In A Dry Season

been a good person. I’ve done terrible things. I’ve been selfish. I’ve hurt people terribly. But I want you to know one thing. This is important.”

“What?”

“Matt is the only man I have ever truly loved.”

“Not Brad?”

“Not Brad, not… Never mind.”

“What were you going to say?”

Gloria paused and looked away from me. “I told you, I’ve done terrible things. If I tell you, you must promise never to tell anyone else.”

“I promise.”

She looked at me with those blue eyes of hers. I was shocked that I hadn’t noticed the tragedy in them before. “I won’t ask you to forgive me,” she said. “You might not be able to do that. But at least hear me out.”

I nodded. She leaned back against a tree.

“When I was sixteen,” she began, “I had a baby. I didn’t love the father, not really. Oh, I suppose I was infatuated. George was a few years older than me, good-looking, popular with all the girls. I was advanced for my age and flattered by his attentions. We… well, you know all about it. We only did it once, but I didn’t know anything about… you know… then, and I got pregnant. Our families wanted us to get married. George would have done it like a shot – he said he loved me – but… I knew, I knew deep down that it would be the worst mistake of my life. I knew if I married George I would be unhappy. He loved me then, but how long would it last? He drank, like they all did down on the docks, and I really believed it was just a matter of time before he would start beating me, looking upon me as his slave. I’d seen it in my own home. My own father. I hated him. That was why I wanted so desperately to escape. I used to listen to the wireless for hours trying to learn to speak the way I thought real people spoke. If my dad caught me, he’d either laugh at me or beat me, depending on how much he’d had to drink. So I left them all.”

“Where did you go?”

“To a friend’s house. Not far away. I didn’t know anyone from outside the East End, except for my Uncle Jack in Southend, and he’d have just sent me right back home.”

“And you were with this friend when your parents were killed?”

“Yes. I was heartbroken about Joe, my little brother, but my father can rot in hell as far as I was concerned. And my mother… she was harmless, I suppose, but she did nothing to stop him. In a way she was better off dead. She didn’t have much of a life. I don’t remember ever seeing her smile.”

“But what about the baby?”

Again, Gloria paused, as if struggling for words. “I hated being pregnant. I was sick all the time. After I had Francis I got very depressed and I didn’t… I didn’t feel what they said a normal mother should. I’m ashamed to say it, but I didn’t like holding him. I felt revolted that such a thing could have come out of me. I hated my own baby, Gwen. That’s why I could never be a real mother to him or to anyone else.”

She sobbed and fell forward into my arms. I held her and comforted her as best I could. I didn’t understand; I had no idea that a mother could not love her child; I knew nothing about postnatal depression in those days. I’m not sure that anybody did. My heart felt hot and too big for my chest. Sniffling, dabbing her handkerchief to her eyes, Gloria went on, “Francis is alive. George’s sister Ivy can’t have any children of her own. They live on the canal. Her husband John’s a lockkeeper. I know he’s teetotal and I’ve met Ivy once or twice. They’re decent people, not like the others. They’d got away and bettered themselves. They said they would take care of Francis. I knew he would be better off with them.”

“What did George say?”

“He already knew that whatever there had been between us was over – though it never stopped him trying – but he couldn’t understand it when I didn’t object to giving up Francis to Ivy and John. George is a simple man. Traditional. He believes in family. He believes a mother should love her baby. Simple as that. Of course, he agreed. He could hardly bring up Francis on his own. He said I would still be the boy’s mother no matter what happened, that a boy needed a real mother to love. When I agreed without any fuss and said I didn’t mind if they kept him forever, George refused to believe me. That’s what he always did when I had one of my ‘funny turns,’ as he called them. Refused to believe me. He wasn’t a bad man, Gwen, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s me who’s bad. I think he loved his son more than I did. He wanted to be a father as much as he could. But he got called up, of course, like all the rest. Anyway, he always thought I would change my mind. He’s stubborn, the way some men are. He’s already been up to see me once with Francis. He said he still loves me, urged me to go back. I told him I was married and we had an argument. He went off. But he’ll be back, Gwen. He won’t give up that easily.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. A little. He’s got a temper, like his own father. Especially when he’s been drinking.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Say you don’t hate me, Gwen, please! I couldn’t bear it if you hated me. You’re my only real friend.”

“Of course I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if I do, either, but don’t you see that’s exactly why I can’t leave, no matter what life is like with Matt? Because of what I did before. Oh, I have plenty of excuses: I was too young; it was a mistake; I wasn’t in love; I thought I was cut out for better things. But that’s just what they are: excuses. When it came right down to it, I was selfish; I was a coward. I’m not going to be a coward again. This is my punishment, Gwen. Don’t you see? Matt is my penance.”

“I think so,” I said.

She smiled through her tears. “Good old Gwen. I’ll bet there aren’t many in Hobb’s End would give me that much credit, don’t you think? I’ve heard their tongues wagging already.” She imitated the local accent. “‘She’ll be off,’ they say. ‘Off with one of them Yanks before he’s been back ten minutes, you just mark my words.’ Well, I won’t, Gwen. Let them talk. But I won’t.”

“Are you and Brad still…?”

“Sometimes. Don’t be angry. I tried to stop seeing him when Matt first got back, I really did, but when I found out that he couldn’t… I mean… Brad brings me comfort from time to time and as long as Matt doesn’t know… To be honest, though, he’s more trouble than he’s worth right now. I just can’t keep him off the subject of running away together. It’s all getting to be too much of a strain. I told him if he didn’t stop pushing me I’d run off and leave the whole lot of you behind, him included.”

I can’t say that I approved of Gloria’s seeing Brad after Matthew had returned, but I said nothing. I only felt that way because I was being protective toward Matthew; I wasn’t a moral busybody like Betty Goodall. These were extraordinary times and Gloria was an extraordinary woman.

She laughed. “You know, I don’t know what I’d do without PX. It’s funny, isn’t it, but in times like this, when things are so grim, it’s the little things that give you a moment’s cheer. A piece of beef, a new shade of lipstick, a little whiskey, a packet of cigarettes. New stockings. He’s a gem.”

“What about Billy Joe? Have you had any more trouble from him?”

“No, not really. I saw him the other day. I got the impression he was secretly pleased that Matt had come back and spoiled things for me and Brad. He had that look in his eye, too, as if he thought he had a chance of getting me in bed again. I don’t think he gives a damn about what it’s all doing to me.”

“Well, he wouldn’t, would he? I can’t say I ever did really trust him. He’s got a nasty, violent streak, you know.”

“Billy Joe? Oh, I can handle him. He’s nothing but a big child, really.” She leaned back against the tree. “But you’re right, he can be violent. I don’t like that in a man.” She paused, averting her eyes. “Look, Gwen, I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I have to talk to someone. I’ve been having a few problems with Michael.”

“Michael? Good Lord. You don’t mean he’s-”

“Don’t be a fool, Gwen. The man’s only interested in boys. The younger, the better. No. Well, I suppose I’ll have to tell you now, but you mustn’t say a word to anyone. Promise?”

“What a day for secrets. All right, I promise.”

“Last summer and autumn, you might have noticed I spent quite a bit of time at his studio.”

“Yes.”

“Guess what?”

“He was painting you?”