Justice is a Woman

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Justice is a Woman Page 9

by Catherine Cookson


  She wished Christmas was over; she wished she had something definite to do besides soothing Elaine, and arranging flowers, and knitting, knitting, knitting. The only brightness in her days occurred when she climbed the stairs and had a natter with Mike, or when she talked to Joe; not that she often had the chance to talk to Joe, apart from at breakfast, or perhaps at late supper if Elaine had gone to bed. She liked talking to Joe. She liked Joe altogether. She thought he was a fine man, much too good for Elaine.

  Betty rose abruptly from the chair and went hastily from the room and up the stairs to the top floor.

  When she opened the sitting room door she could see no sign of Mike, so she knocked on the bedroom door only to hear a voice from the observatory calling, ‘I’m up here. Who is it?’

  ‘It’s me, Mike.’

  ‘Aw, come on up, lass.’

  She climbed the steep stairs into the observatory, and there he was sitting on a straight-backed chair, a rug round his knees and an oil stove to the side of him, and she said immediately, ‘What on earth brought you up here?’

  ‘The view, lass, as always the view, for on a clear day like this it’s something not to be missed. Look at that.’ He pointed through the wide panes. ‘You can see all the way to the river, even the ships going up and down. Look there.’ He handed her a pair of binoculars and when she put them to her eyes, yes indeed, she could see the different shapes of the ships on the river.

  She stood by his side and turned her head one way and then the other as she said, ‘It is a most extraordinary view.’

  ‘Aye, lass, there’s not a yard of land for miles around you can’t pick out from here. Me old dad knew what he was doing when he built this place.’

  ‘He did indeed! But look’—she bent over him—‘it’s dangerous for you to attempt those stairs alone.’

  ‘I’m all right; I’ve arrived.’ He spread out his arms.

  ‘One of these days you’ll arrive at the bottom.’

  ‘Very likely, lass, very likely, and that’ll put a quick end to it, and a good job an’ all.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not being silly.’ He looked up at her now, his clear blue eyes fastened intently on her. ‘I’m going to ask you a question. In the same position, which would you choose, a quick end or a long drawn-out existence looking at your bones twisting up?’

  She stared back at him, her face solemn-looking as she replied, ‘I don’t know; I wouldn’t be able to answer that truthfully unless I found myself in your position. I only know that your going would leave a gap in a great many lives.’

  ‘You think so?’ He laughed a short amused laugh; then he shook his head at her and said, ‘You’re kind, lass, you’re kind. But you know something? I’ve never been able to use all the fingers on one hand to count the friends I’ve had, the real friends. And I’m not the only one, because you show me the man who says he’s got more than five friends in the world, real friends I’m talking about, mind, and I’ll show you the biggest liar going. A man can have acquaintances by the score; in fact, we all tend to say, Oh, he’s a friend of mine. But no, lass, friends, real friends, are scarcer than the radium that Madame Curie went after. By the way, I’ve been reading about her the day. Great woman, great woman; nearly went mad when her man died. And by the way, that’s scarce too, the element that makes a woman nearly go mad when her man dies.’

  ‘Now you’re being cynical.’

  ‘Oh no, lass, no, I’m not. If she’s young she takes it in her stride; if she’s under fifty she dolls herself up and looks for another man; an’ if she’s over fifty she takes a housekeeping job and hopes.’

  His head went back and his laugh was infectious, and she joined hers to it, and when it died away she dried her eyes and said, ‘You’re an awful man, Mike, but you’re good for one, like some medicines.’

  ‘Epsom salts or cascara?’

  She flapped her hand at him; then taking a seat to the side of him, she said, ‘I’m going out to tea on Wednesday.’

  ‘Aye, where to?’

  ‘The Hall, Lord Menton’s place.’

  He turned to her so quickly that he ricked his neck, and the pain was evident in his face. He gasped before he said, ‘No kiddin’, lass?’

  ‘No kiddin’, Mike.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned! Lady Menton asked you?’

  ‘Oh no, no, not Lady Menton, the one I was telling you about, the eccentric one, Lady Mary Ambers.’

  ‘Oh her; the one you met on the train?’

  ‘Yes; here’s the invitation.’ She pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to him, and as he read it his face stretched in glee as he exclaimed, ‘Well, I’ll be damned! I’ve seen some invitations in me time but that beats all. She must be a character.’

  ‘Yes, she is. I’m rather looking forward to meeting her again.’

  ‘Does…does Elaine know?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I told her.’

  ‘How did she take it?’

  He had poked his face towards her and she hesitated a moment before she smiled and said, ‘Oh, she advised me to refuse it.’

  ‘Aye, she would. But she wouldn’t have given you that advice if she’d been included. You go, me lass. But mind, I’m going to tell you something.’ He wagged his finger at her. ‘If the conversation comes round to this house and me, likely you won’t come back here, because me name’s mud, as was me father’s afore me. No, no, his name was clarts, which means the same, but it’s a thicker kind, you know.’ He jerked his head at her now, saying, ‘By! I won’t be able to wait until you get back to hear all about it. But mind you keep your end up; don’t let them floor you.’ He now put his head on one side and paused before he ended, ‘But I don’t think they could. Nor do I think they would want to; I don’t think they’d want to floor you, ’cos you’re not prickly.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t know me.’

  ‘Don’t I? I think I do. I knew all about you within a few days of your coming. I know people, Betty, I know people and’—he grinned mischievously at her now as he whispered, ‘I know something about you that you try to keep hidden.’

  ‘You do?’ She was whispering back at him.

  ‘Aye, I do. You’ve got a temper, but you’ve got it well under control. There’s two Bettys, one under the skin and one on top of it.’

  She didn’t return his grin but she stared at him for a moment in silence before looking away and saying, ‘You see too much, Mike; you’re uncomfortable; you see too much.’

  ‘Aw, lass’—he nearly upset himself from the chair as he reached out and grabbed her hand—‘I mean no offence, lass. I wouldn’t offend you for the world. It was just that I wanted you to know that I recognise the depth in you. You’re so damn pleasant to everybody that folks take you for granted. You’re the oil on the wheels that makes things run smoothly. You’re the hearty good sort. That’s on the outside. But underneath, there’s you, the real one…I know you, you see, I know you.’

  They were holding each other’s gaze, and he was also holding her wrist with one hand and she was still holding his arm with her other where she had tried to steady him. She swallowed deeply in her throat, sniffed, blinked her eyes a number of times, then said briskly, ‘Come on; it’s about time you got yourself down those stairs.’

  After a moment’s hesitation he pulled himself to his feet, and, standing by her side, he laughed softly as he said, ‘I’m stooped a bit, but I’m still taller than you.’

  Again their gaze held, but she made no reply; she understood the meaning behind the words: he might be crippled yet he still considered himself a man. And indeed he was. Like herself, there was another being underneath his skin.

  ‘Now look, stop arguing, Betty, you’re going in style.’

  ‘But it isn’t a mile down the road, Joe, and I don’t know how long I’ll be there.’

  ‘Well, if you’re there until tomorrow morning David’ll wait for you.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous. It isn’t as if th
e roads were wet, and I like walking. You know I do. And what if I can’t get away before five? What’ll you do to get back without the car?’

  ‘You let me worry about that. Do as you’re told for once.’

  ‘Oh, that’s funny.’

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ Joe looked across the breakfast table towards her and said quietly, ‘You’re at everybody’s beck and call; you never seem to have a minute to yourself.’

  ‘How do you know? You’re not here all day.’

  ‘I have spies.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt about that.’

  ‘But they’re nice spies.’

  ‘And I’ve no doubt about that either.’

  As they smiled at each other, he said quietly, ‘I’m very glad you’re here, Betty; Elaine’s been as different again since you came. As she said, and rightly, there was no-one here who spoke her language. You will stay on until the baby comes?’

  ‘If she wants me to.’

  ‘Oh, she wants you to. We all want you to, particularly himself. You’ve scored a bull’s-eye up there, I might tell you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t go on.’ She flapped her large square hand at him. ‘By the sound of it I’m qualifying for stripes.’

  ‘Well, you could say something like that.’

  ‘Nonsense! Anyway, about the car…’

  ‘No more about the car. It’ll be at the door at five minutes to three and David’ll deliver you on the dot.’

  ‘You’re not thinking about buying a uniform for him, are you?’

  ‘Well, that’s an idea. I hadn’t thought of it, but it is an idea.’ He got to his feet now, glanced at his watch, compared it with the marble clock standing in the middle of the marble mantelpiece, altered the hands a fraction, then said, ‘Well, I must be off. Goodbye, Betty.’

  ‘Goodbye, Joe; and thanks for the car.’

  He turned from the door and grinned at her; then, jerking his chin upwards, he said. ‘We’ll let ’em see.’

  She rose from the table and walked to the dining room window that looked out onto the end of the drive, and she stood there for about five minutes until she saw him descending the steps. She watched him pause at the bottom and look up into the sky, then pull the peak of his trilby hat firmly down over his brow and turn up the collar of his coat before stepping into the car and taking the wheel.

  She stood at the window until the car disappeared from her view down the drive, then she turned about and slowly drew her teeth tightly over her bottom lip.

  At three o’clock exactly David drew the Rolls to a stop at the bottom of the broad stone steps which led up to a stone balcony and thence to a front door, unusually shaped in that it had a rounded top, and as he opened the car door Betty discerned a twinkle in his eye.

  After helping her to alight, he walked before her up the steps, pulled the iron handle attached to the wall, and waited until the door was opened before bowing slightly and returning down the steps to the car.

  The footman was not in livery but he wore a black suit and a white collar and tie, which did nothing to disguise his position, for, his head slightly to the side and his voice holding a definite note of hauteur, he said, ‘Miss Hughes-Burton?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re expected. Would you please come this way?’

  ‘Thank you.’ They were only two words but their inflexion brought the footman’s head to a more level position.

  Betty now followed him through a small hall, the floor of which was tiled and resembled that of a butchers’ shop; then they entered the main hall. Here the walls from floor to ceiling were lined with a dark wood and, as if this wasn’t depressing enough, animals’ heads, mostly horned, seemed to protrude from the panelling in every part of the room that wasn’t taken up by the windows, doors and the staircase.

  The floor was covered in Persian rugs so worn in parts that they wrinkled under her feet.

  She was now walking down a short wide corridor, and at the end of it the footman stopped, tapped twice on the door, opened it and announced in precise tones, ‘Miss Hughes-Burton.’

  ‘Oh, there you are. There you are. Come in. Do you know that your reply didn’t come until eleven o’clock this morning? Come along, sit down; you look frozen. This is the worst part of the country in the world. Do you know that? Open your coat or you won’t find the good of it when you go out…Bring in the tea, Rogers, and don’t stint on the cakes.’

  During all this Betty had walked up the long drawing room and taken the proffered seat, the while unobtrusively taking in the room. In a way it was on a par with the hall; the only difference being that it was lighter, for this room, too, was a showcase for trophies and pieces of elaborate china and furniture, all representing travel. The china cabinets held rows of silver cups, whilst small tables showed off groups of ivories and Chinese figures and ornaments; the only homely touch in the room was the enormous Chesterfield suite, which had once been beautiful, having been upholstered in green velvet with a gold tasselled fringe, and which, in its faded old age, still gave off an air of comfort.

  ‘How are you?’ Betty inclined her head towards her hostess who, pulling a large woollen shawl closer about her shoulders, exclaimed briefly, ‘Bored…bored to death. I would have been gone weeks ago but James is on his last legs and Sarah wants me to stay till the end. Why, I don’t know; we fight like cat and dog. She’s dull, nothing up top. She now tapped her forehead, and all Betty could do was to remain silent and prevent herself from laughing outright and asking herself how a human being came to be like this, so utterly unself-conscious and oblivious to the age in which she lived, as was strikingly evident in her dress, which was even more old-fashioned than her travelling outfit had been, for it had a number of overlapping skirts. She couldn’t see the bodice because of the shawl, but the cuffs of the dress were at least six inches deep and were fastened with a long row of pearl buttons.

  ‘How are you getting on along there?’ The tousled grey head was jerked in the direction of the drawing-room door.

  ‘Oh, very well.’

  ‘Your sister good to you?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes, very good.’

  ‘They’re a funny family she’s married into, so Sarah says.’

  ‘In what way do you mean?’ Betty’s tone was cool now.

  ‘Oh well, you hear things, just rumours. And he, the father, coarse man, isn’t he? Coarse man.’

  ‘I find him a very intelligent man.’

  ‘Intelligent, do you? Well! well! it isn’t often you find coarse men intelligent. I prefer coarse men; they’re always more interesting than polite, gentlemanly ones. Most of those turn out to have no guts. Two of my husbands were coarse, the first two.’ She bounced her head now towards Betty, then exclaimed loudly, ‘Ah, here it comes,’ as the door opened and the footman wheeled in a trolley.

  When the man had brought the trolley to the side of the couch the old lady peered down on it; then, picking up a minute sandwich, she opened it. ‘Cucumber. Ah! Cucumber always gives me indigestion; haven’t you got anything else in the kitchen but cucumber?’ She was staring up at the footman with her piercing gaze, and he replied in an almost soothing tone, ‘There are egg and tomato below, milady.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, that’s all right then. Just leave it; Miss Burton will pour out. You’re used to pouring out tea, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Betty smiled faintly. ‘Yes, I’m used to pouring out tea.’

  ‘Well, get on with it; I’m as dry as a fish. They had baked ham for lunch; it was salty.’

  Betty poured out the tea from the heavy silver teapot into the paper-thin china cups, and when she handed Lady Ambers her cup the old woman said, ‘Thanks, me dear, thanks. Oh, it is nice to have tea poured out for you and to have company. I miss company; someone to talk to. Have a sandwich. The egg are at the bottom. You heard what he said.’

  ‘I’ll have a cucumber one.’

  ‘Please yourself; it’s your digestion.’

  Betty had barely sat dow
n and was about to take her first sip of tea when she was startled by her hostess exclaiming, ‘It must be a bloody life having to say, “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am” to people. I don’t mean footmen and butlers and the household staff. No, no; not them; they’re servants, they were bred to it, as we were bred to accept their service. But I mean people like you, an intelligent, refined woman having to run after old bitches. And there are some old bitches about, I know that. I remember your telling me on the train that you were with Mrs Boulton-Westbrook. Well, if she was anything like her sister, I pity you. She had a companion for years; treated her like a doormat. Then when the poor thing took ill she let her go into a home, not the kind for distressed ladies but some place run by a council. You know the kind…well, perhaps you don’t, but they’re awful. I opened one once, and as I said to the mayor at the time, I wished to God I was closing it; terrible place, green-painted walls and wooden chairs. I wouldn’t treat anyone like that. I’ve never had a companion up to now, never met anyone I’d want to live with, not any woman anyway, but now I think it’s time I had a companion. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since I met you on the train. I like you, girl, I like you.’

  She leaned forward and poked the blunt-edged silver tea-knife into Betty’s arm. ‘You’ve got a kind face and a sympathetic manner, but at the same time, I can tell, you wouldn’t stand any nonsense from me. Now would you?’

  As she grinned widely Betty, too, leaned forward and placed her tea cup on the trolley before bowing her head. She could hardly contain her laughter from bursting forth. Then she did let it ripple, but not to its full extent, as the old lady said, ‘Do you want to laugh? Well, laugh; it’s good to hear people laugh. I used to be able to make people laugh at one time. They’d always ask me to parties. I was the life and soul of any do but…’ She suddenly stopped talking, placed her half-eaten sandwich down on the plate, let her head fall against the back of the couch; then she parted her lips wide, lifted up her bottom set of teeth with her tongue and extracted what might have been a crumb of bread or a piece of egg from her gums, wiped her finger on the tea napkin and said slowly, ‘But there’s nothing much to laugh at any more, especially here in this house. Sarah and James are old before their time. He’s not eighty yet, and he’s in his dotage, and Sarah only seventy-five and acting as if she were coming up to her century. And that’s why’—she now brought her head forward and fixed her gaze on Betty as she ended—‘I would like you to be my companion.’

 

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