Chapter Five #2
‘No, they’re from Weston’s in the village. She does bake her own muffins, though.’ Nina turned back to Clemmie. ‘Do you think having Labour MPs will do anything for the Cause?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Clemmie said. ‘A lot of working-class men resent women for taking jobs away from men. Some of them think women oughtn’t to work outside the home at all.
But in many families, if the woman doesn’t work, there simply isn’t enough money.
And it’s thought that having the vote would lead to higher wages for women, which in turn would push up the men’s.
So there’s no knowing which way the Labour MPs will lean. ’
‘Which is exactly what Aubrey said,’ Bobby concluded triumphantly.
‘I can never quite make out from what you say whether your husband is for votes for women or against,’ Nina said, amused.
‘Oh, like most men, he wouldn’t mind me having the vote, as long as he doesn’t have to stir himself about it,’ said Bobby.
Clemmie smiled too. ‘The thing is to build up a sufficient swell of opinion so that it’s easier for them to go along with it than resist it.’
‘And how do you do that?’ Nina asked.
‘That’s the question,’ Clemmie said. ‘The whole nub and nexus of the problem.’
‘What’s a nexus?’ Rupert asked, from the corner where he and Lizzie were sharing their own tea-tray.
Bobby looked across and frowned. ‘You’re not supposed to be listening.’
‘But, Mummy, you didn’t say pas devant les enfants,’ he objected indignantly, and Bobby’s stern expression melted into laughter.
Nina thought that for all her talk of being ‘cross and cruel’, in reality she was quite indulgent with her children.
When they had gone, Nina felt in need of fresh air and, since it wasn’t actually raining, she put on a coat and hat and went out for a walk, forbidding Alfred to accompany her.
The air smelt fresh and damp, of grass and nettles and running water in ditches.
Already the robin had changed from his winter to his spring song, and a great tit was calling ‘me too, me too’ from a bare tree.
She missed her little dog Trump running about her, and felt a renewed pang.
Mr Cowling had wanted to buy her another dog, but she was afraid to risk it again. To love left you open to loss.
It made her wonder suddenly how much she would love the baby when it came.
Did the love come automatically, like breathing?
For the moment the baby was just a theory: she knew it existed somewhere, but it didn’t seem real to her.
She wanted to be a good mother, but was afraid she would fall short.
What if, when the time came, you simply didn’t feel what you were supposed to?
She knew it was possible – consider Giles’s mother.
She didn’t seem to care for any of her children.
But it was a mistake to think about Giles.
She had spent the past five months training herself not to.
Even thinking about Kitty now came with a sting.
She had wronged Kitty, and the fact that she could not wish the deed undone only increased her guilt.
She had taken that one night with Giles in full awareness, and must now live with the consequences.
Answering Kitty’s letter of delighted congratulation had required great concentration and several drafts to complete, such that she half hoped she would never have to meet her face to face.
Was that to be another consequence? She remembered how, when they had left school, Kitty had mourned that they would probably never meet again: Kitty then was to make a high marriage and Nina was to be a lowly school-teacher.
Things had not turned out as expected. Perhaps they never did.
Women were always dependent on men, and men’s actions complicated women’s lives.
At school, there had been no shadows between her and Kitty; but school was not real life…
At this point she realised that the sky had been growing steadily darker, and now cold, sharp raindrops began to fall.
She didn’t mind walking in the rain, but if she got home soaked Mrs Deering would feel obliged to tell Mr Cowling when he came home the next day and there would be scoldings.
So she turned for home. The rain grew heavier, and she hurried under a big oak tree to wait it out, though the tree was bare and the shelter inadequate.
She was staring hard at the sky to the north-west where the weather was coming from, hoping to see a break, when an umbrella materialised over her head, and she turned with a start to find Decius Blake holding it.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that you were out in the rain,’ he said. ‘But you really shouldn’t put me in the position of dividing my loyalties.’
‘If it worries you, I’ll tell him myself,’ Nina said, with the courage of her husband’s absence. ‘And,’ she added in her own defence, ‘it wasn’t raining when I set out.’
‘Well, I have you covered now, so shall we walk on?’ said Decius.
She took his offered arm companionably. She always felt at ease with Decius.
She imagined it was how she would have felt if she’d ever had a brother – oh, blessed state!
She hoped people like Bobby knew how lucky they were to have siblings.
Decius, too – one of a large family. Perhaps that was why he was such easy company: he had learned to love widely and easily, where love for her had been narrow and perilous.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘I’ve just arrived on the train,’ he said. ‘I was walking up to the house to pay my respects.’
‘Or to check on me?’ she suggested.
‘Oh, a little of one, a little of the other. Mr Cowling will be here tomorrow, but there’s a meeting then at the factory and he wanted me to look at some figures beforehand. You know how he likes to be prepared.’
‘I do. You once told me it’s the secret of his success.’
‘One of them,’ Decius allowed.
‘Well, I shall be glad of your company this evening. I haven’t any guests coming to dinner.’
‘Do you have—?’ he began, but she was never to know how that sentence was to end.
She stopped dead, and her hands went instinctively to the roundness under her coat that she was only just getting used to.
Decius looked at her with concern. ‘What is it?’ She didn’t answer.
‘Are you in pain?’ he asked, anxiety making his voice shake.
She shook her head, staring at nothing. ‘I feel…very peculiar,’ she said.
‘We must get you home quickly. Can you walk all right, or shall I run ahead and get help?’
‘I can walk. But I feel…I can’t describe it. Something’s different.’
‘Lean on me, let me take your weight. Thank goodness it isn’t far.’
They walked in silence for a few steps, then Nina said in a small voice, ‘Decius, I’m a little bit afraid.’
He answered in a steady voice, ‘We’ll soon have you home, and Mrs Deering will be there. She’ll know what to do.You’re sure you’re not in pain?’
‘No pain,’ she said.
‘That’s a good sign,’ he said.
Decius spoke confidently, but she could almost read his thoughts: this was women’s business. He could not be expected to have the answers. And for a man whose entire career depended on finding answers, it was not a happy state to be in.
He wanted to reassure her but she wasn’t reassured. Something was wrong. And ignorance was an anguish in itself.
Mr Cowling arrived with a commotion in the hall.
Nina felt the weight of his presence and his agitation: it was as if the house creaked under it.
She was having a late breakfast: she’d been told not to get up until midday, but couldn’t remain in bed that long.
He had been supposed to go straight to the factory from the station, but evidently he had come home instead.
She heard his upraised voice ‘And when were you going to tell me?’ and the murmur of Mrs Deering’s respectful – possibly nervous – reply.
In mercy to both parties she abandoned her eggs and bacon and went to intervene.
He reached her in a couple of strides to envelop her in an embrace that was almost uncomfortable. ‘Are you all right? Should you be out of bed? When is the doctor coming again?’
She managed to detach herself and said, ‘How did you know he’d called?’
‘Because Snowdon was getting on the train I got off, and said he’d seen Nicholson’s carriage turning into our gates yesterday evening. And I was forced to say it was all news to me!’
She could see that he was angry at being kept in the dark, but also that the anger was mostly fear. She said soothingly, ‘I’m perfectly all right, so stop worrying. Come, sit with me and I’ll tell you everything. It’s all right, Mrs Deering, you can go.’
The housekeeper, who was looking shaken at this brush with danger, said, ‘Shall I bring fresh coffee for the master, madam?’
‘Coffee be damned!’ Cowling growled.
‘I’ll ring if anything’s wanted,’ Nina said, and hustled him away before necks could be wrung.
When they were alone with the door shut, she waited while he let off steam.
‘How do you think I felt, coming home thinking all was well, to have a neighbour tell me my wife had been taken ill? What do I keep a pack of servants for? And Decius – by God, he was here yesterday and never a word did he send me! He’ll hear about this, I promise you!
That young man will be lucky to keep his job, after the trust I’ve put in him! ’
‘You mustn’t blame Decius,’ Nina said, trying to get him to sit down. ‘I made him promise not to telegraph you, which is what he wanted to do.’
‘Oh, he takes his orders from you, now, does he?’
‘In this case, yes, because I wanted to be able to tell you myself. Please sit down, Joseph. It’s good news, and you’re spoiling it.’
He sat at last – it was rather more of a collapse – and stared at her with confusion. ‘Good news? But the doctor was here.’
‘Decius sent for him for reassurance – mostly his own. I was content with Mrs Deering’s explanation, but he was afraid you’d skin and eat him if he didn’t take precautions.’