Love or Duty (17 page)

‘Have you stayed here before then?’

James hesitated. ‘I just meant that standards in general are slipping.’

‘I don’t expect they can get the staff now. Everyone’s either been called up or volunteered for war work.’

‘It’s easy to blame the war. But—’

A knock came at the door and a timid maid appeared carrying cleaning materials.

‘In there,’ James barked. ‘And make sure you do a good job this time.’ He followed her and stood by the door watching as she scrubbed at the bath.

Louise gazed out the window, hot with embarrassment. She’d had no idea that James was so fastidious. She thought about Polly who had been willing if sometimes a bit slapdash. What would James have thought of her
housekeeping
skills? Thank goodness the poor girl no longer worked for them. She hoped he wouldn’t be too critical of her own standards. Cooking and running around after Dora, as well as her voluntary work, left little time to worry about the layers of dust in the seldom used rooms of Steyne House.

With a pang she remembered that the hospital had closed and she no longer had a job. When she was fit again she’d have to find something else to do for the war effort until she was called up. She had avoided being drafted into the forces so far due to having a relative to care for and the fact that she was already working at the hospital. But there were rumours that married women would soon be required to work in factories, on the land or in the forces. Besides, if James was called up and had to go away she’d need something to fill her time.

‘That’ll do.’ James’s voice roused her from her thoughts and she stood up as the maid scuttled out of the room.

‘I think I’ll have a bath before dinner. I got so hot and sticky in the car.’ She took her wash bag out of her suitcase.

‘Aren’t you going to unpack? I thought you’d have done it by now.’

‘I want a bath and a change of clothes first. There’s plenty of time. We are on holiday after all,’ Louise protested.

‘All right. But I don’t like a mess. Hurry up then. You can do it while I’m in the bathroom.’

As Louise lay in the scented water she wondered how many other men would have worried about unpacking or cleaning the bath on the first day of their honeymoon. Where was the romantic James who had wooed her with chocolate and flowers?

She sighed and told herself he was probably as tired as she was. After all, he had worked hard while she was convalescing, supervising the removal of his belongings from the bachelor flat, rearranging the rooms at home, as well as going in to the office each day.

They would have a leisurely meal in the dining room, perhaps a quiet stroll long the seafront, then back to the hotel. Her mind shied away from picturing the next scene. She wasn’t a naïve young girl. She knew what to expect and she tried to reassure herself that everything would be all right.

A loud knock on the bathroom door startled her and she sat up, splashing water over the edge of the bath. She climbed out and wrapped herself in the towelling bathrobe that hung behind the door. ‘Just coming,’ she called.

When she opened the door James pushed past her. ‘You took your time. And just look at the mess.’

‘Have your bath, James. I’ll clean up afterwards.’

‘I told you, I don’t like mess.’

Louise’s lips tightened. ‘I said I’d do it afterwards. I’m going to get dressed now and unpack.’ She turned her back and he grabbed her arm, swinging her round to face him.

She flinched at the look on his face and he quickly let go, giving a
shamefaced
smile, like a naughty schoolboy caught out in some mischief. ‘Sorry, darling. I’m a bit on edge. Tired, I expect.’

Louise forced a smile. ‘Me too. Do you want to go down for dinner, or shall we order room service?’

He pulled her towards him and kissed her cheek. ‘We’ll go down. I’ll feel better after freshening up.’

He closed the bathroom door and Louise finished drying herself and put on a fresh blouse and skirt. She brushed her hair and, although she didn’t usually use much make-up, she decided a little rouge would improve her looks. She was still very pale after her illness and she wanted to look her best.

James must have thought so. Before they went down to dinner he looked her up and down, smiling. ‘My lovely bride,’ he said, tucking her hand into his arm.

During dinner he seemed to have recovered his usual happy-go-lucky manner, laughing and teasing her, paying compliments and raising his glass to toast his ‘lovely bride’. As they ate dessert he took her hand, caressing each finger in turn. Too soon, the meal came to an end, but as they stood up to leave the dining room, James said, ‘That bloke over there’s been giving you the eye all evening. I’ve a good mind to go over and give him a piece of my mind.’

Louise clutched his arm. ‘Oh please don’t. I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm.’

‘Maybe.’ James pursed his lips and his hand came up to wipe some of the rouge off her cheek. ‘Perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed you if you hadn’t plastered your face with this stuff.’

Louise was shocked and for a moment she wasn’t sure how to respond. She gave a little sob. ‘I made myself up for you, James. I wanted to look nice for you.’ She must have said the right thing. His hand fell to his side and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

‘That’s all right then,’ he said.

‘Shall we go up?’ Louise’s voice was steady although she was trembling inside.

‘You go, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ll just have a nightcap and follow you later.’

She smiled and turned away, pleased at the respite. His swift changes of mood had unnerved her. He’d never behaved like this before. Was it just tiredness or nerves? Was he as anxious as she was about the coming night?

She undressed slowly and removed her make-up, listening for James’s footsteps. After half an hour she got into bed, eyes straining towards the door. Eventually, tiredness overwhelmed her and she slept.

The room was in darkness when she woke with a start, feeling a weight on her body, hands fumbling at her nightdress. She started to struggle until, fully awake, she realized it was James – her husband.

‘James, stop, please …’ she said.

‘You should have waited for me. It’s our wedding night. How could you fall asleep?’

‘But Dr Tate said….’ Louise had thought James would give her more time. She had never dreamt that he would leap on her like an animal while she slept.

‘Sod that old buffer. What does he know? You’re my wife so….’ He grabbed at her breast, twisting her nipple.

Louise gasped and bit her lip.

‘There, you see, I knew you liked it really.’

Louise did not like it; she endured it. It was nothing like she’d imagined. Where was the romance, the love? At last he was satisfied and he rolled away, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately. She didn’t sleep at all, staring into the darkness and cursing her foolishness for allowing herself to be talked into a marriage without love. She’d convinced herself that liking and respect were enough. Too late she realized that, after his behaviour tonight as well as earlier in the dining room, she did not even like James, much less respect him.

L
ouise leaned on the sink while she waited for the kettle to boil. She was so tired but she dared not go to bed yet. Dora was already asleep and James was still out. She’d been married for almost a year and she’d never been so unhappy. But she only had herself to blame and she must make the best of it. If only there was someone she could talk things over with. Even if she felt able to confide in Dora, her stepmother would tell her she was being silly. But then, James only ever showed his charming side to her, sitting on the side of the bed, holding her hand and feeding her chocolate.

She could write to Sarah, of course, but her sister must be fed up with her outpourings by now. That’s probably why she hardly ever replied to her letters. Louise sighed. How she missed the flighty, fun-loving – if sometimes selfish – Sarah.

If only James had been called up like most of the other young men in the town, she thought, immediately chiding herself for her wickedness. Of course, she didn’t want anything to happen to him, but at least she’d have some respite from his carping, his insistence that everything be done his way.

She couldn’t imagine what the medical condition could be that had exempted him from military service. He had declined to enlighten her and, although she’d tentatively asked the doctor, he had pleaded patient
confidentiality
. ‘You must ask him yourself, my dear,’ he’d said.

Louise was sure that, like her, the doctor didn’t really think there was anything wrong. He had unbent sufficiently to tell her that he hadn’t
examined
James himself. ‘Your husband visited his own doctor,’ he said. ‘Whatever he put on the certificate ensured that he didn’t have to go through an army medical.’

James certainly showed no sign of illness or disability and since wriggling out of conscription he’d become an air raid warden. He was often away at night, patrolling the town to make sure blackout regulations were enforced or manning the ARP post.

Louise enjoyed the respite his absences gave her but even when he wasn’t there she couldn’t relax. He often came home unexpectedly as if hoping to catch her out in some imagined misdemeanour. And sometimes he’d invite friends for drinks and cards. They would stay very late, filling the drawing room with smoke and alcohol fumes. It wouldn’t be so bad if he let her go to bed. But he insisted she act as hostess, clearing the empty glasses and ashtrays, making coffee and polite conversation.

James would pull her to him, an arm firmly round her waist, laughing and telling his friends what a lucky blighter he was to have married her. At last they would leave, or more often fall asleep at the table and she would creep up to bed, listening for James’s step on the stairs.

Daytimes weren’t much better. She was constantly on edge, going over the house time and again to make sure everything was tidy and clean. James had an eagle eye for a spot of dust or a stray cobweb. He wasn’t violent but there was an underlying menace in his eyes and his cutting words could reduce her to tears. Then he would be all apologies and protestations of love. And that led to something else she would rather not think about.

His assaults on her body in the name of love were only endurable for the hope that they would produce what she most longed for – a child, someone of her own to love. But to her sorrow it hadn’t happened so far.

Dora seemed to blame Louise for not producing a son for James. ‘Most young women are pregnant within the first year of marriage,’ she said. ‘I fell for Sarah straight away. A son to follow on in the business would make James so happy.’

Louise had spoken to Dr Tate, wondering if there was something wrong with her. His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. ‘It will happen when it’s meant to, my dear,’ he said. ‘That fever last year left you completely washed out. It will take time to get your strength back.’

‘I’m still so tired all the time,’ Louise told him.

‘Not surprising is it? You’re looking after your stepmother and this big house, as well as getting used to married life. Not to mention coping with rationing and all the changes the war has brought. Of course you’re tired.’ He had given her a tonic but she didn’t think it was doing any good.

She sighed, glancing at the clock. Would James be home for tea, or would he stay out till all hours? She never knew when to prepare a meal these days.

The kettle boiled but she ignored it, instead sitting down at the table and resting her chin on her hand. She thought about Sarah, wondering why she hadn’t replied to her last letter. She’s probably busy and the post is so
unreliable
anyway, she thought. Still, it was months since she’d heard from her and Dora was getting upset too.

Dora was another worry. She rarely left her room and Louise now had to help her to the bathroom and assist her in washing and undressing. Dr Tate had assured her that Dora had no physical illness but, apart from a brief spurt of energy while planning Louise’s wedding, she’d gone steadily downhill since Stanley’s death. It was as if everything was too much of an effort for her.

Now, as well as tensing for the sound of James’s key in the front door, Louise was constantly poised to rush upstairs in answer to her stepmother’s frantic ringing of the bell on her bedside table.

It was all too much and Louise dropped her head into her hands and allowed a slow tear to trickle down her cheek. She straightened and scrubbed at her face with a tea towel when she heard the front door open. She wouldn’t let James see how weak she was.

She busied herself preparing a tray, hoping he wouldn’t come into the kitchen. Although she was listening intently, she jumped when he approached, running his hands down her body. ‘And how is my lovely wife this evening?’ he asked, his words slurred.

She moved away and reached into the cupboard for a saucer. ‘I thought you might be hungry. Or have you eaten already?’

‘I’m hungry, yes – for you, my dear.’ He made a grab for her and the saucer slid out of her hands to shatter on the tiled floor.

She stooped quickly to gather up the pieces.

‘Leave that,’ he said. ‘We’ve got better things to do.’ He grabbed her wrist and dragged her towards the stairs.

‘Please, James. I’m so tired,’ she protested.

‘You can sleep afterwards,’ he said, pushing her in front of him.

At least it was over soon and James slumped down beside her, snoring heavily and breathing whisky fumes into her face. She turned away, her thoughts in turmoil. Why, oh why, had she not been strong enough to speak up in time to stop this farce? Why had she drifted along hoping everything would be all right? And why had she not realized before that, in spite of his superficial charm, James was a bully who was determined to have his own way? As she had once again discovered, it was useless to try and stand up for herself. She only hoped Dora had taken one of her pills and had remained oblivious to the sounds coming from the bedroom.

Determined not to cry, Louise attempted to console herself with the thought that this time she might be pregnant.

She was woken suddenly by James shaking her shoulder. ‘Come on, you lazy cow. Move.’

She struggled upright, confused as she realized it was morning.

‘Just look at the time. I’ve got to get to the office and your mother’s been ringing that damn bell for the past half-hour.’

Louise looked at the bedside clock and threw back the covers. ‘What does she want?’ she mumbled.

‘How the hell do I know? You’d better get in there and sort her out.’ James grabbed his jacket and left the room.

As Louise dragged on her dressing gown, he put his head round the door. ‘I’m having some people round this evening so you’d better buck your ideas up. I don’t want you mooning around like a wet week in July.’

People – his drinking and gambling friends, no doubt. Why should she put herself out for them? She had enough to do. As if in answer to her thoughts, Dora’s bell rang again and a plaintive voice called, ‘Louise, where are you?’

She went into her stepmother’s room and began the morning ritual of getting her out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. Then there was the inevitable discussion as to whether she should get dressed and sit out or go back to bed.

‘Dr Tate said you should get up for a while each day. Besides, it gives me a chance to change your sheets and tidy up.’ Louise repeated the now familiar refrain.

‘What does that old man know? How does he know what I suffer? Time he retired. Why didn’t that young nephew of his take over when he had the chance? I don’t understand him wanting to work in London, especially with all those bombs.’

‘He’s doing his bit, Mother, working where he feels needed.’ Louise felt the usual stab in her heart at the mention of Andrew. She tried so hard not to think of him. But since the Blitz had started and the East End of London had been so badly hit, she found he was constantly in her thoughts and prayers. She might never see him again but she really couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him.

The morning passed in its usual boring round of housework, laundry and preparing food. Louise sighed when she opened the larder door. As more and more food went on ration it was becoming impossible to put together a meal that would satisfy James and Dora’s fussiness. They had each been so used to having exactly what they wanted and they didn’t seem to
understand
that she had to work with what she could get.

She would have to go into town and see what was available. The queue at the butcher’s would be long and there might not be anything available at the end of it but at least it would get her out of the house.

After settling Dora in her chair by the window and making sure she had everything she could possibly need, Louise put on her hat and jacket and set off into town. As soon as she closed the front gate her heart lightened and she shook off the oppression that was wearing her down.

The sun was shining and, as usual, she took the long way into town. A walk along the seafront could always lift her spirits. The threat of invasion had receded since Hitler had turned his attention to the Russian front but the dragon’s teeth and barbed wire remained in place. But she could still enjoy the sound of the waves sucking at the shingle, the cries of the seabirds. The breeze ruffled her hair and the warmth of the sun brought colour to her cheeks.

Deep inside, she clung to the hope that she might at last be pregnant. The thought brought a smile to her face. She wouldn’t think about what had happened to bring about the possibility. On a day like today, she could put James, Dora and even the war out of her mind.

The queue at the butcher’s stretched along the High Street and Louise sighed as she joined the end; you couldn’t forget the war for long, she thought. The time passed quickly as exchanges of news passed along the queue, coupled with the inevitable rumours and the occasional joke.

As she reached the counter the butcher asked the customer in front of her what she wanted. ‘Two pounds of fillet steak,’ the woman said, bursting into laughter at the look on his face.

Everyone else laughed too. ‘A bit of liver and a couple of sausages, that’s all you’ll get today, missus,’ he said, joining in the laughter.

Louise laughed too, envying their ability to make a joke out of such trying circumstances.

The butcher allowed her just three sausages and half a pound of mince – dinner for two days if James didn’t spot the sausages and insist on having them for his breakfast.

Busy planning the family meals, she started when someone spoke. ‘Miss Louise – I’m sorry I should say, Mrs Spencer. How are you?’

Louise turned to see someone in WVS uniform. It was Miss Baines, her father’s former secretary. ‘How nice to see you. How is your mother these days?’

‘She died a couple of months ago.’

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.’ Louise felt guilty. She should have kept in touch. Miss Baines had been such an asset to her father’s business. Impulsively, she asked, ‘Why don’t you come and have a cup of tea with me?’ Before Miss Baines could answer she shook her head. ‘No, you don’t want to lose your place. Another time, perhaps?’

The older woman glanced at the length of the queue. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’ll probably be sold out by the time I get to the front. I’d love to have tea. Where shall we go?’

They found a little café near the library and ordered tea and scones. ‘This is such a treat for me. I’m usually so busy. I miss the office but things have got better since I joined the WVS. It’s good to feel useful,’ Miss Baines said.

‘I’m really sorry you had to leave us,’ Louise said. ‘But of course we quite understood that your first duty was to your mother.’

‘It’s true she needed nursing towards the end but that’s not why I left,’ Miss Baines said, looking up from stirring her tea. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘I don’t understand.’ Louise busied herself buttering her scone, as she realized James must have dismissed the poor woman. She remembered the time she’d come into the office and he’d been so angry that she’d opened his post.

‘Your father relied on me, especially when he was unwell,’ Miss Baines said. ‘He trusted me, let me deal with confidential stuff. Mr James didn’t like that. I was a secretary and should mind my own business – his words, not mine. When I told him Mr Charlton had made it my business, he got angry with me for standing up for myself.’

‘But why give you the sack? He did, didn’t he?’

‘He was just looking for an excuse. When my mother had a bad spell and couldn’t be left for a couple of days, he said I was unreliable and he had to let me go.’ Miss Baines gave a little sob. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘It still hurts when I think of all the years I gave to the firm. It was my life….’

Louise reached out and patted the older woman’s hand. ‘I wish I’d known. I might have been able to do something. I thought you were retiring early to look after your mother.’

‘That’s what Mr James told everyone. Besides, in the end I was glad to leave. Things weren’t the same after your father died and he took over. And Mr James was determined to get rid of me.’