‘My God!’ Hal was walking up and down in his characteristic way now, talking as he strode, ‘’Tis like you to turn up and put us in this situation, one that we can’t handle. I’m sorry, I am really, Roddy, that you find yourself in this fix, but’—he stopped —’about this business…well, the time you have. What’s wrong with you?’
‘A number of things. ‘ The answer came quietly. ‘But the heart mostly.’
‘Overeating, I suppose. Look at you.’
‘Yes, yes, that could be true. But eating can be a sort of compensation, compulsory compensation. You’—he turned his head from one to the other—‘have been fortunate. You blame me for keeping my distance all these years. It isn’t that I haven’t thought of you and envied you, and I mean that, envied you. The worst thing that life did to me was to give me the power to draw. But for that, I’d have been here yet.’ He stared at Mary Ellen until her glance fell away. This did not go unnoticed by Hal, and, his voice louder now, he said, ‘Aye, well, you made your choice. You couldn’t get away quick enough. Remember that, man. Anyway, your fame should be some compensation, ’cos your pictures sell they say. Oh—’ He waved his hand now to the seated man, saying, ‘We may be in the back of beyond here, but Hugh and Gabriel are in the town and we get all the news, literary and otherwise, from them. They went to see your last exhibition in the gallery. You were to come and open it, but you didn’t turn up, did you?’
‘I was ill. I only got as far as London.’
‘That was three years ago or more.’
‘Yes. I was told then I had only six months to go, but you see’—he shrugged his shoulders—‘I’m still here. But a fortnight ago I had a London opinion and it seems to be final. Anyway—’ He pulled himself slowly to his feet now, saying, ‘I see you don’t feel you’re able to help me in this, and I can understand. Yes, I can understand.’
Mary Ellen too was on her feet and, looking at him, she said softly, ‘There’s Kate, too, you know, Roddy. What would she think? Because no matter…well…’
When she paused Hal put in roughly, ‘Go on. Go on, say it. I’ve got a skin like a hide, makes no difference to me. They’d be half-sisters. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?’ Then swinging round, he stared at Roddy, saying, ‘I’m sorry for you, that you’ve been given notice like this, but at the same time I’ve got to say this, you’ve got a real bloody nerve. You were born to be a disturber of the peace, d’you know that? All these years we sail along peacefully, or near so, and then you turn up like a hurricane and wreak havoc on…’
‘Hal! Hal, stop it! He knows the situation. He doesn’t need to be reminded. Nor do I.’ Then looking at Roddy again, she said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, but it would be impossible in more ways than one. You can see that, surely?’
‘Yes, yes, I understand, and…and I’m sorry I’ve disturbed you both, but…well…Oh’—he shook his head—‘there’s no need for any more talking.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We should get a train from Haydon Bridge around four o’clock,’ he said. ‘We can just manage it if we leave now.’ A forced smile came on his face as he looked at Hal, saying, ‘Amazing isn’t it, to be able to get a train from Haydon Bridge into Newcastle. Remember the carrier cart? I suppose you have the post delivered now too?’
‘Oh, that’s been delivered for years, and more bother than it’s worth, I may say. At one time you could go to the office and pick up your letters, now they’ll hardly give them to you at the end of the road. Must hand them in at the door. A lot of damned nonsense.’
Mary Ellen now interrupted hesitantly, ‘I…I’ll tell your daughter, and also Tom Briggs, that you’re ready to go…I bet you were surprised to see him still running his own trap?’
‘Yes, yes, I was, Mary Ellen. He must be near eighty, but appears as sprightly as ever.’
She went out, leaving the two men together. And an embarrassed silence fell on them until Hal, his head bent and his words little above a mutter, said, ‘I’m sorry, Roddy. I am. I am, really. No matter what I’ve said, it’s hard to face up to things near the end. I know that, I’ve experienced it a little of late an’ all.’ He tapped his chest. ‘This doesn’t get any better with the years, and I fear one of the bouts will finish me. So I know, too, a little how you feel. And…and about the lass. I…I wish I could do something, but…well, it’s all been said, it would never work out. She would wither here, a lass like that. There’s something about her, a sort of brightness that…this life would dim.’
‘Yes, as you say, there’s something about her, a sort of brightness. But I don’t think this life would dim it, she would shine through it. Still, no more can be said.’ He held out his hand, saying, ‘Goodbye, Hal.’
When Hal took the hand he was unable to speak for a moment and when he did, all he could say was, ‘Aw lad.’ Then they both turned and walked down the room towards the door. When they entered the hall, Mary Ellen, Maggie and the girl were coming in from the kitchen and, going straight to her father, the girl looked up at him and spoke again in rapid French.
Roddy answered in the same tongue, and she stared at him before, turning looking at Mary Ellen, she said, ‘I’m sad…sorry. It…it would have been good…nice.’
Mary Ellen looked into the pale face. It did not look that of a girl any longer, but of some adult, a wise, understanding adult. It gave her a strange uneasy feeling.
‘Viens, papa.’ And the girl took hold of her father’s arm.
‘Your hat,’ he said, and when she looked towards the table, Maggie quickly turned and brought the high-crowned velvet hat to her. And the girl thanked her in French, and put the bonnet on. Then again turning to her father, she took his arm; and like that they went out of the front door and on to the drive where the trap was waiting with John standing by it.
‘Goodbye, John.’ Roddy held out his hand and John shook it, saying, ‘Goodbye, sir.’ Then he looked at the young girl who was looking up at him, and when she said, ‘Goodbye, Jean, and thank you. I much enjoyed the cows,’ he did not speak but, taking her elbow, he helped her up into the trap. And when Tom Briggs called, ‘Gee-up, there!’ and the horse went off at a sharp walk towards the gates, the girl turned and waved, and they all waved back.
No-one spoke as now, instead of entering the house by the front door, it seemed natural for them to walk round the side, down the yard, and into the kitchen; and there John asked abruptly, ‘What did he want?’
Hal turned towards the fireplace and, bending forward, held his hands out to the blaze, while Mary Ellen stood by the table, her hands resting on it as she said, ‘He wanted us to take her. He’s only got a short time…He’s bad, ill.’
There was a long pause before John spoke, saying, his tone holding an unbelieving note, ‘And you wouldn’t?’
‘No. No, we couldn’t. ‘ Mary Ellen’s voice was high now. ‘There’s Kate to think about. And…and she wouldn’t have fitted in here. Just look at her.’
‘I did. What makes you think she wouldn’t have fitted in?’
‘She’s a town girl. She’s…well, convent-bred, polished.’
‘She’s a lonely girl.’ The words were flat, dull sounding from Maggie’s lips, and brought their attention to her. Even her father turned from the fireplace and stared at her as she added, ‘She’s sort of lost.’
‘How, in the name of God, do you make that out, our Maggie?’ Mary Ellen’s head was bouncing now.
‘I don’t know how in the name of God I make it out. I only know what I feel about her, and I don’t see why you couldn’t have let her stay. She’d have brought a little lightness into this place, anyway.’
‘My God! Am I hearin’ aright?’ Her father was at the other side of the table now standing near Mary Ellen. ‘Is life so bloody dull here that it needs a light?’
‘Yes, it is, if you want to know. It’s dull. Dull. And if John here was speaking the truth, he would say the same. What life do we have anyway? A bachelor and an old maid as you’ve dubbed me yourself, Mam. And
you can’t say you haven’t. That girl would have brought some lightness into our existence; talked about another way of life. She was bright, intelligent.’
‘God Almighty! I don’t think I’m hearin’ aright. ‘ Hal brought his hand across his mouth. ‘But, yes I am, because you’ve been cantankerous since the day you were born. You never kept to a pattern. You were determined to be different to other people. If you want a different way of life, you should have been married and had bairns. You had the chances. Who’s to blame but yourself for your dull life, if that’s how you see it? But it’s too late now, so you’ll just have to put up with it, an’ us, won’t you, madam?’
‘Hal! Hal, stop it!’ Mary Ellen had pushed him none too gently, and as he hitched up his coat around his shoulders and went to stamp from the room, he turned his head and spoke to John: ‘Are you in agreement with her?’
And John, looking straight back at him, said, ‘Partly, yes, and I think like she does, if the man’s not long for the top you could have given the lass a home, at least for a time.’ And on that he turned about and went out, banging the door after him.
‘Well, well, home truths are flying around the day. I never thought to live to see it. But Roddy Greenbank’s visit has brought to me mind what I’ve been thinkin’ quite a lot lately, I’ve outlived me time. In fact, I think we are both lucky we have had this long a span.’ He nodded towards Mary Ellen, then went on, ‘The lead should have killed me years ago, and high living him. Well, well, his number’s been called, and who knows?’ He let out a long-drawn sigh and now walked slowly up the room and into the hall. And Mary Ellen, flopping into a chair by the fire, turned and slanted her eyes towards Maggie, saying, ‘See what you’ve stirred up? As he said, you’ve always been cantankerous, always the stirrer.’
Their glances were tightly mingled. Maggie had half turned away as if she was about to make for the back door, her lips were quivering slightly, and the mature beauty of her face was lost behind the tightened muscles. Then each word coated with bitterness, she said, ‘What do you expect from a bonded but unpaid servant?’ And with that she went out, leaving Mary Ellen gaping.
It was about two hours later when Tom Briggs galloped his pony and trap back into the yard, calling as he did so, ‘Hey, there! Hey, there!’
John had just returned from the field with the plough horses and was unharnessing them in the stable when he heard the man calling, and, going out, he was brought to a stop for a moment by the sight of Tom Briggs hurrying now towards the house, and cried, ‘What’s up? What’s wrong?’
‘Everything, man. Everything, I would say. I’ve trailed all kinds of folks over the years in me trap an’ nowt like this’s happened afore.’
‘What, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, he fell over, just flat. Nearly fell out of the trap, and they took him into Peggy Bowen’s cottage, and the lass had a job to hang on to him. She’s in a state, I can tell you. ’Tis a good job we were near Peggy Bowen’s. But we could hardly get him in, ’tis so cluttered. She has everything in there but her goats. Tell you the truth, she didn’t want to let us in. It should happen that Mickey McGuire was passing at the time, off to set his traps no doubt. He’ll get caught one of these days, he will. Anyway, he gave us a hand, and there we laid him on the mat. And then Mickey, who can move faster than any horse when he likes, cut over the field to Haydon Bridge an’ fetched the doctor. Doctor Brunton was laid up with his leg again so his assistant came out, but he was too late, he was dead.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, he was dead, the big fellow.’
‘Oh, my God!’ John now turned and, yelling, ‘Mam! Dad!’ rushed into the kitchen.
The sound of his yelling brought Maggie from the barn and she arrived at the house just as John was holding open the door for his mother to enter from the far end.
‘What did you say?’ Mary Ellen was staring at John.
‘He’s dead. That’s what Tom Briggs has just come to tell us. He collapsed, and they took him into Peggy Bowen’s cottage.’
‘Oh my God!’ She turned back into the hall and called loudly. ‘Hal! Hal!’
And when he appeared from the office she said, ‘Come…come and hear this. Roddy’s dead, collapsed.’
Hal stared from one to the other, then moved slowly past them into the kitchen. Tom Briggs was now standing beside Maggie, and as soon as he saw Hal, he blurted, ‘Lass is in a state. She had me come back here for one of you. She keeps rambling on in her foreign tongue.’
‘Get me hat and cape,’ Mary Ellen demanded of Maggie; then turning to Hal, she said, ‘You should come an’ all.’
‘Aye, yes.’ He sounded slightly dazed, but when John put in, ‘I’ll go, Dad,’ his relief was obvious. ‘Aye, aye. You’d likely be more use than me,’ he said.
‘I’ll change me boots.’ John began to unlace his heavy working boots, and these off, he hurried up the kitchen and in the hall he met Maggie who stopped him and, gripping his arm, said, ‘Bring her back with you.’
‘I’ll have to see…Mam.’
‘She’ll have no place else to go. They’ll put him in the mortuary; you can’t leave her in an inn by herself. Bring her back.’
He stared at her in the gloom of the hall. Maggie had always appeared to him to be indifferent to other people’s feelings, yet now she seemed set on having this girl in the house. He hadn’t before fully realised her need for younger company, having imagined he was the only one who was chaffing at the bit. ‘I’ll…I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.
A few minutes later both he and Mary Ellen mounted the trap, and Tom Briggs called, ‘Gee-up, there!’ and the pony went trotting out of the yard.
It took them forty minutes to reach Peggy Bowen’s cottage, and Mary Ellen’s reaction as she entered the room was to wrinkle her nose against the smell. Then she stopped still and looked at the bulk of the man stretched out on the floor, and her chest became constricted and her throat full.
Slowly she walked towards him. Her eyes were dry, but her sight seemed blurred. She let her gaze rest on the face, and this gradually came into focus. The puffiness had gone from it, the lines were smoothed out, there beneath the skin lay the Roddy Greenbank she remembered, the boy she had loved with a possessiveness that, with the years, grew almost into mania, and nothing had restrained her until he should possess her. But it was she who had possessed him. Even so, from his reluctance had come Kate. And now there he was, lying dead, a big, bloated man. She became aware of John lifting the girl to her feet and of her looking up at him and muttering brokenly, ‘Mon père. Mon père. What I do without him? What I do?’
‘’Tis all right. You’re coming home with us.’
At this the girl looked across at Mary Ellen and said, ‘Yes, but…but my father?’ Her hand waved slowly in the air like a benediction over the prostrate form, and it was as if she knew she had to endeavour to make this woman understand, whereas the woman’s son understood without explanation.
It was not Mary Ellen who answered her question but Peggy Bowen. ‘To the dead house, hospital,’ she said. ‘The sooner the better. Can’t get stirred.’
‘No, no, not hospital.’ The girl turned and looked at John, and he looked at his mother and said quietly, ‘We should take him back home.’
‘Take him back now?’ It was a bewildered question, and John answered, ‘Yes. There’ll have to be arrangements made. He’ll have to be buried. You and Dad…well, you were his friends.’
‘Yes, but…’ She seemed in a daze.
John now caught hold of Tom Briggs’ arm and, drawing him through the door on to the rough grass, said, ‘Slip along, Tom, to Patterton’s farm and ask them for a loan of a horse and flat cart. Tell them what’s happened.’
‘Aye, all right. But who’s goin’ to stand the racket for all this?’
‘I’ll see you’re paid.’
‘An’ will I tell Patterton the same about the horse and cart?’
‘Mr Patterton w
on’t mind loaning the horse and cart.’ John’s voice was sharp. ‘But to make it easier, you can tell him if you like, only get going.’
John did not return to the cottage immediately, but he stood looking over the unkept ground to where four goats were tethered and hens were scratching and geese cackling. But he didn’t see these, it was as if he were looking into a clear sky. There was a strange feeling within him, a feeling he seemed to be dragging back from past years, from the time when he was on the point of asking Nan Cody to be his wife, then changed his mind at the last minute. Yet what this feeling had to do with the dead man and the girl back in the cottage, he couldn’t understand. There was no seeming connection. But what came over with the feeling, and strongly, was the knowledge that here he was, forty years old, and that life had passed him by.
Three
Roddy Greenbank’s return in such a dramatic way had stirred the memories of the older people. Many of them made a point of attending the funeral and, later, related the history to those who did not know the full details of the events that had taken place some forty years earlier. But the talk was centred mostly upon the daughter Roddy Greenbank had left behind him and who was the half-sister of Mrs Hamilton, who had been known as Kate Roystan, but who had really been fathered by the man who had dropped down dead on the road after visiting Mrs Roystan, for what purpose nobody seemed to have been able to find out, only that he had made his way from Haydon Bridge station and hired Tom Briggs’ trap.
Another thing that set the tongues wagging was that the Roystan woman had attended the funeral together with the young girl and Mrs Hamilton. And there was never such a contrasting pair as the half-sisters as they stood by the side of the grave, one as big as a house-end, the other such a slip of a thing the wind could have blown her away…
It was about the contrast between herself and her half-sister that Kate was speaking now to her mother. Mary Ellen was upstairs in her room resting, which was something she very rarely indulged in. But the past ten days had taken their toll on her, and she was now both physically and mentally exhausted. She hitched herself slowly up on the couch as Kate, who was sitting beside the window, said, ‘I still can’t take it in about the relationship.’
A Dinner of Herbs (The Bannaman Legacy) Page 63