They chatted about local events and Edwin’s work. Edwin had a go at fitting in some of the jigsaw pieces. Later, they all had cups of cocoa and everyone was yawning. Edwin got up.
‘Best be getting back.’ Gwen saw the warmth and approval in her parents’ eyes as they looked up at their son-in-law to be. Edwin, she thought, was the one thing she had ever really done right. She felt very low suddenly. The only way she ever seemed able to get along with her parents was to act as a version of herself that they had decided upon – pretty, biddable and conventional.
Mr and Mrs Purdy stayed tactfully in the back room as she went to see Edwin out. He put his coat on, and as soon as the sitting-room door was closed and they were alone he took Gwen in his arms.
‘Oh, I’ve been waiting for this!’ His good-natured face beamed down at her. It was a thoroughly English sporty face with a pink complexion and kindly blue eyes. ‘I miss you dreadfully, you know that, don’t you?’
‘I miss you too,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘But it’s fun being able to write. And it’s not for long.’
Edwin pulled her close and held his face against hers with a sound of pleasure. ‘It’s still far
too
long! It feels pretty bleak around here without you. I’m counting the days.’
She drew back and looked up at him. ‘Me too.’
He put his mouth close to her ear. ‘How about coming out into the porch for a moment?’
Sheltered from the rain, they kissed, holding each other close. ‘That’s my girl,’ Edwin murmured, his hands stroking her sides. ‘Those lovely curves!’ Then, very self-controlled, he drew back. ‘Must go.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘But we’ve got tomorrow. I’ll see you in the morning, darling.’
He stooped to put on his bicycle clips on, then went round to retrieve his bike. She waved as he swerved off along the road, then stood for a moment thoughtfully, looking at the empty path. Was she counting the days? she asked herself. She turned back into her parents’ warm, orderly house, preferring not to answer that question.
They walked out to the hills the next day. The rain had stopped, the air was damp and mild and ragged clouds moved swiftly across the sky. As soon as they set out, Edwin took Gwen’s hand, smiling down at her. They were both well wrapped up, Edwin in plus fours and thick socks, Gwen in slacks and both in layers of winter woollies under their coats. Edwin wore a little knapsack with a Thermos and their sandwiches in it.
‘Got you to myself at last!’ he said.
Gwen laughed. She felt rested and more optimistic this morning, setting out with Edwin’s big hand wrapped round hers. They squelched uphill through the mud, dark trees to one side of them. Edwin told her news about his work, the latest on some of his parishioners. There were people he was worried about: he had misgivings about his preaching. Was it relevant to anything? Once Edwin got talking there was no stopping him. She had always been his audience.
‘Tell you what I have done.’ He reached for his wallet. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About war and so on. There was a little meeting here last week – look – I’m going to send this off.’
He held out a little buff-coloured card. Printed along the top were the words, ‘I renounce war and will never support or sanction another.’
Gwen frowned. ‘Is this the white poppy people?’
‘It’s Dick Sheppard’s Peace Movement. Now there’s a priest setting a real example. He’s quite right,’ Edwin was becoming emphatic. ‘The whole thing
is
lunacy. The way things are going we’ll be into another war soon. And it’s utterly un-Christian! How can we ever justify such violence against other human beings? It says very clearly in Micah that we must beat our swords into ploughshares. Look at the Great War – do we want that again?’
‘No, of course not.’
Edwin put the card away. ‘Sorry, darling.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Am I keeping on?’
‘No – it’s quite all right. I entirely agree with you. But you can step out of the pulpit now.’
He laughed, helping her over a stile. They climbed, chatting, to the top of the hill, where they rested, looking over towards the dark peaks of the Malverns. Edwin hugged her from behind, arms wrapped round her shoulders.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ His mouth was close to her ear.
‘Umm,’ Gwen agreed. For some reason, she found herself thinking about Lily Drysdale, wondering what she did at the weekend. She imagined her moving briskly from house to house, asking for clothes for her charges. At the thought of returning to Birmingham on Tuesday evening she felt a pang of dread and excitement mixed.
‘We’ll be able to come up here every week, if we want to,’ Edwin was saying. He turned her round, looking deeply into her eyes and she could see the longing in his. ‘When we’re Mr and Mrs Shackleton.’
‘Reverend and Mrs,’ she corrected him, teasingly.
‘I’m so lucky, my love.’ He looked down at her and she could see he was moved. She smiled back, touched by the look in his eyes. Edwin was so good, so true and lovely to her. She loved him, she was sure . . . wasn’t she? How was anyone supposed to be sure about love? In church they sometimes said love was more about actions than just emotions. About caring for people: doing the right thing. But wasn’t it possible to feel more than this? Edwin took her smile as encouragement and leaned down, gently fastening his lips on hers. His tongue searched her mouth longingly and Gwen kissed him back, feeling excitement rising in her, and a great surge of relief that she could feel this way. Edwin’s desire, the constant conflict between it and his sense of duty to restrain himself until they were married, could move her more than anything. His hands pressed her close and she shut her eyes and ran her hands up Edwin’s strong back.
It’s all right
, she thought, with a sense of peace.
It’s going to be all right
. Then, abruptly, he pulled away, shamefaced.
‘Oh God, darling. I’m sorry. I mustn’t.’ He was blushing. ‘I don’t want you to feel that I’m – well, I don’t know. Taking advantage – or anything like that.’
‘It’s all right. I don’t. I know you wouldn’t dream of it.’ Released from his embrace, she felt suddenly cold.
Nine
They were kissing. She had never, ever felt like this before. Even as she saw his lips moving closer, her body seemed to shiver into life as if all her skin had been scraped raw. She was trembling, the touch of his hands throbbing through her, leaving her helpless, only able to surrender to sensation, the hard press of his lips and body against hers as their touching became more intimate. What had come over Edwin? was all she could think. Over herself, for that matter! The feelings became mingled gradually with a sound, a siren, and as sleep slid away and she surfaced into the day, she realized it was the ‘bull’ from a nearby factory. Desolate, she tried to hold on to the images, the pleasure of it. But it was fading and he withdrew from her, leaving her bereft. As she glimpsed the face receding away in the dream, her heartbeat quickened even further with shock.
She sat up in bed hugging her knees, a burning blush spreading all over her.
‘What on earth is the matter with me?’ Imagine if anyone else could see inside her head!
As he withdrew, she had seen a tough, dark-eyed face, black curls. Not Edwin at all! She had been making love with Daniel Fernandez.
The dream was so vivid it was hard to shake off. Glimpses of it kept coming back to her through the day, disturbingly real. It happened in the middle of a spelling test. The children were bent over their books, Ron Parks with his tongue stuck out in concentration as usual. Gwen looked at Lucy Fernandez, her neat, intelligent demeanour. Her spellings were almost always all right.
‘The next word is “ashamed”,’ she instructed them. ‘That can be a tricky one.’
Lucy’s dark hair made her think immediately of her brother and again a hot flush went through her.
For heaven’s sake
! her thoughts protested.
This is awful!
There must be something wrong with her, having these depraved thoughts about a man she had only met once in her life.
Dinner time was dismal now, without Millie. She had left because she felt so unwell, and she also knew that it would not be long before her pregnancy began to show and she didn’t want to have to face the disgrace. But with no Millie to grumble to and share her lunch with, the staffroom felt a lonely place. Mr Gaffney was always kind and would stop for a little chat, and some of the others were reasonably friendly. But today it was Lily Drysdale who came and sat beside her, a worried expression on her face.
‘Hello, dear . . .’ Lily paused, frowning, stirring her tea. What was she wearing? Gwen thought, trying not to smile. She looked quite unlike everyone else, who seemed to wear the drabbest possible clothes to school. Lily had on a neat frock which gently swathed her rounded body, but it had unusually wide sleeves, and it was a rich blood red with purple binding round the neck and sleeves and a purple belt at the waist. Gwen was about to mention that she liked the colour but Lily plunged straight in.
‘I’m very worried – about one of your boys.’
‘My form?’
Lily nodded, swallowing a mouthful of tea. One of the particular things about Lily Drysdale was that, although she was in charge of Form Two, she seemed to know every child in the school and take an interest in them. She also seemed to find out things about them that Gwen had no idea of.
‘Joseph Phillips,’ Lily said. ‘Has he come to school today? I haven’t seen him.’
‘Yes – he was here when I took the morning register. It’s the afternoons when he often seems to disappear. The School Board man has been round but . . .’
Lily was shaking her head. As she held her cup Gwen saw that her fingernails were all blue underneath today. ‘There’s something wrong there. Have you seen the state of the child? And his sister – Lena. She’s in my form, of course. The girl doesn’t look as if her hair’s been touched for weeks. She’s filthy and I don’t like the sound of that cough. She’s in a bad state. And the boy – they look half starved.’
‘Oh dear,’ Gwen said helplessly. She felt put to shame by Lily’s vigilance. Now she mentioned it, Lena Phillips did look ill, poor little waif. And Joey’s attendance had been patchy. There had been several days before the half-term break when he had not come in at all. He always looked thin and pale. ‘I feel a bit unsure how to judge what’s normal,’ she said.
‘A child who looks as if they’re wasting away is something to be looked into in my book.’ Lily spoke robustly and Gwen felt even more foolish.
‘See if Joseph comes in this afternoon. If not, tell me. I think I’ll pay the Phillipses a visit.’
Joey was absent when Gwen took the second register.
She felt uneasy as she took the afternoon classes, and when they broke for a cup of tea at three o’clock she told Lily Drysdale that Joey had disappeared again.
‘Lena’s still here,’ Lily said. ‘I’ll take her home at the end of the day and see if I can find out what the situation is. They live on one of the yards at the far end of the street.’ She looked very directly at Gwen. ‘My dear, you may not appreciate quite what a struggle life is for some people in this area. Perhaps you should come with me.’
Gwen thought of Daniel Fernandez’s challenging eyes.
Perhaps it’s time you did . . .
he had said.
You don’t know anything about life
, the words implied. And it was true. What did she know about the way people really lived around here? She felt put on her mettle.
‘I’d be glad to,’ she told Lily.
An hour later Form Four put away their drawings of Roman soldiers and hurried out of the classroom. Only two children remained: Lucy Fernandez always waited until last so as not to get pushed over in the rush, and with her was Alice Wilson. Lily had told Gwen she would meet her by the gate. Gwen was nervous. She put her coat on, glad of the two girls’ presence to distract her. They all walked out at Lucy’s slow dot-and-carry-one pace.
‘Are you feeling all right today, Lucy?’
‘Yes, Miss.’ Lucy glanced up at her with a shy smile.
Outside it was bitterly cold, the sky an iron grey. Gwen saw that there was no sign of Lily at the gate and she stopped the children just outside the door. ‘Alice? You did give my note to your mother, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, Miss Purdy,’ she whispered.
As well as informing Mrs Wilson that Alice had nits, Gwen’s note told her that her daughter was evidently very short-sighted and needed to have her eyes tested.
‘And what did she say?’ Gwen asked gently.
Alice’s face seemed to close over. ‘She did my hair. I don’t think I’ve got nits any more.’
‘Well, that’s very good.’ Gwen smiled. ‘And what about your eyes?’
Alice’s gaze dropped to the ground again.
Gwen was puzzled. Alice was a clean, well-dressed child. She looked as if she came from the sort of home where she was being well looked after.
‘Alice?’ she prompted.
‘I don’t know, Miss.’
‘Well, you ask your mother to go to the doctor and get your eyes tested. Once you’ve got some specs you’ll be able to see the blackboard – you’ll be amazed how different life will be!’
Though Alice tried to hide it, her eyes filled with tears.
‘Has no one suggested you see about your eyes before?’
‘No, Miss.’
Lucy Fernandez stood beside Alice, watching with sympathetic eyes. Gwen felt perturbed and wondered if Lucy knew what was behind the sense of melancholy that seemed to come from Alice.
It’s not my job to get involved, I’m only their teacher!
she told herself. But somehow she couldn’t help feeling for them.
They had walked across the playground to the gate and were saying a shy goodbye.
‘Miss Purdy! Good afternoon.’
The voice was unmistakable: Daniel Fernandez.
He came to the school gate, limping on his crutch, his leg still in plaster. Once again his expression was amiable but with the smile she could sense challenge, something close to mockery. Was it because she was fair-haired and blue-eyed, Gwen thought irritably to herself. Everyone seemed to assume she had no sense and couldn’t think seriously about anything!