There were eight windows to the front of the house, two at each side of the front door and four above door level, all deep set in the rough stone wall. Although it was called a cottage it had eight main rooms, besides the kitchen quarters, and a long attic, whose windows looked out onto the back of the house.
Betty had arrived late the previous evening, her reception by the old lady not only touching her heart, but warming her and soothing her frayed nerves, and she had to admit that her nerves had become frayed over the past months. From that anything but joyful Christmas Day up till just a few weeks ago there had been a noticeable rift in the relationship between herself and Elaine, and she knew that if she hadn’t been so useful to her sister, or if the child had been easy to rear, or again, if there wasn’t the obstacle of the real master of the house, Elaine would have politely given her her marching orders long before now.
Then a few weeks ago Elaine’s attitude had changed; in fact, there had been two or three times when it seemed as if she was about to apologise for her behaviour. Once she had grabbed hold of her hand and had begun to say something, but before Betty could ask her what was wrong she had turned and rushed away into the garden. She hadn’t followed her, for she recognised this as an echo of her sister’s childish strategy; as a child, when she was at fault, she would attempt to apologise, then run off and lock herself in the schoolroom, and by the time she was coaxed to come out, you would find yourself apologising to her.
She had thought that Elaine would greet her news that she was going to spend two or three weeks with Lady Mary with relief, yet, although she hadn’t openly stated that she didn’t want her to go, her manner had spoken for her.
During the summer months, Elaine had fallen into the habit of travelling up to London on her own. Sometimes she stayed with her Uncle Hughes-Burton, at other times with a school friend. Betty was surprised that Joe hadn’t objected to these visits, which often kept Elaine away for two or three nights at a time; but on these nights he himself didn’t return from the factory until eight or nine in the evening. And then there were his visits to the Brookses, which had become more frequent since Hazel’s baby was born in April, strangely, on the same day that Martin was born two years before, a coincidence which had incensed Elaine. Betty recalled Elaine’s anger at the time when Joe, stopping the car at the gates on the sight of Hazel sitting outside nursing the baby, had got out, taken the child in his arms and brought it back to the car, saying, ‘Isn’t she beautiful?’
And undoubtedly Hazel’s baby was beautiful. And there was very little sign of the father’s colour about her.
Yes, she had to admit to herself that there were times when she saw Elaine’s point of view with regard to Joe’s affection for David and his wife. Granted he and David had been brought up together, granted he had compassion for the man, but even so his treatment of him and his wife was unusual: it was as if he loved them…loved him. When this thought had first occurred to her, she had felt some embarrassment, yet it gave her an insight into Elaine’s feelings on the subject and she couldn’t help but be in sympathy with her on this issue at least…
‘What are you thinking about, staring ahead like that?’
‘Oh, nothing…everything; it’s so peaceful here, so restful.’
‘Too restful at times. That silly Miss Watkins imagined I had come here to die. She was preparing for the funeral, I think.’
‘It was likely her concern for you.’
‘Concern, huh! She should never have called herself a companion; she was more like a politician: one would imagine it was she herself who had pushed the flapper vote through. She actually waved the newspaper above her head that morning last summer, yelling, “We can do it at twenty-one!”’ Lady Mary now leaned forward again and, gripping Betty’s hand, she muttered, ‘Do you know what I said to her?’ And in a hoarse whisper, her expression one of glee, she went on, ‘You know what I said to her? “Be quiet! woman. You’re forty and by now you should know that you can do it at any age, past fourteen, that is.”’
As she lay back in her chair, her face turned to the sky, laughing unrestrainedly, Betty held her hand over her own mouth while her body shook.
Straightening herself up now, the old lady continued her tirade against her former companion: ‘Her mother was a suffragette: rights for women, equality, and the like; fools the lot of them, fools. I would never allow any man to be equal with me. Mentally any woman can outshine and outwit any male if she has sense enough to put her mind to it. Equality! Do you know something, girl? My father was a bully and my mother was a terror. The servants hated him and loved her. If a servant disobeyed him or as much as spoke before he had given him leave, he would whip him, literally whip him off his feet. He could flick a whip like any of those cowboy men. I thought of him the other day and what his attitude would have been to Mrs Bailey when she stood by the dining table, her bust sticking out so much with pride that I couldn’t see her face, and told me that her son had got to Oxford, “He’s going to Ruskin College, ma’am,” she said, her tone suggesting that I had tried to stop him. Mind, I had to stop myself from saying, “Well, it’s a working man’s college; you find no gentlemen there.” But there’s a lot of my mother in me and so I said, “You must be very proud, Mrs Bailey,” and she said, “Times are changing, ma’am. Yes, by! they are that. An’ not afore time. Nobody’ll look down on him.” It was then I thought of my father and that whip and I became sad for a moment at the realisation that indeed times have changed; no-one would have dared to speak to their mistress like that in my father’s time.’
‘I’m sure she meant no offence.’ Betty’s tone was cool.
‘Why do you always defend these people? You know, in some ways you’re like my mother, only she was a beauty and she had charm…Oh! Oh! I’m not insulting you, you’ve got charm. Even though you can’t lay claim to good looks you’ve certainly got charm. But my mother was a character. They were both characters. Do you know what? They used to fight like cat and dog. Talk about the poor on a Saturday night, my parents could have out-yelled and out-bashed them hollow.’
She now lay back in her chair and once more she turned her face up to the sky as she went on, ‘I remember one time. It was after a house party. Irene, that was my sister, and Ned, my brother—he was killed in India—we were looking through the top balcony. We always got up when they were having a go, and this time it was my father’s turn. He was going at my mother for flirting with some fellow. I can see her now. She came sailing out of the bedroom, her head in the air, her face bright with impish laughter, saying, “You know what you can do, Henry, you can kiss my backside,” and my father bellowed, “I wouldn’t kiss what I could kick,” and we watched him lift his boot and plant it on her hefty buttocks and away she went sprawling flat on her face. Then you know what he did? He picked her up and carried her back into the bedroom. They loved each other. Yes, they did, very much. It was a happy house. Wherever we lived, as long as they were together, it was a happy house. I hate mealy-mouthed individuals, don’t you?’ She brought her head up and glanced towards Betty, but Betty merely smiled at her and waited for the rest, and it soon came.
‘Sarah, you know, Lady Menton, she’s mealy-mouthed. Oh, isn’t she just! At least since she married James. Prayers for breakfast, dinner and tea. But she was a different girl when we were all in India; Sarah was no prim memsahib then, oh no. She didn’t wear four flannel petticoats then, sometimes not even one. We used to go to the hills, you know, in the hot weather.’ She now twisted around in the chair and looked fully at Betty and her face crinkled into myriad wrinkles as she began to sing softly in a croaking quiver the parody on If Those Lips Could Only Speak.
‘If those hills could only speak
And the husbands could only see,
What a wonderful, wonderful picture
Of im-mo-ra-li-ty.’
They were laughing again unrestrainedly, and now Betty said, ‘You’re a wicked woman, you know, Lady Mary.’
‘I
know I am and I take that as a compliment, girl. By the way, I was thinking: how would you like to learn to drive a car?’
‘I can drive a car. I drove a truck for some time during the war.’
‘You did? Well! well! That’s marvellous news. I’m going to buy a car and you will help me choose it, and you’ll drive me all about this beautiful countryside. I’ve always been given to understand that there were no places worth seeing in the North. Well, now I’ve seen them for myself, I can tell you in truth you can keep the South; this is more like me.’ And she waved her hand in front of her as if to encompass the whole countryside. ‘It’s rugged beauty, with very few soft spots. In a car we can go to Hawick that way’—she thrust out one arm—‘or to Kelso that way’—she thrust out the other arm—‘or back to Kelso and over the border again across those wild moors and fells. They drove me that way and the grandeur was breathtaking. I never knew such places existed before, and I’ve travelled in my time. What car do you fancy?’
‘Now, Lady Mary’—Betty’s voice was low, her words spaced—‘I told you, didn’t I? A fortnight, three weeks at the most.’
‘Well, we could go lots of places in a fortnight to three weeks.’
‘But what would you do with the car afterwards?’
‘I’d’—the old head wobbled from side to side—‘I’d engage a chauffeur.’
‘Where would you house him?’
There was silence for a moment, then the face wrinkled again into glee, and now she was holding Betty’s knee as she said, ‘I’d make him sleep with Nancy on the peril of having his legs whipped from underneath him.’
As she laughed quietly and helplessly Betty said, ‘Under those conditions he’d be bound to give in.’
‘Isn’t it nearly teatime?’ And to the abrupt question Betty replied, ‘No; there’s more than half an hour to go yet; there’s time for a nap.’
‘Who wants a nap? I want to talk.’ Nevertheless Lady Mary laid her head back against the chair and became still, and within a few minutes she was dozing.
Betty looked at her. The dress she was wearing had been fashionable forty years ago. It was one of a score to be found lying in trunks in the spare room. She understood that the old lady’s habit was to take seven out at a time, wear a different one every day of the week and continue in this way for a month; then replace them with another seven. On her own admission she was a wealthy woman, so why did she dress like this? Likely because she wanted to look different and so attract notice to herself; dressed in today’s fashion she would appear, until she opened her mouth, to be just another old lady.
Why did she like her? At times she had a bitter tongue, and her imperious manner could be very off-putting unless you understood what was behind it. She liked her, she supposed, because she did understand what was behind it: loneliness, a wasted life, a keen mind that saw the futility of living but nevertheless experienced a fear of dying, a need to be cared for and loved.
Well, she could care for her and she could love her. She would find her easy to love. So why not, why not stay? What was more, Lady Mary wouldn’t go back on her word, she would do as she said and provide for her. Now that she was past thirty, the years would go by quickly, so very quickly; before she knew it she’d be forty, then fifty; and then what?
On Christmas Eve she had thrown away a sure form of security, and now she was being given a second chance to alleviate one worry in her mind at least. Was she going to be a fool for the second time? And how different it would be living here; the very setting oozed tranquillity. And there’d be no irritations. Oh, the old lady’s tongue wouldn’t be an irritation, more a form of amusement. But the main release would come from not seeing Joe, nor hearing him, nor sitting opposite him at breakfast.
Sometimes she thought everyone in the household must know how she felt about him; yet she knew that this was wild imagination; no-one knew how she felt. She hadn’t herself realised the extent of her feelings until the moment she had placed Martin in his arms.
She asked herself what it was about him that had caught at her heart from their first meeting. It wasn’t his looks, even though she loved to sit and stare at his face and watch the way his lips shot widely into a smile or laughter. Was it the look in his eyes? For they were kind eyes, except when he lost his temper and the light in them deadened like cooling steel. It wasn’t that he stood out dramatically from other men in looks or stature; yet he did stand out. His personality affected people; to some he was a nice fellow, to others he was bad-tempered, a hard man. But all seemed to agree on one point; he was no fool. And yet he was blind where Elaine was concerned. But was he? Since overhearing their quarrelling she had begun to think that he knew more about her sister than she had imagined. Perhaps the truth was he wanted to remain blind. Mike had once said something to this effect, something about his not wanting to wake up.
And then there was Mike. If she left the house she would miss Mike, because there had daily been growing in her a feeling for Mike that was almost akin to love, yet wasn’t love; at least, not love as she knew she wanted love; still, it was something that she would miss if she were to lose contact with it.
She sighed and lay back and looked over the calm scene before her. She’d let it all settle in her mind for the next two weeks before making a final decision about moving in with Lady Mary.
Four
As it turned out, she was forced to make her decision after just six days.
Betty and Lady Mary were sitting in the drawing room awaiting the hired car that was to take them into Kelso. Lady Mary had definitely made up her mind she was going to buy a car, one that would fit them, she had explained. For the past two days Betty had tried to persuade her from taking this decision to its practical conclusion, but she remained adamant: ‘All right,’ Lady Mary had said, ‘if you are not going to drive it, it doesn’t matter; I shall hire a chauffeur, a gentleman one. Look at the newspapers! Ex-officers are still throwing themselves about right, left and centre to become employed: Gentleman, late of the so-and-so regiment, will accept any position. Didn’t I read that out to you last night? This country’s heading for total collapse, and it’s that Labour Party’s fault and the strikes they cause. In my day everybody was fitly employed, each man to his station; now Mrs Bailey’s son goes to Oxford. Huh!’
When the sound of a car coming on to the drive at the side of the house came to them, they both rose to their feet, and Betty, opening the door to allow Lady Mary to pass into the small hall, remarked, ‘I think it’s going to rain. Do you think you should make the journey?’
‘Don’t try to put me off, girl. And stop thinking I’m buying this car to induce you to stay.’ She turned and confronted Betty, and she, looking straight into the old lady’s blue eyes and smiling faintly, said, ‘It never entered my head.’
‘Liar!’
‘Well, you should know.’
‘Huh! Huh!’ The chuckle came from deep within Lady Mary’s throat; and then they were at the front door, and there stood a man, but not the chauffeur of the hired car.
‘Why, Joe!’
‘Hello, Betty. Good morning, Lady Ambers.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve…I’ve come to see my sister-in-law.’ His tone was polite but stiff.
‘She’s on holiday.’ Lady Ambers now took Betty’s arm in an effort to thrust her back into the hall, but Betty, covering the hand gently, said, ‘Come and let us sit down for a moment. Come in, Joe.’
Protesting loudly and her words almost unintelligible, the old lady went back into the drawing room and when she was seated Betty turned to Joe, who had come no further than the doorway, and asked quietly, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve…I must talk to you, Betty.’
‘You can say what you’ve got to say here; there’s no secrets between her and me. She’s going to stay here; she’s made up her mind,’ said Lady Ambers defiantly.
‘Please, please, Lady Mary.’
‘Aw! girl.’ Now the old woman thrust out her hand and grabbed at Betty’s, saying pathetically, ‘You don’t want to go back there, I know you don’t; you’ve been content here. We get on well, don’t we? We do, don’t we now?’
‘Yes, yes, we do, very well.’
‘Then why be persuaded to go back there and be everybody’s servant?’ She now turned and looked up at Joe, saying, ‘Oh, you can look as angry as you like, my man, but it’s the truth. I keep my eyes and ears open; I heard a lot while I was with Sarah, along the road.’
Joe drew in a long slow breath; then, looking at Betty, he said, ‘I must speak with you alone.’
‘Yes, yes. Please excuse me a moment, Lady Mary. Now, now.’ She patted the hand that was still gripping hers. ‘You must realise that my brother-in-law wouldn’t have come all this way unless the matter was urgent…Please.’
The grip was slowly relaxed; the old head was turned completely away; and Betty, hurrying past Joe and from the room, motioned him to follow her.
Both having swiftly climbed the shallow oak stairs, he followed her to her bedroom, and, she, opening the door, stood aside for him to pass her; then closing the door behind them, she asked quickly, ‘What is it? What’s happened?…is it Mike?’
‘No, no.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s…it’s Elaine. She’s…she’s in a state.’
‘State? What kind of a state?’
He closed his eyes for a moment, nipped at his lip, then said, ‘She discovered she’s pregnant again and she’s tried to do everything she can to get rid of it. I didn’t know until yesterday; I mean, what the real trouble was. I knew she’d been taking medicine, stomach medicine. She…she had indicated she had trouble with her bowels. I…I came across a letter just by accident. She was lying on the bed sweating. I went to her handkerchief drawer and there it was tucked between them. Well, naturally, it intrigued me. I read it. It was from this school friend of hers arranging to have somebody do an abortion. I went berserk, and when she said she intended to go through with it I told her…well’—he thrust out his head and turned towards the window—‘I threatened to divorce her and…and give the reasons why; and oh, so many other things besides. And then last night’—he turned towards her again—‘I found her on the bed and bleeding. I got the doctor immediately; she’—again his head moved in desperation—‘she must have tried to bring it away herself. Have you ever heard of any such thing?’
Justice is a Woman Page 15