The Keepsake

Henrietta watched the masculine fingers remove the cap, the springy hair beneath, her eyes fixed to the sensual bow of his mouth though barely hearing the words it uttered, whilst her own murmured vaguely, ‘What?’ Then, suddenly aware she had been holding her breath, she exhaled on a note of laughter, a happy sound that rippled his belly with its exquisiteness. ‘Oh…I haven’t the slightest idea!’ Her plan abandoned, she had forgotten all about the one she had promised to meet, indeed could not even recall what he looked like – certainly not so desirable as this green-eyed young man before her. Oh, he was lovely. Lovely! Ignoring the uniform that labelled him minion, her gaze pored over him, constantly lured back to those eyes, which promised kindness yet at the same time danger.

Marty echoed her affectionate laughter and the two stood admiring each other for a while, before she said with a smiling shrug by way of explanation, ‘I’m just desperate to escape.’

Until these words, both of them had forgotten her irate father. Misreading her companion’s hasty grab for the door-knob and his expression as one of self-concern, she prompted him, though not without a tinge of disappointment. ‘Yes, it’s unwise to let him find you here! I’m truly grateful for your assistance but I should hate for you to lose your job.’

But instead of running away as she had feared, Marty shut the door from the inside and leaned with his back to it, a triumphant twinkle in his eye. Secure that his feelings were reciprocated, his reply was gallant. ‘It’d be worth it. I’m not worried for meself, but for you.’

Her beam was so radiantly affectionate that he wanted to snatch her in his arms, to press the whole length of his body against hers. But that would have been just too brazen. Besides, enough was happening in his trousers already. If that was what she could do to him merely by looking…

He mirrored her smile then strolled over to the window, tapping his cap against his leg and appearing to take an interest in the view, though his thoughts were still consumed by the girl behind him. ‘It’s inhuman to treat anyone in such a fashion – outdated too.’ For heaven’s sake, they were four years into the twentieth century. ‘Most fathers are very particular when it comes to the one who marries their daughter,’ briefly, he pictured his own wedded sisters, ‘but they usually take account of her feelings on the matter.’

Henrietta wandered over to stand beside the tall figure, her eyes staring out across the beautifully laid-out grounds in full flower, and beyond the river to the Minster that dominated the city, its ancient pinnacles etched against a summer sky. Considering the hotel’s juxtaposition with the railway this room was very quiet. She wondered if Martin could hear the rapid thudding of her heart. ‘There my father differs, I’m afraid.’ Her face was less vibrant now, her tone hollow. ‘For he sets his entire store on my brother, John; he places no value on my opinions at all.’

Electrified by her proximity, angry on her behalf, Marty tightened his grip on the cap, whacked it against a piece of furniture. ‘Then the man’s not only cruel but blind and stupid.’ That was audacious indeed.

But Henrietta did not appear to judge it thus, merely dealing him a smile that was both sad and happy at the same time, and saying with feeling, ‘It’s the worst thing in the world to be bullied, don’t you feel? Not that someone of your physical stature would be troubled by that, of course.’

Marty bared his white teeth with a rueful chuckle. ‘You don’t know my superior.’

Dazzled by his smile, she matched it. Henrietta had never made any distinction between the ranks. Just because someone was forced to do menial work did not lower them in her estimation. ‘I suppose we all have someone above us. May one ask how old you are?’

Considering her own mature appearance, Marty added fifteen months to his age. ‘I’m twenty-one.’

She looked wistful. ‘So in all things that count you are your own man. You could walk out and find employment elsewhere, go wherever you choose. There are four more years before I come of age – not that it would matter, I should still be at that despot’s command.’

Shamed by her truthfulness, he admitted, ‘Well, as a matter of fact I’ve a few months to go yet – but it wouldn’t make a difference what age I was either, Mr Wilkinson would still dub me a shirker.’ He grinned impishly. ‘Maybe I am or I wouldn’t be up here dallying with you.’

‘Well, I’m very glad you are – here, I mean.’ Now perched on a dressing stool, her eyes having abandoned the landscape in favour of her attractive companion, Henrietta marvelled at how easily she could converse with him. ‘Tell me more about yourself.’

‘I’d hate to delay your escape.’

‘We’ve ages yet. Have you always been a boots?’

‘God forbid!’ He was delighted by the fact that she had said we, as if they were going together. ‘I’ve only been here a year or so. It was a drop in station from my last job, but I’d had that since leaving school at fourteen and was going nowhere, so I decided there was a better chance of promotion in a hotel. It’s hard to put your heart into cleaning boots but I intend to work my way up. I was joking about being a shirker by the way.’

‘Of course,’ affirmed Henrietta. ‘But you must have enjoyed your last job if you had it for five, six years?’

He was about to correct her then remembered he had already said he was nearly twenty-one and fobbed her off with a quick, ‘Thereabouts – but these are lovelier surroundings. York’s a grand place, isn’t it? I wasn’t born here ye know.’

‘I’d never have guessed.’ Her eyes teased.

‘That obvious, eh?’ Marty pretended to be crushed. ‘And here’s me thinking I’d got rid of the accent.’

‘Oh, don’t ever lose it!’ she begged him. ‘It’s so pleasant on the ear.’

‘Some folk would disagree. There’s many can’t stand the Irish.’ He paused to weigh his words before adding a confession. ‘Especially if they’re tinkers to boot. Ach, now I’ve told ye. We only came to live in a house after me grandparents died.’

‘How romantic!’

Comforted by her reaction, he chuckled. ‘Not what some would say. The insults I’ve suffered…’

Her face oozed sympathy, then she turned slightly sober. ‘Well, that’s something we share, although I doubt the insults come from your own father.’

Marty was about to make a joke but saw it was not the time. ‘I’d like to think you get on better with your mother.’

‘Hardly – well, that’s a lie, we are really quite at ease when we are permitted to be on our own. Unfortunately that’s a rare occurrence. He is always there to spoil it.’ She looked wistful. ‘The trouble is, Mother’s a very weak person. That might sound harsh, but it’s something I learned very early in life from studying the way she bent to his will, even to the detriment of her children – well, not so much John for he was Father’s favourite, but in my case…’ Henrietta moved her head slowly from side to side, then from her lips poured a torrent of information on her childhood, injustices she had suffered, her feelings on these and on her family, to which Marty listened mesmerised.

‘Far from issuing words in my defence,’ went on Henrietta, ‘Mother saw me as the defiant one, begged me to take what she saw as the easy path instead of fighting his regime. Not once have I seen her stand up to him, not even when he dismissed dear old Nanny, the person who really was more of a mother to me, who raised me from a babe…’ She scowled in memory of that awful crime. ‘It’s so long ago but his callousness infuriates me still. He said she wasn’t required any more; sent her packing without a care that some of us might love –’ Verging on tears, she broke off in mid-sentence to disguise her emotions with a giggle. ‘I can’t believe I’m confiding all this to a total stranger!’

‘You can’t?’ One lithe buttock resting on the dressing table, Marty leaned towards her and laughed even more heartily, relaxing into his normal mode of speech. ‘I can’t believe I’m eejit enough to ruin me chances with the most beautiful girl I ever met by telling her I’m from a family of tinkers.’

‘Oh, but surely they can’t be classified as such!’ Henrietta reached out quickly to press his arm, the gesture loaded with affection, before it was just as quickly withdrawn.

Wanting to grab her too, despite his enthralment Marty shrewdly divined that his comment on her beauty had gone undisputed, though there was no hint of arrogance in her manner and, as one with no belief in his own attractiveness, he envied her that.

‘You did say they live in a house these days,’ she reminded him.

‘Aye, for seven, eight years or so.’ Might he have laid the romantic gypsy thing on a bit too thick? He spoke more truthfully now. ‘I suppose we were never strictly part of that community anyway, we tended to travel alone, though I can’t deny it was the rover’s life. Back and forth twixt Ireland and Yorkshire. As a nipper ye kind o’ get sick of it, moving round different schools and the like. I was glad when Da settled for the buffer’s life.’ Rubbing the edge of the dressing table, he studied the hand that rested temptingly close to his, then exclaimed, ‘Eh, don’t let on to anyone here, will you? I’ve never told a soul – man nor woman nor beast.’

‘Then I shan’t either. But even if they still dwelt in a caravan it wouldn’t make any difference about the way I feel towards you.’ She herself saw beyond the gypsy, detected some indescribable quality of spirit.

‘Wouldn’t it?’ His green eyes shone and his question was superfluous; had he thought it would affect their miracu-lous rapport he would never have used the approach. Boldly, he grabbed her hand. ‘That’s such a relief. I just wanted you to know everything about me so’s you’re fully aware of what you’re getting into.’ It was a gross presumption but one that he was confident to make and that Henrietta would accept.

She shook her head in happy amazement, her little pearl earrings trembling. ‘It’s so strange but I feel as if I already know everything there is to know – as if we’ve been acquainted for years!’

‘I feel like that too,’ declared Marty, his eyes running over her dark tresses – the only coarse thing about her – that were swept up at the front and fastened in an elegant twist to frame pale symmetrical features. She reminded him of a ballerina in a painting he had once seen. ‘Or is it all my imagination? ’Cause I can’t for the life of me believe a girl as lovely as you could bring herself even to talk to me.’

Something flickered over Henrietta’s face. The light went out of her eyes as they retreated under dark lashes. ‘You seem to set great store by my appearance –’

Not yet realising that her mood had changed, he laughed and butted in. ‘Well, if you’ve been taking the ugly pills I can tell you they’re not working.’

But she would not look up at him. ‘– because that’s the second reference you’ve made to it.’

Taken aback at her sudden coolness, Marty cocked his head and studied her pose for a second, wondering why his intended praise had for some strange reason inflicted huge displeasure. ‘Begging your pardon, but what’s so wrong with that?’ Having sisters, he was not inexperienced in the ways of females, was aware that their moods could turn from honey to vitriol at the drop of a hat, but never had he known one who eschewed compliments.

Eyes still downcast, Henrietta picked at her satin skirt and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve just poured out my heart telling you of the lack of regard my father has for me, yet you –’ She broke off, angry and hurt at having her joy ruined so quickly.

Still frowning and totally confused as to how a remark on her beauty could be so misconstrued, Marty was desperate to make things right but did not know how. What did her father have to do with this? Then, as he continued to stare at her forlorn figure, his heart plunging from its former heights to hang like a leaden pendulum in his chest, he was suddenly granted a deeper understanding of this beautiful creature. Confident she might be in her looks, but the years of parental neglect had left Henrietta with the assumption that she was worthless for anything other than to adorn the house of some magnate, to be used as bargaining power for her father’s gain. His heart went out to her and he cupped her hand gently in both of his. ‘Of course I think you’re gorgeous, and I can’t deny that was the thing which first attracted me – but it’s not the only thing – and I don’t mean your clothes or your wealth.’

‘My father’s wealth,’ she reminded him.

‘That’s as may be, but it doesn’t count. It wouldn’t matter who or what y’are, I’d still like you…more than like.’ His voice was tenderly coaxing. ‘I thought, I hoped you felt the same.’

She forced her woebegone eyes up to meet his droopy-lidded gaze, her belly performing a somersault as she admitted in a little voice, ‘I do.’

‘And what was it attracted you?’ he asked gently.

‘Well, the way you –’ She broke off, her pink lips curling in a half-smile of self-mockery.

‘The way I look,’ provided Marty, smiling too now as he gave her hand an accusing but playful shake. ‘So it’s not just me that’s guilty, is it?’

‘No.’ Under his teasing, Henrietta melted, fighting back the tears.

‘I mean, it stands to reason that it’s a person’s physical appearance that first attracts someone, doesn’t it? Though what the devil you see in me is anyone’s guess,’ he added incredulously.

She rose then. Tapered little fingers stroked him, as did her voice. ‘I’m sorry, Martin, I didn’t mean to sound harsh or arrogant or ungrateful, it’s just that –’

‘I know,’ he told her kindly, going so far as to caress her cheek with his knuckle, wanting to go much further and pull the pins from her hair and the clothes from her body, forgetting that he should not even be there at all. ‘It might be the first thing that attracted us but we both know it goes far beyond that, don’t we?’

She nodded, blinking away the moisture of emotion. Their eyes held each other adoringly for a while, both still reeling from the impact of their meeting, trying to understand what had happened to them but unable to voice it, until the magnetic charge between them became too strong to resist and they finally pressed their lips together, tentatively at first, but quickly yielding to such fierce passion that it terrified them into breaking away, although not completely.

Marty swallowed, took a deep breath and emitted a delighted laugh. His hands gripping her waist, his eyes unable to tear themselves from hers, he pondered on their glittering depths. ‘So what now, Miss Ibbetson? Or should I say Henrietta?’

Equally ecstatic, she said, ‘I think you should, especially after that. But call me Etta, I much prefer it.’ Then she sighed and laid her head against his warm chest, leaving it there even though one of his metal buttons hurt her ear. ‘You know, I really do wish you had a caravan, then you could spirit me away.’

He rubbed his chin atop her head, breathing in her scent and smiling. ‘Ah, now don’t go making rash statements like that or I might.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘You are?’ He pushed her gently away so that he could read her face.

‘Completely! Caravan or no, I can’t wait here for Father to get back. I’m desperate to leave…but not without you. I never want to leave you, Martin, ever.’ She squeezed him tightly.

Marty let out a happy roar. ‘To think when I came to work this morning the only thing I had in mind to tackle was boots! Little did I know I’d be kissing me future wife.’

‘And I my future husband!’ Etta laughed emotionally, and they hugged again amorously.

Marty was on the verge of announcing that he would run away with her there and then, but how could he do this with no funds? He was lucky if he earned nine bob a week. He wondered if she had any money, but was not about to appear so mercenary for that would indeed ruin his case. Still wondering how to broach the subject, he was forestalled by Etta who urged excitedly, ‘Let’s leave this minute!’

‘Oh, that’d be really bright, us walking through the hotel lobby together. The manager’d be delighted.’ He grinned to show he was ribbing. ‘Isn’t it enough that you’re about to sacrifice everything, without me losing my job too?’

‘There’s nothing for me to sacrifice but wealth, and that means absolutely nothing.’

‘It might when you’ve nothing to eat. If I walk out of here I’ve lost my income. How would I support you?’

‘You could get another job! I’d help.’

‘Etta, I’d love nothing more than to run away with you right now, but one of us has to be sensible. I can’t promise to keep you in the manner to which you’re accustomed but I can at least hang on to the job I have. Now, we must think of a plan. Where are we to go? Where are we to live? I couldn’t raise enough for a month’s rent so quickly, not to mention what it’d cost even to secure the key.’

‘But you won’t allow these stumbling blocks to come between us, will you?’ she implored him with little kisses.

Marty closed his eyes in ecstasy, fighting carnal urges. ‘Do I look as if I’d give up so easily? I’m going to have to enlist help, that’s all.’

‘From your parents?’

He sobered. ‘Ah, no, I certainly couldn’t take you home just like that.’ Nor could he allow her to think this was some jolly jape. ‘It might be that your father’s not the only one who doesn’t take kindly to this. I don’t mean any insult, I’m sure Ma and Da’ll be fine once they get used to the idea of me marrying a lady – if the shock doesn’t kill them first – but I can’t just spring it on them. Besides, what kind of a man would I be if I expected my parents to look after us? No, but I have quite a few friends I can turn to.’

‘I knew you’d be popular!’ She hugged him.

‘Thanks, but nobody’s that popular when he’s asking for cash.’ He tried to clear his mind but it was difficult with her pressed so close. His eye caught the carriage clock on the bedside table. ‘God in heaven, I’ve been in here almost an hour!’ How the time had flown. ‘I’ll have to get this key back. Now, sweetheart, nice as it is we’ve got to stop all this cuddling and be practical. How long before himself returns?’

‘I should think at least another hour.’

‘Then I’ll have to make a start on our relief fund.’ He attempted to disentangle himself.

‘I have a few coins hidden!’ An adoring Etta made a grab for her portmanteau, hurling clothes right, left and centre before pressing the money into his hand. ‘Sorry there’s so little but I spent the rest on my last escapade.’

Marty accepted the few shillings with grace. ‘Never mind, this’ll be a big help, though we’ll need just a bit more.’ He gave her a quick kiss. ‘So let me go about getting it, and the moment I do I’ll be back to whisk you away.’

Overjoyed, she clung to him all the way to the door. ‘Oh, surely I must be dreaming!’

‘And I must be crazy!’ Loath to drag himself away, Marty kissed her heartily, dealt her one last adoring look, then, peeking into the corridor to check that it was clear, rushed back to his proper quarters.

On the way down, however, he encountered the pageboy, whom he knew received plenty of tips, and, without preamble, demanded excitedly, ‘Joe, me old mucker, lend us some cash. I’ll pay it back soon as I can.’

The trusting youngster fished a couple of silver threepences out of his trouser pocket. ‘No rush.’

‘Thanks, but I meant a bit more than this.’ Needing to shout it from the rooftops, Marty grinned and in an excited whisper revealed his intentions. ‘You’ll never believe this. You know the stunner? She wants me to run away with her!’

Joe gave an impassive nod and made to move on. ‘Right…sorry, Bootsie, can’t stop, that lady in room one-two-five’s just rang down to ask if I’ll go slip her a length. She can’t get enough of –’

‘I’m not codding ye!’ Marty pressed a delaying hand to his friend’s chest, hissing with bright-eyed enthusiasm, ‘We’ve really clicked. Her dad locked her in and –’

‘Oh aye, Joanna’s just been ranting on about that!’ Joe rolled his eyes in amused exasperation. ‘Proper disgruntled she was.’

‘Will you stop bloody wittering on!’ Marty displayed urgency. ‘I have to think of a way to get her out o’ here before he comes back.’

Joe laughed aloud then. ‘You soft article! A lady like her’s not really interested in the likes of us. She only spun you a line to get you to unlock the door. Joanna told u—’

‘Ach, I haven’t time to sod about!’ Marty rushed away, muttering that he had to get some money together.

Watching the other retreat, the little pageboy shook his head knowingly, dismissing Marty’s outpouring as fantasy. ‘She’ll be vanished by the time you get back!’ he called after him.

‘Don’t bet on it!’

But down in the basement Marty was to be shown equal disrespect. Having been reliably informed by Joanna, everyone was of the opinion that he had taken leave of his senses.

‘I know she’s lovely,’ said a motherly chambermaid, ‘because she asked me to do up her corsets and gave me sixpence for my troubles –’

‘Blimey, I’d’ve done ’em for nowt,’ interjected one of the boys.

‘– but I rather think she’s teasing you, dear,’ finished the maid.

‘Aye, she’s having you for a mug, Bootsie,’ sneered a waiter.

‘But will you lend us something, please, please?’ Clutching his cap to his breast, Marty dropped to his knees, shuffling in this fashion around the workers and making them all laugh.

‘Here you are then, I’m happy to bet on a certainty.’ Casually, one of the porters dropped a florin into the outstretched cap.

Others gasped at the munificent gesture. ‘Bloody hell, I’ll have some if you’re chucking it about!’

The contributor’s face creased in mockery. ‘Nah – I’ll be getting it back in ten minutes when Bootsie finds out she’s done a flit!’

Ignoring the ridicule, Marty lauded his benefactor. And as others good-naturedly followed suit he blessed these too, even knowing it was done out of jest, for they would soon be laughing on the other side of their faces.

‘Eh, we’ll look daft if he runs off to Timbuktu with her,’ joked one of the boys, nudging his neighbour.

‘We won’t be running that far.’ Marty got to his feet, looking smug.

‘She might not be but you will! When her dad comes back you’ll find yourself travelling to Timbuktu on the end of his foot.’

Marty remained smiling and chinked the coins now in his hand. ‘Mock if you will! But Etta and myself will be using this for a deposit on a home.’

Alas, this drew more than raucous guffaws.

‘What’s this infernal racket? Boots!’ Marty jumped and shoved the coins in his pocket as his superior appeared and everyone hurried about their work. ‘I might have known you’d be at the centre of it!’

‘Sorry, Mr Wilkinson.’

‘You will be! The gentleman in room one-twenty has made a complaint that his dirty shoes are still in the corridor.’

Marty retreated quickly with an apologetic bow. ‘I must have missed them, sir. I’ll go fetch them now.’

‘Jump to it, boy – and return those whilst you’re at it!’ Wilkinson pointed to a lone pair of ladies’ shoes, which Marty quickly seized.

‘Yes, sir, I’ll see to it immediately!’ The errand gave him just the excuse he needed to go upstairs again.

On the way his luck increased, for not only was he able to replace the key but he met Joe struggling under the weight of two cases and whispered urgently to him, ‘When you’ve done that will you keep watch for me? I need to know if that Ibbetson gadger comes back – he hasn’t been past already, has he?’

Joe said not that he knew of, adding that he would act as lookout so long as he was not needed. ‘You’ll get me hung, you will!’

‘Hanged!’ corrected Marty with a grin, and, thanking him, he galloped off to Etta’s room.

Yet at the point of entering he stalled – not simply because her father might be there but more because he feared his friends could be right. Had he indeed been fooling himself, caught up in the moment? What could a ravishing, wealthy young lady like her see in him? Moreover, how could he be idiot enough to expect her to give it all up?