Loretta Proctor

by The Crimson Bed

  She laughed heartily, ‘There’s nice! And after you had such a good time that your cock aches with it! Me drag people down?… Well, onto the bed maybe. But they aren’t there because of me, mister, but because of what they want of me. Don’t you forget that. It’s what men want and girls like me supply it.’

  As they parted, she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, ‘And you’ll be back for more, my dear – you’ll be back for more now you’ve had a taste of it. And you do have a taste for it… I know!’

  Chapter 26

  ‘And so the life blood of this rose

  Puddled with shameful knowledge, flows

  Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose.’

  Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Jenny

  Calling round at Winstone’s studio a week later, Fred found Henry busily painting his new lover, a tall, statuesque blonde called Tippy Jennings. He had come across her on top of an omnibus and was immediately fascinated by the girl. A horse had slipped in the rain and fallen down in its shafts. The bus and other traffic were obliged to stop. Eager street boys came dashing up to sit on the poor creature’s head to stop it thrashing about so that it could be released from its harness. Sadly, the horse had broken its foreleg and had to be shot and carted away to the abattoir for horsemeat.

  This had been a heavensent opportunity for Henry to strike up a conversation with the pretty passenger, who was leaning over the side of the omnibus and shouting along with others at the scene below, giving advice, cursing or cheering according to the mood and need.

  ‘Poor creatures,’ the girl had remarked as she turned towards Henry, ‘I hate to see ‘em drop like that. Poor overworked things!’

  She seemed genuinely upset and Henry felt it showed a kind heart. Her beauty stunned him. He had to paint her come what may. Why had he ever thought Rosie Gamm a beauty? Compared to this glorious girl, Rosie was an overblown rose, soon to be fat and blowsy.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he had said, ‘I know you don’t know me from Adam but I’m a well-known artist round here. I would really like to have you sit for me. You have such a very beautiful face and it is just what I need for a picture I’m engaged on right now. Would you agree to come?’

  The girl looked at him with immense suspicion.

  ‘I’ve heard some but that’s the best,’ she sniffed. ‘Artist indeed!’

  ‘Here’s my card,’ he said, desperate as he saw her begin to move as if to alight. ‘Please come. You can bring your mother, sister, friend, the Prime Minister with you. I don’t care if you bring the whole neighbourhood as long as you come.’

  The girl laughed and took a closer look at him. He was handsome and looked a gentleman.

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he said, catching at her gloved hand as she made to stand up and depart.

  ‘Tippy Jennings. You can call at the tailor’s shop in Tufton Street and ask my Dad’s permission if you like. He’s always after a bit of extra cash, assuming you mean to pay.’

  ‘Of course I’ll pay. It’s purely a business arrangement, you understand. I’ll call tomorrow.’

  And he had done so. At first, Tippy’s father hedged about the issue but he realised that Henry was a gentleman and let himself be won round by a few golden guineas. He knew perfectly well that Henry had something other than modelling on his mind by the way that young man’s eyes devoured his pretty daughter. However, he had no great objections to her being with a gentleman. That might lead to marriage if properly handled by all the interested parties.

  Tippy was a generous, cheerful and kindly girl and it wasn’t long before they became lovers. A week, in fact. Unlike the erstwhile Rose, she was quite well educated, writing with a neat, pretty hand and interested in books and pictures. What was more she was willing to learn and had a genuine desire to better herself.

  Looking at her dispassionately, Fred had to admit that Tippy was a beauty though Fred felt she was not a good deal different in looks or attitude to Rosie. But this seemed to be the type that his friend liked. And for the present she had her youth, was more slender and imposing, her skin creamy white and she possessed an amazing wealth of tumbling hair, rippling and golden as cornfields.

  ‘Remember Rossetti’s poem, the one he began years ago?’ said Henry, ‘the one about Jenny?

  ‘Lazy, laughing, languid Jenny,

  Fond of a kiss and fond of a guinea… ‘… I sometimes think Rosie Gamm was the very type he paints in both his pictures and in his poem. But not my Tippy; she’s a good, quiet, sweet girl and she has re-inspired my work. I’m worried though, Fred. Sometimes I feel I’ve lost my ability to paint and might never achieve anything as good as those few pictures I did after Ellie’s portrait. I was at my best then.’

  ‘You’ve changed, Henry, I’ve changed. The world has changed,’ said Fred, ‘Tastes differ and the public are looking for a different kind of art. Rossetti has hit the right note with his sensuous lovely women, embodiments of the feminine and rich and lovely – but basically they’re just pretty pictures to hang on the wall and then forget to look at after a while.’

  ‘I want to do better than that, though. Rossetti is fine in his way and Millais, of course, but both have turned towards being popular at the expense of being unique and innovative. Well, they need the ‘tin’, as Rossetti would say. Hunt executes his works with accuracy and beauty but they are always oddly lifeless and static. Now, I want to paint the picture that will last for all time. I don’t want to be thrown forgotten into some attic. Tippy is alive now and lovely and I want her to be immortalised forever and admired by a future generation of people. You’re right. I need to see what sells in the private galleries, not keep trying to please the Academy. They’re always behind the times, that bunch of old fogeys. Do you think I’m past my best, Fred?’

  ‘Not a bit. In fact, as an artist, your brushwork is far better, more firm and masterly. It’s ideas you need.’

  Henry flung out his arms, ‘Ideas! Yes, ideas. I shall take Tippy abroad with me to Italy and Paris and maybe get a few new ideas from the painters there. What fun we’ll have, eh, Tippy?’

  ‘You’ll get plenty of ideas in Paris,’ said Fred rather sourly. ‘Frankly, I can’t stand their stuff. But I have a feeling that daubed, sketchy rubbish is going to become more and more popular. ‘

  ‘From what I hear they are on the right track. Photography has meant there is no need for all that painstaking detail the PreRaphs are so fond of. We need imagery now, we need illusion, colour, light. Art must go in new directions altogether. I’m going to paint a picture all in blue,’ said Henry thoughtfully, ‘a picture of Tippy leaning out of a window and looking down at the sea below, a long drop down as one might see in Northumberland where the cliffs are so immense and the sea breaks and foams miles down below. I’ve always loved the feeling of vistas and depths. I think I need to go to Italy to see such a scene as I have in mind.’

  ‘I’d love to go to Italy,’ said Tippy, breaking her pose, ‘I’ve never been to the sea. I want to see the sea and the world too. But Dad won’t let me go with you, you know that.’

  ‘I do know that,’ said Henry with a smile, ‘and I know what his proviso will be. All that can be arranged.’

  ‘Are you proposin’?’

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘D’you hear that, Mr Thorpe? You’re a witness, you are,’ said Tippy, laughing and delighted, running over to Henry and hugging him, ‘you’re my witness. I’ll sue him for breach of promise if he don’t follow through now!’

  ‘Mind my paintbrush, you’ll get covered in green! Yes, Fred can be our witness and my best man as I was at his wedding. We’ll make you legal, Miss Tippy Jennings.’

  The pair began to kiss with unashamed passion. Henry loosened his intended and grinned.

  ‘I’m not losing this girl,’ he said. ‘I’ll make her Mrs Winstone as soon as I can.’ He turned to her and said, ‘Not a very romantic proposal, my dear, it somehow slipped out. But
I’ll go down on my knees and all that when we’re in Paris, walking by the Seine in the moonlight.’

  ‘Ooh, yes,’ she breathed, ‘that would be real romantic.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Fred wryly. He wondered in his cynical manner how long it would last.

  Tippy was too excited to be still again so she decided to take a break now and went into the storeroom to make them all some coffee.

  ‘Tippy does seem to be bringing you some happiness, Henry,’ said Fred. He saw the joy on his friend’s face and added sincerely, ‘I’m delighted for you and I know Ellie will be also.’

  ‘Tippy is a glorious girl,’ enthused Henry. ‘She is warm and gentle, not abrasive like that wretched Rosie. At the same time, there are no pretences, none of your false primness and middle class mores. The girl is healthy and free as the birds in the sky.’

  ‘So you’ve got over Rose?’

  Henry paused for a moment and looked at Fred.

  ‘I loved Rosie dearly. However, she had a harsh greedy side to her nature and she betrayed and humiliated me. I’m not a man easily to forget or forgive. Now, I’m glad all that ended because it led me to dear, tenderhearted Tippy. I know we shall be supremely suited and very happy.’

  ‘If anything Tippy seems a better class sort of girl altogether. I think you can improve her easily. Yes, I think you will indeed be happy.’

  If only Fred could say that his experience with Sue was tender. It was just the opposite. Ellie was warm and tender while Sue was harsh and cruel at times, causing him both emotional and bodily pain – yet oddly this excited him about her. Why did he feel he needed this pain? Was it because it assuaged his guilt over Bessie, which still rankled somewhere deep inside? Or was it because he had been too cosseted and relaxed all his life and needed the opposite? Something to wake him, make him feel more alive?

  ‘I have a confession to make, Henry,’ whispered Fred, ‘I’ve taken up with a whore.’

  Henry laughed so heartily that Fred couldn’t help but join in.

  ‘Oh, Fred, thank God for that! Thought you’d always be so good that you’d go in for the priesthood. Now at last you’re being a naughty boy!’

  ‘Shush! I don’t want Tippy to hear of this! You’re a fine one to talk.’ said Fred giving Henry a playful punch on the shoulder.

  ‘True, true. But I never pretended otherwise. I have always been faithful to myself and my needs. You know, I always had a suspicion that something dark and turgid lurked in the basement of your pristine nature. So you have a whore, you dog! And what’s her name?’

  ‘Sue.’

  ‘And what’s she like in bed?’

  ‘Damned good.’

  ‘Sounds wonderful to me.’

  ‘She does the most outrageous things. I like it all too well. But Henry, afterwards I feel sordid and feel I can’t look my family in the eye. I can’t bear the thought of what Ellie would say if she ever found out.’

  ‘Why should she find out? I certainly won’t tell her.’

  ‘I know. It’s just my own knowing. I go to the public baths straight afterwards and scrub my body till it feels as if the skin is coming off. It’s not because Sue isn’t a clean woman in her person. She is. I wouldn’t touch her if she wasn’t; you know how fastidious I am.’

  ‘I’ll say you are. I’m nothing like as fussy; don’t even care if Tippy’s got the red flag flying.’

  Fred shuddered at this thought. Henry could be so coarse. He went on, ‘But all the same, there’s no knowing with such women if they are clean inside, if you get my point.’

  ‘Scared of the clap?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Henry frowned. ‘It’s always a worry. I’m glad that Tippy devotes herself to me so I can be sure she’s all right. Make sure this woman doesn’t go with other men, maybe that’s the answer. Does she love you or is it purely a business transaction?’

  ‘Oh, don’t, Henry. You make it all sound so sordid,’ sighed Fred. ‘Business, I’m afraid. She’s not a loving woman… at least she doesn’t love me. ..I suppose she finds me attractive but I know she has other men. She made it clear to me that I was a client.’ He sat down and put his head in his hands, ‘It sounds terrible when one speaks of it like this. I feel ashamed – what else can I say?’

  ‘Say no more. You may well find it relieves a temporary itch and in a little while you won’t feel the need. Ellie has had her babies and so she’s going to be a bit frigid for a while. And I can’t see her wielding a birch to your arse. If that’s your occasional need, then keep Sue in the background as a useful relief for high days and holidays. It’s business so she won’t make any fuss. Better that way. Ellie gives you all the love you want. You don’t need this whore’s love too, do you?’

  ‘I couldn’t love her in a million years and she couldn’t love me. You’re right, Henry. I just wish we men didn’t have these weird needs. When I’m with Sue, it seems urgent and necessary. But when I sober up, so to speak, I feel horrified. It’s as if two men live inside me, both wanting to fight each other.’

  ‘I understand totally. Give up the fight and let each man in you have his day. We’re all split like this between God and the Devil. Be like the French and make sure you keep your whore and your wife well apart. That’s the way.’

  That seemed to make sense and Fred felt glad that he’d confided in Henry now.

  Chapter 27

  Despite his words, Fred did like to think that Sue had some feeling for him. He asked her once and she looked almost surprised.

  ‘My dear, if I had feelings for all my gents, where would I be? Can’t allow myself anything as elegant as feelings. That’s for nice ladies. Your missus, she has feelings for you, I suppose?’

  ‘Of course. She loves me dearly.’

  ‘There you go. You’re just being greedy. She wouldn’t cheat on you, now would she?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Fred was indignant but then a picture of Ellie leaning with her dark head against Dillinger’s greying one and the pair of them murmuring to one another in some peculiarly intimate manner arose before him. He knew he was being foolish.

  ‘Of course not,’ he said again but Sue, who was watching him with those cold blue eyes of hers, smiled to herself. He doubts her, she thought. Ha, ha! Maybe his fine lady isn’t so fine after all.

  Obedient to her whims, he brought over the occasional picture that appealed to her. She mainly wanted Markham’s pictures of Jessaline.

  ‘Doesn’t she look lovely?’ said Sue, looking at the latest picture with delight. The painted Jessaline sat in a pink velvet gown, looking pensively out of a window, supposedly with a lover’s letter in her lap.

  ‘She does nicely as a model and likes the work. Jess always did like to sit still all day. Suits her fine, the lazy little sod,’ Sue said with a laugh.

  ‘Well, I’m glad she enjoys it and it pays her well, doesn’t it? She hasn’t gone back on the game, I hope?’

  Sue looked at Fred with one of her little smiles and gave a shrug.

  ‘Well now, Mr Prim and Proper, how am I to know that? She may eke out her cash with an occasional aquaintance or two. Why does it bother you so much? If it wasn’t for girls like Jess and me, you poor dears would die of frustration. Be grateful for our services.’

  She moved over to him and put her arms about his neck. Her body was scented with some faint perfume, which immediately stirred him – the scent bringing with it the memory of his varied pleasures in her bed.

  They kissed a long while and her kisses were always arousing, she pushing her little tongue between his teeth, searching and enticing forth his own tongue that had fearfully clamped to the roof of his mouth.

  ‘You always need loosening up,’ she said. ‘You really need to let go. What’s your worry? If you’re going to meet me, you may as well enjoy it, dear boy. Consciences are for fools. Life is short. Let’s get on with it.’

  Her hand moved over to his crotch, pulling him up hard between his legs, a sudden gesture that ma
de him gasp.

  ‘And what’s your fancy today, Mr Prim and Proper. A nice little tickle with Sue’s riding whip? Or does your cock need a little attention?’

  Fred had gone to see Markham in order to negotiate the purchase of his latest picture of Jessaline as lonely Ruth in the cornfields of Boaz. It was a fine picture, full of colour and detail as the sun sank behind the now emptied and deserted fields and Ruth, a hand on her aching back, bent to glean the corn that had fallen.

  ‘I will send it to be framed tomorrow. I think your buyer likes nice, elaborate frames. A gold one with a golden mount maybe? Or a white mount, what d’you think? I’m quite pleased with the sunset effect… almost Turneresque. Ruskin would be proud of me. Though I suppose Hunt would have gone all the way to Jerusalem to capture the light in a field there,’ said Markham with a smile as he showed it to Fred.

  ‘Yes, well, Hunt… he never compromises on anything.’

  ‘He is a bit much, in my opinion. Frankly, I don’t care for his work a good deal. There is always something peculiarly wooden in his figures or maybe it’s the didactic theme that so irritates. D’you like my little Ruth?’

  ‘I like her very well.’

  ‘Who is this mysterious buyer of yours, Thorpe?’

  ‘Mysterious,’ was the evasive reply, ‘and likes to remain so.’

  Jessaline, who was dressing herself behind the screen, came forth at this remark, pulling on her little jacket.

  ‘ ‘T’ain’t no mystery. Take no notice of Georgie Porgie,’ she said, ‘it’s my friend Sue what buys my pictures. She’s making a collection and says they’ll be worth even more one day when Oldham sells ‘em on up north.’

  ‘Well, I care not who buys them or who sells them on so long as I get paid now,’ said Markham with a laugh, ‘the ways of dealers and agents in art are beyond me. I paint. That’s all I care to do and am glad people want to buy the results.’