The Crimson Bed (29 page)

He awoke to find himself beside Sue Witherspoon in a soft white bed. He looked around in some amazement. How on earth had he got here? There was some recollection of taking a cab with her and... had he made love to her? He simply could not recall.

    Sue also woke now. Pulling herself up and leaning on her elbow, she stared at him.

    Fred sat bolt upright up and was in a complete panic.

    'I shouldn't be here!' he exclaimed and made as if to arise.

    Sue caught his arm. 'Why?' she said laconically. 'Where else have you got to be?'

    He sank down again and looked at her. She was naked and her flesh shone a pure white in the thin rays of the morning sunlight as it filtered through the curtains. He had scarcely seen his wife naked, let alone another woman. Clothes lay in heaps around the room. His trousers, he saw, were flung on top of a woman's petticoats and stays. They must have made love. And he didn't even recall it!

    As if reading his mind, Sue smiled and passing her hand gently across his cheek and then his groin, she moved herself closer towards him in the bed. She didn't have to wait long for a response. With a neat swiftness, she flung back the covers and climbed upon him, pushing his arms down in mock restraint. He stared up at her as she arose from his body like a white pillar.

    'You were very drunk and it was all very quick,' she said, 'so why don't we try again? A little more leisurely this time? It would be a shame to be so naughty and not even have the memory for future delight!'

Chapter 25

Fred spent several, long-drawn-out, tempestuous hours with Sue. They arose some time in the mid-morning and Sue sent the tiny slavey for some hot water, washed, and dressed, the little girl helping her to button up at the back before being sent off again on another errand with a hard slap for her pains.

    Fred, who had swiftly got himself ready, went into Sue's parlour and looked about him. It was tidy enough with plain, simple furnishings. He was relieved by this, as a dirty place would have made him feel uneasy and sordid. He had imagined she might have quite a boudoir, all lace covers, heavy velvet curtains and hangings but this was not the case. Only the large sofa of dark brown velvet was plump, soft, covered over with overstuffed cushions and lacy antimacassars on top of the arms and along the back.

    In fact, some of her pieces of furniture looked very unusual, antique and elegant. A beautiful oval mirror with an elaborate carved gold frame hung over the mantelpiece. She also possessed some very good pictures and books, which surprised Fred, and he studied these intently for some time. What, he wondered, would a woman like Sue want with a book of Maucalay's essays or Alexander Pope's poetry, or even odder, Goethe's F
aust?

    Sue came in now and saw him looking at them.

    'For my old age, what d'you suppose? The books are all first editions, you know. You won't forget to buy me Jessaline's pictures?'

    'I won't forget.'

    'I'll sell the lot one day but I'll keep one or two of Jess,' she said. A fondness always crept into her voice when she spoke of the young girl.

    'You care about Jessie, don't you?' said Fred.

    'We go back a long way, her and me.'

    She returned to the bedroom to pin up her hair. Left alone, he looked out once more from the window of her rooms, which were high on the third floor of what appeared to be a ramshackle boarding house. His gaze travelled over the red roofs and chimney pots, which seemed to go on forever till they reached the river edge. He wondered about all the people who lived in this seemingly never-ending array of houses. Were they poor and happy, or degraded and filthy and miserable? What feelings moved them, what ideas and thoughts, if any? It seemed another world from his childhood home in spacious Russell Square and his charming married home in Hampstead amidst its clean, quiet streets, pretty houses and green fields and lanes.

    What prompted people to come and live here when they might live poor, but surely happier, in the countryside?

    He voiced this to Sue when she returned. She stared at him for a moment then laughed with some scorn.

    'All very well for you, my dear,' she said, 'you that were born with a silver spoon in your mouth but folks want money just as your folks do. Don't you fool yourself that gentlefolk don't want it too and grub around in their genteel way. Don't
you
, with all your fancy picture-selling and clever deals? Difference is you lot were born with it but most of the people I've known have to struggle for every penny. Green fields are not pleasurable to those with hungry bellies, I can tell you. I know,' she added bitterly. 'I was born in a village in Essex and we were always hungry as kids. No shoes, no proper clothes, no nothing. My Dad was a fucking drunkard who beat me regularly, plus other things he did to me, which I won't trouble your gentlemanly ears with. We all slept in one bed, top to tail and when my Dad wasn't messing about with us girls, my older brothers would take over. All very cosy and in the family, you know. My Ma sent me out to work when I was seven. '

    'God!' said Fred appalled, 'I can't even begin to imagine such a life as you describe. And then to be sent into service so young.'

    She said nothing, just gave him a funny little sideways smile and after powdering her hands, pulled on some tight kid gloves. She picked up the little dog that had slept the night on the end of their bed but disappeared precipitately with the later morning's activities into the other room. It now lay curled up on the deep brown velvet sofa. Sue murmured soothing things in its little black ears, which she stroked and fondled.

    He noticed that her accent had become far less polite and ladylike now and was more distinctly cockneyish. Her whole attitude to him was different now, careless, and familiar. Well, he thought sadly, it was no wonder. He had degraded himself. He was part of her and her life now and he would never feel quite clean again.

    They went out for some food, as Sue had not even a biscuit in her rooms. The streets were as always full of noise and commotion. Heavy horses struggled to haul along huge loads amidst the neighing and rearing of the more nervy animals that pulled the hansom cabs and their passengers. Omnibuses, loaded to the sky with grim-faced humanity, wove in and out of the medley of butcher's and baker's drays and other vehicles. Sue and Fred dodged in and out of the cabs and avoided the piles of fresh, steaming horse manure. Crossing sweepers hurried forward for the lady and gent, sweeping furiously away and shoving the filth towards the gutters.

    The loud shouts and noises of street vendors were all around them and shops seemed full of folks as if on a holiday. Working women hurried around as if their lives depended on it, buying meat and vegetables from the street stalls. The more leisurely young women, the loose-living lassies with time to spare and money to spend, were in the milliners to buy gaudy bonnets, silks and threads and ribbons at the haberdashers, or having their neat boots mended. Street urchins pressed longing faces against the pastry shops and jostled whooping and yelling with delivery men on their way to the wharves or markets.

    The traffic was impossible here. Fred had never seen quite such a crush as this or such a scene. He had seldom in his life ventured into the slums, not even with Gabriel Rossetti who always enjoyed being a voyeur of insalubrious places. There was no rest here, no repose. All was bustle and movement but to what purpose? Where was everyone going in such a hurry and such a frenzy? He could not help but think it was just hurrying towards their graves. That in the end was the only and ultimate destination for all beings, which begged the question... what, then was the point of all that went on in-between?

    As they progressed further into the chaos and confusion that abounded, they passed some of the dark, winding alleyways near the riverside. Fred caught a glimpse of barefoot children sitting on doorsteps and babies crawling about in the gutters, their clothes filthy and mud-encrusted, their eyes sad, and mouths slack and hopeless, looks of apathy upon their faces. Scavenging dogs roamed amongst them, looking mangy with ribs that showed through stick-thin bodies. He wasn't sure which looked the most pathetic: the children or the sad, abandoned animals.

    He averted his eyes from these scenes though he felt an immense pity at the sight of them. What hope had such children? He thought of his own babies and shuddered. Why were some born to be in this place while his children were so lucky to be born to him and Ellie?

    For a moment the memory of his dear little family made him wince with regret. However, just for now his old life was suspended in time. It was as if he was acting in some strange play and he followed Sue who wended her way through the streets with careless and indifferent familiarity. They sat at last in an eating-house that she apparently knew well and ordered some food. Sue fell to with great appetite but Fred wasn't hungry. His head still ached from the excess of wine he had imbibed the night before and so did other parts of his body from the excess of pleasuring he had just received. He wasn't sure whether he felt ashamed or relieved. Sue had certainly fulfilled his wildest desires. Yet he was not happy at all.

    He felt defiled and also felt he had betrayed all his beliefs and principles. The food choked him now. He pushed the plate away.

    'Not hungry, my dear?'

    'No,' he said miserably.

    She ate on and regarded him, her eyes narrowed and thoughtful.

    'So now we're feeling sorry for ourselves, are we? Nice gentleman. Why don't you just admit it? You needed to fuck, didn't you? Didn't you? And I obliged you and it ain't for free so don't kid yourself. Doesn't work that way. You know that, I suppose?'

    'Of course I do. But keep your voice down.'

    'Huh... everyone here knows Sue Witherspoon, knows her trade and admires her ways. They think I'm quite a lady. And so I am, my duck, more of a lady than some of those I see in their fine broughams. I learnt their ways when I was in service, I learnt to imitate all their fine manners and find out how to dress and behave. I won't be poor all my life, that I'm determined. One day, I will be a lady and live in a fine house. Wait and see!'

    'I'm sure you will.' He felt some admiration for her himself. She may well have been born poor but there was no doubt that she meant to rise up in the world.

    'Well then. Now you know. You needn't give me cash – I'm not that sordid. Buy me those pictures of Jess and that will be good payment. '

    'So this is how you get all your pictures and books and things then?' he couldn't help saying.

    Sue was quite easy about it. 'Of course. Goods are better than cash. When I need money I sell something, a piece of jewellery perhaps, and then maybe buy something else. I'm getting quite an eye for a bargain. May even open a shop of my own someday.'

    'You're clever and crafty – but it has a certain charm.'

    'You don't know how crafty I can be by half. Oh, no, not yet,' was the enigmatic reply.

Fred paid for the meal and asked her if she wanted a cab home.

'I'll take a cab and go visit Jessaline,' she said.

'Don't tell her about... about us,' he begged.

    'Why not? She isn't a baby. She's been in the game since she was twelve. She'll think all the more of you to know you're a proper gent and not prissy. Did you never fancy her? She's young and pretty. Don't tell me you didn't fancy her?'

    'No, I didn't. She's far too young. It's evil that so young a girl has to turn to such a profession. Sue, you brought her to it. You drag everyone down with you.'

    She laughed heartily, 'There's nice! And after you had such a good time that your cock aches with it! Me drag people down?... Well, onto the bed maybe. But they aren't there because of me, mister, but because of what they want of me. Don't you forget that. It's what men want and girls like me supply it.'

    As they parted, she leaned towards him and whispered in his ear, 'And you'll be back for more, my dear – you'll be back for more now you've had a taste of it. And you
do
have a taste for it... I know!'

Chapter 26

'And so the life blood of this rose
Puddled with shameful knowledge, flows
Through leaves no chaste hand may unclose.'
Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Jenny

Calling round at Winstone's studio a week later, Fred found Henry busily painting his new lover, a tall, statuesque blonde called Tippy Jennings. He had come across her on top of an omnibus and was immediately fascinated by the girl. A horse had slipped in the rain and fallen down in its shafts. The bus and other traffic were obliged to stop. Eager street boys came dashing up to sit on the poor creature's head to stop it thrashing about so that it could be released from its harness. Sadly, the horse had broken its foreleg and had to be shot and carted away to the abattoir for horsemeat.

    This had been a heaven-sent opportunity for Henry to strike up a conversation with the pretty passenger, who was leaning over the side of the omnibus and shouting along with others at the scene below, giving advice, cursing or cheering according to the mood and need.

    'Poor creatures,' the girl had remarked as she turned towards Henry, 'I hate to see 'em drop like that. Poor overworked things!'

    She seemed genuinely upset and Henry felt it showed a kind heart. Her beauty stunned him. He had to paint her come what may. Why had he ever thought Rosie Gamm a beauty? Compared to this glorious girl, Rosie was an overblown rose, soon to be fat and blowsy.

    'Forgive me,' he had said, 'I know you don't know me from Adam but I'm a well-known artist round here. I would really like to have you sit for me. You have such a very beautiful face and it is just what I need for a picture I'm engaged on right now. Would you agree to come?'