Page 34 of The Cursed Writer
‘Anyway, soon he was saying nice things about my appearance too,’ the young woman went on. ‘He said my hairwas like burnished copper, which I didn’t believe for a moment but I liked hearing him say it. The first time he kissed me was a shock – I think I pushed him away. But he said he couldn’t help himself, that he couldn’t stop thinking about me and he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.’ She fixed her gaze on the ground, shame burning in her cheeks. ‘I didn’t push him away after that.’
Harry turned to watch the sea, observing the rise and fall of the swell and the seagulls that swooped overhead with detached interest. Simeon Pemberton had said nothing the first time he’d tried to kiss her. He’d said nothing afterwards, either, but that was because she had kneed him so sharply in the groin that he had not been capable of speech.
‘After a while, he confessed that his wife didn’t care for him but he could tell I was different. He – he told me he loved me.’ Cecily looked beseechingly at Harry. ‘I knew it was wrong but no one had ever talked to me like that. He said he would leave his wife, when the time was right, and we’d set up home together. I knew Father would approve, even if he was a divorced man, and it made it easier, somehow, to forget that we were doing something wrong. And then I missed a month, and another. Simeon was furious – he accused me of trying to trap him, even went so far as to say the baby could not be his.’
She stopped talking, visibly upset. Harry seethed inwardly at Pemberton’s ugly yet predictable reaction to the awful fate he had inflicted on Cecily. She was not blameless but his refusal to take responsibility only infuriated Harry more. One day, she would find a way to hold him accountable, she vowed. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Cecily had herself under control again. ‘I didn’t know what to do. He was so different. He told me I’d have to leave the bank and if I tried to claim my situation was anything to do with him, he’d deny everything. I didn’t dare tell my father – for weeks, I pretended to go to work each day. Then my mother noticed my belly and the gamewas up. She turned white as a sheet, didn’t say a word. She just walked out of the room.’
Harry’s hands clenched into fists by her sides. Her own mother could be a bit overbearing and occasionally infuriating, but her actions came from a place of love and Harry knew that if she ever found herself in so desperate a situation, she would not be abandoned with such heartlessness. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, as Cecily wiped a tear from her cheek.
The other woman looked at her. ‘Why should you be sorry? It’s not your fault.’
Harry made a helpless gesture. ‘No, but even so. It must have been very difficult for you.’
Cecily shrugged. ‘For days she didn’t speak to me, then one morning about a week later, she gave me some pills. She’d got them from America, she said, and told me to take one each day.’
An awful suspicion began to dawn on Harry. She turned sharply to Cecily, who let out a barely muffled sob. ‘I didn’t know what it would do! I thought it must be vitamins of some kind, a supplement to keep us both healthy. It was only when I became ill that I realised the truth.’
Harry was aghast as her worst fear was confirmed. Abortion was not only illegal but terribly risky – the newspapers were full of stories about women who had tried to end an unwanted pregnancy and had lost their own lives in the process. For once, she had no words to offer. Cecily did not meet her gaze. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so unwell as I was then. The convulsions. The hallucinations. For days, I was confined to my bed, but I remember trying to run from the house more than once. When I slept, I was haunted by nightmares. And when at last I got better and I could think clearly again, it became obvious that it had been for nothing. I was still with child.’ She paused, her expression bleak. ‘That was when my mother told my father.’
It was, Harry thought, almost too horrific to contemplate. That a mother would risk her own child’s life in such a way… But something else was nagging at her, something about the list of symptoms Cecily had described. They bore a chilling similarity to those endured by Philip St John, although she doubted he had been fed the same pills Cecily had. ‘The medicine your mother got from America,’ she said slowly. ‘Did you ever learn its name?’
Cecily frowned. ‘The brand name was on the box. What was it, now? Mylex? Morlex? Mother said it was an ancient herbal medicine, distilled from some kind of grain.’ She shook her head. ‘Argot? I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly.’
Harry frowned. Argot. Where had she heard that name before? Had it been one of the poisons listed in the book that was sitting on her bedside table? ‘Don’t distress yourself,’ she told Cecily. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
They walked in silence for a moment, then Cecily spoke again. ‘Once I understood what Mother had tried to do, I could not bear to even look at her. But worse was to come. When my father learned that I was to be an unmarried mother, he told me I had brought shame on his good name and cast me out of the house.’
Again, Harry was appalled by the callousness of the Earnshaws. ‘So you came here.’
‘It was the only place I could think of,’ Cecily said. ‘Joan was understandably a little taken aback to see me, after so many years, but she soon realised what the situation was. She said I could stay, if I earned my keep. I’ve been here ever since.’
It was, Harry thought, one of the saddest stories she had ever heard. And she could not see how things were going to improve for Cecily. Once the baby arrived, she would not be able to work. Would Joan be so accommodating when her niece was unable to scrub laundry? The house appeared to be no more than a two-up, two-down construction, hardly big enough for Joan and herfamily, let alone Cecily and her child. And then there was Circus Street itself, squalid and derelict, falling down around the ears of those who sheltered there. It was no place to raise a child. But she did not know how to help Cecily. Until an hour ago, they had been strangers.
‘I am glad the pills did not work,’ Cecily said, suddenly breaking the silence in a clear, determined tone. She raised her chin. ‘I know you pity me and my situation but at least I will have my baby and we will find a way to manage somehow.’
Harry gave her an earnest look. ‘I don’t pity you, Cecily. I admire you for having the strength and initiative to find somewhere to go. But I do admit to being concerned for you both.’ She paused, remembering the sneering comments of Joan and her neighbour back at Circus Street. ‘There are charities that can help?—’
Vehemently, Cecily shook her head. ‘I know about those. They take the baby away the moment it’s born.’ Her hand curved around her stomach. ‘I’d never see my child again.’
There were such places, Harry had to admit, but they were not what she had meant. ‘What if I was able to secure some money – enough to give you a fresh start somewhere better than this. Would you take it?’
Cecily stared at her. ‘But where would it come from?’
‘Perhaps one of the charities I mentioned, but not the ones you mean. My grandmother is involved with a number of them, many of which are quite successful in terms of fundraising. I might be able to persuade one of them to support you, in the short term, to allow you to get back on your feet.’
The other woman did not answer immediately. ‘You are very kind,’ she said at last. ‘But the shame of being an unmarried mother… I would be a pariah, no matter where I settled, and my child would be forever tarred by the same brush. At least here I am not alone.’
Harry was tempted to point out that being alone in relative comfort might be preferable to the filth of a slum but she held back, recognising it was not her decision to make. ‘Perhaps you might agree to think about it,’ she said. ‘The offer will still be there if you change your mind, and you can always reach me at the bank.’
Cecily sighed and rubbed her back once more. ‘You are very kind,’ she said again, ‘but I really should be getting back. I have been much longer than thirty minutes.’
Harry eyed her weary expression and wished she could do more to help. But she could not force the young woman to accept her assistance. ‘I wish you well, Cecily. Both of you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and let out a strange, puzzled laugh. ‘Although I’m not sure I really understand what brought you here. You said we had a common enemy, and I realise that must be Mr Pemberton, but I’m not sure hearing my tale of woe was enough to bring you all the way from London.’ She studied Harry in bewilderment. ‘Have I helped you in some way?’
The question gave Harry a moment’s pause, because discovering the unhappy depths of Simeon Pemberton’s cruelty could not be said to have helped in any practical terms. But knowing the severity of his secret had given her something to use against him in the future, although she would not make the details public if it meant ruining Cecily’s reputation even further. Impulsively, Harry reached out to squeeze the younger woman’s arm. ‘You’ve given me more than you will ever know.’
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