Lizzie's Secret (16 page)

*

Harry's letter came through five weeks after Mary's wedding. He was coming home on leave the following week for eight days. Time for them to marry and go on a short honeymoon.

Lizzie's spine tingled as she read the letter. It was going to happen at last and she could hardly wait. She told her friends and wrote a card out for all of them, including Aunt Jane. Lizzie didn't particularly want her aunt at the wedding, but she thought she ought to invite her.

‘Are you sure it's what you want to do?' Mrs Court asked her twice. ‘You know we are happy to have you here for as long as you wish?'

‘Yes, I do know and I've been happy with you, but Harry wants us to be married and settled…'

‘You're so young,' Mrs Court said.

‘I'll be twenty-one, next year, and I feel older,' Lizzie replied. ‘Harry's done everything, sorted it all out. We're just having a civil ceremony and a little reception at a small hotel – and you will all be invited. We'd thought of a church, but it's easier to arrange at the Registrar's Office when you don't know the exact date beforehand.'

‘Beth is going to say she wants to be married too,' Mrs Court said, looking anxiously at her daughter's back. ‘I know it isn't up to me, Lizzie – but I do wonder if you're rushing things.'

‘No, I don't think so,' Lizzie assured her. ‘Harry loves me and I love him…' as she said it, Lizzie felt sure it was true. ‘I know we've only known each other a few months, but Harry said he loved me from the first minute he saw me and…'

‘Well, if you're sure, love,' Mrs Court gave her a hug. ‘I'm always here if you ever need me.'

‘Thank you, I'll remember that…'

*

Harry met her from work the evening before their wedding, which was the 19
^th
September and a Tuesday. Lizzie hadn't been sure when he would get home and flung herself into his arms, kissing him until she was breathless. He leaned forward, opening the door of the van for her to get in.

‘We'll go to the flat, Lizzie,' he said. ‘The bedroom stuff is being delivered in the morning, first thing. Have you done anything about the other furniture?'

‘The rooms aren't big, so I've bought small neat things – a nice oak table that folds back against the wall when you don't need it, and two chairs in the kitchen and a chintz-covered suite in the sitting room I think you'll love it; it's quite modern.'

‘The bedroom stuff is Edwardian, but really pretty, Lizzie. I thought we could have a new modern mattress… if that's all right?'

‘It sounds good to me. We don't need too much for a start, because we can buy things as we go along, when we find out what we like – choose it together.'

‘You will be doing most of the choosing,' Harry said. ‘I've got a week after the wedding and then I'm off to finish my training. After that I could be sent anywhere…'

‘Oh, Harry…' Lizzie felt a sinking sensation inside. ‘I wish you didn't have to go back…'

‘We all have to now, love. I'm not going too far for a start,' Harry told her. ‘I'll be based just outside London this time and I shall be able to come home on regular two-day passes until I've finished my training…'

Lizzie nodded and kissed him, but she had a strange feeling of foreboding hanging over her. However, she told herself she was being a fool. Harry was doing what he'd wanted to do and it was surely better than his being called up to the Army. Every woman in the country would be feeling as she was, worried about husbands, brothers, sons and even fathers. Beth's father had found himself an evening job fire-watching, and checking that no one was showing a light from their blackout curtains. It seemed that the whole country had war fever and were all bent on doing their bit.

Lizzie stretched and yawned, wondering why she felt so good and then her eye fell on the simple white dress she'd bought for her wedding. It was the first time she'd ever purchased a dress from a good shop, and she'd wanted it to be special.

‘I'll bring you a cup of tea up and some toast.' Beth smiled at her. ‘We've got to make a fuss of you today, Lizzie.'

‘Thanks.' Lizzie touched her hand. ‘It was my lucky day when I met you, Beth.'

Beth went off and Lizzie lay back against the pillows. It was nice not to have to get up and rush off to work. For a whole week she would be with Harry and they could do whatever they wanted. Lizzie had never been away to the sea for a whole week before and she could hardly control her excitement.

Beth brought a tray of tea and toast up and the two girls sat together on the bed and ate their breakfast. It was a lovely way to spend the hours before her wedding and Lizzie could not remember feeling this happy in her life.

After breakfast, Lizzie had a bath and washed her hair. Beth pinned it up for her with Kirby grips and Lizzie sat on the bed waiting for it to dry. Mrs Court came upstairs when Beth took the tray down and brought her some cards that had come through the door, mostly by hand, and the posy of flowers that Harry had sent.

‘I thought you would want to see them,' she said smiling and then pulled a face as she heard the front doorbell ring. She went to the head of the stairs and called down, ‘Beth answer the door please.'

‘All right, Mum.'

‘So, are you excited?' Mrs Court said and bent to kiss Lizzie's cheek. ‘Derek was really pleased you asked him to be one of the witnesses…' They heard footsteps coming up the stairs and then Beth entered, looking uncertain. ‘Who was it, love?'

‘It's your aunt, Lizzie. She says she has to see you – that it's important…'

‘Of all the days to come,' Mrs Court said, looking cross. ‘Do you want to see her, Lizzie?'

‘I suppose I shall have to. Where is she?'

‘I asked her to wait in the front room,' Beth said. ‘If I were you I'd send her away. I'm sure she's here to make trouble…'

‘She always said I should never marry. I have no idea why and I don't care what she says. She can't hurt me now…' Lizzie shrugged on her bathrobe over her petticoat and went down to Mrs Court's parlour. Her aunt was wearing a grey coat and black hat; it was obvious that she hadn't come dressed for a wedding. ‘You wanted to see me, Aunt Jane?'

‘I've been ill or I would have come sooner,' her aunt said. ‘I want you to reconsider this foolish idea of yours, Lizzie. It will end in tears for you…'

‘Why should marriage to Harry make me unhappy? We love each other – besides, we're getting married today…'

‘I know. It was a shock when your letter came. I wasn't well and signed the papers but I should've told you years ago, but Jack forbade it…'

‘Told me what?' Lizzie asked and felt chilled at the look in her aunt's eyes. She had a tingling sensation at her nape and was suddenly nervous. ‘What should I know, Aunt Jane?'

‘You've never remembered what happened to you?' Aunt Jane shook her head. ‘Of course not or you would realise how foolish it is to think of marriage.'

‘Why? Is it impossible for me to have children or something?'

‘I've no idea about that, though it may be…' Aunt Jane took a deep breath. ‘I never agreed with that doctor. I thought you should face up to what happened… to the shame of it…'

‘Shame?' Lizzie's stomach was tying itself in knots now and she felt shivery. ‘What shame, aunt? What did I do?'

‘It wasn't what you did… at least, as far as I know. It was what someone did to you, Lizzie.' Her eyes were cold, unforgiving. ‘You went running out of the house that night. I called you back but you wouldn't listen. You brought it on yourself.'

‘Please tell me what happened.' Lizzie had to know the truth now.

‘You were viciously attacked and abused physically,' her aunt said, the words so harsh that Lizzie felt as if she'd struck her. ‘In the struggle you were knocked unconscious.' Her aunt went on relentlessly, ‘You were ill for a long time afterwards and when you lost the child, you developed a fever and you never recovered your senses properly, though you drifted in and out for months and then you went into… a state of shock the doctors called it.'

Lizzie was stunned, unable to credit what she was hearing. ‘I was raped… I had a child…'

‘An unpleasant word, but I suppose that is the truth of it, though we can never know what happened that night… but you were left unconscious and bleeding. If you hadn't been found by a nurse coming off a late night shift, I dare say you would have been dead by morning. Perhaps that would have been for the best…'

Lizzie recoiled from the shock, unable to take in what her aunt was saying. ‘You would rather I had died…'

‘I did not want your shame to rebound on us, but of course your uncle moved Heaven and Earth to get the right treatment for you, especially after the child miscarried and they told us you would die. It cost him a fortune to send you to a private sanatorium…'

‘My God, you are a cruel witch,' Lizzie said, staring at her with new-born hatred. ‘All these years you let me believe it was an accident… you never told me a word and now on my wedding day…'

‘Well, you had to know, because there's still time to stop it…'

Bile rose in Lizzie's throat. ‘Get out, I never want to see you again,' she said and then rushed from the room and out to the toilet in the backyard.

As she vomited into the toilet pan, Lizzie was struggling to come to terms with what her aunt had told her. How could all those things have happened to her and she couldn't remember any of it? Raped, battered and left to die… she couldn't take it in, couldn't accept it was true.

She'd been carrying a child but it had been lost. Had her body rejected it and how long had she carried it…? So many questions unanswered. Her mind whirled with them, reeling from the shock, still unable to take any of it in.

As the first shock started to recede, Lizzie began to think for herself. She couldn't remember any of it, and because of that she began to reject what she'd been told. Surely if she'd been beaten and raped, carried and lost a child, she would remember something. No! It was a lie, a cruel lie to prevent her marriage. Aunt Jane had simply wanted to hurt her, so she'd invented this story. It couldn't be the truth… surely she would remember something. She must know if she'd carried a child and given birth to it! So it had to be a lie – it had to be, because if it was true…

‘Lizzie, are you all right?' Beth's anxious voice was outside the door. ‘Did that old witch upset you?'

‘Yes,' Lizzie said, making up her mind in that moment to ignore her aunt's wicked lies. ‘She hates me and always has…'

‘I wish I'd slammed the door in her face,' Beth said. ‘I can't understand anyone who would come all this way just to be nasty on your wedding day…'

Lizzie went out to her friend. ‘It was her revenge because my uncle left everything to me. I think she's always hated me.'

‘Come on back upstairs and I'll brush your hair,' Beth said. ‘She's a vicious old witch and if I were you I should never speak to her again.

‘I don't intend to.' Lizzie felt numb as she followed Beth back upstairs, the shadows her aunt's bitter words had left behind flooding into her mind once more.

Supposing it was all true? Harry loved her because he thought her perfect, untouched… if he thought she'd been tarnished…

Sitting down on the edge of the bed as her legs suddenly felt weak, Lizzie was frightened. ‘I'm not sure I can go through with it… if she was telling the truth…'

‘What are you talking about' Beth asked but Lizzie just shook her head.

‘I can't talk about it… it was lies, it had to be…'

‘Lizzie love, look at me,' Beth took her by the shoulders. ‘Harry adores you and you love him, don't you?' Lizzie nodded, her throat so tight with tears that she couldn't speak. ‘Well, then, don't let her win, Lizzie. You've found a new life for yourself. You can't throw it away because of her nasty tongue.'

‘No…' Lizzie raised her head, pride asserting itself. Harry loved her. She would tell him what her aunt said and they would laugh over it, because it was the most ridiculous tale. ‘No, it's just nerves, Beth. All brides have them, don't they?'

*

Beth looked at the simple white dress Lizzie had chosen for her wedding and felt a little envious. It fitted her as if it had been made for her, even though she'd bought it off the peg at a shop in the West End. She had made herself a hat of fine straw with tulle and veiling that had the sparkle of silver in it, and her shoes were white satin, her gloves lace and around her throat she wore a silver locket on a chain, which had belonged to Harry's mother.

‘You look gorgeous,' she said. ‘I do envy you, Lizzie, but it's too late for me now. I've finished with Tony.'

‘I'm sorry, Beth. It's unfair that I should meet Harry and marry him within a few months and you have to wait ages.'

‘Not your fault,' Beth hugged her. ‘Are you all right now, love? She hasn't ruined your big day?'

‘No, I'm over it now,' Lizzie replied, though Beth wasn't sure she was telling the truth. ‘Is my dress all right?'

‘That dress is lovely, but I wish you'd had your wedding in church.'

‘It was easier and quicker this way. Besides, the church wanted three weeks' notice and Harry couldn't give it,' Lizzie replied, though Beth thought she looked a little disappointed. ‘Harry wanted us to be settled in before he goes off for his final months of training – and we're having a few days at Torquay, in a posh hotel on the front.'

‘Yes, you are very lucky. I'm going to miss you, though. I was just getting used to having you with us and it was nice.'

‘You will have your bedroom back and you must admit it is better with all my stuff gone.'