The September Girls (16 page)

‘The Tsar was undoubtedly a shit,’ proclaimed a man with a straggly beard that came down to his chest, ‘but the Bolsheviks are no better. The country is in a worse state now than it was before.’

‘Yes, but Victor,’ a woman argued, ‘they’re not being given much chance to make things better, are they? They have the French, the British, and the Americans against them, not to mention the Japanese who have seventy thousand troops in Vladivostok. How can they feed the people when they’re continually at war?’

Colm melted away, wishing he hadn’t spoken and scared someone would ask for his opinion and he wouldn’t have one to offer. He was relieved when, after about three hours of torture, two of the guests announced they were going home and it meant he could go, too.

‘Stay a little while longer, Colm,’ Lizzie pleaded when he approached to say he was leaving. ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you.’

He had to hang around for at least another half an hour before everyone had gone, although didn’t mind. Out of all these highly intellectual people, Lizzie didn’t want
him
to leave.

‘What was it you wanted to ask me?’ he enquired when the door closed on the last of the guests. She leaned against it, smiling. The frills on the frock had slipped off her shoulders and he could see the white slope of her breasts, the nipples prominent through the thin material.

‘This!’ She came towards him, still smiling, laid her small hands on his cheeks then, raising herself slightly on her high heels, pressed her lips against his. He was about to push her away, when he felt her tongue force its way between his teeth and begin to probe his mouth.

Colm’s knees buckled. It was a practice he’d heard of, but never experienced. Her perfume was making him dizzy. He blinked, still in enough control of himself to have another attempt at pushing her tempting little body away, when she rubbed herself against him and murmured, ‘I’ve wanted us to do this ever since we met,’ and he was lost.

 

He walked like a maniac through the bright, moonlit streets, back to Brenna, back to the love of his life, the only woman he had ever wanted, the only woman he had ever touched - until tonight.

Lizzie had seduced him! And he, weak, shameful person that he was, had succumbed. Until tonight, the only part of Lizzie that interested him was her brain. Until tonight, all he’d wanted them to do was talk. Now he never wanted to see her again. He’d leave the builders’ yard, find another job - easier said than done, but he’d manage it somehow.

All the lights were out in the house in Shaw Street: Brenna must have gone to bed. He went in the back way and crept up the stairs so he wouldn’t disturb her or the children. Moonlight flooded through the window of the room where she lay, fast asleep, her red-gold hair spread over the pillow, and he thought how beautiful she was. He took off his clothes as quietly as he could, but couldn’t remove the studs from his stiff collar - he should have taken it off downstairs. Eventually, the front stud shot out and landed on the oilcloth with a tiny clatter. The slight noise was enough to wake Brenna.

‘Hello, darlin’,’ she said sleepily. ‘How did the meeting go?’

‘It was all right.’

‘Colm, I’m sorry I was in such an awful twist with meself earlier,’ she contritely, ‘but I did something desperately stupid yesterday - I let Katie tell me fortune from the tea leaves and she came up with some terrible things.’

‘That was a daft thing to do, Bren.’ He dragged off his vest, longing to get into bed and hold her.

‘I know that now. Colm,’ she said in small voice, ‘I’m expecting another baby.’

Colm struggled out of his trousers, threw them on the floor, slid into bed and reached for her. ‘That’s great news, luv. Jaysus! I missed you tonight. I don’t think I’ll go to another Labour Party meeting.’

She nestled against him. ‘I’m glad, darlin’. Me and Tyrone played Snap with those cards I bought the other day. You’d’ve enjoyed it.’

‘I would indeed.’ Playing cards with his wife and son would have been far more enjoyable than the party, including the aftermath with Lizzie.

‘What’s that smell?’ Brenna raised her head and sniffed. ‘It’s scent, that expensive stuff Eleanor Allardyce uses.’ Her voice rose. ‘Where the hell have you been, Colm, to come home stinking of scent?’

‘Lizzie Phelan was at the meeting,’ he said easily, his heart beginning an ugly thump in his chest, as a feeling of sheer terror possessed him. ‘She was sitting next to me. It must have just drifted across or something.’

‘Drifted across!’ Brenna was sitting up now. ‘It’s all over you: on your face and on your neck. I bet it’s on your shirt and jacket too, or did you have nothing on when the scent just drifted across?’

‘No, luv.’ He was stuck to the bed, too weak to move.

‘Did you sleep with Lizzie Phelan tonight, Colm?’ Brenda asked quietly.

‘No, luv.’ He began to cry. ‘Yes, luv, but only because she egged me on, pressed herself against me. I hardly knew what I was doing.’ He rolled over and tried to take her in his arms, but she shoved him roughly away.

‘Get off me!’ she hissed. ‘I don’t want you touching me ever again, Colm Caffrey. I’ll never forgive you for what you did tonight.’

‘I didn’t mean it, Bren. As I said, she egged me on . . .’ His voice trailed away. It was no excuse, and he knew it. If only he could have the last few hours back and live them again. If only he’d thought to get washed before he came upstairs. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked when Brenna got out of bed.

‘I’m going to sleep in Cara’s room, in Paddy’s bed. I’ll sleep there permanent from now on and you can have this room to yourself.’

‘There’s no need for that, luv.’

‘Oh, yes, there is. We’ve spent our last night together in this bed, Colm. It’ll never happen again. From now on, you can sleep on your bloody own.’

 

She lay in Paddy’s bed and stared through the bars of Cara’s cot at the dark-blue sky scattered with stars. She knew she would never sleep that night. Her head felt as if it were on fire and there was another fire in her gut at the thought of Colm with another woman, doing the things that were special to him and Brenna. Had he held her in his arms afterwards and told her he loved her? It hurt so much that she wanted to scream and scream and never stop so there’d be no room in her head to think about Lizzie Phelan and her husband.

Cara whimpered in her sleep and Brenna put her hand through the bars of the cot and gently patted the warm little body. ‘There, there, darlin’,’ she murmured. ‘Your mammy’s here.’ She left her hand where it was, getting some sort of comfort from the rise and fall of Cara’s breathing. At least she had the children to love and love her back. She wasn’t sure if she still loved Colm, but supposed she must or the hurt wouldn’t be this agonizingly painful.

She withdrew her hand and curled up under the covers. She’d never get comfortable - the pillow felt as if it had been filled with concrete. At some time during the day, she’d managed to convince herself it was just a coincidence that Katie had insisted she had four children when she only had three, little knowing there was another on the way. The other things were nonsense, ‘a load of baloney,’ as Nancy had said: the cross beside the rose that indicated a great tragedy, the dagger that meant betrayal, the weeping woman.

But that night, Colm had slept with Lizzie Phelan. What greater betrayal could there be than that?

Eleanor stood sideways and looked again at her full-length reflection in the wardrobe mirror. ‘I can’t be,’ she repeated aloud, yet there was no denying that her stomach was swollen and some of her frocks - the fitted ones - felt too tight, not just on her hips, but on her waist.

‘I’m pregnant!’ She was quite sure of it, yet hadn’t been sick or breathless or off her food. She felt particularly well, had done for weeks. Her periods had never been regular and there was nothing unusual about missing a few. ‘Perhaps I haven’t felt ill because it’s Daniel’s child.’ She remembered Daniel had promised she wouldn’t conceive and had been taking some sort of precautions.

‘I don’t mind,’ she told herself. ‘In fact, I’m glad: really, really glad.’

The situation was becoming impossible. They were so much in love and it was torture being apart. But now she was having their baby and she would have to leave Marcus and live with Daniel instead. She couldn’t wait to tell him the news: it was such a pity it was Sunday and she wouldn’t see him until tomorrow. He would give up his rooms and they would rent a little house not too far from Parliament Terrace so she could come and see Sybil - Marcus would never let her have his precious little girl, but would almost certainly let Anthony go with her.

Excitement mounting, she sat on the bed and began to plan her life with Daniel. She would still pay his fees for tutoring Anthony because it was all he had to live on and she hoped he wouldn’t find it too degrading. A woman would be engaged to clean and do the washing, but she would do the cooking herself - she was already looking forward to it. There was discarded furniture in the cellar, very old-fashioned, but would do until she bought new, more modern designs suitable for a much smaller house. Nancy was good at using the Singer sewing machine that was kept in the laundry room and would make some pretty curtains. It was all going to be quite wonderful.

The gong went for lunch and she went down to the dining room and found Marcus his usual grumpy self. They hardly spoke over the meal and she thought what heaven it would be never to eat with him again. As it was Sunday, Fergus was there, but Marcus insisted he and Anthony ate in the kitchen. ‘The pair of them get on my nerves,’ he’d complained months ago.

He finished eating and announced he was going to his club. Eleanor stayed at the table and wondered what to do with the afternoon. She would be quite happy just to sit and think about the life she would have with Daniel, but she usually took the boys out to Chester or Southport where they would have tea. Southport was the favourite, as they enjoyed playing football or cricket on the golden sands that seemed to go on for ever before they reached the sea. Lennie Beal, who worked in the factory and acted as their chauffeur, would arrive any minute to take them in the car. She could send him away if she cared to but, apart from seeing Daniel, Eleanor wasn’t sure what she wanted on the day she had discovered she was expecting his child.

Then she had a brilliant idea: she would ask Lennie to take them to Southport, but to go via Spellow Lane, where they could stop and she’d tell Daniel the marvellous news.

 

The November day was crisply cold, but the sky was clear and the sun shone through the windows of the Wolsley making the leather seats feel quite hot. Liverpool had never looked so beautiful, Eleanor thought as they drove through the near-empty streets. All the shops were closed and there were few pedestrians about and hardly any traffic.

‘Tell me where to stop, Mrs Allardyce,’ Lennie said when they approached Spellow Lane.

‘In about another hundred yards, outside a little tailor’s shop called Myersons. The person I want to see lives over it.’

‘Anthony wants to know who the person is you’re going to see.’ Fergus said when the car stopped. The boys had been conducting an animated conversation using sign language ever since they’d left Parliament Terrace. Fergus had obviously passed on this little piece of information.

‘Tell him it’s no one he knows.’ If he knew it was Daniel, he would insist on coming in.

She knocked on the door at the side of the shop and thought she could live with him in his rooms while looking round for a house. They were quite comfortable, if a bit too crammed with furniture. He opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise. Eleanor pushed her way in and quickly closed the door. ‘The boys are outside in the car. I don’t want them to see you.’

‘Why not?’ His hair was tousled and his shirt without a collar. He wore black and white striped braces. She thought he looked utterly adorable. ‘Kiss me,’ she demanded.

He laughed. ‘With pleasure.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. ‘Why the visit? I assume it’s not for the usual reason, not if you’ve brought Anthony and Fergus with you?’

‘We’re on our way to Southport, but I’ve got something to tell you. Can we go upstairs?’

‘Of course.’ He stood aside to let her go in front. In his sitting room, a small fire burnt, tea stood on the hearth and maps were spread over the table. It looked warm and snug. ‘I was just studying the world,’ he said.

He would just have to delay his travelling plans until their child had grown. She smiled, and was actually able to feel the radiance shining from her face. ‘Daniel, darling, I’m expecting a baby -
our
baby.’

His jaw dropped. ‘You can’t be!’

‘But I am.’ Her voice faltered. His reaction was not what she had expected.

‘But I always made sure that you wouldn’t.’ He picked up a map and began to fold it neatly along the creases. His hands were shaking and there was perspiration on his upper lip.

Eleanor sat inelegantly on a chair with a thump. Her head was spinning and she badly wanted to be sick. ‘Then you failed, because I’m pregnant, quite visibly so underneath my frock. Would you like me to show you?’ she asked in a hard voice that didn’t sound at all like her own.

‘It could be your husband’s.’ He reached for another map to fold, but she tore it from his hands.

‘It can’t be my husband’s. It can only be yours.’

‘Perhaps the first time we . . .’ he waved his hand towards the bedroom door, ‘. . . the first time, I may not have withdrawn quickly enough.’

‘Then that, Daniel, is the reason why I’m expecting
our
baby,’ Eleanor said in the same hard voice.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked helplessly.

‘For a start, you could take some responsibility for your actions.’