‘This is Kaa-tee, Jon.’ He led her forward by the hand, then said, ‘My brother, Kaa-tee.’
They shook hands and the man said, ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’arm.’ His voice had a thick sound; his English was not as Andrée spoke it. He stared at Katie, his eyes not flinching from her. They seemed to bore right into her, asking a question.
‘How do you do?’ Katie said, and then the three stood awkwardly for a moment until Andrée, with his deep bellow, cried, ‘We must have a drink. Come on. Betty’s got the meal ready.’
‘She has?’ Katie turned and smiled at Andrée, glad that she could find something to speak about. ‘Oh, that’s good.’ Then she added, ‘Have…have you been up to Theresa?’
‘Yes, and I took Jon up. He likes her.’ With his doubled-up fist he punched his brother in the arm, and Jon said something rapidly in his own tongue, to which Andrée replied; and then they both laughed before Andrée, turning to Katie, said, ‘I’m sorry. No more foreign chatter; he can speak English. He was just saying to me that he would marry her if she could speak his tongue.’
‘Nor. Nor.’ Jon shook his head, and, his face serious, he turned to Katie and said again, ‘Nor. Nor.’
Katie smiled and looked at Andrée. Andrée seemed excited about something. He generally acted like this when something was disturbing him. It was one of his odd ways. When he didn’t want her to be troubled he would, as her granda used to say, act the goat.
The suspicion that there was something unusual afoot deepened as the meal proceeded. Andrée had usually a large appetite and would often take a second and third helping of the main course, but tonight he waved all offers of second helpings aside. Another thing she noticed was that he gave his brother very little chance to talk to her. At times she would find Jon’s eyes on her, their expression keen and penetrating, but he would always look away when she returned his gaze.
She was surprised when, almost immediately after the meal, Jon said he would have to be leaving, and she was equally surprised when Andrée offered no argument for him to stay.
She did not know whether she liked Andrée’s brother or not. He was a disturbing factor coming out of Andrée’s past, the past that she had thought dead. Not for years had he mentioned his wife or family, or his home in Norway, and never had he mentioned his brother and sisters from that night when he had explained his background to her and showed her the photographs. It was as if he had buried them all before he left that far country. But now one was resurrected, and why? That was the question she was asking herself as she stood in the hall and said goodbye to Jon.
When he politely shook her hand and thanked her for her hospitality, she said simply, ‘Will you come and see us again?’ And after a moment, during which he flashed his eyes towards Andrée, he made a motion with his head before replying, ‘Yes, I would like zat. When I am in zis port I will come and see you again.’ And now he smiled at her. It was the first time he had smiled at her, and she smiled back at him. And then he went to the door and Andrée went with him, and when they began to speak in their mother tongue she walked back into the parlour.
A few minutes later Andrée joined her. He came in slowly, no laughter in his face now. He came straight to her, put his arms about her and hugged her to him once—he did not kiss her—then, taking her by the hand, he went to the couch that stood at right angles to the open brick fireplace and, sitting down, drew her down beside him.
‘What is it?’ she asked. The anxiety was in her voice, and he turned his head slowly and said, ‘Now, Kaa-tee, this mustn’t worry you. I tell you this mustn’t worry you, but I’m going home tomorrow.’
He had said he was going home. For fourteen years she had been his home—not this port or this house, or the other places they had lived in, but she had been his home, his country. He had said so. She made a small movement with her hand; her lips fell apart but she couldn’t speak.
‘My…my wife is ill, really ill this time, she…she has asked to see me, she asked Jon to come and ask me to go back…just to see her…Don’t! Don’t look like that, Kaa-tee; it means nothing. I would never live with her again. You know. Aah!’ He screwed up his face and the point of his beard stuck out. ‘Do I have to tell you? No. No, I don’t. After all these years. No. In all your bones and flesh you know there is only you. But…but she is ill, dying, and wants to see me. For what purpose, after all these years, I don’t know. But people are funny. I always say that people are funny. Jon says he really thinks she is dying, but Kristin has thought she was dying many times before; yet if she is really very ill and I don’t go and she dies, I—well, I am funny too, I would have it on my mind. But, Kaa-tee, there’s no need for you to worry, because I will be back. What am I without you, eh? How could I live without you? You know all that. Come. Come.’ He patted her face, first one cheek then the other. ‘Say something. You know what I say is right. We cannot exist one from the other, so why do you worry? Kaa-tee, Kaa-tee.’ His voice now dropped deep in his throat.
‘Andy, I’m…I’m frightened. I…I can’t help it, I’m frightened.’
‘Why? Why?’ He now pulled her into his arms and pressed her tightly to him, and she muttered into his neck, ‘You’ll never be able to realise what you mean to me…You can’t understand…’
She now felt herself being pushed almost violently from him. ‘I don’t understand…Don’t talk like a stupid woman, because you’re not a stupid woman, so don’t talk like one. I do understand. I also understand my own feelings.’ He now thumped his chest. ‘Why do I not take long voyages, me who loves the sea, the deep sea? Why do I scuttle up and down this dirty river…? I do not understand? Oh, Kaa-tee.’
‘I’m sorry, Andy.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘But…but I can’t help it. I…I’m afraid. You’re all I have in the world, all I want in the world; I’m afraid of losing you.’
She said this simply, and quietly, and when his hand came on to her hair and stroked it gently as he gazed into her eyes she whispered, ‘How are you going to get there?’
‘In Jon’s ship.’
‘But what about yours?’
‘I will fix that tomorrow morning. I have never asked the Palmer company for any favours since I started with them and I’ve never missed a trip in thirteen years. They will put someone on in the meantime; if they don’t…’ His big shoulders moved upwards. ‘There are other companies. But I don’t worry; they will be amenable. In any case, whether or no, I go to Norway tomorrow, Kaa-tee.’
‘And you don’t know when you’ll be back?’
‘As soon as possible…as soon as possible. When I get there and see how things are, if I am not returning immediately I will send a letter by the first boat that’s leaving for this part.’
One minute she was seeing him, the next minute he was blurred by a mist of tears. She closed her eyes tightly but the tears welled from her lids, and when her face was smothered against him she saw herself on the black picture of her mind, alone, entirely alone. Andrée was going back to Norway to his real family. It would be too fantastic to imagine that he hadn’t over the years had that lonely longing, that emptiness that spoke of the yearning for family, and his need would have been greater than hers, for he was of a large family…and there were four children of his flesh.
And now he was going to his family. But, as he had said, she should know him, she should know that he couldn’t exist without her…Would he say it yet again when once he was reunited with his family? The picture in her mind showed him surrounded by four beautiful children—she had forgotten for the moment that they would be grown-up now. She only knew that she was frightened of him meeting his children, meeting his wife. She couldn’t throw off the feeling, and in this moment there seemed a link between Joe’s rejection of her all those years ago and Andy’s going now. She wanted to cry to him, ‘Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I can’t bear it.’ But she didn’t, for she knew that he had definitely made up his mind to go, and when he made up his mind to do something he did
it. Had he not made his mind up to live with her?
Chapter Three
Theresa was resting on a couch set at an angle to the fire. To the right of her was the window, with a border of snow mounting against the bottom pane. It had been snowing for two days and all the outside world was white. She stared towards the window while her hands rested on the top of an open book on her lap, and she wondered if Katie had gone out. It was twenty past ten, and if she was going to do a reading she nearly always came up around ten o’clock.
Katie, she realised, was very worried over Andrée, and she had reason to be, for anything could happen when he saw his wife and family again… . He might never return…Did she want that to happen? Oh no! No! Never. Many times, before she had really known him, she had wished him dead, but life did queer things to you. After fitting you out with the wrong interior it fought you with your inner values, your inner codes, the values and codes that really belonged to another sex. The only right thing it did that you could thank it for was giving you the power to hide your pain, at least most of the time. But she was in no pain now, not mentally; her life was so pleasant, so calm, so beautiful at times that she became fearful that she might not die before it changed. Yet from where she was placed now she couldn’t see it changing much; she would always be with Katie. Now she had the power to hold herself in check and not demand anything, not even ask for a minute of her time; she would always be with her…And Andrée? She had thought she would be with him too, right to the end, but now she wasn’t so sure. It came to her as no surprise the gap that would be in her life if Andrée were not to come back, because between her and this huge, grey, bearded Norwegian had grown a kind of rapport; it was a feeling that was deep and strong and had grown through silences and things left unsaid rather than said. Never had she thought she would like any man; never, even in her most reasonable and objective moments, did she imagine herself coming to like Katie’s man; but in the depths of her dual nature she realised that if she could have loved a man it would have been a man such as Andrée Fraenkel.
Andrée she had found an intelligent man and surprisingly well read for a sailor. Looking back, she saw that she had been brought near to him almost in one leap when he suggested that she should instruct Katie. She came to learn that it was almost an obsession with him that Katie should talk and act like a lady.
At one time she had been pleased that he was only in the house a day or so each week, but this feeling had also passed, for she now looked forward to his coming home nearly as much as Katie did…Not quite, and not, of course, in the same way. But when she heard his hearty laugh from the hall below she always felt herself smiling, and her eyes turning towards the door.
Life was strange. You set a course for it, and when one day you found it had taken the opposite direction you accepted its diversities and said simply, ‘So be it.’
Would Katie be able to say simply ‘So be it’ if Andrée didn’t come back? No; she would pine and die—that is, if she didn’t do something desperate straightaway, for this thing that existed between her and Andrée was of an immensity that would be beyond the understanding of most people. But she herself had no need to fathom the reason why a man of the world, as Andrée was, should leave his wife and family, his apparently wealthy wife, and cleave to a girl who had known nothing all her life but the humiliating dregs of labour.
And now he had gone back to visit his wife. It was too early for word from him yet, for only three days had passed, but already it was as if the house had gone into mourning for his loss.
There was a step on the stairs, but it was only Betty. She came into the room carrying a scuttle of coal, and such were the times and the easygoingness of the house that she spoke before she was spoken to. ‘By, miss, we soon won’t be able to get out the front door. Mr Kenny says there’s drifts waist high round the market, an’ it’s not made any better by them shovellin’ it off the roads.’
‘Mr Kenny is here, Betty?’
‘Aye, miss.’ Betty dumped three big lumps of coal on the hearth of the glowing fire. ‘He’s with…the missus in the study.’
‘He usually comes on a Saturday morning.’ Theresa spoke as if to herself, but Betty replied in a confidential manner as she twisted round from the hearth towards the couch, ‘He’s come about the new house. Goin’ there, I mean. Won’t it be grand livin’ in Westoe. Eeh, by!’ She shook her head. ‘Wonderful, Ka—the missus says it’s a fine house with a big hallway as big as wor—our dining room is now, an’ she says she’ll get a new range in the kitchen for me…An’ what d’you think?’ She moved forward on her knees. ‘She says there’s a room just off the kitchen and that she’ll have it fitted up like a sittin’ room for me ’cos I’ll be like a housekeeper. What do you think of that, eh?’
Theresa smiled kindly. ‘Oh, that’ll be fine for you, Betty.’
‘As for you, Miss Theresa…Aw, your room’s right on the ground floor and leadin’ out into the garden.’
Theresa’s face became straight. She understood that there was nothing settled about the house yet, whether they would move there or not, but apparently she had been mistaken. She felt a little piqued that Betty should know more than she did.
Betty, with the quickness of her kind, sensed this and, raising her eyebrows and putting her hand over her mouth, she said, ‘Eh, me mouth’s like a pithead. I shouldn’t have said a word. The missus was gonna surprise you like. She’ll want to knock me inta the middle of next week when she knows. Don’t let on, Miss Theresa. Don’t let on, eh?’
Theresa now smiled conspiratorially at Betty and said, ‘All right, Betty, I won’t.’
As Betty went down the stairs she shook her head as she said to herself, ‘Eeh! Ye hey to be so bloomin’ careful.’ But it would never do for Miss Theresa to think that Katie confided in her. It would upset Miss Theresa, and she didn’t want that because she was a nice lady, and poorly.
It was almost half an hour later when Katie came up to Theresa’s room. Her face was white and her eyes looked tired as if she hadn’t slept much. She sat down near the fire and poked it before she said, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been up before, but Mr Kenny came.’
‘On Friday?’ said Theresa. ‘It isn’t his usual time.’
‘No, he came about the house.’ Now Katie turned towards Theresa, saying, ‘I don’t know what to do. I told him so. I’ve told him I’m going to leave it for a while. I…I didn’t tell him why, of course.’
‘Of course,’ said Theresa; but she added, ‘it’ll be all right; he’ll be back for Christmas.’
‘Christmas is less than three weeks away.’
‘Well, he’ll be here before then, you’ll see.’
Katie gave a small smile and impulsively put her hand out and patted Theresa’s; and Theresa didn’t clutch at it and hold it to her as she wanted to, she just said, ‘Let’s do some reading…that’s if you’re not going out.’
‘No, I’m not going out until after lunch.’
‘Good. I thought we might start on the third volume of Lord Chesterfield’s Letters; there are fewer French translations in this one, but…’
‘That’s something to be thankful for.’
‘Oh, Katie.’ Theresa was smiling tolerantly. ‘You know that the letters have helped you considerably. I…I thought you’d like to do a translation so I’ve started on page twenty-nine. He’s explaining the different kinds of governments.’ She handed the book to Katie at the open page, and Katie, after looking at it for a while, took in a deep breath and began to read:
‘Letter Two hundred and twenty-eight
London, June 11 O.S. 1750.
My dear Friend,
The President Montesquieu (whom you will be acquainted with at Paris), after having laid down in his book L’Esprit des Lois the nature and principles of the three different kinds of government, viz. the democratical, the monarchical, and the despotic, treats of the education necessary for each respective form. His chapter upon the education proper for the monarchical I th
ought worth transcribing and sending to you. You will observe that the monarchy which he has in his eye is France.’
Katie drew in another breath, and looking towards Theresa said, ‘Do you want me to try it in French or write the transcription?’
‘French, of course.’
‘It looks so difficult, there are so many big words.’
‘Go on with you.’ Theresa flicked her hand upwards; her voice was that of the teacher.
And so Katie began the French version, and when she hesitated Theresa said, ‘Go on, go on, that’s excellent. Your French is as good as mine.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’ Katie shook her head; then, putting her hand flat on the book, she appealed to Theresa, saying, ‘Let’s leave it this morning, it’s such an effort to concentrate. I…I want to talk, Theresa.’
‘All right.’ Theresa put out her hand and took the book from Katie’s lap. ‘Talk all you want, my dear.’
Katie turned from Theresa and looked into the fire. She felt tired, so tired, but she must talk, pour out all her fears. She had walked the floor in the middle of the night, and had gone to the kitchen around five and made herself some tea. She was still there at half-past six when Betty came downstairs and exclaimed in surprise, ‘Aw, Katie, lass, what is it? What’s troublin’ you?’ And to her surprise Katie found she couldn’t tell her. She could talk to Betty about the old days, she could laugh and joke with her, but she found she couldn’t tell her that she feared her man would not come back. Yet, strangely, she could say this to Theresa.
‘I’ve got a feeling on me, Theresa,’ she said, ‘that I’ll never see him again; that I’ll get a letter to say she needs him, his family needs him and he’s decided to spend the rest of his days in his own country.’
Katie Mulholland Page 33