Seasons of Love (7 page)

She was near collapse herself by the time her husband began to recover, but she dared not give in to her weariness, for fear Harry would suffer.

As Robert improved, he grew more querulous.

‘That damned baby never stops crying.’ He scowled at Harry.

Helen picked him up and shushed him, rocking him until he was asleep.

When she served some oat gruel, Robert flicked her hand with one fingertip and grimaced. ‘Your hands are all red and cracked. You look like a kitchen maid.’

When she brought him more gruel later in the day, he pushed the spoon away. ‘Why do you feed me this slop? I need some proper food if I’m to get well enough to work.’

At that her patience snapped and she turned on him. ‘Shut up, shut up,
shut up!
Don’t you dare complain to me!’

Someone thumped on the floor above them.

She spoke more quietly, but the tone of her voice was still anguished. ‘You're worse than a baby!

Lying there complaining! If you want better food, then give me some money to buy it, for I can afford nothing else. You won't eat well till you go out and earn something. I've nothing left -

nothing! - and you haven't even got a job to go on to! The company's changed hands.’ She gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. She had intended to wait until he was nearly recovered before telling him this.

‘Closed down! Why didn't you tell me before?’

‘You were too ill. I thought - I thought you were going to die.’ She fumbled her way round the bed, collapsed upon it next to him and buried her head in the pillow. ‘And I can't take any more, I can't.’

He realised matters were serious and tried to pull himself together. Her sobbing penetrated his awareness, so he patted her heaving shoulders and kept murmuring, ‘It'll be all right. We'll come about. You'll see. I'm definitely getting better now.’

Gradually her sobs stopped and her breathing deepened. Mercifully the baby had fallen asleep too. Robert lay there and thought things over. So he'd been that ill, eh? Like to die. Good thing he'd had her to look after him, then. He owed her something for that. He eased himself off the bed. Helen didn't wake, only rolled over and muttered in her sleep. There was little sign of beauty about her now. She was stick-thin, and her eyes had dark circles round them. Even her hair looked dull and lifeless. That's what marriage did to people, he thought grimly, took all the fun out of life. Gave them responsibilities they didn't want. He scowled at the sleeping baby. Stupid things, babies!

On legs that felt nearly boneless, he staggered over to the fly-specked mirror above the fireplace and studied his face. He looked even worse than she did. Not much sign of his good looks now. And he wouldn't get another acting job till he looked right again. He knew that as well as anyone. He had few illusions about his own acting capacities.

Feeling a sort of greasy nausea after even that minor exertion, he tottered back to the bed and flopped down on it. Look at him, couldn't even walk across the room! He’d definitely be dead if it wasn’t for her. At that moment began a conviction that was to last him the rest of his life, a conviction that with Helen to look after him, he could survive anything. She was - dash it, she really was - a sort of lucky piece for him. And she still had her money. Forty pounds wasn’t much, but it was steady.

The next day, Robert began a deliberate programme of self help. He got up several times to walk round the room, and sat for a while in a chair by the window, where he could get a bit of sun on his face. He always felt better when the sun shone.

‘Here,’ he said later. ‘You’d better go and pawn my signet ring.’ He always kept it as a last resort, and considered it another lucky piece, for he had never yet failed to win it back again. ‘And for heaven’s sake, bring back some proper food.’

‘But - I don’t know how to pawn things.’

‘I’ll tell you. It’s not hard.’

She looked across at Harry.

‘I’m quite capable of keeping an eye on the brat while you’re out.’

So she went and pawned the ring, then went on to the market to haggle over a piece of fish. She no longer enjoyed going to market, or felt a triumph when she picked up a bargain. It was merely something you had to do if you were to afford food. Furtively she picked up from the ground some pieces of spoiled fruit, bruised apples which still had good bits in them. These could be stewed for Harry. She saw a woman watching her scornfully and tears came to her eyes, but she didn't stop picking up the fruit. Harry had to be fed.

By the end of the week, Robert had recovered enough to insist on dressing himself in some of his best clothes and going out in the evening to meet up with a few kindred spirits and maybe take a hand of cards. ‘Only I shall need some money for a stake.’

How she dreaded hearing those words! She kept silent as he looked at her.

‘I know you've still got some a few coins hidden away, or you wouldn't have managed all these weeks. I've always known about your little hoards. Roxanne's idea? I thought so. You wouldn't have thought of it yourself. Well, I don't mind. Comes in useful sometimes to have a reserve.’

Her voice was cold and she felt as though she were speaking to a stranger. ‘I can't spare anything for your gambling, Robert. We need it all for food. You've got some money left from the ring. Use that.’

‘Not enough. And if I don't make some money, we won't have enough to pay the fares to London so that I can find another job.’

Obstinately she shook her head. The thought of him losing everything they owned in the world made her feel sick with horror.

‘If you don't give it to me, I'll tear your things apart until I find it! Where do you keep it?’ His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp tone to it and the look he gave her was equally sharp. As she made no move, he shrugged and took a step forward.

She glanced towards her work-box, glad she’d stitched the coins into the lining.

He laughed aloud and went to pick it up. ‘The money’s in here, isn't it?’

Desperately she tried to take the box off him, but he pushed her away and tipped the contents onto the floor. He fumbled round the lining till he felt the coins and laughed in her face as the silver christening spoon and her last three guineas fell out. She had held on to the spoon through thick and thin, for it was not hers to sell, it was Harry's.

‘Clever girl! Just what I need!’ Robert put the coins in his pocket, picked up the spoon and studied it, then saw the expression on her face. ‘No, I think we'll keep that for a real emergency.’ He tossed it on the floor at her feet. ‘Just in case.’

Picking up his hat, he sauntered towards the door. ‘I can feel the luck. It’s starting to throb through my veins. Don't wait up for me!’

Dry-eyed, Helen picked up the spoon and cradled it to her breast. ‘You're not having this,’ she muttered. ‘Never.’ After a few minutes, she gathered up the threads and pins and bits of ribbon Robert had scattered over the floor and sewed back the torn lining of her box. From time to time, her eyes turned to Harry. The mere sight of him was a comfort.

Only when she had finished and arranged all the sewing materials neatly inside the box again, did she speak her thoughts aloud. ‘I've not been clever enough! Roxanne was right. I can only rely on money from now on. And myself.’

When Harry awoke, she fed him, for he was now weaned and becoming very active, on a piece of bread and butter and the last of the stewed fruit. Then she played with him for an hour, until he fell asleep. She could always put aside her own grief or anger when Harry needed her, and she made sure that the child had a lot of attention and love, from his mother at least.

Afterwards she examined everything she owned, looking for hiding places for her money. There must be several places from now on, so that Robert could never again find it all. Her petticoats, of course, and the belly of the toy dog she had sewed for Harry, perhaps. Oh, yes, her hoard should be well-scattered from now on!

Robert came back in the early hours of the morning, flushed with success. He shook her awake and poured a pile of guineas on to the bed. ‘Didn't I tell you? Here, take back what you lent me and put it in your box. And take some more to pay for our rent and food. Only don't be mean with the food this week. We all need feeding up if we are to look our best for London. Now, go and put that sponge thing in. I need you.’

‘But Robert, I'm tired!’

He gripped her arm fiercely. ‘With or without the sponge. Your choice!’

She did as she was told, though she got no pleasure nowadays from this parody of love. She had long realised that a successful night brought him home with this urgent need upon him, while a bad patch left him uninterested in his wife's body. She had come to resent this blind need, which had nothing to do with love or tenderness, and was only a wild lusting for relief.

Chapter 5

The Perrimans went up to London the following week by stagecoach. The driver grumbled at the amount of luggage they had and charged them extra for it, after a few sharp words with Robert.

Harry, fretting at being kept captive upon his mother's lap, alternated between roaring with frustration, wriggling like an eel (to the annoyance of the other passengers) and sleeping like a golden-haired cherub. After one of their stops for food, he was sick all over his mother, so that for the rest of the journey the other passengers complained about the smell. By that time, Helen was too weary to care.

Robert took no part in anything to do with his son and didn’t address a single word to Helen unless she spoke to him. He might have been a complete stranger, just another traveller, and one who was very disapproving of such a fractious child at that.

In London, however, he brightened up and took charge again. He summoned a cab with one flick of the wrist, which put him in a better humour, then deposited his wife and son at a seedy inn, where he seemed to be known.

When he had changed his linen and smartened himself up, he said casually, ‘I’ll have to leave you for a while.’ He was already moving towards the door without waiting for a response.

Helen moved over to bar the way. ‘Robert, wait! Where are you going?’

‘I need to go out, make a few inquiries about finding work.’

He didn’t look like a man searching for employment. He radiated what Helen thought of as his eager gambler’s air. But it would do no good to say that. He’d only turn sulky. When he had gone, she sighed and turned her attention to Harry. After cleaning him up, she took him downstairs to the dining room where she bought herself a meal and shared it with him. There she tried and failed to make friends with the landlady, a shrewish woman whose stringy body spoke the truth about her own cooking even before Helen had sampled it.

Back in their dingy bedchamber, she also tried and failed to keep Harry quiet, expecting Robert back at any minute. In the end, she took the child out for a walk to distract and tire him.

Not that he could walk properly yet, but he loved to go out and see things. He was heavy to carry and she was still run-down after nursing her husband, so when she returned, she was feeling more tired and depressed than ever. But at least the fresh air made Harry sleep, so she could rest.

She had bought some bread while she was out, secreting it under her cloak so that the landlady wouldn’t notice it. She ate a slice dry for her supper, not feeling able to summon up the energy even to toast it on the fire, to add a bit of taste.

Robert didn’t come back at all that night and she kept waking up, worrying that he had deserted her and the boy. That she could even think such a thing showed, she thought despondently, how far apart they now were, how very unsuited. And, saddest of all, she felt that she could hardly blame him if he did desert them. He was the last man on earth to settle down happily to marriage and raising a family. She realised that now. The ignorant girl who had tumbled headlong in love with a handsome face now seemed like another person to her.

And yet, such benefits as this hasty marriage had brought had been to her. She had escaped from her family and the threat of marriage to Mr Wintermaine, and for a time had been very happy indeed. And whatever happened, she had her son. All Robert had gained was two extra mouths to feed, a responsibility he’d never sought for two other lives.

She wondered if he’d ever really loved her. She was certain he hadn’t. Had what she felt for him been love? No, in the dark hours of the night she decided it had been more a craving for affection on her side, something she had never known from her family.

She wondered, as she sometimes did, if she should have obeyed her parents and married Mr Wintermaine. At least with him she’d have had a comfortable life and her children would have had a roof over their heads and good food in their bellies.

Yes, but they might have resembled Mr Wintermaine
, said the stubborn voice which sometimes spoke inside her head when she tried to lie to herself,
and then you might not have
loved them as you love Harry!

She felt absolutely sure that the curate’s children couldn’t possibly have been as beautiful as Harry, so the fantasy of a secure home never lasted for more than a minute or two. She had made her bed and must now lie in it.

In the morning things seemed a little brighter, the landlady a trifle less surly and even the food more palatable. Her gown had dried overnight and the smell had gone from it now, so Robert wouldn’t feel ashamed to be with her. She wouldn’t have bothered to buy breakfast for herself, but the landlady clearly expected her to spend some money and besides, Harry was hungry.

As she sat in the busy common room of the inn, watching the other travellers - a seedy, furtive lot - Helen told herself she’d been foolish to fret away the night. Of course Robert wouldn’t have deserted them. Of course he would come back today.

When they went back up to their room, she washed her hair and some of Harry's clothes, bribing the chambermaid to fetch up some water. Then she played with her son and tried to wait patiently for her husband to return.

It was hard to be patient, though, when she was eager to get out and see something of London! When worries would keep creeping into her mind.