After he had been up to his plot he sat yawning over his newspaper until I suggested an early night. I half expected him to fall asleep as soon as he climbed in after me, but we had only been in bed for a minute or two when I heard his breathing quicken at my back and felt his hand reach out and squeeze my behind. Then it slid down over my satin-covered thigh and began to push up under my nightdress until it could stroke the inside of my legs. I parted them a little and his stroking fingers moved higher as his other arm came round me and pulled me hard back against his chest. He whispered in my ear, ‘Reckon I’d best check where I’m going first – after performance I put up last night.’ I felt his hand gently open me, and lay very still as his blunt fingertip pushed fully inside and began to stroke. He kissed the back of my neck. ‘By feel of that I got a lass here who needs a bit more ’an a finger to see her right. Over you come, and we’ll get this nightie out of way.’ Slowly I rolled over on my back, and lifted my hips so he could push my nightdress up: he came into me at once and I curled my legs round his and tried to move in time to his steady rhythm. ‘That’s lovely lass, that’s lovely – push a bit harder now, don’t be afeared – you won’t push me out. That’s right lass – oh, Helena, Helena…’ and then he was groaning and panting and he did not speak again until he had finished. ‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ He fell asleep at once with his leg across mine and he was too heavy for me to move, so I slept under him.
Waking later I could tell by his breathing he was no longer asleep, and his maleness was pressed hard against me, swollen and throbbing. I felt a flicker of excitement as it jumped against my thigh and stirred a little. At once his voice came out of the darkness, ‘Are you awake, lass?’
‘Yes, Ben.’
I heard his sigh of relief. ‘Come here then, sweetheart – I seem to have been lying here for hours waiting for you to wake up.’ I tugged my nightdress up and raised my knees, spreading them wide. ‘Good lass – you’re getting th’ idea now.’
As soon as he came out he fell asleep again. I lay beside him in the darkness listening to his steady breathing; he had needed me, and I had satisfied him – I could still feel deep in my belly the passage of his strong thrusts – and I tingled between the legs where his weight had pressed against me. I edged myself closer to him and his body seemed to curl round mine as he slept.
Much later I drifted into wakefulness, conscious that a firm hand was pushing between my thighs; he began to stroke them, high up, then his movements became more purposeful – his fingers were so determined now they were almost hurting me. ‘Come on, sweetheart, wake up – I need you again.’ But I felt so drowsy, and did not want to wake up as I muttered, ‘What time is it, Ben?’
With a laugh he replied, ‘Time you were opening your legs again, lass.’ But I lay still; I did not want to bother now. ‘Come on, lass, come on.’ Slowly I made room for him. ‘You’ll have to hold me properly, Helena – I’m near sliding out – you’re that slippery down below.’ He chuckled, ‘I dunno what you been doing in there.’ I thought resentfully, it’s what you’ve been doing Ben Holden, and he added, as if he had heard my thoughts, ‘Course, I have been presenting me compliments to you pretty regular tonight – and I suppose with you being so narrow round the hips you’re not able to accommodate as much as most women.’ He continued to pound up and down on my narrow, inadequate hips until he suddenly pushed hard and grunted and began to force even more of his seed into me. As he pressed against me I felt quite sore, and it was a relief when he finally came out. His hand fumbled for my nightdress. ‘I’ll pull this down under you, lass – sheets are all damp, they’ll be stained in morning, I shouldn’t wonder. Still, you’ll be washing them on Monday, so it won’t matter.’ As he fell asleep his last remark suddenly struck me – he was expecting me to do the household washing on Monday, just like all the other wives in Royd Street – and I had not the faintest idea how to go about it. I remembered the smell of soap and steam in the laundry at Hatton, the sweet scent of freshly-washed clothes being ironed, and the bustling laundrymaids who had never been too busy to spare a smile and a word to us as children when we had peeped in on our way back from the stables. I felt a sudden pang of homesickness, and wondered however I would cope. Then I finally faced up to the fact that I needed to make the long trek to the backyard again and begun to edge myself out of bed.
I woke to the ringing of church bells. The man beside me stirred and stretched his brawny arms. ‘I’ll pop down and make a nice cup of tea, and bring it up to you, lass.’ He heaved himself out and padded off barefoot, the tails of his nightshirt flapping. I lay in bed waiting – I needed to visit the closet again, but I did not like to go while he was in the kitchen – and it was comfortable in bed on my own.
He came back quite quickly, but he had two cups and saucers on a tray, and as soon as he had put them down he climbed back into bed beside me. He pressed his large body against mine as he leant across for his cup, and I stiffened uneasily; then he lay back against the pillows, watching me intently. I lingered over the last dregs in my cup, but had to put it down at last, and he reached out for me at once. As he held me to him, stroking my belly, I knew I should tell him that I needed to go downstairs first, but I was embarrassed and then suddenly it was too late – in one quick movement he had entered me. The force of his thrusts on my full bladder were very uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could do now except put up with them.
When he had finished he rolled off me and slid down under the bedclothes; I began to move towards the side. ‘That’s right, lass, you go down and fry me a couple of eggs for me breakfast – I like a nice soft yolk. I feel right comfortable now I’ve eased meself again – reckon I’ll snooze for a few minutes. You give me a shout when they’re ready.’ He closed his eyes.
But I was anything but comfortable as I sat over the bowl – and as soon as I got back into the kitchen I felt as if I needed to go out to the closet yet again. My hands were clumsy, tapping the first egg with the knife over the frying pan, and the yolk broke – I would have to eat that one myself. I managed to get two more in safely but as soon as their whites were set I felt I just had to run out to the closet – though when I got there I could barely squeeze anything out – and back in the kitchen I found the yolks were already solid.
I called up the stairs to him and began to butter some bread. When he appeared he was in his shirtsleeves and braces, with the dark shadow of his overnight bristles clearly visible on his chin; he sat straight down at the table. ‘Smells good.’ I watched him raise his knife and bring it down with a quick slice on the yolk of his first egg, and saw his face fall. ‘Yolk’s hard, Helena.’
‘I’m sorry, Ben.’ I toyed with my own battered egg. He sighed and began to cut his eggs into squares and put them between two slices of bread to make a sandwich. When he had swallowed his last mouthful he said, ‘Emmie Greenhalgh always used to cook me Sunday breakfast at Clegg Street – she’s got a real knack with a yolk, has Emmie – lovely and soft every time.’ I put down my knife and fork and pushed my plate away. ‘Don’t you want that, Helena?’
‘No thank you, Ben – I’ve had enough.’
‘Pass it over here, lass, and I’ll finish it for you.’
‘I thought you didn’t like hard yolks.’
He grinned. ‘That’s a lesson I learnt in war – you can’t afford to be too fussy, you got to make use of what’s available.’
As I stood up and went to fill the kettle I felt the soreness between my legs and thought bitterly, yes, and I am available – and he is certainly making use of me – even though my hips were too narrow and my womb too small to accommodate all his seed, and I could not cook.
When I came back he swung round in his chair. ‘Come here, lass.’ I went to him slowly and he pulled me down on his lap and began to kiss me. His bristles scratched my cheek, but his lips were warm and coaxing and after a little while I felt my bitterness ebb away and I began to respond. Then I felt his hand come down on my knee and lift my skirts; he did not waste time stroking my leg, it was obvious where he was aiming for and the blunt directness of it sickened me and I tore myself from his grasp. ‘Ben – how dare you – at the breakfast table!’ I was shaking with anger.
He said defensively, ‘Don’t be so hoighty-toighty, Helena – with them lace curtains at window nobody can see owt – besides, I were only having a feel.’ When I did not reply he shrugged and pushed his cup towards me. ‘Give us a refill then – we mun be leaving for Ivy’s shortly, and I’ve still got to have a shave.’
At the last minute I darted back to the closet; as I came back he was standing at the front door with his watch in his hand. ‘Come on, Helena – or we’ll miss train.’ As I came up to him he put Eddie’s gold watch back into his waistcoat pocket, and my legs began to tremble. He seized my hand and rushed me out.
By the time we were on the train to Blackburn my bladder had filled once more and it was difficult to sit still. I rushed to the cloakroom as soon as we arrived and because I had to wait, we missed the connecting tram. Ben was tight-lipped as we stood at the stop waiting for the next one. I was already uncomfortable again – and I felt miserably apprehensive.
A grey-haired woman in her fifties opened the front door as we walked up the short path; her eyes were scanning me closely. Ben kissed her cheek then pulled me forward, ‘Here she is, Ivy, Here’s Helena.’ We shook hands warily. ‘And this is Fanny, me eldest niece.’ The fair-haired woman behind Ivy smiled shyly, then there was the thunder of boots and three tousled heads broke out of the front room: ‘Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben!’ Ben laughed and tossed the smaller boy high up in the air and he shrieked with glee as his brother demanded, ‘Did you like our rug, Uncle Ben? We picked colours – I did blue stripes and Edie did red.’
‘It were champion, young Benjamin - you both must’a’ worked real hard – and your new auntie thought it were right beautiful, didn’t you, lass?’
I moved from one foot to the other and managed to smile at the beaming faces. ‘Yes, yes – it was a lovely surprise – thank you so much.’
The children’s jaws dropped a little, and the youngest boy’s voice was piercing as he tugged at Ben’s hand, ‘Uncle Ben – lady talks right funny.’ There was total silence for a moment, then everyone spoke at once. It was Ivy who overbore the others: ‘What am I thinking of, lass – keeping you in hallway like this – come upstairs and leave your hat.’ I opened my mouth to refuse – one always lunched in one’s hat as a visitor, what an odd thing to suggest – then thought better of it; it would give me a chance to ask Ivy the whereabouts of her water closet. Upstairs I sensed Ivy’s eyes watching me as I patted and pushed my hair tidy, but she only spoke of the weather. The house was a terrace, but larger than Royds Street, with a wide staircase and full landing, and I looked anxiously about me. Ivy said quickly, ‘End door’s the bathroom,’ and I rushed towards it. Yet when I sat on the mahogany seat I could scarcely squeeze out a few drops - and it was no longer soreness I was experiencing, it was pain.
Fanny took the protesting children back up the street to their own lunch. ‘Uncle Ben’ll still be here after dinner – but I’ll not let you come back unless you behave yourselves now.’ Silence fell and the three of them headed for the door while Ben’s jovial brother-in-law ushered us into the dining room.
There were no serving dishes on the table – instead the plates arrived already heaped high with food; I looked helplessly down at mine. I was not even hungry and there was so much – but I would have to force it down somehow. I was still struggling when everyone else had finished, and my cheeks began to burn as I chewed desperately – then Ben leant across and speared one of my roast potatoes and put it on his plate. ‘For shame, Ben – stealing the poor girl’s dinner!’
Ben winked at his sister. ‘I never could resist your taters, Ivy – you know that.’ As soon as Ivy went out to the kitchen to stir the custard he took the other one; and I managed to swallow the rest of the cabbage myself.
The tea pot came out after lunch. Ivy’s Joe glanced at me, then said, ‘Perhaps Helena don’t drink tea at midday, Ivy.’ Two pairs of eyes swivelled in my direction, then Ben said casually, ‘Course she does – she was a nurse, remember? And nurses drink tea any time of day and night.’ He smiled at me and I managed to smile back. My bladder was pressing again, and I felt so damp that I was afraid there would be a mark left on the back of my dress when I had to get up. The man who had filled my womb until it overflowed went on stolidly sipping his tea.
Ben had to nod at me twice when Ivy said she must be off to do the washing up, then I jumped up so quickly I almost upset my tea over the tablecloth. ‘Oh, please do let me help – after you’ve cooked such a lovely meal.’
She made the conventional disclaimers, but I sensed she was pleased and she thawed slightly in the scullery, confiding over the soap suds, ‘Ada and I have been thinking it were high time Ben got wed – we did wonder about young Emmie Greenhalgh, but when Ben came over and told us, he said as how he’d had his eye on you ever since you nursed him in war.’ I was grateful for Ben’s tactful lie as I smiled nervously at Ivy and reached for another plate. The front door opened with the sound of children’s high voices, then banged shut again and there was silence. Ivy gestured towards the passageway. ‘That’ll be Ben going out with the childer – he always takes them out for a walk when he comes over – he’s got more patience with them than Fanny’s Bob has.’ She turned and looked straight at me. ‘Ben’s looking forward so much to having a family of his own, he were talking about it only last week, just before the wedding. And I can tell you, lass, you couldn’t’a’ picked a better father for your babbies.’ The small scullery had become very close and hot; I felt trapped there with Ben’s sister as she talked of his future – the future she expected me to give him. Then she added, ‘He were always good with youngsters before he joined up – but I reckon it were war as made him so set on idea of having his own – it’s only natural with so many of his friends not coming back.’ I turned my flushed face to the dresser but Ivy came up behind me, and gently touched my shoulder. ‘We were real sorry to hear about your brother, lass – it don’t seem fair for it to happen later like that – when you thought he’d come back safe.’ My throat tightened as I fought to control my breathing – I knew I should answer, but I could not. Her plump arm came round my shaking shoulders. ‘Lass, I’m sorry I spoke; you come with me now and we’ll have a nice sit-down and a chat in kitchen before rest of them get back.’
We sat in the stuffy kitchen and she talked about Ben – but my tired brain seemed unable to comprehend her words; I nodded and smiled mechanically and she appeared to be satisfied. After refilling my cup she went to the mantelshelf and picked up a photograph; as she held it out to me it took me a moment to realize it was of Ben – in his sergeant-major’s uniform. He was standing very straight, facing the camera, with his left arm bent at the elbow and resting on his hip so that the three stripes and the crown of his rank showed clearly – and equally clear above the peak of his hat was the emblem of the Lancashire and Cheshire Light Infantry – the emblem my brothers had worn. ‘It’s a good likeness, isn’t it, lass? It’s me favourite picture of Ben – Ada and me asked him to have it taken, and he did, just to please us. We wanted to have it by in case… But he came back, and now he’s wed so I reckoned as how you’d like to have it.’ Somehow I uttered the necessary words of thanks as I took it from her.
Ben came back with the children and we all sat down to a lavish high tea of ham and pork pie and bread and butter, with a feather-light sponge and rich dark fruit cake and spicy fruit buns washed down with strong tea and rounded off with a sherry trifle. Ben ate his way steadily through everything Ivy offered to him, then sat back with a deep sigh of satisfaction and let his belt out a couple of notches. Joe laughed. ‘Reckon you’ve eaten enough for the week there, Ben lad.’
Ben grinned back. ‘Reckon I need to, Joe – my lass’s cooking is still in what you might call the rudimentary stage.’ He turned and winked at me; my face froze.
As we walked down the street to the tram stop he took my arm and said, ‘I hope you didn’t mind me having a little joke with Joe, lass – about your cooking, I mean.’
I said coldly, ‘How could I object, Ben? Since you only spoke the truth.’
‘Ah – well.’ He sounded uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps it would have been better…’ His voice trailed away, and we walked on in silence. There was no one else at the tram shelter and he suddenly pulled me round. ‘Look, lass – you don’t need to take offence – truth is, when you keep me warm and satisfied like you have been these past few nights I wouldn’t care if you served me army biscuits and bully beef every day. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’
He was waiting for my reply, so at last I answered. ‘No Ben, you can’t say fairer than that.’
‘So you just keep giving me a good time like you have been doing, and I’ll not say a word against your cooking. Is that a bargain?’
‘Yes Ben, that’s a bargain.’
He leant forward to kiss me and the soreness between my legs flared up; but I forced myself to ignore it – I had made a bargain on the moors, and I would keep it.
At our front door Ben said, ‘You go in, lass, and I’ll run up to plot now. I’m due at shed at half-three tomorrow so we’ll have to get to bed early. Fill me snap tin for me and then go upstairs.’
‘Ben, I…’
He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a greaseproof paper parcel. ‘And Ivy sent this – she said she found herself with too much roast beef, and she’d take it kindly if you could use it up for her. So that’s all right, then.’ He smiled at me, and I knew he knew I had forgotten all about his bait, but was pretending not, to save my face.
‘Thank you, Ben – that’s very kind… of Ivy.’ He closed the door on me and I turned and ran out to the back. As I tried unavailingly to force out a few burning drops I suddenly realized I was still clutching the roast beef in one hand. I started to smile, and then the pain caught me as I stood up and the smile turned to a grimace – my discomfort was permanent now.
I was already in bed when I heard him coming back, talking to someone. A man’s voice answered, and they laughed together, then Ben called out a ‘Sithee, Wally’ and I heard him go through to the scullery. It was not even dark yet in the small bedroom – the summer evening light filtered through the drawn curtains – and I watched him undress below my lashes and saw he was already fully erect. I braced myself as he climbed into the bed and pulled me towards him, his hands already at work on my nightdress. ‘Lass – you looked lovely today – I could hardly keep my hands off you. Come on now, and I’ll show you me appreciation.’
It was an effort not to flinch back as he drove into me, but I managed to stay still – and luckily he did not take long, and I began to relax as I felt his manhood subside inside me; he would slip out more easily than he had gone in. But he did not slip out; instead, he put his mouth over mine and began to push his tongue against my lips, and with a sinking heart I realized what he was doing, and opened my mouth to him so that he would get it over with. His hips began to move as soon as he was fully swollen and I held grimly on to his buttocks as he began to press into me again – my bladder had filled and the pressure on it increased my discomfort, so that I almost cried with relief when he began to throb and I knew I would not have to endure much longer.
When he finally came out he pulled me close and nuzzled my neck. ‘I enjoyed that, lass.’ He settled himself more comfortably against me – he was emptied and at ease now, and he wanted to talk. ‘You know, first time I come up again like that inside a woman I couldn’t believe what were happening. I were that surprised I tried to pull out! But she knew better. She were a farmer’s wife – her husband had been killed early on in war, she managed farm herself, very capable woman she were – but when she had British troops billeted in her barn she’d look ’em over like – see which one she fancied and I were lucky one that time – and by chance we were sent back to that village again and your brother, he said, “I’ll put you back with Madame Dupont, if you want, Sergeant Holden,” giving me a wink and a nod like – there weren’t much got past him – though he were only a youngster. And we’d been up in front line and then in support for weeks, and I’d not seen sight nor sign of a woman, so you can imagine state I were in when Maree meets me at doorway. “Vennez issi, Benjameen,” she says – and I didn’t half vennez, I can tell you.’ He chuckled, and moved his head so it pressed against my breast. ‘And that were first time I did a double in the once, if you see what I mean. That Maree she knew a thing or two – but I’d best not talk about that to you, lass – what I were going to say were that with other women I’d only come up inside when I’d been without for a good while, and was full up with it but with you, I can’t seem to stop meself. I only had you this morning, and state I were in by dinnertime!’ He kissed my bare arm, his lips very soft, before continuing. ‘You get me that excited, Helena – when you sat down to table at Ivy’s you just happened to flick your skirt up and I saw a bit of your lace frills.’ He shivered. ‘Christ, I could have thrown you on floor there and then.’ He began to laugh. ‘I’d’a’ liked to have seen Ivy’s face if I had!’ And the vibration of his heavy body as he laughed brought the pressure in my bladder to a point almost past bearing.
I whispered desperately, ‘Ben – I’m rather tired.’
‘All right, lass, I’ll stop nattering and let you get some sleep. Goodnight.’ He moved up and kissed my cheek and then turned over. As I waited for him to fall asleep I felt a little tremor of pride that I could arouse him to a pitch beyond that of other women – beyond fat ugly Maree ‘who knew a thing or two’. Then I wondered how many other women he had had, pushing into them with his strong hips rising and falling as he told them: ‘That’s lovely Maree – Jeanette – Louise… and I felt sick. But he was asleep at last, so I could get out and go downstairs to try to quell my insistent bladder.
Twice more I woke and had to go down, but was very cautious and managed not to wake him; the third time I stumbled against the bed and his hands were pulling up my nightdress even as I was getting in – and as soon as I was under the covers he clambered on top of me. He did not bother to ask me now – he only grunted as he used me – while I lay beneath him with gritted teeth. But when he had finished he said, ‘You’re running out back a lot – have you caught a chill?’
I muttered, ‘I think I must be drinking too much tea, Ben.’
‘Aye, happen.’ He snorted and fell asleep.
I was dozing when there was a rat-tat-tat at the door and a voice calling out. I jerked up in bed. ‘It’s all right, lass – it’s only lad sent from shed to knock me up – it’s always done for a shift afore six - you’ll get used to it.’ He scrambled over me to get at the window, and shouted down; then he jumped quickly back into bed. ‘Now, come on, lass – I haven’t got much time, and I want to say goodbye properly.’
I felt his weight come over on to me, and now as he pushed in he hurt so much I had to clench my teeth to avoid crying out loud. He was still thrusting vigorously when the church clock struck three; he paused in mid stroke to listen. ‘Christ, ruddy knocker-up were late! I’ll have to get a move on.’ The speed of his thrusts intensified until my whole belly seemed to be on fire, then he gave a last grunt and fell forward. But he began to pull out almost at once, while still throbbing, so he hung panting over my belly for a moment as his hips jerked to expel the final spurts – then he was off the bed and scrambling frantically for his clothes. He threw himself out of the door without a single glance in my direction, and I heard the clatter of his boots receding over the cobbles as he ran down the street. He had not even said goodbye.
I lay on the bed with my nightdress pushed up above my waist and my legs sprawled apart, and as the last careless smear of his seed dried stickily on my belly I remembered Guy’s words on the sand dunes at Étaples: ‘and let me use her like a whore’. And now I knew exactly how Pansy must have felt, because my husband too had used me as casually and thoughtlessly as he would do a whore. Except that a whore would not also have to scrub his floors and black lead his grate and cook his meals – and even, perhaps, bear his children. I shuddered as I lay there with the tears running slowly down my cheeks and his seed seeping messily out of my womb. But eventually I had to get up – my bladder insisted.
I did not go back to bed again; I sat huddled painfully over the cold range and accepted that it was my fault – he had had to marry me because I had behaved like a whore on the open moors; I could hardly blame him for using me as one now. Then I pulled myself slowly up and went into the scullery; it was Monday, wash day.