made the decision as far as Arthur was concerned.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I consider it an utter waste of money buying fireworks to light up the sky and can never understand people wanting to do it, but if you want to go so much, we will look in for an hour or so.’
Hannah and Josie had a wonderful time. Josie’s eyes were wide with astonishment at the fireworks. Roman candles, Golden Rain and Catherine wheels. Even the names were exciting and the bright colours of them sparking into the black night brought oohs and ahhs from more than Josie who’d eaten so many sausages, Hannah said she’d never sleep.
But she did, they all did, and the next morning Hannah got up in a buoyant mood. Life wasn’t so bad, she thought, and Arthur could be handled easily with a little care and attention. Her good mood lasted all that day and even Gloria commented on it.
But Arthur came home again that evening in a foul mood. All day he’d fought his conscience because he knew he wanted to make love to Hannah and he knew not only would he fail, but also that it would probably turn out the same as last time, and he would be ashamed of himself because of it.
Hannah was unprepared for the assault that night, relaxed and at ease. She was pulling her nightie over her head when Arthur entered the room. In two strides he was behind her, wrapping one arm vice-like around her waist while pulling the nightie from her with the other.
Hannah gave a yelp and hearing the material tear, she cried out sharply, ‘Arthur, stop! What’s got into you?’
‘Shut up! Shut your mouth!’ Arthur cried, as he flicked the light out and kicked the door closed.
Hannah was nervous of the man she barely knew in this mood, but she didn’t struggle. She had the feeling that he’d enjoyed her futile attempts to free herself the last time. This time she lay passive and felt his breath on her face as he screamed obscenities at her. She was conscious of Josie lying the other side of a stud wall and knew every syllable from Arthur’s lips would be audible to her.
And it was audible, even when she buried her head beneath the blankets and wrapped her pillow around her ears. It was filthy talk, dirty words that she’d never heard from any man in her family. Some she didn’t know the meaning of, but knew they weren’t nice by the way Arthur said them. She wondered what he was doing to Hannah while he was saying such things, she’d been very quiet since the one short shout. What if he’d hurt her, killed her even? No, if he’d killed her there’d be no point in going on shouting at her. But all the same, she trembled in fear both for herself and Hannah.
Hannah wasn’t dead, but petrified with loathing for the stranger her husband had turned into. His apologies the next morning were as sincere as ever, but when he assured her it wouldn’t happen again, she didn’t believe him.
It was as well she didn’t for the same thing happened the next week and the next and the next. Sometimes only two or three days would pass, sometimes a week. Arthur always apologised and said how ashamed he was, but he refused to discuss his problem or seek help.
‘My God, girl, you look peaky,’ Gloria remarked one day. ‘Mind you, you’ve not looked yourself for days. You’re not … you know, expecting?’
‘No,’ Hannah said tersely, thinking ‘fat chance’. Gloria looked offended at Hannah’s tone and eventually she said, ‘Sorry, Gloria, I’m tired, I’m not getting much sleep.’
‘Well, I must say I’m surprised at Arthur,’ Gloria said. ‘Didn’t think he had it in him.’
Hannah’s mind was befuddled because of lack of sleep. ‘Had what in him?’
‘Don’t act the innocent with me,’ Gloria said quite sharply. ‘You know what’s what as well as I do. Some men are the very devil, want to be at it morning, noon and night. You need to put your foot down.’
Hannah knew now what Gloria had been hinting at and hid a wry smile at Arthur being thought of as a sex-crazed Casanova.
Just before Christmas, a letter with an airmail stamp from America arrived and Hannah snatched it up eagerly, glad that Arthur always left for work before the post came. It hadn’t been the first letter Hannah had had because Martin in particular wrote often and kept her up to date with the news.
This letter was no exception and in it Martin wrote of the impending marriage in March the following year of Siobhan to a wealthy New York banker.
He wrote,
Her future is assured now and so is mine for I’ve obtained a good job in a factory belonging to one of Aunt Norah’s friends.
The farm business is now completed and Josie’s share will be a little under three hundred pounds. We all also feel that while it was very good of you to take Josie into your home, you shouldn’t suffer financially because of it. I will be sending twenty dollars a month for her and Siobhan and her husband another twenty dollars. We hope that this will help towards her upkeep.
Hannah was filled with relief at the offer of financial assistance, for Arthur had made it clear almost from the beginning that he was not clothing the child. Feeding her was bad enough, he’d said, and Hannah would have to apply to the family if she needed more money.
She’d never done this, but knew if Josie grew much more, nothing she had would fit her. Added to that, the black patent shoes she’d bought her for the wedding were not strong enough, nor warm enough, to wear through the winter, which was prophesised to be a bad one with much rain and snow.
So while the monthly allowance was a lifeline and one Hannah decided to use as needed, the three hundred pounds was Josie’s security. The future payment for a wedding and honeymoon perhaps, for Hannah knew that Arthur would not contribute to either when the time came.
No luxuries were affordable on the money Arthur gave Hannah and she was finding more and more of her wages were being used to supplement the household budget.
But Hannah seldom complained and tried hard to keep the house peaceful, knowing that if she annoyed Arthur in any way she’d pay for it later. But somehow, she had to safeguard Josie’s money for she knew Arthur would have it off her faster than the speed of light and she’d never see a penny of it again.
She wrote to Martin, thanking him for his and Siobhan’s offer of financial help for Josie. She accepted gratefully on her behalf, but Josie’s share of the sale, she said, she’d rather he kept and tied up in some fund or another to mature when she reached twenty-one, and in a way that no one else could touch it.
Josie was delighted that Hannah was eventually being paid something for her keep, for she’d felt bad about living on her and knew Arthur resented it, but Hannah’s handling of her inheritance worried her. ‘Won’t Arthur really be cross?’
‘He may indeed,’ Hannah said. ‘Sure isn’t that why I’ve asked Martin to have it tied up in trust for you?’
‘Doesn’t it … Isn’t it a bit sneaky?’
‘With Arthur, you have to be sneaky,’ Hannah told Josie. ‘He’d have the money off you before you’d had the chance to see the colour of it and that can’t be right either. Your mammy wouldn’t want that. She’d want the money to benefit you in some way, wouldn’t she? I’ll tell Arthur that Martin decided it that way, then he can’t blame either of us, can he?’ But Hannah knew Arthur would be furious when he discovered that he was unable to touch Josie’s inheritance.
Josie chewed her thumbnail. ‘I suppose,’ she said at last. ‘But what if you need it? I mean what if you had a baby of your own or something?’
‘That won’t happen, Josie,’ Hannah said grimly. ‘Believe me, that just won’t happen.’
She felt suddenly very sorry for herself. She’d married a man she didn’t love in order to have a child. And that was the one thing he couldn’t give her. And because he couldn’t give her a child, he hurled obscenities at her and abused her whenever the notion took him. It seemed to her she’d dealt herself a very bad fist indeed. It