Our Lizzie (37 page)

He nodded.

Only then did she give in.

*   *   *

That night, Percy knocked on the door of his erstwhile friend, the brother-in-law he had come to despise.

Sam opened it, swaying and smelling of beer.

“I'll come back when you're sober.”

“No. Come in, lad. Come in.”

Percy hesitated, then followed him inside.

In the kitchen, Sam gestured to a chair. “Have you seen her?”

“Yes.”

“They wouldn't let me in.”

“That's hardly surprising.”

Sam glared at him, then remembered that he needed to gain some sympathy. “I didn't mean to hurt her. It was just the once. She got me so mad.”

“It wasn't just the once. You've hit her before. Several times. How could you have thumped her when she was carrying your child?”

“I didn't mean to make her lose the baby. You must believe that.” Sam's face crumpled and he dashed away a tear. He'd wept for his son last night, wept bitterly. And he wished—oh, sod it, he didn't know what he wished. “How—how is she?”

“Bad. You've really hurt her. Have you seen her face? Seen what you've done?”

Sam went to stand with his back to the room, staring down into the fire. “They won't let me in,” he said in a hoarse voice. “She has to let me say I'm sorry. I'll promise not to do it again.”

“But do you really mean that?”

Sam turned round. “Of course I bloody do! I want sons, like any other man. I was a fool to let my temper go, but it won't happen again.”

Percy hesitated. “Well, I'm going to see her tomorrow night. I'll tell her you're sorry. Maybe if I go with you the day after that? She should be feeling a bit better by then.”

Sam came and shook his hand. “Thanks, lad. That means a lot to me.”

When Percy had left, Sam went and got another bottle of beer out of the pantry. Sodding women. Weak as piss, they were, and stupid with it. Why didn't she just do as he told her? Why was she so stupid? She'd made him do it. But, stupid or not, he needed her. And anyway, Lizzie was his, always had been. “I'll have to watch meself, be a bit more careful from now on,” he admitted aloud. Then he snorted. “But so will she. I'm havin' no more talk of her leavin'.”

*   *   *

Polly went to see Lizzie the next afternoon, having begged time off work to do so. She was horrified at the sight of her sister's face, with one eye puffy and blue, her lip split. “Oh, Lizzie, you poor thing. He's a brute!”

She shed tears all over her sister, then realised that Lizzie was just lying there, staring dully into space, and pulled herself together. “What can I do for you, love? Do you need anything washed? I've brought you some fruit, but do you need anything else?”

“I need some money. Quite a bit, actually.”

Polly didn't pretend to misunderstand. “You're going to leave him?”

Lizzie nodded.

“Good. How much do you need?”

“You'll lend it me, Polly? Really?”

“Of course I will. You can have all my savings. Every penny.”

Then Lizzie wept in sheer relief, but quietly so as not to bring the nurse down on them. After a bit, she pulled herself together and tried to make plans in a low voice. If only her head didn't hurt so much! If only she could think straight!

Polly sat frowning. “When are they letting you out?”

“They said not for a few days. But I thought—if I just walked out of the hospital one day, before anyone expected it, well, perhaps I could get away while he's at work.” Because she wasn't going back to him, she wasn't. That thought was keeping her going.

“Good idea. If you tell me when you want to leave, I'll come and help you.”

Lizzie managed a faint smile. “I'll pay you back one day.”

“You don't need to. Just stay away from
him
.”

“You've never liked him, have you?”

Polly shook her head.

“Why didn't you say?”

“It wouldn't have made any difference then.” Someone rang a bell, so Polly squeezed her hand and walked out with the other visitors, turning at the door for a final wave.

“Looking a little brighter today, Mrs. Thoxby,” the sister said when she did her next round. “I'm sure it'll all work itself out, you know. He'll have realised how wrong he was, be ashamed of how he's behaved.”

Lizzie just shrugged. It was clear the people here didn't understand and could do nothing to help her, so she'd have to help herself.

*   *   *

When Percy came to see her that evening, he brought no money with him and asked her to consider very seriously going back to Sam. “I've had a talk to him and I really think he's sorry for what he did.”

Lizzie stared at him in dismay. Percy was too soft. He'd believe anything, he would. Well, she wasn't soft. Not any more. “The only thing he might be sorry for would be losing his child. He
likes
hitting me!”

“No, no! He's just got a hasty temper.”

“He likes hurting people,” she insisted. “And I'm
not
going back to him.”

“Couldn't you just see him for a few minutes? Talk it over before you do anything you'll regret.”

“The minute he walks through that door, I start screaming for help.”

“But he's promised me he'll not hit you again.”

“He could promise all he liked, but I wouldn't believe him and anyway, he wouldn't be able to stop himself when he gets in one of his black moods.” Percy tried to pat her hand and she pulled it away from him angrily. “I was counting on you!”

“Nay, lass, he's really upset. He had tears in his eyes when I was talking to him.”

She stared at him stonily. “Did you bring any money for me? If not, you can just go away and leave me in peace.”

He fumbled in his pocket for something to appease her. “I've got a few bob, but I'm a bit short this week.” His mother had gone into town and spent all the housekeeping money on some garish jewellery yesterday. “I'll have to go to the savings bank tomorrow. And I really do think you should see Sam before you decide to do anything rash.”

She gave a bitter laugh that turned into a sob. “That's what the almoner said. I married him for better, for worse, she said. Only it's all worse, Percy. There is no better with Sam.” Then she turned her head away and covered her eyes with one arm. When she looked up, the nurse was whispering in Percy's ear and he nodded, raised one hand in farewell and left.

*   *   *

The following afternoon, Miss Terrent appeared suddenly with Sam behind her, bowler hat in hand, looking all spruced up and respectable in his Sunday best.

“I don't want to see him!” Lizzie said at once. “If he comes one step nearer, I'll scream.”

Miss Terrent sighed, beginning to feel some sympathy for the poor man, who had been most contrite. “He's your husband, my dear. Just let him stay for a few minutes and talk to you. He won't move from the foot of the bed, will you, Mr. Thoxby? There, you see. You'll be perfectly safe. And, I promise you, I'll only be down at the end of the ward with sister.”

Before Lizzie could protest, she had left them together, drawing the curtains round the bed to give them some privacy—as if everyone in the ward wasn't listening as hard as they could.

“I'm sorry, lass,” Sam offered.

Lizzie just glared at him.

“I am sorry.” In truth, he was horrified at the sight of her. He couldn't even remember doing so much damage. He took a step forward and moved hastily backwards again as she opened her mouth to cry out. “I don't know what came over me.”

“The same thing as came over you all the other times you hit me. Only this time you've killed our baby as well as hurting me badly.”

“Shh!” He looked round, embarrassed by her loud words.

“I won't shut up. I don't want to see you and I'm not coming back to you.”

With a great effort, he controlled his anger. “Look, lass—”

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

He reached out towards her and she screamed, thinking he was going to hit her again. “Nurse! Nurse! Help!”

There was a clatter of footsteps along the ward and Miss Terrent erupted into the makeshift cubicle, followed by the sister. “Keep your voice down, please, Mrs. Thoxby.”

“Get him away from me! He was going to hit me again.” Lizzie cowered away from Sam, who stood frozen in astonishment.

The sister noted that he was not even close enough to touch his wife and exchanged a glance of sympathy with him. Clearly the woman was a hysteric. “Best to leave now, Mr. Thoxby.”

*   *   *

Three days later, Lizzie bundled her clothes together and crept along the ward during the nurses' dinner break. As a nurse appeared in the corridor, she ducked behind the curtains round the end cubicle and put one finger to her lips, looking pleadingly at the occupant.

The patient lying there nodded and said nothing.

When the footsteps had moved past the ward and the nurse had disappeared into the distance, the woman in the bed asked, “Running away from him?”

“Yes.”

“Good luck to you, lass! Don't you ever go back neither. They never change, that sort don't.” She gestured to her nose. “Mine broke this, an' a few other bones as well. I were glad when he died. So if you can get away from yours, I say good luck to you.”

Lizzie nodded, checked that the coast was clear and tiptoed into the public toilet on that floor. She was horrified by the sight of her face in the mirror, but turned resolutely away and shut herself into a cubicle where she removed her nightwear, dressed herself with painful slowness and put on a headscarf Polly had brought her, pulling its folded edge forward to hide her face. Then, keeping her head down, and holding the bundle of night things under her arm, she left quietly, expecting at every step to be stopped.

*   *   *

By the time she got down the hospital stairs, Lizzie was feeling faint and dizzy. She sighed with relief when she found her sister waiting for her in the public area, sitting on a bench in a corner, clutching a full shopping bag and looking anxious.

Polly hurried towards her. “Thank goodness! Come on, love! There's a train leaves at half-past one.”

Lizzie nodded, but a spasm of dizziness had her clutching her sister's arm.

Polly was worried by how pale she looked. “Let's link arms. And keep your head down. That way you'll be all right.” She led the way out of the hospital, trying to keep between her sister and anyone they passed. “We've plenty of time to catch the train. Don't worry.”

At the gates to the hospital grounds, Lizzie stopped, swaying. “I can't. Polly, I can't go any further.”

Polly looked at her in concern. Beneath the puffiness and bruises, Lizzie's face was bone white. Worried, she looked round, sighing in relief as she saw a cab waiting near the gates, its horse munching from a nose bag. She coaxed Lizzie across to it. “Can you take us into town, please, to the station? My sister's been ill and she's not fit to walk.”

The driver sprang forward to open the door. “You make yourselves comfortable. Eeh, love, whatever happened to your face?”

“A bad fall,” Polly said hastily.

As the horse clopped along the road towards the station, Lizzie leaned her head against her sister's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Polly, but I don't think I can manage.”

Polly didn't think so either. “You don't have to manage. I'm coming with you to Eva's.”

“You can't. You'll lose your job.” Lizzie began to sob. “I can't ask you to do that! Take me back to the hospital. They may not have noticed I've gone.”

“Shh, love. I'll send a message to the housekeeper. I won't lose my job. Mrs. Frost is very understanding.”

“But—”

Polly looked at her sternly. “I'm not leaving you on your own, even if I do lose my job.”

Lizzie sniffed and gave her sister a watery smile. “I love you, Polly Kershaw.”

Polly felt tears come into her own eyes. “Shut up, you daft ha'porth and save your strength to stagger on to that train.”

*   *   *

At lunch time that day, Sam asked the foreman if he could take an hour off to visit his wife in hospital.

Ben stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded. “But only an hour, mind, and I'll have to dock your wages.”

“Thanks.”

He strode out of the works, ignoring scornful glances from the men he passed and the growling of hunger in his stomach as well. He had to see her. He didn't know what had got into him to hit her like that. He'd never do it again, never. But maybe he'd not have to. Surely, surely, she'd do as he told her from now on and stop all that foolish daydreaming? Other women were satisfied to stay and quietly mind their homes, why not Lizzie?

Then he remembered the child she had lost and he stopped for a moment as pain shot through him. His child, too. He'd killed his own child. Oh, hell, what had got into him? He had to see her and tell her he'd never hit her like that again. He
had
to. He began to walk more quickly.

*   *   *

All too soon the cab arrived at the station. As Polly paid the driver, she saw him looking at Lizzie with sympathy and understanding, and asked if he could possibly take a message for her.

“Aye.”

“Just let me find somewhere for my sister to sit.” When she had found a bench for Lizzie inside the station, out of sight of the street, Polly ran back to the cab. “I need to write a note. Can you wait while I go and buy a postcard?”

He nodded. Business was very slack, and he didn't mind helping these two. Whoever had hurt that lass should be hung, drawn and quartered, in his opinion. If she'd been his daughter, he'd have done something about it, he would that. Given the sod a dose of his own medicine.