by Jess Foley
All her instincts urged her to run. Every cell in her body cried out for her to pack up her few possessions and get away from the house, but she knew she could not. For the time being she had no option other than to stay. Where could she go? She had no money for lodgings and she had no other prospect of employment. She certainly could not go home to Compton Wells, for if she did, what excuse could she make? She could not tell them the reason, she could never speak of it, never admit the shame of the happening. She was trapped. She could not with comfort stay, but neither could she go.
Mrs Haskin arrived back later that afternoon, remarking to Lily that her mother was much improved, and able to care for herself again. ‘Though I shall go back to check on her tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Just to see that she’s all right, and take her one or two things.’ She expressed satisfaction that the washing had been done, and asked Lily how things had gone generally in her absence. Lily replied that she had kept busy.
Mrs Haskin regarded her judiciously. ‘Are you all right? You look a bit down in the mouth.’
Lily avoided the woman’s glance. ‘I’m all right,’ she said.
‘Well, let’s hope so. We don’t want you sickening for something. It’s enough to do with looking after Mother.’
The time dragged by, and Lily lived the days in a fog. On the Tuesday, she thought of Joel leaving England for France, and all the while she continued with her work, shrouded in a haze of misery and shame, the nightmare of the violation never more than a breath away from her consciousness. Each day she dreaded the time when Mr Haskin would return from the factory and she would have to join him and his wife at the dinner table. At such times she was thankful that conversation was not generally expected of her, and she could sit and eat in near silence without causing comment. When she was called upon to speak, it was almost invariably in response to Mrs Haskin. As for Mr Haskin, he addressed to her only the occasional anodyne remark, and then merely to keep up appearances. At other times the odd jocular comment he threw her way was stilted and awkward, and never did his eyes meet hers.
When Sunday came, Lily went as usual to Henhurst to prepare the midday meal for Mrs Shalcross. She found the old lady much recovered from her accident, and knew a certain relief in spending some time with her. There was no pressure or stress in the old lady’s company and, when the meal was finished and cleared away Lily sat with her over cups of tea, and listened to her complaints and her gossip. Today Lily was in no hurry to leave. Joel would not be waiting for her at the park, and in the absence of time spent with him there was nothing she cared to do. She was only sure that she did not want to return to Hollygrove and find herself in the company of Mr Haskin.
When the time came for her to go, she bade the old lady farewell and left the house. As usual her route took her by the park, and she wandered aimlessly through the entrance. The sky was a little overcast today, and there was a September coolness in the air. The band was playing, but to a much reduced audience, and she felt no desire to linger and listen. Instead, she walked on to the pond, and there sat on the bench that she and Joel had shared. She thought of him as she sat facing out over the water. It was only a week since they had been together. Just one week. That day, that last Sunday with him, had been the happiest day she could recall. How swiftly everything had changed.
How long she sat there she did not know, though from the nearby church she was dimly aware of the clock striking the hours away. Before her, at the rim of the pond, two small boys sailed their wooden boats. The time passed, and eventually they packed up their little vessels and left the scene. The bandsmen had long since ceased to play. When a few drops of rain fell, Lily rose and began to retrace her steps. There were relatively few people about now. The rain began to fall more heavily as she neared the bandstand – all deserted now by the musicians – and she stepped up onto it and sat down on one of the seats. Then, while the rain drummed a tattoo on the wooden roof, she sat looking out over the sward.
When the rain stopped, she set off back to Hollygrove; she could think of nothing else to do, and had nowhere else to go.
Mrs Haskin was in the kitchen when Lily entered the house. She was sitting by the window mending some stockings, her sewing basket open beside her. Lily was relieved to find that Mr Haskin was nowhere in sight.
‘Well, there you are,’ Mrs Haskin said. ‘How was Mother? Did you find her well?’
Lily replied that she had, spoke a little about her time with the old lady, and then went upstairs to take off her jacket and bonnet, and put on her apron. Back downstairs, she took her own sewing basket from the cupboard and took from Mrs Haskin two or three of the stockings that needed mending. For a few minutes the two women worked in silence, then Mrs Haskin said, one eyebrow raised slightly:
‘I wasn’t expecting you back just yet.’
‘The rain came on,’ Lily said. ‘It wasn’t a day for walking around much.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Mrs Haskin paused, then added, her eyes on her darning, ‘And you had no one to meet today?’
The question made Lily’s heart sink. So Mr Haskin had told his wife of seeing Lily with Joel. But it was inevitable, she thought.
When Lily did not answer the question, Mrs Haskin said, ‘Yes, it seems you’ve been keeping a few secrets, Lily Clair. All the time we thought that after getting Mother’s dinner you were going for a nice solitary walk, or getting the train into Corster, but it seems we were wrong. You had other things to do. And, so I’m told, you were quite late getting back last Sunday night. A case of when the cat’s away the mice’ll play, I s’pose.’
Lily said nothing, but kept her head bent to her needlework.
Mrs Haskin said, ‘Has this been going on for a long time? You and this young man?’
When Lily did not answer, Mrs Haskin said, ‘My dear, we’re responsible for you while you’re in this house. We wouldn’t want your father to think we’ve been derelict in our duties.’
‘Two months,’ Lily said, without looking up. ‘I’ve known him about two months.’
‘Two months, eh? What sort of work does he do?’
‘He – he’s a student.’
‘A student.’
‘He’s studying law – at university – at Cambridge.’
‘University. Cambridge. Oh, my dear!’ Mrs Haskin pressed a hand to her big bosom. ‘This sounds too grand for me. A little too grand for the likes of you too, I have to say. Who is he, when he’s at home, this young man?’
Lily wanted to say nothing, but she said after a moment, ‘His name is Joel.’
‘Joel, eh? And I daresay he’s got another name, too. Did you see him today?’
‘No.’
‘Too busy, was he?’
‘No. No, he had to go away.’
Mrs Haskin nodded sagely. ‘I see.’
‘He’s gone to France.’
‘France?’ Mrs Haskin looked incredulous.
‘His father – he’s got a business there.’
Mrs Haskin gave a wondering little shake of her head. ‘It’s sounding grander and grander to me. D’you mean it – he’s gone off to France?’
‘Yes. He went last Tuesday.’
‘Ah, so that’s why you’ve been moping around with a face like a wet week.’ Now she looked directly at Lily, and when she spoke again her tone was a little softer, a little kinder. ‘My dear girl, by what you tell me, this young man is not the one for you. Face it, Lily – you’re a general maid. I don’t want to sound cruel, but pretty little servant girls are ten a penny. Specially for a man of quality. Take it from me, my girl, there’s only one thing young men want, and I don’t doubt for a minute that your young man is any different from the rest of ’em.’
‘Oh, he is,’ Lily breathed. ‘He’s kind, and he’s good.’
Mrs Haskin gave a nod. ‘Well, of course you think that, but you’re too young to have any experience of life. You’ll learn, though. A young man like that will have a bright future ahead of him, and I daresay his folks h
ave higher hopes for him than the kind of understanding he’s got with you. And don’t take that the wrong way, my dear. You’re a well-brought up young woman, but you’ve got to face the facts: his family sounds a mite grander than yours. But you’ll meet somebody else, my dear, and he’ll be somebody of your own kind, and believe me, you’ll be much better off.’ She paused, then added, ‘I hope you’ve been sensible with this young man.’
‘Sensible?’
‘You know very well what I mean. I hope you have been – sensible. Because I don’t want you bringing trouble and disgrace back here.’
On Friday there came a letter from Joel. Mrs Haskin knew nothing of it. Lily was out in the yard when the old postman came up around the side of the house, and seeing her he went to her with the letter held out. Lily knew at once who it was from, and taking it up to her room, she opened it and read Joel’s words:
27 Rue de Soie, Paris
29th August 1866
Dearest Lily,
I got here earlier today. My journey was without mishap, but nevertheless I’m quite exhausted, and very relieved to rest from all the travelling. Since my arrival I’ve hardly had a minute to myself, and I’m writing to you at the first opportunity. Tomorrow will find me at work at the store, as I shall be until my return later in the month.
How are you, my dearest? Have you given me a thought since our parting? I’ve thought of you so many times. You are always on my mind, and I can’t wait until I see you again. I hope it won’t be long. In the meantime you’ll always have the love of
Your
Joel
She put the letter aside. She would answer it at a later date.
The letter remained unanswered, and the days passed. On the twelfth of September Lily expected her monthly period to make its regular appearance, but it did not, and when three days had passed with no sign, she knew that it would not come. At the same time she began to be aware of certain changes taking place in her body, most remarkably a tenderness in her breasts. Then, some days later, she began to be sick.
The sickness struck at her in the morning, soon after she had risen, and she knelt over her chamber pot retching as if she would bring up her very heart. When it continued so every day, she had no doubt whatsoever of the reality of her condition.
She knew, also, that she would not for long be able to hide the truth from Mrs Haskin, and she dreaded the confrontation that she was sure must come.
It came on Friday morning, soon after Mr Haskin had left for the factory. Lily had just cleared away the breakfast things when Mrs Haskin came to her in the scullery.
‘I notice you didn’t eat much of anything for breakfast,’ Mrs Haskin said.
Lily shook her head, avoiding the woman’s gaze. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘I wasn’t that hungry.’
‘So it would seem. And it would also seem that you haven’t been hungry for the past month. And the way I’ve heard you retching in the mornings, it’s a wonder you’ve got as much as a stomach in you.’
Lily kept her eyes on the plate she was washing. ‘I think I must be a little out of sorts,’ she murmured.
Mrs Haskin’s eyes never left Lily’s face. ‘Oh, out of sorts, is it.’ She paused. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?’
When Lily did not answer, Mrs Haskin gave a nod and said, ‘Well, if you ask me, your silence says it all.’ She fell quiet for a second, watching Lily’s averted face, then added, ‘Your monthly – as far as I’ve learnt while you’ve been here it’s about the middle of the month. And regular too, if I’ve observed correctly.’
Lily remained silent.
‘Yes,’ Mrs Haskin said, ‘and I’ll bet I’m right in thinking you haven’t had it this time, is that so?’
Lily gritted her teeth, and briefly pressed shut her eyes.
‘I’m not surprised you can’t answer,’ Mrs Haskin said. She paused. ‘Have you written to the young man?’
Lily turned to her now. ‘What?’
‘Your young man. Your Joel, as you call him. Does he know about the pickle you’re in? Because he ought to be told. Men get away with too much. He’s got you into the state you’re in and it’s only right that he does something about it.’ She gave a withering shake of her head. ‘You young people, you’re so foolish, so stupid. You never think of the consequences of what you do. Have you written to him?’
A sob burst from Lily’s mouth, and she put her hands up and covered her face.
‘Yes, you might well cry, my girl,’ Mrs Haskin said. There was no trace of sympathy in her tone. ‘You’ve got yourself in a right old mess and you’d best think of what you’re gunna do about it.’
‘I don’t know,’ Lily said, the words breaking between her sobs. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, you’d better think of something, because you can’t go on as you are. You realise that, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ The tears were streaming down Lily’s cheeks.
‘Yes, indeed. And I’ll put your mind at rest over something else – and that is that you surely don’t think you’re going to stay here, do you? You’ll have to leave here, young lady, there’s no question about that. What you do about your Mr Joel is up to you, but you can’t stay here. Your father and Mr Haskin have been lifelong friends, but I’m afraid that doesn’t count for anything in a situation like this. There’s no way I’m having you here in your condition. You must try to get that young man to do the right thing by you. Who knows, he might be willing. Though I doubt it. If he’s a man with a future, then a poor marriage and a child would really put a spanner in the works. Still – he must at least be informed of the situation, it’s only right.’ She continued to fix Lily with her unsympathetic gaze. ‘Does anyone else know?’
Lily shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Well, your folks will have to, and before too much longer. Though I shall be writing to your mother myself, you can depend on that. She’s got to know, and soon.’ She slapped down a tea cloth on the table. ‘You’ve got till the end of the month, and then you’ll have to go. I’m sorry it’s got to be like that, but there’s no choice.’ Her voice rose a little, indignant. ‘And I want you to know that it’s a great inconvenience for me, too. It means I’ve got to find a new girl and break her in. Not something I look forward to doing.’
The following Wednesday Mrs Haskin, tight-lipped, asked Lily whether she had yet written to her parents. Lily replied that she had not, but that she intended to do so.
‘Well, I might as well tell you that I have,’ Mrs Haskin said. ‘I wrote on Monday. I told them you’ve gone and got yourself into a state and I told them also that I can only keep you a while longer, and that they must expect you home at the end of the month.’ She gave a little snort, her fury growing. ‘I can’t imagine what they’re going to say to you when you get back, but you’ve only yourself to blame. You were stupid enough to get yourself into this pickle in the first place so you deserve all you get. Bringing shame and disgrace like this onto your parents – how could you? Where did you get such behaviour from? Certainly not from your stepmother.’ Her lip curled. ‘Perhaps you take after your own mother, is that it?’
‘Don’t you say that,’ Lily burst out, the anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. ‘Don’t you speak that way about my mother.’
Mrs Haskin’s mouth fell open at the passionate outburst. Then she said, grinding the words out, ‘You watch yourself when you talk to me, young woman. I won’t be spoken to like that by some chit of a girl who gives herself up to the first man who gives her a wink. And he’s no better than he should be either, that so-called Joel of yours. He deserves all he gets.’
‘It wasn’t him,’ Lily said, the tears starting in her eyes. ‘It wasn’t him.’
‘What d’you mean, it wasn’t him? You mean to say you’ve been going around with more than one?’
‘No, I haven’t!’ Lily cried. ‘And if you want to know who it was, it was Mr Haskin.’
There fell a moment of complete silence. Mrs
Haskin drew in her chin, frowning, bewildered. ‘Mr Haskin? What are you talking about? What do you mean, it was Mr Haskin?’
‘Exactly that,’ Lily said. Her heart was thumping against her ribs. ‘It was Mr Haskin. Your husband. He did it.’
Mrs Haskin was staring at her, eyes wide as saucers. ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, girl. What are you talking about?’
‘Mr Haskin. It was Mr Haskin. On the Sunday night while you were staying with your mother. While you were away that night in Henhurst he came into my room. He – he did it to me. It was Mr Haskin.’
A brief moment of silence passed, then the older woman’s hand flashed out and caught Lily a stinging blow on the cheek, so hard that she staggered back, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. As Lily put a hand up to her smarting cheek, Mrs Haskin cried out in a passion:
‘How dare you say such a thing!’ As she spoke, little flecks of saliva flew from her lips. ‘Shut your filthy mouth, you little slut.’ She raised her hand again. ‘And get out! Get out of my house. You’re not staying here another day. I want you gone – now.’
Chapter Eight
Lily was in her old bedroom, the one she shared with Dora. It was Saturday, just turned two o’clock. She sat at the small table that, years ago, her father had set there, to aid her in her studies towards becoming a teacher. Such a distant dream. There was no one else in the house. Her father was not yet back from work, and her stepmother and Dora had gone out to visit friends. Her brother Tom was, as on most days, out working on the farm.