The Man Who Cried

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The Man Who Cried Page 5

by Catherine Cookson


  Look after her, she needs someone. I’m sorry it can’t be me.”

  ”So am I ... I hope you find work.”

  ”I shall. Thanks again for this.” He flapped the pound note gently. ”Good-bye.”

  ”Good-bye, Abel. Good-bye.”

  ’ They had turned from her and gone a few yards when her words came to them softly as if she had laid them on the mist and blown them forward. ”I’ll always remember you,” they said, ”as the man who had little to say, but looked a lot.”

  It was some seconds later when Abel turned and glanced back, but she was no longer there.

  ”Don’t cry.”

  ”I’m not, Dad, I’m not.”

  He didn’t know why he was denying it for he could hear himself crying. He was crying because of the great sadness that was choking him. He was cold, he wished he was back in the bunk, he 35

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  wished his dad could have liked the lady. He had liked Daphne, they had laughed together.

  As the sky lightened he saw the day stretching away into eternity and during it he knew he would be hungry and tired, his legs would ache and he would have more blisters on his feet. Why couldn’t his dad have liked the lady ?

  It took them twelve days to reach the outskirts of Leeds. For most of the way they had kept to the Great North Road, diverting from it only at night to find some place to shelter. ~ Dick didn’t chatter on the j ourneys now ; although he didn’t feel so tired at the end of the day and his legs had stopped paining there was one blister on his foot that refused to heal, and he wished, oh how he wished, that they didn’t have to walk any . ~ more, and that the men, particularly the young ones, they met up with on the road would stop calling out such things as, ”You’re goin’ the wrong way, mate.”

  He didn’t want to go back to his mother but he wished he could go back home and sleep in a bed.

  . . .

  Abel was well aware of what was going on in the boy’s mind and within himself a feeling of desperation was growing rapidly. He was down to his last sixpence. The past three days they had eaten sparingly, even after standing from five o’clock that morning in a baker’s shop queue to get a share of the stale bread and cakes that were sold off cheaply, and then stuffing themselves with the dry buns and broken pastry, they were still hungry.

  Yesterday he had so pleaded with a farmer for a job that the man, becoming irritated, had sworn at him. One thing was certain, tonight he had to make for the nearest workhouse if only to give the child a meal and a night’s rest in a bed of sorts.

  Earlier in the day he had decided to leave the main road and its vicinity, hoping that in the villages further away from the traffic there would be more chance of something turning up. That was the phrase that was on the lips of every man he had spoken to on this journey. They were hoping for something to turn up.

  He had drawn out a rough map of the road he must take but as 36

  he sat looking at it now he realized that he had wandered someway off it because a signpost a dozen yards away stated: Leeds 5 miles. And he had imagined he had glimpsed it from the last rise. Well, perhaps he had, distance was deceptive. Nevertheless, they were both too tired to waste their steps, and so he must make sure of where he was.

  ”Sit there a minute,” he said in a soothing tone; ”I’m just goin’ up that bank to have a look round.”

  At one time the boy would have cried, ”I’ll come along with you, Dad,” but not now; whenever he had the chance to sit, he sat.

  From the top of the rise Abel again viewed through the smoky haze the blurred horizon of a straggling town, but much nearer he could see a huddle of roofs, indicating a quite large village, and nearer still, not more than half a mile away, over two stubbly fields was a house, a large house, and near it a range of buildings.

  He had already decided it wasn’t a farm, then he noticed some animals moving about in a field beyond the house. He screwed up his eyes against the light and muttered to himself, ”Pigs.” He had never liked pigs. Sheep, cows, horses, any other animals could draw his hand to them but not pigs. But who knew, this might be the one place where he would be lucky. He went down the bank and had swung the rucksack on to his shoulders before he said, ”Come on; there’s a place down there that looks likely. They keep pigs.”

  Dick was trailing some yards behind him when he came to the gate leading to the yard and the house, and he stood waiting leaning against it taking in what was before him. It was evident that the house, a large sprawling one and stone built, had never seen paint for years, and what he could see of the yard showed him that it was no farmyard, it was more like the courtyard at Lady Parker’s with half a dozen horse boxes going off one side of it, with the doors on the other side, he surmised, leading to harness rooms and storerooms. What he could see from where he stood, and close to the house, were two great open doors leading into a barn.

  He could offer the owner his labour in exchange for sleeping dry in there tonight at any rate, and by the look of things at first glance the place was in need of labour. In any case, if he were to reach the workhouse in Leeds he’d have to pay hard with a full day’s work 37

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  tomorrow for their night’s stay: nobody gave you anythjjlg for nothing. No, no; they didn’t.

  He was about to open the gate when a chorus of squeals and screams came to him from somewhere beyond the house and he reckoned those pigs in that field were getting some slop.

  The place looked deserted but if he were right in his reckoning the owner would be seeing to his animals, and so he decided to go round the back of the house. But first, he took off his pack and, laying it on the ground, said to Dick, ”Sit on it; I’m going to see if I can find somebody.”

  When the boy again made no reply, Abel gazed at him sadly for a moment, then gulped deeply in his throat before walking slowly along what had once been a short drive but which was now hardly discernible for the matted grass covering it.

  As he passed the front door of the house he looked towards it. It was obviously made of solid oak but was now weather-beaten to a whitish grey.

  Before rounding the side of the house he cast a glance towards the barn-like building. Just inside he could make out two stalls divided by stout pillars and there was a quantity of loose straw in one of them.

  He was just turning the corner at the back of the house when he started visibly as he almost ran into the apparition, because that’s how he viewed her from the beginning. What age she was he couldn’t make out. She was a tall woman, and wisps of hair from under the battered trilby hat showed her to be fair, or was she white ? Her face was long, lean, and weather-beaten, yet his first impression was of a delicate etherealness. Even under the bulky, old army top-coat she was wearing he could sense her thinness, and the oddness of her was made clear by the long mud-stained flowery dress that fell to the top of her boots, men’s boots, again which had an army flavour about them and in which he guessed her feet could float, so big were they.

  He was the first to speak. ”I’m sorry, ma’am; I was looking for the owner.”

  When she put out her hand and her fingers gently touched his arm he felt inclined to spring back, but restrained himself. She couldn’t possibly be the owner, yet he told himself as he stared at her that her appearance linked her with the place. He almost stammered as he said, ”I ... I was wondering if you would allow us,

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  my son and me, to sleep in your barn tonight ? I’d do any odd job you wanted in payment.”

  He now watched her draw in a breath that seemed to make her even taller and when she spoke he was amazed at the sound of her voice, for it had a high cultured tone. He recalled his late employer ; she too had spoken like this, only not so high.

  ”Who sent you?”

  ”Nobody, ma’am ... I mean, we are making our way North, we were goin’ on to Leeds, but it’s coming on to drizzle and my son i
s very tired.”

  ”Who sent you?”

  He shook his head. ”I told you, ma’am, nobody.”

  ”Oh, yes they did. God sent you. I knew He would.”

  When he half turned away and looked to the side, her voice and manner changed completely, so much so that he was startled again. Her tone, still high, was brisk now, even businesslike as she cried, ”Yes, yes, of course you may stay the night, and . . . and I’d be glad of your help. Oh yes, I’d be glad of your help; although mind it isn’t everyone I take on. Come. Come, I’ll show you.

  You can sleep in the barn. Are you hungry?”

  She had walked on in front of him and now she paused and looked over her shoulder, and again that strange ethereal quality forced an impression on him, causing him to blink twice wondering whether or not he were dreaming. Then he answered her, saying hesitantly, ”Well, yes; you could say we are a bit hungry, ma’am.”

  ”I thought you would be, they’re all hungry; and that makes them weak, you know, and so they can’t work. The old men just want to be fed, while the young ones just want money. This is the barn, you may sleep in there. There aren’t any rats, the cats see to them. I have fourteen cats. I don’t like dogs; fawning creatures, dogs; cats run their own lives, I run my own life.” She turned on him suddenly now, saying, ”You’re not to come to the house for anything, I’ll bring your food here. You understand ?”

  ”Yes, yes, I understand.”

  She walked to the front of the barn now where she stopped and looked towards the gate, then asked slowly, ”Is that your boy ?”

  ”Yes.”

  ”I don’t like children but I’ll put up with him if you work well. You’d better get bedded down because I expect you up at five in

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  the morning, mind, not later.” She was wagging hef finger at him now, and when she turned away and walked towards the back of ’!. the house he stared after her for a moment before going’slowly to

  !i the gate and saying quietly to Dick, ”Come on.”

  i They had scarcely got the rucksack unpacked and their bedding

  •ii out when the high voice came to them from the open doorway.

  I ”There it is! Five o’clock mind, not later.”

  He had no time to answer before she disappeared and he was about to go forward when Dick spoke for the first time in hours, saying in an awe-filled voice, ”Who’s that, Dad ?”

  ”She’s the worn . . . the lady who owns this place.” ;j ”She looks funny.”

  j ”Funny or not, she’s given us the chance of a good night’s rest.”

  ’•j*** When he reached the barn door he looked at the tray. It had on it a mug of steaming cocoa, a small loaf of apparently home-made bread, a hunk of cheese, a piece of belly pork, and a slab of butter. Well - he nodded to himself - however odd she may appear she kept her larder well stocked. Apparently she knew how to bake, ! too, unless she had someone in the house doing it for her. ” •

  i As he laid the tray on the straw he glanced up at his son as he

  | said, ”What about that?”

  S| ”Oh! Dad, it looks good.”

  ”It’ll taste better. Come on, let’s tuck in. Here, take a drink of this hot cocoa for a start.”

  ; For the first time in days Abel saw the boy smile as he wiped the I ’ thick cocoa from his mouth, and he wished it was in himself to

  ! smile too, but he felt uneasy : she was queer that woman, odd. It wasn’t only the way she dressed and the state of the place, it wasn’t i only the things she said, it was how she said them. There was

  ! something uncanny about her.

  He slept well, and he aroused himself quietly at first light so as not to disturb the boy, and was in the yard at five minutes to five. But she was there before him, and immediately she gave him his orders. He had to clean out the pigsties, then take the slops to the pigs; afterwards, he had to set about clearing up the yard.

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  She didn’t allot any jobs to the boy, Abel noticed. She seemed bent on ignoring him completely; he couldn’t be there for all the notice she took of him. The one mug of cocoa last night had been a pointer.

  It was well past eight o’clock before Dick made his appearance. He came on Abel at a run and leant against the wall of the pigsties gasping, ”I couldn’t find you, Dad, an’ there’s nobody about.” Then after another gasp he added, ”Do we get any breakfast, Dad?”

  ”There’s no sign of it yet, but I’ll be finished here in a minute and then we’ll go looking.”

  ”This place stinks.”

  ”Yes, it stinks.”

  ”It looks as if it’s been a long time since they were cleaned out. Have you dug all that mound out this mornin’, Dad ?”

  Dick pointed to a large heap of manure some distance from the sties.

  ”Yes, I have,” Abel said ; ”an’ me back’s letting me know it.” He gave a slight smile. ”That’s what comes of being lazy for days.”

  ”Your boots are all messed up.”

  ”They’ll clean.”

  ”It’s a good job you turned your trousers up. . . .” -

  ”You there!” The voice came from the direction of the yard and they both turned quickly and looked towards the woman, and she pointed back to the barn, saying, ”Your breakfast’s there.”

  ”Thank you.” Abel nodded; then throwing the shovel aside he walked towards her, saying,

  ”Where can we clean up ?”

  ”There’s a pump round the corner of the yard. What’s your name ?”

  ”Abel Mason.”

  She nodded three times, then said, ”Abel. Abel. Hah! I thought you were sent by God, and your name proves it. Now after you’ve eaten you’ll start on the yard. Get all the grass up between the slabs. I should think that will take you up till this evening; then tomorrow you can continue down the drive. I have five acres of land here, that’s all, just five acres.” She shook her head. ”Can you believe that, just five acres ? It used to be five hundred, and before that a thousand. But we’ll clear those five acres, you and me. Yes, we will.”

  As she took two steps nearer to him her features spread into a 4*

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  smile and at the sight he felt himself once again recoiling from her.

  His jaw tightened for a moment; then he asked a question. ”What wages are you offering, ma’am?”

  She seemed surprised and she repeated, ”Wages? Oh, wages.

  Well, you’ll get your food and your bed and . . . and a pound a week. A pound” - she was nodding again - ”that should be | enough for your requirements.

  Money isn’t everything. Money is

  a curse, do you know that ? If you have money everybody wants it; you have no friends if you have money. The only true friend one has is God and” - she was smiling again - ”He has answered my prayers. At last He has answered my prayer.” After three more nods of her head towards him, she turned

  about and stalked, which was the only word that could describe her walk . . . towards the house. -.if» In the barn, Abel looked down on the large tray which held a

  teapot, a jug of milk, one mug, one plate, a knife and fork, another j small loaf of bread, and a covered dish. When he lifted the lid of

  the dish and saw two fried eggs flanked by two thick slices of ham I he heaved a deep sigh, then turning to Dick, he said, ”Fetch your

  plate and mug.”

  When the boy returned with the plate he said quietly, ”She didn’t mean me to have any, did she, Dad? She never looks at me or speaks to me.”

  Abel didn’t answer him, but set about dividing the food; then I they both sat down on a wooden plank that ran alongside the

  stalls and they ate in silence.

  I Abel was just about to say, ”We’re leaving here, son,” when a

  ! sudden shower of rain hitting the roof of the barn brought his eyes upwa
rds. Since dawn the sky had promised rain and now it had come, and it was heavy, and he couldn’t, he decided, take the boy out in it.

  They had hardly finished their meal when the woman appeared at the door of the barn again, saying and without any preamble now, ”The rain needn’t stop you working, there’re sacks in the corner there to put over you.” He made no reply, he just sat and stared at her, and she, too, stared back at him for a moment before turning away and disappearing from his view. He had seen some weird creatures in his time but this one, he

  told himself, took the cake.

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  ”Will I come out and help you, Dad ?”

  ”No, no, you won’t!” His voice was harsh. ”You stay where you are in the dry.”

  ”All day?”

  ”Yes, all day if it comes to that. ...”

  And it was all day. For most of the time Dick stood within the door of the barn and watched his father, who looked like a giant hunchback under the pointed sack covering his head and shoulders and part of his back, scrape out the long grass from between the stones of the yard. At intervals he would come into the barn and change the sack for a dry one, but he didn’t speak to him; and something about his father’s face warned the boy to be quiet.

  The dinnertime meal was again pork, and when around four o’clock Abel walked slowly into the barn and, having divested himself of the sack and his wet coat, slumped down on to the plank of wood and after wiping his face on the towel that Dick had taken out of the rucksack he looked at his son and said, ”Rain, snow, or hail, we go in the morning.” The words and the tone in which they were said were as if the boy had been protesting at the prospect of leaving.

  ”Will she pay you for the day, Dad ?”

  ”That I’ll have to find out ”

  And he found out an hour later when she came scurrying into the barn carrying another tray.

  Under other circumstances he would have said, ”I’ll come and fetch the tray, ma’am;” but not with this one.

  What she said to him right away was, ”You finished early.”

 

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