Sweet Satisfaction (Purple UGC Winner 2014)

Sweet Satisfaction - Sixty-Seven

Sixty-Seven

November, 1915

“This is useless,” I cried, throwing down the latest issue of The Spectator, “What does it matter to me if the German army are advancing south, or that the Serbians have re-taken Veles (Kuprulu) from the Bulgarians? The Zeppelins might bomb us today, tomorrow, next week…”

“You are still scared of them, even now?” Emma looked up, but there was no scorn in her tired-looking face, but surprise, almost pity. I remembered she had been there too that night, the night of the bombing, the night that still replayed in my head over and over and over and over and- I shook myself, trembling.

It was just the two of us in the front room, huddled by the fire. Mary was upstairs with Mother, getting a scolding for forging the letter naming her as Father’s heir. There was such joy in my heart- I was Elsie the Kingston Heiress, not a bastard, a product of incest, and King was nothing but my grand-uncle. Even though he was King and we were Kingstons… How could Mary have done that, the vindictive little witch?

Emma titled her head slightly, shifting towards me.

“What happened to the Elsie who didn’t care, who was stronger?”

“She got lost,” I whispered, trying to smile, but instead I let out a sob. Emma threw her skinny arms around me at once.

“I have tried to forget, not to worry, that my Father might be dead, my husband hasn’t sent word, that Susanna and Bobby betrayed me, that I killed Ludmilla, Natalya is looking for me, my Mother is pregnant, there is a war happening, the Zeppelins swoop in and out of my dreams, and my brother Benjamin… my brother Benjamin…” I stopped, trying to regain my breath as sobs wracked my body. Why was my life so complicated? Emma took my hand and smiled at me, a sad little smile full of a bud of hope.

“Oh Emma, I’m so sorry for what I said in King’s Lynn. If anything, this war has taught me, from the lists of soldiers in the newspapers every day who have died or become injured, is that life is so precious, and we should not waste it with stupid fights.” I wholly forgave her for slapping me and behaving spitefully. We had been stupid children then. Maybe she wasn’t so bad. She looked at me with strained eyes.

“Honestly, Elsie, I can’t remember what you even said.” She gave a short laugh, standing up abruptly, and walking over to the window, which she opened. The cold air was a sharp shock, but somehow, it was peaceful, gentle, washing my troubles away. I padded over and stood by Emma as she hugged herself, hair hiding her face. She suddenly seemed so fragile.

*****

Mother, Mary, Emma and I were having a little breakfast in bed the next day, as Mother’s stomach was so enormous, when Sandy delivered the post. Mother let out a gasp, clapping her hand to her mouth, taking in breaths of air so quickly I thought she was going into labour.

“The seal… it’s…Lord Asquith’s… the Prime Minister!”

I blinked. And blinked again and again until I was dizzy and crying with laughter. Mary had grabbed Emma, who was stumbling, wide-eyed, as they danced and the former squealed, breathless. We hated our Father for his violent acts, but that news-that news- he was alive and well, and he was to be knighted!

*****

Soon, we were pulling on our thick stockings, mittens, woollen shawls and packing our suitcases, for we were to go home straight away. We stood at the doorway, cheeks flushed, as Grandfather bade us goodbye. A little stiffly, I noticed.

“Oh, Father, he is to be knighted!” Mother cried.

“Yes, yes, you’ve told be twenty dozen times.” We all blinked at his sudden coldness.

“Why should someone who killed my sister and brother-in-law be rewarded?”

“Father-” Mother tried to reason.

“No, Isabella. If I hadn’t sent that letter to you, you would not have come back here and you would not have pushed your own mother to her death. If you hadn’t married him in the first instance, Natalya would not have stabbed my wife. You just finished off what she started, what your husband started. If you hadn’t had affections for King, and more affection for your sister, Emmelina wouldn’t be dead. Your own daughter didn’t know that her mother was a murderer! And this past week, I watched you and King become lovers once more, unfaithful to your murdering, scheming husband.”

I swallowed. Mother staggered a little, clutching her belly. Mary was staring at her, learning for the first time that both her parents had blood staining their hands. My grandfather sounded as spiteful as I did when I was cursing my father, but his soliloquy revealed bitterness deep from the heart. He had just been putting on a pretence; did he even like Mary and me?

Heavy footsteps sounded on the floorboards. King walked forward and drew Mother gently to him. She tilted her head back, letting him kiss her softly, eyes closed, lingering. They needed no words; they knew this was goodbye. We all watched, their forbidden love declared freely. Mother stepped back, hand on her stomach. I felt like I didn’t even know her, my murdering, lying, whoring, pregnant Mother with tears streaming down her face.

“Go and find your wife and son,” she whispered, with bitter regret, turning away, and climbing into the cart.

“Goodbye, Father,” she croaked, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

The cart jerked and started to roll along. We watched as the Englewood House became a speck in the distance and listened to Mother’s heartbroken sobs.