The Keepsake. Sheelagh Kelly

the special knock they had arranged. Within seconds he was inside, the boots were tipped onto the floor and Etta was in his arms.

      Relations were even better this morning, for she was wearing a nightdress which revealed every soft curve, her body warm, her black eyes heavy with sleep and looking more seductive than ever. In seconds, without even removing his boots, let alone his uniform, he was in the bed with her, repeating yesterday’s excursion. Ecstatic to see him, Etta proved most willing, but eventually pushed him away with a scolding laugh, telling him, ‘Enough! I’m absolutely famished. They’ve been baking bread since the early hours and the scent of it has been driving me insane.’

      His senses otherwise engaged, only now did Marty notice the aroma that elevated from the bake house, and apologised for the flattened offering he had provided, but she didn’t seem to mind, devouring the bread and butter with gusto and asking between bites, ‘Did you manage to find us a home?’

      ‘I did! Or rather I soon will have. I’ve three addresses lined up, so one of them should come up trumps.’ At her look of excitement he added, ‘Sorry I won’t be able to afford a whole house…’

      ‘Rooms will be fine,’ she assured him, munching happily. ‘Providing I’m with you.’ She seemed unable to tear her eyes from him, her roaming gaze making new discoveries. ‘Your fingernails are beautifully clean considering what you do for a living.’

      Surprised by this sudden tangent, he looked down at his hands. ‘Thank you. I always wear gloves when I’m handling boot polish; can’t abide filthy nails.’

      She nodded approvingly and, still munching, returned to the subject in hand. ‘So, when will you have news?’

      ‘I’ll try and go in my dinner hour.’

      ‘You know, we should really be arranging our nuptials too.’

      ‘Don’t think I’ve forgotten.’ He gave her a kiss. ‘But I haven’t time to do that and look for rooms, and my priority is to get you out of here.’

      ‘My priority too.’ She gnawed her way through the crust. ‘You can’t imagine how bored I’ve been – so I think I shall go for a walk and at the same time visit the register office.’

      ‘Ye can’t go out! What if you’re seen? It took me so much trouble getting you in here…’

      Etta gave a petulant sigh. ‘Oh, all right. Perhaps it would be more fitting for the groom to apply.’ But her despondency did not last long, as she informed him excitedly, ‘Since Father dragged me away from you I’ve been putting our enforced separation to good use by reading up on the subject of matrimony. Apparently, if time is of the essence, as it is with us, one requires a licence. Once we have that we may marry after one full day elapses. We’ll also need written consent from our parents – now, that’s something I can be doing whilst you’re away, I’m very adept at forgery. Though it might be rather suspicious if I use the hotel writing paper for both letters!’

      Marty laughed and said he would compose his own on more suitable paper. ‘But how much is all this going to cost?’

      Etta had missed this practicality. ‘Oh, I’m not sure – but don’t worry, I’ve some jewellery in my bag we can sell.’ At his objection she overruled him. ‘I insist! Everything is worthless compared to being your wife.’ The last mouthful of bread consumed, she leapt from the bed, soon dancing back to him with some earrings and two brooches. ‘There are lesser items too if you think you’ll be able to get anything for them, a blouse, a skirt…’

      Reluctant even to accept the jewellery, he told her, ‘What sort o’ man takes the clothes from his wife’s back? I’m not even sure I should be taking these. You realise I could be accused of stealing them?’

      ‘Really?’ She projected shock. ‘How disgusting. Should I write a note of authenticity?’

      ‘Might be an idea.’ After studying the precious items for some seconds, he put them in his pocket. ‘But I won’t sell them, I’ll pawn them; that way I can retrieve them later.’

      She replied lightly as she flopped down beside him again, ‘I shan’t want them, I told you they mean nothing.’

      Now that everything had been discussed, she cuddled up to him for more kisses. But soon they had to part again, Etta to pace the room in boredom and to survive on the brief visits that her lover paid her whenever he could.

      

      Noon finally came and Marty approached his superior. ‘Mr Wilkinson, please could I go out in my dinner break?’

      ‘What’s so important that it can’t wait until this evening?’ Wilkinson had no reason to forbid it, he just liked to be awkward.

      ‘My aunt’s poorly. Mother asked would I call in on her, see if she needs anything. Of course, I could wait till tonight, but if she were to faint and then fall on –’

      ‘Spare me the long list of ridiculous consequences,’ replied Wilkinson tiredly, but with a smirk of amusement, for at heart he liked Boots. ‘Away with you before I change my mind.’

      ‘Aw thanks, Mr Wilkinson!’ Marty decided to chance his luck. ‘Er, she lives quite far away, could I tack an extra fifteen minutes on –’

      ‘I’ll grant you ten. Any more and you’ll make up for it at the end of your shift.’

      ‘Oh, I will, sir – thank ye kindly!’ Marty rushed off to inspect the rooms.

      His first port of call was to be in what he regarded as a nice area, for if he couldn’t keep Etta in the manner to which she was accustomed then he could at least do his best. A stroke of luck occurred when he saw a friend who gave him a lift in his trap, thus saving him precious minutes. Taking this as a good omen, Marty was therefore pole-axed when his enquiry was rudely forestalled. Yes, there was a notice in the window advertising the vacancy, but it was accompanied by a proviso: No Irish.

      Dismayed, he wasted no time in proceeding to the next address. Alas, these rooms had been taken at ten o’clock that morning. The third place on his list was closer to home in a street despised even by those of his own class. He had regarded it as a last resort but now dashed there, praying that no one would have beaten him to it. Time was running out. He would have to take these rooms even if they were bug-infested.

      He was never to find out, for the rooms had already been taken. By now famished and despondent, he beseeched the woman who had answered his knock, ‘Do you know where there might be anywhere else to let – anywhere at all?’

      She weighed up his smartly uniformed figure before directing him to a public house along the street. ‘I think they’ve a room going.’

      Marty crumpled in despair. The Square and Compass was hardly the sort of place to bring a lady. For a second he considered the gold jewellery in his pocket, yet to be pawned. But no, Etta expected that would pay for the wedding; if he used it to rent somewhere better it might render them unable to marry and then where would he be? With little choice he thanked the woman and went to involve himself in swift negotiation with the landlord.

      His return to the hotel was accompanied by mixed emotions. True, the room was not what he wanted for Etta – classed as furnished, it had the barest minimum of items and was somewhat jaded – but at least it was somewhere they could be together as man and wife. It was only two shillings a week, and they could always move later – a definite possibility for he had achieved an excellent price for the jewellery. The moment his workload allowed it, he dashed to tell her this.

      Confined for hours like a restless zoo animal, unable to lace her own corset and having to leave it off, forced to occupy herself by brushing her hair a hundred times and inexpertly attempting to fashion it into different styles, an intensely bored Etta was relieved to see him back and even more thrilled to hear him voicing success. ‘You’ve found us rooms?’ She flung herself at him.

      ‘Aye!’ He swept her up, then tempered his excited response. ‘Well, room, singular – I’m sorry, everything