Kitty Little (5 page)

Kitty rather suspected he had no wish to recover too quickly for wouldn’t he then lose this delicious attention he so clearly enjoyed?

Sometimes he would suffer one of his nightmares and Kitty would hurry to his bedside to cool his brow and soothe him. On better days he would allow her to coax him out of bed and they’d toast crumpets on long toasting forks held over the tiny bedroom fire and talk long into the night, their memories of Raymond featuring strongly in these conversations.

Today, Archie was in one of his more malleable moods and had agreed to sit at the small table in the window, obediently eating some of the fish pie Kitty had made especially for him. He much preferred the meals she prepared to the ones provided for the guests in the gloomy dining room. While he ate, he watched the swing of her bare arms, the sway of her slender body as she busied herself changing his sweat soaked sheets. Archie could sense she was about to bully him into some action or other. He’d already let her cut his hair, despite his protests that he enjoyed having Byronesque qualities, and was prepared to indulge her on other matters, though not perhaps without some show of protest.

But first, he meant to have his say. ‘You aren’t really going to marry the bounder, are you Kitty-Cat?’

‘We’re engaged, aren’t we?’ she snapped. ‘Anyway, Frank isn’t a bounder. He’s far too dull to... No, I didn’t mean that.’ She thumped the pillows, keenly aware of his grin of triumph.

‘Yes you did.’

Reaching for the clean sheets Kitty began to unfold them in quick, jerky movements. ‘Oh, for heavens sake, just because he likes to enjoy life instead of going round with a long face like someone whose name I won’t mention.’

‘You mean he knows how to “give a girl a good time.” Hurrah for Frank. Never thought you’d be influenced by such transitory delights.’

‘It’s called courting. We’re walking out, as they say. He’s a sweetie, and gloriously attentive.’

Archie glowered at her, then coolly remarked, ‘As any man would be when he goes fishing for a woman.’

‘Don’t be vulgar.’

‘He isn’t right for you, dear heart.’

Kitty pouted, largely because she suspected he may be right. She finished tucking in the blankets, smoothed out the cotton cover and turned it down in a neat fold. ‘I really don’t see that it’s any of your business. ’
 

As she tucked a blanket over his knees against the chill from the window, the sight of the thin sticks of his wrists poking out from the sleeves of his old dressing gown filled her with a sudden rush of emotion that threatened to reduce her to tears. He looked so desperately ill, his once beautiful lean cheeks now sunken and hollowed that she felt a rush of fear. Leaning forward she kissed him, very gently upon his brow. The thought flew into her head that she might like to kiss him on the mouth, but instantly quashed it. This was
Archie
after all. He smelt of camphor and the dreadful cigarettes he insisted on rolling for himself, and was the nearest thing she now had to a brother. ‘Frank’s very kind to me,’ she said, firmly reasserting her point as she moved away.

‘Of course. Darling Frank.’ Long after the door had slammed behind her, Archie’s eyes remained riveted upon it.

Archie surprised everyone the next afternoon by declaring he’d written another letter and wished to post it himself.

‘Goodness, two in a month? You’re becoming quite a scribe. I’ll go with you,’ Kitty offered.

‘I’m not totally decrepit.’

‘So you won’t need an invalid chair then?’

The sky was slate grey as, slipping her arm into his, she fell into step beside him. ‘Where shall we walk to? Down to the Common? Or to the library and change your book? Oh no, we haven’t got it with us. I know, we could take a bus into town, go to Waterloo, Victoria or Paddington and get on the first train that comes in.’

‘What if it’s going to the north of Scotland? That would be even wetter and colder.’

‘But there’d be no London smog and grit, only clean, fresh air and the scent of heather. No nagging mother telling me what to do, what to think and even what to wear. Best of all, no miserable guests eating kippers for breakfast.’

And no Frank, a small voice at the back of her mind quietly added.

‘I thought they were rather fond of kippers in Scotland.’

‘Herrings, isn’t it?’

‘Or mackerel?’

‘Oh shut up. We wouldn’t know a soul. We could be anyone we wished. People of Mystery,’ she said, warming to her theme. ‘I shall become a famous actress who everyone flocks to see night after night.’

‘You’ll keep half a dozen Pekinese dogs, wear Turkish trousers and never go to bed before dawn.’

‘And you must write plays by the score for me to act in. Then you can travel the world with me as my manager.’ An edge of passion had crept into her voice.
 

‘You’d best find some other companion to share that fantasy, dearest. You know how I dislike any sort of exertion. My chassis isn’t what it was, and my crank shaft is on the blink.’

‘Ever the defeatist.’ Kitty laughed, hugging his arm closer as her mind enlarged upon the fantasy. ‘You could take up painting then. We’d be thoroughly Bohemian and do exactly as we pleased. How would that be?’

‘Can’t paint for toffee darling. Besides, aren’t you engaged to be married to darling Frank?’

‘Being engaged is one thing, getting married is quite another.’ The buoyancy in her tone suddenly vanished. ‘The truth is, I don’t know anything about marriage, do you? Clara never set me any example of it.’ She shuddered at the memory of sounds in the night from the room next to hers. Her mother had good reason for favouring gentlemen guests. ‘Is it difficult, do you think, living with someone for an entire life time?’

Archie considered the matter for barely a second. ‘Sounds fearfully risky to me.’

‘Perhaps I won’t marry at all.’

‘Steady the buffs. You must marry someone gloriously rich who’ll devote his entire life to you, and give you a brood of children to make you happy.’

Kitty giggled. Archie, with his wild mood swings could one moment infuriate, the next totally captivate her. ‘I’m not sure the two don’t cancel each other out. Do children make one happy? I can’t honestly see myself as a broody hen, can you?’

‘Now who’s being defeatist? Your dear mama expects you to marry, and marry well. It would signify her own escape from this godforsaken hellhole. All I’m saying is for pity’s sake don’t let it be to that pubescent half-wit.’

‘Perhaps I should marry you, no one would dare class you as such.’

‘That’s because few people possess half my wit.’

‘Or I appreciate it more than most. We’d make a good team, you and I, without all that romantic stuff and nonsense to get in the way.’

‘Would it?’

‘What?’

‘Get in the way?’ His gaze held hers for so long that for the first time, Kitty felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

‘You know what I mean. We’re good chums, you and I.’

 
Archie stuffed his hands in his pockets and increased his pace so she had to run a little to catch up. ‘I doubt marriage would suit my selfish nature, old thing, for all women fall at my feet in adoration. All that emotional angst and responsibility for another person’s happiness. Where does it get you in the end?’

‘That’s a somewhat philistine, egotistical outlook.’

‘Mayhap it is dearie but even so-called happy marriages frequently end in disaster.’ His tone had grown oddly solemn and Kitty fell silent. The next instant he was grinning at her, as irreverent as ever. ‘But if this is a serious proposal I feel I should wear my new cravat, and perhaps my best smoking jacket while you make it.’

Kitty burst out laughing. ‘I shall certain give it serious consideration, if I should change my mind about Frank.’

‘However, I would make a poor bet as a husband. Wouldn’t wish myself on any woman.’

‘Ah, but I’m not any woman.’

‘I never suggested otherwise.’

‘Well then.’

‘You should write the script of our conversations before we start, then I would know just what to say.’

‘How could I hope to better your wit?’

‘True darling. I am rather remarkable,’ making them both double up with laughter until Archie’s dissolved into a troubling cough that took some time to ease. It was a device, he’d found, which often served to end awkward conversations.

A steady rain had started so they quickly posted the letter, then tucked beneath the big black umbrella and made a dash for home.

As they shook out their coats in the hall, dripping pools of water all over the cracked linoleum, Kitty thought that despite his prickly nature and debilitating illness dear Archie was still beautiful. The perfect shape of his head, bearing the arrogance of a Roman god, the raven curls that fell joyously on to a wide brow, and the deep blue eyes dancing with mischief made him seem, outwardly at least, quite his old self. Perhaps it wasn’t such a crazy idea to marry him. Wasn’t friendship an excellent basis for marriage?

‘Better hang on to your best smoking jacket, just in case I really do propose one day.’

‘You’re mad, Kitty-Cat. Absolutely stark raving crackers.’

She grinned. ‘I know. Isn’t it wonderful.’

Clara continued to berate them as if they were recalcitrant school children while she rubbed Archie’s head with a piece of old kitchen towel. Kitty watched with a kind of fascinated horror, thinking it probably still harboured fish scales left there by Myrtle’s hands.

While they drank hot cocoa and nibbled ginger biscuits, dipping them into the frothing liquid, they carefully avoided each other’s eyes so they could bear the brunt of Clara’s stern lecture without collapsing into fresh giggles.

‘It’ll be a wonder if you don’t go down with pneumonia again. Then how will you feel, girl, if he up and flipping snuffs it?’ Clara poked a long red finger nail into Kitty’s shoulder and suddenly it didn’t seem fun any more. Archie wasn’t fit enough for an afternoon walk in the rain, let alone madcap adventures in Scotland.

‘I’m sorry, I should never have bullied you into going out. It really was a stupid thing to do.’ Was his face slightly flushed? Did he have a temperature? she worried.

‘Nonsense old thing. Never felt better. Did me a power of good.’

 
Clara folded her arms and glowered down at the pair of them, all scarlet lips and quivering bosom. Kitty thought she’d never looked more vivid, more alive, more beautiful. While she herself felt, and probably looked, like a drowned rat. Did other girls envy their own mother’s beauty, even when it was slightly tarnished, as Clara’s was?

‘I hope you don’t imagine you’ll be able to boss Frank about in this way, madam, once you’re married next month.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Kitty stared at her mother, transfixed.

Archie scraped his chair back from the table. ‘Think I’ll go to my room, if you don’t mind. I feel a sudden need for a lie down.’

Kitty wanted to urge him not to leave her but he’d gone, gently closing the door like a reproof. Clara was collecting mugs and dropping them in the sink for Myrtle to attend to later. When she returned to her place at the table, wiping her long smooth hands on the very same kitchen towel, she bestowed upon her daughter a huge wink. It gave her face an almost clownish look. ‘He means to speak wiv you this evening, Duchess, to fix it all up. See you don’t go into one of yer moods. It’s important you gives him the right answer. And you know what that must be, don’t you?’

A wave of sickness hit her. ‘It’s too soon. I’m only twenty-one Ma. There are months - years even before I need think about marriage and - and everything.’
 

‘If you mean sex there’s nothing to it. It’s like riding a bike. Once you’ve got yer balance as it were, its gets easier. And yer not operating the handlebars after all,’ Clara laughed, rather coarsely, as if she’d said something witty or meaningful.

Confronting the unspeakable reality of married life with Frank was not something Kitty cared to consider too closely. So far they’d exchanged nothing more than a few clumsy kisses, always instigated by him, and usually resulting in bumped noses. Then he would apologise for rushing her while in her heart Kitty knew he was showing admirable patience. This reaction didn’t bode well for a happy marriage. Would she be any good at
It
? Was there something wrong with her that she hated to even think of sex? She took a breath. ‘Look, perhaps this is all a terrible mistake. I’m not sure I even love him.’

‘Leave it out. What’s love got to do with anyfink, for God’s sake?’

Clara got up to reach into the top cupboard. Collecting a bottle of gin and rubbing a glass perfunctorily against her grubby skirt to clean it, she brought both to the table and proceeded to fill the latter to within an inch of the top. Kitty watched in silence, knowing that it said a good deal about where much of the money went in this house. Whatever rules she applied to her paying guests over the consumption of alcohol on the premises, did not apply to Clara Terry. She took a long draft, closing her eyes in ecstasy. ‘Wurf a fiver a glass that is. Nah, that sort of romantic rubbish don’t last, even if you has it at the start. Better to let fings grow slowly. Get used to each other natural like.