Songbird (9 page)

“It
keeps the wheels of industry turning.  What would we do without steam.” I knew
he wasn’t expecting an answer so I remained silent.  After a short pause he
said,  “The men that go down for the rescue.  Do they volunteer?”

“Oh,
yes and there’s never a shortage of volunteers.  They will sacrifice their
lives in the attempt to dig out any trapped men.”  I paused and then added,
“That’s if they’re able.”

“And
of course they’re not always able?”

“They
do their very best under the most awful conditions.  Methane gas, flooding, the
terror of another rock fall.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like when
women and small children worked down the pit, but it must have been dreadful. 
Especially for the children.  Even today, they still come across old roadways
with skeletons entombed.”

Karl
shook his head and sucked in a breath.  “Dear Lord, I had no idea.”  He
unbuttoned his overcoat revealing his suit and waistcoat beneath.

I
noticed his business-like clothes, of such good quality and obviously
expensive.  It came into my mind that he might be a Member of Parliament.  He
said he knew the prime minister, the Marquess of Salisbury.  Goodness me, I
thought, what a scandal it would cause if anyone found out what we were doing. 
It would not only ruin his reputation but also destroy his career.  He was
taking an awful risk for the love of his wife.  I had to admire him for it.

I
looked back at the painting and decided to test him.  “If you were a Member of
Parliament, you could visit the mining areas and perhaps help them.  Propose
better working conditions and housing and the like.”

He
gave me a quizzical look.  “That would be an excellent thing to do.  Perhaps
you ought to write to your Member of Parliament and suggest it.”

“I
haven’t got the vote.”

“Not
yet.  But it will come in time.”

“Do
you think so.”

“I’m
sure so.”  His attention turned back to the painting.  “Does that depict an
actual disaster?”

I had
already read the inscription.  “Yes, the mining disaster of 1860 in Waunfawr
near Risca.  The Blackvein Colliery when a hundred and forty-six men and boys
were killed.”

We
sat in silence.  He seemed to be absorbing this information.  “It must have
been like this when your father was killed,” he said softly.

I
didn’t know if he was asking a question or just saying his thoughts out loud.

“Yes,
It was just like this.  Exactly the same scene.  I know what those women are
going through.”

“You
waited at the pit-head?”

“I
helped prepare the bandages while the other women made hot drinks and food.”

“You
all worked together?”

“That’s
the way it is.  We find strength in sharing our sorrows.”  My mind drifted with
my memories.  “I started singing a carol,” I said quietly.  “Can’t remember
which one now, but everyone joined in.  Even the rescuers who had come up for a
rest.  I thought that singing a Christmas song would make everything all
right.”

He
reached across to me and I knew he was going to take my hand.  But then a
couple strolled into the gallery and he pulled away.

“My
poor, brave girl.  What a dreadful thing to go through,” he whispered.

“It
was the worst day of my life.”

“And
then you lost your father,” he murmured.

I
nodded.  “Nine men were trapped and they pulled seven out.”

He
shook his head.  “Two men lost,” he said sadly and frowned.  “The other man. 
Was it the mineralogist that worked for your father?”  I remained silent.  “Was
he married?”

“Yes,”
I said in a voice that sounded gritty.

“Did
he have children?”

“His
wife was expecting their first child.”

He
passed his hand over his face.  “How dreadful for her.  She must have…”

I
couldn’t bear any more.  “I must go.  I don’t want to be late for my next
lesson.”

I
jumped to my feet and he stood also.  He took my hand and kissed it.  “It’s
been very pleasant talking with you,” he said.  I turned my head away, but only
because I didn’t want him to see the tears that glistened in my eyes.  “I shall
see you on Wednesday.”

“Yes,
until Wednesday,” I mumbled.

I ran
all the way to the omnibus.

CHAPTER
NINE

I
t
continued to rain for the next two days and I travelled to Gibson Place with
the abysmal weather mirroring my heavy heart.  My experience in the art gallery
had unnerved me.  Perhaps it was seeing the painting and all the memories it
raised?  Not that it took much to make the memories come flooding back.  It was
less than two years since it had all happened and my emotions were still
extremely raw.  Perhaps it was Karl’s questioning that had alarmed me?  I had
had to go from being Mrs Asquith to Miss Pritchard without preparing myself. 
But then I recognised the reason behind my depression and it hit me like a bolt
of lightening, causing me to gasp in shock.

The
truth was I had enjoyed sitting next to him in the art gallery like a
conventional, married couple.  When we had talked of the mining disaster, I had
wanted him to take my hand, yearned for the comfort of his touch.  Instead, he
had sat inches away from me and I could smell the faint aroma of his damp
woollen coat, mixed with the scent of white musk, the cologne he wore after he
had shaved.  That much I had learnt about him.

When
I stepped into the parlour and saw him waiting for me, I longed to run across
the room and into his arms.  I wanted to be kissed and caressed and not just
when we were in bed, but in the everyday way that happens when a couple are
together.  But I couldn’t do that.  Instead, I greeted him as usual and he
kissed my hand politely.  We chatted as we always did and then Mrs Holland
called us into the dining room for our luncheon.  The conversation continued
during the meal and as was the routine I left him to go upstairs.

He
followed me a short time later and when he came into the room, I noticed he
didn’t have a brandy glass in his hand.  It seemed that he no longer needed to
bring any ‘Dutch courage’ into the bedroom and I felt grateful for that.  We
were getting used to each other.  We talked while I brushed my hair, just like
we always did and then I stood and made my way over to the bed.  I wasn’t
prepared for his next action.  He quickly rose from the armchair and reached
out, pulling me into his arms and kissing my face, my lips, my throat. 

I
cried out in surprise.  “You don’t usually do that,” I laughed.

“I’ve
been longing for you ever since…” he started but then stopped abruptly,
gritting his teeth.

I
pulled back and stared at him.  His eyes were half-closed and he was breathing
rapidly.  I slowly reached up and put my arms round his neck.  His embrace
tightened and he gave a moan.  His mouth covered mine and I could almost taste
his hunger.  And then he picked me up and carried me towards the bed, laying me
gently on the quilt.  I noticed his hands were shaking as he started pulling
off his clothes and I reached up to help him undress.  I had never done that
before, but it seemed such a natural thing to do.  And then we slipped between
the satin sheets.

His
kisses became more demanding and I began to respond, wrapping my arms and legs
round him.  I felt myself trembling.

“Karl,
I don’t understand,” I gasped. 

“Take
off your nightgown,” he said into my hair.

“No!”

“Take
off your nightgown!”

I put
my hands on his chest.  “I mustn’t.  I’m sure it’s breaking the rules.”

“Rules
are meant to be broken,” he said.

What
could I do?  I slipped the nightgown from my shoulders and he helped me.  And
then we were naked together and kissing and caressing and touching as though
nothing else mattered.  My passion matched his and when he thrust himself
inside me, I moved with him.  This time I didn’t hide my cries of pleasure.  I
didn’t care if Mrs Holland heard me.  The sensations began to heighten, slowly
building into an exhilarating peak.  He lifted himself and held my hands down
on the pillow, linking our fingers, pushing me vigorously into the mattress. 
And when the warm surge flooded through me, I arched my back and lost control
completely, writhing with the pleasure that took me over utterly.  He gave a
shout and his body jerked three or four times before he came to a shuddering
stop.  I put my arms round him and his back was damp with perspiration.  We lay
still.

It
was then I began to feel embarrassed.  I rolled over onto my side away from him
and pulled my legs up. 

He
lay quietly trying to control his breathing, but then he turned towards me and
put his arms round me.  “What’s wrong?” he said into my hair.

“Nothing,”
I muttered.

“Oh,
yes, there is.  I know when I’m getting the cold shoulder.”

“It’s
just that…I feel so ashamed.”  Tears began to trickle onto the pillow.

“Why
do you feel ashamed,” he asked softly.

“Because
I’m not here to be…”

“Pleasured?”

“For
want of a better word, yes,” I sobbed.

He
moved my hair away from my neck and brushed his lips against my skin.  “But
making a baby is a special time for a man and woman.  Shouldn’t it be just as
enjoyable for you as it is for me?”

“Perhaps
if I were your wife.  But I’m not and things are different.”

He
didn’t answer for a while and I knew that he knew I had spoken the truth.

“I
felt you responding the other times, but you were…  I want it to be pleasurable
for you too.”

Suddenly
I felt angry.  “I think you’re being very naive.  We are not a normal couple
and can’t afford the luxury of such feelings.  Tonight you’ll sleep with your
wife and be a husband to her.  And when we are all finished with this, you’ll
forget all about me.”

He
kissed my shoulder.  “I will not be sleeping with my wife tonight.”

I
turned to face him.  “You’re not?”

He
shook his head.  “I’m staying at my club.”

“You
left your wife at home?”

“Not
exactly.  She’s…visiting her family for a few weeks.”

I
thought this over.  “But what do you do on an evening?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Mrs
Holland told me that you must leave here by four-thirty to get ready for the
evening.  What do you do on an evening?”

“I
stay in the club,” he smiled.  “I play cards or billiards, or just sit and
chat.”

I
buried my face in his shoulder and let out a sob.  “Oh, I wish I knew your name
and where you come from.”

He
put his finger over my lips.  “Hush, you know I can’t tell you those things. 
But one thing I will tell you is my age.  I’m thirty-two years old.”

“Not
ancient, then,” I said, my laughter mixing with my tears.

“Some
days I feel like it,” he laughed with me.  He pulled me close and placed a
tender kiss on my lips.  “And I won’t forget all about you.  How could I?  You’ve
become an important part of my life.”

“Have
I?” I whispered. 

“Yes,
but I don’t want to cause you any more distress.  We have one more afternoon
together so I think I’d better keep my passions under control and show a little
more restraint.”

I lay
quietly in his arms and thought over what he had just said.  He intended to
show more restraint towards me and it caused me distress.  But I couldn’t
understand why. 

Three days later
we met for the last time.  I wondered if he felt as sad as I did and I watched
his face as we talked and tried to read something in his eyes, something that
would tell me that he would miss me.  But true to his word, Karl was more
restrained both in his speech and manner.Our final time together was tender and
he held me tightly, kissing my lips and cheeks, my nose and chin.

Afterwards,
he wrapped his arms round me and I rested my head on his chest.  I knew he was
waiting for me to fall asleep and I pretended that I had and I felt him slip
out of bed to get dressed.  I heard him walking towards the door and it seemed
he paused for quite a few seconds and I wondered if he was looking at me for
the last time.  I nearly opened my eyes, but resisted the temptation.  And when
the door eventually closed behind him, the tears began to gush, soaking my hair
and the pillow.  I would never see him again and I had grown to love him
desperately.  I thought my heart would break in two.

“Well, that’s
that, my dear,” said Mrs Holland, patting my knee.  I was sitting on the couch
next to her and having yet another cup of tea.  How many cups of tea had I had
with Mrs Holland?  Again, the table was covered with the tasty treats that were
afternoon tea, but I felt unable to eat anything.  I felt leaden and my head
ached incessantly.  “We need to organise your next visit and then it should be
plain sailing from then on.”

“My
next visit,” I repeated listlessly.

Mrs
Holland nodded.  “I want you to visit me when your monthly bleeding is three
weeks late.  By my calculation that should be the first week in November.  Come
at the usual time, four o’clock.”

“What
happens if my bleeding starts?”

“Come
anyway.”  She watched me.  “Are you all right?”

I
shivered.  “Yes.”

“Did
you sleep?” 

Yes,
I had slept.  It was a routine I had become used to.  But I had cried myself to
sleep and now felt like a rag doll and didn’t care what Mrs Holland asked me to
do.  I would do it without question, without enthusiasm, without the will to
fight back.  A man had just walked out of my life after melting a heart that
had been turned to ice by the loss of my husband.  After Daniel, I had vowed I
would never love again and face the terrible pain if I lost him.  But I had
lost him since Karl was as good as dead to me. 

Mrs
Holland was still watching me.  “He left you something.”

I
nearly dropped my cup in surprise.  “He did?”

She
rose from her chair.  Opening a drawer in the bureau, she took out a small box
and placed it in my hand.  It was square and covered with red velvet.  I opened
it and inside lay a beautiful gold fob watch, the face made of ivory, the
numbers and hands of jet, the clasp decorated with an intricate leaf design,
the rim round the face studded with tiny diamonds.

“He
didn’t leave a message with it, I’m afraid.  He simply instructed me to make
sure you received it when you woke up.  I surmise he thought you’d understand.”

I
held it to the light and it glowed and sparkled.

“I
suppose it’s a memento of all the appointments we’ve had,” I whispered.

“Well,
it’s really lovely, my dear,” said Mrs Holland, matter-of-factly.

I
wondered if she disagreed with such a gift.  Perhaps she believed it smacked
too much of affection when the agreement should be kept on a strict business
level.  But I loved my gift and as I placed it tenderly back in its box, I felt
happier.  Karl was telling me that he did care and that he would never forget
me.

October was a
sorry month.  It seemed to rain a great deal but my routine fell into place
once more, the days very much like they were before I met Karl.  I became busy,
with my students either delighting or irritating me depending on their various
abilities.  Francis was my supreme joy, but I was pleased that Melissa was
showing some improvement.  I had managed to get her to sing in a lower key and
it was actually working.  Or at least she didn’t screech as much.  I had given
up on Charity.

I
thought of Karl often and sometimes I wished my memory of him could be erased. 
But then I would open the box that contained his gift and I would smile.  I
wondered what he was doing and where he was.  But I never wondered about his
real name.  He was Karl and that was all I needed to know.

“That’s
a beautiful watch,” said Nan, gazing at my bodice.

“Do
you like it?”  I gave Danny another spoonful of porridge.  He had his own spoon
now and was trying to fill it from the bowl and manoeuvre it into his mouth,
often with disastrous results.

“As I
said, it’s beautiful.  Where did you get it?”

“From
the mother of one of my pupils…She wanted to thank me…It’s a gift…” I had only
started wearing it the day before.  I hadn’t had the courage up to that point.

“Is
that so?  It’s an expensive gift.”

“She
was delighted with the improvement in her daughter this last year.”  I smiled
and added weakly,  “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

“Well,
I just hope the improvement continues or she might want it back,” said Nan
dryly.

I
left for my first lesson of the day.  Two weeks had passed since my last
meeting with Karl and my monthly bleeding was seven days late.  That had only
happened after I had fallen pregnant with Danny so I was convinced that I was
expecting Karl’s child.  I felt happy.

“Oh, my
goodness!” Gwilym’s eyes opened wide with surprise.  “What on earth is this!”

It
was the end of October, his birthday and he had joined us for dinner.  He had
just unwrapped my gift and opened the box.