The Blind Miller

by Catherine Cookson

  There was an audible groan inside Sarah now. If Mary Hetherington wanted anything to confirm all she had said, Michael turning on her would have proved how right she had been about her daughter-in-law. She said now under her breath, ‘It’s the ice cream cafe on the right.’

  He helped her out of the car, then followed her into the shop.

  Behind the counter stood a tall youth with Arab features and a fairish skin. And talking to him was a woman, a shortish, fat woman. She turned at the approach of customers, then her mouth springing open, she cried, ‘Sarah! Why, Sarah! The day? You’ve come the day?’ She was round the counter and they were holding each other. With tears running down her cheeks Phyllis kept repeating, ‘Sarah! Oh, Sarah!’ She held her at arm’s length. ‘Oh, lass, lass, am I glad to see you!’ Becoming aware of the interest of the only two customers in the shop, she cried, ‘Come on, away up out of this.’ She went to pull Sarah forward; but pausing, she looked at her son, shouting to him as if he was streets away, ‘You remember your Aunt Sarah, don’t you?’

  The young man smiled shyly. ‘Yes…yes. Hello Aunt Sarah.’

  ‘Hello…’ Sarah didn’t remember this one’s name, and Phyllis cried. ‘He’s Joss, the youngest. Look at him, he’s twice my size. But come on, come on…Come on, Michael.’ Her arm extended, she drew Michael after them towards a door at the end of the long cafe. And leading the way up the stairs and into a large living room, expensively if not artistically furnished, she turned again to Sarah. And now like a child she stood in front of her and laid her head on her breast. ‘Oh, Sarah, lass! Oh, Sarah!’ she said softly.

  Sarah was overcome with emotion. Here indeed was a welcome. In the home of her sister who had married an Arab, a man who had always slightly repulsed her. Though Ali had always treated her with kindness, she had never met him but she had thought, How could our Phyllis do it? But she knew that Ali too would welcome her, warmly, sincerely. Life was strange. Oh, indeed, life was strange.

  ‘Here, let me get your things off.’ Phyllis was now pulling at Sarah’s coat. ‘We’ll have a slap-up meal the night. I had it all prepared, in me mind that is, for Wednesday. What happened?’

  Briefly, Sarah told her.

  ‘Aw well, I see your point.’ As Phyllis nodded it was evident to Sarah that she didn’t quite see eye to eye with her in the matter of a street party. If Phyllis had spoken the truth she would have said, ‘Well, I think it was jolly decent of them to think of such a thing.’

  ‘Sit down, Michael. Sit down. And we’ll have a cup of tea…Oh no we won’t.’ She raised her arm in a Hitler-like salute. ‘We’ll have something stronger to begin with, we will that.’

  ‘Not for me, thanks all the same.’ Michael smiled widely at her. ‘I’m driving. And I’ve got to get back. In fact, I’d better be going. But I’ll look in again.’ He nodded his head quickly.

  ‘Oh…Oh, all right then.’ Phyllis didn’t detain him, she wanted Sarah to herself.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ He was speaking to Sarah now in an undertone. ‘I’ll bring Kathleen down.’

  ‘Will you, Michael? Oh, that’s kind of you.’

  ‘The night, if you like.’

  ‘Please. Oh, thanks, Michael, thanks.’

  ‘Don’t you worry.’ He nodded his head down to her. ‘Things’ll pan out, you’ll see. Now don’t you worry.’ He stood looking at her sympathetically for a moment before going to the door where Phyllis was waiting. And as he passed her he motioned to her with his head, and Phyllis, picking up the signal, turned to Sarah and said, ‘I’ll just see him down the stairs in case he breaks his neck. They’re a bit dark. Go in the kitchen and get that tea under way. Make yourself busy, for if I know you, you’d rather tea than anything else.’

  The sisters smiled at each other. The years seemed to have slipped away. Phyllis went out and closed the door, and Sarah went into the kitchen.

  Here again everything was expensive and overcrowded. An outsize fridge, an electric washing machine, an electric food mixer…the lot. And Sarah was glad, glad that Phyllis had the things that stood for success.

  She had made the tea and had it in the living room before Phyllis returned. Phyllis’ face was straight as she entered the room, and, looking across at Sarah, she said quietly, ‘Michael’s told me…You just got in about two? God, what a reception!’ She came and stood close to Sarah, looking up into her face. ‘But, anyway, you’d have likely got it on Wednesday, so it’s over you. She’s a sod. She’s a sod of a woman if ever there’s one. Sit down, lass, sit down and let’s have a drink.’ She pressed Sarah gently into an armchair. ‘Will you have a drop of something in yours?’ She pointed to the tea.

  ‘No, Phyllis, no. Just a good cup of tea, that’s all I want.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve longed for a real good cup of tea.’

  Phyllis turned from her, and going to a cocktail cabinet that stood in the corner of the room, she brought out a bottle, saying as she did so, ‘I could go up there and pulverise that old bitch. I could that, this very minute.’ She came back to the table and poured a generous measure of whisky into her own tea. Then, sitting down, she raised her cup to Sarah, saying, ‘Here’s to us, lass. Here’s to us. We’ll never be parted again. At least not if I can help it. You can stay here until you die. You can have a job if you want it, or you can leave it alone, it’s all up to you. You’ve got nothing to worry about, not any more.’

  ‘Oh, Phyllis.’ Her sister’s kindness was almost as painful as her mother-in-law’s attack. She said again, ‘Oh, Phyllis.’

  Phyllis took a long drink from her cup; then, putting it down on the table, she wiped her mouth with the pad of her thumb, and, looking across the room towards the window, she said, thoughtfully, ‘What I cannot understand is this business about Dan and May. Michael’s just told me. I would have thought he had more sense.’ She looked towards Sarah. But Sarah’s head was bowed; she was staring down into her teacup. Then, lifting the cup to her lips, she took a long drink, as if something warm might soothe the new pain that had entered into her…Dan and May. Well, why not? Dan deserved happiness; Dan had been so good to her; pure gold Dan had been all through. He had been so kind and attentive that she had come to think of Dan as her main support; she had imagined him supporting her, at least morally, through the first strange months of her release. She remembered the time when he had told her that Paul had become a priest and that Kathleen was going to marry Michael. She had given up then, yet all the time a hand had been holding hers…Dan’s hand, and it was this hand that had pulled her back into existence. Whatever happened there would always be Dan. He had even said those words to her, time and again, time and again. When he had come to visit her he had said in some way, ‘You’ve got me; you’ll always have me; I’ll always be there, Sarah.’

  Phyllis was saying, ‘I’m beginning to see the light. She wouldn’t give John a divorce, not for years. That lass had three bairns to him; she was likely in a stew in case he’d walk out on her. You could never tell with a bloke like that. But he did try, I’ll say that much for him. He tried again and again to get May to agree to a divorce, but she wouldn’t bite. But then, just about eighteen months ago, she tells him to go ahead, and early on this year it went through. And now he’s married at last. Aw, Sarah!’ Phyllis put her fingers over her mouth and shook her head slowly. ‘This doesn’t hurt you, does it, to know this?’

  ‘No…no, Phyllis. Don’t worry. Ten years is a long time; you have time to think in ten years. If you haven’t got to worry about eating, or the rent, or firing, or light, you’ve got to put your mind to work in some way. I set mine the task of straightening up my thinking, and learning not to be afraid of being afraid.’

  Phyllis lay back in the corner of the couch and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Sarah. And she said quietly, ‘You’ve changed, you know; you’ve changed, Sarah.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Oh, I don’t.’ Phyllis was bending forward, her hand touching Sarah’s knee. And Sarah covered
it with her own as she said, ‘Come on, it’s your turn. Tell me about the family.’

  ‘Oh, you know all about them; I’ve kept you informed over the years. Things are just the same. They’re all set in the cafes. We did think about taking another, but Ali’s biding his time; things are not as bright as they were a few years ago, you know. Oh, by the way, Ronnie’s in Newcastle with the band this weekend.’

  ‘Oh, is he? I’d love to hear him play.’

  ‘It’s funny that, isn’t it?’ said Phyllis. ‘I mean how he became a pianist…all through that old four-pound piano. You remember?’

  Sarah remembered…the day that she had kissed John, before he had marched off to London. And that dinner time, to take her mind off things, she had told David that she was going down to see a second-hand piano, and to her amazement he had put his foot down and said he was having no piano in the house. ‘Don’t you see, it will only make matters worse,’ he had said as he inclined his head towards the wall. She had written and told Phyllis. And Phyllis had written back to say it was all right, and that, anyway, Ali had bought the piano himself, he thought it would do for the bairn. And it had done for the bairn. Her second eldest son had become a first-class pianist.

  ‘I would never have thought about a piano for meself, or any of us,’ went on Phyllis. ‘But there, it’s fate; we had to have that piano because playing the piano is the only thing Ronnie lives for…’

  For the next hour they talked, as they always had done when they were together; they talked until the light went. Phyllis was pulling herself to her feet, saying, ‘What about a little light on the subject,’ when a voice called from the foot of the stairs, ‘Mum! Mum!’

  ‘What is it now?’ Phyllis went to the door and, opening it, cried, ‘What is it? Can’t you manage without me for five minutes?’

  ‘There’s someone to see you. It’s Mr Blyth.’

  ‘Dan?’ Sarah rose to her feet. Of a sudden she felt nervous, uncomfortable. For the first time in her life she didn’t want to come face to face with Dan.

  Dan paused in the doorway a moment, then came swiftly forward, and, taking her hands in his, said, ‘Why, Sarah! You silly lass, you silly lass. You should have told me.’

  ‘It’s all right, Dan. It’s better this way.’

  ‘Better?’ He withdrew his hands from hers, and his face became solemn, almost stern. ‘Not from what Michael told me on the phone. That woman will go off her head one of these days…But perhaps it’s all for the good…I mean you coming today, Sarah.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps, Dan.’

  He was standing away from her, looking at her now, his attitude slightly uneasy, and Phyllis, quick to sense this, jumped into the awkward breach by exclaiming loudly, ‘Well, you’ll stay to tea, Dan. Now, I’m not taking no.’ She flapped her hand at him, although he had made no sign of refusal to her offer. Then going to the sideboard and taking out a cloth, she spread it over the dining table, talking all the time.

  ‘Well, this is a get-together, the first of many, I hope…and how’s business, Dan?’

  ‘Oh, pretty fair, you know, Phyllis, pretty fair.’

  He was sitting to the side of Sarah now but not looking at her. He kept his eyes on Phyllis as he talked, and it would seem that the state of business at the moment was all that concerned him. ‘We’ve all been making hay in the last few years, but it looks like the harvest’s over. The dole circle’s enclosing the Tyne again, I can feel it. I bet you can an’ all in your weekly returns.’

  ‘Well yes, you’re right there, Dan. I won’t say they’re as shining as they were a couple of years ago.’

  ‘No. And they won’t be for a long time again. A grocer’s shop is a money thermometer; I’ve seen it again and again. And what have we now? Unemployment, getting worse every week. It’s bad when it hits the young ’uns, the lads just out of their time. Just the twenties over again: they do their apprenticeships and then they’re stood off.’

  ‘Still, you’re not in the workhouse yet, Dan.’ Phyllis was smiling at him.

  And he returned her smile with a laugh. ‘No, not yet, Phyllis. On the doorstep, like, looking through the gates as it were, but not quite in.’

  They both laughed together, and Phyllis asked now, ‘Well, what about a mixed grill? I’ve got some nice chops and sausages. What about it?’

  ‘Not for me, Phyllis. A cup of tea and a toasted teacake. Now I wouldn’t turn my nose up at that.’

  ‘How about you, Sarah?’

  ‘I’ll just have the same. No grill, Phyllis. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘Well, you’re customers that’s easily served. And I bet you don’t leave a tip…Mean lot!’ In mock indignation she stalked into the kitchen. And they were left alone.

  Dan, turning fully round in his chair, now looked at this woman who had never, in his eyes, changed one iota from the first time he had seen her across the tea table on her first visit to the house.

  And Sarah was looking at him, at his kindly face, still handsome, but perhaps not so jolly looking as when he was younger. And the more she looked at him the more she ached inside. She was feeling more lost at this moment than she had done since the prison gates had closed behind her.

  ‘How you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, all right, Dan.’

  ‘You’re not. You can’t fool me. Look.’ He leaned forward and gripped her hands. ‘I’ve got something I want to say to you.’

  She closed her eyes for a second; then forced herself to open them and look at him and wait. Dan deserved to be happy.

  She watched his lips move two or three times before they formed words, and then he was speaking hesitantly.

  ‘I wanted to give you this gradually, not spring it on you. I wanted to do things gently, take perhaps a week over it. Not because I wanted to wait a week. No, but because I wanted to give you time to settle in. Time to think. Not feel you were forced to do anything you didn’t want. But now, what Michael told me on the phone has altered everything. I could go up there and slap her mouth for her, I could really…Saying that me and May…’

  ‘It’s all right, Dan.’ She was holding his hands now, and she was looking down at them. ‘It’s all right, I understand.’

  ‘Oh no you don’t. You don’t. That’s what I’m getting at; that’s what I’m trying to say. Look, Sarah, I’d have to be damned hard up for a woman and gone in the head before I’d go within a mile of May. All the way down in the car coming here, you know I really felt frightened. I can see it all now: Mary’s plans. And May’s an’ all. The divorce and everything, after she had sat tight for years. And then her coming up to the shop and wanting to do things upstairs. I cooled her off there, but I still didn’t guess, and I kept on going across on a Sunday to have a word with her—I always have since John left. But my God in Heaven! Men are infants! That’s all we are, infants…Sarah…oh, lass, don’t cry.’ He put his hand up to her face and wiped away the tears.

  ‘It’s all right, Dan, it’s all right.’

  ‘Can I go on?’

  ‘Yes, Dan, yes.’

  He looked down at their joined hands now, and with his voice scarcely above a whisper, he said, ‘I’ve waited a long time. Every day of ten years I’ve waited, knowingly waited, knowing what I was going to say to you the minute you came out. I’ve waited with hope these last ten years. And you might as well know it. I’ve waited from the first minute I saw you, but without hope…Mary was right about one thing, you know, Sarah: you did take us all. But not from her, because she never had us…Now don’t get upset. Aw don’t, you could no more help the lot of us coming to you than a flower can help itself opening to the sun. Anyway, I’ve thought and planned what I would say to you. Sometimes, especially at nights, I got worried. I’m not young any more; I’m ten years older than you; and whereas you hardly look—and I mean this, Sarah—with all you’ve gone through you hardly look a day older than when I first saw you. I could even say you were better looking, if that is possible. Well, what I was going to say to you af
ter you’d got your breath was…Will you have me, Sarah?’ He waited. Then in a small voice: ‘Will you?’

  ‘Dan. Oh, Dan.’

  He slipped from his chair on to his knees by her side, and his arms going about her, he waited. ‘Will you?’

  She nodded slowly.

  His head was on her breast now, as Phyllis’ had been, and she laid her cheek on his hair. She did not ask herself if she loved Dan; she didn’t, not as she had loved David, and again not as she had loved John. But this was a new kind of feeling, a feeling of warmth, of tenderness, a feeling without fear, without worry, a feeling that expressed laughter because she couldn’t see herself living with Dan and not laughing.

  It was as if Dan had read her thoughts, for he said, ‘I’ll give you everything I have, Sarah. There’ll be no fifty-fifty, you can have all I’ve got. I’ve enough money put by to see us out comfortably. I’ve got enough to enable us to laugh.’ He raised his head and looked at her. ‘You were made for laughter, Sarah, laughter and jollity. But you’ve never had it; it’s always been damped down one way or another.’

  ‘Oh, Dan…Dan.’ She was gazing at him, but she could see him only through a thick mist.

  ‘I love you, Sarah.’

  The tears still running, she smiled at him.

  ‘And now I’m going to do something I’ve waited a long time to do.’ And on this he bent forward and kissed her. His lips hard and firm; he kissed her full on the mouth. Then, getting to his feet and holding out his hands, he pulled her upwards and into his arms.

  Holding close, they looked at each other. Then through her tears Sarah laughed. She laughed haltingly but freely for the first time in years. And she said to him, her voice cracking, ‘How’s Mrs Flaherty? Is she still alive?’ She was giving him a lead to make her laugh, more and more, more and more.

  Dan’s head was back now, his laughter filling the room. And so he stayed for a moment before bringing it forward again to look at her and say, ‘Alive and kicking. Oh, the things I’ll tell you about Mrs Flaherty! You’ll split your sides.’