Page 16 of The Lavender Bride

15

LONDON, AUGUST 1947

Freddie stands in the doorway. I gasp, my hand automatically covering my mouth. His face is bruised, a greenish hue spreads across his cheekbone and along his jaw. Around his left eye, there’s a black and purple shadow. A scabbed-over cut slashes across his forehead, a second, smaller one crosses his cheek. He’s dressed in a collarless shirt. His trousers are too big for him and are held up with braces.

‘What happened?’ I walk towards him, holding my hands out to comfort him. He crosses his arms and doesn’t meet my eyes. He detours around me to take the chair next to mine. Disappointment swims up my throat, bitter as bile. I take a step back.

‘Oh, this.’ His hand brushes across his face as if to dismiss his injuries. ‘It’s not the first time. Stuff like this happens to people like me.’

I gape at him. He’s been beaten up before and not told me? Ten minutes ago, I’d have said that was unthinkable. But since I stepped through the door of this house, that certainty has vanished. I don’t know what’s going on. And that frightens me.

Not knowing what else to do, I sit down again. His bruises look worse close up. The skin puffy and tight. ‘Who did this to you?’

‘There were two blokes. Big ones.’ He gestures with his hands, sketching out the breadth of them and, for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the Freddie I know. ‘I was with Michael. They didn’t like seeing us together.’

My first thought is, why didn’t he tell me Michael was coming to Sheffield? The second is whether these blokes know Michael and find him as blooming irritating as I do. Not that I’d stoop to beating him up. No one deserves that.

‘Why?’ I bite my lip. ‘They got something against university students?’

Freddie looks at me flatly, his eyes narrowed. ‘Are you really that clueless?’

I stare at him blankly. I’ve come down here to help him, to be together like we always promised we would. Why isn’t he pleased to see me and why is he taking that tone?

‘About what? Father wouldn’t tell me what happened.’

‘Of course he wouldn’t.’ Freddie briefly glances at me. There’s a look in his eyes I’ve not seen before. A guardedness that makes anxiety seethe in my stomach. ‘Reverend Wade got me off with a warning. Though I don’t fool myself that was for me. He was trying to protect Mum and Dad and to avoid my name getting in the papers.’

‘For what?’ I throw up my hands. ‘The only thing Father was clear about is that I’m not to see you again.’

‘He said that to me too.’ Freddie looks away, his jaw tense. ‘Told me he wouldn’t allow me to pollute his daughter any longer.’

There’s a huge lump in my throat and a pulse beating in my temple that makes me feel a little sick. But whatever’s happened, we’ll sort it out together. Freddie and Audrey against the world as it’s always been. With a huge effort, I keep my voice even as I say, ‘Tell me from the beginning what happened.’

‘I can’t.’ He stands and moves to the window, peering out through the dirty net curtain. Above his head is a flypaper encrusted with shiny, black bodies.

I daren’t go to him. Not while he’s like this. I have to wait and let him come to me. ‘Why not? We’re friends.’ My voice is soft and gentle. ‘We’ve always told each other everything.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head, sadly and wearily as he turns back to me. ‘There are some things I didn’t tell anyone until I met Michael.’

I cross my arms as my throat constricts. We’re back to ruddy Michael again, are we? Why is it always about him these days? My mouth twists as I say, ‘Where is Michael? Does he look as bad as you?’

‘No, I got the worst of it.’ Freddie scratches the scar on his cheek. ‘Michael’s with his family in Putney. They’re not narrow-minded like mine.’

I fight back the urge to scream, Narrow-minded about what? He’s talking in riddles, just like Father. It makes me furious that they’re both keeping secrets from me, treating me like a little girl. I cross my arms and when I speak, my voice comes out louder than I intended. ‘I’m not a child. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I just want to know.’

He blows out a long breath as he takes a packet of Camel cigarettes from his trouser pocket. ‘Fine, but once I’ve told you, you’ll wish you didn’t know.’

I give him a long sideways look. ‘Let me be the judge of that.’

He takes his time to light a cigarette. I smell the sulphur as he strikes the match. ‘Michael and I were in a pub on Wednesday night. We’d had a couple of drinks and that made us careless.’ He blows smoke upwards. ‘We went outside to the alley behind the pub. While we were together—’ He coughs and blushes and it’s as if a lead weight has settled on my chest because it takes a lot to make Freddie blush. I hold my breath as he continues, ‘These two big blokes came out and beat us up. I told Michael to run and he did although he didn’t know where he was going. He was wandering the backstreets for hours.’

There’s such affection in Freddie’s voice. I may have missed it before but it’s unmistakable now. A shudder shakes my entire body.

‘Then what?’ I say through numb lips.

‘The blokes that were punching me had me down on the ground. The police arrested all of us.’

I stare at him, my ears turning red, as suddenly, I know what no one will tell me directly. My body turns entirely cold as the shock sinks in. I have no idea what men do with men but I know it happens.

I desperately don’t want Freddie to be one of those as Father euphemistically calls it. He’s mine and we’re going to get married. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t mean it. So he can’t be, can he? But why was he arrested if not?

‘For what?’ I manage to croak past the cold lump in my throat. ‘What did they charge you with?’

Freddie’s chin comes up and he stares straight at me. What I see in his blue eyes is embarrassment but not shame. ‘Gross indecency.’ His hands form fists. ‘The two louts who beat me up told the cops they’d seen me and Michael kissing.’

Icy cold floods through me. ‘You like other men?’ My voice is barely a croak.

‘Yes.’

My lips pinch together so hard, my teeth grate. I shake my head. I won’t believe it. I can’t.

‘But we were going to get married.’

‘Oh, Audrey,’ he says, crossing his arms as his body turns away from me. ‘You didn’t still believe that, did you?’

I flinch. For a long, ghastly moment, I stare at him open-mouthed. Then the pieces start to fall into place and my heart shrivels. The night I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away, his growing closeness to Michael, the men I’ve seen him staring at, the terrible black moods that come over him.

‘Are you all right?’ Freddie asks. His voice is flat, devoid of concern.

‘Of course I’m not all right!’ There’s a pain in my chest and a throbbing in my temple. Hot tears press behind my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself crying.

‘I’ll get you a glass of water.’ He leaves the room so fast, it’s an insult. He can’t wait to get away from me. Oh, Freddie, why are you being like this? Where’s my old friend gone?

I curl over, holding my head in my hands. I can’t believe it. I just can’t. I love Freddie. I always have. All of our beautiful dreams and now none of that is going to happen because he’s one of those . He doesn’t love me like that. Right now, it feels like he doesn’t even like me. I’ve given up everything for him and he doesn’t care at all.

Freddie’s footsteps return and I force myself upright, ignoring the dizziness. He hands me an enamel mug filled with water. ‘I couldn’t find a glass.’

Our fingers brush together as I take it from him and he hastily snatches his hand back as if my touch has scalded him. It’s such a small gesture but it makes tears flood my eyes. Because I ached for him to touch me and now I understand he’ll never want that.

I sip the tepid water. It eases my dry throat, but does nothing for the muffled throbbing that’s building in my head.

‘It’s not wrong,’ Freddie blurts out as he returns to his chair. His gaze meets mine and now there’s a fierce challenge in his eyes. ‘Michael helped me see it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just the way I am. A part of me like having blue eyes and curly hair.’

That goes against everything I’ve been brought up to believe. To Father, it is sodomy, a dreadful sin. Freddie’s parents believe that too.

My fingers twist as I say, ‘It’s illegal. Do you want to be in trouble with the police all your life?’

‘The law’s wrong. It’s not fair to make only one way to love legal and outlaw everyone who doesn’t fit.’ Freddie’s jaw juts. ‘It’s why I joined the Communist Party. Once the revolution comes, people like me will be free to live as we want.’

I stare at him blankly. He’s a Communist too? My mind races as I think back. Have there been clues I’ve missed about this as well? An occasional rant about workers’ rights. Freddie getting drunk when Labour won the election two years ago.

‘And that’s something else you didn’t tell me,’ I say flatly.

‘You wouldn’t have understood.’ He folds his arms as he sinks deeper into his chair.

I fold mine against the chill of his words. ‘You didn’t give me a ruddy chance.’

He laughs hollowly. ‘You’re not exactly a deep thinker, Audrey. All you care about is photography and Hollywood.’

There’s a painful heat behind my eyes. I look down at my polished brogues and try to remember how to breathe. I feel myself shrinking, curling in on myself. I really am worthless if Freddie thinks so. Everything Father has ever said must be true. I press my hand against my middle as if that will sooth the hurt.

‘I thought you cared about Hollywood too.’ My voice is barely a whisper. There are layers upon layers of betrayal. ‘Was all of that a lie too? Did you never mean to go to with me?’

‘Maybe at the beginning.’ Freddie’s voice drops so low, I have to lean forward to catch his words. ‘I thought if I got out of Sheffield and away from my parents, I wouldn’t feel so wrong. Then I met Michael. I realised it wasn’t me that was wrong but the way the world sees people like me.’ He sounds enormously weary as if this is a battle he’s been fighting for years. He gestures hopelessly, his gaze darting past my shoulder. ‘Hollywood was only ever a childish dream.’

I am so tired of being called childish! I leap to my feet. Why is it wrong to hope for a better life? To dream about living in a place that’s sunny and beautiful, instead of dreary old England?

‘Not to me it isn’t!’ I pace to the fireplace and turn and stare down at him, anger knotting my stomach, my hands like fists. ‘To me, it means everything. I love you, Freddie. I always have. I thought we had a future together.’

He curls over his knees, his elbows tight against his body. Into the long silence, I hear a car pass outside, footsteps cross the floor in the room above our heads, a bluebottle buzzes at the window.

When Freddie finally raises his head, his face is stone hard. ‘And you wonder why I didn’t tell you?’

The pounding in my ears doesn’t block out his terrible words. I move to stand behind the other chair, letting it form a barrier between us. ‘You let me believe we were going to get married and have children!’

‘Oh, grow up, Audrey!’ The harshness in his voice is like a slap. ‘If you believed that then you’re more of a fool than I thought.’

Every muscle in my body suddenly goes rigid. With one part of my brain, I know that later, I’ll be devasted by what he’s just said. Right now, I’m simply and plainly furious. Because whatever faults I have, I’ve been a good, loyal friend and this is not the way you treat a friend.

‘I can’t believe you just said that.’ My voice vibrates with anger. ‘What have these Communists done to you? They’ve turned your head and you’re not the person I thought you were.’

Colour rises in Freddie’s cheeks as he says, ‘I knew you’d reject me when you found out who I really am.’

He’s turning everything against me. He’s making it all about me when it’s him that’s in the wrong. He’s the one who kept secrets and made promises he had no intention of keeping. All I’ve done is care about him and try to help and he’s throwing all of that back in my face.

‘You never gave me a chance.’ The words tumble out of me. ‘You lied to me. You let me believe you cared!’ My voice hitches. ‘I believed you and because of that, I’ve been kicked out by my parents, who never want to see me again,’ the hot tingle of tears returns and I have to take a breath to steady myself, ‘and I came down to London because I thought you’d want to be with me?—’

‘I didn’t ask you to come.’ He gestures at my carboard suitcase. ‘What did you think was going to happen? We’d get married and run off to Hollywood together?’

There’s such scorn in his words. I’ve been a blind fool. I put my trust in him and he’s stamped on it. The shame of it is more than I can bear. No wonder Father thinks I’m a worthless hussy. I’ve chased a boy down to London and now he doesn’t even want me.

I bite down on my bottom lip but it’s too late. Hot, painful tears scorch my cheeks. ‘I thought you were in trouble and needed a friend.’ I grab my hat and with shaking fingers put it back on. ‘Clearly, I was wrong.’

‘I have friends.’ He puts his hands in his pockets as his chin comes up. ‘Michael and the chaps here understand me.’

I close my eyes as if that will stop the words from piercing. He doesn’t say, and you don’t but he doesn’t need to. I’ve known him for that long, he doesn’t have to speak the actual words.

I have to get out of here. I scrub tears from my cheeks with my fingers, grab my case and my handbag and head towards the door. My case bangs against the leg of the coffee table, the milk bottle wobbles and then falls.

For a second, I watch as a white pool slowly expands over the marked surface. Spilt milk. I hear Mum’s voice in my head saying, ‘Don’t cry over spilt milk.’ But I want to sob and scream and pound the floor with my fists until the hurting stops.

‘Go home, Audrey,’ Freddie says from behind my shoulder. His voice is inordinately weary. ‘London’s no place for a girl as na?ve as you.’

He’s doing it again. Putting me in the wrong when he’s the one who’s broken everything. I spin to face him. ‘If I’m na?ve, it’s because no one tells me anything. You’re just as bad as Father.’

Freddie’s lips curl in a cruel smile. I’ve never seen him look like that before.

‘You need to take your head out of the clouds, Audrey. You’re eighteen. It’s time you stopped dreaming about going to Hollywood and marrying a film star.’

Has everything in our friendship been a lie? All the times he told me to be strong because Father couldn’t hold me back forever. Did he never mean a word of it? Well, I did and I am going to show him and Father and everyone who’s ever doubted me.

My hands clench into fists as I spit the words at him. ‘You wait, Freddie Greenwood! I am going to go to Hollywood and I will be a success and I will marry a film star. And you’ll be stuck in boring old England. I hope Michael,’ I can’t hold back a sneer when I say his name, ‘and your Communist pals are half as good friends as I’ve been to you.’

I don’t wait for him to respond. I pull the door open and barge through it. Seconds later, I’m standing on the pavement, shaking from head to foot. I march around the corner and then I drop my case on the ground and bend over. My hands cradle my middle, the enormous, gaping hole where my love for Freddie used to be.

I press my hand against my temple where the throbbing is getting more intense. I feel wretched. I need to lie down before I fall. The only other place I know in this city is the YWCA that Esther made me book. I have to get there. Then I can fall apart.

* * *

The bus takes me to Great George Street. I find the YWCA, taking in nothing about it except it’s blessedly cool. I manage to say the right thing to the lady at reception, who shows me to my room. It’s small, sparsely furnished with a single bed, a bedside cabinet and a chest of drawers. As soon as the door shuts behind her, I fall onto the bed, my feet sticking off the end so as not to dirty the bedclothes.

My head aches as if all of the tumult of emotion is pounding on my skull. I feel hot and sick and unbelievably tired. The whirlwind that swept me up on Saturday morning has deposited me here. Spent, exhausted, heartbroken. I’ve lost everything.

Shame consumes me. I’m alone in a strange city and the only person I know has made it perfectly clear he’s no time for me any more. Childish, na?ve, head in the clouds. Freddie’s words ring in my head. They’re sharper than Father’s insults; they pierce deeper. Because Freddie really knows me. I’ve told him everything, trusted him entirely and he’s thrown it all back at me.

What am I going to do? Who’s going to help me now? I don’t know how to exist in this world without Freddie.

But all the time, Freddie was building a life without me. A life he doesn’t want me to be part of. He’s cast me off like a shirt he’s grown out of. Fool, na?ve, head in the clouds . How could he be so beastly? When did our friendship stop mattering to him?

A ghastly thought hits me. Was I simply useful to him back home? Was it handy to have a girl around to help keep his secret? Was he using me for all those years?

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I press my hand against my temple as if that will ease the throbbing pain. Freddie Greenwood has played me for a fool and the terrible truth is I’ve let him. I built a future on daydreams and I shouldn’t be surprised that they’ve turned out to be as insubstantial as clouds.

I sigh deeply. It would help if people talked to girls about homosexuality. How am I supposed to know about these things if everyone conspires to keep me in the dark?

I lie in the narrow bed for hours. The pain in my head is terrible but it doesn’t eclipse the pain in my heart.