The Burden (11 page)

‘But how are we going to be able to pay?'

‘Oh, one can always stave things off,' said Henry vaguely.

‘It's a good thing I got that job at the flower place.'

‘Yes, it is, as it turns out. Not that I want you ever to feel you've got to work. Only if you like it.'

‘Well, I do like it. I'd be bored to death doing nothing all day. All that happens is that one goes out and buys things.'

‘I must say,' said Henry, picking up a sheaf of accounts rendered, ‘this sort of thing is very depressing. I do hate Lady Day. One's hardly got over Christmas, and income tax, and all that.' He looked down at the topmost bill in his hand. ‘This man, the one who did the bookcases, is asking for his money in a very rude sort of way. I shall put him straight into the waste-paper basket.' He suited the action to the word, and went on to the next one. ‘ “Dear sir, we must respectfully draw your attention – ” Now that's a nice polite way of putting it.'

‘So you'll pay that one?'

‘I shan't exactly pay it,' said Henry, ‘but I shall file it, ready to pay.'

Shirley laughed –

‘Henry, I do adore you. But what are we really going to
do
?'

‘We needn't worry tonight. Let's go out to dinner somewhere really expensive.'

Shirley made a face at him.

‘Will that help?'

‘It won't help our financial position,' Henry admitted. ‘On the contrary! But it will cheer us up.'

Dear Laura,

Could you possibly lend us a hundred pounds? We're in a bit of a jam. I've been out of a job for two months now, as you probably know (Laura didn't know), but I'm on the verge of landing something really good. In the meantime we've taken to sneaking out by the service lift to avoid the duns. Really very sorry to sponge like this, but I thought I'd better do the dirty work as Shirley mightn't like to.

Yours ever,

Henry.

‘I didn't know you'd borrowed money from Laura!'

‘Didn't I tell you?' Henry turned his head lazily.

‘No, you didn't.' Shirley spoke grimly.

‘All right, darling, don't bite my head off. Did Laura tell you?'

‘No, she didn't. I saw it in the pass-book.'

‘Good old Laura, she stumped up without any fuss at all.'

‘Henry, why did you borrow money from
her
? I wish you hadn't. Anyway, you oughtn't to have done it without telling me about it first.'

Henry grinned.

‘You wouldn't have let me do it.'

‘You're quite right. I wouldn't.'

‘The truth is, Shirley, the position was rather desperate. I got fifty out of old Muriel. And I made sure that I'd get at least a hundred out of Big Bertha – that's my godmother. Unfortunately, she turned me down flat. Feeling her surtax, I gather. Nothing but a lecture. I tried one or two other sources, no good. In the end, it boiled down to Laura.'

Shirley looked at him reflectively.

‘I've been married two years,' she thought. ‘I see now just what Henry's like. He'll never keep a job very long, and he spends money like water …'

She still found it delightful to be married to Henry, but she perceived that it had its disadvantages. Henry had by now had four different jobs. It never seemed difficult for him to get a job – he had a large circle of wealthy friends – but it seemed quite impossible for him to keep a job. Either he got tired of it and chucked it, or it chucked him. Also, Henry spent money like water, and never seemed to have any difficulty in getting credit. His idea of settling his affairs was by borrowing. Henry did not mind borrowing. Shirley did.

She sighed:

‘Do you think I'll ever be able to change you, Henry?' she asked.

‘Change me?' said Henry, astonished. ‘Why?'

‘Hallo, Baldy.'

‘Why, it's young Shirley.' Mr Baldock blinked at her from the depths of his large shabby arm-chair. ‘I wasn't asleep,' he added aggressively.

‘Of course not,' said Shirley tactfully.

‘Long time since we've seen you down here,' said Mr Baldock. ‘Thought you'd forgotten us.'

‘I never forget you!'

‘Got your husband with you?'

‘Not this time.'

‘I see.' He studied her. ‘Looking rather thin and pale, aren't you?'

‘I've been dieting.'

‘You women!' He snorted. ‘In a spot of trouble?' he inquired.

Shirley flared out at him.

‘Certainly
not
!'

‘All right, all right. I just wanted to know. Nobody ever tells me anything nowadays. And I'm getting deaf. Can't overhear as much as I used to. It makes life very dull.'

‘Poor Baldy.'

‘And the doctor says I mustn't do any more gardening – no stooping over flower-beds – blood rushes to my head or something. Damned fool – croak, croak, croak! That's all they do, these doctors!'

‘I
am
sorry, Baldy.'

‘So you see,' said Mr Baldock wistfully, ‘if you
did
want to tell me anything – well – it wouldn't go any further. We needn't tell Laura.'

There was a pause.

‘In a way,' said Shirley, ‘I did come to tell you something.'

‘Thought you did,' said Mr Baldock.

‘I thought you might give me – some advice.'

‘Shan't do that. Much too dangerous.'

Shirley paid no attention.

‘I don't want to talk to Laura. She doesn't really like Henry. But you like Henry, don't you?'

‘I like Henry all right,' said Mr Baldock. ‘He's a most entertaining fellow to talk to, and he's a nice sympathetic way of listening to an old man blowing off steam. Another thing that I like about him is that he never worries.'

Shirley smiled.

‘He certainly never worries.'

‘Very rare in the world nowadays. Everybody I meet has nervous dyspepsia from worrying. Yes, Henry's a pleasant fellow. I don't concern myself about his moral worth as Laura would.'

Then he said gently:

‘What's he been up to?'

‘Do you think I'm a fool, Baldy, to sell out my capital?'

‘Is that what you have been doing?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, when you married, the control of it passed to you. It's yours to do what you like with.'

‘I know.'

‘Henry suggest it to you?'

‘No … Really no. It was entirely my doing. I didn't want Henry to go bankrupt. I don't think Henry himself would have minded going bankrupt at all. But I would. Do you think I was a fool?'

Mr Baldock considered.

‘In one way, yes, in another way not at all.'

‘Expound.'

‘Well, you haven't got very much money. You may need it badly in the future. If you think your attractive husband can be relied upon to provide for you, you can just think again. In that way, you're a fool.'

‘And the other way?'

‘Looking at it the other way, you've paid out your money to buy yourself peace of mind. That may have been quite a wise thing to do.' He shot a sharp glance at her. ‘Still fond of your husband?'

‘Yes.'

‘Is he a good husband to you?'

Shirley walked slowly round the room. Once or twice she ran her finger absently along a table or the back of a chair, and looked at the dust upon it. Mr Baldock watched her.

She came to a decision at last. Standing by the fireplace, her back turned to him, she said:

‘Not particularly.'

‘In what way?'

In an unemotional voice Shirley said:

‘He's having an affair with another woman.'

‘Serious?'

‘I don't know.'

‘So you came away?'

‘Yes.'

‘Angry?'

‘Furious.'

‘Going back?'

Shirley was silent a moment. Then she said:

‘Yes, I am.'

‘Well,' said Mr Baldock, ‘it's your life.' Shirley came over to him and kissed the top of his head. Mr Baldock grunted.

‘Thank you, Baldy,' she said.

‘Don't thank me, I haven't done anything.'

‘I know,' said Shirley. ‘That's what's so wonderful of you!'

The trouble was, Shirley thought, that one got tired.

She leaned back against the plush of the Underground seat.

Three years ago, she hadn't known what tiredness was. Living in London might be a partial cause. Her work had at first been only part-time, but she now worked full-time at the flower-shop in the West End. After that, there were usually things to buy, and then the journey home in the rush-hour, and then the preparing and cooking of the evening meal.

It was true that Henry appreciated her cooking!

Her eyes closed as she leaned back. Someone trod heavily on her toes and she winced.

She thought: ‘But I am tired …'

Her mind went back fitfully over the three and a half years of her married life …

Early bliss …

Bills …

More bills …

Sonia Cleghorn …

Rout of Sonia Cleghorn. Henry penitent, charming, affectionate …

More money difficulties …

Bailiffs …

Muriel to the rescue …

Expensive and unnecessary but quite delightful holiday at Cannes …

The Hon. Mrs Emlyn Blake …

Deliverance of Henry from the toils of Mrs Emlyn Blake …

Henry grateful, penitent, charming …

Fresh financial crisis …

Big Bertha to the rescue …

The Lonsdale girl …

Financial worries …

Still the Lonsdale girl …

Laura …

Staving off Laura …

Failure to stave off Laura …

Row with Laura …

Appendicitis. Operation. Convalescence …

Return home …

Final phase of the Lonsdale girl …

Her mind lingered and dwelt on that last item.

She had been resting in the flat. It was the third flat they had lived in, and was filled with furniture bought on the hire purchase system – this last suggested by the incident of the bailiffs.

The bell had rung, and she felt too lazy to get up and open the door. Whoever it was would go away. But whoever it was didn't go away. They rang again and again.

Shirley rose angrily to her feet. She went to the door, pulled it open and stood face to face with Susan Lonsdale.

‘Oh, it's you, Sue.'

‘Yes. Can I come in?'

‘Actually I'm rather tired. I've just come back from hospital.'

‘I know. Henry told me. You poor darling. I've brought you some flowers.'

Shirley took the out-thrust bunch of daffodils without any marked expression of gratitude.

‘Come in,' she said.

She went back to the sofa and put her feet up. Susan Lonsdale sat down in a chair.

‘I didn't want to worry you while you were still in hospital,' she said. ‘But I do feel, you know, that we ought to get things settled.'

‘In what way?'

‘Well – Henry.'

‘What about Henry?'

‘Darling, you're not going to be an ostrich, are you? Head in the sand and all that?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘You do know, don't you, that Henry and I have got quite a thing about each other?'

‘I should have to be blind and deaf not to know that,' said Shirley coldly.

‘Yes – yes, of course. And, I mean, Henry's awfully fond of you. He'd hate to upset you in any way. But there it is.'

‘There what is?'

‘What I'm really talking about is divorce.'

‘You mean that Henry wants a divorce?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then why hasn't he mentioned it?'

‘Oh, Shirley darling, you know what Henry's like. He does so hate having to be
definite
. And he didn't want to upset you.'

‘But you and he want to get married?'

‘Yes. I'm
so
glad you understand.'

‘I suppose I understand all right,' said Shirley slowly.

‘And you'll tell him that it's all right?'

‘I'll talk to him, yes.'

‘It's awfully sweet of you. I do feel that in the end –'

‘Oh, go away,' said Shirley. ‘I'm just out of hospital and I'm
tired
. Go away – at once – do you hear?'

‘Well, really,' said Susan, rising in some dudgeon. ‘I do think – well, one might at least be
civilized
.'

She went out of the room and the front door banged.

Shirley lay very still. Once a tear crept slowly down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily.

‘Three years and a half,' she thought. ‘Three years and a half … and it's come to this.' And then, suddenly, without being able to help it, she began to laugh. That sentiment sounded so like a line in a bad play.

She didn't know if it was five minutes later or two hours when she heard Henry's key in the door.

He came in looking gay and light-hearted as usual. In his hand was an enormous bunch of long-stemmed yellow roses.

‘For you, darling. Nice?'

‘Lovely,' said Shirley. ‘I've already had daffodils. Not so nice. Rather cheap and past their prime, as a matter of fact.'

‘Oh, who sent you those?'

‘They weren't
sent
. They were brought. Susan Lonsdale brought them.'

‘What cheek,' said Henry indignantly.

Shirley looked at him in faint surprise.

‘What did she come here for?' he asked.

‘Don't you know?'

‘I suppose I can guess. That girl's becoming a positive pest.'

‘She came to tell me that you want a divorce.'

‘That
I
want a divorce? From
you
?'