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Chapter Five

      If Hannah could have confided in Gloria she could have told her that her contentment in marriage had lasted just six weeks, until the end of October. It hadn’t been a bed of roses until then of course, for the problems in the bedroom, which Arthur had never managed to control, had caused him great distress.

      Added to that, his meanness, which had reared its ugly head on honeymoon, continued into their married life. He doled out meagre amounts of housekeeping every Friday evening, examined the shopping lists meticulously and quizzed Hannah for hours if she asked for more.

      Apart from that, Hannah disliked his treatment of Josie. Despite his promise of trying his best to get on with her Hannah couldn’t help feeling that if that was his best, she’d hate to see his worst, for he’d never really taken to the child. Sometimes he was so open in showing his dislike and resentment, that Hannah became frustrated and angry with him.

      Then one day, towards the very end of October, Arthur came home from work in a foul mood. He’d been odd for a few days, morose and snappy, but Hannah, thinking he maybe had a problem at work that he didn’t want to talk about, didn’t worry too much about it. But Arthur had no problem at work; his problem was his marriage and that meant Hannah.

      Despite inheriting the house and hints the boss was dropping about dependable married men, he doubted he’d have been swayed to marry anyone if Mrs Emmerson hadn’t urged him to ask Hannah. And he had to admit that he’d been flattered when she’d accepted his proposal.

      He’d been aware he had a sexual problem. He knew his penis didn’t go hard, but then he thought he’d never given it occasion to. Before Hannah, he’d never had any encounter of that type, knowing his mother wouldn’t have liked it. And not having discussed the matter of a hardened penis with anyone, he didn’t know how normal it was and what to do about it. In fact, he was so hazy about the sexual act that eventually, and with great embarrassment, he’d entered a shop in one of the seedier areas of Birmingham and bought himself a book on the matter.

      However, it hadn’t touched on his problems at all. The book seemed to take it for granted that the desire and love the man had for his partner would make the penis erect naturally. It wasn’t something you could ask anyone about, not even a doctor and Arthur had no idea what to do.

      In his heart he knew he shouldn’t have married, but he had and that was that. Initially, his abortive attempts caused him shame and embarrassment, then utter humiliation and eventually, anger.

      And this anger he turned on Hannah, pushing away her arms when she sought to comfort him that night. ‘Get off me! It’s all your bloody fault,’ he shouted at her when he’d again tried and failed.

      ‘What is? What is it?’

      ‘You know what! A bloody temptress that’s what you are!’

      Still Hannah felt sorry for him. She was as confused as Arthur over his sexual problem. Like him, she could never bring herself to speak about it, but she understood how it must make him feel. ‘I told you it doesn’t matter,’ she said consolingly.

      ‘Of course it bloody matters. Are you some sodding imbecile that can’t understand that?’

      Hannah gave a small gasp. This was the side of Arthur she’d never seen before. The face he turned towards her was almost puce, he was so angry, and his eyes were wild, his hair standing in spikes where he’d run his hands through it.

      Still she persisted. ‘Look, Arthur, I know it’s important, but there’s plenty of time. Shall I pop down and make us both a cup of tea?’

      ‘Tea! Tea! You bloody stupid bugger, you,’ Arthur cried, pushing at her so that she fell on the bed where he straddled her, holding down her arms while he spat out a stream of abuse, vile words, some Hannah had never heard before.

      She thrashed on the bed to free herself, but Arthur held her fast, tightening his grip on her arms while he continued to yell obscenities at her. She closed her eyes for the light was still on and she couldn’t bear the look in his eyes, nor his thin lips, rimmed with spittle.

      Eventually, the violent tirade was over and Arthur rolled away from her. Through anger, he’d felt a stirring inside him that any desire he’d felt for Hannah had never achieved, but still he was ashamed of his behaviour.

      As for Hannah, she felt abused. If Arthur had had sex with her, which would have been his right after all, she’d have felt it at least showed normal behaviour. But this filthy, vitriolic abuse he threw at her was hard to bear and she hurt and ached all over, too, from his rough handling. Every time she closed her eyes she relived the scene and it was the early hours of the morning before she finally slept.

      In the morning, she lay and tried to analyse the situation. Arthur was not naturally a violent man. Obviously, his frustrations had spilled over, that was all. Maybe she should battle to overcome her reticence and try and convince him to seek help. Perhaps there were things he could do, drugs he could take. They could do wonderful things these days.

      Arthur, coming into the bedroom from the bathroom after a shave, saw that Hannah was awake and knelt down by her side of the bed. ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said, ‘really sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’

      Hannah smiled at him. Hadn’t she just told herself that that was the way of it? A one-off occurrence that would never happen again and so didn’t have to be referred to at all. ‘It’s all right,’ she told him. ‘I understand.’

      ‘You are a wonderful wife,’ Arthur said earnestly, giving Hannah’s cheek a kiss. ‘The most wonderful wife in all the world.’

      It was a little harder for Hannah to face Josie, who showed by her plain embarrassment and downcast eyes that she’d heard every word of the confrontation in the bedroom the previous night. Still, it wasn’t something Hannah felt she had to explain and certainly not to a child of nine, so she busied herself making breakfast.

      Later, Hannah made her way to the guesthouse where she would help Gloria clear up after the breakfast, tidy and clean the rooms and prepare the evening meals for her paying guests.

      It was only when the guesthouse was particularly full that Hannah would be required to wait on in the evenings now. Most times, Gloria said she could manage and Hannah was home in time to eat with Arthur and Josie.

      Normally, she enjoyed the work and the company although that morning she wished she didn’t have to go, for she was tired. She knew too she didn’t look her best and that Gloria would be sure to remark on it. And she did, after a swift look at Hannah’s face as she entered the kitchen. ‘You all right?’ she asked ‘You don’t look at all well.’

      ‘No, I’m all right,’ Hannah said. ‘I … I didn’t get much sleep.’

      ‘Oh yes,’ Gloria said with a knowing wink and when Hannah flushed crimson she went on, ‘I mean it’s natural and you are married.’

      ‘There is nothing natural in our marriage,’ Hannah wanted to cry. But this was something she could not share, not with anyone, so she forced herself to smile at Gloria as she exchanged her outdoor coat for an overall and began her work for the day.

      For the next week things went on as normal and on 5th November, Hannah, Arthur and Josie went to a bonfire and fireworks party, which a friend of Gloria’s was having in their garden. ‘There will be soup and sausages and things to eat,’ Hannah told Arthur. ‘Do say it’s all right?’

      Arthur had no desire after a day at work to strike out again into the cold streets to watch a fire and a few paltry fireworks, but he went for Hannah’s sake. She intimated that it was for Josie, but really she was as excited as the child.

      He knew because Hannah had told him that they’d not had bonfire nights in Ireland, but Hannah had gone to her first one with friends from the hotel the first year she was in England. By the second year it was 1939, war had been declared,

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