Joe stood for a moment looking down at his father, whose eyes were now directed to his knees, each cupped by a gnarled hand, and he asked quietly, ‘What have you been doing while I’ve been away? Did you finish the ship?’
‘The ship?’ Mike’s head came up. Then he shook it. ‘Somehow, I hauled myself up to the glasshouse’—he jerked his head towards the steep open staircase that rose from the end of the room—‘and did a lot of gazing about me an’ quite a bit of thinkin’.’ He nodded slowly as he stared into Joe’s eyes and repeated, ‘Aye, quite a bit of thinkin’.’
‘What about, may I ask?’
‘You.’
‘Me?’
‘Aye; I said you. You and your marriage and your future. Look at me.’
‘I’m looking.’
‘I mean, look at me an’ me life: what have I done with it? Where’s it landed me? Fifty years of age. I should be at the height of me power, but here I am, a prisoner of me bones.’
‘You could be helped.’ Joe’s voice was soft. ‘I’ve told you, there are spas and places…’
‘And I’ve told you, lad, I’m goin’ to no bloody spas, sittin’ with me belly hangin’ over me pants and seeing meself pictured in dozens of other bellies around me, and havin’ nurses, young ’uns at that, seeing to you as if you were senile. No, it’s not for me. What I’ve got I’ll put up with. As Graham says, I’m me own worst enemy because I’ve voted for a slow death. The latest is, he’s talking of putting pins in me hips. By the way, we’ve never talked of the person in question. Where is she?’
‘She’s having a bath and a cup of tea. She told me to tell you she’ll be up very shortly.’
‘Oh, I’m thrilled.’
‘Father!’
‘All right, all right, I’ll behave myself. I promise I’ll come out with nothing worse than bloody in her hearing.’
‘Do you like her?’
‘I don’t know yet, lad. What have I seen of her in order to answer that question? You met her three months ago on that trip to London when you went about the Bakelite for that order. Then she came down here once for a weekend, during which time I spoke to her twice; no, no, I’m tellin’ a lie, three times. Then what do you do? You spring it on me you’re going to be married by special licence in London and take your honeymoon on your holiday. And now you ask me, do I like her?…Do you like her?’
‘What!’ The word came out on a laugh.
‘Just what I said, do you like her?’
‘Oh, Father, don’t be silly. Why ask such a damn fool question?’
‘That isn’t a damn fool question. And you’re no damn fool; you know what I mean all right. There’s all the difference in the world atween likin’ and lovin’. Oh, you love her, I’ve no doubt about that. She’s got into your blood. I saw that straightaway. But now the question you’ve got to ask yourself is, do you like her? ’Cos let me tell you this, lad, liking’s much more important in marriage than love, and you’ll find that out. But’—he sighed deeply—‘what the hell am I goin’ on about. What we should be putting our minds to at the present moment is not liking or loving but how we’re going to keep the shops going if they start getting at our blokes; so go on, get yourself off and down to see Geordie.’
Joe turned and made his way towards the door, saying on a laugh now, ‘All right, I’ll go straight down, but you’ll have to look after my wife.’
He had opened the door and had one foot on the landing when his father spoke again, but softly: ‘Joe.’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t make the same mistakes I did, lad. No matter what happens, don’t do it.’
They stared at each other for a moment across the space before Joe closed the door and walked to the top of the attic stairs. Before descending them he stood with his head bent, his teeth biting the side of his lip as he looked down them. Don’t make the same mistakes I did, his father had said. By God! no. Oh no, he wouldn’t do that. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t do that.
Two
‘All right, darling; but promise me, now promise me faithfully you will take me into Newcastle tomorrow night and do a show and perhaps dance. Oh yes, let’s dance.’ Elly put her hand across the dining room table and caught his.
’All right, I promise, a show or a dance, perhaps both, that’s if you behave yourself tonight and be very tactful and don’t turn your nose up at anything you might see or hear.’
‘As if I would.’
‘Yes, as if you would. All right then, I’ll put you to the test: we’ll call in at Dan Egan’s house before we go to the meeting.’
‘That’s the man who never stops talking; Brooks’ father-in-law?’
‘David’s father-in-law.’ He held up a finger as if chastising her.
‘Oh Joe!’ She shook her head at him now. ‘I can’t get used to calling the servants by their Christian names. And there’s something else, we really must do something about Ella.’ She was bending forward, whispering now: ‘She can’t be called Ella when you will insist on calling me Elly. Why, this morning when you called across the hall, she came running from the kitchen. I’ve told you, it won’t do; she must answer to something entirely different, such as Annie or Jane.’
‘Well, you’ll have to tell her, won’t you?’ He cut into a piece of Stilton, placed it on a dry biscuit, then bit on it before adding, ‘But I know what her reactions will be. Eeh! ma’am, what! change me name? I’ve always been called Ella. I don’t see why I should change it. No, no; I don’t see why I should.’
‘She wouldn’t dare.’
He stopped chewing and looked at his wife. His expression was straight, rather stiff now, and all banter had gone from his voice as he said, ‘She would dare. I’ve told you, Elly, these people are individuals.’
‘They’re servants.’
‘Yes, they might be, as we’re all servants one way or another, but they’re not the bowing and scraping kind you’re used to. I warned you, I told you.’
Reaching out towards the cheese tray, she took up a small piece of Cheshire and almost slapped it on to her plate as she said, ‘As I see it, when you’re paying people they should be made to conform to set standards.’
‘This isn’t London or Huntingdon, this is the North East of England.’
‘Yes, yes, I know.’ She was nodding her head briskly now. ‘You’ve told me that so often in the past week that I’ve no doubt about it at all now. Definitely it is the North East of England, and it’s more foreign, I might tell you, than a foreign country; they even speak a different language.’
Now he was laughing, his head bent, his chin gripped in his fist, and he nodded as he said, ‘You’re right there, but if you study hard you’ll soon learn it; they’ll be only too eager to help you, all of them.’
‘Oh, don’t be facetious.’
His head came up, the smile left his face again and he stared at her for a moment before he muttered, ‘It’s about time we were going; that is, if you’re still coming with me?’
She looked up at him, unblinking. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you…in a moment,’ she said and rang the small bell that was to her hand on the table. When the door opened and Duffy entered, his tall, lean body seeming to act as merely a peg for his dark suit, she turned her head slightly towards him and said, ‘Send…Ella in to me, will you please?’
Duffy did not answer, ‘Yes, ma’am’, but stared at her for a second before turning about and going out.
‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Joe.
‘What?’ As she spoke the door opened and Ella entered.
Ella took after her Aunty Mary in many ways, the most obvious being her smallness and inclination to plumpness. She was also pretty. She came right up to the edge of the table and, looking at her mistress, she said, ‘You wanted me, ma’am?’
‘Yes.’ Elaine’s voice was smooth, even sweet. ‘It’s…it’s about your name.’
‘Me name, ma’am?’
‘Yes, your name. You see it’s all very confusing, because
my husband’—she glanced towards Joe—‘insists on abbreviating my own name which, I’m sure you have noticed, sounds similar to yours, and so in future we will call you by another name. Which would you like? Jane, Mary, Annie?’
Ella had moved one step away from the table. She now glanced towards the young master, who was standing at the sideboard with his back to her; then she looked at her new mistress again, and her face no longer looked pretty but pugnacious as she said, ‘Me name’s Ella, ma’am. I’ve always been Ella and I don’t fancy being called Mary or Jane or Annie, but if it’s got to be, then himself will have to tell me. But I doubt if he will, as he always calls me Ella.’
The mistress and the maid stared at each other and it was evident that the mistress could hardly believe her ears. She turned now and looked towards her husband and Joe said grimly, ‘Leave it.’
There was a full minute’s silence in the room before Ella turned about and marched away, and the door had hardly closed behind her before Joe burst out, ‘I told you! I warned you! You’re getting off on the wrong foot: it’s no good trying to get your own way with a silver tongue; they can see through it; and once you get their backs up you won’t be able to get near them; the Roman Wall will be easier to get through, I keep telling you.’
‘Yes, you keep telling me. We’ve been married just over three weeks and all you have done is tell me what I must do in order to survive here. Now you can tell me something. Who’s master in this house, and who is to be mistress of it? Or, if there is to be no mistress, just a master, again I ask you, who is it?’
There was another long pause before Joe said gruffly, ‘As long as my father’s alive he’s the master here: he built this house, he loves the place, even if it has turned into his prison. Does that answer your question?’
‘And what is your position?’
He thrust his jaw forward and brought his teeth together, slanting his gaze at her before saying, ‘Just the son, and the manager of the works, and it’s likely to stay that way for a very long time because arthritis kills slowly. And that’s how I would want it.’
He moved towards her now and gently drew her to her feet, and when they were face to face, his deep brown eyes looking into her clear grey ones, and his tone once again soft and placating, he said, ‘But there’s no question as to who’s mistress.’ His arms went about her and his lips brushed themselves backwards and forwards over her brow as he murmured, ‘Play it softly, dearest. Try to play it softly.’
Looking into her eyes again, he said brightly, ‘Come on; let’s go over to David’s. You’ve never seen his house; nor have you met Hazel. She came back from visiting her mother’s last night. Come on now, and let them see you as I see you. Let them all see you as I see you and then they’ll love you; they won’t be able to help themselves.’
He pressed her tightly to him, and after a moment she responded and they kissed and made up for the second time since she had come into the house five days ago.
The Cottage, as it was called, was situated to the side of the entrance gates. It was actually the original house that had been built two hundred years previously and had taken its name from the land known as Fell Rise, but when Mike Remington created his dream twenty-five years before, he had transferred the name to his house and the original Fell Rise had been renamed The Cottage.
It was a pretty place, both inside and out. Black timbers patterned the outside, and inside, the thick beams that ran down the middle of the living room ceiling were still in excellent condition, with hardly a trace of worm in them. And the furniture, too, was in keeping, being mostly of black oak, with upholstery of chintz.
Hazel Egan had married David Brooks a year before when they were both twenty-three years old. That Hazel, a good-looking, tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed girl should marry a half-caste, be he ever such a decent chap, was regarded with disapproval, not only in the Beulah pit village but over most of Fellburn too; and it was said that she wouldn’t have been driven to it if she hadn’t got herself into the family way. Yet, as the months went by, it became clear that she had not married David for that reason, for as yet there was no sign of a pregnancy.
Their courtship had been long and furtive. In their early childhood days they had gone to the same school, and then to the surprise of many, and condemnation of not a few, David had passed for the Grammar School, and their ways had divided. But only for a time. Ever since they were both fifteen years old they knew that they loved each other, and when they were twenty they knew that because of David’s father’s objection, and the strong objection, not only of her own parents, but of her elder brothers, they might never be able to marry. Yet they still went on loving and hoping.
In 1924, when David’s father died, one big obstacle was removed, and it was then that Hazel took it into her own hands to remove the rest, and so early in 1925 they were married in a registry office, which in itself added to the disgrace of marrying a coloured man. But what did it matter? As Hazel said to her mother, when you turn out the light, all men are black.
She now stood encircled in David’s arm to the side of the window from which they could see to the far end of the drive, and without taking her gaze from the window, she said, ‘What makes you think I won’t like her?’
‘She’s uppish.’
‘Is that why you don’t like her?’
‘No. I don’t like her because she doesn’t like me; she sees me as a black man.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She pressed closer to him. ‘Anyway, you’re not a black man, you’re a nice brown man, and it wouldn’t matter to me if you were as black as Cherry Blossom boot polish, although they do make a nice brown one, you know.’
As she giggled he turned his head and looked at her. There was no smile on his face but his voice was deeply tender as he murmured, ‘Why should I be so lucky, while he lands up with her?’
‘What are you going on about, what do you mean? She likely suits him.’
‘Wait till you see her…Ah, here they come. He said they’d drop in, but I didn’t think he’d bring it off.’ He now sprang back from the window, pulling her with him and, pointing to the chintz-covered couch set at an angle to the side of the fireplace, he hissed, ‘I’m sitting there reading the paper and when the knock comes on the door I’ll call casually, “Come in,” and make out I’m very surprised to see them. And you are in the kitchen making a pot of tea, and you put your head round the door and you’re very surprised to see them an’ all.’
For a moment they leant against each other and smothered their laughter; then David took up his position on the couch and Hazel ran into the kitchen.
When the knock came on the door, David called casually, ‘Come in,’ and when it opened and he saw Joe stand aside to allow his wife to enter, he sprang up from the couch with well feigned surprise, saying, ‘Oh. Oh, I didn’t expect you, ma’am. But come in; you’re welcome.’ Then turning his head to the side, he called, ‘Hazel!’ and Hazel answered him from the kitchen, saying, ‘Just a minute, I’m mashing the tea.’
‘Oh!’ Hazel appeared in the doorway to the sitting room; then coming slowly forward, she looked at the wife of her husband’s employer, the employer who was also his lifelong friend, and she saw immediately what David meant.
‘This is Hazel, my wife, ma’am.’
‘How do you do?’
‘How do you do, ma’am? Won’t you sit down?’
‘Thank you.’
There was a moment’s silence while they all became seated. Then Joe, looking at David, said, ‘Before going to the meeting in the Lodge I thought I’d like to have a word with Dan.’ He now turned his gaze towards Hazel and said, ‘Your father knows how the land lies better than any man. Our men have a proposal to make, but I doubt if it will be acceptable as they’re not in the miners’ good books and, of course, it’s to be understood, so I thought we’d call round at your home and discuss…’
‘Oh!’ Hazel was flapping her hand in Joe’s direction now and laughing as she said, �
�On Friday night! Oh, you know what our house is like on a Friday night; it’s the gathering of the clans before they go to the club.’ She turned now and looked towards Elaine, explaining, ‘You see, ma’am, there are eleven of us and as yet there are only three married, including myself, but the other two, my married brothers, they always come home on a Friday night with their wives and children. There are five grandchildren and it’s like bedlam. You won’t be able to get in.’
‘Oh, I’m not that big; I’m sure I’ll be able to squeeze in somewhere,’ said Elaine.
As they laughed they looked towards the seated figure, her grey skirt riding well above her knees, the short matching coat lying flat on her chest like a schoolgirl’s blazer, and the red toque-shaped straw hat pulled well down over her pale brow and ears. The shape of her face seemed to exaggerate the height of the hat, for in itself it was long; the skin was clear and very delicately tinted near the cheekbones but showed no tinge of red because that was unfashionable; the nose was small for the length of the face, and straight, the nostrils thin. It was the mouth that was the most striking; it was beautifully shaped and when she spoke both her bottom and upper lips spread wide to show in a complete oval her perfect white even teeth.
The picture that Elaine should have presented was of a beautiful twenty-two-year-old young lady and, because of her colouring and slight figure, appearing much younger than her years, but the impression that she actually created was of someone much older, someone who was entirely in command of herself: in short, a sophisticated woman. The look that she now turned on her husband could have been taken merely as one of interest, but behind it was hidden her sheer amazement at how he was addressing the chauffeur-gardener, for he was saying, ‘I’m sorry, David, to drag you out after tea, but if I leave the old lady outside the Lodge for any length of time those little beggars will have all her clothes off.’
Justice is a Woman Page 3