Chummy took a quick breath. "No, we certainly are not in school any more. All of that is a long, long time ago". Better best forgotten as the case may be.
"One always wished that we were somehow better prepared for what the future may throw at us…" Isobel began, thinking back at how different life was then when all the cares in the world they had were so simply solved. "We all thought the world was ponies, ballgowns and one day a line of sweet children brought up by the Nanny and a pretty cottage in the country…." She sighed and folding her arms protectively across herself, damp nail polish forgotten. "Well, I certainly did for starters" she concluded looking up briefly at her friend.
"It's far from that…" Chummy replied with an ironic laugh. Those sentiments she too had once shared - well perhaps just the ponies and ballgowns - but it was true that all those years ago she saw the world with such closeted eyes and no-one taught her otherwise. Reality, even so far removed from what she read in the Church Times as she began to open up her eyes to the world, was a shock to the system. "We were so unprepared for real life" she said. "No-one taught us how to communicate with people outside our circle or how the world might view the privileged existence we grew up in. I learned more than one could ever imagine the moment I ended up at St Thomas'. About me, about life…..Even more in Poplar". How true was that?
"All we were taught was that men were beastly creatures with abominable habits and in order to achieve anything in this world we had to marry them" Chummy concluded. "We had to marry them to be worth something".
"..and yet when we do", Isobel replied thoughtfully, "we become mute.. I do wish I had a little one to amuse me; to talk to" she continued, considering the words she had just heard carefully, not seeing Chummy bristle slightly.
"Babies aren't there to provide entertainment to you Belle or be a distraction", Chummy replied. "Not when they are being sick in the night or screaming their hearts out because they have a tooth coming through. They aren't playthings". She would never dream of passing her Freddie off to a Nanny like she had been and it was always Peter or her that tucked him up in bed. One or the other, come what may; they both made sure of that.
"But if I did have a little one, I might have some purpose to my life" Isobel insisted. "One does appreciate that they are their own little people but if I did have a child to play with or perhaps to take to the park one might not let one's mind wander so much…."
Chummy bit back what she was about to say as it was harsh. You really have no idea, do you? "Freddie can be a little devil at times" she started, "but even all the tears and the tantrums when he smiles at me when he wakes up just because I'm the first thing he sees, or when I see him and Peter….when they have their little conversations…. I love him more than I thought I could love anyone. And Peter too".
"You see that's where you and I differ" Isobel responded, looking up and seeing the pleading expression on her friend's face. She rubbed one eye. Smudged mascara to go with smudged nail varnish. "I honestly think Philip tries his best with me, but one gets so bored with lunches and hair dressing appointments that….that sometimes I feel my frustrations spill over and he has no choice".
"I don't understand" Chummy whispered, dreading the place her mind had wandered to.
"He has no choice but to quieten me", Isobel responded, the flash of angry eyes and venomous mouth still all too prevalent in her mind. She had tried to justify it; that she forced him into those words so it must be her fault. It was almost safer that way with the enormity of what may happen if she fought back.
"Quieten you?" Chummy asked slowly, fear firmly coursing through her veins.
Isobel didn't answer the question. She chose not to answer the question. "Lately the house has become so tedious and I have found myself seeking amusement elsewhere. With no prospect of a child from my husband that one…" Embarrassment fluttered across her face at the words she was about to utter. "Our relations are sporadic and I might add driven by him….and when one finds things out about one's husband's affairs…"
"Affairs in the biblical sense?" Chummy questioned, interrupting her.
"Financial affairs" Isobel clarified, until other words came tumbling from her mouth as needed to feel the weight on her shoulders lift, even for a handful of seconds as the fear balled tightly in her middle. "Oh Chummy…. I know he goes to those places in the East End. He tells me often enough! Positively tortures me with it!" she exclaimed, determined not to cry or perversely, feel jealous of those girls that had her husband's attention. His attention was meant to be with me. "He says those girls 'service his needs' better than I do. He doesn't have affairs with pretty little things hanging off his arm, no. He prefers whores to his wife". She sounded almost casual at the end. As though she was so used to it now that whoever knew, well, it didn't really matter.
Chummy, however, didn't know what to say. She had heard all sorts of whispers from years ago; accidentally seen him in the East End long before the marriage as he frequented one of those places so it should never have been a surprise. Trouble was, now faced with the truth as it was laid before her; she had little idea how to soothe this wound.
"He says that when he goes with them" Isobel carried on, needing to talk, "he at least has a woman who pretends she wants to be in his bed…..But if he did not speak to me in such a manner that he does, one might feel more enthusiasm…The very thing is though…." Isobel stopped herself abruptly. She could have as many jewels and dresses as she liked, but she might just love somebody to talk to.
"Go on…." Chummy responded warily, clasping her hands together tightly in anxiety, hoping her face was not betraying her.
"How do you control your feelings? How do you control your….your….desires towards a man?" Isobel asked, stuttering as she forced the words from her lips.
Chummy was lost again and shook her head; confused. Swinging from one minute to telling her how little they seemed to interact, as it where, to asking questions about the deepest intimacies between man and woman. "Well if you are talking about Peter, I've never had to and I don't want to. There hasn't been anyone else to talk about". All of sudden a light flicked on in the Sister's head when she realised what or in fact, who, Isobel was talking about. "You don't mean Philip when you say 'a man' do you….?"
"Daniel" she replied flatly and far too quickly. If she paused, she may not say his name at all.
The Sister's heart dropped. She couldn't believe what her ears were hearing. "You and Daniel are….?!"
"For several months" Isobel confessed. "Philip knows; or rather he asked me if what he heard was true". She could still feel the panic at the confrontation over breakfast. "I feel his frustration, but no-one frowns on a man who has an acquaintance outside his marriage. For a woman they do, so I denied it. It has not…absolutely not…extended to intimate matters, but I do rather feel it will in time. Daniel he….he has told me time and time again that he loves me".
Chummy reached across and took Isobel's wrist. "Did Philip do that when he found out? When he suspected you?"
Isobel shook her head, freely pulling her sleeve back up, the heaviness lifting and feeling her fears temporarily drift away. "One does know what it looks like and could be easily misconstrued and one imagines anyone who would see it would rightly form a conclusion, but I fell. I was out walking with Daniel and I fell over a tree root. He grabbed my arm to stop me falling properly. That's where the bruises came from. You have to believe me. I am telling the truth". This time she was telling the truth. How she would explain ripped stockings or mud on her skirt she would never know if he hadn't caught her. Chummy had not seen the bruises on her back where, however, marks lay that had fallen from the hands of her friend's husband. That time he had shoved her or the mark on the top of her thigh that hurt so very much when she sat a certain way.
"I believe you", Chummy responded.
"I had to hide it from Philip and mother" Isobel replied. "Then when…"
"When?"
Isobel took a deep breath, wanting to offload what had been haunting her mind and perhaps her real, final straw, reason for fleeing London to find space and solace. "A fortnight ago I received a letter. It told me that my husband and Daniel and some other person called Edward somebody were involved in a complicated arrangement with a chap called George Bolton. In somewhere called Shadwell. That they needed to be careful and that I needed to be careful of what they were doing".
The premise of an unsupportive husband seemed an easy place to hide and with all that was falling on top of her, Isobel had no choice but to run. These bruises in all those places that would stay hidden were her fault for provoking him with her words and deeds after all. He must never find out she had been on this excursion. It was punishment for not being the wife he wanted; for betraying him.
"Did you report it to the Police?" Chummy asked.
Isobel shook her head. "I told Philip because he was my husband and he was named in the letter. He ripped it up and laughed about it. I remember his laughter – braying it was as though he was untouchable". Chummy heard her breath out sharply. "I received another just before I left to come here. It told me exactly the same thing. Almost word for word except it was almost taunting me. It mentioned drugs and it mentioned Daniel too". Isobel looked up again. It was as though the person who wrote this letter knew of their mutual acquaintance, to put it mildly. "I did want to speak to his mother about staying at the Hall, genuinely I did, but I also wanted to make sure he was safe. I should have asked you if I could use the telephone".
The last thing Chummy was concerned about was the telephone bill.
"I ran to you because you were my only safe place. Not Mother, not Daniel, not Philip. Mother would tell me to be quiet for the sake of appearances and we couldn't afford a divorce, Daniel would tell me to leave and go off with him and Philip…." She didn't know what her husband would do; she knew him that ill. "When I got to Nonnatus and then to the Police Station. I just couldn't do it. I didn't want anything to happen to Philip, even if he and I are not on the best of terms, nor Daniel… Despite the state of my relationships I do not wish to see anyone in trouble".
"Did you keep the letter this time?" Chummy asked, thinking it far too late to worry about 'trouble'.
Isobel nodded. "It's in my suitcase".
"I think we need to take some advice from someone who knows…" Chummy announced standing up and holding out a hand to her friend. "Come on. Upstairs".