Chapter 18 Lilias
Lilias
Lilias and Ruth were in the kitchen, with the crackly wireless on.
Compass was outside in the garden, and David had just gone up to bed.
Since the bombing raids had started in earnest in London, Lilias didn’t like to have the wireless on too much while he was awake.
Although David was aware that London was being bombed, being aware of it and hearing about it constantly were two different things.
“You’re thinking about Harry, aren’t you?” Ruth asked, and Lilias sighed.
“Yes, of course. It’s impossible not to. I do so hope he and Nadine stay safe.”
Ruth came to sit on the arm of Lilias’s chair, swinging her trousered leg. Lilias hadn’t seen very much of her lately; she’d been spending a lot of time in Norwich, with her friend Gloria. Lilias had no idea how she was managing to feed herself, since Lilias had her ration book.
“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Ruth reassured her.
“Well, we can’t be certain of that, can we? We can only hope and pray. Which I do, of course.”
Lilias went to church every Sunday, even though it was a long time since she had truly believed it was a worthwhile occupation.
Before the war, Lilias had served on the parish council, attending meetings and drawing up rosters to arrange the church flowers.
But since David’s arrival she had given all that up and didn’t miss it in the least.
David came along to church these days now, whiling away the minutes by swinging his legs and gazing up at the vaulted ceiling, which was rumoured to be a home for bats.
Lilias suspected he was hoping one of the creatures would swoop down to disrupt the vicar’s inevitably dull sermon.
At times, she rather hoped this would happen herself.
“You have a soft spot for Harry, don’t you?” Ruth probed now, her tone deceptively gentle.
“Of course,” Lilias said again. “He’s a good man. And he’s David’s father. David adores him as much as we both adored Daddy.”
Ruth squeezed her shoulder. “Let me brush your hair. Take the pins out, will you?” She got up from the chair arm and went to rummage in her bag for her hairbrush, while Lilias took the pins from her hair as she’d been bidden, her mind filled with the sad memory of their father’s last illness; his brilliant mind dulled by morphine.
“It’s all right to care,” Ruth told her, moving the brush down the length of Lilias’s hair.
Lilias closed her eyes with a contented sigh. She enjoyed having her hair brushed, and it was a long time since Ruth had offered to do it.
“One’s feelings aren’t always convenient—they can have a mind of their own, don’t you think?” her sister continued. “But I say, to hell with it, and follow where they lead. What else is there to do, after all? Fighting them doesn’t work.”
“Ruth,” said Lilias, relaxed by the repetitive rhythm of the brush, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re getting at, you know.”
Her sister laughed. “Of course you do, darling. You’re a tiny bit in love with the gorgeous Harry, aren’t you? The sight of one of his letters on the doormat brings joy singing to your heart.”
Lilias’s eyes flicked open, realising just why Ruth had wanted to brush her hair—so she wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Well,” she said breezily. “Whether you’re right or wrong, it’s immaterial, isn’t it?
Since Harry is married to Nadine.” As she spoke, Lilias experienced a rush of sadness, aware that Ruth’s words had removed her innocent pleasure at receiving a letter from Harry.
From now on, her response to seeing a letter from him would be forever tinged with guilt and regret.
How ridiculous it hadn’t been so before now.
Heavens, what a silly, na?ve person she was.
Of course she was in love with Harry. Of course.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Ruth said. “I really don’t mean to upset you.
Goodness me, I certainly don’t have any right to act as judge or jury about unsuitable feelings.
It’s as I said: Our emotions aren’t always designed to be convenient.
They can be a law unto themselves.” Ruth’s voice wavered, and Lilias turned, frowning, to examine her sister’s face.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened? Have you finally opened Ralph’s letters?”
Ruth sighed, giving a dismissive shrug. “Oh, them. Yes, they’re all read and dealt with. He means to divorce me with the meanest settlement he can possibly get away with, but that’s perfectly all right by me. He knows I’m as disinclined to scandal as he is.”
“Scandal?” Lilias repeated, searching her sister’s face. “You mentioned that once before. Why should there be a scandal?”
“I hope there won’t be, but I can’t be certain.
” Ruth put down the hairbrush to light a cigarette, inhaling deeply and picking up the hand-painted pottery dish their father had always used to empty his old pipe tobacco into.
Flicking her cigarette ash into it, she looked up to meet Lilias’s gaze, making Lilias afraid of what she was about to learn.
“Lilias, my dear,” Ruth said, seeming to come to some sort of decision, “there’s something you need to know. Something I’ve wanted to tell you for a very long time. But I couldn’t, you see, not while I was trying to hide from it myself.”
Lilias’s arms came out in goose bumps. Ruth was never this serious. “For goodness’ sake, Ruth, whatever is it?”
“Well, it’s Gloria, actually,” Ruth said, fiddling with the woollen fabric of her trousers.
“I care for her very much. Lily, we . . . oh, it isn’t easy to say this, but Gloria and I .
. . Well, we aren’t just friends. We . .
. we’re a couple.” Her head came up, her expression slightly defiant, and she continued speaking before Lilias could interrupt.
“And before Gloria, well, let’s just say I’ve had feelings for other women.
I’ve been that way for as long as I’ve thought about that kind of thing.
Attraction, I mean, and love. I wanted to be able to control it, Lily, I really did.
I hoped if I married Ralph and was set up in a nice home with lots of babies, it would be all right.
That I’d be content with my lot and my .
. . urges would go away.” She smiled ruefully.
“It turns out I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Marrying Ralph was the biggest mistake of my life. ”
Lilias let her breath out on a long sigh.
“Oh, Ruthie,” she said, feeling desperately sad; not for the reality of what she had just learnt, because her sister’s words made sudden sense to her, almost as if, subconsciously, she’d known the truth for some time, but that her sister, for whom she felt such a profound love, had kept such a vast fact a secret for so long.
“The past year has been a living hell,” Ruth said, her eyes bright with tears. “I’ve been perfectly beastly to poor Ralph. He didn’t deserve it; none of this is his fault.”
Lilias thought of the one night she had spent with Geoffrey before he’d gone away to war.
With their wedding date set, making love with him had felt so right, so loving, and it had been wonderful to be able to express such deep feelings physically.
To stroke, to touch, to give pleasure. She’d been a virgin, but any pain she’d experienced hadn’t mattered one jot.
How very different it must have been for Ruth with Ralph, feeling the way she did.
“I do wish you’d felt able to confide in me earlier, darling,” she said at last, with another heavy sigh. “It’s dreadful to think of your going through all this on your own.”
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Ruth squeezed her hand.
“It’s as I said, I was trying my level best to change myself.
I wanted to make things work out with Ralph; I really did.
I know you’ve never liked him, but he believes in living life, and so do I.
We’re not dissimilar in that way. But then I met Gloria, and I loved her so very much, and so very quickly I knew it was time to face facts.
I’m in love with her, Lily. You . . . you don’t mind, do you? ”
Lilias sighed and got up from her chair to take her sister in her arms. “Of course not. So long as this Gloria returns your feelings?”
Ruth pulled back to smile at her, her face flushed with pleasure at her sister’s acceptance. “Oh, yes, she really does.”
“Then I’m so very happy for you.”
Ruth’s smile grew still more. “Thank you, Lily.”
“Just make sure you promise you won’t keep anything like this from me again.”
Ruth laughed. “I’m not sure there will be anything in this league to share with you again, darling, but yes, I do promise.
If you’ll make the same promise to me.” She stubbed her cigarette out and bent forward to kiss Lilias’s cheek.
“Now, I’m off to bed. All this emotion has quite wiped me out. Night night. And thank you.”
“Good night, Ruthie. Sleep tight.”
Ruth looked back at her from the door. “D’you know, I rather think I shall?”
After her sister had gone, Lilias sat back down in the armchair to wait for Compass to scratch to be let in, her mind in a complete whirl.
But as the wind blew from the salt marsh and the candle guttered in the draught coming in beneath the door, it was not Ruth’s confession or the unknown Gloria she thought of, but Harry, his face crinkling as he smiled at her, calling himself Saint Francis of Hackney.
The haunted sadness in his eyes as he spoke of his experiences in the Great War.
Of course she was in love with him.
What a chump she was to have needed Ruth to point it out to her. And how miserable the knowledge made her feel now. Ruth may have spoken out of kindness, but it would have been a good deal better to have remained ignorant.
Goodness, what a pair she and Ruth were.
She, in love with a married man, and Ruth with a woman.
A lesbian. There, she had said the word to herself.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t met plenty of lesbians before; with her parents so heavily involved in the arts scene, she had encountered all manner of people who were unafraid to express their true natures.
But Ruthie . . . She was so utterly feminine, with her love of furs, jewellery, and high heels.
Lilias supposed she must have got the whole idea of what a lesbian was like wrong.
And yet, when the country was fighting for its very survival, what did either of their dilemmas matter, in the scheme of things?
At long last, Lilias heard Compass’s summons on the outside of the door, and she got up, feeling as if she had aged several years in the past ten minutes. “Come along, then,” she said to the dog. “Settle down. It’s time for bed.”
Though, tired as she was, Lilias didn’t expect to be able to go to sleep.
She never had slept well when she had things on her mind, and this evening she had a great deal on her mind.
Normally, when insomnia struck, she came back downstairs to do a bit of painting, but the war had brought shortages of paper and canvas along with a thousand and one other things, so that was out of the question.
At this rate, she’d have to start painting pictures on the walls.