Josephine Cox - Live the Dream

Georgina knew how every word Luke uttered was right, but she still had her say. ‘Except for Tuesdays.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, except for Tuesdays, but then Edna has to have at least one day off and she visits her aged mother. They go to the old lady’s whist club. But then you kindly offered to stay with her on that one day, and the arrangement seems to have worked out really well. Like you say, Sylvia always seems content in your company.’

Eaten with jealousy, Georgina persisted. ‘If you ask me, Edna is far too familiar. It never pays to let the servants know too much.’

‘Why don’t you let me worry about that?’ Finishing the conversation, he turned away with the parting words, ‘Besides, you know we never think of Edna as a “servant”.’

‘Then you should … because that’s exactly what she is. A housekeeper pretending to be a nurse again!’

‘To be honest, the fact that you sent her away is neither here nor there, because if I know Edna, the minute she realises I’m home, she’ll be back again … if only to make certain Sylvia is all right.’ He smiled knowingly. ‘In fact, I suspect our Edna has nothing but dislike for you.’

‘Hmm!’ Georgina narrowed her eyes and spat, ‘The feeling is mutual, because I can’t stand the sight of the damned woman!’

Treating her remark with the contempt it deserved, Luke made no reply. Instead, he went out of the room and on up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs he turned left towards his wife’s room. He knew from experience that it was best to leave her sleeping, but he had a deep-down need to check on her. He had to be certain she was all right.

Lingering outside her door, he listened. There was no sound. There never was. Gingerly he turned the handle, opened the door and, ever so softly, let himself inside.

Standing by her bed, he studied her sleeping face. Sylvia never liked complete darkness, and in the kindly haze of light from the standard lamp, her quiet, pale features took on a ghostly aspect. With her soft skin and long, tousled chestnut hair, she seemed almost like a child lying there. He stayed a moment longer, thinking how beautiful she was, and how fortunate he had been.

Raising the blanket to cover her arms, he tenderly stroked the strands of rich-coloured hair from about her face. When she was sleeping like this, everything seemed so perfect. Yet he knew it was not .

Beside the bed, her supper plate lay untouched: two small, plain biscuits, and a dainty wedge of cheese with the knife lying beside it; all exactly as it was when brought up by Edna. Untouched, unwanted.

The empty tumbler was on its side, half drunk, half spilled. As he carefully uprighted it, the dregs ran down his wrist. He wiped it away, but the stale milk remained, sticky and uncomfortable. It occurred to him it might well contain something medicinal, but it was spilled now, and anyway, she was sound asleep.

‘Good night, my love.’ Leaning over, he whispered assurances with the softest of kisses before, collecting the supper plate, he left the room as softly as he had arrived.

Once outside on the landing, he made his way to the bathroom; a large converted bedroom with high ceilings and stripped wooden floor, it always struck him as strangely cold and bleak.

Setting the supper plate on the cupboard, he went to the basin where he splashed a handful of cold water over his wrist, then another over his face. After hours of talking business he was wearied. The shock of cold water felt refreshingly good.

When, eyes half closed, he turned to find the towel, she was suddenly on him like a fiend.

‘YOU’VE BEEN WITH HER !’ Shrieking like a demented soul she grabbed the cheese knife; lashing out, wanting to hurt him, needing to maim him, just as she felt maimed. ‘You don’t want me any more. I’m no good to you … don’t lie to me!’ With one swipe of the knife she caught him down the cheekbone. When the blood spurted out she lunged at him again, but this time he caught her arm to fend her off.

‘Sylvia! Drop the knife! Sylvia, please!’

‘Let me go, you bastard … I HATE YOU!’ There was no stopping her now. Raising her arm she brought it down, the small curved blade targeting his face. He ducked, grabbed her by the waist and, drawing her towards him, pinned her arms by her sides. ‘It’s all right, Sylvia,’ he gasped, ‘… it’s all right. There is no one else in my life but you.’ He struggled to regain his breath, to ignore the blood he could feel oozing down his face.

Her dark eyes calmer now, she looked up. ‘Promise me?’

He nodded, his forced smile seeming to settle her fears. ‘I promise.’

When she began sobbing, he gently took away the knife and, at that moment, something made him glance towards the door. Shocked to see Georgina leaning against the door-jamb, he asked harshly, ‘How long have you been there?’

Smiling triumphantly, she replied, ‘Long enough.’ In fact she had witnessed the whole thing.

‘Did you wake her?’ Suspicion trembled in his voice.

‘Shame on you, Luke.’ Her small, mean mouth opened in disbelief. ‘Do you really believe I would do such a thing?’

His voice hardened. ‘I know you would … if it suited your purpose.’

Just then, a plump woman of homely face and grey hair appeared.

‘Is Mrs Hammond all right, sir?’ She was obviously distressed.

Relieved to see her, Luke reassured her. ‘Yes, Edna, she’s all right.’

Clinging to him, Sylvia looked up at her husband. ‘I’m tired,’ she said wearily. ‘Can I go back to my bed now?’

Kissing her tenderly on the forehead, Luke nodded. ‘Come on … I’ll take you back.’

As he moved forward, she saw the blood trickling from his cheekbone. A look of astonishment came over her features. ‘Your face is cut!’ Horrified, she reeled from him. ‘I want Edna.’ Her voice rising to a shriek, she demanded, ‘Edna! I need you to take me back. Please, Edna …’

Like a frightened child she entreated the older woman, and the older woman loved her as she would her own flesh and blood. ‘You must calm yourself, my dear,’ she said soothingly. ‘O’ course I’ll take you back.’ She shifted an inquisitive gaze to Luke. ‘If it’s all right with Mr Hammond, that is?’

Luke gave the nod she needed, and now, as Sylvia went to her with open arms, Edna quickly but gently led Sylvia back to the safety of her bed.

Reaching out for the towel, Luke dipped a corner into the wash-bowl and dabbed at the blood trickling from his wounds, but all the while his wary eyes were fixed on Georgina. ‘If I thought you’d woken her,’ he warned, shaking his head, ‘I would have to think twice about banning you from this house.’

‘You couldn’t do that! I’m her sister.’

‘And I’m her husband – so I could, and I would. My only concern is for Sylvia.’ His voice thickened. ‘My God! If I knew you’d deliberately upset her …’

Afraid now, she stepped forward. ‘I didn’t . I love her!’ There was a measure of sincerity in her voice. ‘I would never hurt her … you must know that.’

Using what she considered to be her best card, she taunted, ‘If you thought me capable of hurting her, you would never trust me to stay with her on a Tuesday.’

Taken aback, Luke spoke firmly. ‘And you think it would bother me if I didn’t have my Tuesday freedom, do you?’

‘I know how much you treasure your Tuesdays, that’s all,’ she retaliated. ‘Or am I wrong?’

‘No, you’re not wrong.’ Once more wiping the towel over the wound on his cheekbone, he reminded her, ‘However much I treasure my little freedom, Sylvia will always be my first concern.’