Walking Back to Happiness

‘Yes, but I’d still like to go. It’s just the experience, isn’t it?’

‘A costly experience.’

‘It’s not so much.’

‘Maybe not to you,’ Arthur said, turning away as he spoke. ‘Come along, we’ll be late for dinner if we’re not careful.’

Hannah followed glumly behind him, feeling sure the dinner they’d ordered at the hotel would be little improvement on the one they had served to them the previous night. Or indeed the breakfast that morning – lumps of tepid scrambled egg served on old, soggy toast with barely a scrape of butter on it.

Most of the other residents were much older than Hannah and Arthur and not inclined to make conversation and Hannah felt the dining room to be a dismal unfriendly place. The food was no help in dispelling this feeling and yet Arthur didn’t seem to find it a problem. It’s probably cheap, that’s why, Hannah thought later that day, as she chewed her way through sausages burned on the outside and still pink inside and tasting like sawdust. Cheapness seemed to be the only thing Arthur cared about.

It was the next day after another, fraught night when Hannah had to say similar consoling words to Arthur that Hannah finally lost her temper. It happened because Arthur declared the Winter Gardens too expensive a place to go inside.

‘All I’ve heard you say since we arrived is that this, that and the other is too dear or a waste of money,’ she cried. ‘This is our honeymoon! It’s supposed to be enjoyable. Much as I like the sea, I don’t want to remember that on my honeymoon all I did was wander up and down looking at it.’

Arthur looked affronted. ‘Hannah, if I may say so, you do not understand the cost of things,’ he said stiffly.

‘Yes I do!’ Hannah retorted. ‘I’m not a child. But if money is a problem, I’d rather not have had a honeymoon here at all. It would have been easier not showing me a host of delights I cannot enjoy or take part in.’

‘Please, Hannah, keep your voice down,’ Arthur hissed, looking around at the people in the street anxiously. ‘People are looking.’

‘Well, let them look,’ Hannah snapped. Her eyes were flashing fire and her face bright with temper as she went on. ‘I’m not putting up with this penny-pinching attitude any longer.’

What she was about to do to change it she hardly knew, but before she was able to make another retort, Arthur glared at her, horrified, and then turned from her and began walking away. Hannah realised she had two choices; either to turn after him berating him like a fishwife, or leave him to sulk and go about on her own.

She still felt too angry with Arthur to run after him and despite her spirited retort, she had a horror of showing herself up in public and so she stood for a moment, watching Arthur’s stiff back get further away from her before turning her head and walking the other way.

All in all she had a good afternoon. She had a little money of her own and she intended to use it. She’d never seen slot machines and one-armed bandits that Blackpool had in abundance and normally would have been more careful with her money, but that day she threw caution to the wind and, though she lost every penny she spent, she decided it was good fun. She then tried unsuccessfully to get the arm of a crane that was encased in a glass box to lift a watch up for her, and she put money in the laughing policeman, which put a smile not only on her face, but anyone’s in earshot.

She had little left after that, but enough to pay to climb the Tower. She stood on the top, buffeted by the wind as Arthur had prophesised, and unable to see much because of the leaden grey sky. But, she was still glad she did it. What was the point of coming to Blackpool and not climbing its most famous landmark?

Once more on the ground, she wished she didn’t have to return to the dismal lodging house for the awful stuff they put in front of you under the guise of food. She looked longingly at the succulent fish and chips she saw people tucking into in the cafés and the smell of it made her stomach rumble. But she was nearly out of money and only had enough for one small cup of coffee before making her way back.

Arthur greeted her coldly, which was only what she expected, and they ate the badly cooked lump of doughy, grisly, indeterminate meat covered in brown, tasteless gravy, that the lodging house described as steak and kidney pudding, in silence.

It was as they started on the roly-poly pudding, which was made with the same dough as the dinner, but this time smeared with jam and covered with over-sweet yellow custard, that Hannah leaned towards Arthur. ‘Come on,’ she coaxed. ‘We can’t go on like this. I did have a point this morning, say what you like, but I did. You don’t like spending money on anything.’

‘Someone has to look after the pennies.’

‘I’m not expecting you to take me to expensive places or spend every penny,’ Hannah protested. ‘But just to relax now and then and not go all stiff and starchy if I suggest we have a few goes on the fair, or stop for a drink of coffee.’

Begrudgingly, though never acknowledging that Hannah was right, Arthur did go to the fair later that day. It was not a success. It seemed to give Arthur actual pain to spend money and he showed such little emotion on any ride he went on that he dampened Hannah’s enthusiasm. The thrill of fear that rippled down Hannah’s back as the Big Wheel thrust them into the air made her want to scream, but the look on Arthur’s face stifled it in her throat, as it did her shout of exhilaration on the Carousel or the Big Dipper. As for the Ghost Train, Arthur was no earthly use to her. The long moans and sudden appearance of a skeleton looming up in the blackness and the spidery things that brushed her face and trailed in her hair caused her to start suddenly and give little yelps of terror. But no comforting arm came around her.

Even the candyfloss was a disappointment; though she pulled large lumps off, as soon as she put it in her mouth it seemed to disappear and she got incredibly sticky. But she didn’t complain to Arthur and didn’t bother asking for a toffee apple, or an ice cream.

That night Arthur made no attempt to touch Hannah and she was relieved to be able to sleep unmolested, though she tried hard not to show it.

The following morning, Hannah lay and listened to the rain hammering on the windows and she got out of bed and padded across the floor to see heavy, relentless rain, the sort that sets in for the day, falling like steel stair rods from a blackened sky. They were to go home that day and really she was glad. Maybe Arthur would relax in his own house more and she was sure if he could relax, let himself go, the problem he had with arousal would be solved. It wasn’t that she longed for the sexual act itself, knowing with Arthur it would probably be a disappointment, but she knew it was important to him, like it would be for any man. It was also necessary if Hannah was to ever have the child she longed for. She gave a sigh, turned from the window and began to dress.

The breakfast bacon was nearly raw, and the eggs scrambled and just as tasteless as those the previous day, but it hardly mattered anymore. They were going home. Hannah would be mistress of her own house and then any meals would be cooked by her. She’d been a fairly indifferent cook when she’d first come to Gloria’s, but she’d learnt quickly and now good food properly cooked and presented was important to her.

She was looking forward to seeing both Gloria and Josie again, surprised how much she’d missed them. She turned to say something about it to Arthur on the train going home, but he forestalled her. ‘This business of the child, my dear.’

‘Josie?’

‘Yes, Josie. She gets on very well with Mrs Emmerson, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Well, yes. Sure the devil himself would get on with Gloria.’

‘Quite,’ Arthur said. ‘So then, if Josie were to stay with Mrs Emmerson …’

‘Arthur, we’ve been through this,’ Hannah said with a sigh. ‘My sister entrusted Josie to me. It was almost the last lucid thing she said. I promised to look after her and she died peacefully because of it. I cannot and will not go back on that promise.’

‘These deathbed promises are all very well, but to tie yourself to a child …’

‘I’m sorry, Arthur, but that’s how it is. We had this out months ago. You said you would make her welcome.’

‘Have you considered the cost of rearing her?’ Arthur snapped. ‘At least we should have a contribution from her family for that.’

‘Who from, Arthur?’ Hannah said. ‘One brother is a priest and one sister a nun, another in Connemara hasn’t two half pennies to bless herself with. Ellen’s just recently married, while Sam just makes enough to keep himself and his grandparents, and two more are making their way in America.’

‘What of the house? There should be money there?’

‘Yes, there will be,’ Hannah agreed. ‘But split between all of them it would not amount to that much. It goes to auction next week, for there wasn’t enough interest in it, so Sam said. The money for the beasts is already banked and any farm equipment that Sam had no use for.’

‘Well, however much it is, or isn’t, when it’s all settled that money should come to us,’ Arthur said. ‘In fact, you should have a share in it. You grew up with them.’

‘But I’m not part of the family,’ Hannah said. ‘I don’t want their money and I won’t let you spend Josie’s share.’

Arthur’s mouth dropped open in amazement. ‘That money is ours by right.’

‘I’m not talking right or wrong in this,’ Hannah said. ‘One day the child may need money of her own.’

Arthur was furious. ‘I can’t be expected to bear the total cost of that child’s care until she is adult without the least financial contribution.’

Hannah knew with Arthur’s true aversion to spending money, Josie would never be truly welcome there if it was affecting his pocket and in a way, he had a point. Martin had said he would send something for her when he was settled and she’d never known him let anyone down before. But nothing had come yet, and she didn’t want Arthur to hold any antagonism towards the child. She’d feel it, even if nothing was said, and that was the very thing she wanted to avoid.

‘Then let me go back to Gloria’s to work,’ Hannah said. ‘You know she wants me to. I’d get your breakfast first and leave the evening meal ready.’

‘I didn’t want you to work,’ Arthur said mulishly. ‘Not now we’re married.’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Hannah said placatingly. ‘But think about it, Arthur. What would I do at home all day anyway?’

‘What if you should have a child of our own?’

Hannah bit back the retort that something would have to be resolved in the sexual area before that could be achieved. Instead, she said, ‘Then I should imagine I’d have plenty to do. But just for now, Arthur?’ She felt his resolve weakening and so she played her trump card. ‘And then Josie living with us wouldn’t cost you anything, I’d be able to see to her myself.’

Arthur considered the proposal. He had no desire for Hannah to work. Really he had no desire for her to go anywhere and have men look at her now she was married. She was his wife and as such his needs should be paramount in her life. But he knew children were expensive, he’d heard colleagues talking about it at work, the amount they ate and the clothes and shoes they needed.

Maybe, he thought, this would be a solution to the problem for the moment. When the farm was sold, he’d have that money, whatever Hannah thought. He was the head of the house and as such he’d insist Josie’s inheritance be passed over to him. No need though to upset Hannah by telling her that, not yet anyway. He nodded sagely. ‘Let’s try it for three months or so,’ he said. ‘See how it goes.’

‘Okay, Arthur,’ Hannah said, trying to hide her pleasure. She hadn’t thought that marrying Arthur would mean a total cessation of work from the beginning, though she’d known that her hours would have to definitely change in some way. But at first, Arthur had been adamant that he wanted her at home full-time.

After three months, things might be different, but then again they might not. ‘Gloria will be so pleased,’ Hannah said. She gave a sudden shiver of excitement. ‘I can’t wait to see her again,’ she went on. ‘Josie, too, of course.’

Arthur gave a grunt, but said nothing further, never a man for small chat. Now that the matter had been resolved satisfactorily, he retreated behind the paper he’d bought at the station.

Hannah didn’t mind. She lay back in the seat and watched the miles being eaten away. She wished she had a little gift for the two of them, but she hadn’t even a stick of rock for Josie. Guiltily, she remembered her reckless spending on the slot machines that had swallowed up so much money.

Still what was gone was gone. No use crying over spilt milk was one of Gloria’s sayings and an apt one, Hannah always felt. And that, thought Hannah, is true about my less than satisfactory marriage too.

Despite supposed to be helping Gloria, Josie had run to peep out of the visitors’ lounge window at the front of the house half a dozen times before she saw the taxi turn into the road. ‘They’re here,’ she screamed.

‘All right, all right, I’m not deaf,’ Gloria said, emerging from the kitchen as she spoke, drying her large red hands on a towel. But though her words were sharp, her eyes twinkled, and Josie knew she was pleased Hannah was home too.

Josie barely heard her anyway. She already had the door wrenched open and was halfway down the path.

Arthur and Hannah had emerged from the taxi and were standing with the cases around them when Josie threw herself at Hannah. Hannah felt a sudden rush of love for the child she’d not wanted originally and held her close in a tight hug.

Behind her, Gloria was urging them in. ‘Come in and get a meal inside you. Josie has had her things packed up since just after breakfast. The house is all ready for you. I’ve been over and seen to it. Bought you some basics to give you a start at least, if you’re determined to go there tonight. Lit the fires as well today and yesterday and aired the beds. Can’t be too careful, I say. A house not lived in can easy get damp and September can be a treacherous month.’

Hannah let her talk. It was her way and she was kindness itself. She smiled at her and the beam Gloria gave in reply nearly split her face in two.

Oh, Hannah thought, I’m glad to be back home.

Chapter Five

If Hannah could have confided in Gloria she could have told her that her contentment in marriage had lasted just six weeks, until the end of October. It hadn’t been a bed of roses until then of course, for the problems in the bedroom, which Arthur had never managed to control, had caused him great distress.

Added to that, his meanness, which had reared its ugly head on honeymoon, continued into their married life. He doled out meagre amounts of housekeeping every Friday evening, examined the shopping lists meticulously and quizzed Hannah for hours if she asked for more.

Apart from that, Hannah disliked his treatment of Josie. Despite his promise of trying his best to get on with her Hannah couldn’t help feeling that if that was his best, she’d hate to see his worst, for he’d never really taken to the child. Sometimes he was so open in showing his dislike and resentment, that Hannah became frustrated and angry with him.

Then one day, towards the very end of October, Arthur came home from work in a foul mood. He’d been odd for a few days, morose and snappy, but Hannah, thinking he maybe had a problem at work that he didn’t want to talk about, didn’t worry too much about it. But Arthur had no problem at work; his problem was his marriage and that meant Hannah.

Despite inheriting the house and hints the boss was dropping about dependable married men, he doubted he’d have been swayed to marry anyone if Mrs Emmerson hadn’t urged him to ask Hannah. And he had to admit that he’d been flattered when she’d accepted his proposal.

He’d been aware he had a sexual problem. He knew his penis didn’t go hard, but then he thought he’d never given it occasion to. Before Hannah, he’d never had any encounter of that type, knowing his mother wouldn’t have liked it. And not having discussed the matter of a hardened penis with anyone, he didn’t know how normal it was and what to do about it. In fact, he was so hazy about the sexual act that eventually, and with great embarrassment, he’d entered a shop in one of the seedier areas of Birmingham and bought himself a book on the matter.

However, it hadn’t touched on his problems at all. The book seemed to take it for granted that the desire and love the man had for his partner would make the penis erect naturally. It wasn’t something you could ask anyone about, not even a doctor and Arthur had no idea what to do.

In his heart he knew he shouldn’t have married, but he had and that was that. Initially, his abortive attempts caused him shame and embarrassment, then utter humiliation and eventually, anger.

And this anger he turned on Hannah, pushing away her arms when she sought to comfort him that night. ‘Get off me! It’s all your bloody fault,’ he shouted at her when he’d again tried and failed.

‘What is? What is it?’

‘You know what! A bloody temptress that’s what you are!’

Still Hannah felt sorry for him. She was as confused as Arthur over his sexual problem. Like him, she could never bring herself to speak about it, but she understood how it must make him feel. ‘I told you it doesn’t matter,’ she said consolingly.

‘Of course it bloody matters. Are you some sodding imbecile that can’t understand that?’

Hannah gave a small gasp. This was the side of Arthur she’d never seen before. The face he turned towards her was almost puce, he was so angry, and his eyes were wild, his hair standing in spikes where he’d run his hands through it.

Still she persisted. ‘Look, Arthur, I know it’s important, but there’s plenty of time. Shall I pop down and make us both a cup of tea?’

‘Tea! Tea! You bloody stupid bugger, you,’ Arthur cried, pushing at her so that she fell on the bed where he straddled her, holding down her arms while he spat out a stream of abuse, vile words, some Hannah had never heard before.

She thrashed on the bed to free herself, but Arthur held her fast, tightening his grip on her arms while he continued to yell obscenities at her. She closed her eyes for the light was still on and she couldn’t bear the look in his eyes, nor his thin lips, rimmed with spittle.

Eventually, the violent tirade was over and Arthur rolled away from her. Through anger, he’d felt a stirring inside him that any desire he’d felt for Hannah had never achieved, but still he was ashamed of his behaviour.

As for Hannah, she felt abused. If Arthur had had sex with her, which would have been his right after all, she’d have felt it at least showed normal behaviour. But this filthy, vitriolic abuse he threw at her was hard to bear and she hurt and ached all over, too, from his rough handling. Every time she closed her eyes she relived the scene and it was the early hours of the morning before she finally slept.

In the morning, she lay and tried to analyse the situation. Arthur was not naturally a violent man. Obviously, his frustrations had spilled over, that was all. Maybe she should battle to overcome her reticence and try and convince him to seek help. Perhaps there were things he could do, drugs he could take. They could do wonderful things these days.

Arthur, coming into the bedroom from the bathroom after a shave, saw that Hannah was awake and knelt down by her side of the bed. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said, ‘really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

Hannah smiled at him. Hadn’t she just told herself that that was the way of it? A one-off occurrence that would never happen again and so didn’t have to be referred to at all. ‘It’s all right,’ she told him. ‘I understand.’

‘You are a wonderful wife,’ Arthur said earnestly, giving Hannah’s cheek a kiss. ‘The most wonderful wife in all the world.’

It was a little harder for Hannah to face Josie, who showed by her plain embarrassment and downcast eyes that she’d heard every word of the confrontation in the bedroom the previous night. Still, it wasn’t something Hannah felt she had to explain and certainly not to a child of nine, so she busied herself making breakfast.

Later, Hannah made her way to the guesthouse where she would help Gloria clear up after the breakfast, tidy and clean the rooms and prepare the evening meals for her paying guests.

It was only when the guesthouse was particularly full that Hannah would be required to wait on in the evenings now. Most times, Gloria said she could manage and Hannah was home in time to eat with Arthur and Josie.

Normally, she enjoyed the work and the company although that morning she wished she didn’t have to go, for she was tired. She knew too she didn’t look her best and that Gloria would be sure to remark on it. And she did, after a swift look at Hannah’s face as she entered the kitchen. ‘You all right?’ she asked ‘You don’t look at all well.’

‘No, I’m all right,’ Hannah said. ‘I … I didn’t get much sleep.’

‘Oh yes,’ Gloria said with a knowing wink and when Hannah flushed crimson she went on, ‘I mean it’s natural and you are married.’

‘There is nothing natural in our marriage,’ Hannah wanted to cry. But this was something she could not share, not with anyone, so she forced herself to smile at Gloria as she exchanged her outdoor coat for an overall and began her work for the day.

For the next week things went on as normal and on 5th November, Hannah, Arthur and Josie went to a bonfire and fireworks party, which a friend of Gloria’s was having in their garden. ‘There will be soup and sausages and things to eat,’ Hannah told Arthur. ‘Do say it’s all right?’

Arthur had no desire after a day at work to strike out again into the cold streets to watch a fire and a few paltry fireworks, but he went for Hannah’s sake. She intimated that it was for Josie, but really she was as excited as the child.

He knew because Hannah had told him that they’d not had bonfire nights in Ireland, but Hannah had gone to her first one with friends from the hotel the first year she was in England. By the second year it was 1939, war had been declared, and bonfires and fireworks had been banned.

He wanted to please Hannah, because he still felt incredibly guilty about his behaviour and it wasn’t as if it would actually cost anything. That made the decision as far as Arthur was concerned.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I consider it an utter waste of money buying fireworks to light up the sky and can never understand people wanting to do it, but if you want to go so much, we will look in for an hour or so.’

Hannah and Josie had a wonderful time. Josie’s eyes were wide with astonishment at the fireworks. Roman candles, Golden Rain and Catherine wheels. Even the names were exciting and the bright colours of them sparking into the black night brought oohs and ahhs from more than Josie who’d eaten so many sausages, Hannah said she’d never sleep.

But she did, they all did, and the next morning Hannah got up in a buoyant mood. Life wasn’t so bad, she thought, and Arthur could be handled easily with a little care and attention. Her good mood lasted all that day and even Gloria commented on it.

But Arthur came home again that evening in a foul mood. All day he’d fought his conscience because he knew he wanted to make love to Hannah and he knew not only would he fail, but also that it would probably turn out the same as last time, and he would be ashamed of himself because of it.

Hannah was unprepared for the assault that night, relaxed and at ease. She was pulling her nightie over her head when Arthur entered the room. In two strides he was behind her, wrapping one arm vice-like around her waist while pulling the nightie from her with the other.

Hannah gave a yelp and hearing the material tear, she cried out sharply, ‘Arthur, stop! What’s got into you?’