Ellie (84 page)

‘Mind how you go, there’s two steps up to the porch,’ Bonny called back, her blonde head the only thing visible. ‘I’ll go on ahead and open the door.’

Ellie heard the tinkle of keys. Just as she reached the steps a bright light lit up the porch.

‘So do you like it?’ Bonny said impatiently. They had no sooner got in the front door than Ellie had the coat wrenched off her back and was dragged from room to room downstairs, with Bonny putting on every light and drawing curtains, gabbling non-stop.

‘It’s just wonderful.’ Ellie smiled at her friend’s exuberance, though she would have appreciated a cup of tea first and the chance to take off her corset. ‘Not a bit how I pictured it.’

England was beginning to recover from the war. There was almost full employment at last and the new National Health Service was a great boon to all those people who’d never been able to afford glasses, dentistry or even doctors. But the expected prosperity hadn’t arrived yet. There was still an acute housing shortage, some foods and all sweets were still rationed, and paint, building materials and furniture were difficult to find, whether you were rich or poor. Taking into account Bonny’s tendency to exaggerate, even in letters, Ellie had expected at best a cosy but shabby cottageyness. Yet, if anything, Bonny had played down the graciousness of her new home.

Polished wood abounded on the floors, doors and the staircase which led off the large square hall. Some of the furniture and rugs might be old, but everything had beauty and elegance. It was funny to hear Bonny keep quoting John – ‘John said this Persian rug will last a lifetime … John says if you live in an old house you must have period furniture.’ In the past she hadn’t cared tuppence for men’s views and her penchant had always been flashy thirties styling with lots of chrome and glass.

Yet as well as embracing John’s taste, Bonny had stamped her own personality on the house. A pretty collection of old perfume bottles was grouped on a shelf beneath a dainty gold cherub lamp. She pointed out four delicate water-colours which she’d reframed in rosewood. There was a large vase of Michaelmas daisies on a low table, a huge stone jar filled with dried flowers and grasses in the hall, and cushions in bright jewel colours on the couch.

Only Bonny’s bedroom was entirely true to her character: an extravagant Hollywood dream with its shell-pink carpet, dainty dressing-table with triple mirrors, wall-to-wall wardrobes and a
chaise-longue
strewn with lace pillows.

Ellie felt a stab of envy as Bonny proudly showed her the luxurious
en suite
bathroom, the curtains that opened and closed by the pull of a cord. It wasn’t so much jealousy of the ostentatious splendour as being confronted by this testament of John’s love and his deep understanding of his young wife’s character.

‘You are so lucky,’ Ellie sighed wistfully, stroking the cream satin counterpane. ‘I hope you realise that?’

‘I do now,’ Bonny said, for once not coming back with sarcasm or a flippant retort. ‘John’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

Any bitter thoughts that Bonny was still entirely self-centred vanished as Ellie saw the room her friend had prepared for her. Although it was less lavish than her own, the care and thought put into it was every bit as great. A fire was burning in the grate, the pink curtains were already drawn and the old-fashioned bed was covered with a heavy white counterpane.

It was decorated with rose-sprigged wallpaper, against which hung pretty framed prints. On the dressing-table was a tall vase filled with dried flowers and there were books and a lamp beside the bed, fluffy white towels on a wooden stand, even a small easy chair by the window.

‘Oh Bonny,’ Ellie gasped, wishing she could find the right words to convey that she knew and appreciated the trouble to which Bonny had gone.

‘It was lovely getting it ready for you.’ Bonny blushed prettily, pleased by Ellie’s reaction. ‘I found that counterpane and the lace cloths on the dressing-table up in the attic and I put them in the boiler because they were all yellow with age. The trouble was the counterpane weighed a ton when I tried to get it out. I struggled with it for hours, then eventually I had to wait until the water was cold and get Enoch to help me put it through the mangle.’

‘Who’s Enoch?’ Ellie asked.

‘He’s the gardener, not my lover,’ Bonny grinned wickedly, ‘and the only person you’re likely to see here aside from me. Now let’s put your stuff away and then we’ll have some food.’

‘Can I take this corset off?’ Ellie asked, already pulling off her dress. ‘It’s killing me.’

Bonny stared in horrified fascination as Ellie revealed the tea-rose brocade and whalebone monstrosity. Her mother had had a similar one and she had always thought it looked like an instrument of torture.

‘How long have you been wearing that?’ she asked.

‘For the last six weeks,’ Ellie admitted. ‘It’s been hell changing for the show, I’d have died of embarrassment if anyone saw it. But I couldn’t wear it for one more day, not if my life depended on it,’ she gasped as she unfastened the suspenders attached to her stocking, then unclipped hooks all down her front. ‘Oh, that’s better,’ she sighed as she slipped it off her shoulders.

Bonny had never seen a pregnant woman without clothes before. Although Ellie still wore knickers, they had slipped down below her protruding belly. She hadn’t grown that big yet. With her clothes on she had looked little different to the way she had as a bridesmaid, but seen naked her stomach curved out from beneath her breasts, and it was indented with cruel purple marks from the corset. Her breasts were full and heavy, the aureoles around her nipples a very dark brown.

‘Look what you’ve done to yourself.’ Bonny couldn’t help herself: she layed one hand on Ellie’s stomach and caressed the marks soothingly, stunned by the knowledge a tiny baby was growing within.

Ellie caught hold of her hand and held it firmly in one place. ‘Can you feel him?’ she asked. ‘He’s coming out for exercise now he’s got room.’

Bonny’s face was a picture. Awe, delight and even confusion passed over it. ‘I’ve always wondered what it felt like,’ she said, bending her ear to listen at Ellie’s tummy. ‘I can hear him too.’

Ellie felt her eyes prickle and a lump came up in her throat. Such an intimate moment, she felt, should be shared by the baby’s father, yet she was moved by Bonny’s reverence and tenderness. She moved away and put her dress back on, taking some socks and slippers out of her case.

‘What have you told the neighbours about me?’ she asked, sitting down on the bed to put the socks on. ‘We’d better get our story straight.’

‘Nothing,’ Bonny replied, going to the fire and prodding it. ‘There aren’t any. The nearest is a mile away.’

‘Well, that’s one problem less,’ Ellie laughed. ‘I bought a wedding ring from Woolworth’s, I thought I could say my husband was working abroad. Bristol’s the nearest big city isn’t it? I could get a room there and find a doctor, somewhere near a hospital.’

‘We’ll have some supper and talk about it then,’ Bonny said. ‘You need a few days’ rest before you go anywhere.’

Eating sausages and mashed potato in the kitchen brought back reminiscences of Stacey Passage and their room in Brighton and Ellie put her questions and concern for her own plight on a back burner for the time being.

‘I can cook now,’ Bonny giggled as Ellie recalled a night when Bonny had put so much water in the powdered egg that it was like thin soup. ‘You just wait until I make a rabbit stew. Enoch brings me one nearly every week. I can’t make myself skin them, I get him to do that, but I watch! I can pluck chickens too, and pheasant. I’m getting to be quite the little housewife. My mum would be so impressed.’

They moved into the sitting-room later. It was the biggest room in the house, with windows overlooking the front garden and french windows at the back. With the thick gold velvet curtains and a log fire burning, it was very cosy.

Bonny told Ellie that Lady Beauchamp had given them the dark red brocade three-piece suite, and that the grandmother clock, an ornately carved chiffonier and the two sofa tables had all been bought from an antique shop in Bond Street.

‘Utility furniture is so ugly,’ Bonny said disparagingly. ‘I wouldn’t give it house room. How much longer is it going to be before we can buy what we want? The war’s been over for four years, we’ve still got food and petrol rationing. All we’ve got that’s better is the Health Service and everyone’s working their socks off.’

‘Except you,’ Ellie laughed. From what Ellie could see Bonny wasn’t going short on anything. She was wearing real nylons, not the lisle ones Ellie had to make do with, and her mid-calf skirt was very fashionable. Since clothing coupons had been abolished back in March, the shops had filled up again with clothes, but few people Ellie knew could afford a skirt and twin set as nice as her friend’s.

Just a glance in the pantry had astounded Ellie. It was stuffed with cans, luxuries like salmon, tinned peaches and pineapple. With Enoch supplying such things as rabbit and pheasant she obviously didn’t worry too much about meat rationing. Yet marriage seemed to have given Bonny maturity. While they were eating she’d spoken of gardening, reading and making jam. She looked every bit as pretty as before, but it wasn’t so contrived now: she wasn’t wearing make-up, her hair hadn’t been permed again since her wedding, and the twin set and pearls were vaguely reminiscent of Miss Wynter. Was it possible that marriage could make someone who was once so giddy turn into an adult overnight?

Ellie told Bonny about her last couple of weeks in
Oklahoma
, the small party the cast had thrown for her leaving, and about Sir Miles suggesting her for the part of Megan in
Soho
next year.

‘I want to do it more than anything in the world,’ she admitted. ‘I agreed to go for a screen test in early February and he sent round a copy of the script for me to study before I left London. But I’m so confused right now. I really can’t look ahead more than one day at a time.’

‘Everything will sort itself out,’ Bonny said soothingly. ‘Will you ever tell him who your mother was?’

Ellie shook her head firmly. ‘No. I’m happy that he seems to like me. It might put him off me.’

‘Some things are best kept quiet,’ Bonny agreed, an odd look passing over her face. Ellie thought perhaps she was thinking about her past.

‘Speaking of keeping things quiet, how did John react when you pretended to miscarry?’ Ellie asked, suddenly remembering Bonny hadn’t mentioned it.

‘Would you like some sherry?’ Bonny jumped out of her seat and went over to a small cabinet.

A chill went down Ellie’s spine. Was Bonny being deliberately evasive? ‘I don’t want sherry, Bonny,’ she replied. ‘I want to know what John said.’

Bonny turned and her face was bright pink. ‘He didn’t say anything,’ she said in a faint voice. ‘He thinks I’m still pregnant.’

Ellie forgot that just a minute or two ago she’d been admiring Bonny’s new maturity. ‘Bonny!’ she gasped. ‘You aren’t serious? You’d be six months pregnant. At that stage you can’t just claim you flushed it down the toilet.’

‘I know,’ Bonny whispered.

Ellie looked hard at her friend. There was anguish in those blue eyes, robbing them of their customary sparkle. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said crisply, determined to get to the bottom of everything. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

‘Yes,’ Bonny admitted wearily. She sunk down on the settee beside Ellie and laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. ‘You don’t know what it’s been like, Ellie. I’m so ashamed of myself, I can’t begin to explain.’

‘Start at the beginning,’ Ellie insisted. ‘You told me at your wedding that when you got your next period you were going to make out it was a miscarriage.’

‘I didn’t get one.’ Bonny sighed deeply, burying her head against Ellie’s neck like a small child. ‘I thought that meant I was pregnant after all and I was so thrilled. I even put on weight! But as the weeks passed I sensed I wasn’t pregnant, I didn’t feel queasy or anything.’

‘The old tummy troubles?’ Ellie sighed. She remembered Bonny had never been regular and when it did happen she often had very bad pains. ‘But couldn’t you just fake it?’

‘How?’ Bonny asked, her eyes wide and troubled. ‘Men aren’t stupid, Ellie. When someone’s sleeping with you night after night they get to know you very well. But that wasn’t the only reason.’ Her voice was little more than a faint whimper. ‘I really do love John, Ellie, not for all this –’ she waved her arm, indicating the house and all its contents – ‘but for himself.’

Ellie listened carefully as Bonny explained how happy they’d been, how she hadn’t wanted to add more lies to the ones she’d already told.

‘I was desperate to tell him the truth, but it just got harder and harder because he was so thrilled about the baby. When he said he was going to America, I thought maybe I could do something then, or at least write to him there and admit what I’d done.’

‘But you haven’t! Why not, Bonny?’ Ellie said impatiently.

‘Because of what a specialist in Bristol told me,’ Bonny sniffed. ‘You see, after John had gone away I thought I’d better have a check-up. He gave me a whole series of tests. He said I definitely wasn’t pregnant – what’s more I couldn’t ever be, because both my Fallopian tubes are severely damaged.’

Ellie was at a loss for words. The doctor in Great Yarmouth had hinted at this, but they’d both been so young then, and they hadn’t fully understood the implications. She hugged her friend in silent sympathy and let her go on.

‘You can’t imagine how stunned and upset I felt, Ellie. You see, I always thought that other doctor back in Great Yarmouth said those things to teach me a lesson because he guessed I’d had an abortion, and babies weren’t a priority in my life then. Deep down I didn’t really, truly believe it. Now it’s been confirmed, it feels like a punishment for all the nasty things I’ve done. But the more I think about it, the worse it gets. How can I tell John why I can’t have babies without admitting the past? Besides, John just couldn’t imagine marriage without children, he wants lots. He’s always talking about tree houses, sandpits and things. It’s bad enough to admit I married him under false pretences, but to have to tell him I can never give him a child, that’s just awful.’