Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bible. Show all posts

A Chain of Voices, by André Brink, Reviewed.

on Monday, December 31, 2012

What a tremendous work this is. Ostensibly a story explaining the actions of a group of slaves in South Africa in the early 19thcentury, this tale of oppression, blindness, hypocrisy, injustice, love and prejudice is a startling and moving key to the lives of all those involved in the drama.

Each character has his or her own voice, expressing emotion and action in terms that bring that person to life on the page. The book is divided into 4 parts without chapters but with each section presented through the words of one of the many individuals who make up the cast. Everyone from the lowliest slave to the most self-congratulatory owner is allowed their say. There is no bias here. The actions of each character are described through the eyes of many as well as through the words of the individual involved in those actions. This technique, whilst making for a lengthy work, ensures that a fully rounded picture of the reality is received by the reader.

I’ve never read a work of fiction in which the people are so real, so varied, so open to examination. We’re exposed to honourable men, devious people, complicated women, thieves, scoundrels, heroes, wicked hypocrites, murderers, bullies, mothers, wantons; in fact, the entire panoply of human life. We experience evil, intense goodness, anger, love, hate, lust, usage, deep and unacknowledged hypocrisy, prejudice, ignorance, sacrifice, and every other emotion that can be imagined.

The 516 pages of the edition I read are packed with incident, emotion, information; all presented in styles to suit the specific narrators, without ever making the reader feel that even the lowliest, uneducated speaker does other than express the truth as he or she is convinced is the reality. Nothing so simple as the ‘unreliable narrator’ here. Everyone has a secret, some flaws, a view that’s not always in line with actual events. But this concentration on reality has the effect of making all but the most despicable of the characters more accessible, easier to empathise with, rather than alienating the reader.

Much is made of the position of the Bible and Christian values as promoted by the Boer farmers to their pagan slaves. Regular readers will know that I’m a passionate agnostic (if that doesn’t seem too close to an oxymoron for you) and I’m aware that this must colour my reading of this aspect of the story. But it’s difficult to see how the author could have had anything in mind other than the debunking of the utter hypocrisy of these supposedly devout people. He has them spouting texts that encourage fellow-feeling whilst they beat their unfortunate slaves almost to death. The masters take the women as and when they wish and then express disgust and surprise at the relationships developing between slaves.

Scars of a whipped slave (April 2, 1863, Baton...
Scars of a whipped slave (April 2, 1863, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, USA. Original caption: "Overseer Artayou Carrier whipped me. I was two months in bed sore from the whipping. My master come after I was whipped; he discharged the overseer. The very words of poor Peter, taken as he sat for his picture." (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The position of women in this society is wound through the story as a comment on inequality, paralleling that of the slaves. But the situation of the masters, farmers, traders, is described in terms that make it easier to understand how and why they should be capable of blindness and inhumanity in a savage land badly governed by distant authority. There are echoes here of the early days of the USA, when pioneers used the Bible, very selectively of course, to justify their cruelty and self-imposed superiority over their women and slaves. That such attitudes persist in such quantity today simply illustrates the self-perpetuating nature of the type of brain-washing that closed communities impose on their offspring. The South African situation of this book is such an accurate reflection of that persisting in the USA that the astute reader is forced to conclude that it was deliberate on the part of the author.

I’d like to see this piece of powerful, truthful and instructive fiction made widely available in all lands where prejudice, ignorance and religious extremism hold sway over the population. Any reading of this story must demand a re-examination of the views held by bigots, evangelical missionaries and those who continue to believe that colour is a rightful basis for prejudice.

I could go on at length but I’d much rather you read the book and came to your own conclusions. I found myself absorbed and involved in the story throughout, never feeling apart from events but always an integral part of what the author conveys with some of the finest writing I’ve come across. I think it’s redundant to say I recommend this. But, sometimes, a statement of the bleeding obvious is a necessary emphasis.

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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 9.

on Friday, March 9, 2012

You've come this far, so you don't need me blathering on with stuff you already know. Enjoy the read.

If you missed the start, here's the link to it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Chapter 1 appeared on 13 January and following chapters appear each Friday. You can find them via the archive.

Read, enjoy, invite your friends.

Chapter 9

Wednesday 31st March

We had travelled for half an hour in uncomfortable silence.
‘Have I upset you, Leigh?’
‘I don’t say much about the way you look at work, Faith, because I know you’ve no fashion sense and clothes are just covers to you. But I thought I’d made it clear today was a bit special. I mean, that dowdy old tweed skirt, a blouse that’d look better on your grandmother and those shoes that seem to be all you ever wear. And that’s hardly an evening bag, is it?’
‘I’m sorry I’m a disappointment. Perhaps you’d better take me back home.’
‘Don’t get all injured with me. I hoped you’d make an effort, that’s all.’
‘I did what I could. I took up the hem of my skirt as far as I dare, persuaded Father to let me have a bath and washed my hair last night.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘What else could I do?’
‘Oh, come on! A bit of make up? Your best dress or skirt? A pair of new shoes? I’m sure you could…’
‘Oh, you’re sure are you? It’s easy for you, Leigh. You have a wardrobe full of clothes. Several pairs of shoes. What I’m wearing is what I have, Leigh. I can’t do better than that. Unless you’d have me travel in the stuff I wear for housework? Or naked?’
His silence unnerved me but I had said enough. The day had started badly and now I had made it worse. I wished he had never suggested the trip out.
‘I’m sorry, Faith. I just assumed that… Well, you’re a young woman, earning a decent wage. I automatically assumed you’d have new clothes and make up. What else would you spend your money on?’
‘Father doesn’t work because of his back and because he has to stay home to care for Hope. My money goes into the housekeeping.’
‘All of it?’
‘All.’
Again, he was silent. The hostility had gone but his continued silence unsettled me. From Ma and Old Hodge I had learned some of the basic social skills my father had neglected. A change of subject might help.
‘I never said before, but the lift you gave me when you asked me to come back to work was the first time I’d been in a car.’
His silence persisted for a few seconds that seemed an eternity. ‘I’m an idiot. I’ve taken on a bright, gifted, generous and hardworking assistant and I know nothing about you. It’s so easy to take things for granted. So easy to assume. Faith, I need to know something of your personal history. I need to know more about you.’
It was my turn for silence. Where to begin?
‘Begin from your earliest memory and take me as far as you like.’
‘I was very young; perhaps not even four. Father was shouting at my mother. At the time, I’d no idea what caused the argument, but now I know it must’ve been when Mother finally accepted Hope would never be any different, would always be a baby. Father won’t see it. He still believes; he has faith that she’ll somehow miraculously emerge from her silent imprisonment and start to talk and walk and laugh and cry. Of course, she never will. But that was the beginning of a change that made my mother leave and abandon me when I was six.
‘I’d had my first year at school and was doing quite well, I think. In any case, I remember Mother praised me, cuddled and kissed me for my efforts. Then, one day, I was waiting for her by the school gates and she didn’t arrive. Father came at last, with Hope in her pushchair that was too small, and took me home. I haven’t seen my mother since.’
I gazed at the curling strip of tarmac flowing quietly beneath the car, unwinding as we drove over hills and vales as foreign as a distant land. Pictures of my childhood filled my mind and I was suddenly aware that Mother took all joy and laughter with her. All the days since then were grey.
‘Don’t dream it, Faith, tell me. I can’t hear your unspoken memories.’
‘Sorry. I just discovered something very sad.’
‘Tell me.’
‘When my mother left, she took all the colour with her. Father only works in black and white, mostly black.
‘Don’t grow all lyrical and metaphysical on me. Now isn’t the time for poetry. Just tell me what happened.’
‘I went to school for one more day, but Father either wouldn’t or couldn’t take me after that. He was supposed to teach me at home. At any rate, when I was about thirteen, someone came to check and he persuaded her, with my help, that he was teaching me well enough. I’d started to learn to read before school and I was quick enough to learn the rules of language so I could read well very early.
‘There was an atlas, a history of the world, an old encyclopaedia and a dictionary in the house. Father had been through them with a thick black pen, crossing out words and paragraphs. There were entire pages missing from the encyclopaedia. There was the Bible, of course, and some books of sermons by eighteenth century clerics.’
‘You had no television, I know. Radio?’
‘Father says they’re instruments of the Devil, won’t have them in the house. Same with newspapers and magazines. I’ve seen those at Mrs Greenhough’s, of course, and I can understand why Father rejects a lot of them. All that flesh and talk of sex. It’s as if nothing else matters in the world.’
‘I know you’ve only travelled within a few miles of home, so all this is new to you?’ He waved a hand at the passing countryside with its flat fields and huge sky.
‘If I had to get out of the car now, I wouldn’t even know which way to go to get back home.’
‘Any idea how far you are from home, Faith?’
‘About ten miles?’
Leigh chuckled. ‘Sixty. Another ten and we’ll be in York. One thing you can teach me regarding local geography; you once mentioned a small tarn above your cottage. I don’t know of it. Is it far?’
I smiled secretly. ‘It’s my refuge. Small but quite deep in places. It’s where I go to be alone. I discovered it one day when Father wanted me to get some fresh air and sent me off for a few hours in the summer. Later on that same summer, it’s where I learnt to swim, almost by accident.’ I was too ashamed to tell him I had been trying to drown myself because my life was so miserable.
‘I’d like to see your tarn, Faith, like to see you swimming.’
‘I bet you would! But you’re not going to.’
‘Hey, no need to get all haughty. I’m not suggesting anything improper. Your swim suit would cover your...’
‘People don’t wear suits to swim. You’re pulling my leg again, Leigh. I’m not that daft. They’d get all wet and drag you under the water.’
‘No, really, it’s a special sort of…’ He realized the import of my words even if I did not. ‘You swim nude?’
‘Of course! Doesn’t everyone?’
‘But I thought you believed it was immoral to be naked?’
‘Only in public. I don’t wear anything in the bath or in bed, so why should I wear anything to swim? There’s never anyone about. No footpaths for walkers. And I’d hear a farmer with his dogs or tractor in plenty of time.’
‘But not a peeping tom.’
‘What’s a peeping tom?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Are there trees at the tarn, or nearby?’
‘There’s a small copse of mountain ash at the southern end, a few rocks along the western shore. Why?’
‘The farm where Merv lives with his father and brothers hugs the slopes on the other side of the hill above your cottage.’
This had nothing to do with what we were talking about. ‘I know; horrible family.’
Leigh grunted. ‘That explains that.’ He was silent for a while. ‘Apart from teaching yourself your many skills, keeping house for your father, nursing Hope and cleaning that barn your father calls a chapel, what else do you do?’
‘Read and sleep mostly; of course, I only have the books Father thinks are suitable.’
‘Does your father actually do anything at all?’
‘He has a back problem. He can’t lift anything or even walk far without pain. He hides it very well, though. Some people believe there’s nothing wrong with him, but that’s because he’s so brave and uncomplaining.’
‘Or such a good actor.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘No matter. We’ll be in York in a few minutes. After we’ve found somewhere to park, and that’ll take half a day, we’ll go for coffee and then find our new typewriter. Once that’s out the way, the rest of the day is ours to have a bit of fun, do some sightseeing, okay?’
‘Sounds exciting. Is it a very big place?’
‘You know we passed through Hawes earlier on?’
‘That big market town?’
‘That big market town is a very small market town. Think of fifty of them packed together, add a few buildings four or five storeys high and you’re getting near to the size of York. And York’s not a particularly big place.’
I shook my head and let him have his joke on me. I would discover the truth when we arrived.
‘There is one thing, Faith.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I want no argument about what I’m going to say. No refusals, no fuss. Today is a treat for you, for me as well, but mostly for you. I’m going to spend some money on you, buy you a few presents, treat you. Okay?’
‘Why?’
He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again and drove in silence for a few moments. ‘Faith, you’re extraordinary. Any other woman would’ve started suggesting things I might buy her. You just want to know why. I’m having to learn a whole new set of rules in dealing with you.’
‘You’re having to learn?’
‘Okay, fair point. Anyway, as to the “why?”, it’s quite simple. You earned me a great deal of money with your handling of those bad debtors and....’
‘I was just doing my job.’
‘Faith! I want to reward you. I want to buy you something. I want to do it, I can afford to do it, and I’m going to do it. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Mr Longshaw, sir.’
‘Good. And don’t be so cheeky.’
‘No, master.’
‘Mmm. In a couple of minutes, we’ll be on the outskirts of the city. You’ll begin to see what I mean about the size of the place. Do I have your word that you won’t argue about the presents I want to buy you?’
‘What will you expect in exchange?’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry, Leigh. It’s just that Father said I…’
‘Your bloody father’s got a lot to answer for. And he’s wrong. Not all of us expect to be paid with sex for presents. Not all men expect a girl to whip her knickers off for the price of a dress or a piece of jewellery. Some men like to give women presents because they like to give women presents. I like to give women presents. I expect and require nothing in return. Not even your gratitude. Do I make myself clear?’
‘I keep making you angry and disappointed. I’m sorry. There’s so much I don’t know and almost everything I do know has come from Father. His views differ so much from those of most other people. Thank you for your offer, Leigh. I accept gladly and I’ll try my best not to embarrass you.’
Leigh took his hand from the steering wheel, found mine and squeezed it gently. ‘Thank you. I’ll try to remember you’re an innocent with a fanatical puritan hypocrite for a father. Here comes York.’
We were travelling in a long queue of traffic. Leigh had called Father a hypocrite and I worried about that for a moment, especially when I remembered Mrs Greenhough had said the same thing. But then the volume of traffic and the buildings took my attention instead. In fact, there were more cars visible from my seat than I had ever seen in the space of a single day before. And houses lined both sides of the street; a street that seemed to go on forever. Where did all those people go when they wanted to be alone?
There were so many people on bicycles; so many people on foot. Men with beards and flared colourful trousers, men wearing shorts and coloured vests, women with skirts as short as Abby’s, some even shorter, some a lot longer, women with bare shoulders and necklines that made their breasts obvious. People in all sorts of clothes, people with different coloured skins, people of all shapes and sizes. And a huge stone wall with an arched gateway and towers. And so many shops I could not count them. It was amazing, exciting, frightening, fascinating, wonderful, alarming, incredible.
We drove into an open space that seemed big enough to hold my entire village and Leigh parked the car amongst hundreds of other cars in an area that seemed to exist only for that purpose. He switched off the engine and laughed at me. ‘Close your mouth, Faith, you’ll catch flies.’
‘It’s… everything’s so… I’ve never seen so many… I feel so small and … there’s so much to look at and…’
‘I thought it might be a little overwhelming for you. But you’re bright and brave and I’m sure you’ll cope. Don’t stare and gape, especially at people; they’re not so tolerant of innocence in cities. Country folk are a lot more accommodating of strangeness, rather oddly. I’ll answer any question you want to ask. And, please, do ask. Don’t be afraid or embarrassed. I’d much rather you asked than made an idiot of yourself.’
‘Or of you.’
‘True. But it’s you I’m most concerned about. Right. Stay in the car whilst I get the ticket.’
‘I want to come with you, Leigh. I want to see. I want to see everything.’

###

You've come this far, so it's unlikely you'll stop now. But, just in case you get impatient waiting, you know where to buy the book.


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Faith Introduces Herself to Readers

on Thursday, February 16, 2012

Stuart's asked me to give you some insight into how I think, what matters to me, why I'm the person I am. Let me introduce myself. I'm Faith Heacham and I narrated the story of Breaking Faith along with Leigh. I hope that some of my rather strange background came through that narrative but there will be elements that you will either not know or be unfamiliar with, of course.
When I first started to work for Leigh, I was still imbued with my father's rather strange brand of Christianity and I was determined to develop Leigh's conscience and convert him into a devout follower of my religion. I don't tell you a lot about that aspect in the book, because I didn't want to come across as too evangelical. As it happened, I quickly learned that Heacham was in the wrong and that Leigh, for all his unusual and, dare I say, unconventional ways, was often in the right.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me set the scene. I was brought up for the first few years as part of a small family with my mother, and two younger sisters as well as Heacham. I'm sorry, I can't refer to him as my father knowing what I do now. He was, to me, relatively normal and although he was always a very strict parent, he seemed no more odd or different than any other parent, until Mother left him and took my youngest sister, Charity, with her. It was then that I certainly noticed changes in my life. I was very young but I was expected to take over most of the duties my mother had carried out.
Heacham was a man who gave the impression of being pious. It was only later I learned how truly awful he was, not only as a father but as a man. However, I was placed in a position where I was required to look after him domestically as well as nurse my severely disabled sister, Hope. She, of course, had no hope of ever becoming anything other than a baby in a woman's body. But I didn't know that until I was a lot older. My life was difficult and restricted, as I was no longer allowed to attend the local school but was taught by Heacham. His teaching took the form of indoctrination with his peculiar form of narrow-minded Christianity taken from the Bible and some books of sermons by a rather extreme clergyman. I was allowed an atlas, and a dictionary and two volume encyclopaedia, both of which he censored for all sexual matters apart from the purely biological aspects. We had no television, no radio and he would allow no magazines or newspapers in the house. Living in an isolated cottage well out of the small Dales village, I had virtually no contact with children or with other adults. This obviously left me with a very odd view of the world. But I was a quick learner and loved to read. As a result, I picked up a wide vocabulary and a knowledge of many things that most people never come across.
For exercise, I did the housework, kept Hope free of bedsores by massaging and manipulating her limbs and body, walked the local hills and swam in the isolated tarn up the hill from our cottage. I loved the freedom of those few hours, away from home and father's constant watchfulness. I would strip to my skin and plunge into the freezing clear water and splash about until I was thoroughly tired. By the time I returned home, my clothes had mostly dried on my body. Not that it mattered, since Heacham required me to work in the house wearing the bare minimum of cover. He told me it was to save my clothes from becoming stained and dirty. I know now that it was to afford him a sexual thrill of both watching me and controlling me in a state of more or less permanent exposure.
He indoctrinated me to believe that most men and women were inherently evil and would eventually spend eternity in the fires of Hell. If I erred, even slightly, he would beat me with his hand, a cane or his belt, always on my naked skin. He told me he was saving my soul and I believed him. We prayed together every morning and each evening before bed. He attended some old barn that he and a few other men with similar views had converted into their meeting place, which he called their chapel.
When I first started to work with Leigh and discovered his free-thinking ideas and his openness toward nudity and sex, I thought he must be the most wicked man alive. His models were all beautiful and showed no shame or shyness in displaying their entire bodies for his camera. I was initially incensed and later intrigued. But, though Leigh gave all the appearance to my uneducated mind of being a wicked heathen, I quickly learned that he was a kind, warm, generous and basically good man. I suppose it was inevitable that I would fall in love with him, as the only other mature male I had any contact with. Apart, that is, from his printing assistant, Mervin. He was the embodiment of true evil in my eyes. A crude, ugly, cruel and utterly selfish monster of a man.
If you've read the book, you'll know how I came to change and what those changes involved for me and those I came into contact with. If you haven't read it yet, I can only point you in the direction of this blog, where Stuart's posting the whole book for you to read, free of charge, a chapter at a time. I hope you get as much out of reading my story as I did from telling it from my point of view and learning Leigh's view of things along the journey.

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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 5.

on Friday, February 10, 2012

Breaking Faith is published as a paperback and an ebook. I'm posting individual chapters here, each week, so that anyone who wishes can read the book in full and free of charge.





I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January, following chapters appear each Friday and can be found via the archive.

Read, enjoy, invite your friends.

Chapter 5

Friday 12th March

‘Can’t understand it, Old Hodge; lass ‘as been eating my dinners for a month or more and she’s not put an ounce on. If owt, she’s getting thinner.’
Old Hodge looked up from his steaming mug of tea and assessed me before he turned to her and replied. ‘Ma, for a wise old woman, you’re lacking in summat if you can’t see what’s blindingly obvious.’
She said nothing, knowing he would explain.
‘Where’s this lovely lass live?’
Ma nodded. ‘‘Course, every day she walks four mile here and four mile back across them fields and fells.’
Nothing much had changed in the weeks since that first night. My routine at home was just the same but, since starting work at Longhouse, I was happier than I had ever been, in spite of the tiredness.
I came out of my reverie to find Old Hodge and Ma looking at me as if they expected me to say something.
‘Your father has your supper ready when you get home, o’course?’ Ma’s question was phrased in such a way I could not tell whether she was being sarcastic.
‘Oh aye, bound to, a good Christian gentleman like ‘im. He’ll like as not have a nice warm bath ready and your slippers warming by the fire.’ Old Hodge, however, made it patently obvious by his tone what he thought of Father.
‘And there’ll be no question of you nursing that lump o’ dead meat that’s your sister.’
‘Leave Hope out of this, both of you.’
‘Am I daft, Old Hodge, that I never thought on it?’
‘Nay, Ma. Soft in t’ead, perhaps, but I’d not go as far as daft.’
‘You’re a comfort and no mistake.’
I took the mug of tea Ma offered me and dunked a chocolate digestive in it. ‘The way that terrible old man insults you, Ma.’
‘I know. Things you ‘ave to put up with when you’re married.’
‘Perhaps you should leave him?’
‘He’d only starve without me. That, or more likely find some pretty young wench willing to share his bed and send him on his way before his time.’
I smiled through my blush. The colour deepened when Old Hodge leant forward and whispered in my ear, loud enough for Ma to hear. ‘You’d teck care on a wise old man, Faith, wouldn’t you? You’d not let me pine away for lack of affection, I know.’
I had changed so much in those weeks that I laughed and pushed him softly away with my palm over his face. ‘You’re wicked, Old Hodge. You’ll never get to Heaven.’
‘Happen I’m not off there anyroad. T’other place sounds warmer and more interestin’. All them ‘arps an’ singing’s not for me.’
‘Old Hodge!’ I almost quoted the Bible at him but stopped myself: things that were Father’s entire life impressed no one at Longhouse.
‘You go too far! Faith’s still got beliefs, even if you haven’t. Wicked man. Finish that tea and get back outdoors to that garden where you belong.’
Old Hodge grinned at his wife and winked at me. Unable to condemn him, I responded with a rueful smile.
‘Look, that’s no good at all, Faith. How am I supposed to keep him under control if you undermine all my efforts?’
‘Him, under control?’
We turned at Abby’s remark. She had come in unnoticed and smiled at our surprise. ‘Old Hodge has only ever been controlled by Old Hodge. And always will be.’
The old man made a great play of crossing to where Abby waited. They embraced in a way that made me turn away, scandalized.
Ma laughed delightedly at them, however. ‘That’ll cost you tonight, Old Hodge. And if you think you’re getting a cuppa after that, you brazen hussy, you can think again.’
They parted and pretended shame until Ma gave in.
‘Get out to your flowers and trees, you wicked old man.’ And she poured a cup of tea for Abby.
‘Any idea when Leigh’s due back?’ Abby sat beside me at the scrubbed kitchen table and stretched long legs out of pink hot-pants onto a spare chair. Old Hodge made a great play of sneaking a look at her shapely limbs, whistled in admiration and then ducked out through the utility room before Ma could chuck her last bit of biscuit at him.
‘He expected to finish at the factory about two, so he’d be due back about half an hour ago, but he said he might drop into Jessop’s on the way back for some film.’
‘I thought it was your job to order stock? Why’s he having to go into a shop?’
‘It was something we don’t normally keep.’
‘And he has to have it in such a hurry that he thinks it’s all right to be late back for my session?’
‘As far as I know, Abby, it’s for your session.
She managed to flounce without standing. ‘He’ll be late and then we won’t have time to do everything.’
‘I shouldn’t worry, I’m sure Leigh’ll give you all the attention you want, both in front of the camera and afterwards.’
‘Not jealous, are we?’
‘Of course I’m not jealous!’ But I felt my colour rise and I wondered why.
‘He’s not going to ask you to pose for him, or screw you, till you’ve got some meat on your bones, sweetie. If you want Leigh to notice you, and you do, you’ll have to develop some curves to show you’re a woman. He’s not going to notice a bag of bones in dead women’s cast-offs.’
‘That’s enough, Abby. You know Faith’s no …’
‘It’s all right, Ma. I don’t care about the opinion of a … a tart like her.’
‘Tart, fart. Your problem, sweetie, is your fanny’s too tight.’
‘Rather that than be open to any man willing to expose his penis.’ I had recently learned the word, after asking Leigh when I was trying to describe something Mervin had done to upset me. I had to ask Leigh because Father had censored my encyclopaedia and dictionary.
Abby cringed for an instant. ‘Cow! I’m not sleeping with anyone but Leigh, and you know it.’
‘For now. But I saw you with that rep the other day. I wonder how long he’d have kept his trousers on if Leigh hadn’t been home.’
‘Bitch! At least I know what mine’s for. You want to get with it, Fay. You’re so square you’d slot into a cardboard box.’
‘Just because you’ve burnt your bra and allow your breasts their freedom, Abby, it doesn’t mean your mind’s liberated.’ I was learning more every day by reading Leigh’s newspaper and listening to the radio in the kitchen. Two new and fascinating experiences.
‘At least my bra’s worth setting on fire. Yours wouldn’t warm a saucer of milk for the cat, even if you piled them all up and set fire to the lot. I’ve got tits. See? These are tits, Fay. All you’ve got is a pair of advanced boils. Tits look like this.’
‘And very nice they are, too. But I’m not sure Faith’s impressed.’
We turned at Leigh’s words, Ma shaking her head in despair, me just grateful for somewhere to look after Abby’s display. But Abby simply untucked the rest of her blouse and whipped it off, the better to show Leigh.
‘Lovely. But you might like to ditch the hot pants if we’re having a full on shoot. You know I can’t have marks on your skin.’
Abby stripped quickly and checked for impressions left by her clothes. A faint dimpled line circled her hips, marking the place where the hot pants had made contact. She wore nothing else, so there were no other marks on her perfect skin. ‘It’ll soon go.’
Ma humphed at her and turned to Leigh. ‘Have you eaten, Lad?’
‘I’m fine, Ma. Grabbed a bite in the Directors’ canteen. They like to call it their restaurant but it’s nowt more than a glorified canteen. Food’s not a patch on yours, but not too bad for a factory.’
‘How did the job go, Leigh?’
‘Fine, thanks. Take the films up for Merv, will you, and tell him I need the proofs by tomorrow afternoon, so he’d best get them deved now.’
Being, as Leigh put it, out in the sticks, he had to show he was up to speed with everything so he tended to do jobs in less time than most of his competitors. It seemed to work; most of the businesses came back for more once Leigh had done a job for them, anyway.
I left the kitchen for the office, grateful to get away from Abby’s display but reluctant to visit Merv’s den. I opened the aluminium case on Leigh’s desk and took the films from the compartment. Poking my head round the kitchen door, I found Abby wrapped around Leigh as Ma made a fresh pot of tea. ‘Not left a part film in the ‘Blad, have you, Leigh?’
‘Do I ever? Should be five, love.’
I left for the studio, my lips tight and my body still set with anger at Abby’s words and actions. Empty and silent, the huge room continued to impress me. With no sun, soft grey skylight filtered through the windows. I wheeled a standard spot from the centre of the floor to the wall, its small rubber wheels rumbling along the wooden boards. I was determined to keep the place tidy.
In the darkroom, Merv was at the enlarger, masking a shot of a hand holding a spanner. I could now recognize such things in negatives. The shot was for the cover of a tool catalogue Leigh was doing for a manufacturer in a city to the south.
‘What you want, Stick?’
At least he no longer habitually used that other word for me. I could put up with his insulting nickname. I put the films on the dry bench. ‘Leigh wants you to dev these today and print them ready for tomorrow afternoon.’
‘An’ I want to shove this up you, but you’re scared of it, aren’t you, Stick?’
The gloom of the orange safety lamp hid my outrage. He liked to make me blush. In spite of myself, my eyes wandered to the object of his insult, its head barely peeping from the fist he had curled round it.
The first time he had shown me it, I had been shocked. Later I had seen Leigh without his clothes for the first time. I found Leigh as fascinating as Mervyn was repulsive and wondered why I should feel this difference.
‘Staring, eh? Interested? Must want it up.’
His insinuation inflamed my annoyance more because his words highlighted my guilty contemplation of Leigh than because of what he said.
‘Leigh warned you not to talk to me like…’
‘You tell ‘im an’ I’ll fuck you till you split and bleed…’
‘I tell him, Mervyn and you’re out of work. Think about that.’ And I left before either of us could say more.
Churning over the experience and frightened and disgusted by his threat to hurt me in that way, I went down the ladder to the studio floor, arriving just as Leigh entered with Abby. I could not avoid the comparison: Leigh was larger, limp, than Mervyn, erect. I looked up into Leigh’s face and raised my eyebrows in question, not really wanting to be there whilst the pair of them cavorted in their skins. I still found Leigh’s nakedness in the studio disturbing and embarrassing, even though it was Abby who demanded it.
‘Just whilst we get set up. Once you’ve helped me arrange the lighting and background, you can run off back to the safety of the office.’ He said it with a hint of condescension that had me bristling.
Tight lipped, angry because of Mervyn’s threat, Abby’s scathing display and Leigh’s implied criticism, I pulled spots, floods and reflectors away from the walls into the centre of the room. I dropped the white background paper down, pulling it along to the foot of the tripod and folding the soiled section underneath. The small mat and stool I plonked close to the edge. Abby sat on the stool and imperiously held out her hand for a towel to wipe dust from the soles of her feet before she stepped onto the pristine surface.
Leigh set up the Hasselblad and took the light meter from his case, before he, too, wiped his feet and walked up to Abby.
I watched her pose, thrusting her hips forwards in an effort to reach his as he stood before her. ‘Am I lighting you for pornography or are you going to skip the photography and go straight to the sex?’ I don’t know what made me say it.
Abby gasped and stood up straight. Leigh turned slowly to face me. I knew I had upset him, but I was angry and I felt confused by some emotion inside me that I could not identify but that made me resent Abby’s behaviour with Leigh. Her comment about jealousy still rankled and that made me angrier with her and myself.
‘The issue of sex is between Abby and I. As for pornography, you know I don’t hold with it.’
I recognized the warning in his voice but I was boiling inside with feelings repressed for too long. ‘I wonder why you engage in it so often, if you dislike it so much.’
Abby watched with her hands clutched together and her mouth agape. Leigh gripped the light meter tightly and shook it at me. ‘I don’t know what this is about, Faith, but I advise you to cut it out.’
‘Advise away. It won’t alter the fact that you take pornographic pictures and try to pass them off as something you call art. Anyone with half an eye can see it’s just an excuse to get women to take off their clothes in front of you and make promises with their bodies. Art! It’s sex. That’s all it is. Sex.’
‘There’s nowt wrong with sex. But what I do with my camera isn’t connected with sex in that way. My pictures of women celebrate their beauty.’
His measured tone should have warned me. This mood was a step away from temper. But I had to say what had been building in me for weeks as I learned more facts and more language than I had ever encountered under Father’s narrow tutelage. ‘Celebration? Women showing all they’ve got to all and sundry? It’s exploitation and you know it. No matter how you wrap it up, no matter how you describe it, Leigh, it all comes down to pornography in the end. I just wish you’d be more honest about it, that’s all.’
Leigh must have been doubly insulted, hearing his own words re-arranged and thrown back at him by the pupil he had so recently tried to teach about art and morality.
Abby was almost as cross as Leigh but remained sensibly dumb. Leigh took a step forward and stopped, his control plain in the tense muscles of his whole body. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘If you feel like that, Faith, you’d better leave now. Go!’
‘With pleasure.’ I turned and strode from the studio, my footsteps echoing and hollow. At the door I turned. ‘Will you post my P45 or should I come back for it?’
‘I’ll post the bloody thing, if that’s how you feel.’
I glared at him for a long moment before I turned away. In the office, I gathered my things together, put on my coat and shoes and left at once. I did not tidy up, fearing Leigh might come in and say something else.
Even before I reached the gate, I wondered if he had really meant I was sacked. Had he just expected me to leave the studio? It was too late now. It was done.
I set off down the damp cold lane for the cottage, to face scorn, anger and the well-deserved shame and pain of punishment from Father for losing my job by voicing my own ill-informed opinions.


###

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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 3.

on Friday, January 27, 2012

Breaking Faith was first published as a paperback 3 years ago and, on 24 October 2010, I published it as an ebook through Smashwords and on Amazon Kindle. I'm now posting individual chapters here on the blog, so that anyone who wishes can read the book in full and free of charge.

The Prologue, which begins the novel, was posted on 6 January. Here's a link, if you missed it: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html.
Chapter 1 was posted on 13 January and the link can be found in the archive. (Subsequent chapters are posted each Friday and can be accessed via the archive).

Read, enjoy, tell your friends.

Just a bit of guidance, since you'll have read the previous chapter a week ago. The book is written from the viewpoints of the two main protagonists and each chapter is narrated in either Leigh or Faith's voice, in the first person. The viewpoints alternate, but sometimes one character will tell the tale over a couple of consecutive chapters.

Chapter 3

Faith’s unexpected conversational skills and sense of humour were not the only surprises she sprung, once she recovered from her faint. She picked up my dislike of Biblical quotations and allusions straight away and stopped using them, which was just as well, considering my views.
I found a well-organized, able and clever young woman, with a contradictory set of ideas and values and the most eclectic range of knowledge I’d ever come across. I was intrigued. I had nothing to lose by giving her a trial. But it was only fair to let her meet Merv before either of us made a decision.
She accompanied me from the office, through the small waiting area, where occasional reps and clients sat in ancient, leather, easy chairs and gazed at life-sized monochromes of women on the walls. Faith avoided the flesh but admired the smaller landscapes and sighed with audible relief when I led her into the studio.
The snow had stopped and early afternoon sun was sending shafts of light through the high windows to fall in dazzling rhomboids at the base of the far wall. Specks of dust, floating in the silent beams, leant the large space a cathedral quality.
She seemed entranced; though whether by the scale of the room, the atmosphere or the assorted equipment, I could only guess. I let her stand and stare at a sight I knew well. ‘Impressive, isn’t it? I spend so much time in here, I forget how strange it must appear.’
‘It’s wonderful; amazing.’ Her enthusiasm was genuine.
‘Used to be two storeys; hay barn above, animal quarters below. They built these longhouses to provide living space for the farmer’s family and animals all in one building. It was built in the sixteen seventies. Uncle Fred and I completed most of the work a year or so before he died. The old coach house at the end is now a garage on the ground floor with the darkroom above. That’s where I’m taking you.’
‘Is this where you work, Leigh?’
‘A lot of the time. The small items I do in here but the larger stuff’s done on site. I do mostly catalogue work in here; light industrial, tools and fastenings, things like that. Some portraiture and a bit of formal work with models. But I prefer to work in situ with the girls when I can.’
‘I noticed.’
The tone of her voice spoke volumes. I’d seen embarrassment and censure cloud her features as she looked at the work on display in the office and waiting room. Strangely, the print of the Velazquez Rokeby Venus, behind my desk, didn’t appear to unsettle her as much as my photographs. Perhaps because it wasn’t frontal, or because it was a painting, she found it less threatening.
‘If I decide to take you on, Faith, you’ll be spending some of your time around models, often topless, sometimes nude. How do you feel about that?’
She fixed me with a determined stare. ‘As long as I don’t have to take off my clothes, I’ll manage.’
I looked at her ragbag collection of hand-me-downs: brown tweed skirt to the ankles, long-sleeved, heavy cotton blouse in dingy white with appliquéd lace, hand-knitted brown cardigan with darned elbows and fraying cuffs. And, judging by the lines, she was wearing a heavy bra at least two sizes too big. I wondered what her knickers would be like: straight from the school gym? I hadn’t seen a young woman so badly dressed. Hardly the glamourpuss I was seeking. Maybe exposure to me and the girls would educate her tastes and show her the possibilities. She had potential as far as face and figure were concerned. A bit of weight, makeup, hair set free from its constricting band, limbs allowed to feel the air, and she could be a different and very attractive woman.
‘You can be as covered or uncovered as you like, though I do sometimes take off my clothes when I’m working with a model.’
‘All of them?’
I nodded.
‘Why?’ Her question was condemnatory.
‘Sex, a lot of the time. But a naked girl feels vulnerable in lots of ways. Not least, there’s the temperature. It’s easy, when you’re sweating under the lights in jeans and polo neck, to forget how cool it can be in your skin. I try to develop empathy with my models and being naked helps that.’
‘Don’t they mind?’
‘I wouldn’t do it if they did. In fact, some of them demand it. I never expect or ask anyone to do anything against their will, Faith. That’s one reason I’m making the situation clear to you now, so you know what you’re getting into. I’m not about to change my way of working just to avoid embarrassing you. Nudity is pleasure and delight for me. You find it disturbing or threatening and I sort of understand that; it’s depressingly common, but it’s your problem, not mine. If you find it unacceptable, we might as well close this interview right now.’
She crossed the space between us until she was looking up into my face with a challenging expression I found disconcerting. ‘You said yourself I’m not the idiot people think, Leighton Longshaw. But you don’t know that I’m also professional. I hate the idea of public nakedness. Your unclothed body might embarrass or offend me; I don’t know: I’ve never seen a naked man. Your behaviour is sinful and it’ll send you to Hell for eternity. But, if you employ me to work with naked women, or men, I’ll carry out my duties as required. My feelings and beliefs are my own and have nothing to do with you or the job.’
‘Are you always so truthful?’
‘I try to be. Life would be so much better if everybody was honest all the time, don’t you think?’
‘It’d be intolerable. But what matters is whether you can work in the conditions I’ve described.’
‘I thought I just said I can.’
I looked down into her face and saw truth shining in her eyes; her wide-set, large and very dark, brown eyes that stared at me so directly. Looking into those eyes, I saw potential for passion. I also saw her vulnerability and unique quality and I wanted to know her better; to know her well.
I needed to lighten the mood. ‘Do your eyes bother you?’
She frowned. ‘No. Why?’
‘They bother me.’ I laughed shortly, as much at my mistake in using an inappropriate line, as at her incomprehension. ‘Come on; let’s see what you make of Merv the Perv.’
‘Mervyn Tupper?’
‘Know him?’
‘He’s a neighbour, of sorts. I’d heard he worked for you. I hoped it wasn’t true.’
‘What do you know of him?’
‘Like most in the village, he’s called me names. But, really, only what I’ve heard about him from others.’
‘Reputation, then?’
‘And we both know how false that can be. Maybe he’ll surprise me.’
‘Prepare to be shocked.’ I led the way to the end of the studio and the foot of the vertical ladder. ‘Not pleasantly.’
I shinned up, aware she might worry I was looking up her skirt, an impossible feat, if I followed her. On the metal landing, I waited for her before opening the door into the suite of small rooms that served as printing, storage and finishing area.
I studied her as she watched the glazing drum turn slowly, its mirrored chromium cylinder reflecting the fluorescent tubes and the blue-white daylight streaming through the windows.
‘It’s very warm and there’s an odd smell. Would I work up here?’
‘Eventually; I’d want you to do most of the print finishing… drying, glazing, trimming and mounting. It’s all done in here. Merv’s kingdom is the darkroom.’ I indicated the blank white door with its bulbs mounted above. ‘When the red light’s on, you can’t go in. It means Merv’s loading film into tanks for processing. Stray light would fog the film and ruin it.’ I explained the light-trap and gave quick descriptions of the other equipment in the room until the red light went out and a green bulb shone. ‘That means Merv’s put the darkroom lights on; we can go in now.’
‘Why not just one bulb?’
I was pleased she was analysing; it showed promise. ‘The bulb might’ve blown. The green light’s insurance.’
I went through the light trap, closing the door behind me before I could open the one into the darkroom. Merv was working by white light, pouring developer from a glass measuring cylinder into a tall, stainless steel, processing tank on the wet bench. ‘You’ve got a visitor.’
Faith entered, blinked with surprise at the brightness of the white room and turned quickly away from the wall facing her. Dozens of women, cut from the pages of porno magazines, displayed obscenely behind Merv. It was his realm and I chose not to impose my own standards on the way he decorated it, much as I disliked his preferences.
‘Faith Heacham; Mervyn Tupper.’
Faith, good as her promise to give him a chance, extended her hand. He leered unpleasantly, stripping her with his eyes as he briefly touched hers. I tapped his arm and caught his eye with a warning that stopped him moving too far into vulgarity.
‘Yeah.’
‘How do you do?’
‘Fu… great, given the chance. You?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
‘Talks, then? Never thought it could.’
Faith failed to recognize this as a reference to her and, unfamiliar with small talk, remained silent.
‘I’m considering offering Faith the position of Girl Friday, Merv. Do you think you could work with her?’
‘Any position it takes, I’ll go along with.’
‘And you, Faith, how do you feel about working with Merv?’
‘I don’t understand everything he says, but he seems less… coarse than I’d heard. I’m willing to try, as long as I don’t have to work under those… those pictures.’
‘Good. Good. Right, we’d best leave him to it; don’t want him ruining the films by forgetting to agitate the developer, do we?’
Merv immediately lifted the metal tank and upended it five times in quick succession before replacing it on the bench. I indicated that Faith should leave the room again. She was barely out of the door before I turned to Merv. ‘Well done, Merv. Think you can manage to remain as polite if she comes to work here?’
‘Once it gets its tight little bum under the desk I’ll ‘ave to tease it. It’s too thin. Keeps its curlies short and tidy though. You can see right through ‘em to its…’
‘Thank you for that, Merv. That order ready to go?’
‘Final rinse. ‘Ave ‘em on the dryer in a mo.’
‘Right. I’ll be up for them in half an hour.’
‘It’ll never let you, Leigh. Dunno why you’re botherin’.’
I found Faith blushing on the other side of the light trap. ‘He says some very strange things. Was he talking about me?’
‘All talk is Merv. Doesn’t mean anything by it, you know.’
‘He can’t possibly know what I look like.’
‘Guessing. Wishful thinking. Just guessing, that’s all. Shall we go back?’
I paced the office and Faith studied the local landscapes of the Dales I’d displayed on the walls in the hope that tourists might drop in to buy them.
‘Like them?’
‘They’re beautiful. I didn’t know you could do that with photography. It’s beautiful countryside. I recognise this one, but where were the others taken?’
I thought she was pulling my leg until I saw the genuine question on her face. They were all local, none more than a dozen miles from Longhouse.
Ma brought fresh coffee in before I had the opportunity to answer properly. Old Hodge poked his face around the door and saw Faith. He smiled at her and lifted his cap in greeting. She gave him a little nod of acknowledgement and smiled back. Everybody liked Old Hodge.
After Ma had placed the tray, she tested the white socks by the fire and found them dry at last. ‘You never took the lass traipsing into that cold studio with nowt on her feet, Leigh?’
I hadn’t noticed, and she’d said nothing. I found myself apologising for my thoughtlessness.
‘I had nothing to put on my feet and you wanted me to see the rest of the work place. I wanted to see it. I’m used to cold feet.’
‘See, Ma, she’s perfect. No complaints, no fuss. Just what I need.’
‘Taking her on, then?’
Faith’s eyes followed me as I moved to my desk and sat down in the leather chair, still trying to make up my mind.
The door from the hall opened and Abby stepped in, pink along one side from the hearthrug. I saw Faith close down her emerging look of surprised disapproval and turn it into polite indifference.
Abby glanced round the room. ‘Sorry. Thought you’d be done by now. Just wanted my wrap.’
It lay on the floor near my desk, where Ma had kicked it after Abby had discarded it for our earlier session. Her briefs lay at my feet, out of sight. Faith picked up the wrap, shook out the dust and creases and took it to the fire to warm for a few moments.
No one spoke.
She turned and held the gown, helping Abby into it. ‘Does the hair around your genitalia grow that short naturally or do you trim it?’ She sat down with no sign of a blush and gave me a look that spoke volumes.
Abby flicked her long tresses back over her shoulders and laughed a little uncertainly. ‘I …er wax and trim it, sweetie … But what an odd question to ask in mixed company.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know I shouldn’t…’ And this time she blushed.
‘It’s okay, sweetie. No one’s died.’ She perched on the edge of my desk and looked at Faith speculatively before twisting to face me. ‘Prettier than I expected but a bit on the thin side for you, I’d have thought. Taking her on?’
I’d almost made up my mind before Abby had come in. Faith’s demonstration of the professional attitude she’d described in the studio was enough to clinch it, in spite of that strangely personal question. ‘If she wants the job. What do you say, Faith?’
Her whole body relaxed and relief took the frown from her face. ‘Thank you. Thank you, very much, Leigh. I can start now, if you like.’
‘Now? I thought you had a job at the Dairy? You’ll have to give notice, surely?’
‘They’ll not want me to work notice after what I did this morning. No, I can start straight away, if that’s all right for you?’
She had no idea of the significance of her throw away admission. Abby and Ma exchanged curious glances.
‘What, exactly, did you do this morning, Faith?’ My tone alerted her to the seriousness of her comment. She was suddenly confused and unable to collect her thoughts. I wondered if I’d misjudged her or even been misled. ‘Out with it. Let’s have some of this famous honesty.’
Still she was reluctant to speak and I began to grow impatient. Ma stepped in to the rescue. ‘We’re not sitting in judgement, love. Just curious.’
She glanced at each of us in turn, fear and uncertainty distorting her pretty face. When she brought her eyes back to mine, I nodded and tried to take the suspicion from my features.
‘Tell us in your own words.’
She literally took a deep breath, as if about to plunge into cold water. ‘I told you Father got me the job at the Dairy?’
‘Working for one of his cronies… friends, yes.’
‘I’d worked there a few weeks when Mr Furnswurth asked me to move out of the general office and be his personal secretary. He’s a… a horrible man. The other women talked about his wandering hands and the way his eyes undress you. He looked at me like Mervyn did.’
‘Some men routinely undress women with their eyes. I find their attitude appalling. I know Furnswurth and he’s just the type. All outward respectability but seething with sexual repression.’
She considered that for a moment. ‘His office has a wall of shelves from floor to ceiling and steps so you can reach the top. Some of the women told me he sits at his desk and looks up their skirts when they get files from the top or bottom shelves. He couldn’t do that with me, of course. My skirt’s a decent length.’
She must have guessed my intention to try to change that because she stared at me sternly. ‘And always will be, in case you’re thinking any different.’
Her insight was vaguely unnerving after such brief acquaintance.
‘How you dress is up to you, Faith. Most men these days prefer the mini or micro, but the maxi’s fine, especially in a flowing fabric. Can’t say I’m a lover of your old lady’s tweeds but… up to you. You were telling us about Furnswurth…’
She let my criticism go but she’d have something to say should I raise the subject again. ‘He asked for one of the files on the top shelf. I was looking for it when he came and stood below me, pretending to help me look. Before I knew what was happening, he put his hand up my skirt.’
‘The man needs seeing to.’
She gave me the briefest of troubled smiles, for my support, I suppose. ‘I couldn’t believe it. He goes to Father’s chapel. I was too shocked to move at first but then he slid his hand even further up and actually touched my genitalia. I came to my senses then. I kicked his arm and bent down and slapped him across his nasty face as hard as I could. I almost fell off the steps.’ She stopped, awaiting judgement.
‘Dirty old sod. I’d have kicked him in the goolies.’ Abby slipped off the desk and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
‘Do you think they’ll not have you back ‘cause you slapped his face, love? Is that it?’
She frowned at Ma. ‘They won’t have me back because I walked out, there and then, of course, Mrs Hodges.’
‘Did you hurt Furnswurth?’
‘I don’t know. I expect so. I know it’s very wicked of me, Leigh, but I hope so. Why? Does it matter?’
‘No. Just satisfying if you blacked his eye. I understand your comment now, Faith. I think you were right to do what you did. Showed courage and presence of mind. And I’d be happy for you to start work for me in the morning.’
Her relief was almost tangible. ‘I can start right now, if you like.’
‘Go home and have a short rest. There’s only a couple of hours of the working day left anyway. But there is just one thing.’
‘What time should I be here in the morning?’
‘Up to you; eight thirty to five or nine to five thirty in the week, up to lunch time on Saturdays. I don’t mind. But I want to know something, Faith. I’m curious to know why, having reacted so violently to Furnswurth’s sexual advances, you came straight here? You must’ve believed I was the most sexually dangerous man in the area.’
‘I was out of a job. I have to work. Father is… He wouldn’t understand me leaving like that. In fact, he won’t believe me.’ She shrugged as if resigned. ‘We really need the money because he can’t work, so I couldn’t go home without another job. Yours was the only one with the skills I have. I saw your postcard in Mrs Greenhough’s window. In the rack outside, a newspaper said that unemployment’s gone past a million and is still rising. Where else would I go?’
I grinned at Abby and Ma. ‘Honest, but she’ll gain no points for diplomacy.’
‘Bit of honesty from a pretty lass’ll do you no harm. Most of ‘em are so eager to have you in their knickers they’ll say owt to please you.’ Ma gave Abby a look full of meaning and received a protruding tongue in response. ‘You’re a real surprise to me, Faith, but you’re a welcome addition to Longhouse, and I for one hope you’ll not change your ways too much by working for Leigh.’
She managed a smile for Ma, and then turned to me with apprehension. ‘I must be completely honest, Leigh. I believe it’s as bad to miss out facts, as it is to make them up when it comes to truth. At the Dairy, they either think you’re a wicked libertine or else the most eligible and delectable bachelor in the district, whatever all that means. No one talks about you as if you’re a danger to women, though; just the opposite, in fact. They say you’re licentious and lewd; more words I don’t fully understand, except I know they’re bad. So I didn’t think I’d be in any actual danger unless I let you think I was willing to take off my clothes. Which, by the way, I most certainly am not! Also, I intend to help you see the error of your ways and lead you down the path of righteousness so that we can save your soul.’
I shook my head at her candour. Faith was showing all the signs of being a serious challenge and I relished the coming contest. But she hadn’t finished.
‘I also came here because Father’ll be livid when he learns I’m working for you. But he won’t stop me; we need the money. He calls you ‘Satan’s local henchman’ and believes no woman’s safe with you. I can tell him he’s mistaken about that, and for…’
‘You seem very sure.’
‘Oh, if you’d wanted to do something to me, you had the perfect opportunity when I was lying at your feet. As far as I can tell, you didn’t even try to look up my skirt. And you went up the ladder before me because you knew I’d feel more comfortable that way. In fact, you’ve behaved in a way that even Father would find hard to criticize. I believe you’re a gentleman, even if you do fornicate and take pleasure in the flesh, and I shall tell Father what I’ve learned when I get home’
‘You’ll ruin my reputation as the local despoiler of virgins.’
‘I don’t fully understand what that means, but I’m hoping you’ll ruin mine as the village idiot, Leigh.’
The studio door let Merv into the office. ‘Tight little twat gone…? Oh. Yeah, right. ‘Ere’s that order, Leigh. I’m done now. I’ll be off…’ He knew he’d overstepped the mark.
I wanted the girls, especially Faith, to know how strongly I objected to his attitude. ‘Merv. I’ll say this now, in front of Ma, Abby and Faith. I’ll give you a choice: either you start to treat the women in this household like human beings or you can leave for good. Understood?’
Merv looked at the floor.
‘Understood?’
He glanced up at me and nodded.
‘Understood?’
Faith jumped at my volume.
‘Yeah. Right, yeah, Leigh. Right.’
‘Good. Now, apologize to Faith and then bugger off home. And find another word to use when talking about women to me or anyone else in this household. You might start by using their names. Go.’
Merv turned to Faith, his face purple with a mix of anger and embarrassment. ‘Yeah. Right. Sorry, then.’ I knew we’d get no more from him and I gestured him to leave. He went without another word but he glared at Faith as he closed the door.
‘God, but he’s foul that one.’ Ma had never liked him.
‘Foul mouth, foul mind.’ Abby felt the same way.
‘It’s not just the words; it’s the attitude that lies behind them.’
‘If he upsets you, Leigh, why do you employ him?’
Her directness continued to surprise and amuse me. ‘There’s not much choice around here when it comes to skills and talent, Faith. If you turn out to be as good a Girl Friday as Merv is a printer, I’ll count myself extremely lucky.’
She looked around the room, skimming quickly past the photographs of women’s bodies, but taking in the rest of the details. ‘You’re expecting me to do most of the print finishing in that room next to the darkroom. I didn’t see a phone in there. I won’t be able to answer calls unless you have one put in.’
‘Hasn’t even started and already she’s costing me money. Hop it, wench, before I change my mind!’
She slipped her socks and shoes on quickly and was inside her shabby winter coat before I relented.
‘You’re right, of course. You can have your extension, but only when I’m satisfied you’re right for the job.’
A huge smile of relief brightened her clouded countenance.
Ma turned to Faith and nodded. ‘You’ll do.’
I foresaw those two forming an alliance against me in all sorts of subtle ways and I relished it. ‘Right. I’m off down to Garsington. Coming, Abby?’
She looked out of the window and then stretched, revealing tempting skin. ‘I’ll wait for you near the fire. You’ll need warming up when you come back.’
My look softened her eyes and parted her lips. I turned to Faith. ‘Can I take you home?’
‘Garsington? That’s a long way, isn’t it?’
I laughed. ‘Less than fifteen miles.’
‘Garsington.’ She spoke as if it were another world. ‘No, thank you, Leigh. I believe it’s in the wrong direction.’
‘Suit yourself. See you in the morning then.’
‘Eight thirty. And thank you for giving me a chance, Leigh. I’ll prove my worth.’
I wondered if she would or whether I’d saddled myself with problems simply from a desire to try to mould this strange little wench into a real woman. Time, no doubt, would tell.


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