she wants to see you, if you can spare her the time. I said I would ask you.’

  ‘What’s she want to see me about?’

  ‘She wants your advice. You’ll never guess what…that Benjamin is having an affair now with your sister Kate.’

  ‘What?’ he exclaimed, astounded.

  ‘It’s true, Algie. She sent him a letter proving it. I saw it with my own eyes.’

  He took a gulp of beer. ‘So what’s that got to do with me? I can’t give her advice. If it’s advice she wants she needs to see her solicitor.’

  ‘She’s really worried about what it could mean as regards little Benjie. I’ve already told her what I think.’

  ‘Well, I can hardly go to their house. Where does she want to meet me?’

  ‘Top of the Fountain Arcade in Dudley at eight.’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Yes, tonight. So you’d better have your tea and get a move on, else you ain’t gonna be there in time.’

  * * *

  Aurelia was awaiting Algie when his tram halted at the Fountain in Dudley Market Place. Few people were about at that time, save for a handful of courting couples visualising their dreams by window shopping as they strolled arm in arm, and Aurelia looked just like any other young woman waiting expectantly for her beau. She looked ravishingly beautiful in her tight-waisted jacket and narrow skirt, so different from Marigold at the present time with her swollen belly, he thought, and the ungainly movements it forced upon her.

  They greeted each other with a fond smile.

  ‘How’ve you been?’ he asked. ‘I’ve not seen you for ages.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied airily. ‘Keeping your distance. It hasn’t gone unnoticed. But I’m surviving.’

  ‘Where d’you fancy going for a chat?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, well…there’s always Mr Powell’s Eagle Hotel,’ she said saucily. ‘I wonder if he would remember us.’

  He laughed, ‘He might have read about us in the newspapers.’

  ‘But would he remember us?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he would. We were a bit…’ He searched for the right word. ‘Conspicuous. And we’d still be conspicuous. Anyway, I thought you wanted to ask my advice on Benjamin and our Kate.’

  ‘So I do,’ she said. ‘But meeting you here, like we used to, reminds me of those times we used to spend there.’

  ‘Is that café open, d’you think?’ he asked. ‘The Midland Café?’

  ‘I don’t imagine so at this hour.’

  ‘Then let’s cross over to the Dudley Arms. At least I can get a pint of beer there.’

  So they entered the Dudley Arms, and she sat at a vacant table while Algie went to the bar. He returned with his beer and a glass of hock for Aurelia.

  ‘Now then, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?’

  ‘I’m desperately worried about what might happen to Benjie,’ she said. ‘I suppose Marigold mentioned about Benjamin and your Kate.’

  ‘She did. Tell me what you know.’

  ‘Just that she wrote to him saying she couldn’t meet him after all the other Friday night, because her husband was travelling from Norfolk to be with her that weekend. It was obvious she and Benjamin had spent weekends together before.’

  ‘I’m amazed that those two should have got together – yet they were made for each other. I reckon he must have made it his business to go to the Gaiety Theatre, when he was in London for the divorce hearing, and meet her. He knew all about her after all. I can only assume he made a favourable impression.’

  ‘He can be charming when he wants to be, not that I’ve seen much charm from him lately. Anyway, he’s planning to have the house done-up to lure her there permanently, I suspect. He wouldn’t spend money on it unless it was something as radical as that.’

  ‘I see. So you’re worried about what would happen to Maude, and therefore the well-being of little Benjie?’

  ‘I’m not so much worried about Maude, but her situation would affect Benjie.’

  ‘To be honest, my love, I don’t think you’ve got a thing to worry about. Our Kate’s not going to jeopardise her marriage to Sir Lionel Chesterton and all his stupendous wealth, for the sake of a fling with some provincial fender and bedstead manufacturer. She’s too calculating for that. She might enjoy Benjamin bedding her, ’cause I think our Kate’s got an incurable fondness for being bedded. Nor was she ever that fussy who bedded her. I reckon she’s had more men than I’ve had hot dinners, and as long as she can get away with it she’ll carry on doing it. But she’ll tire of Benjamin just as quickly as she’s tired of every other poor devil. If he thinks the relationship is anything more than ships in the night he’s living in cloud cuckoo land.’

  ‘D’you really think so, Algie?’

  ‘I’d stake money on it. He’ll realise at some point exactly what she’s like and serve him right. If the worst comes to the worst, I imagine you’d be able to go back to the courts anyway and plead for custody. You would have a good enough case to prove him irresponsible, as we all know he is.’

  ‘You’ve set my mind at rest, Algie. Thank you.’

  ‘You really ought to see George Round again, our solicitor. He’s the man to give you proper advice.’

  ‘Have you had your bill from him yet?’

  He nodded. ‘Fift
y quid.’

  ‘That’s a lot.’

  He shrugged. ‘It could’ve been more. It’s just unfortunate it’s come at the wrong time.’

  ‘Oh? How d’you mean?’

  ‘I suppose you heard that your erstwhile intended, Clarence Froggatt,’ he said derisively, ‘bought the land my factory was on. I had notice to quit by the end February. It’s cost me a mint of money moving somewhere else, not to mention the loss from not being able to build and sell bikes during the time it took.’

  ‘I wish I could help you, Algie,’ she said. ‘But I have no money of my own to give anymore.’

  ‘I wasn’t asking you for money, Aurelia, nor expecting an offer of any. I know how you’re fixed, and you’ll need every penny you can get your hands on now.’

  ‘You could always try Clarence if you’re really strapped. He’s inherited a fortune.’

  ‘He’s the last person on God’s earth I’d ask. I reckon he’s got it in for me lately.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s how it seems.’

  ‘You’re imagining it, Algie. There’s no malice in Clarence.’

  ‘That’s your opinion. But I see another side of him – he’s a manipulative, calculating bastard as far as I’m concerned. And now he’s got money he thinks he can do as he pleases.’

  ‘So you don’t think I should ask him to help me?’ she asked. ‘If I need money.’

  ‘Don’t you dare go anywhere near Clarence Froggatt,’ he warned earnestly. ‘I mean it. If you need money, come to me. If you need anything at all, come to me. I’ll see you all right.’

  ‘That’s very generous, Algie, but it seems you’re struggling yourself right now, it doesn’t seem fair to have to bother you. Anyway, on the other hand, I thought, maybe I could get a position as a governess. I’ll need to work, and I’m quite used to handling children. I could even teach.’

  ‘There’s one problem with both ideas.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘The fact that you’ll be a divorced woman. Society frowns on divorced women, as you well know. You’ll struggle to find work as a governess. Where would you get a reference? No family would want to be associated with you, for fear of tainting their own reputation, not to mention their children.’

  ‘So if I’m to be regarded as a social pariah, what am I to do?’

  ‘I’ll pay it some thought,’ he declared.

  ‘Maybe I should move away, miles from here, where nobody knows me. Then I could wear weeds and pass myself off as a widow. You could give me a reference – say I used to work for you. Nobody would know any different.’

  ‘Oh? And how are you going to pay for moving away and starting a new life?’

  ‘Maybe I could get a job in a factory. One of the glassworks, or in a shop. Anything to build up a little nest egg to help me move on.’

  * * *

  Chapter 25

  The tram rattled past Badger House towards the Kingswinford terminus as Algie returned home. He could see lights from the windows, which told him Marigold had not gone to bed yet. She would be waiting for him, curious as to how his meeting with Aurelia had panned out. He rose from his seat, and when the tram ceased its journey at Kingswinford Cross he was first to jump off.

  As soon as he opened the front door he saw his mother, evidently in a flap. She was just coming from the kitchen, carrying an armful of towels and a lighted oil lamp.

  ‘Marigold’s started,’ she proclaimed.

  ‘You mean she’s in labour?’ he asked incredulous, suddenly anxious.

  ‘Yes, she’s in labour. I’ve put some water on to boil. Keep your eye on it for me, our Algie.’

  ‘D’you want me to do anything? D’you want me to fetch anybody?’

  ‘Who is there to fetch?’ Clara answered impatiently. ‘We don’t know any midwives around here.’

  ‘What about the doctor? I could fetch Dr Froggatt.’

  ‘This is women’s business, Algie. Don’t fret, I know what to do. I daresay I can cope without the doctor if it’s straightforward enough. If not, then we’ll send for him. Just keep your eye on that water.’

  ‘I want to see Marigold first,’ he said.

  ‘Go on up, then. Take these towels with you and I’ll watch the water.’

  He scaled the stairs two at a time in the darkness, and bounded into their bedroom. Marigold was lying back, resting against a mound of pillows, clinging to the bedrail behind her as if her life depended on it. By the light of the oil lamp on the bedside table her otherwise lovely face looked drawn; she seemed apprehensive.

  He put the towels down, sat at the foot of the bed and turned towards her. ‘How long since you started?’ he asked.

  ‘Just before you went out.’

  ‘Jesus, Marigold!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you say? I wouldn’t have gone.’

  ‘I didn’t want to be the reason you shouldn’t go. Aurelia would’ve been waiting for you. Besides…’ She winced and screwed her eyes up as another wave of pain overcame her.

  ‘Besides, what?’ he prompted when he could see the spasm had passed.

  ‘I thought it would be ages afore I was in the thick of this.’

  ‘But you should have said,’ he scolded mildly.

  ‘P’raps I should’ve,’ she conceded. ‘Any road, how was she?’

  He shrugged. ‘All right. I think I convinced her that it ain’t in our Kate to settle for less than what she’s already got. So she should have no worries about her or little Benjie.’

  ‘Well, it took you long enough. I looked at the clock just before half past nine and thought, he won’t be long now.’

  ‘Well, I’m not that late. But if I’d known you’d started…’

  ‘Well, you didn’t, so don’t blame yourself. Anyway, where did you go?’

  ‘The Dudley Arms, in the town.’

  ‘Who was looking after the children? Did she say?’

  ‘The nanny, I expect. She didn’t say.’

  ‘I s’pose Benjamin was out.’

  ‘I suppose he was. With that Maude, I imagine.’

  ‘Dirty devil.’

  There fell a silence between them in anticipation of Marigold’s next spasm of contractions.

  ‘P’raps you’d better go down now, Algie,’ she suggested feebly. ‘I don’t really want you to see me like this. It won’t be a pretty sight. It’ll put you off altogether.’

  He got up, privately glad she’d released him. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Mother’ll be up in a sec.’ He made for the door.

  ‘Algie…’

  He turned to answer her. ‘What, sweetheart?’

  ‘Do you love me?’

  He stepped forward again towards the bed, his heart full of tenderness. He sat beside her, threw his arms about her, hugged her and kissed her hair.

  ‘You know I love you,’ he said sincerely, and felt tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly he was mindful that she must be plagued with feelings of insecurity at the very time she needed security, because of his meeting Aurelia. It struck him that she might still feel secondary to her half-sister in his affections. A tear rolled down his cheek.

  ‘More than Aurelia?’

  ‘Oh, Marigold,’ he sighed. ‘Course I love you more than Aurelia, you nit. I don’t love Aurelia. Not anymore.’

  ‘But you loved her once.’

  ‘I did. But not anymore. It’s in the past. I’m still fond of her, course I am, but not like that.’

  ‘And she had your baby.’

  ‘You don’t need to remind me, my flower. And I feel a responsibility towards her because of the child. You know I do.’

  ‘It takes two, Algie. It takes two to make a bargain, and two to make a baby.’

  ‘Course it does.’

  ‘Still, I wouldn’t blame you if you still fancy her, all nice and slim with her lovely figure and her lovely face.’

  ‘What makes you think I don’t fancy you?’

  ‘With my big belly and
big bum?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t kid me, Algie.’

  ‘Your big belly and your not-so-big bum will be back to normal again by the end of next week. Then we’ll see whether I fancy you or not. So don’t torture yourself over Aurelia.’ He smiled, eyes glistening, and when she smiled back he was content that she was reassured. ‘I’ll see you later, eh? Send for me if you want me, I’ll be downstairs…biting my nails, I expect.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a cup o’ tea, Algie.’

  ‘All right, I’ll brew up.’

  * * *

  Having made a pot of tea and taken two mugs upstairs, Algie grabbed a tot of whisky for himself and took it to the sitting room where he sat on the sofa. On one of the armchairs, in front of the dying coal fire, his mother had left a mound of knitting, with a ball of wool impaled on a pair of knitting needles. Rose’s rag doll lay lame and lifeless on another chair, left in the panic that must have ensued when Marigold declared she was in labour. He stooped down to what remained of the fire, took the poker from the hearth set and stirred the embers. Ashes tumbled into the tray beneath while a few sparks flew half-heartedly up the chimney. Using the tongs, he fed a few lumps of coal onto the glowing cinders and sat down again. He took a slug or two of whisky while the fire coaxed itself into life, staring into the coals. Marigold’s question as to whether he still loved her was swimming through his head. How could he not love her? She was the most adorable girl, and he counted himself lucky to have her.

  Upstairs he could hear his mother’s footfalls on the floorboards above, the occasional words that passed between her and Marigold. A few times he heard Marigold whining, and felt completely useless. He hoped his mother could cope.

  Eventually he fell asleep sitting up on the sofa, but a piercing cry of anguish from Marigold woke him. He was still holding his tot of whisky, and was amazed that he had not spilled it. He took another slug and it tasted sweet and hot in his dry mouth. He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten minutes to six.

  Morning.

  Rousing himself, he stood up, went to the window and opened the curtain a little to peer out. Light was straining through the darkness.

  He stood listening at the bottom of the stairs, lit now by the breaking dawn filtering through the fanlight over the front door. Another anguished shriek from Marigold. He went to the kitchen. The fire in the range needed making up, so he gave it a stir and raked out the ashes. He watched the flames ignite the coals, tentatively at first. It was time to find out what was happening.