The Other Wife

by Juliet Bell

  ‘The only time we leave is to go on school trips. We really don’t know what’s out there.’ The idea was overwhelming – there was a whole world waiting to chew us up. ‘Maybe we should stay here and become nuns?’

  Helen laughed. She had a lovely laugh, soft and sweet, like her.

  ‘You would not make a good nun, Jane.’

  ‘Why not?’ I had faith. It was my touchstone – one of the only things I could always trust, and I didn’t care about missing out on all that stuff with boys. That would be a relief, if anything.

  Helen shook her head. ‘You have too much energy and curiosity to be happy settling for life here as a nun.’

  She was missing my point. ‘But I don’t know anything about life. I’ve never even kissed anyone.’

  ‘You’ve kissed me.’

  I fell silent. I had kissed Helen. On the cheek. And once she’d planted a kiss on my lips after we came out of a really hard exam where she was convinced she’d passed. That wasn’t what I meant. ‘Not like that.’

  ‘So how do you want to kiss me?’

  I didn’t reply. I didn’t know the words. But I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to know what it felt like to touch her. I wanted to stay in this garden forever with Helen. And I didn’t have the words to explain that, so I needed another way to show her.

  I placed my lips gently on hers. They tasted like honey, just as sweet and soft as she was. Her fingertips brushed my cheek. It was a perfect moment. There was me, and there was Helen. And no one to hurt us.

  Then she pulled away.

  I almost didn’t dare open my eyes, but when I did she was smiling. I kissed her again, longer and harder, and, for the first time, our tongues touched. My heart began to beat a little faster. No part of me wanted to stop. I’d had one kiss, and now another. I wanted to keep going, keep exploring. I wanted more of her. I wanted to give her more of me.

  Something stopped me. This time, I pulled away.

  ‘Jane?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ Helen sat up and looked at me.

  ‘It’s… It’s wrong.’ I hated saying it out loud. It sounded like a rejection and it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. She was all I wanted, but I loved God. I loved the feeling of safety and community that I’d experienced from the very first time I’d been part of a church. We laughed at the nuns sometimes, but, I knew in my heart that what they taught us about Jesus, about the gospel, was true. And they taught us that what I’d done with Helen was wrong.

  ‘It’s not.’ She took a deep breath in. ‘I love you. When we’re together, nothing else matters. I thought you felt the same?’

  It was the hint of uncertainty in her voice that was my undoing. Helen had always had a certainty about her decisions that I couldn’t match, but now she was looking to me for reassurance. I looked around the garden that the two of us had built. We’d made something beautiful.

  ‘I do feel the same.’

  Her smile was so wide I thought it might crack her face. ‘It’s not wrong, Jane. Nothing that is based on love can be wrong.’

  I nodded. In my head I pushed all thoughts of God and the church to one side, and gave myself totally to my feelings for Helen. The two things were separate. Helen and I together was something wonderful. It was just something that needed to be kept private, separate from everything else. I bent my head towards her, and kissed her again.

  Chapter 18

  Betty

  ‘Hey. What you doing?’

  Betty turned towards the voice. The boy had been in her year at school. They’d made out after school once, ages ago now – just pashing, kids’ stuff. Betty hadn’t seen him at all last term. ‘Nothing much. Where you been?’

  ‘The parents moved me to a private school.’ He fell into step beside her as they walked across the park. ‘Boor-ring. No girls there. No-one like you.’ He glanced at her, looking up and down until his eyes came to rest on her boobs.

  This was the thing that made her powerful; the thing that set her apart from everyone else. She might have to follow a lot of other people’s rules most of the time, but, when it came to this, she could set the rules. The other girls might look through her as if she wasn’t there, but the boys didn’t. All she had to do was smile. Or bend over to flash them a look at her boobs. Or her backside in a miniskirt. Then they were in her power.

  She wasn’t like those neat little girls with their perfect bouncy ponytails and their posters of David Cassidy and the Bee Gees. They talked earnestly about how far they’d gone with some boy. And how he wanted more, but they weren’t the type of girl who did that. And sometimes they’d shoot a look at Betty when they said that. And inside, Betty would just laugh.

  Those girls didn’t understand. It didn’t have to mean anything. It was fun. And you got to decide who and when. Sex was power. Betty ran her hand over her hair, smoothed by the milk and honey mixture, like she’d done three mornings a week every week since she was six years old. They could make her look like them but that didn’t mean her body belonged to them. It was hers. And she could do whatever – whoever – she liked with it.

  ‘Do you wanna have some fun?’

  He nodded. She grabbed his hand as a rush of excitement took her. She led him away from the path into a bit of the park that was overgrown with bushes. She knew this place well. She spun around and leant back against the tree. That look was on his face. The look that told her he wanted her. He grinned as he moved towards her and pressed his lips to hers.

  Betty responded hungrily. This was her favourite thing to do. She clung to him as he pushed his hands under her loose, thin skirt and hooked his fingers around her knickers. Her own hands went to his waistband, pulling at the buttons on his jeans.

  ‘Eliza…’ He grunted the name into her neck.

  ‘Call me Betty.’

  ‘What? But?’

  ‘Just shut up.’ She pressed her lips against his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth to stop him talking. If he wouldn’t call her Betty, she didn’t want him to call her anything.

  He took the hint, moving his hands to his hips and easing his jeans and grundies down.

  She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small packet.

  ‘Put this on.’

  ‘What?’ He glanced down at the condom. ‘No way. Not gonna wear one of those things.’

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away.

  ‘Then you don’t get to do this.’

  He didn’t even hesitate. He just did as she ordered and her blood surged with the feeling of power. She had him. She pulled him back to her body. She ground her crotch against him, pulling him deeper into her, searching for that release. She heard his breath growing ragged and felt his fingers digging deeper into her butt. He wasn’t any good. He was done within seconds of getting going. He gasped for breath and his knees sagged. That made Betty feel even stronger. When she felt the energy drain out of him, it was as if she had taken it from him.

  She put a hand firmly on his chest and pushed him back. He stood there, staring at her, daks round his knees. She could see something like awe in his eyes, and she knew she was his first. He would never forget her.

  ‘When can we… you… again?’

  He liked her. He wanted to do it again. She felt a deep satisfaction that had nothing to do with physical release.

  ‘Maybe.’

  She stepped out of her knickers, picked them up and stuffed them in her pocket, and made to walk away.

  She stopped.

  Richard was walking across the park towards her. She ducked back into the bushes and signalled to the boy to be quiet. She listened as Richard’s footsteps slowly went past.

  She had avoided him as much as possible since that day. She wasn’t afraid that he’d try and have her again. Mr Mason had plans for her, so Richard wouldn’t be allowed to touch her again. But she didn’t want him to tell his father what she was doing with the other boys. She understood that her being pure and clean
was important to Mr Mason’s plans.

  Mason wanted her now he had a use for her.

  The boys wanted her.

  She wasn’t someone to be passed around and abandoned anymore.

  Chapter 19

  Jane

  The clear note of the bell cut through the muted conversation in the dining hall. Everyone fell silent as Sister Mary Gabriel stood up.

  ‘Girls, immediately after the meal, everyone in the senior school is to make their way to the assembly hall. Teachers, if you could please ensure the younger girls are escorted to their dormitories early. Lights may be kept on for an extra half hour to allow the girls to read or study.’

  There were a few questioning glances around the room as the sister sat down again. Sunday evening assemblies were reserved for important announcements, like the retirement of one of the sisters, or the arrival of a new teacher.

  I looked across to the next table, where Helen was sitting. School rules determined that we must all rotate around different tables, to get to know our fellow students and to develop the art of conversation. At least, that was what the teachers said. I always thought it was just designed to stop friends sitting together and being too rowdy. Not that I cared. Helen and I were often separated by the daily goings on at school, but when classes were over, we had our garden and we had each other.

  I was happy, so happy that some days it was a struggle not to shout out how I felt to the whole school, but I knew I couldn’t. Publicly, we were best friends, so of course we were together as we sat in the assembly hall. Every now and then, we would let our hands brush, or our fingers touch, but I was confident that our secret was safe.

  The nuns had seats on the stage in front of us. Surprisingly, Father Brook wasn’t there. He’d given a very loud sermon in chapel about sins of the flesh, before hearing confession and then dining with the sisters at the head table. I went to confession each week, but I never said anything about Helen. The two things were separate. I loved God and I loved Helen. The only way that made sense was if I never let the two mix, even in my own thoughts.

  ‘Silence, please.’

  Sister Mary Gabriel, who was now our headmistress, got to her feet. She looked around the room, her gaze not resting on anyone in particular.

  ‘I want to talk about something very important, and I want you to pay attention. This is a very serious matter.’

  The hall fell silent. All eyes were on Sister Gabriel.

  ‘You are no longer really girls. You are young women and I know Matron has assisted some of you as you reach this milestone in your lives.’

  While the nuns on the stage looked perfectly composed, a few of the girls giggled or stared at their hands. Some of us might talk about periods to one another, but the idea of Sister Mary Gabriel giving a lecture on the subject was mortifying.

  ‘This is also the time you begin to experience… feelings. Such feelings are given by God to a man and a woman for when they enter holy matrimony. Feelings that lead to the joy of children.’

  A few more of the girls sniggered now.

  ‘But…’ The forceful word brought an end to the giggles. ‘Sometimes, when you are young, these feelings can become confused.’

  I was sure my heart had stopped beating. I didn’t dare look at Helen sitting next to me.

  ‘It is possible that these feelings might be directed at another girl among you.’

  Heads began turning as the girls looked from one to another, wondering who was ‘confused’.

  Sister Mary Gabriel looked sternly over us all. ‘Our Holy Father, Pope Paul, says that any act between two people of the same gender is depraved and counter to God’s word. It is sinful and those who act this way are condemned to damnation. But if you feel this way, and do not act upon it, then we are here to help you. Our Blessed Pontiff and the Church know that such deviant feelings can be cured, with proper teaching and adherence to church law. With confession and the love of our Lord Jesus Christ.’

  A wave of nausea swept through my body. I swallowed hard, trying to look straight ahead. I didn’t want to listen to any more. Somehow they knew. My two nice separate worlds – my love and my faith – were colliding. Sister Mary Gabriel thought we were sinners. We had acted on our feelings so we were beyond saving now. Depraved. Deviant. Those were her words for us.

  I sat, trapped in my seat, until the lecture was over, and then stood up and joined the line of girls leaving the hall. Miss Temple escorted us back to the boarding house. Normally she chatted to the older girls quite happily, but tonight she was silent, her mouth fixed in a thin line, presumably shocked by what we’d all heard.

  I had to know if we had been found out, but I had to sound casual, as if I wasn’t asking for any reason at all. ‘Miss Temple? Do the sisters know of anyone who… ’ I wasn’t sure how to end the sentence.

  Miss Temple folded her arms, and dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Jane, I think you and the other girls should go to your rooms and prepare for bed. I don’t want to discuss what the headmistress said. It’s a matter for each of you to reflect on individually.’

  The boarding house took a long time to settle that night. Girls whispered together long after lights out. I lay in my bed waiting until all was quiet and everyone was asleep. Helen and I slipped silently out of our beds and tiptoed through to our cubicle. With the door shut behind us, we sat down side by side.

  ‘That was us she was talking about,’ I whispered. ‘The sisters know.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’ As always, Helen was more confident, more definite than I. ‘If they knew, we’d have been called into the office. They’d have just talked to us about their holy cure.’

  I knew that what I was going to say next would hurt her, but I couldn’t lie to Helen, even by omission. ‘What if they’re right?’

  ‘They’re not.’

  ‘But what if this is a sin? What if we could be cured and made normal? The pope said…’

  ‘If the pope said that, he was wrong.’

  Those words shocked me. ‘I thought you believed?’

  ‘I did.’ She put her hand against my cheek and turned me to face her. ‘I do. I believe that God made us, but I think he made us capable of love. I don’t believe love is a sin. Not ever.’

  She kissed me, and I let her, but my eyes were filling with tears. I wanted to believe her. I truly did.

  Chapter 20

  Betty

  Betty ran along the street, rain soaking through her thin blouse. Rain. Rain was delicious. If only the air would turn cold to go with it, she’d be able to imagine she was somewhere else entirely. The thought stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned her face to the sky, mouth open wide, and let the rain fall onto her face, between her lips, dancing on her skin. There was a hint of a memory there – snow falling, white and cold, and Betty turning her tiny face upwards, trying to catch a flake on her tongue. Her father laughing in the background. In her imagination she tried to turn and look at his face, but the image blurred and faded away.

  ‘Eliza! Eliza! Come inside.’

  Mr Mason was standing on the porch, glancing quickly one way and then the other along the street. Betty stomped towards the house.

  ‘What are you doing out in this weather?’

  ‘It’s just rain.’

  He shook his head. ‘And dressed like that.’ He pointed towards her skirt and blouse, both stuck tight to her body and going see-through in the rain.

  ‘It’s not cold.’

  ‘Go and get changed. And then come and find me.’

  Betty did as she was told. The new order in the house hadn’t really settled yet. Since Mr Mason had caught Richard trying it on with her in the kitchen, Richard had been nice as pie. And Betty had been eating with the family. She was being included, though not in everything. Mr Mason’s lectures about the stock numbers and auctions and land leases were reserved for Richard. Sometimes he muttered that if Mrs Mason had been there, she could have shown Betty how to do things.

  But M
rs Mason wasn’t there.

  When she’d changed her clothes, she found Mr Mason sitting on his own in his office, a large room at the back of the house. He called it his study, which sounded very serious and important for a big plain room, with square shelves filled with box files and dull grey filing cabinets that didn’t quite close properly. This was where Mr Mason did his actual work, rather than at the big dining table where he talked about work.

  He didn’t look up when she came in. Betty waited, uncertain what to do next. He didn’t acknowledge her. She cleared her throat. She thought she saw a hint of a frown cross his face, but nothing else.

  ‘You wanted to…’

  He held up a hand. ‘Wait.’

  Betty stomped angrily across the room and threw herself into the chair opposite Mr Mason.

  ‘I told you to wait.’

  ‘I’m waiting here.’

  ‘This is what we have to deal with.’ He folded the map he had open on the desk and stared at her. ‘This wilfulness has to go. You’re not stringing along some yahoo you met at the beach. The men I entertain are powerful people. Rich people. They have some standards.’

  Betty didn’t answer. In her experience, men didn’t have standards. Men had lust and that’s what led them. Mason was probably no different. She licked her lips and leant forward, letting him get a good look down her top.

  He turned away. ‘Stop it. Silly girl.’

  Betty sat up straight.

  ‘You’re not going to be doing any of that sort of thing.’

  ‘Most blokes like that sort of thing.’

  ‘I’m sure they do. But you’re of no use to me if you’ve got a reputation. And if the men I work with have seen what you’re offering. You’re a Mason. Now act like it.’

  Betty frowned.

  ‘The Mason family is going somewhere, you know. My father didn’t have two coins to rub together in England. He came here with nothing. Years before you and the rest of these ten-pound Poms. And he worked. And I took what he worked for and turned it into all this.’