Justice is a Woman

by Catherine Cookson

  Betty turned about and left the room; but outside the door she stood for a moment, her head bent, her eyes closed, her fingers moving backwards and forwards across her brow. The self-effacing attendant. Yes, he, too, had hit the nail on the head; that’s what she was, the self-effacing attendant.

  She liked Mike. Yes, she liked him very much, but too often in his presence she felt she was in an operating theatre being roughly dissected. She was getting weary of it all. It was as if she were living on a battlefield in the midst of four different camps: the camp in the kitchen; the camp on the first floor; and this one-man camp up here; then the camp down in the cottage. And it was strange, but that camp, which was apart from the house and which appeared to be the happiest, was the cause of most of the dissent in the house.

  At this moment she had the overwhelming desire to be with Lady Mary, for then she would have to please but one. A self-effacing attendant she might be, but with Lady Mary she’d be at the beck and call of someone who’d pay adequately for the duties of an attendant, not someone who’d make her feel she should consider it her good fortune to serve, as did her sister.

  She had just reached the landing when she saw Elaine and Joe descending the main staircase. They were walking close together: he was looking down at her and she up at him. As Mike had said, it would be a slow awakening…Perhaps he would never awake.

  Well, she hoped she was big enough to wish that he might sleep for ever, but human nature being what it was, that might be difficult too.

  All life was difficult, and it wasn’t today or yesterday she had discovered that.

  PART THREE

  One

  It was Christmas Eve, 1928. The house was ablaze with lights. There was a roaring fire in every room and to keep these supplied young Pat Collins, David’s helper in the garden, had been hard at it all day, carrying wood and coal from the ground-floor rooms to those in the attic.

  The hall was hung with holly and mistletoe and in between the two long windows of the drawing room stood a seven-foot Christmas tree decorated with candles and glass baubles, and around the tub in which it stood was an array of gaily wrapped parcels.

  There was an air of excitement running through the whole house, and Ella, hurrying into the kitchen, said to Mary, ‘You know something? The feelin’s more like New Year’s Eve than Christmas.’

  Mary was putting the finishing touches with an icing tube to a number of small cakes, and she said offhandedly, ‘I’ve told you, like last year, haven’t I, because she’s from the south: they don’t pay very much attention to New Year; it’s Christmas with them, whereas we only think Christmas is for the bairns, and New Year’s the time for jollification.’

  ‘It’s a pity he’s not really old enough to appreciate the tree. By! she’s done it bonny. I’ll say that for her. And it looks as if we’re in for some good presents an’ all.’

  ‘I’ve told you not to be nosy, Ella, haven’t I? I told you to keep away from that tree, didn’t I?’

  Ella turned to where Duffy was sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair to the side of the fire, his feet on the fender, a pipe in his mouth, and she laughed at him as she flicked her hand in his direction, saying, ‘Aw! Uncle Jimmy, what do you think I’ve got eyes for? And speaking of eyes—’ She lowered her voice and moved to the table and, leaning across it towards her aunt, she exclaimed in a loud whisper, ‘There’ll be some eyes on her bust the night.’

  ‘Bust?’ Mary stopped squeezing the icing tube and said, ‘Bust? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Oh, what am I talking about? It’s a pity you can’t see it; she’ll have a cloak on when she comes downstairs. Eeh!’ She put her hand over her mouth now as she straightened up and, looking to the side, nodded at her uncle as she finished, ‘You’d fall flat on your face if you saw her, Uncle Jimmy.’

  Duffy had taken the pipe from his mouth and slowly he brought one foot after the other off the fender before he asked, ‘What do you mean, fall flat on me face?’

  ‘Her chest, her bust’—Ella now pointed with a stiff finger to each of her breasts—‘they’re practically hanging out.’

  ‘Ella! Mind your tongue.’

  ‘It’s a fact, Aunty Mary: she’s got her frock on and there’s hardly any top to it at all; it’s a square neck and there they are like plum duffs sticking out. I…I stared at them through the mirror and she said, “Is there anything wrong, Jane?”’—she mimicked the question—‘an’ I said, “No, ma’am. No, ma’am.” And when I left the room I heard Mr Joe come out of the dressing room and she said something to him, but I couldn’t catch it, and then she laughed…She’s mucky.’

  ‘I’ve told you to watch your tongue. You’ll come out with something one of these days an’ she’ll overhear you.’

  ‘Let her…Eeh!’ She reached out, picked up a small broken cake from the table and after biting into it she shook her head slowly and looked to the far end of the kitchen as she said, ‘I don’t know what Mr Joe’s thinking about to let her go out like that where other men will see her.’

  Mary now lifted the tray of small cakes and, turning about, walked towards the sideboard with them, and as she passed her husband they exchanged glances that said a great deal.

  Ella was about to speak again when the kitchen door opened and Nellie McIntyre entered, and she, coming straight to Ella’s side, asked in a shocked tone, ‘Did you see her?’

  ‘Aye, I did. What do you think of her?’

  ‘What do I think?’ Nellie shook her head until her white starched cap slipped to the side; then looking from one to the other, she brought out, ‘I’ll tell you what I think, an’ I’m not going to apologise to you, Mr Duffy, for saying it. I think that if she had shown her bairn her breasts like she’s showing them off the night, it wouldn’t have cried so much.’

  There was a moment’s silence before Ella, slapping Nellie on the shoulder, burst out laughing and said, ‘Eeh! you! But you’re right, you’re right. She is, Aunty Mary, she is, she’s right.’

  Mary brought her plump body up straight, placed her folded hands at the line where her waist should be, then said, ‘There’s nobody arguing with either of you, but it would be advisable to keep your opinions to yourselves and remember that you’re in a good job and also that her word goes.’

  The two girls looked at each other, sighed, and together they left the kitchen, but in the hall Nellie took hold of Ella’s arm and pulled her along the corridor and into the morning room. There, closing the door behind her, she whispered, ‘I heard Miss Betty on at her.’

  ‘About her breasts?’

  ‘Aye. Well, I think it was, ’cos she said, “It’s only a small dinner party, Elaine, and the Leveys are very conservative,” and then the missis said, “It’s about time they were livened up then, isn’t it?” Then Miss Betty said, “This isn’t London, Elaine,” and the missis answered, “No, you’re right; they’re so…provincial, they make me sick. If you don’t make your own life here you’ll die.” Then Miss Betty said, “Has Joe seen it?” and the missis answered, “Of course he has.” Then Miss Betty said, “But not on you. Don’t aggravate him, Elaine.” And then the missis laughed and said, “My breasts aggravate him! Oh, what do you know, Betty?” Then I had to scoot across the landing because Miss Betty came out of the room in a hurry.’

  ‘They’re not taking Miss Betty with them then?’

  ‘No. No, well, she never goes out with them, does she?’

  ‘No, she doesn’t. But this being Christmas Eve and a party…’

  ‘She’s got a new frock on.’

  ‘Huh! Miss Betty?’

  ‘Aye, it’s woollen, it’s a soft pink colour. She looks nice in it…well, as nice as she’ll ever look. You can’t believe they’re sisters, can you?’

  ‘No, one looking like a doll an’ t’other like a horse. But I know which I’d rather have if I had to have me pick.’

  ‘Me too. Oh aye, me too.’

  They nodded at each other, then like two conspirator
s, they crept from the room.

  It was nine o’clock. The house was quiet. They had been gone for over an hour now, having left amidst laughter and Joe saying, ‘I wish you were coming with us.’

  She hadn’t believed him; nor had she reminded him that she hadn’t been asked, but she’d thought it was kind of him to say that. He was kind, was Joe. Behind his explosive and somewhat irrational behaviour there was a deep thoughtfulness. It was this very thoughtfulness that seemed to make him irrational. Mary, Jane and Nellie had gone to the village to visit their people. It would have been quite some walk, but David had come back from Egan’s house, where he had left Hazel, to take them in, so there was only Duffy, Mike, the baby and herself left in the house, and it felt strangely empty.

  She had brought her own supper from the kitchen, but instead of eating it in the dining room she had taken it into the drawing room and eaten it as she sat to the side of the blazing fire, while all the time her eyes were held by the Christmas tree.

  Next year, Martin would be running round the tree; he’d be playing on the floor with trains and motor cars and building brick houses; in her mind’s eye she could see him quite plainly. She loved the child; even feeling at times he was more hers than Elaine’s. If caring and attention could be taken to imply parenthood, then the child was hers. And yet she had no doubt that Elaine loved him, at least when he was happy and smiling.

  After finishing her supper she lay back in the chair and gazed about her. How many Christmases had she spent alone? How many Christmases had she spent in other people’s homes? Through how many Christmases had she experienced the intensified feeling of aloneness? A while back Mike had said that we couldn’t all be Christs and love everybody. He was so right, you could really love only one person. There were different kinds of love, but the love that she wanted, and the love that she needed, could be supplied by only one person.

  She recalled the Christmas Eve before last very clearly. She had been in her cousin Kathryn’s cottage and had experienced a deep longing to meet someone who really needed her. She hadn’t thought: I wish I could fall in love, because that would have been disastrous. But here was another Christmas Eve and her situation was disastrous.

  She pulled herself to her feet and, walking slowly to the side of the fireplace, she looked at her reflection in the circular gold-framed mirror hanging there. Her hair looked nice: it was a dark tawny-brown colour, coarse, and like all coarse hair had a natural wave in it. Her eyes were brown and round, but they weren’t large; her nose was straight, but it was large; her mouth was her best feature, it was big too but the lips were full and shaped quite nicely. But these large features needed a large frame and her face looked too big; yet it wasn’t too big for her body, because that was big too. It was bad enough being five feet nine tall, but to have breadth with it, and that breadth covered with flesh, was too much. Yet she wasn’t fat. No; that was one thing she determined she wouldn’t be, fat; she was careful what she ate and she very rarely drank anything alcoholic.

  And then there was her name, Beatrice. It sounded big; it seemed to fit her frame; but it had been reduced to Betty, and Betty sounded girlish, and she had never been girlish.

  She closed her eyes for a moment before swinging round from the mirror and picking up the tray and hurrying from the room. When she pushed the green-baized door of the kitchen open with her buttocks she saw that Duffy was asleep in the chair by the fire, and so she gently placed the tray on a side table near the door; then, quietly leaving the room, she climbed the stairs and entered the nursery.

  The child was fast asleep in his cot. He had kicked his bedclothes down and his plump legs lay on top of them. One fist was doubled and pressed into his cheek. Bending over him she gently replaced the bedclothes, then softly she put her lips to his brow which, as always when her flesh touched his, stirred the ache in her heart.

  After making up the fire and replacing the guard she went to her own room. It was very comfortable, with everything there she could wish for, and she had the desire now to sit quietly by the fire until she heard the girls return, then go to bed. But there was Mike. He was up there alone and he would be expecting her; it was Christmas Eve and no-one should be alone on Christmas Eve.

  She drew a comb from the middle parting through each side of her hair. She had always parted it in the middle, imagining it tended to lessen the length of her face. Then taking a clean handkerchief from a drawer and sprinkling a few drops of perfume on it, she placed it up the cuff of her dress, then went out and mounted the attic stairs…

  ‘I thought you were never coming.’

  ‘I had one or two things to see to.’

  ‘But they’ve been gone this hour and a half.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know.’ She raised her eyebrows and nodded at him. ‘But I need to wash sometimes and to change and sit down and look at myself and think.’

  He laughed gently now, saying, ‘Well, come and sit down here.’ Then pulling himself forward in his chair, he pursed his lips, nodded his head slowly as he ran his eyes over her, then commented, ‘I like that, it suits you, shows off your figure. You’ve a good figure, you know.’

  ‘So has a camel…at least other camels think so.’

  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ His laughter was high and loud. ‘You do me good, you know that, Betty? You always do me good, ’cos you’ve got the gift of laughing at yourself, and that’s a priceless asset.’

  ‘Well, I always like to share a joke.’

  ‘Aw, lass. Aw, lass. Come here. Look.’ He pointed out through the uncurtained window. ‘Look at that sky up there. See them stars? Isn’t that a sight? You know, at one time a sight like that would have frightened me, but not any more, because I know that one day I’ll be somewhere along that lot.’

  ‘Huh! I thought you didn’t believe in God.’

  ‘Who’s talking about God? God’s got nowt to do with that.’ He was stabbing his finger now towards the window. ‘Well, not the bloke that you and others think of as God.’

  ‘How do you know whom I think of as God?’

  ‘I don’t.’ He nodded at her. ‘ But we’ll have to get on to that subject some time…Why didn’t you go along with them the night?’

  ‘Because I wasn’t invited.’ She lowered her head down towards him now.

  ‘Everybody’s invited to the Leveys. He’s a good fellow; they’re a nice family. You’ve met them.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know that, and they’ve told me to drop in any time, but…but that’s a politeness, a sort of…’

  ‘Not this side of the country ’tisn’t. If people say drop in, they mean drop in…Are we going to have a game?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  She brought a small table from the wall and placed it in front of him, then opened the envelope top and from a drawer underneath took a pack of cards. This done, she sat down opposite him and as she began to shuffle the cards she said, ‘Are you coming down tomorrow?’

  ‘Aye, I suppose I’ll have to make it, Christmas dinner and all that. A lot of bloody palaver; no meaning left in it.’

  ‘You should come down more often; you stay up here too much.’

  ‘What is there to come down for? And what can I see from the drawing room, or the dining room? And if I was on the first floor the best view only takes in part of the garden and the drive. No, this is my abode from now till the end.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Who’s being silly? I’m not pitying meself, don’t think that; this is a world of its own up here; I have two workshops, a bathroom, a bedroom and this.’ He waved his hand around the sitting room. ‘Who would want for more?’

  ‘You’re too much alone up here.’ She had finished dealing the cards, and he picked his up and looked at his hand before saying, ‘If you can’t stand your own company you’re hard put to stand anybody else’s.’

  ‘You’re cutting yourself off. How long is it since you went to the factory?’

  He put his head back and thought. ‘Two a
nd a half, three years.’

  ‘Aren’t you interested in it any more?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, speaking plain, I wanted to give Joe his head, see what he could do on his own; I didn’t want to shackle him in any way. I wanted him to use his own ideas, and if I’d been on the spot I know I couldn’t have helped but say, Well, it’s been done this way for years and that’s how it’s going to be done for many more, or words to that effect. I would have had to show who was still the boss. Well, when I’m out of the way I don’t lose face when some of his ideas turn out better than mine.’

  As they looked at each other and smiled she shook her head slowly and, using his tone of voice, she said, ‘You’re a queer fella.’

  ‘Aye, that’s been said afore, lass, I’m a queer fella. Look, before we start, bring over that tray.’ He pointed to the sideboard. ‘It’s Christmas, so let’s start the way we mean to go on…’

  It was now half-past eleven and she had been downstairs three times during the past two hours or so, twice to see to the child and the third time when she heard the girls returning. On this occasion she had gone into the kitchen and, her mouth wide, her eyes bright, she had said, ‘Merry Christmas,’ and they had all turned, the four of them, and looked towards her and chorused, ‘Oh, the same to you, a Merry Christmas, miss.’ Then they had all laughed together and she had left the kitchen feeling singularly happy.

  Now she was sitting before the fire close to Mike’s chair, her slippered feet stretched out and her hands cupping the back of her head. She gave a quiet laughing gurgle in her throat before saying, ‘You know, I feel a little drunk.’