Emma (16 page)

The pub he had chosen was noisy and smelled of stale beer. My stomach turned as soon as we went in. I had been feeling queasy the last couple of mornings but hadn’t yet been sick. I’d hoped the sickness wouldn’t start until we got home. This
was
supposed to be our honeymoon. Richard wouldn’t want constant reminders of the child I was carrying.

‘What do you want?’

‘Oh, just lemonade, please.’

I watched as he went off to the bar. There was a crowd and he had to wait to be served. My stomach heaved. The smell in here was awful. Oh, damn! I was going to be sick. I got up hastily and ran to the ladies’ cloakroom.

I was sick twice. I felt terrible as I came out of the toilet and looked at myself in the streaky wall mirror. What a mess! My face was white and my hair was wet at the front. I splashed water on my face and hair, trying to get rid of the horrible stench of vomit that seemed to cling about me.

It was several minutes before I felt well enough to go back to the bar. I was walking towards the table I’d left minutes earlier when a young man deliberately stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, and had a cheeky grin.

‘Where are you going, darling?’

‘Please, let me pass.’

‘Supposing I don’t want to?’ He leered at me, obviously a little drunk. ‘You on your own then? Or have you got a friend?’

I tried not to laugh. I wasn’t in the least intimidated by him. His manner reminded me of a boisterous puppy, who was a little too bold.

‘I’m with my hus—’

‘Emma!’ Richard’s voice was harsh. I swung round, seeing the angry look in his eyes, my heart sinking. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘I had to go to the cloakroom,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry if you wondered where I’d gone.’

Someone had just taken our table. I looked round as the young man who had accosted me melted into the crowd. It was hot in here, so stuffy. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

‘Do you think we could take our drinks outside?’ I asked. ‘I’m not feeling well.’

Richard looked at me sullenly. ‘We might as well, since you’ve let someone else take our table. Why you couldn’t have waited until I came back, I don’t know.’

I didn’t feel like explaining. He was in one of his odd moods again, but at the moment all I could think about was escape. My head was swimming. If I didn’t get some air I would faint.

We went out and crossed the road, finding a wooden bench at the edge of a green which overlooked the sea. There was a stiff breeze that evening and the waves were quite rough, crested with a yellowish foam. I breathed deeply. The sickness passed and I began to feel better.

I looked at my drink and frowned. ‘This is port and lemon. I wanted lemonade.’

‘You drank enough of the stuff at the dance in Ely,’ Richard muttered. ‘I thought it might put you in a good mood for later.’

I turned away. I didn’t want the drink and I wasn’t in the mood for making love, especially after the way he’d spoken to me in the pub. I put the glass down on the bench beside me, untouched.

‘Drink it. I didn’t pay good money for you to waste it.’

‘You shouldn’t have bought it. I didn’t ask you to.’

‘No, of course not. You didn’t ask me to marry you – but I did.’ I caught the bitter note in his voice and turned to stare at him. He was so angry! ‘Drink it or I’ll pour it down your throat.’

‘What’s the matter with you? I’ve told you I don’t want it. I’ve already been sick – this would make me sick again.’

‘I said drink it!’ He picked up the glass and thrust it at me, spilling a few drops on my white blouse. ‘Get it down you.’

I hesitated, then drank the contents of the glass straight down, replacing the empty glass on the bench. I got up and started to walk away from him.

‘Hey! Where do you think you’re going?’

I kept walking, ignoring him, though my heart hammered wildly.

‘I asked you where the hell you think you’re going?’ Richard had run after me and caught my arm. He swung me round to face him. He was livid with rage, eyes glittering in the light of the street lamps. My heart began to race with fear. ‘You little whore! Do you think I’m blind? Do you think I didn’t see you making eyes at that bloke just now?’

‘What man?’ I was astonished. ‘You mean the one who spoke to me?’ I laughed at the ridiculous accusation. ‘You can’t mean it? He was just being silly.’

‘I won’t stand for you making a fool of me!’

Richard’s arm went back. I recoiled as he hit me across the face, almost sending me flying.

‘Here, mate!’ someone shouted. ‘What’s all this about? That ain’t the way to treat a lady!’

Two young men had stopped to remonstrate with him. Richard swung round on them, clearly in the mood for a fight.

‘What the hell is it to do with you?’ he yelled. ‘If I want to give her a good hiding, I will!’

‘Now then … now then,’ the first man taunted, obviously a little the worse for drink himself. ‘No call for all this. If you want to hit someone pick on me. I’m more your size.’

I stared in horror as Richard threw a punch at him.

‘No, please don’t,’ I cried. ‘Don’t fight.’

The man Richard had punched shoved him away, then his mate joined in. They were tall, well-built men, working men with strong backs and large fists. Richard tried throwing punches at each of them in turn, but he was caught between them as they jostled and shoved. Then one of them stuck his foot out and tripped him. Richard went down hard. One of the men kicked him in the ribs, but there was the sound of shouting and a whistle being blown further down the promenade. The two strangers looked at one another and took off, laughing as they ran across the green and disappeared down the steps that led to the beach.

Richard got to his feet a little unsteadily. I went to him at once, looking at him anxiously.

‘Are you all right?’

‘No thanks to you.’

‘Richard, don’t!’ I said. ‘Please don’t.’

‘Are you all right, sir?’ The policeman had reached us. ‘I saw two of them attacking you. Did they rob you? Was it your wallet they were after?’

‘It’s all right,’ Richard said. ‘They didn’t take anything. I think they had been drinking. They insulted my wife and picked a fight with me.’

‘We get that sort sometimes,’ the policeman said, shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘Would you like me to take you to a doctor, sir?’

‘No, thanks. I’ll be all right. My wife and I were just on our way back to the hotel, weren’t we, Emma?’

‘Yes.’ I bit my lip, unable to look at the officer as I lied. ‘I can look after my husband, sir. But it was a good thing you came when you did.’

‘I usually walk this way at about this time.’ He glanced across the road at the pub. ‘Gets a bit rowdy there now and then. My advice is to stay away from it in future. Take care of yourselves, sir – and madam. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

‘Thanks. We shall,’ Richard said, and took my arm. ‘Come on, love. We’ll get back to the hotel.’

We walked in silence. When we reached the hotel, I went straight to the bathroom. Richard’s ring had caught my mouth but it wasn’t bleeding, though I thought it might swell by morning. I held a flannel under the cold tap and pressed it against my cheek, then went back to the bedroom. Richard had taken off his shirt and was looking at himself in the mirror.

‘I’ll be black and blue in the morning,’ he muttered. ‘Damned lucky they didn’t kick my ribs in. I’d have been off work for a couple of weeks at least.’

‘You shouldn’t have tried to hit him, Richard. Not when there were two of them.’

‘What was I supposed to do – let them tell me what I could do with my own wife?’ He glared at me. ‘If you hadn’t behaved like a slut, it wouldn’t have happened.’

‘I wasn’t making eyes at that man. For goodness’ sake, Richard! I’d just been sick twice in the toilet. I certainly didn’t feel like flirting – and he was only a kid anyway.’

‘Prefer a man, do you?’

As he moved towards me, I flinched. Was he going to hit me again? He frowned as he saw my reaction, then took the flannel from me, touching the small abrasion on my mouth.

‘Did I do that?’

‘You know you did.’

‘I’m sorry.’ The look in his eyes told me what was on his mind. He wanted me. ‘I mean it. You didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have called you a whore either. I’m sorry, Emma.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. I’m not like that, Richard. I know I made a mistake with him, but …’

He touched my hair, letting it run through his fingers. ‘You know I love you, Emma. I’m not much with words, and sometimes I lose my temper – but I care about you in my way.’

Did he love me? Really love me? Perhaps in his own fashion, but he had an odd way of showing it sometimes. Maybe he would have been different if I had never been with Paul, never fallen for another man’s child. I would never be sure about that, and it was too late to change things. I was his wife now. I had to make our marriage work somehow. If I could just help him to forget that I had been with another man, we might learn to be happy together.

My mother had suffered the consequences of a man’s terrible jealousy. I was determined that I would not make her mistakes. Life wasn’t always what we hoped it would be, but if I tried I could find a kind of happiness with Richard. It wouldn’t be perfect, not the kind of loving relationship I had hoped for – but how many women found that?

‘Let’s just forget what happened. Be nice, Richard, that’s all—’

He stopped me with a kiss. It was the kind of kiss he had given me on our wedding night, warm and tender, teasing a response from me. I was still angry and wanted to push him away, but I couldn’t. My body was swaying into his, the desire swirling inside me despite my resentment at the way he had treated me earlier. I wanted him and hated him both at the same time. My betraying body was calling out for his as he swept me up in his arms, carrying me to the bed.

‘You want me, Emma,’ he whispered close to my ear. ‘You always did but you wouldn’t admit it. Don’t deny it, don’t fight me. I’ll be good to you, I promise. I’m sorry. Sorry I’ve got such a bad temper on me, but it won’t happen again. I promise.’

I let myself be swept away by the passion he was so skilful at arousing in me. There were tears on my cheeks even as I heard myself cry out in pleasure.

He was lying. I knew he would hurt me whenever he was in the mood, and afterwards he would make love to me like this. I was beginning to think he actually enjoyed hurting me, humbling me: it aroused him.

Afterwards, when Richard was asleep, I rose from the bed and went to the window. I listened to the sound of the waves beating against the shore and felt the sting of humiliation.

I believed my passionate response to him was part of the reason behind his sullen moods. He blamed me for responding to his lovemaking. It was because of the child I was carrying, of course.

He had married me knowing I was carrying another man’s bastard, but he would never forgive me.

‘A letter came for you,’ Mother said, taking it from her apron pocket. It was the morning after my homecoming, and the first time we’d had a chance to be alone. ‘I put it to one side for you, Emma. The postmark is London.’

‘I expect it’s from Paul’s cousin.’ I glanced at it without real interest. ‘I’ll read it later.’ I hadn’t expected Jonathan to keep on writing now that I was married, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Richard wouldn’t like it if he knew Paul was sending me money through his cousin.

‘So how was it?’ Mother gave me an anxious look. ‘You seemed a bit quiet last night, love.’

‘I was probably tired,’ I admitted. ‘I liked Yarmouth. It was nice being at the sea, but I’m glad to be home.’

Richard had been up early that morning, seemingly eager to help with the shop before he went off to work. He had been in a cheerful mood when Mother served him a cooked breakfast, and I was hoping things might be easier between us now we were home.

‘Is your mouth a little swollen?’ Mother asked with a frown.

‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ I lied. ‘We were acting about on the sea front the other night and Richard’s ring caught me, that’s all. It doesn’t hurt.’

She appeared to accept the excuse. Richard had been so nice to everyone the previous evening, handing out the presents we’d bought and enthusing over the holiday. He had smiled at me a lot, and put his arm around my waist as if he really cared about me – and perhaps he did in his own way. There was no point in telling my mother that my husband had hit me; it would only upset her, and there was nothing either of us could do.

I thought about my marriage as I went down to the shop. I didn’t love Richard; I wasn’t exactly happy, but I wasn’t as miserable as I had been when I’d first realized Paul had deserted me. If I’d never met Paul, would I have come to think of Richard as a husband in time? I’d always told my mother I didn’t like him, but maybe underneath there
had
been an attraction. I supposed I had been flattered by his attentions, even though I had denied it. I had been very naive, very innocent, and I’d had to do a lot of growing up very quickly. Now that I knew what being married was all about, I had changed.

I thought about the night he had hit me, then made love to me. It was probably because Richard had realized why I was feeling sick that he’d lashed out at me the way he had, and I couldn’t blame him for being upset over the fact that I was carrying another man’s child. He had married me despite it, but I couldn’t expect him to welcome the idea.

Father nodded to me as I began to tidy the shop shelves, which looked as if they needed some attention. I thought his eyes held a look of satisfaction, as though he was pleased with the way things had turned out.

‘That’s right, Emma,’ he said. ‘We could do with a bit of a tidy-up. I’ve been too busy to bother while you were away.’

‘Are you feeling better now?’ I asked casually, as I would about anyone I knew who had been ill.

‘Yes, thank you. It was just a bit of a stomach upset. Pity it happened at the wedding, though. I must admit I did feel queer that day.’

‘You should have gone to the doctor.’

‘No need.’ He hesitated, giving me an odd look. ‘It’s nice of you to bother. No hard feelings, Emma? Richard is good to you, isn’t he? I knew he was fond of you. I was right, wasn’t I?’