Justice is a Woman

by Catherine Cookson

  As if the child was already bearing her down, she walked heavily up the rest of the stairs and into Mike’s sitting room.

  He greeted her straightaway. Shambling from the workshop, he said, ‘That was you and her at it, wasn’t it? I thought the bloody Germans had arrived without knocking. What’s the matter, lass?’ He came slowly towards her, and for answer she said immediately and simply, ‘I’m leaving, Mike.’

  He stared at her but didn’t answer, then moved towards his chair near the window; and he looked out and up into the bright blue sky before he said, ‘I’ve never heard you say it like that afore. You mean it this time. For good, is it?’

  ‘Yes, Mike.’

  He was looking at her again. ‘What brought it about?’

  She went slowly towards him and took the seat facing him, the seat she had sat in for years whenever he had wanted a bit of a crack, as he called it. Then, her head bowed slightly but her eyes still looking into his, she said quietly, ‘I’m going to have a baby, Mike. I’m pregnant.’

  It was a good thirty seconds before he made any response whatever; and then he hitched himself in the leather chair and took in a deep breath and emitted one word: ‘Aye.’

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘Huh! Huh!’ It was a derogatory sound. Then, looking at her from under his eyebrows, he said, ‘You’ve nearly left it too late. I could have put you in the family way years ago if that’s all you wanted. I told you at the time.’

  ‘I know you did, Mike, and…and I wish now I’d taken you at your word. At least, no, that isn’t true; what I mean to say is, I should have taken your offer at the time, then there would have been no need for this to happen as it has. But now that it has, I’m glad. I’m more than glad. I’m overwhelmed with the happiness of it.’

  ‘May I ask who it is?’

  Her head was well down now. That was one thing she wouldn’t and couldn’t tell him: after refusing him, to have taken his son would be too great a blow to his ego; crippled as he was, Mike was still very much a man inside.

  The next moment she almost fell off the chair, so quickly did her head jerk up as he asked quietly, ‘Would our Joe have anything to do with it?’

  She stared at him silently, her body still now, except for her lips, which were trembling. She watched him pull himself to his feet and stand by the broad window sill, and, leaning on it for support, he looked down into the garden as he said, ‘It doesn’t surprise me, but…but it’s bloody hurtful, nevertheless. Still, like father like son, I suppose…What’s that? Who’s she at now?’

  As he turned from the window Betty rose sharply to her feet and they both looked down towards the floor as Elaine’s voice, raised to the pitch of a scream, came to them. The words were unintelligible but that they were flowing on a wave of rage was only too evident.

  ‘He isn’t in? Our Joe isn’t in?’

  ‘No; only Martin.’

  ‘Go on down. See what she’s up to. By the way, does she know?’

  ‘She knows I am pregnant but…but not who the father is—’

  ‘Well, look out for squalls when she does’—his voice was quiet, his words coming slowly—‘because although she has no use for him herself she would do her damnedest to put a spoke in your wheel.’

  She had no doubt but what Mike said was true: Yes, she’d put a spoke in her wheel if she could, but one thing she couldn’t prevent was the life that was already inside her. No; that was hers, and nothing and no-one could take it away from her.

  She had just stepped from the attic stairs onto the landing when she saw Elaine’s sitting-room door burst open and Martin dash out and fly down the stairs.

  Before she reached the door it was banged shut. She paused for a moment to stare at it, then hurried after the boy.

  When she reached the front door she saw him disappearing beyond the tennis court and she stood for a moment gazing in that direction, before she turned and looked back up the stairs. What had she said to him? Likely thrown at him that she, Betty, was leaving, and the reason too, and in such a way that it would appear dirty.

  She knew Martin liked her, even loved her. Hadn’t he once said he wished she was his mother? Over the years she had allowed the thought of this to give her a secret satisfaction, which she would justify by telling herself: And why shouldn’t he, because she had brought him up and loved him unselfishly. And that was the point: unselfishly.

  She now ran down the steps and in the direction the boy had taken. He wasn’t near the greenhouses, and he wasn’t with David, because she could see David working over near the strawberry bed. Eventually she espied him sitting amid the roots of the big oak in the copse near the boundary.

  She called softly as she approached him, saying, ‘Martin. Martin. What is it?’ When she reached his side he didn’t look up at her but, taking a bit of broken branch, he stubbed at the hard ground between the roots; and when she knelt beside him and took his hand he turned his head away from her.

  ‘What…what was your mother saying to you?’

  He shook his head, and when she pulled his face around towards her he muttered, ‘Oh, Aunty Bett,’ and she said softly, ‘Tell me what she said. I…I can explain.’

  Now his head jerked up towards her as he said, ‘How can you? You don’t know.’

  ‘Don’t know what?’

  ‘About Father.’

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, and now she asked very quietly, ‘What about your father?’

  He shook his head wildly and, pulling himself from her, he turned on to his side and, picking up the stick again, he once more jabbed at the earth.

  Now she gripped him firmly by the shoulders and pulled him around to face her, demanding, ‘Tell me! Martin! Everything. Now come along, tell me what she said about your father.’

  The boy swallowed, blinked his eyelids rapidly, very much as she herself did when she was agitated, then he muttered, ‘He’s bad.’

  ‘Your father bad? Your father’s a good man. What did she say?’

  ‘She…she said I must never speak to Elizabeth again or…or go out with her because…’

  ‘Elizabeth?’ Betty almost shrieked, then drew in a deep breath of relief and flopped down beside the boy as she released it, and said, ‘What about Elizabeth? And…and what’s it got to do with your father?’

  His head drooped on to his chest, as he muttered, ‘I…I told her that I thought our school was going to be evacuated and she said it was nonsense. And I said it wasn’t, because Elizabeth’s was being evacuated too, and…and she almost sprang on me, Aunty Bett.’ He looked at her in bewilderment before going on, ‘She said I’d been seeing Elizabeth again after she’d told me I hadn’t to, and I answered her back, saying, Well, it was impossible to come in the gate with Elizabeth and not speak to her. Anyway, I…well, Aunty Bett, I…I told her that I liked Elizabeth. And then I said something silly.’ His head drooped lower now, and she waited until he muttered, ‘I…I said I’d always liked Elizabeth and…and she was my girl. Lots of fellows have girls, Aunty Bett, and Elizabeth’s pretty, and she likes me and…and I like her. But…but I shouldn’t have said it. Anyway I did. And then…well, she went mad, Aunty Bett. She pushed me on to the couch and held me down and…and then she yelled something at me.’

  She had her arms about him and was staring at the top of his head as she asked quietly, ‘What did she yell at you?’

  ‘She said Elizabeth could…could never be my girl that way; never anything like that, she said. She…she was gabbling. Then she took me by the shoulders and shook me and said that Elizabeth was my sister or my half-sister, and that Father was her father, and that Elizabeth’s mother was a bad woman.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  Betty now pulled herself to her feet and dragged up the boy with her, and she took him by the shoulders and shook him as she said, ‘Now listen to me, Martin. They’re lies. Lies. Do you hear? Elizabeth’s mother and father love each other, and Elizabeth is their daughter. Your father and David were brought
up together when they were boys like you. He would never, never—’ Now she was gulping in her throat and shaking her head, and again she said, ‘Oh my God!’

  Grabbing his hand now, she cried, ‘Come on back to the house; your father will be in shortly; he’ll straighten all this out. And it wants straightening out.’

  ‘No, no.’ He resisted her tugging. ‘I don’t want to see him, Aunty Bett.’

  ‘You’ve got to, boy. I’m telling you that your mother doesn’t know what she’s saying; she’s ill. Listen!’ She turned her head to the side. ‘There’s the car going up the drive. Come along.’

  ‘No, no, Aunty Bett.’

  She looked at him helplessly for a moment, then said, ‘Well, promise me one thing: that you’ll stay here till I come back. Now promise me that.’

  He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘All right.’

  She ran from him and between the trees, past the greenhouses, over the tennis court and she reached the side of the drive as Joe was going in by the front door.

  When she called to him he turned towards her, and she was gasping as she said, ‘Come here a minute; there’s something I must tell you.’ And, turning from him, she hurried into the courtyard and towards the garage.

  Once inside, he asked anxiously, ‘What is it? What is it?’

  ‘There’s…there’s been ructions here this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ He nodded. ‘She’s found out?’

  ‘About us? No; not everything. I…I had a row with her. I told her I was leaving and…and about my condition. I also told Mike. Then I heard her going for Martin. I’ve just come from him. He’s over in the wood; he’s in a dreadful state. Joe—’ She put her hands out to him now and as he gripped them she said, ‘Now…now you must try to keep your temper at least until you explain to the boy. Apparently he told Elaine that Elizabeth was his girl; you know, as a boy would, and she screamed at him. She told him it was impossible.’ She now closed her own eyes and screwed them tight for a moment before opening them again and finishing in a rush, ‘She says you are Elizabeth’s father and that they are half-brother and sister.’

  He continued to look at her as if he wasn’t seeing her; then he said slowly, ‘You mean she…?’

  When it seemed impossible for him to state the matter in words she nodded slowly, then said, ‘Yes. And he’s in the wood. He’s in a dreadful state; you’d better go to him. He promised me he would stay there until I went back.’

  He looked out of the garage door now, then turned his head to the side and said below his breath, ‘No, no’; then again, ‘No, no; you bring him, Betty; I’m going in.’

  ‘Joe! Joe! Please be careful.’

  ‘I’ve been careful too long. Yes, that’s been my trouble; I’ve been careful too long.’

  ‘Joe, don’t do anything you’ll be sorry for. Think…think what it might mean.’

  As he looked at her now his expression softened as he said, ‘I’ll think what it’ll mean, dear. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Fetch him.’

  While she hurried across the yard he walked quickly towards the front door, his stride covering the ground as if he were flying over it, so that he was through the hall and up the stairs within seconds.

  When he thrust open the sitting-room door Elaine was standing in the middle of the room. The sun was glinting on her hair, taking the colour out of it; her face, her dress, all of her appeared like a pale flame, a delicate, fragile flame that could be extinguished by the slight stir of a summer wind. But Joe didn’t see the outer casing, he was looking at the woman underneath.

  After closing the door he took a step forward, then stopped, and his Adam’s apple jerked spasmodically in his throat before he said, ‘So I’m Elizabeth’s father, am I?’

  ‘You should know.’ Her voice was high, yet it sounded like a thin whisper.

  ‘You dirty-minded slut.’ He moved another step towards her; and now she backed away from him but, her voice even higher now, she cried at him, ‘Don’t you dare call me dirty; you, above all people! You had the nerve to bring that child into this house. Anybody who wanted proof had just to see your faces together. As for dirty; huh! Dirty you say. The blackie went and married her. That upset you, didn’t it? You couldn’t have him so you took his wife. Or did you share her?’

  The cry that escaped her as he grabbed her throat rang through the house, and when the door burst open he had her pinned against the wall.

  ‘Joe! Joe! My God! Let go. Let go.’

  Of a sudden, he released his hold and stepped so hastily back that he almost knocked Betty to the floor.

  Elaine was leaning against the wall, her hands to her throat, her breath coming in painful gasps. Her head was to the side and she was staring at Joe with a mixture of terror and hatred.

  Joe now stood by the head of the couch. His body was bent forward, his arms hanging limp, but his gaze was directed straight onto Elaine; yet he spoke to Betty, saying, ‘Take her upstairs to Father.’

  ‘To Mike? But why?’

  ‘You’ll find out in a minute. Just take her up, because…because I don’t want to touch her again.’

  A somewhat bemused Betty went towards Elaine and, gently taking her arm, she drew her from the wall; then, making a wide detour around Joe, she led her from the room.

  Left alone, Joe turned towards the head of the couch, and, gripping it, he bent over it for a moment before turning abruptly and going to the window. This he raised, and then he yelled out across the garden, ‘David! David!’ Then, louder still, ‘David! David!’

  David came running through the gap in the hedge that bordered part of the drive, then stopped and, looking up at the window, called, ‘What is it? Do you want me?’

  ‘Come indoors.’

  Over the distance they looked at each other; then David said slowly, ‘What do you mean, come indoors?’

  ‘You heard me. I said, come indoors, come upstairs.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll know soon enough. Do as I tell you.’

  David glanced about him; then, rubbing his hands tight across his mouth, he moved slowly towards the front door; and, for the first time in his life he entered the house.

  In the hall, he paused, looking about him, before making for the stairs and mounting them to where Joe was standing at the top. And when they were face to face he said, ‘What is it? Why am I here?’

  Joe made no answer, but, turning about, he said, ‘Come on.’ And David followed him along the landing, up the steep stairs to the top floor and into the sitting room, where Mike was standing with his back to the window sill.

  Elaine was sitting half crouched forward on a chair, and Betty was standing behind it.

  They all turned towards the door and the two men standing within it; Joe, his face grim and almost purple with anger, David, standing very straight, his lips set tight, his eyes directed straight across the room to where Mike stood.

  And now Mike spoke. ‘What’s brought this about, eh? Have … have you all gone mad?’

  Joe didn’t move from David’s side, but he looked straight at his father as he said, ‘Tell them what relation David, here, is to you and to me.’

  When Mike brought himself from the support of the window sill, his stick wobbled under his hand before he straightened himself as much as he could and growled, ‘What’s this? A showdown you’re wantin’?’

  ‘That’s it; it’s a showdown I’m wanting. And not afore time.’

  All their eyes turned on Mike now, but his were focused on the dark face that was staring at him from across the room, and he spoke to it, saying, ‘It’s rather late in the day, isn’t it, to make a claim?’

  ‘I’m making no claim.’ The deep resonance in David’s voice at that moment seemed to speak of his coloured forebears.

  ‘Father.’ Joe moved hastily forward now until he was standing between his father and Elaine, and he stared at his father as he pointed to Elaine, ‘Make it plain to her, will you, because her cute mind has pointed out to
her the resemblance between Elizabeth and me, so she accuses me of being her father.’

  Mike now looked straight back into Joe’s eyes. Then, after a moment, he turned his gaze on to Elaine’s tight pallid face and he said slowly, ‘David is my son.’

  Elaine, staring up at Mike, made a small movement with her head, and her nose twitched just the slightest. She went to open her mouth, then closed it again…Rising from the chair, she glared at Joe, then back to his father, then turned her bitter gaze on David, and it would seem that her eyes had dragged a cloak of disdain over the three of them before she stalked from the room.

  ‘Well! Well!’ The words seemed to break the embarrassed silence, and as Mike lowered himself down into his chair he looked to where David was standing near the door and he said quietly, ‘Come on in, lad, and sit down.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ The words still came slow and deep. ‘I’ve stood on the sidelines all this time and that’s where I choose to stay. As you said yourself, it’s too late in the day.’ And on this, David too turned about and left the room.

  But Joe was immediately after him, calling, ‘Wait a minute, David. Hang on a minute. Please!’

  Mike now turned his head towards Betty, saying, ‘Don’t you walk out on me an’ all, at least not at the moment. Shut the door, lass; then pour me a drink.’

  Betty closed the door, and she poured out two drinks, and after handing a glass to Mike she sat down facing him and stared at him for a moment before she asked quietly, ‘Why have you kept silent all this time?’