One day Mother told us at luncheon that the Eameses were staying with Sam Killearn, and they were all coming over to Hatton that afternoon. I did not want to meet other people, so as soon as we had left the table I put on my brogues and mackintosh and slipped out of the family entrance. There was a blustery wind and squally bursts of rain beat into my face, but I was grateful to the weather for it meant that I could let the tears run unchecked down my cheeks, and no one would notice. My legs carried me mechanically in the direction I wanted to go – I had no need to think, only to weep as I walked up the lane to Lostherne.
I stood for a long time in the churchyard, but I could not feel my brothers there; so at last I turned away from their grave and trudged slowly back to Hatton. But I had only just taken my wet shoes off when Letty came bursting into my room. ‘Hellie, thank goodness you’ve come back – you must come down to the drawing room at once.’
‘No – I don’t wish to meet the Eameses – or Sam Killearn.’
‘Don’t be silly, Helena – of course you can cut the Eameses as often as you please – it’s not that – your engine driver’s here.’ I looked at her blankly, so she added impatiently, ‘You know – Ben Holden. For goodness’ sake pull yourself together, Hellie – Mother’s eating him alive downstairs, and the poor man’s only come because of you.’
‘Because of me?’
Letty mimicked Ben’s Lancastrian accent mercilessly: ‘“To see ’ow Lady ’Elena’s keeping” – Come on, put some shoes on.’ Helplessly I obeyed her. ‘And splash your eyes, Helena – you look a fright.’
Mother was with her guests in the big drawing room – the room was full of smartly dressed, clever people, talking in drawling, confident voices. Ben Holden sat among them perched uneasily on an elegant gilded chair – and looking as out of place as a heap of his own coal would have done if dumped on the Aubusson carpet. As soon as he saw me he reared up and the delicate gold chair rocked dangerously. All the careless eyes turned to stare a moment in our direction, before averting blank, well-bred faces from the sight of his ill-cut suit and my tear-stained cheeks.
As Ben blundered towards me Mother’s voice hissed in my ear. ‘Perhaps you would like to take your guest somewhere else for tea, Helena.’ I turned without a word and Ben followed me through the door and into the hall. But at the foot of the staircase I stopped – I could not go into the small drawing room now.
John stepped forward. ‘The library, my lady.’ He swung the door open and I walked in, Ben at my heels.
We stood in the centre of the room and looked at each other. The sweat stood out on his forehead like tiny beads as he pushed his damp hair back with his large work-roughened hand. ‘I asked for you – but they didn’t know where you were.’
‘I was in the graveyard.’ And as I spoke the tears slid smoothly down my cheeks, but now there was no kindly concealing rain and the man in front of me stepped forward, his face appalled.
He began to rummage in his jacket pocket. ‘I’ve got a clean handkerchief, somewhere.’
I shook my head and reached into my sleeve. ‘It’s all right, Ben – I always carry one ready now.’
He said, ‘I shouldn’t have come – I’ve only made it worse for you.’ His face was drawn and disturbed, and I felt pity for him in his clumsy dismay.
‘No Ben, nothing can make it worse.’
The door opened silently; it was John with the tea tray. The drawing up of chairs, the silver gleam of the tea pot, the discreet, ‘Shall I pour, my lady?’ – all served to restore my composure a little and I managed to smile my dismissal and keep my hand steady as I reached for the curved silver handle. ‘Milk and sugar, Ben? Oh, but you don’t take sugar, do you – how silly of me to forget. Do have a scone.’
It was very quiet in the library; the heavy connecting door muffled the low murmur of conversation from the drawing room – nearby, there was only the steady champing of the jaws of the man opposite. At last he swallowed, took a deep gulp of tea and said baldly, ‘I were worried about you.’
I felt a faint flicker of warmth touch me. ‘Then it was kind of you to come, Ben.’
He leant forward, his voice urgent. ‘I don’t reckon it’s good for you to stay here, Lady Helena – what with memories and all. Isn’t there anywhere else you could go – your brother – the one in Canada – couldn’t you go an’ visit him, mebbe?’
And as he spoke a longing for Guy took hold of me, and for Nanny - but no, not Nanny. The hope shrivelled and died. ‘How could I go there - and not tell them?’
‘Aye.’ His lips tightened.
The words of the priest echoed in my head: ‘I will keep my mouth as it were with a bridle… I held my tongue and spake nothing.’ And I must speak nothing, least of all to Guy who had loved Robbie, and Nanny who had nursed him at her breast. ‘I must keep silent, Ben.’
Ben Holden’s eyes fell before mine. Then, with an effort, he spoke again. ‘But you don’t have to keep silent with me – I thought, it might help you – if I came – me knowing…’
He floundered on and I felt sorry for him in his distress so that the lie came easily: ‘Yes, it does help – thank you Ben.’
His expression as he looked up was that of a dog who has received an unlooked-for pat, and now he spoke more confidently. ‘So I were wondering, if mebbe you’d like to come to Ainsclough one day – and spend afternoon with me.’ His last words came out in a rush.
‘To Ainsclough, with you?’ I was bewildered.
‘Just for a break, like. I told clerk I were available for next few Sundays, so I’ve not got full day off – but in week I’m on earlies for a while, I can be home soon after ten some days – mebbe you could come one of them?’
I did not reply, so he went on, ‘We could go for a walk on tops – on moors. Moors helped me when I first came back from war. I could meet train – all trains, say, from eleven while one. If you’re not on, well, no matter – I’ll be having a chat with Jim on platform. So you needn’t feel bound – just if you want to. I’d be going up on tops meself, anyroad – you can come if you fancy – but only if you do.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Ben – but I’m not sure –’
He broke in, ‘I’ll give you a choice – I’ll write soon as I know more about me shifts and tell you dates – then you needn’t decide like until morning itself. I’ll wait, just in case. Don’t feel bound, but I’ll be there.’
And now I was touched by his simple, uncomplicated kindness. He had told me how the moors had helped him, and had come to offer his own solution to me. ‘Thank you, Ben – I’ll remember.’
He stood up quickly. ‘Then I’d best be off.’
‘I’ll ring for John to see you out’ – but he was through the door before my hand had touched the bell. As I went back upstairs I felt a little wanner; I could not go, of course – but I was grateful for his well-meant kindness.
At dinner Mother vented her annoyance at Ben’s untimely arrival on me. She was angry too at my distraught appearance before her guests: ‘Really, Helena, you’re behaving like a child – it’s time you pulled yourself together.’ I fought back the threatening tears with difficulty.
She was even more angry with me a week later, when Sir Ernest asked me to sing for him and I told him I could not. He accepted my refusal without protest, but later that evening Mother berated me for my lack of social accomplishments. I sat dumb before her until her face sharpened and she said, ‘Molly Eames has a secretary now – you can act as my secretary, Helena – it will do you good, and be better for you than mooning around in a dream as you are at present. Come to my room at ten o’clock tomorrow. If you won’t sing at least you can write. I presume you can still write, Helena?’
‘Yes, Mother – I can still write.’
When she left us later Letty asked, ‘Whyever didn’t you say “No”, Helena? It’s quite simple, when you know how.’ I did not reply and she went on, ‘I never have any trouble with Mother – but you see she knows you’re frightened of her. But I admit it’s easier for me – I can always play my trump card. You’re not so fortunate there.’
No, because Papa was my father, and I took after him – I was a coward and dared not challenge Mother. At ten the next morning I tapped on the door of my mother’s sitting room, my writing case in my hand. She dictated rapidly as she leafed through her correspondence, and I was glad of the chance to put my pen down when Mrs Hill came in for her daily orders. As Mother consulted with the housekeeper I sifted idly through my own letters, and found Ben Holden’s invitation. He had written and offered me three dates; I felt a momentary pang as I noticed that the first had already gone – I hoped he had not waited too long on the draughty platform at Ainsclough. I put the piece of paper down again as Mother turned back to me. ‘You can arrange the bedrooms for the guests arriving tomorrow, Helena – but bring the plan to me so that I can cast an eye over it before you give it to Mrs Hill.’
I had forgotten there were more guests coming tomorrow – or, more probably, I had simply failed to listen when she told me. I allocated the bedrooms, and Mother rearranged them. Then I drew up a seating plan for dinner as she had told me to do – and she tore that to pieces as well. It seemed to give her some satisfaction; and I could scarcely bring myself to care.
The new guests were young and smart: the women narrow elegant tubes, brandishing elongated cigarette holders and wearing thin arched crescents where their eyebrows had been. I moved amongst them narrowest of all – but I did not smoke, and I saw Mother glaring at my unplucked brows. Chameleon-like, my mother had adapted to the fashions around her – I wondered wherever she put her bosom these days. It was a relief when Letty bounced in, plump calves quivering, hair tossed carelessly up. I played my own part dully, only waiting until the hour when I could escape to the empty loneliness of my room.
At dinner the next day I was beside Rory Foster – I knew him slightly, as I had met him several times in the company of Conan the previous summer. They had both trained as pilots together in the RFC, and he had flown in France for two full years before the crash which had broken his nose and stiffened his leg. ‘Rory had the luck of the devil,’ Conan had said, and he certainly looked devilish tonight in the yellow glow of the candles – his dark curls tumbling and his full lips twisted in a cynical smile. ‘Come, Lady Helena – you must enter into the spirit of the party! I’ve watched you sipping tamely at the same glass through the last three courses – it won’t do, you know.’ He deftly switched his own full glass with mine and tossed off the wine I had left. The glass was instantly refilled and his dark eyes dared me. ‘Drink, Helena, drink.’ I reached for his glass and drank. He threw back his head and laughed – he was already a little tipsy. ‘There – that’s the way to do it. When I squatted in that sandpit on the Peninsula, parched with thirst and waiting for Johnny Turk to take a potshot at me every time I twitched a muscle, why, then I swore that if I ever got out alive I’d drain every glass I could lay my hands on. It’s the only way – the only way.’ His curved mouth mocked me, yet I saw the sympathy in his dark eyes and recklessly I raised the glass again and drained it.
When I stood up after the dessert my legs were trembling; I swayed towards Rory and felt his strong hand grip my elbow. Someone cried, ‘To the fern house – and we’ll settle that bet once and for all.’ I did not know what bet they were talking about, but I was relieved that the younger men were leaving the table with us – I doubted whether I could have walked unaided.
Outside on the terrace it was suddenly cold; I shivered, and Rory took off his jacket and threw it round my shoulders. I held its warmth to me, and then there was a shout of ‘This way!’ and as the noisy crowd took to their heels Rory seized my hand and dragged me after them. Inside the fern house the heavy air smelt of greenery – warm and exotic. Voices rose in heated argument and Rory pulled me into a side aisle and held me to him. I leant against him, careless of who might see us. But the noisy mob were intent on their own affairs: they turned together and surged past us, out of the conservatory, and all at once we were alone, safe behind a rampart of green foliage. A voice called, ‘Everybody out?’ Neither of us spoke. A switch clicked and we were enfolded in soft darkness. Without thought I moved into his seeking arms and pressed myself against his hard chest. His lips found mine and we swayed together in common need. His hands were urgent on my body and as the excitement rose within me I opened my mouth under his. But as I clung to him mindlessly, his head jerked away and sudden light beat against my closed lids. We stood frozen in our green hide until a woman’s silvery voice called, ‘Rory darling, are you lost in there?’ His arms fell away from me and I staggered back. With a shrug and a rueful grin he scooped up his jacket and moved smoothly forward. ‘Margot, my dear – I’ve been waiting for you - we planned to jump out and surprise you in the dark – Helena here swore you’d never be able to find the switch, but you were too clever for us.’
Margot, Margot Janes – Mrs Margot Janes: ‘Denny Janes won’t be coming, of course,’ my mother had said, ‘Margot has other fish to fry.’ And I remembered her rapid alteration of the bedroom plan. Now as I stumbled towards Margot Janes her eyes narrowed under fine arched crescents – and the painted mouth curved into a thin contemptuous smile as she wriggled her sharp white shoulders into Rory’s black jacket. He bent over her in an exaggeratedly protective gesture, and they left me without a backward glance.
The bile rose in my throat and I tripped and almost fell as I ran across the dark lawn until I could collapse, retching, on the cold stone seat. I hated her, I hated him – but, most of all, I hated myself.
When I got up to my bedroom I sat before the mirror and tried to pull and push my disordered hair into some sort of shape – I tried not to look into my eyes – my eyes that were ringed with dark shadows, and dulled with pain and grief. And now I had to go downstairs again, and face the man who had discarded me – and his clever, confident mistress.
I tried to walk in casually, as though I did not care, but I felt myself cringe at the drawing-room door – the air was thick with cigarette smoke and malice. I caught snatches of screeched protestations: ‘My dear, you should have seen her!’
‘It’s too bad the way Ossie watches her every move…’
‘A private detective – oh, that’s not cricket…’
‘And her eldest daughter – like a great fat lump of lard – knocked down to the highest bidder…’
‘If only Papa had been a war profiteer…’
As I listened I knew I had no place here – I could not stay. I threaded my way through to where Mother held court and blurted out, ‘I must go upstairs now – I don’t feel very well – I think I’m starting a cold.’
As I spoke, the words seemed to catch and stumble on my tongue, and Mother leant back against the cushions and blew a perfect fragile smoke ring before saying in reply, ‘Nonsense, Helena, you’re merely drunk.’ Alongside Mother Margot Janes’ lip curved, and she gave a small, malicious titter – beautifully timed, impeccably executed. I stood defenceless before her, then I turned and walked from the room, my head bowed and my cheeks flaming.
Back in my room I tried to take comfort from the fact that they were all leaving tomorrow – and only four of them would be staying to luncheon; but because of my unwilling servitude I knew the names of the four who were staying. I could not, I would not face them – but there was no escape; Mother had so cleverly pre-empted any false appeal to ill health. If I pleaded a headache tomorrow and stayed in my room I would be a laughing stock, and I had nowhere else to go. It was then I remembered Ben Holden’s invitation.
I fumbled desperately in my writing case – when was the next date? I was not sure – then, in blessed relief, I saw that it was tomorrow’s. I had my excuse.
I could not face my mother again, so I wrote a hurried note: ‘Forgotten prior engagement’ – ‘an acquaintance made in France’ – ‘some distance north of Manchester’ – ‘must leave on an early train’. Ben Holden, like the footplateman he was, had given the times of the suitable Blackburn trains, had made everything so easy for me – kind, simple Ben.
I rang for Norah and asked her to deliver the note to my mother in the morning – ‘After I’ve gone, please.’ She took it from me with a small understanding smile.
I slept restlessly, and woke in the night to the sound of tapping footsteps and stifled giggles going past my door. I shrank back under the bedclothes, then remembered with thankfulness that for tomorrow, at least, I had an escape. I clung to that thought gratefully as I fell into a dreamless sleep.