An Innocent Affair

XVII

"It's just that I don't hope any more, I've lost my nerve." Iris Murdoch, The Green Knight

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XVII.

Cressie watched the street from her small bedroom window and felt a pang of pain in her chest as she saw Jem stalk away from the house, the bouquet of flowers still in his hands.

It was hard to name the emotions that began to flood through her as she watched him disappear around the corner. His shoulders had been slumped. His head had hung low. It was the walk of a dejected man. Tears flowed down her cheeks freely as whatever hope she had deluded herself into holding quickly fizzled out, like the last remnants of a fire.

She could infer quite easily as to what Jem had asked her mother, and she could thus imagine what Mrs Martin had told Jem in reply. It was 'no'. Would it have ever been 'yes'? Could it have ever been 'yes'? Cressie has been certain of it for a time. She had been certain that given enough time, her mother would understand that Jem was her choice. Mrs Martin's greatest desire for Cressie was for her to be married, and she was accepting a man with no resistance.

Only, Cressie sadly accepted, her mother's true wish was for Cressie to be married well.

A painful hiccough ripped itself from Cressie's throat as she let out an unholy sob. She pressed her forehead against the glass of the windowpane and gripped hold of the sill as her shoulders shook violently. She still could not name the feeling that was tearing through her body, but for what she had heard of it, it could only be considered heartbreak.

Cressie felt soothing hands on her back suddenly, before one gently lifted her face off of the glass to turn her. Cressie met the sympathetic grey-green eyes of her mother as she frowned with pity.

"Cressie dear," she said knowingly, before she brought her into a hug.

Cressie wrapped her arms around her mother for a lack of knowing what to do. She needed to hold onto something, someone, as she wept violently. The front of her mother's bodice became saturated almost instantly. Mrs Martin held Cressie comfortingly, rubbing her hands over her back as she had done when Cressie was small.

"Mama, please!" Cressie begged, her voice thick with emotion, and muffled as she spoke into the fabric of Mrs Martin's dress. "Please, change your mind, I beg you! I won't be happy with anyone but him. I love him!"

"Shh," hushed Mrs Martin calmly, continuing to rub Cressie's back. "Oh, my girl, my sweet, sweet girl," she cooed. "You are so naïve, darling child. You do not yet understand love, especially the fickleness of first love. What you are feeling is not love, and it will pass, I promise you."

Cressie pulled her head away and rubbed her eyes free of her tears so that she could look upon her mother clearly. She sniffed as she said, "I don't agree, Mama!" Cressie challenged. "I think you're wrong. Naïve, I may be, but this is not fickle. Don't you want me to be happy? I know you do! Please, Mama, please change your mind. You need to help me. You are meant to help me."

Mrs Martin sighed, shaking her head. "And this is your very naivety showing, my love! You do not see how I am helping you! You do not understand that every choice and decision I make is for you. Mr Denham is a lovely boy, a charming boy, I am sure. He is a credit to his lovely village mama, but he is nothing more, he will not ever be more than he is now, and that is not enough for you, Cressie!"

"But it is! He is!" Cressie cried.

Mrs Martin fished a handkerchief from her pocket and sat Cressie back down on the stool she had been occupying by the window. She proceeded to dry Cressie's eyes and wipe her nose for her as though she were an infant.