The Loom (24 page)

Darkie was alarmed, too, at some of the things he’d heard. As usual the guests acted as though he were invisible, as though he couldn’t hear a damn thing! As he handed two gentlemen drinks the older of the two lit a cigarette and, in an aside to the rather dandified younger one, said.

‘
What do you think of Grentham’s ideas, Hugh?’

Dandy Hugh took a sip of whisky, his little finger held at an affected angle.

‘
Little apprehensive at first, old chap, but now I think he’ll do well.’

‘
Mm…yes, looks like he’s in form tonight.’

‘
Yes, sorry for the wife, though. Nice girl, good family, but obviously hasn’t a clue; not his type, eh?’ A snide laugh followed.

Darkie looked at Hugh sharply. He decided to hang around to hear the rest of the conversation.

‘
She should know by now, surely.’

‘
Don’t know about that, old chap. A bit naïve I should think.’

‘
Mm…Could be right. From the look of it Geoffrey’ll alter that soon enough.’

‘
Yes, see what you mean.
He’s
in top form tonight.’

Darkie walked over to John Grentham to offer him a drink. He tried to catch his eye but John looked away evasively. It’s almost as though he’s deliberately ignoring me, Darkie thought angrily.

John was not at all oblivious to the goings on! He looked over to where Marion was sitting. His plan seemed to be working and Geoffrey was well into the drama. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geoffrey put his hand on Marion’s knee. Marion tried to push it off, unsuccessfully, almost falling off the chair in the process.

Geoffrey leered over Marion, who drew back and even in her inebriated state John saw the look of distaste of her face. Hope old Geoffrey’s not going to overdo it, he thought. He’ll spoil everything.

He should never have married Marion, he knew that now. He’d married her to please his parents and to create a façade of normalcy to his life. He’d done the wrong thing. Not only was he very unhappy but he’d done Marion a great injustice expecting her to accept their farce of a marriage. Especially when she had no idea what was behind it! It had been unbelievably callous to do this to an innocent girl. Marion’s growing misery and disillusion had made him realize that he had to do something to rectify the situation.

Marion had led a sheltered life, except for the little episode in Manchester. George Townsend had told him of that, explaining he wanted everything above board.

The naivete of the episode had been rather laughable, although John managed to keep a straight face. Still a virgin, George said.

At the time he’d hardly had a twinge of conscience but now he cared about Marion, was very fond of her in fact and hated what he was doing to her. He hadn’t known how to explain. He couldn’t hope to make her understand his abnormal inclinations, but perhaps tonight would open her eyes. He knew of at least two other similar marriages and they seemed to be coping without any hardship or scandal.

The Honourable Roger Dawkins, member for the constituency of Wigan, repeated his question for the third time. What was wrong with the blighter tonight, he thought. John hastily gave him his attention.

‘
Yes, yes, of course I’m aware of the situation. It’s those damned coal miners with their damned slogans and demands. They pulled their heads in during the war, but now the unions are taking full advantage and are here to stay I’m afraid, Roger. We’ll have to meet them halfway without upsetting the employers too much. We’ll also have to consider women voters. They’re becoming much more vocal and they’ll have the same suffrage as men soon.’

Normally he enjoyed these meetings, but tonight his mind was on other things. The air was thick with cigar and cigarette smoke. He could hardly see through the fug and his guests had drunk enough to sink a battleship. In the sitting room the gramophone was belting out the latest ragtime with out of tune singers joining in. He made his way over to where Marion and Geoffrey were sitting.

Geoffrey dragged his gaze away from Marion’s delectable cleavage. He’d had to make an effort to keep his hands off those luscious breasts. She was a delicious little thing, he thought, but even that slight pressure of his hand on her knee had made her go rigid, in spite of the state she was in. He’d begun to have second thoughts about this charade. He couldn’t see Marion going along with it, in spite of John’s reassurance. He looked up to see John standing over them. There was no way he could back out now.

‘
Feeling all right, darling,’ John said to Marion. He was looking at her intently as though to gauge the stage of her befuddlement. Marion looked back with bleary eyes.

‘
I’m rather tired, John. Would you mind if I went to bed.’ Her words were slurred.

‘
Not yet darling, you seem to be having a good time. Geoffrey is too, aren’t you Geoff old boy?’

‘
Yes, topping, topping. Just telling Marion what happened at the hunt. That gelding of your mother’s went completely haywire. Thought the rider would come a cropper, but she managed to keep her seat. Poor woman almost landed in a hedge.’ He laughed, braying like a horse himself.

‘
John, darling, I want to go to bed.’ John looked at Marion worriedly. Trust Geoffrey to overdo it. She’d had far too much drink!

‘
Did you tell Geoffrey about the sculpture Mother bought you, darling?’ he said brightly. He put his arm round her shoulder. Even in her befuddled state Marion looked surprised. John never touched her unless he had to.

‘
What, oh, no, no, I didn’t think he’d be interested.’

‘
Oh, he is, he is. It’s a hobby of his. Why not show it to him.’

‘
But it’s in my bedroom, John.’ She looked glassily at her husband, trying vainly to make his two heads one.

She’d really had too much to drink, and wished that all these people would disappear and she could sink into her lovely feather bed.

‘
Why not take Geoffrey upstairs for a quick look, darling. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Geoffrey?’

‘
What, oh, yes, yes, love it, just love it.’

Marion somehow found herself being propelled up the stairs by both John and Geoffrey and into her bedroom.

She stood uncertainly for moment, swaying, then tried to make out why Geoffrey was bending down. It looked as though he was picking something up off the floor. No, he was undoing his shoelaces! Why would he be doing that, she thought? She shook her head. She really would have to sit down otherwise she’d fall down and she was so fuddled that she was imagining things.

She looked again and tried to make out what Geoffrey was doing. It must be her imagination because she was sure that Geoffrey was now taking his shoes off, and that couldn’t be right. Why would he do that? She shook her head trying to see more clearly but it was no use.

John suddenly took hold of her and made her lie on the bed. That hadn’t been hard at all but before she could snuggle into the eiderdown he turned her over and began to undo the buttons on the back of her dress.

‘
John, what…what are you doing?’ She could hardly get the words out because her mouth was pressed into the quilt.

‘
Not to worry, darling, just relax and enjoy yourself.’

‘
Enjoy myself?’ Her head had cleared a little because now she could see that Geoffrey had taken off his trousers. She must be going mad!

Darkie had seen the trio leave the room and go upstairs. He was instantly suspicious but at that moment a guest asked for more wine and he had to open another bottle of champagne. He must have opened dozens and this lot was still going strong and would be at it all night from the look of things. By the time he’d sloshed wine into half a dozen glasses Marion and company had disappeared.

He put the tray down on a table and took the stairs two at a time. He was just thinking that there was something very bloody funny going on here when he heard a cry, which was cut off abruptly as he reached the landing.

He was at the bedroom door in three long strides and flung it open. His shocked gaze took in the three on the bed, who all turn around as the door slammed hard against the wall.

‘
Darkie,’ Marion slurred, looking over to him from the bed.

‘
What on earth…how dare you come in here,’ John shouted.

Darkie ran towards the bed. ‘You bloody perverted bastards. Let her go or I’ll knock your bloody blocks off.’

He grabbed John by his shirt, lifted him off the bed and sent him flying across the room where he landed in an undignified heap next to the bureau.

Geoffrey was busily pulling his trousers on and groping around for his shoes. He was staring at Darkie in terror but he couldn’t leave without his shoes, could he, but then seeing Darkie head for him, he scuttled towards the door. Good God, he might just have to because this monster had taken leave of his senses.

Geoffrey shot out of the room minus shoes. John picked himself up off the floor, brushed himself down and then sauntered out of the room.

‘
See that you leave soon,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘And take her with you.’ He nodded towards Marion.

Darkie stared after him as John closed the door. What a bloody cool customer, he thought.

He turned to look at Marion. She was looking at him as though hypnotized. He went over and shook her.

‘
Marion, Marion, are you all right?’ He shook her again.

Marion retched all night long.

There was a stretch of it when she wanted to die, thought she would die.

‘
I’m dying,’ she said, over and over.

Darkie held her as she vomited into the toilet bowl. When the paroxysm was finally over he took her clothes off, although she protested.

‘
You can’t wear these,’ he said as she pushed his hands away. ‘They’re stinking.’

She began to sob. ‘It’s all wrong, Darkie, all wrong.’

‘
You sound like my mother,’ he said. ‘But we’ll try to make it all right, hey?’ He stripped her down to her camisole, wiped her face with a flannel and then wrapped her in a large white towel and carried her to the bed.

‘
I think I should take you over to your mother’s.’

‘
Not yet, Darkie, I feel too sick.’ Marion moaned.

The room tilted at an odd angle and she wanted to be sick again but held it back. Darkie was bending over her, concern on his face. Thank goodness he’d been in time.

Marion shuddered. How could John! She’d never forgive him. Never!

‘
I’m so tired, Darkie. Couldn’t I just have a little sleep first before we go.’

‘
Aye, that might be a good idea.’ Darkie pulled the quilt back and helped Marion into the bed, still wrapped in the towel.

She was shivering so he lay down next to her and pulled her to him. She fell asleep immediately. He looked down at her closed lids. He thought of the elegant creature of the early evening floating into the room in her chiffon dress, not a hair out of place. He’d wanted her so much then, could have gobbled her up.

Now he was in bed with her, but it wasn’t desire he felt at the moment as much as tenderness. He could have killed that bloody Grentham! He closed his eyes. He was dog-tired as well. He’d never seen anyone retch so much and for so long. Where had it all come from? He’d just have forty winks and then they’d be on their way.

In spite of his tiredness it was a while before he slept. His mind was in a whirl. Since the afternoon of the car episode Marion had been friendly but distant. He had been hurt but tried not to show it. Probably had second thoughts!
He
certainly hadn’t; each time he saw her his feeling grew. He wouldn’t blame her at all if she did change her mind. What had he to offer? Nothing, bloody nothing and he was a numbskull to even contemplate having anything to do with her except chauffeur her around. Even
that
would end soon because she could drive now and could tootle around in her new car on her own.

He remembered his feelings for Kitty, how besotted he’d been. He’d been a boy then. Now he was a man and his feelings were different. Not less, no never that because he’d thought the world of Kitty. What he felt now was raw emotion, desire, longing, the deep loving and lusting that men need. He didn’t want a brief affair either. He wanted Marion with a man’s passionate longing. He’d had a few short liaisons since he’d returned to Harwood. They’d eased the physical clamourings of his body, but his mind had remained untouched by any emotional commitment. He’d never, since Kitty, felt any stirrings of love until he leant over Marion in the car.

One thing was clear. Marion could not live in this house any longer. He finally drifted off, but his mind was still filled with the night’s activities: all mixed up as dreams usually are, people in wrong settings, the wrong speech coming from wrong mouths. A nightmare!

He woke with a jolt. Something had disturbed him. A loud crack of thunder made him jump again. Lightning flashed through a chink in the curtains. Then the rain came down, pelting against the windows, huge drops, which reverberated like bullets. In the gray dawn light he could barely make out the furniture. He had pins and needles in the arm Marion was lying on. He pulled it out carefully from under her and rubbed it with his other hand. He winced as the circulation returned.