Chapter 8:

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Just after one o'clock, Mrs. Biggins swung the Masens' door wide without knocking, with a large tray balanced on one hip. "Hello my lovely, I've brought yer din—Aaaaah!" The crockery and utensils began to slide. Mrs. Biggins righted them before they could hit the floor.

"Aaaaah!" Isobel clutched the sheet to her naked breast and smacked down a pillow over her very naked husband, who let out a bellow of his own.

"What's happening?" he yelled. "Identify yourself!"

Private Barker scurried to investigate the old lady, who crouched in her voluminous, black Victorian skirts. He pawed at her and yapped and she flumped down on her ample bottom and panted as the rattling tray settled on her knees.

Thank God Eddie didn't have his gun!

"It's only me!" Mrs. Biggins shooed away Private Barker before he could get so much of a lick of bread and butter. He returned to his basket and sighed disconsolately. Mrs. Biggins addressed her tenants with her eyes screwed shut. "Your landlady! Bringing your dinner (i)."

Bella cupped her hands around Eddie's ear and shouted, "It's our landlady!" She stroked Eddie's shoulder and he slithered under the covers.

"Oh, dear God," he muttered, pressing his hand to his blazing red forehead.

"I'm sae sorry, Mrs. Biggins," Isobel said shakily as she reached over the side of the bed to pluck up clothing from the floor.

"You ought to lock yer door, madam!"

"I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Gave me a turn. Never expected to find you starkers, and in broad daylight, too!"

"Sorry! We meant no offense."

"Hm. Young people! Back in my day, we stayed decent in all circumstances."

Bella could hardly say her husband, unclothed, was her favourite thing. After all, Mrs. Biggins had told her that she must close her eyes and think of England. "Yes, ma'am."

"I don't suppose you can help me up."

Bella winced. "If ye wouldnae mind shutting your eyes for a moment, ma'am, I shall fetch my dressing gown."

"I would not dream of opening my eyes, madam!"

Bella pushed down on Eddie's chest so he wouldn't try to follow her. She scrambled out of bed and to the closet, snatched her unremarkable dressing gown, put it on, tied the sash and ran to help her landlady.

"Take the tray," Mrs. Biggins directed.

"Yes, ma'am!" Bella whisked it carefully onto the dining table.

"Something smells wonderful," Eddie said, following her movement. Evidently, he was not going to die of embarrassment if there was a chance of receiving food to sustain him.

"It does." Bella smiled tentatively at Mrs. Biggins. "All right, ma'am, I'll have ye up in a moment." She stood behind Mrs. Biggins, placed her hands under her arms and heaved. Mrs. Biggins did not budge.

"If ye'll try to get your feet under you, ma'am?"

Mrs. Biggins put her pointy-toed boots to the floor and Bella heaved up on her. "Ow, ow! No! You, silly girl, it isn't working!"

Bella hurried around to the front and extended her hands. "Perhaps if ye give me yer arm."

That didn't work either. Bella had plenty of experience lifting patients but Mrs. Biggins was rather generously built. The old lady was also nearly in tears. Bella looked reluctantly at Eddie. He obviously couldn't tell what on earth was going on. She refocused on Mrs. Biggins.

"Can ye get on your knees, dearie?"

The lady's chins wobbled. "No, my ankle is turned."

"Ma'am, I'm verra sorry about all this. If ye'll give us a moment, I'll help Eddie into his pyjamas. He's verra strong."

"I can't see any other way."

Bella turned, unbuckled Eddie's pack and liberated his pyjamas from the top.

"You haven't even unpacked for him yet?"

Bella glanced at Eddie. "Well," she whispered, "we haff only been out of the hospital a few hours."

Mrs. Biggins' eyes bulged in her florid face. "A few hours?"

"Eddie was dispatched to Egypt moments after we were married. This is the first time we've ever been alone."

Mrs. Biggins' eyes flared wider. She grabbed Bella's hands and shook her head with a sorrowful expression. "You poor dear girl! Are you badly injured?"

Bella blinked and blushed. "No, he's a lovely man. It is but a trifle." She suspected she would not be hurting at all had she not been so greedy for him. They'd been on their fourth go when Mrs. Biggins interrupted.

"Well." Mrs. Biggins pursed her lips at Edward and nodded in approval. "Glad to hear it. I am afraid he's going to have to help me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"He's blind, then?"

"He can see a wee bit. And his hearing will get better."

"Ah." Mrs. Biggins turned her head toward Eddie's cane and backpack, beside the door, as Isobel helped him into his pyjamas. Isobel led him to the door and pulled his hand downward. He patted their landlady on the shoulder.

"Oh, dear." He sank to one knee and got eye-to-eye with her. His eyes looked a right mess but his face was kind. "First Lieutenant Edward Masen, ma'am. Are you injured?"

She shook her head rapidly. "Not badly."

"But you require my assistance?" He pressed his lips together. "If you will forgive the familiarity, missus, I think it will be best if I simply lift you into the chair."

Mrs. Biggins looked doubtfully at her new tenant. He wasn't a burly man. She hoped he would not drop her but she couldn't see what else to do. She nodded.

"Put your arms around my neck, please."

She did so, and quick as a wink, she was sitting in the chair closest to the bed, with two people she barely knew smoothing down her skirts, tut-tutting over her, and placing a shawl around her shoulders. She stroked it absentmindedly. It was baby-fine wool and wonderfully soft. Her rescuer eased himself down onto the chair opposite.

"That suits you, Mrs. Biggins," Isobel said as she lifted the lid from a savoury-smelling crock and spooned stew into one of two bowls. "You maun keep it."

"Oh, no," the lady said, even as she stroked it.

"Ah…" Eddie smiled as Isobel handed him a spoon, and felt around to find his bread. "Lamb stew with rosemary, if I'm not mistaken. Did you make this, missus? Of course you did. Thank you."

Isobel set the teacups in front of Eddie and Mrs. Biggins, who poured. "I cannae keep any woollens. Eddie's dreadfully allergic."

"He's not allergic to lamb, is he?"

"No, only the wool. Will ye have some dinner, missus?"

"That was meant for you. Go down to my apartment and fetch another bowlful. Bring a bit for the dog. The kitchen is at the back."

"Thank ye. Is there anyone else at home?"

"My husband will not be home before eight. Take the keys in case anyone questions you."

"All right." Isobel hurried down the stairs and knocked on the Biggins' door but nobody answered. She stepped inside and blinked, for the entryway was wallpapered in dark blue and the lighting was dingy. Taxidermied animal heads were the focus of the décor. Isobel felt as though she were being watched, and shivered.

A slender tabby cat pounced out of the shadows with a plaintive yowl. Isobel clutched at her chest and blew out her breath. The tabby rubbed itself against her bare ankles, meowing.

"Ye scared me, puss!" Isobel hurried barefoot across the cool tiles and opened the door at the back, to be greeted by delicious smells and heat from the stove. The cat ran inside. After a bit of searching, Isobel found a bowl and spoon, and ladled in some stew from the simmering pot. She cut a thick slice of bread from the loaf on the counter and scraped on a bit of butter. She took a smear of butter from the knife and gave it to the cat.

"All right, pussy, we're friends now. No more scaring me when I come down to visit."

"Meow."

"Of course, precious. Now come out of the kitchen before I get in trouble."

Isobel had to lure the cat out with a promise of crumbs. She swiped her thumb over the bread and let the cat lick off a smidgen of butter. "Ah, I'm yer friend for life now, I'll wager." Isobel took a bite of her bread and hurried back upstairs, where she found Eddie telling a wide-eyed Mrs. Biggins about the time he had a much-anticipated ration of melon stolen by a capuchin monkey.(ii) Isobel spooned a bit of the stew into Private Barker's dish. It was gone before she straightened up.

"Little imp stuck it in his mouth, ran straight up the flagpole, ate the flesh and spit the rind at me. Everyone laughed at me, including him!"

"Gracious!" Mrs. Biggins took another spoonful of her stew while Eddie ran a scrap of bread around his empty bowl. She didn't seem to notice that his hand was shaking, but Isobel did. He was still hungry. "Such things you've seen, Lieutenant Masen."

"I can laugh at it now," he accidentally interrupted her as Isobel poured half her stew into his bowl. He glanced up at Isobel. "Oh, darling, you need that for yourself."

Wordlessly, she tore her bread in half and placed some in his hand. His ears pink, he thanked her quietly and tucked in. Isobel picked up her bowl and began to eat. The stew was lovely. Perfectly seasoned.

Eddie pushed back his chair suddenly. "Where are my manners? Please do forgive me, darling. You haven't any chair!"

Isobel prevented him from rising. "I'm fine standing." She retrieved his napkin from the floor.

"Bella," Edward said sternly, "if you won't permit me to stand so you may sit, then you must sit on my knee."

Mrs. Biggins tucked her chin with a guilty look. "You know, Mrs. Masen, considering the circumstances, I do not feel it would be untoward if you were to sit on your good husband's knee."

Isobel felt her cheeks heat. "Tis nae necessary. I-I-I—"

"Come now, you are plainly an affectionate couple. You… should be comfortable in your own home."

Isobel glanced at Eddie, who had parted his legs and opened his arms. Her face hot, she stepped between his knees and he placed his hands around her waist. She lowered herself gingerly to perch on his right thigh and he placed his arm around her middle. Feigning nonchalance, she picked up the brown Betty (iii) and poured steaming tea into Eddie's bone china cup. She picked it up and drank thirstily.

Mrs. Biggins giggled into her own cup. "Now you've done it, haven't you!"

Isobel froze. "Done what?"

"Do you not know the Old Wives' tale?"

Isobel picked up the teapot and filled the cup again. "Which one?"

"When two women pour tea from the same pot, one shall bear a babe within a year. I can say with some certainty that it shan't be me."

"Well." Isobel sipped at the tea while Eddie spooned stew neatly into his mouth using the wrong hand. "What a lovely thought."

"Is it?"

"That would be grand."

"Babies are a lot of work."

"Sometimes, at the hospital, I'd have twenty or thirty sick men to look after at once. How much trouble can one bairn be?"

"You've got that right." Both women laughed.

Eddie pursed his lips and feigned a scowl. "What's sae funny, woman?"

Isobel put her mouth against his ear and spoke loudly. "Old Wives' Tales, PBI."

Eddie frowned. "Old mice tails, what? I'm afraid I'm a bit lost."

Isobel cupped his cheek and kissed him on the jaw. He smiled sheepishly, then cleared his throat.

"Say, I hope you'll pardon me for asking, but is there anything more to eat?"

Isobel stood and ruffled his hair. "Boys!" She went to the cupboard and pulled out a round, heavy tin, which she opened and offered to Mrs. Biggins. "I've some lovely shortbread that my Aunt Maggie sent me. Her cook is wonderful."

"Ooh, thank you." Mrs. Biggins helped herself to a large triangle.

The shortbread was thick and each piece fit the diameter of the tin. Coarse white sugar, a true treat, sparkled on the top. The round layers of shortbread had been scored through with a fork to make pie-shaped wedges. Isobel broke off a large piece for Eddie and he brought it to his face to examine it. "What's this?" Isobel bit into her piece, which was crumbly and buttery with just a hint of sweetness. Eddie bit into his and moaned. "This is the best cookie I've ever had!"

Between the three of them, they devoured half the tin. Isobel had to go back downstairs to set the kettle on twice before Mr. Biggins got home. By the time he knocked, the trio was laughing madly, playing cards. Eddie would randomly smack his palm down on the pile when there weren't any matches, with a cry of "Snap!" which sent the ladies into fits of the giggles.

Mr. Biggins entered and held out his hand to Edward. "Peter Biggins, Landlord."

Isobel directed Eddie's hand to meet his.

"Ah," Eddie said, his face bright. "You must be this fine lady's husband. Pray excuse me for poor conversation skills, I'm deaf as a hundred-and-ten-year-old Sweat at the moment. Whizzbang. A lot of men got the kybosh (iv) but Johnny Turk (v) missed me. I'm Eddie Masen and this is my wife, Bella."

"Pleased to meet yer."

"I'm afraid your missus took a fall. She may need your assistance to get downstairs."

Mr. Biggins' bushy eyebrows went up. "What happened, My Own?"

Mrs. Biggins waved her hand dismissively. "I turned my ankle, that's all. I must say, though, I'm ready for bed."

Isobel stood up, feeling quite awkward in her dressing gown and bare feet. "If ye need any help tomorrow, Mrs. Biggins, please call me."

"I shall, my dear."

Edward shook Mrs. Biggins' hand as they said goodnight. "Thank you for a lovely evening, missus. I haven't had a dinner like that since I was fourteen years old."

Mrs. Biggins coloured with pleasure. "Perhaps you would consider eating downstairs with me tomorrow night. It gets lonesome with Mr. Biggins at work in the evenings."

"We'd enjoy that," Isobel said.

"Excellent!" Mr. Biggins placed his arm around his wife's shoulders. "Be nice for you to have young people around again, missus." His eyes were solemn.

"Yes," she said sadly.

"Can we bring anything?" Isobel asked her.

"A little sweetie, perhaps?"

"Of course."

"I'll take the dishes when I bring your breakfast."

"No, I'll come back for them," Mr. Biggins said. "Just put the tray on the landing, will yer?"

"Thank you."

"We'll see you tomorrow," Mr. Biggins said. Isobel opened her mouth to offer to help him get Mrs. Biggins down the stairs, then decided they were going to have enough difficulty in the narrow space without her alongside. As soon as she'd locked the door behind them, Eddie snaked his arms around her.

"Mrs. Masen?"

"Hm?"

"I must smell like a dead horse's backside. Half of Europe's been ground into my hide. Where's the water closet?" He took a deep breath and growled like a bear against her neck. Isobel squealed and bent double. Eddie lifted her right off the floor, chuckling with glee, and she shrieked as he blew his breath out between her breasts.

Slapping him away playfully, Isobel slipped into an afternoon dress and shoes, showed her husband how to find the WC, three doors down the hall, and left him to his own devices. She whistled for Private Barker, snapped on his leash and took him on a hurried walk, fretting the whole time about Eddie. She needn't have worried. When she returned with the terrier, Eddie was lying –scrubbed pink and sleek— nude atop the bedclothes, ankles crossed, smoking a cigarette.

"Forgive me for smoking in front of you, darling." He blew a ring of smoke into the air, like a wish, and smiled. "Fancy, someone only smoked this halfway down and then stubbed it out. I found it in the bathroom and couldn't resist pinching it."

Polite society would skewer him for smoking in front of a woman. (vi) Of course, Isobel wasn't a typical female. She sashayed over, crawled onto his lap, grasped the cigarette between her fingers, took a big puff and blew the smoke in his face.

Eddie blinked. His jaw dropped and an incredulous smile lit his face. He lunged at Isobel, who crawled away from him laughing madly. Hampered by her skirt, she flopped onto her stomach and stretched the hand holding the cigarette until it was perilously close to her pillows. Reaching for it, Eddie pressed his weight down on her back and her heart caught in her throat. She couldn't breathe! But a moment later, he pushed down on her ribs with his bad hand, rolled away to lie languidly on his back, and drew on the cigarette until its end turned from red to ash. He blew a perfect smoke ring in the air while Isobel cursed her heart for pounding against her ribs.

He flicked ash into a soup tin on the bedside table and narrowed his clouded eyes at her with a delicious smirk. "Meanie. Do you realize how long it's been since I've had one of these?" He extended his bandaged hand along the pillows and she tucked herself against his side. She shut her eyes but they flooded with tears, so she stopped breathing in an effort to repress her sobs.

"Why are you holding yourself so stiff?" He turned onto his side and caught her weeping. "Isobel!"

Curse that damned Frenchie! Isobel hadn't intended to give him any part of her lovely day.

Eddie's forehead creased. "I'm not mad at you for smoking, love. I was only joking. Here, I'll share!" He held the cigarette up to her lips.

Isobel nudged his hand away, rested her palm against his face, smiled and shook her head. She got off the bed and shut the heavy curtains over the sheers. The end of the cigarette glowed red in the darkness. Isobel slipped out of her dress. As she moved to get under the covers, Eddie extinguished the stub of the cigarette and dropped it in his can. He lifted the bedclothes and slipped under, with his wife. He placed his leg between hers, pulled her close, and kissed her wet eyes.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. What can I do?"

She shook her head fiercely and he tensed.

"Have you changed your mind? Do you… want to imshee me?"

"No, no, no!" Isobel wailed, pulling at him until his head was cradled on her breast. "Ye cannae ever leave me again!" Of course he was insecure! He'd obviously always been a going concern (vii) and now that he was unable to work, he didn't know what to do with himself.

Eddie snaked his hand around the back of her neck, tipped up his head and pressed his lips to hers. "I will never, ever leave you again."

"Ye heard me!"

"Hush! The entire house can probably hear you."

"Eddie!"

"Well, I suspect you're being pretty loud."

"I love you!" she shouted.

"I know you said that, but…" He swallowed hard. "Still?"

"Yes!"

"Shh!" He tucked his face against her chest. "Thank God." He released his breath and his tension. "I empathize with your wish to yell it from the rooftops, but our landlord's going to storm up here again. Did you lock the door?"

Isobel scrambled out of bed and locked the door. She jumped back under the covers and pulled them up over their heads. Eddie laughed in that surprised way that she loved. He placed his ear above her heart.

"I wish I could hear your heartbeat." He rested his face on her chest. His eyelashes tickled when he blinked.

"So do I." Her voice was husky. How she wished he could hear properly.

"I will, someday. Soon."

"I know." They lay quietly for a while.

"It's been a big day, hasn't it?" he murmured.

"Yes."

"Best day of my life. Thank you. For bringing me home. I wouldn't have made it without…"

"Oh, Eddie."

"I love you, Bella. And I will never forget this."

She pressed her lips to his forehead and held him. They slept.

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i In England, the traditional daily meals are breakfast, dinner (usually the most substantial meal of the day) and tea. In Edwardian times, the men of the house still received the best of the food. In poorer households, the wives and children might not get any meat. Staple foods were potatoes and bread. Oatmeal, while cheap and nourishing, was not accepted by most English people as acceptable fare. Luckily for Eddie and Isobel, they have a good amount of money and therefore have plenty to eat.

ii Capuchin monkeys, properly known as pygmy marmosets, were brought to Egypt from Africa, often as pets. There aren't really any native species of monkey in Egypt. However, there are baboons.

iii Brown Betty: a globe-shaped stoneware teapot, generally with a brown glaze.

iv Kibosh/Kybosh: from the Middle English caboche (to behead). Eventually, to imprison, to fetter, to put a stop to someone, to decisively terminate someone.

v Johnny Turk: British/Allied trench slang for Turkish soldiers.

vi It was considered to be in extremely poor taste for a man to smoke in front of a woman. After dinner, ladies retired to sitting rooms and men went in a separate room to smoke. It was considered scandalous for a woman to smoke. In the 1920s, that would change. A lot of soldiers went home addicted to tobacco and the popularity of smoking consequently spread. Although doctors tried to distribute their knowledge that smoking was bad for people's eyes and lungs, they weren't believed. Many people thought it actually strengthened the lungs. As well, people smoked because there was no deodorant.

vii A going concern: a person always on the move, who frequently got into mischief, which meant loved ones (particularly mothers) were always concerned.

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