Walking Back to Happiness

‘Oh, I know it did,’ Elizabeth said, handing Hannah a plate. ‘I’m not meaning to make light of it, but somehow while she was alive, he didn’t seem able to let go and get on with his own life. You do understand me?’

Oh yes, Hannah fully understood.

‘Of course, my dear, you’ve known him some time.’

‘I wouldn’t say I knew him well exactly,’ Hannah said. ‘After his mother died he’d come and stay at Mrs Emmerson’s guesthouse when he had business in the Midlands, often for weeks at a time, but I’d never spoken to him more than mere pleasantries. Then, not long after he’d inherited the house in Erdington, he asked me to marry him. I had no idea he was interested in me in that way.’

‘My dear, any man in the land would be interested in you,’ Elizabeth said with a laugh. ‘My own husband is quite besotted. Oh, don’t you blush, my dear,’ she chided, seeing the crimson flushing on Hannah’s face. ‘You must know how attractive you are. Tell me,’ she went on, turning to Hannah in a confidential manner. ‘Was Arthur your first love?’

Hannah swallowed deeply. She’d told no one about Mike, no one but Gloria, but she’d never been asked so directly before. ‘Don’t be upset or embarrassed, my dear,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It would never go any further than here.’

‘There was someone,’ Hannah admitted. ‘I … I was engaged to him. We … We were going to get married by special licence, just in a registry office, you know. He had leave coming up, but we knew it was likely to be just forty-eight hours. We were due to tell his parents then, but we didn’t foresee any problems. We’d met many times and they liked me well enough.’

Hannah had stopped even attempting to dry anything and stood with a plate in one hand, the tea towel held to her chest with the other, distress showing in every inch of her body. Her eyes were shining with tears and the sense of loss struck her suddenly and with such force, it almost took her breath away.

Elizabeth knew that Hannah was back there with her soldier and she made no movement, nor any attempt to speak. The room was very still and Hannah, her voice made husky with the tears that had squeezed out of her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks, went on. ‘It was all arranged when suddenly all leave was cancelled and he was transferred south.

‘Everyone was talking about the “Big Push”, but although I wanted the war to be over, I also worried for Mike. He’d been injured before, but I had a funny feeling about this. I suppose I sort of knew when the letters stopped, but I hoped. You see, I had received no official news. That went to his parents.

‘I didn’t know that at first. When I’d had no letters for almost three weeks, I called to see them, frantically worried. They lived in Dewsbury in Huddersfield, quite a distance from the hotel where I worked then. I found their house in darkness. Boarded up! Empty!

‘It was about another couple of months before I heard any more,’ Hannah said, ‘and that was from his friend, Luke,’ remembering the letter Tilly brought to her just before she fled from the home. ‘He told me Mike had been killed minutes after landing on the beach. He’d been caught in the blast himself and ended up in hospital on the south coast. He’d been out of it for a few months and not in any state to write to anyone.

‘It was his mother visiting him that had given him the news that Mike’s family had just disappeared. He’d not taken it in at first. He was very ill and still getting to grips with Mike being dead. They’d been special friends for years.

‘It was afterwards he realised I would probably know nothing. He still couldn’t write because he’d broken nearly every bone in his body in the blast and was in plaster up to the eyeballs. He dictated a letter to the nurse telling me everything he knew, which was precious little. I … I remember I went a little wild at the time.’

She looked at Elizabeth suddenly, her face contorted in grief, her eyes ravaged. ‘I was beside myself,’ she said. ‘Half the time, I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew I had to get away, everything in Leeds reminded me of Mike, places we’d been to together, people we knew. I couldn’t stay.’ She stopped and her voice dropped to a mere whisper. ‘If I’d had Mike’s parents’ support, things might have been so different. As it was …’

‘Is that why you came to Birmingham to Mrs Emmerson’s?’ Elizabeth asked gently.

Hannah barely heard the question. She remembered how fearful she’d been then, beaten down with shame, panic-ridden. Nowhere she could turn to. The plate she hadn’t been aware she’d still been holding slipped through her fingers and shattered to pieces on the tiled floor.

Stupefied, Hannah stared at it for a couple of seconds before dropping to her knees and beginning to gather up the pieces into the towel while she gabbled, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs Banks, truly sorry. I really don’t know what came over me. I just … I don’t know how it happened. What must you think of me?’

‘My dear! My dear!’ Elizabeth said soothingly, lifting Hannah to her feet as Reg’s voice called from the other room, ‘You two women having a smashing time out there?’

Hannah looked towards the kitchen door, terrified Reg would appear there any second and order her and Arthur from the house. Elizabeth caught the look and made a dismissive flap of her hand towards the door. ‘Don’t mind him, that’s his attempt at a joke. As for the plate, don’t worry about it. It’s just an old thing.’

It was no such thing, it was one of a Wedgwood set that Elizabeth was very fond of, but she felt Hannah had been so terribly upset by the revelations and remembrances that she’d urged her to tell, that she didn’t have the heart to tell her. Elizabeth had felt the raw emotion running through Hannah, making her whole body quiver, as she’d helped her up and now she eased the young woman into a kitchen chair. ‘Now you stay there,’ she admonished. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea and that broken pottery will be cleared up in no time.’

Hannah had been glad to sit, for her legs had shook so much and a roaring had begun in her ears and filled her head and she’d been afraid she was going to faint. But to her great relief, she didn’t and eventually the pounding of her heart eased and her breathing returned to normal.

That incident between Elizabeth and Hannah was never referred to again, but it had forged a friendship between them. This had been noticed by both Arthur and Reg and while Reg had been pleased, Arthur had been delighted. He’d told Hannah over and over what an asset she was to him already.

So, kneeling beside her at the altar, Hannah knew Arthur thought he’d made a good bargain in the marriage. What of her? What had she latched on to Arthur for? She knew well why she’d married the man; because she wanted a home of her own and to be a respectable wife and most importantly, the desperate longing in her for a child.

She was glad Josie had come into her life when she did, although initially she hadn’t wanted to look after her. Her coming had eased the ache Hannah carried inside her. This had especially been the case when homesickness had made her vulnerable and upset and Hannah could soothe her.

Eventually, she would have a child of her own, not that she imagined Arthur would make excessive demands on her, and although Arthur was a man who’d never touch her heart, she would be a good, dutiful wife. And then hopefully before too long, a devoted mother. Her life would then be complete and she’d be content.

Gloria watched the couple kneeling at the altar and wished Hannah and Arthur could have had a week at Blackpool, rather than just a mere three days. Josie had been keen to help, before and after school. The child had learned a lot since she’d come from Ireland and now she was a dab hand at many things in the kitchens and grand at serving the meals. She seemed to like doing it too, or at any rate she was always willing enough, so Hannah didn’t have to worry about her.

But, somehow, she didn’t think it had been Hannah’s decision to have such a short honeymoon, but Arthur’s. Hannah claimed he couldn’t afford it, but Gloria was sure he could. One thing that did worry her about Arthur was his streak of meanness and she hoped Hannah could get him over it.

Gloria had told Hannah before the wedding that she should put her foot down. ‘Start as you mean to go on, my girl,’ she advised.

‘He’s saving for the wedding and honeymoon and all,’ Hannah said. But Gloria was sure he’d have a bit put by, for hadn’t he been working for years with only himself to see to and she could bet his mother left him something. And then his boss, so Hannah said, had promised him a rise on his marriage, when he would have a wife to keep.

Hannah, too, was afraid that Arthur was mean. She’d never told Gloria because she would go on and on about it. But the few times they’d been to the pictures, he’d never bought Hannah anything either going in, or in the interval. The first time, as the lights went up in the interval and the girls had gone down the aisles with the ice creams and such, Arthur had remarked. ‘Never buy anything here. Places like these rip you off, don’t they?’

They probably did, but there was something just so right about sitting in the cinema, eating sweets or licking an ice cream. That was what she’d enjoyed with Mike on his short leaves home, when she’d beg, cajole and bribe fellow workers at the hotel to change shifts to be with him as often as possible.

And after the ice creams, they’d take advantage of the darkness to snuggle together. Not that Arthur did that either. He sat stiff and erect in the seat beside her and never ever held her hand which she would have welcomed. It would have been comforting and Hannah, above all things in the world, needed comfort, comfort and tenderness.

But what odds now? Hannah thought, as she got to her feet as the organ began to play. The die was cast and it was too late for any regrets. Hannah was now Mrs Arthur Bradley and would stay that way for life.

Chapter Four

Hannah had been terribly excited to be going to Blackpool for her honeymoon and it was a shame that it turned out to be such a letdown for her. Her pleasure had been sustained in the train journey, especially when Arthur sat and held her hand, and had only begun to slip when she stepped out of the taxi outside the small and rather dingy hotel where they were to stay.

The crabbed woman who described herself as owner showed them to their room and issued them with a list of hotel rules and regulations and did so without even a show of welcome from her sullen mouth and hard, cold eyes.

Hannah circled the depressing room. The paintwork was a drab brown, the faded wallpaper was peeling in places and the bed, she tested by plumping herself down on it, was lumpy. She glanced up at Arthur and said, ‘Not very nice is it?’

She was immediately sorry when she saw Arthur’s face colour. ‘It wasn’t easy finding anywhere,’ he said.

‘I know. I’m sorry. That sounded very ungrateful,’ Hannah said, contrite.

‘And at least we have the meal to look forward to,’ Arthur said. ‘They usually serve dinner at one o’clock, but I persuaded them to cook us a full meal when we arrived as a special favour. I knew we’d probably be hungry.’

Maybe a meal would put a new complexion on the matter entirely, Hannah thought. Maybe food would also still the panicky doubts that she’d done the wrong thing in marrying Arthur that were making her feel a bit sick. She pushed the doubts away, stood up and forced a smile on her face. ‘You’re right, Arthur. It’s hunger making me so miserable. Shall we go down?’

Just a little later, Hannah was to sit in the dark, unwelcoming dining room and think that while the hotel staff might have agreed to serve them a full dinner, they were doing so begrudgingly. Arthur and Hannah were the only ones in the room, for high tea – the usual meal at that time of the evening – was well over and the guests had dispersed either to their rooms, the residents’ lounge or the small bar their landlady had pointed out on their arrival. Hannah couldn’t blame them, glancing around the room as she waited for the food to arrive. She knew it wasn’t a place she’d have chosen to linger in.

And then the insipid, unappetising meal came and Hannah felt her spirits plummet. It was served by a girl with a sulky face and lank, greasy hair who laid the plates before them in a ‘like it, or lump it’ style.

And Hannah did not like it. The grey meat was tough and stringy, the vegetables over-cooked, the mashed potatoes lumpy and the whole lot of it covered with glutinous gravy that was barely warm. However, she refused to get totally depressed by it, even when the apple pie she’d ordered had more pie than apple. The custard she’d declined, remembering her experience with the gravy. Never mind, she told herself, we shan’t spend much time in the hotel. Except, a little voice inside her said, for the bedroom.

She glanced across at Arthur and her stomach contracted as she thought of what lay ahead. Arthur caught her look and smiled. ‘Do you fancy a walk, my dear?’

Hannah was glad that Arthur seemed to want to postpone the moment when they’d have to retire to that uninviting and chilly bedroom as much as she did and she agreed eagerly.

Once outside though, she wondered at the wisdom of such action, for the wind was fierce and snatched away all attempts of conversation. But as they neared the promenade clutched tightly together from necessity rather than desire, she heard the tantalising music of the fair.

Anyone who’d ever been to Blackpool told her about that fair, the Golden Mile they called it, and she’d caught a glimpse of it as they’d passed it in a taxi earlier that evening. But it was one thing to pass it quickly in the dusky half-light, quite another to come upon it in its full glory, ablaze with flashing lights of all colours, now that night had fallen over the town. Music from various rides was thumping all around them, mixed with screams and laughter.

Hannah had never seen anything like it and her eyes were everywhere and wide with astonishment. Beautiful carousel horses pranced round and round with laughing people astride them and just feet away, there were other carriages attached somehow to a huge big wheel spinning wildly, those inside them screaming like mad. And no wonder, Hannah thought. ‘Oh, Arthur,’ she said, breathless with the excitement of it all. ‘I’d be frightened to death on that.’

Arthur laughed and squeezed her hand. Hannah passed many rides that night that alarmed her. One had little cars running around a track, which dropped so suddenly that Hannah gave a little cry of terror, sure a car would be thrown from the tracks, spilling out its unfortunate occupants. Arthur hugged her tighter, touched by her fear brought about by her inexperience of such things.

She stood mesmerised by a small area where cars darted about and seemed intent on bashing into other cars. They were attached to wires or something in the roof, she noticed, which sparked in a frightening way. ‘What are they?’ she asked Arthur. ‘And what are they doing?’

‘They’re bumper cars.’

‘Don’t people get hurt?’

‘Not often,’ Arthur said. ‘Look at the thick rubber around them. That’s the whole point of it.’

Other booths advertised the ‘Ghost Train’, or ‘House of Horrors’, or ‘Hall of Mirrors’ and Arthur and Hannah were encouraged to sample the delights inside. ‘Come on, sir,’ said the woman outside the Ghost Train. ‘Dark as pitch inside and filled with goolies. Gives you a chance to hold your young lady tight.’

Smiling, Arthur shook his head and turned away and then Hannah saw her first pink candyfloss. ‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Candyfloss.’

‘It looks like cotton wool.’

‘It tastes nothing like it. It’s spun sugar,’ Arthur told her. ‘There are toffee apples too.’

But he didn’t offer to buy Hannah either and she was too shy of him to ask, but she felt disappointed and told herself not to be silly, she couldn’t sample all the delights of the place on her first evening. Arthur didn’t offer to take her on any ride either and in fact, told her firmly that they were a waste of money.

Hannah supposed they were, but they appeared such fun. ‘People seem to enjoy them though, Arthur,’ she ventured.

‘Hmph. A fool and his money are soon parted,’ Arthur said pompously.

‘But we could spend a little, couldn’t we?’ Hannah said. ‘To sort of get value out of the place.’

‘“Value out of the place!’” Arthur repeated. ‘My dear, we’ve just had a wedding which was not cheap, despite the help Mrs Emmerson gave us and there was the train journey here, and the lodging house we’re staying in. Believe me, there is little over for indulging in a fair. Never mind,’ he went on consolingly, as he patted her arm. ‘Women are not supposed to understand such matters.’

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again. She’d paid for Josie’s outfit and her own, but the small reception in the room behind the Lyndhurst pub afterwards had been paid for by Gloria on her insistence. The honeymoon was Arthur’s contribution, and maybe it had cost a lot and there was little over, but surely just one or two rides wouldn’t break the bank?

‘Tomorrow,’ Arthur said, ‘we’ll take a walk along the front. That at least won’t cost us a penny. And now, I think we should make for home. I’m ready for bed myself.’

Hannah felt her face flame. The pleasures she’d lovingly shared with Mike Murphy she could now share legally and properly with her husband. She hoped he’d never need know that she wasn’t a virgin, for she knew a man like him would expect her to be.

But Hannah needn’t have worried. They returned to the hotel frozen, their red cheeks and dishevelled clothes showing the power of the wind. Arthur smiled at her as she took off her coat and tried to flatten her hair. ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘You look lovely. Would you like a nightcap?’

Hannah had never cared overmuch for any alcohol she’d ever tasted, so she said, ‘Not for me, Arthur. I’m chilled through and I’d really like a cup of tea.’

Arthur laughed. ‘Really, my dear. You can’t have a cup of tea. If you want warming up, I’ll buy you a brandy. That should do the trick, but don’t get too much of a taste for it. It’s very expensive stuff.’

Hannah, from the first sip, knew she’d never develop a taste for brandy. She thought it was like the worst medicine she’d ever been forced to swallow. It did warm her up, however, although she felt her throat to be on fire.

It didn’t stop the shaking inside though, for that wasn’t due just to the cold, and her heart began to jump about in her chest when Arthur whispered in her ear just as she drained her glass. ‘Shall we go up?’

Upstairs in the bedroom, Arthur seemed like a different being. His eyes looked heavy and his mouth rather slack and Hannah knew he was filled with desire for her. She wished she felt something for him, but he stirred her not at all.

But, she reminded herself, she’d married him. Because a priest spoke words over them and they had a paper proving they were man and wife, Arthur had a perfect right to do as he pleased and she had to submit to him. She’d never felt she’d submitted to Mike. She’d wanted sex as much as he had. And now, though she didn’t love Arthur, she liked him well enough and in a way longed for fulfilment, so why was she shaking and afraid? She at least knew what it was about, though she’d have to hide that fact from Arthur, so there was no need at all for her to feel nervous. It was perfectly normal and natural and she told herself to get a grip.

She undressed hastily and slid under the covers, hiding her nakedness. ‘Put out the light, Arthur,’ she begged, and Arthur did before getting into bed beside her. Hannah felt Arthur trembling and knowing he was as nervous as she was, she put her arms around him. ‘You are a very beautiful girl, Hannah, do you know that?’ he said and without waiting for a reply went on, ‘I feel a very fortunate man tonight.’

‘Oh Arthur …’ Embarrassed, Hannah began to protest. However, she got no further for Arthur kissed her, but not the tender, tentative kiss she’d been expecting and would have welcomed. Arthur’s kiss was like a stamp of ownership and Hannah felt her lips pushed against her teeth. And then Arthur parted her lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth till she felt she would choke and she began to thrash her head backwards and forwards.

This seemed to excite Arthur further. Panting heavily, he released Hannah and then he sat astride her, kneading her breasts savagely with his fingers, squeezing her nipples until she cried out in pain.

Arthur smiled, taking Hannah’s cries to be born of desire, and slipped one hand between her legs while the other trailed over her body.

Hannah opened her eyes that she’d kept closed in pain and saw Arthur’s face contorted with desire and she felt excitement building inside her. And yet, she felt no hardening of Arthur’s penis against her and looking down, she saw it between her legs, as soft and flaccid as when he’d begun.

Arthur caught Hannah’s eyes on him and his face flushed crimson with shame. He threw back the covers from them both and sat on the bed, his head in his hands, and began to sob.

Hannah dampened down her own frustration, for she felt sorry for Arthur and she knelt up in bed and gently put her arms around him. He raised his eyes, hardly able to believe what Hannah was doing. He felt inadequate and very ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Ssh, it doesn’t matter.’

‘You … You don’t mind. You don’t despise me?’

‘No. No, of course I don’t despise you. The very idea!’ Hannah said.

‘But … But it’s our wedding day … Our wedding night.’

‘And such a lot of nonsense spoken about it,’ Hannah said fiercely. ‘It would put a lot of stress and strain on anyone. It’s a wonder any couple does it the first night. Maybe they don’t indeed. No one would ever know. Don’t worry, Arthur. Haven’t we the rest of our lives to get it right?’

Arthur felt relief flood over him. He’d been aware of this problem all his adult life, though it had never bothered him, but he’d thought and hoped that with Hannah, whom he admired and respected, it might resolve itself.

And yet Hannah proved to be so understanding, so sympathetic, so special, that Arthur began to feel better about himself. He allowed her to coax him back to bed where she snuggled down under the covers, and curled her body around his. She lay awake long after Arthur slept and vowed to herself that she’d never make Arthur feel bad about that night.

The next morning, Arthur seemed fully recovered and was his usual attentive self and Hannah knew that that was how he was going to deal with it – pretend it had never happened.

She took her lead from him. That day, they strode out after breakfast up to the front. Hannah had never seen the sea, except for the grey expanse of water she’d crossed on her way to Ireland.

She’d never heard the roar of it, or seen a long beach of dull, beige-coloured sand and large grey and black boulders. She’d never seen the rising swells of it and the white-fringed rollers that came crashing down on to the rocks in a sea of swirling foam. Despite the biting wind, Hannah was fascinated and stood watching it until Arthur drew her away and put his arms around her shivering body. ‘Come on, you’ll get your death of cold,’ he said.

‘Oh, but, Arthur, it’s so beautiful. Majestic, somehow.’

‘And free,’ Arthur added.

Hannah wished he hadn’t said that. It spoilt the moment. After a while though, Hannah was chilled through and she looked longingly at the numerous cafés around them. ‘I’d love a cup of tea or coffee, Arthur,’ she said. ‘It would thaw me out.’

‘Nonsense, my dear, it’s not cold, just bracing,’ Arthur said. ‘And really it’s pointless wasting our money in such places. You’ll spoil your appetite for dinner at the lodgings and after all, that is paid for. We’ll just walk a little further and then turn back and be in good time for it. Hold my arm and you’ll feel warmer.’

Hannah felt no warmer, but held on to Arthur’s arm anyway, unable to think of anything further to say. Anyhow, she was interested in seeing Blackpool Tower, which Arthur told her was modelled on the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France, and she gazed at it in awe. There was an entrance fee to climb it with delights promised on every floor, but Arthur declared it to be a total waste of money. ‘What would you want to climb up there for, my dear?’ he asked Hannah incredulously, when she expressed a desire to go. ‘You’re complaining of the cold now. Don’t you think you’ll be blown to pieces and colder than ever on the top of that?’