The Black Mountains Page 23

  The memory of a December night and a boy, half seen in the fog, came to Alfred. Then, in a blinding flash of realization, a hundred other things fitted into place so completely that he marvelled at his own stupidity in not seeing the truth before. The change in Rebecca’s manner, her gaiety, the number of times she had been out unescorted in the past months, and the way he had found her only this morning admiring her body in the mirror—yes, that particularly—could mean one thing and one only.

  A boy! Rebecca was deceiving him with a boy, like some common, whoring slut! He had raised her with firmness and decency and the moment he allowed her a little freedom she behaved in this disgraceful, filthy manner!

  Almost beside himself, he hurried on, and as he rounded the corner of the church building, he saw Marjorie again, standing beneath the yew trees at the churchyard’s edge, and looking down across the low stone wall towards the farm track. Her eyes were shaded against the sun as she peered anxiously to left and right, and with her arms raised, the thin material of her blouse strained enticingly across her slender back. But for once, in his blind fury, he hardly noticed. He left the path, his boots making no sound on the soft grass, and came up behind her without Marjorie knowing he was there. Then his rage burst from him in an explosive: “So!”

  She spun round, gasping with fright and turning pale as she had done at the garden party.

  “Mr Church …” she stammered.

  He towered over her, his face purple with fury.

  “Where is Rebecca?”

  She swallowed, recovering herself a little, though her eyes were still round with fear.

  “Rebecca? I told you, she’s …”

  “Don’t lie to me!” He caught her by the arms. “ You’ve done enough lying, you brazen hussy! All this time she’s been deceiving me, and you’ve been helping her. Don’t deny it!”

  “But Mr Church, I didn’t mean to …”

  “Lies! All lies! Just now you looked me in the eye and told me she was in the Rectory, while all the time … You’re lying, cheating vipers, the pair of you!”

  His fingers bit painfully into her arms, pulling her closer, and his breath came in harsh gasps. Sweat poured down his face, and his eyes were wide and crazed, the eyes of a maniac. Terrified now, she tried to break free, but he held her fast.

  “Lying, whoring vipers!” he roared.

  The smell of him came at her then, the camphor in his clothes, the sweat and his fetid breath, all in one nauseating cloud. She twisted her head away, retching, and he towered over her, half-lifting her off her feet and pressing her back. She struggled in blind panic, too shocked even to cry out, but he was too strong for her. For agonizing, timeless moments she pulled and wriggled and squirmed, kicking at him helplessly.

  “Please!” she sobbed. “ Oh, stop, please stop!”

  But he was like a man possessed. Back, back, he pressed her until she thought her spine would snap.

  Then, just as the edges of her consciousness began closing in like the dark, curling edges of an old photograph, the pressure seemed to lessen, and as she fought her way back through reeling senses, she became aware that he was no longer looking at her, but beyond her, towards the river. For another moment, still paralysed with fear, she dangled from his grasp like a limp rag doll. Then, with a sudden violent movement, he flung her aside. She hit the ground with a sick thud and rolled over in the long grass.

  He was staring still towards the river, but Marjorie did not stop now to wonder what it was he had seen. She only knew she had to get away from him, back to the garden party and normality. Somehow, she found herself on her feet, and picking up her skirts, she fled. In the bright sunshine she was shivering violently, and her teeth were chattering. Back across the grass she ran, darting between the old stone tombstones and half-buried kerbs, and as she ran, she cried softly, “Dear God, he’s mad! Mad!”

  FOR REBECCA and Ted, the afternoon had been a perfect one.

  In the cool places under the trees, where the heat of the sun had been unable to penetrate, they had lazed in the long dry grass, Ted sprawling full length, Rebecca sitting tidily with her knees drawn up beneath her long skirt and her hat tossed down beside her.

  They had talked for a while and dreamed for a while, enjoying the sounds and the smells of a summer afternoon. Beside them, the river, still full enough from the recent rain, had gurgled over the stones, and there was the occasional splashing flurry as a moorhen scuttled for the bank.

  Ted, looking up at the blue sky above the tracery of green, was reminded of another summer day, long ago, when he had come to the river to swim and been caught in the act by Rosa Clements. He chuckled to himself, on the point of relating the story to Rebecca, but at the last moment, looking up at her small dreaming face, he checked himself. She might not understand. She might even be shocked. She would know nothing of the pleasures of swimming naked in ice-cold water, that much was certain, and in spite of the desire a look or a touch from her could stir in him, he wanted, in some perverse way, to keep her as innocent as she was. Although he longed to possess her, he knew he should wait until the time was right if it meant waiting forever.

  Sensing his dreaming mood, she turned to look at him, pensively.

  “Hello,” she said.

  He pulled a blade of grass, reaching out to tickle her nose, and when she tried to snatch it from him he pulled her down beside him.

  “Stop it!” she whispered, laughter bubbling in her throat “ Let me go, you bully.”

  He held her fast, her head against his shoulder, and when her half-hearted struggles subsided he stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her eyes.

  “Oh, Becky.” His breath on her face was warm and soft like the summer breeze, his voice low with suppressed longing. His hand moved gently across the top of her breast, hovering on the buttons of her dress.

  “Ted, you wouldn’t …” Her hand covered his, and he felt her tense against him.

  Desire flared within him so that he longed to push her down into the dry grass and feel her body, soft and yielding, beneath his. But even as the passion within him mounted, he felt her fingers cool and restricting on his and heard her whisper again urgently, “Ted, no! You mustn’t! You wouldn’t, would you, Ted?”

  With a supreme effort he regained control of himself.

  “No, love. I wouldn’t. That’s not to say I don’t want to though.”

  “Oh, Ted!” She raised herself on one elbow, looking down at him, but today there was no reproach in her eyes, only tenderness. “Oh, Ted, is it very bad—wanting me?”

  He felt a moment’s mild surprise. She was learning, he thought. The Becky he had first met six months ago would never have said a thing like that.

  “It’s not so bad,” he said. “Oh, in one way, maybe. It hurts, here, when I look at you. Did you know that? And when you kiss me, well, it’s enough to drive a man crazy. But in another way, it’s not bad at all. Because one of these days you’re going to belong to me, and until then I’m looking after you.”

  She nodded, satisfied, and snuggled down beside him again. All around them in the grass the crickets sang and the air was heavy with the scents of summer. He reached for her hand, pressing it against his mouth. It smelled of soap and of grass and that elusive, hauntingly sweet smell of sun-warmed flesh. He kissed her fingers one by one, and then he kissed her palm.

  “You are going to marry me, aren’t you, Becky?” he asked.

  For a moment she did not reply. He looked at her sharply, afraid he had upset or offended her in some way, and to his surprise he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

  “Becky?” he said tentatively, and she turned towards him, the tears spilling down her cheeks. But in spite of the tears, she was smiling.

  “Oh, Ted, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry …”

  “What are you crying for, then?”

  “Because … oh, I don’t know. I can’t explain. I just am!”

  He raised himself on one elbow above her, loose
ning the pins in her hair so that it spread around her face and tumbled in the grass. He traced the line of her nose and her chin and her mouth with one finger and then he kissed her. Beneath his, her mouth was soft and yielding but tight shut like a child’s. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his until the blood pounded in his veins and the ache inside him became sharp and insistent. But still her mouth was closed, and the innocence of her turned his passion to tenderness.

  He raised his face an inch or two, whispering at the small closed mouth, “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “You mean am I going to marry you? Oh, Ted, do you need to ask?”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Of course! When we can. I mean, I don’t know when it will be. Father …” She broke off, determined not to spoil the moment with thoughts of her father. “There’s nothing else I really want,” she added simply.

  For a while they lay in each other’s arms while the summer afternoon drowsed on. Her virginity seemed to him almost a holy thing, all the more special because of the more brazen girls he had known, and he felt in some strange way that his protection of her was one of the most vital parts of their love.

  At last she sat up, straightening her skirt and tucking her hair into its pins once more.

  “It must be getting late. We’d better go back to the Rectory.”

  Reluctantly he stood up, then pulled her to her feet, holding her at arm’s length and looking at her. They kissed once more, then hand in hand and without a backward glance at their special place under the trees they started back towards town, following the path along the river bank until they came to the spot where the water was shallow and a row of stepping stones bridged the river.

  “Come on, I’ll go first,” he said, going ahead of her then turning to steady her as she jumped, laughing, from one stone to the next. But on the centre stone she stopped, her face suddenly solemn, her hand going to her throat.

  “Becky?” he said. “ What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged, pushing the moment aside.

  “Nothing. A goose walked over my grave, that’s all.”

  “It’s colder out here in the middle of the river,” he said, but they both knew it wasn’t that.

  The grass on the Hillsbridge side of the river had been mown, but they stayed beneath the trees until they drew level with the small gate that led to the top end of the churchyard. Then they crossed the stubbly field and walked hand in hand along the rough lane beneath the wall that banked the higher ground of the churchyard.

  They had almost reached the main road when Rebecca suddenly stopped walking, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Ted glanced at her. “What’s the matter?”

  She did not answer. Her eyes were fixed on a tall, bearded figure who seemed to be standing on top of the churchyard wall, and the fear was naked in her face.

  “Who is it?” he asked. But he already knew.

  “My father.” There was a catch in her voice. “Dear God, it’s my father.”

  In spite of the heat of the afternoon sun, Ted felt a cold sweat on his forehead. The man was mountainous. Poised as he was on the high bank of the churchyard, he looked almost inhuman. For a moment Ted felt like turning to run, then he glanced at Rebecca, ashen-faced beside him, and controlled his apprehension.

  “Don’t worry,” he told her. “This had to come, sooner or later.”

  “But …”

  His fingers, holding hers urged her on. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  They walked on. Her father did not move until they were almost immediately below him. Then he turned to the flight of stone steps that were cut into the wall and came down on to the path to meet them face to face.

  Even on the same level he was an awesome figure, a full head taller than either of them. Twice, his mouth opened as if he was about to speak, twice it closed, as if the words were inadequate to express his feelings.

  Then, to his own surprise, Ted found himself saying, “Good afternoon, sir. Were you looking for Rebecca?”

  The effect was immediate. Alfred’s head came down like a bull about to charge and a pulse throbbed in his temple.

  “How dare you!” he roared. “And take your hands off my daughter!”

  Ted was startled, but he stood his ground and the Co-operative secretary drew a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Take your hands off her before I thrash the skin off your filthy back! If you think you can defile a decent girl and …”

  “He didn’t!” Rebecca sobbed.

  He turned on her, pulling her away from Ted. “As for you …” Words seemed to fail him and his face turned dark with rage before he recovered himself enough to go on. “As for you, when I get you home, you know what will happen to you!”

  Ted took a step towards him. “She’s done no wrong!”

  Alfred ignored him. “ You should see yourself, miss!” he bellowed at her. “Your skirt is crumpled, your hair is falling down, and full of grass. And all this on top of your lies! You’ve cheated and deceived your parents and dragged Marjorie down to your level. Well, I’ve promised you often enough to expect a thrashing if you disgraced yourself, but I never thought it would come to this.”

  “Now look here!” Young as he was, Ted was not unused to dealing with men. Since the age of twelve he had lived and worked amongst them on equal terms, and although he was wary of this mountainous, foul-mouthed Puritan, he was determined not to be overawed by him.

  But Alfred merely brushed him aside, venting his anger on Rebecca. To him, it seemed that she was the one who had sinned. The boy had only done what all men did given the chance, and satisfied his lust with the first girl who opened her legs to him. It was Rebecca who was to blame, and Rebecca he could castigate.

  “Pray God you are not with child!” he thundered at her, excited by her fear. “ If you are, I swear I’ll do away with you myself before I’ll allow you to bring a bastard into the world and disgrace us all before heaven and our neighbours!”

  This last exhortation was too much for Ted. The man was not only a Puritan, but a religious maniac! Ignoring him, he spoke to Rebecca.

  “You don’t have to go with him. You can come home with me. Mam will look after you.”

  Hope flickered in her eyes, then died. “ I can’t, Ted.”

  “You stay away from my daughter, do you hear?” Alfred bellowed at him. Then, to Rebecca: “As for you, my girl, get up that hill before I flay you alive—and your mother, too, for bringing you to this.”

  Twisting Rebecca in front of him, he began to march along the path.

  “Becky, don’t go with him!” Ted pleaded again. “He can’t make you! Don’t go with him!”

  She did not answer, and he saw that tears were streaming down her face.

  “Becky!” he cried.

  Alfred began to roar more threats, but Ted scarcely heard him. He could see only the fear in Rebecca’s eyes, and it was a terrible thing. The girl who had lain beside him in the long grass was gone now. In her place was a small, cowering animal.

  “Leave me, Ted,” she whispered through her tears. “ You’ll only make it worse.”

  Helplessly, he watched them go away, still not really understanding what had happened. The man was mad—but he was her father, and she came from a world where his word was law. And although he was afraid for her, it was true that there was nothing he could do without making things worse for her.

  They turned the corner into the hill, and when they were out of sight, Ted, angry, and sick at heart, made his own way home.

  ALTHOUGH panting with exertion, Alfred propelled Rebecca up the hill remorselessly. She could visualize the belt he had sworn to thrash her with, and deliberately, so as to be prepared, she let herself think about it. Would it be as bad as it had been when she was a little girl and he had given her three stripes for telling a lie? And would he make her undress to do it? Across the years, the memory of the pain had dulled, but the sha
me remained as sharp as ever.

  As they reached the top of the hill and the cottages came into sight, Rebecca’s heart thudded painfully. Why had she not gone with Ted? she asked herself. She could have done. If she had kicked her father and run away he could not have stopped her. Even now it was not too late. She could run back down the hill and find Ted. He would look after her, perhaps take her away somewhere where her father would never find them …

  But all the time she knew she would not do it. He was her father, and she must obey him. ‘Honour thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land that the Lord thy God givest thee.’ For six long months she had lied to him and deceived him, and now the time had come for her punishment. If she tried to escape that, heaven only knew what would happen, but one thing was certain. It would be her mother who would bear the brunt of his wrath, her poor cringing ill-used mother.

  Down the narrow lane to the cottage they went, but instead of taking the path to the front door, Alfred propelled the frightened girl around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance.

  There was no doubt as to his intentions now. The strap had not been an idle threat. Again she thought of running, but he kept hold of her arm as he unlatched the wash-house door and reached one-handed for the leather belt that hung there. Then he pushed her in front of him into the kitchen.

  “Alfred—what is going on? What are you doing?”

  Winnie Church, who had seen them coming up the lane, appeared suddenly in the doorway, her pinched face ugly with fear.

  “Your daughter is a sinner. She has been lying with a boy. She has been …”

  “I haven’t,” Rebecca cried. “Oh, Mother, I haven’t. We only went for a walk!”

  “And now she has to pay for her lust.”