A Man Called Darius Read online

  I picked up the glass and ignored the mishap. The carpet was very old anyway and I had intended to redecorate Rowan Trees, if and when I could get a job and could be more self-sufficient and independent of my spouse. We laughed together.

  “I’ve always been a randy bugger, I suppose,” he said, “I’ve been blessed with nice healthy erections all my life Frannie... Did you know that?” he asked with a perky grin on his smooth face that made me chuckle and I choked on my drink. I took the poker and sifted the ashes that had fallen into the grate before I put another log on the fire and watched it spit into flame.

  “I had a very special one when I was ten, you know. I knew a chap at school and I was rather fond of him. He was a few years older than me; a hirsute creature with a wonderful body. Must have been about fourteen then I guess … I used to watch him in the showers and he could drive me up the wall at the sight of him... just washing himself.”

  “Are you serious Jeremy,” I asked in profound curiosity, “ I mean, you’re not having me on, are you?”

  He swallowed and took a deep breath before he took another swig of his vodka.

  “Of course not Frannie. I’m deadly serious ...The sexual urge in us men... we men, “ he corrected himself, “ is very, very strong, you know dahling.”

  He giggled and made an attempt to get serious again, but his eyes began to droop.

  “Do you remember the time when Aunt Martha took us to the British Museum to see all those bloody reptiles... or was it the Zoo? I can’t remember. Anyway, you were sick on the pop-corn and I had to go to the bog for a pee. I was fourteen myself then and I remember when I got into the toilet, this chap came in a few seconds later whilst I was standing there doing the business, you know... and he flashed his ‘thing’ and I got excited staring at it. Well, he reached over and started to play with me. Lovely it was... as I remember.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, that’s the truth, honest to God, it is,” he confirmed and sat back looking very pleased with himself

  “Didn’t you tell Aunt Martha?”

  “No I didn’t... Not bloody likely... I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

  “But what happened to the man? Didn’t anyone see you both... doing this... this thing?”

  “No... he tossed me off and I jerked all over his raincoat, that’s all.”

  I felt truly sorry for Jeremy when he told me of this adventure when he was so young and I put my arms around him and gave him a hug.

  “Jeremy... Jeremy darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know anything of this... I never guessed.”

  He laughed and touched the tip of my nose with his forefinger.

  “That’s life dahling... that’s life... and as you have said, we are what we are and we are all different. If I had met a woman under the same circumstances, I wouldn’t have turned a hair.”

  I tried desperately not to laugh at his casual but refreshing philosophy of life, but I couldn’t stop myself... and he laughed with me.

  “Wouldn’t Aunt Martha have chased him with her stick if she knew that?” he said and closed his eyes complacently, pursing his lips and sipping his drink.

  “I bet she would, indeed... and God help him is she caught him,” I said and I could feel my head getting lighter by the moment.

  “I don’t know about you, my love, but I’ll just about be able to make it to my bed... We’ve had a lovely evening and I’m sure you’ll sleep well tonight, won’t you?”

  We started to get up from the settee and fell back again a few times before we could get ourselves organized and make our way upstairs to bed. I heard Jeremy being sick in the bathroom, just before I fell asleep to dream of the desert and the sun there and of men with dirty raincoats and someone being chased by Aunt Martha with her stick …whilst Marigold squawked madly through it all ....

  Chapter Seventeen

  We left Rowan Trees on the following Friday, having been there for four days and feeling very refreshed and closer in friendship than we had ever been before in our lives. I know this may sound strange, as we were always paired off together as children and through adolescence; always regarded as those two scallywags, by the family, but unknown to anyone, least of all ourselves... we lived in worlds that were poles apart. Jeremy was the epitome of truth in my eyes after that short holiday, although I had always regarded him with very high esteem, all through our lives. There was always something aloof and different about him... some mysterious quality that I could never comprehend... and now we both knew why. I loved him, even more now, after his confessions, but I must admit, my heart ached for him when I considered the loneliness of his life and the sure certainty that he would never change. He was very well aware himself, that he could avoid or dodge the circumstances of loneliness by taking casual partners or one night stands and entering into a life of sham with the illusion of love, but Jeremy was not that type of person.

  He also, by his own admission of being a snob, told me that Sebastian’s real name was ‘Charlie’. It was Jeremy who requested him to change it, because in Jeremy’s eyes, the tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed Adonis from East London looked more like a Sebastian than a Charlie. He also told me among other things, that the Reverend Richard Fotheringay... the Rev. Dick as he was better known, was not only partial to cream buns....

  ***

  Jeremy went to the Manse and I reluctantly returned to the Belgravia flat on my own. I dreaded the very thought of it, but fortunately, he wasn’t there when I got back and I was pleased to find amongst my mail, an invitation for an interview for the post of Theatre Sister at a large teaching hospital in the East End. I was thrilled, and the prospects brightened my day as I wandered aimlessly about the flat, trying to do anything that I thought needed to be done, in order to keep my mind off... him. I did some housework and put a casserole in the oven, then I got out some of my old books on Theatre technique... after all, it was a few years since I had done the work and methods and systems change so rapidly, but I enjoyed the read and it took me back to Iraq. I put the manual down and allowed myself the thought of the amber, green eyes of Darius Crane again... lingering with the dreams like a schoolgirl in love and waiting for her next date... a date that I knew would never come. I decided in the evening that I would visit Aunt Martha and telephoned her to see if she was available. She was... and we spent a very pleasant time together.

  “Is your husband still abroad, Frannie,” she asked as she turned the heel in the sock she was knitting. She was a ‘regular’ sock-knitter and nobody ever knew where they went when they were finished, but I rather think she had a collection of charities that benefited from her labours in the wool business. I told her Monty was still abroad and how I hated going back to the flat and dreaded his return.

  “But you needn’t go back there, need you dear. You can stay here as long as you wish, or there’s always Rowan Trees... yes? You have no obligations to return to him, have you?”

  I lifted a ball of the navy wool from her workbasket and studied it like I had never seen anything like it before.

  “Only my marriage contract,” I answered and Aunt Martha flew into a rage... joined by the faithful Marigold, but she raised her stick and her knitting fell to the floor at her feet.

  “Shut that row... YOU… “ she demanded and Marigold stopped just as though she had been switched off and I saw the bird swallow and glare at us as she took two paces to the right along her perch... very, very softly.

  “Now young lady... what responsibilities have you got to a creature who treats you no better than he would a slave... Why, you wouldn’t beat or kick a dog in the way he treats you, would you now?”

  “But a marriage is a marriage, regardless, isn’t it?” I protested weakly and in that moment, I thought of my mother, who endured endless opposition in that field.

  “No … it is NOT, “ Aunt Martha screamed... “It is a civil
contract between you and…. and this creature and he has broken his part of that contract by his conduct towards you. If you want to be scrupulous about it Frannie and talk about the moral issue, etc., well that’s another thing, but you were married in a Registry Office. That is a contract of agreement arranged by the State and not by God. You did not marry this man in a Church, where it could be argued that you had some sort of Sacramental Blessing with it. Drop the bastard, I say and divorce him. The State allows that too, you know. Now that’s my advice to you.”

  I was stunned and surprised at Aunt Martha’s statement and her domestic views. I had never heard her talk this way before in all the years I had known her, even in her most perverse and disagreeable moments in the past, when she was being cussed as frequently she had been. She was furious and kept moving her head from side to side as if to avert her anger in that way and Marigold kept her head down and rolled her eyes, but her bonce also moved from side to side as she nibbled nervously at her millet seed.

  Monty returned on the following Monday morning, just as I was setting off for my interview and I could see him get out of the taxi from our bedroom window where I was standing and managed to make my ‘escape’ down the back stairway and out into the street by the tradesmen’s entrance.

  ***

  “Your credentials appear to be more than satisfactory Miss Barrington-Smythe, I must say. Your references from the army are excellent and I see you have served abroad... in the Middle East, is that correct?”

  I answered in the affirmative and I could see Colonel Steel’s signature at the bottom of one of the letters on the Matron’s desk. I would recognise that scrawl anywhere.

  “Would you be able to commence duties in the Theatre at the end of the month... say the 29th?”

  “Yes, that would be fine... but there is only one thing... my name.”

  The Matron looked at me over the top of her glasses before she removed them and placed them gently on her desk, on top of the Colonel’s letter.

  “It should be Smith,” I said, “I don’t like the double-barrel inference, if you don’t mind.”

  The good lady stared at me for a moment before she spoke again.

  “Smith,” she said... “Just plain Smith?”

  “Just plain Smith,” I confirmed.

  “Certainly, if that is what you wish, Miss... Smith.”

  I didn’t say anything about the Blythe-Summers tag as I hoped it wouldn’t be too long before I could get rid of that label too, as I had decided I wanted to get a divorce a.s.a.p, even if I didn’t have a clue how to go about getting one at that stage.

  “Would you like me to show you round the theatres before you leave, Miss Smith? oh please, you must allow me to call you Francesca. We’re all Christian names here at the hospital.”

  “I would be more than delighted, Matron, but all my friends call me Frannie.”

  The Matron rose and tapped some papers together on her desk.

  “Right... Frannie it is... now come with me and we might manage a cup of tea before the round. I think the main theatre is being used at the moment anyway... and number three as well... or it should be.”

  I glanced at the name on her desk and remembered the signature on the letter that had been sent to me.

  “Thank you, Miss Atkinson.”

  “Ethyl …please,” she answered with a shy smile.

  ***

  I walked about London for nearly two hours after the interview before I returned to the flat and He greeted me as I came through the door with his usual self-assured style, just as though our marriage had really been made... as so many believe... in heaven...

  “Ah, there you are my lovely. Look what I’ve got for you. Have you been a good girl whilst I’ve been away?”

  He came towards me with a small packet, neatly wrapped and tied with a lavender ribbon.

  “For my best girl,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. “Well now as I said, what have you been up to since I saw you last? Have you missed me terribly?

  I couldn’t think what I should have said and if I had said what I meant, he would probably have hit me, so I kept quiet and he watched me closely as I opened the present.

  “Well... Do you like it darling?” he beamed and I faked a smile ...a rather weak one, I fear. “Let me put it on for you,” he said and took the gold necklace from its case and put it round my neck, kissing the clasp as it snapped shut. “Look, “ he grinned as he pulled me towards the mirror and stood behind me with a strange and perverse look of pride in his eyes. It was then I cried.

  “What’s this? My little girl not happy, when her hero comes home from the wars,” he mused and I felt ridiculous as I stood there, choking on my tears.

  “I have a headache... the necklace is beautiful, but I want to go to....” I started to say, but had second thoughts, in fear of the consequences. Then I changed my mind. “I need some fresh air,” (I did not want to go to bed under any circumstance.)

  “No,” he said abruptly, “You haven’t got a headache... you only think you have. Now tell me what I want to know. What have you been doing since I went away. Tell me all the details.”

  I told him I had spent a few days at Rowan Trees with Jeremy and he sneered.

  “Well that’s not very interesting darling, is it now? I mean, that young man would bore the pants off anyone in a single hour, let alone a few days, don’t you think? No, you mustn’t see him anymore. I forbid it. He’ll only make you more depressed than you normally are, my sweet and that would never do.”

  He stopped talking suddenly and laughed as he began to embrace me.

  “Mind you, I suppose I should be thankful really... shouldn’t I? I mean, that little eunuch wouldn’t be any threat to a full-blooded man like me... would he? Come to bed now darling and I’ll make you forget that miserable little sod... oh, and wear your new necklace... you won’t need anything more,” he laughed and I could see the hate in his eyes.

  “Stop it... stop it... stop talking about Jeremy like that,” I shouted, “He’s my step-brother and … and I love him.”

  Monty strutted across the lounge towards the bedroom, undoing his cuff-links and dropping them into an onyx jar on the sideboard.

  “Birds of a feather then, I guess, but I hope you always remember that he is just your step-brother, sweetie. We don’t want anything... incestuous going on now, do we … even if I doubt he could manage it. He couldn’t raise a hope in a woman let alone his...” he snarled, but I cut short his sentence and lashed out, striking him across the face with the necklace, before he could say another word. His eyes narrowed and he dabbed the cut on the side of his face with his handkerchief.

  “Well, well... I have competition now, have I? Oh dear, you do look so much more attractive when you’re wild, darling... you should get a little fiery more often... it excites me. Anyway, I needn’t worry about your little stepbrother. He’s nothing more than a pathetic little queer... a syphilitic prick that even a good man wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. He’s a useless bastard, I tell you... Should have been put down at birth.” His eyes were blazing with fury and contempt as he grabbed hold of my arm. “Now, I’m prepared to forget this little incident ever happened... for the time being anyway... come to bed and don’t let’s waste any more time.”

  I went to run from the room but he took me by the shoulders and shook me violently.

  “I said BED... did you hear me, or have you gone deaf as well as dumb?”

  ***

  I cried myself to sleep with the sick smell of his after shave lingering all over me and I could hear him singing in the bathroom.

  “Where e’er I wander... there’s no place like home. “

  Chapter Eighteen

  He didn’t like me taking the job at the hospital, but then, as he was away so often, he couldn’t do much about it, never
theless, when he wasn’t away on business, I had a terrible time getting out of the flat and he would do and say anything that he thought might stop me and make me stay at home... He didn’t even like me going shopping and yet, he would not come with me. It was below his manly dignity, I guess.

  I had the fearful dread of turning up for work with a black eye and therefore I tried so hard to ‘keep the peace’ by agreeing with his every whim when he was at the flat and wishing he would never come back when he went away on his ‘business’ trips. I felt I was simply a sex toy... there was no love and I shall never understand why he married me.

  Jeremy telephoned me regularly … both at the flat and at the hospital to make sure I was alright. I don’t know what I would have done without him and I was ashamed whenever I thought of what my ‘other half’ considered him to be as half a man, if a man at all... Jeremy was much more of a man than the imbecile of a creature who lived with me, but for all that, we were a pathetic pair, Jeremy and myself; He, because he was condemned to celibacy for the rest of his life and me, because I wanted to be free of a marriage that was crippling me both in body and in soul. What a mess!

  I worked in the theatre for just over a year before the opportunity I had been waiting for, eventually arrived, however, not before I had been beaten up more times that I cared to remember and had been admitted to hospital with a kidney complaint and spent nearly a month as a patient. The trouble was never clearly diagnosed and the doctors had difficulty with a satisfactory treatment, but I continued to say nothing to them about the beatings, or the kicks, or the near-strangulation... although I knew I should have done. It may have thrown some light on their problem of diagnosis but I chose to leave things as they were so that I could be released from hospital as soon as possible.