Walking Back to Happiness

But what odds now? Hannah thought, as she got to her feet as the organ began to play. The die was cast and it was too late for any regrets. Hannah was now Mrs Arthur Bradley and would stay that way for life.

Chapter Four (#ulink_62a49344-b417-5dbf-a54b-27b199ea3e36)

Hannah had been terribly excited to be going to Blackpool for her honeymoon and it was a shame that it turned out to be such a letdown for her. Her pleasure had been sustained in the train journey, especially when Arthur sat and held her hand, and had only begun to slip when she stepped out of the taxi outside the small and rather dingy hotel where they were to stay.

The crabbed woman who described herself as owner showed them to their room and issued them with a list of hotel rules and regulations and did so without even a show of welcome from her sullen mouth and hard, cold eyes.

Hannah circled the depressing room. The paintwork was a drab brown, the faded wallpaper was peeling in places and the bed, she tested by plumping herself down on it, was lumpy. She glanced up at Arthur and said, ‘Not very nice is it?’

She was immediately sorry when she saw Arthur’s face colour. ‘It wasn’t easy finding anywhere,’ he said.

‘I know. I’m sorry. That sounded very ungrateful,’ Hannah said, contrite.

‘And at least we have the meal to look forward to,’ Arthur said. ‘They usually serve dinner at one o’clock, but I persuaded them to cook us a full meal when we arrived as a special favour. I knew we’d probably be hungry.’

Maybe a meal would put a new complexion on the matter entirely, Hannah thought. Maybe food would also still the panicky doubts that she’d done the wrong thing in marrying Arthur that were making her feel a bit sick. She pushed the doubts away, stood up and forced a smile on her face. ‘You’re right, Arthur. It’s hunger making me so miserable. Shall we go down?’

Just a little later, Hannah was to sit in the dark, unwelcoming dining room and think that while the hotel staff might have agreed to serve them a full dinner, they were doing so begrudgingly. Arthur and Hannah were the only ones in the room, for high tea – the usual meal at that time of the evening – was well over and the guests had dispersed either to their rooms, the residents’ lounge or the small bar their landlady had pointed out on their arrival. Hannah couldn’t blame them, glancing around the room as she waited for the food to arrive. She knew it wasn’t a place she’d have chosen to linger in.

And then the insipid, unappetising meal came and Hannah felt her spirits plummet. It was served by a girl with a sulky face and lank, greasy hair who laid the plates before them in a ‘like it, or lump it’ style.

And Hannah did not like it. The grey meat was tough and stringy, the vegetables over-cooked, the mashed potatoes lumpy and the whole lot of it covered with glutinous gravy that was barely warm. However, she refused to get totally depressed by it, even when the apple pie she’d ordered had more pie than apple. The custard she’d declined, remembering her experience with the gravy. Never mind, she told herself, we shan’t spend much time in the hotel. Except, a little voice inside her said, for the bedroom.

She glanced across at Arthur and her stomach contracted as she thought of what lay ahead. Arthur caught her look and smiled. ‘Do you fancy a walk, my dear?’

Hannah was glad that Arthur seemed to want to postpone the moment when they’d have to retire to that uninviting and chilly bedroom as much as she did and she agreed eagerly.

Once outside though, she wondered at the wisdom of such action, for the wind was fierce and snatched away all attempts of conversation. But as they neared the promenade clutched tightly together from necessity rather than desire, she heard the tantalising music of the fair.

Anyone who’d ever been to Blackpool told her about that fair, the Golden Mile they called it, and she’d caught a glimpse of it as they’d passed it in a taxi earlier that evening. But it was one thing to pass it quickly in the dusky half-light, quite another to come upon it in its full glory, ablaze with flashing lights of all colours, now that night had fallen over the town. Music from various rides was thumping all around them, mixed with screams and laughter.

Hannah had never seen anything like it and her eyes were everywhere and wide with astonishment. Beautiful carousel horses pranced round and round with laughing people astride them and just feet away, there were other carriages attached somehow to a huge big wheel spinning wildly, those inside them screaming like mad. And no wonder, Hannah thought. ‘Oh, Arthur,’ she said, breathless with the excitement of it all. ‘I’d be frightened to death on that.’

Arthur laughed and squeezed her hand. Hannah passed many rides that night that alarmed her. One had little cars running around a track, which dropped so suddenly that Hannah gave a little cry of terror, sure a car would be thrown from the tracks, spilling out its unfortunate occupants. Arthur hugged her tighter, touched by her fear brought about by her inexperience of such things.

She stood mesmerised by a small area where cars darted about and seemed intent on bashing into other cars. They were attached to wires or something in the roof, she noticed, which sparked in a frightening way. ‘What are they?’ she asked Arthur. ‘And what are they doing?’

‘They’re bumper cars.’

‘Don’t people get hurt?’

‘Not often,’ Arthur said. ‘Look at the thick rubber around them. That’s the whole point of it.’

Other booths advertised the ‘Ghost Train’, or ‘House of Horrors’, or ‘Hall of Mirrors’ and Arthur and Hannah were encouraged to sample the delights inside. ‘Come on, sir,’ said the woman outside the Ghost Train. ‘Dark as pitch inside and filled with goolies. Gives you a chance to hold your young lady tight.’

Smiling, Arthur shook his head and turned away and then Hannah saw her first pink candyfloss. ‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Candyfloss.’

‘It looks like cotton wool.’

‘It tastes nothing like it. It’s spun sugar,’ Arthur told her. ‘There are toffee apples too.’

But he didn’t offer to buy Hannah either and she was too shy of him to ask, but she felt disappointed and told herself not to be silly, she couldn’t sample all the delights of the place on her first evening. Arthur didn’t offer to take her on any ride either and in fact, told her firmly that they were a waste of money.

Hannah supposed they were, but they appeared such fun. ‘People seem to enjoy them though, Arthur,’ she ventured.

‘Hmph. A fool and his money are soon parted,’ Arthur said pompously.

‘But we could spend a little, couldn’t we?’ Hannah said. ‘To sort of get value out of the place.’

‘“Value out of the place!’” Arthur repeated. ‘My dear, we’ve just had a wedding which was not cheap, despite the help Mrs Emmerson gave us and there was the train journey here, and the lodging house we’re staying in. Believe me, there is little over for indulging in a fair. Never mind,’ he went on consolingly, as he patted her arm. ‘Women are not supposed to understand such matters.’

Hannah opened her mouth to argue, but shut it again. She’d paid for Josie’s outfit and her own, but the small reception in the room behind the Lyndhurst pub afterwards had been paid for by Gloria on her insistence. The honeymoon was Arthur’s contribution, and maybe it had cost a lot and there was little over, but surely just one or two rides wouldn’t break the bank?

‘Tomorrow,’ Arthur said, ‘we’ll take a walk along the front. That at least won’t cost us a penny. And now, I think we should make for home. I’m ready for bed myself.’

Hannah felt her face flame. The pleasures she’d lovingly shared with Mike Murphy she could now share legally and properly with her husband. She hoped he’d never need know that she wasn’t a virgin, for she knew a man like him would expect her to be.

But Hannah needn’t have worried. They returned to the hotel frozen, their red cheeks and dishevelled clothes showing the power of the wind. Arthur smiled at her as she took off her coat and tried to flatten her hair. ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘You look lovely. Would you like a nightcap?’

Hannah had never cared overmuch for any alcohol she’d ever tasted, so she said, ‘Not for me, Arthur. I’m chilled through and I’d really like a cup of tea.’

Arthur laughed. ‘Really, my dear. You can’t have a cup of tea. If you want warming up, I’ll buy you a brandy. That should do the trick, but don’t get too much of a taste for it. It’s very expensive stuff.’

Hannah, from the first sip, knew she’d never develop a taste for brandy. She thought it was like the worst medicine she’d ever been forced to swallow. It did warm her up, however, although she felt her throat to be on fire.

It didn’t stop the shaking inside though, for that wasn’t due just to the cold, and her heart began to jump about in her chest when Arthur whispered in her ear just as she drained her glass. ‘Shall we go up?’

Upstairs in the bedroom, Arthur seemed like a different being. His eyes looked heavy and his mouth rather slack and Hannah knew he was filled with desire for her. She wished she felt something for him, but he stirred her not at all.

But, she reminded herself, she’d married him. Because a priest spoke words over them and they had a paper proving they were man and wife, Arthur had a perfect right to do as he pleased and she had to submit to him. She’d never felt she’d submitted to Mike. She’d wanted sex as much as he had. And now, though she didn’t love Arthur, she liked him well enough and in a way longed for fulfilment, so why was she shaking and afraid? She at least knew what it was about, though she’d have to hide that fact from Arthur, so there was no need at all for her to feel nervous. It was perfectly normal and natural and she told herself to get a grip.

She undressed hastily and slid under the covers, hiding her nakedness. ‘Put out the light, Arthur,’ she begged, and Arthur did before getting into bed beside her. Hannah felt Arthur trembling and knowing he was as nervous as she was, she put her arms around him. ‘You are a very beautiful girl, Hannah, do you know that?’ he said and without waiting for a reply went on, ‘I feel a very fortunate man tonight.’

‘Oh Arthur …’ Embarrassed, Hannah began to protest. However, she got no further for Arthur kissed her, but not the tender, tentative kiss she’d been expecting and would have welcomed. Arthur’s kiss was like a stamp of ownership and Hannah felt her lips pushed against her teeth. And then Arthur parted her lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth till she felt she would choke and she began to thrash her head backwards and forwards.

This seemed to excite Arthur further. Panting heavily, he released Hannah and then he sat astride her, kneading her breasts savagely with his fingers, squeezing her nipples until she cried out in pain.

Arthur smiled, taking Hannah’s cries to be born of desire, and slipped one hand between her legs while the other trailed over her body.

Hannah opened her eyes that she’d kept closed in pain and saw Arthur’s face contorted with desire and she felt excitement building inside her. And yet, she felt no hardening of Arthur’s penis against her and looking down, she saw it between her legs, as soft and flaccid as when he’d begun.

Arthur caught Hannah’s eyes on him and his face flushed crimson with shame. He threw back the covers from them both and sat on the bed, his head in his hands, and began to sob.

Hannah dampened down her own frustration, for she felt sorry for Arthur and she knelt up in bed and gently put her arms around him. He raised his eyes, hardly able to believe what Hannah was doing. He felt inadequate and very ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Ssh, it doesn’t matter.’