I tried to light the copper, but the fire only smouldered, and then went out. So I fetched buckets of water from the range and poured them into the bath and pushed his shirts and underpants into it. I knelt on the floor and leant over the hard iron rim and tried to wash them; but the union shirt he had worn for work was grimy with coal dust and stained with his sweat and I had to scrub and scrub before the dark marks at collar and cuff were shifted. And the bending over intensified the discomfort in my belly – he had emptied himself so fully into me that now my womb felt bruised and swollen; and every few minutes I had to haul myself painfully up and go outside in the rain to the closet – although I had drunk nothing all morning.
I could not face refilling the bath so I put his white shirts in with the others and watched despairingly as they turned grey from the filthy water. I forced all the garments through the mangle, but because of the rain I had to let down the drying rack from the kitchen ceiling and hang them over the rails, and as I pulled on the rope to raise it again pain pierced my belly and I panicked at the thought of the night ahead. But then I remembered all the times in the war when I had had to drive my tired body on in pain and discomfort; and knew I would survive – I was not a young silly girl any more, dreaming innocently of her handsome cavalry officer – and at least my dream had come true for a brief idyllic time; I would cling to that memory. And I went through into the parlour and picked up Gerald’s photograph and raised it to my lips – Gerald whose hands had been so gentle on my body, whose kisses had been soft and reverent for my innocence. But the war had hardened me, had torn aside that innocence – and so I had taken into my body a very different man, and let him use me casually and without love – and tonight I would have to pay the price. I kissed the pictured face again, then reluctantly put it back and went through into the kitchen.
But thinking of Gerald seemed to have cleared my wits and now I remembered who I really was – I did not have to soak my hands until they wrinkled, or bend my back in aching toil. I stood looking at the pile of grubby towels and stained sheets and that filthy, crumpled overall, and thought: you fool, Helena – there will be laundries in Ainsclough for those who have money to pay for their services – and I had the money, thank God. But I would have to be cleverer than I had been with the gas stove – and conceal what I was doing; but that should not be difficult, as he worked long hours every day and expected me to deal with the woman’s work. I bundled up all the dirty washing and took it upstairs and hid it in the back bedroom – I would arrange for the van to call tomorrow; in the meantime my dowry would supply all the clean linen that was needed. I found my umbrella and basket and set out for the town to do my daily shopping.
But before I reached the main street I had to turn aside to visit the building under the small green dome. I had to go back there again as soon as I had interviewed a suitable laundry, and then I headed for the butcher’s. I had barely received my loaded basket back from the greengrocer when I knew I could not hold out any longer – and I almost ran down the street in my haste to find sanctuary. Yet when I got inside only a few drops came burning out.
As I came out of the cubicle for the third time the attendant was standing in the doorway. She turned and waddled towards me, her heavy breasts shaking under her flowered overall. ‘Now you come along with me for a nice drink of tea.’ When I tried to protest she simply seized me by the elbow and steered me into her lair. ‘Sit down, lass – it won’t take a minute – soon as I saw you come in for third time I put kettle on gas ring.’
I sank down on to the chair, wondering wildly if there was some obscure Ainsclough ritual – three visits to the convenience and you were entitled to a cup of tea. I said weakly, ‘It’s very kind of you – but I’m trying not to drink anything today.’
She sat down heavily opposite me. ‘And that’s your first mistake, lass – and your second is not sorting out that husband of yourn.’
I stared at her, before finally whispering, ‘I – I think I’ve caught a chill.’
She laughed and laughed until all her chins wobbled, then leant forward and said, ‘Th’ only chill you’ve caught, my girl, is from Ben Holden pushing your nightie up too often.’ I felt my face crimson. ‘Oh, I’ve seen it all before, lass – they’re all the same, men! When they first get wed they’re like children with a new toy – they can’t stop playing with it.’ She heaved her bulk upright and began to attend to the tea pot. ‘I’ll make it nice and weak – that’s thing for you at moment. Nah – men! My Henry was just the same – I were already carrying our Gladys when we got wed, but that didn’t stop him. So at th’end of first week I put on me shawl and went straight back to sleep with me mam. He came round, whining, but she soon sent him packing – went down there every night for a fortnight I did, till he were ready to see sense.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Here, where does your mam live?’ I thought of my mother’s face were I to suddenly arrive back demanding to sleep with her to escape Ben’s over-enthusiastic attentions – and for a moment I wanted to laugh; then the desire evaporated, and I simply shook my head. ‘Oh well, then you’ll just have to speak to him yourself, lass – tell him to tie a knot in it for a few days till you’re right again. Now, drink this up – it’ll ease you.’
I gulped down the weak tea gratefully – I was very thirsty by now. But I knew I would never dare to ‘speak to’ Ben. My hostess pursed her lips, ‘By way, lass – have you got blood in your water?’
‘No – no, I don’t think so.’
‘You’ll soon be all right then – looks as if we caught it in time. It can get right nasty once a lass is passing blood. Now on the way home you pop into Sammy Whittle’s and fetch some barley – cook a nice big jug of barley water and keep drinking it down – your waterworks is like these closets here’ – she waved an expansive arm – ‘it needs plenty of flushing to keep it sweet.’
I stood up. ‘Thank you, Mrs Fairbarn – you’ve been very kind. But I must go now – my husband will be home soon and I have to cook his lunch. Thank you again.’
She smiled. ‘You’re welcome, lass. I get a lot of brides in here, you know – with same trouble – you’re not th’only one, not by a long chalk. In fact,’ – her small eyes twinkled – ‘soon as I hear there’s a wedding, I has a little bet with meself: “What price that lass’ll be running in and out in a day or two, Edna me girl?” I’m not often wrong. When I heard Ben Holden were getting wed I knew I’d be seeing his missus in here – you can tell by look in their eye.’ Her fat elbow nudged my ribs. ‘Tell you truth, I were expecting you earlier!’ Her chins wobbled again as she laughed. I had given up blushing by now. She lumbered out of the doorway of her cubbyhole. ‘Now you be sure to give him a good ticking off soon as he walks in – he’ll argue a bit but he’ll behave hisself in end – he’s been spoilt, has Ben, but he’s not a bad lad at heart. You be sure and sort him out, now.’ I shook my head. ‘I’m grateful for your advice, Mrs Fairbarn, but I really couldn’t…’
‘Don’t be mardy, lass – if you lets ’em get away with owt now you’ll never be boss in your own home.’
I dropped my eyes, then promised, ‘I’ll be sure to make the barley water – and now - I’ll just…’ I began to fumble in my purse.
She swept forward, brandishing her brass key. ‘No lass – this one’s on me.’ As soon as she had the door open I ran into the small cubicle.
When I called in at the corner shop for the barley, on an impulse I bought some flour and lard as well – I had noticed a recipe for a pie in Letty’s book – I would follow it and cook him a pleasant lunch. I felt much calmer in my mind now after listening to Edna Fairbarn – I was still very sore and uncomfortable but now I knew that there was nothing seriously wrong with me: I could cope with it. I smiled a little at her choice of words as I walked up Royds Street. It was no use blaming Ben for my state – he was a man, so of course he would use me as often as he wanted. And I was his wife, so I would just have to put up with it.
The pastry would not stick together at first, but I managed to line the enamel pie dish eventually, and the gravy smelt good as I tipped the beef and onion mixture into it. I carefully draped the rest of my pastry over it and sat down in the rocker, waiting for Ben to come in – I wanted to watch the expression on his face when he sniffed the appetizing aroma.
I heard his boots thundering through the front, then the kitchen door was slammed back and his presence seemed to fill the small room. ‘How could you, Helena, how could you?’ He was bellowing and his face was contorted with rage. ‘Complaining about me – tittle-tattling the secrets of our marriage bed – to Edna Fairbarn of all people.’ His voice seemed to bounce against the walls and I shrank back into my chair. ‘Edna Fairbarn, who’s got a tongue as long as me arm! I were walking up street, after a hard shift’s work to earn money to keep you’ – he glared at me – ‘and Edna Fairbarn comes creeping out, like a fat white slug from under her lettuce leaf, and says, as loud as you like: “You want to lay off your little missus, Ben Holden – you’re making her ill keep jumping on her all night like that.” Christ, the whole street could hear her.’ His face was scarlet with fury.
In desperation I pointed to the stove. ‘I’ve made your lunch, Ben.’
‘I don’t want no bloody lunch!’ He exploded again: ‘You can throw it in back of fire for all I care.’ He took a deep angry breath and came a step nearer – I flinched away from him; then suddenly he swung round and headed for the door. As he put his hand on the latch he threw over his shoulder. ‘I’m sick of bloody women – I’m going to pub.’
The slamming of the front door brought the weak tears of relief to my eyes. But then I saw his belt, hanging behind the kitchen door – and remembered how he had threatened me in the dog cart at Hatton. I had not gone with another man, but he had been wild with rage – if he was still angry when he came back, what might he do? And I remembered the dozen dead Germans and felt sick with fear.
The pie was obviously burning; but there seemed no point in rescuing it now. I crouched in the chair with the tears trickling down my face, too frightened to move.
Then I heard the front door slam again – he had come back – he had been gone only ten minutes, and already he was back – I was very scared. As I heard him push open the door I closed my eyes and cowered into my chair with my hands raised to ward off the blows.
‘Oh God – Helena, Helena – I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ I crouched on in my chair; I heard him approaching but I still could not look at him. ‘Helena, please.’ His voice was muffled, and slowly I opened my eyes, and saw him kneeling beside my chair with his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. At last I reached out to him, uncertainly, and touched his wrist; at once he caught hold of my hand and pressed it against his cheek – it was damp, and with a shock I realized that he was crying. He raised a tormented face to mine. ‘Helena, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I never touched me pint – just as I were picking it up I thought: she’d never have done that, and even if she did, well, it were my fault for pestering her too much. I knew this morning you didn’t want it, but I couldn’t help meself, lying there beside you – but I won’t do it again, I promise. From now on I won’t lay a finger on you unless you’re willing.’
I explained, hesitantly, ‘I didn’t tell her, Ben – she guessed, because I had to keep going in there.’
He asked urgently, ‘Look, lass – is there blood in it?’ His face was anxious.
I felt a spurt of anger against the fat woman. ‘No, Ben – and she knew that, she’d already asked me – she shouldn’t have told you that.’
He sighed. ‘She didn’t say it were so, exactly – I think she were trying to frighten me. But at first I were so angry – then when I came back and saw you with your hands up like that, as if you were expecting me to hit you…’ The hand holding mine tightened.
I felt so tired, ‘It’s all right, Ben – I understand.’
He stood up very slowly, still holding my hand. ‘I’ve got a bit of a temper, and I fly off the handle sometimes – but I’d never hurt you, lass, never.’ Then he sniffed the air. ‘And you made a nice dinner for me too when you weren’t feeling so good…’
I climbed stiffly out of my chair. ‘I’m not ill, Ben – it’s just that I need to…’ I pulled away my hand and edged towards the scullery door – and then ran out into the yard.
When I got back he was chipping the burnt bits off my pie. ‘It’ll be all right lass, it weren’t too far gone. You sit down and I’ll see to the veg.’
He praised my pie extravagantly, though the gravy had almost dried up. I had to leave the table twice during the meal to visit the closet – I had drunk warm water and it was a little less painful, but the angry scene with Ben seemed to have lessened my control and I was terrified of wetting my drawers whenever I stood up. His eyes watched me anxiously each time I came in from the back and I had difficulty keeping back the tears of weakness. As soon as I had finished my cup of tea he ordered, ‘You go upstairs and have a nice rest on your own – I won’t disturb you.’ Wearily I headed for the backyard again.
As I was pulling myself upstairs he came behind me and called, ‘Another thing – you’ve got to start using chamber in bedroom – you can’t keep running up and down stairs the way you are now.’ I knew he was right, but I could not reply.
I did sleep at last, I was so tired. On awakening I crept down the stairs and peered into the kitchen – it was empty so I hurried back to fetch the chamber and empty it; there was no sign of blood in it. When I came down again he was stretching in the parlour doorway. ‘I’ve had a bit of a nap meself, seeing as I were on so early.’ He followed me into the kitchen and asked, diffidently, ‘How are you, lass?’
I whispered, ‘Better,’ and set off for the closet again. Walking back down the yard I saw his dark shape behind the net curtains in the kitchen window, watching me. But he was sitting down with the paper by the time I had washed my hands. I stood, uncertain, by the table. ‘Lass’ – he kept his eyes on the newspaper – ‘I just noticed – you’re walking a bit – difficult.’ He raised his head and looked at me. ‘Did I hurt you, as well?’
‘I – I –’ I did not know how to reply, but at last managed to get out, ‘I’m just a bit sore, Ben.’
‘So I did.’ His voice was flat.
‘Only last night – and –’ I saw from his face I had made it worse.
He said softly, ‘Christ – and I took you four times last night alone. You should have told me, Helena.’
I whispered, ‘You’re my husband, Ben.’
‘That don’t give me right to behave like an animal.’ Then he went on, his voice awkward, ‘I’m wondering now if I’m, well, too big for you down there. When I’m… that is… you’re so tight. All the women I been with before, they never had trouble like you’re ’aving – but they were wider round th’ips than you are, so happen they were built different inside, as well.’
He sat waiting for me to answer. At last I muttered, ‘I – remember, I’m not – not very used to being with a man yet.’ I finished in a rush.
I heard his sigh of relief. ‘Aye, that’s true. Me other women, they weren’t whores – I kept meself clean like – but, well, they’d done it regular – so I suppose that’s why they were more accommodating.’
He picked up his paper and I dragged my useless, unaccommodating body up the stairs and began to put on the clean sheets. I cried while making the bed up, then I stopped – what was the point? His gold band tightened round my finger: ‘for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health…’
He went for some cheese while I cut the bread and butter and made the tea. Afterwards I did the washing up while he went up to the plot, then we both sat in the front parlour in silence. He read steadily and I listlessly turned over the pages of Letty’s book.
He sent me up to bed early and it was longer than usual before he followed me. I was still awake when his heavy body climbed in beside me – but he kept well over on his side. I lay thinking of those generous-hipped women who were ‘happen built different inside’ and felt miserably guilty. ‘I’m sorry, Ben.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t fret, lass – I’ve seen to meself already downstairs. But if I cuddle up to you like, then I’ll come up again, so it’s best I keep to me own side. Goodnight, Helena.’
‘Goodnight, Ben.’ I knew I would not sleep until I had tried to satisfy my bladder again so I began to edge my way out. When I got to the door he suddenly called out, ‘Where are you going, lass?’
‘Just to the closet.’
He moved very quickly; before I had stepped off the landing my arm was held tight. ‘Look, my lass, you mun use chamber.’
‘I can’t Ben – not with you here.’
He said heavily, ‘Lass, I’m your husband – if I hadn’t been behaving like one you wouldn’t be in this state now.’
I could not argue with his logic, but I could not use the chamber in his presence either. We stood there until I began to shift uneasily from foot to foot – then he let me break away.
When I came back he had the gas lit. ‘Helena, I’ve put the chamber in the other room – if you won’t use it in here than you mun do it in there – do you understand me?’ I nodded. ‘Lass, I don’t want no insubordination, I want a promise.’
‘I promise.’
‘Good – now mebbe we can both get some sleep – I’ve got to be up afore three.’
But while I was sleeping I must have turned towards him, for I woke to feel his strong hands pushing me away. I was confused. ‘Ben?’
‘Christ, lass – ’aven’t you got more sense than to wrap yourself round me like that? It were difficult enough first few days we were wed – but at least I’d not got th’abit o’ you – now when I’ve been used to having me fill of you…’
He was panting heavily. I crouched away from him, then whispered, ‘Perhaps, just once…’
He reared up in the bed. ‘It wouldn’t be bloody once, you stupid lass!’ Then he subsided a little. ‘Besides, how could I do it, knowing every push were hurting you? I’m not so hard, Helena – I’d hate meself afterwards.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll have to go downstairs again and sort meself out.’
I lay on my own, consumed with guilt. He came back quite quickly, and got back into bed; he was calmer now. ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you, lass – only a woman don’t understand how it is for a man.’ He put out his hand and squeezed mine briefly. ‘Go to sleep now, and stop fretting.’
I dozed fitfully – I was frightened of touching his body and arousing him again, and he was restless too. We were both already awake when the knocker-up came banging on the door. Ben shouted ‘A’reet’ through the window, then groaned. ‘At least he’s in good time this morning – I had a few sharp words to say to young Tommy Bradshaw yesterday, catching me on th’op like that without even time for a goodbye kiss. Come here, lass, let’s have a quick cuddle afore I leave you.’ As he pulled me towards him I slipped my arms round his neck and he stroked my back and nuzzled my cheek. Then he raised his face to mine and whispered, ‘Let’s have a proper kiss, Helena – that’ll not harm you.’ So I opened my mouth to his and his tongue came in and licked mine – and he pulled me closer to him and suddenly he was groaning and panting and pushing his hard swollen maleness against my belly. I stiffened and he pulled away and threw himself back and jumped off the bed. ‘Bloody hell! That were a mistake – I’d best wave from door in future.’ He tugged on his clothes and flung himself out. ‘Sithee, lass.’
As I heard his boots clattering down the street, I lay trembling in the bed where he had left me: I had been so naïvely proud of the power I had to arouse him, but now that I was no longer able to satisfy his needs I was frightened by the very strength of them. My mind began to picture him taking those other women with their full, womanly bodies who ‘never had no trouble’ – and I began to cry. Then I remembered that at least I was free of him for his eight-hour shift, so I used the chamber again, went back to bed and fell gratefully asleep in its emptiness.
I got up with the mill hooters and dragged myself through my housework, but the small house oppressed me today – it was no longer a doll’s house to be played in – its demands weighed me down. And although he was out at work there were signs of him everywhere: his best boots under the draining board in the scullery; his weekday jacket hanging behind the kitchen door; his paper thrown carelessly down beside his armchair in the parlour. And I had to cope with the wearisome routine of shopping and cooking for him.
I was nervous of going down to the town, but by concentrating hard on what I had to do I succeeded in ignoring the demands of my bladder – and realized with relief that they were already becoming less urgent. Edna Fairbarn had been right – I had not caught a chill at all – my symptoms had been entirely due to Ben’s over-use of me.
On my return I opened Letty’s book and began to follow the instructions for making a stew – at least this was one of a wife’s duties which I could try to carry out. I had just finished peeling the potatoes, ready for when he came in, when there was a knock at the door: it was a boy in an over-large cap. He raised it politely and asked, ‘Are you Ben Holden’s missus?’
‘Yes, yes I am.’
‘Then ’e give me tuppence to tell you’e’d be late ’ome today.’ He skidded off down the street.
The stew was almost cooked – I lifted the saucepan and peered in, wondering how late Ben would be – and why was he late? He must have completed his eight-hour shift by now. I turned off the gas and stood hesitating, then found my polishing rags and went through to the parlour – the sideboard and piano were looking rather dull and I wanted to occupy my hands while I waited; I wondered again where he had gone. When the sideboard was shining I moved rather reluctantly across the room – handling the piano made my throat tighten. My voice had been my constant companion all my life – and now it had deserted me; it had grown up with me, just as my brothers had done… I forced my mind to blank out those memories that lurked always in the shadows – threatening to destroy me. My hands worked mechanically, until only the top remained to be done. I began to pick up my photos: Guy and Pansy at their wedding – and I heard again Pansy’s small sad voice as she told me: ‘He may not come in later – he often doesn’t come back at all,’ just as my husband had not come back. The thought lingered in my mind as I picked up the photo of my sisters – with Conan. I remembered my cousin’s voice as he had exclaimed: ‘Christ, Hellie, over the years you’ve cost me a fortune in whores!’ My cousin whom I had also aroused – who had controlled himself with me – and had gone to obtain relief with other women. Ben had had to share a bed with me the whole night through, and my female presence had excited him past bearing – but he had controlled himself – so where was he now? My hand was trembling as I picked up Mother and Papa and Maud – so elegant in their silver frame – Papa was devoted to Maud: but his affection for her had not stopped him in Munich. Whereas Ben Holden, who had felt obliged to marry me, would use me when I was available – but I had not been available to him last night, and he had needed a woman this morning.
I remembered how he had talked of ‘Maree’ – in France, in the war – and obviously there had been other Frenchwomen who had known my husband intimately. But a man like Ben would not have remained celibate since his return – there must be women in Ainsclough he had used, women who would be ready to receive him again when the need arose – and the need had arisen today. Probably he was even now in the next street, casually coupling with one of those women – one with wide hips who could accommodate him easily and give him the satisfaction that I could not – and so he would be late home. I supposed I should be grateful that he had at least sent the boy to warn me – like a considerate husband. I heard Guy’s voice as we had stood looking out over the sand dunes together: ‘So after that I only used the reputable establishments – and thought I was being a considerate husband!’ I was lucky – I too had a considerate husband! I began to laugh, and heard the hysteria in it. I must stop being silly and take a hold of myself – clearly there was no point cooking the vegetables yet because a man like Ben would need to stay with this woman and take her several times so as to make sure he was fully emptied before he came home to spend the night with me. I would have to wait until he had finished. After all, I was a woman of the world, understanding men and their needs – I remembered Letty’s startling blondness in her cradle, and Papa and Maud returning tanned from their trip abroad together. There had been Sir Ernest, creeping stealthily out of my mother’s bedroom – and Papa with a pretty German whore on his arm. Oh yes, I had been lucky, I had learnt early that marriage vows were merely empty mouthings; now the knowledge stood me in good stead – I did not need to be shocked. I shrugged and put the photographs back and went to sit down in the armchair. I picked up yesterday’s newspaper and began to read – and my hands scarcely trembled as I held it.
It was more than four hours later that he came in – still in his work clothes of course – I was glad that he had not bothered to wash for her. He looked quite drained. ‘Hello, lass.’
I replied politely, ‘Good afternoon, Ben.’
‘I’m sorry I’m so late, but I…’
I broke in very quickly, ‘Don’t bother to explain Ben – I quite understand.’ I tried to keep my voice even.
‘Look lass – I know you’re annoyed, but it’s part of me job. Being a passed fireman, see, I get me turn altered when a driver’s needed. I know it’s a bind, but at least I don’t often get lumbered with nights in this link. Any road, today I had to take a special to Blackpool, so I’ve only just got back.’
I said stupidly, ‘You’ve been working – you’ve been working all afternoon?’
He stared at me. ‘Course I have – what else did you think I’d been doing?’
‘I thought you’d been with…’ as my voice trailed away I glanced involuntarily at the photographs of my family, and his eyes followed my gaze, then turned to take in my crimson cheeks.
He stood looking at me, and I knew he had read my mind when he spoke. ‘Christ, Helena – they brought you up right well, didn’t they? You must’a’ learnt a thing or two at your mother’s knee afore I could tell lads from lasses.’ He drew a deep breath and said heavily, ‘I’m so bloody furious with you I can’t trust meself to speak. I’ll go and have me bath.’ I heard him cursing in the kitchen as he realized I had let the range go out.
We ate our meal in silence. When he had finished he put down his knife and fork and said, ‘I told you when we were courting, I told you then that I’d play fair with you, and I meant it. So I don’t want to come in and see that look on your face ever again. I’m going up plot.’ He stood up and reached for his jacket, then turned back to me. ‘And if I say I’m going up plot then that’s where I’m going. And if I call at pub on me way back then that’s where I’ll be, not lifting some tart’s skirts because me own wife can’t give me what I want for time being. And I ’aven’t forgotten that were me own fault.’ Then he added bitterly, ‘I suppose if you’d married your precious “my lord” he’d have been spending hisself wi’ th’ousemaid, and wouldn’t have needed to wear you out.’
I was screaming, ‘Get out! Get out!’ He left, very quickly. I subsided, crying and shaking, into my chair – Gerald, oh Gerald – my love, my only true lover.
It was very late before he came in and climbed heavily into bed beside me, but I was still awake. ‘I didn’t go to pub – I’ve been for a long walk on tops. I reckon, well I reckon we both need to be a bit patient with each other. It’s not easy, getting wed so sudden – and being as far apart as we are. I’m sorry for what I said at t’last, lass – but it did upset me, you thinking I’d go with another woman, when we’d only been wed a week.’
I said at last, ‘Then I apologize too, Ben – I didn’t think you’d mind so much. But – Gerald, Lord Staveley – I loved him and I always will, and I know – I know he would never have been untrue to me. So I don’t want you to speak of him ever again.’
‘All right, lass – I’m sorry.’ He sounded very tired.
I slept right through the night, barely hearing the knocker-up when he came to rouse Ben, and when I woke up I was alone in the bed. The ugly scene with Ben lingered in my mind, but I pushed it from me: he was a working man, his ways were cruder than those I was used to – but I supposed I could put up with them for a while. I got up and dressed and went down to perform my household chores.
That evening he said he would take me out to the pictures; I did not want to go but knowing it was meant as a peace offering I went up for my hat and coat. It was dark and stuffy in the small picture house and I could not keep my eyes open. The banging of the seats at the end roused me, and Ben gently eased my head off his shoulder and took me home.
He made a mug of cocoa and brought it up to me to drink in the bedroom. Then, standing looking down at me, he said, ‘You look right washed out, lass – I think you’d best stay in bed tomorrow, leastways till I come home.’
‘But I can’t, Ben – your lunch…’
‘I’ll go down to pie shop and fetch it – they bake a nice light crust there. Mind you do as I say, now.’
I did as he told me, and when he got home he called up the stairs for me to stay where I was and came up soon after with my lunch on a tray. I ate some of the pie – the pastry was much lighter than mine – then lay down and went straight back to sleep again. Scarcely aware of his coming to bed, I was still asleep when he left on Friday morning.
When I eventually did wake up I felt so much better that I got out Letty’s cookery book and made a fish pie, stewed some rhubarb to follow and stirred the custard as briskly as I could – it was easier than making a linseed poultice – and had everything ready for when he came in.
Ben praised the meal warmly and I felt much happier as I went out to do the washing up. He came out to clean his boots in the scullery and as he passed by he put his arm round me and held me close for a moment. He had scarcely touched me since Tuesday morning and now he felt very warm and strong as I leant back against him. He brushed my hair with his lips before he let me go. And as he began to rub in the blacking – whistling softly to himself as he did so – I realized that I had not visited the closet for hours – and the soreness between my legs had quite vanished.