The Man Who Cried

by Catherine Cookson

  ”Yes, yes, I should say so.” She nodded her head. ”Yes, of course you may sleep outside. There’s rooms above the garage. They’re in a bit of a mess ; I haven’t been up there since Jimmy went, I haven’t had time. Jimmy, by the way, was our hand, he helped Mr Maxwell, he died a fortnight ago. He ... he suffered from gas from the war, but he was a good worker. We miss him.”

  During the time she had been talking she had cleared the table, put the dishes in the sink, washed out milk bottles, and put the rice pudding dishes and the shepherd’s pie dish in to soak. Then walking towards the door and without looking at him, she said, ”Come along and I’ll show you the room.”

  They mounted a dark stairway set between two garages, and followed her through a door at the stairhead, where she switched on a light to reveal what apparently was a living-room. In it was an old couch, two armchairs, a bookcase, and two tables, one in the middle of the room, the other standing under a dormer window, and on this one was a gas ring and some cooking utensils.

  ”It’s in a mess, he was never very tidy, and he couldn’t cook for himself. He had his main meal with us, but he made his tea and odds and ends on there.” She pointed to the table under the 71

  window. ”There’s no heating except from the oil stove.” She again pointed, to the corner of the room now. ”But he-didn’t mind that; when he wasn’t working he was mostly out at nights.” She gave a jerk to her head, then added quickly, ”But he was a good worker, none better. This is the bedroom. I’m afraid to look at it, the mess it’ll be in.” She thrust open a door and showed a dishevelled bed, an equally cluttered wash-hand stand, and a chest of drawers. ”The other room is just full of his junk.” She pointed to another door, then added, ”He died in hospital. He had no people. . . . Well, if you can put up with this -” She turned and faced him.

  He smiled quietly down on her as he said, ”At the moment, ma’am, it has the appearance of a palace to me.”

  ”Tut . . . tut.” She clicked her tongue, then added, ”Well, bring your things up. But first sort out what is wet and leave them in the kitchen, they’ll be dry in the morning.”

  ”Thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much indeed.”

  He watched her go towards the door. All her movements were quick, brisk like her voice. She looked so young and very much alive and she was married to that man! He must be fifty if he was a day. Anyway, they had been the means of providing them with a night’s shelter, and for the time being that was all that mattered. He looked at Dick and smiled as he said, ”We’ll be all right here, eh?”

  ”Yes, Dad.” Dick nodded, then said slowly, ”The house was nice, wasn’t it, Dad?”

  Abel turned away from the look on the pale thin face and from the eyes that held such weariness, and he answered flatly, ”Yes, very nice.”

  ”The kitchen was lovely and warm, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen such a big kitchen. An’ the young lady, she’s nice an’ all, isn’t she?”

  Abel bit on his lip, then turned and went into the bedroom. Here, flinging back the rumpled covers from the bed, he looked at the sheets. They were clean, comparatively so anyway. He put his hand on them. At least they were dry.

  ”It would make a nice house this, wouldn’t it, Dad ?”

  He was still leaning over the bed - he hadn’t heard the boy come into the room - and he remained so, his hand flat on the sheet as he said slowly, ”We’re only here for the night; make the 72

  best of it, but don’t start dreaming.” Raising himself slowly, he looked down on the boy, and the pain in the wide brown eyes stabbed at him with their misery. Turning abruptly from him, he said, ”Come on, let’s get our things up.”

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  Wi

  ’ 1^)

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  Strange, the bed had been comfortable. After having eaten another meal which she had called a bite, his belly had felt cornfortably full too, and although every bone in his body had ached with tiredness, he hadn’t been able to get to sleep for hours, and so when through a daze he heard the knocking on the door he imagined he had just dropped off.

  Sitting up abruptly, he held his head in his hands for a moment, then pressed his thumbs against his eyeballs before swinging his legs out of the bed. After pulling on his trousers he made towards the door and when he opened it and saw her standing with her back to him placing a tray on the table he muttered, ”Oh ... oh I’m sorry. I must have slept in.”

  ”It’s all right. There’s a jug of tea. Come down when you’re ready and have something to eat.”

  ”Thank you. Thank you, ma’am.”

  He went back to the bed and shook Dick gently by the shoulder, saying, ”Come on. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

  The boy hardly moved, and he had to shake him again and pull him from his side on to his back before he could get him awake.

  ”Yes, Dad. Aye, Dad.”

  ”There’s some nice hot tea here. Come on. Just put your jacket around you.”

  ”What time is it, Dad?”

  ”Nigh on eight. We slept in.”

  It was quarter past eight when Abel knocked on the kitchen door and her voice came to them immediately, saying, ”Come in. Come on in.”

  They stepped into the kitchen and both stopped. Everything looked bright, sunlit; the sun was shining outside but in this

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  room the light seemed intensified. The table was set for breakfast on a blue bordered cloth; the china, blue willow patterned, looked thick, chubby. The walls of the kitchen, Abel noticed, were painted yellow and the curtains were blue. They were what he termed to himself airy-fairy curtains for they were wafting in the breeze from the doorway. The floor was stone, made up of great slate coloured slabs but their dullness was relieved by coloured rugs ; they weren’t clippy mats like he remembered from the northern kitchens of years ago, these were real rugs.

  ”Sit yourself down. I hope you like porridge.”

  ”Anything, ma’am.” His voice sounded hoarse.

  ”And how are we this morning?” She was smiling down on Dick.

  ”All right, ma’am.”

  She laughed outright at him and when he smiled back at her she said, ”That’s better.”

  ”Now there you are, tuck in, and I’m sure you won’t say no to some bacon and eggs.”

  Abel could make no reply. Picking up his spoon, he began slowly to eat the porridge, but before he could swallow it he had to force each mouthful over a lump in his throat. For a moment his mind seemed to go hysterical and he yelled at himself, My God ! don’t do that. He was on the point of crying. Why, he couldn’t exactly say. He had never felt like this since the day he had run into the wood and beaten his head against that tree.

  When he turned his head to the side and blew his nose, she said, ”What is it ? Don’t you like porridge ?”

  ”Oh. Oh yes, ma’am, yes.” He kept his head down. ”I’ve got a bit of a cold, that’s all.”

  ”Oh, and no wonder. Wet through as you were, as both of you were, it’s a wonder you haven’t caught pneumonia. By the way, when you’ve finished your meal, Mr Maxwell would like to have a word with you. He’s much better this morning.”

  ”Oh, I’m glad to hear that, ma’am.”

  ”It was a very bad turn he had. He tells me it was a lonely road and he could have been left out there all night if you hadn’t happened by, and . . . and that would surely have been the end of him. I’ve rung for the doctor. I don’t always because I’m used to his turns, but he was in a bad way last night and he won’t rest for me, it’s only the doctor that can make him stay in bed for a few days.”

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  8*»

  ”What . . . what is his trouble, ma’am?” -|(

  ”Mostly bronchial asthma, but . . . well, of late years his heart’s turned on him. That’s what I’m afraid he had yesterday, a heart attack. He said it wasn’t, it was just the asthma. By the way, what is your name ?”

  ”Er . . . Gray. Gray, ma’am, Abel Gray. And my boy is called Dick.”<
br />
  ”Oh.” She nodded from one to the other; then pointing to a shelf above the oven she said, ”When you’re ready your breakfast is there; I’ll be upstairs. When you’ve finished make your way up.”

  ”Yes, ma’am.”

  The room to themselves, they looked at each other across the table and Dick said in a small voice, ”It’s a lovely breakfast, isn’t it, Dad?”

  ”Yes, yes it is, so make the best of it, eat your fill.”

  ”You haven’t eaten all your porridge, Dad.”

  ”No, but I’m going to, I’ll get through it. You carry on.”

  The bacon and egg and fried bread was delicious but he had to force himself to eat it. In panic, he wondered if he were sickening for something.

  The meal over, he went to the sink and washed his hands, wet his comb under the tap, and combed his hair back, pulled his jacket straight at the back and the front, then saying to the boy,

  ”Sit there until I come back,” he went out of the kitchen and into the hall and slowly mounted the stairs, and when he was outside the bedroom door he paused for a moment before knocking.

  ”Come in. Come in.”

  When he entered the room he saw the man sitting in bed propped up with pillows. He looked older, if anything, this morning, his age seeming to be emphasized by the youthfulness of his wife.

  ”Good morning, sir. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  ”Aw yes, I’m feeling fine, thanks be to God . . . and to you.” He smiled slowly; then nodding his head, he added, ”For a man who said he didn’t know anything about cars you did very well.”

  ”Thank you, sir.”

  ”My wife says your name is Gray, Mr Abel Gray.”

  ”Yes, sir.’ Kr

  ”Well, Abel, I’m going to ask you some questions and I waÉ*

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  truthful answers. A lot will depend on them, you understand?”

  ”Yes, sir.”

  ”You are on the road, that is evident, but that’s no disgrace these days except that you are trailing a young child with you. Now why is that?”

  Abel looked down unblinking into the man’s eyes now. He had asked for the truth and what would be the result if he were to tell him the truth : within the next five minutes he’d be going out under that gateway. If he told a lie, it was possible that tonight he’d be sleeping up above those garages again, but more important, the boy would be sleeping up above those garages again. He still hadn’t blinked when he said, ”I suffered an emotional loss, sir.” That sounded good to his ears, and it was true. Oh yes, it was true. Alice, dear, dear Alice had been an emotional loss.

  ”Well . . . yes, we thought it might be that.” The man turned and looked at his wife. ”Well now, have you ever been in trouble . . . prison?”

  ”No, sir, no, never.” It was the second lie, but his denial was emphatic because he didn’t consider his term in the army prison the result of an offence on his part.

  ”Do you drink?”

  ”I ... I used to have a glass of beer when I could afford it but I’ve never tasted it for the last two months or more.”

  ”Good, good. How long have you been on the road, just the two months?”

  ”Yes, sir, just about that.”

  ”Well now, my first question is, do you think you could do without drink altogether ?”

  ”I’m sure I could, sir; it isn’t important to me.”

  ”Good, good. Now one more question, what is your religion ?”

  Abel did blink now; he hadn’t any religion, he didn’t even believe in a god. He’d had doubts before he was dragged into the war but that massacre, in which he would take no part and was therefore branded, had eliminated from his mind once and for all any idea of a benevolent deity.

  The same question had been asked of him when he was conscripted, and when he had answered,

  ”None,” they had put him down as C. of E.

  Again he was seeing the rooms above the garages but now he was there, shaking Dick out of a deep sleep, a warm deep sleep, a deep sleep that had taken place in a bed, and so his voice was low

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  ,0

  and his words hesitant as he said, ”I suppose you could say I’m Church of England, sir.”

  ”I suppose I could say . . . that means you’ve never kept it up ?”

  ”That’s right, sir, I’ve never kept it up.”

  ”Well, you’re honest about it so there’s hope for you yet.” The man was smiling now, then he went on, ”Now more questions, but technical this time. You said you hadn’t driven a car but that you had driven tractors if I remember rightly ?”

  ”Yes, sir; and a lorry during the war.”

  ”Are you mechanically minded?”

  ”Well, I had to maintain the lorry and the tractor, but they’re different from the motor-cars of today. I’m speaking of fifteen N years ago, sir.”

  ”Would you like to deal with cars, I mean maintain them ?”

  Abel swallowed deeply ; then quietly and with great feeling, he said, ”Sir, I’d like to deal with anything that would provide us with shelter, my boy and me.”

  ”Well, that’s what I’m offering you. But not only shelter, I’m offering you good employment if you are suitable. We’ll take each other on trust for a month and see what transpires.”

  ”Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. And I promise you ...”

  ”Ah! Ah! Now never make a promise that you don’t think you can keep.”

  ”Sir, I can promise you I’ll keep this one, and that is I’ll give you of my best any hour of the day and night that you need me.”

  The man now turned and looked at his young wife, saying, ”I didn’t think I was mistaken, Hilda.

  I very rarely am, am I ?”

  ”No, you’re very rarely mistaken, Peter.”

  ”Sir.”

  ”Yes?” . :

  ”I notice that you deal in bicycles too; well, I know quite a bit about bicycles, I can take one to pieces and put it together again and . . .”

  ”And so can Benny Laton.” The man took in a deep breath, then said, ”I must put you in the picture about Benny, he’s a boy I’ve had here since he was fourteen. He’s a genius with bikes but” he now tapped his head - ”God has destined that the poor lad cannot use his mind, he is backward there. But you or nobody else could beat Benny at mending a bike. God taketh away but He

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  also giveth and He has given that boy a unique ability. No, from now on it’s the car side of the business I want you for, and when I get on my feet, which will be tomorrow or the next day, we will get down to work together. In the meantime I’ll give you the next two days to get those rooms cleaned out, for my wife tells me they are in a bit of a state, so get yourself settled in because once I get on my feet you’ll have no time for housekeeping.” He pressed his lips tightly together as he smiled and, turning to his wife, he asked, ”Isn’t that so, Hilda?”

  ”Yes, yes, it is, Peter.”

  Abel stood for a moment longer; then nodding first to one and then to the other he turned about and went quickly out of the room ; and when he reached the head of the stairs he had the desire to leap down. He had said it would need a miracle and the miracle had come about.

  At the foot of the stairs he stopped and looked back up towards the landing. Funny that he should ask for a miracle and it had to be given to him by one of the heavy religious sort. But then it could have been offered to him by the devil and he would have danced to his tune. There was only one thing he must do now, to tell the boy, or to put it plainer, to prime the boy.

  He went into the kitchen and, grabbing Dick by the hand, he pulled the astonished boy from the seat out into the yard, up the stairs, and into the cluttered sitting-room, and there, dropping down on to the couch, he drew him towards him to stand between his knees and, gripping his hand, he said, ”What would you say if I told you you could stay here ... we could stay here?”

  Dick opened his mouth and clos
ed it twice before he said, ”Oh! Dad, I would shout, I would shout. And then I would -” His voice trailed away and he muttered again, ”Oh! Dad. Dad!”

  ”Don’t cry, son. Don’t cry. There! There!” He drew the boy into his arms and hugged him tight; then he screwed up his own eyes and sucked his lips in between his teeth in an effort to stop the tears falling, but even so they spread over his face and on to the boy’s hair.

  After a moment he hastily rubbed his face with the back of his hand and, pressing the boy from him, said, ”But there’s one snag.

  • . . You know what a snag means ?” He waited, and when Dick gave him no answer, he said, ”In this case it’s something that can stop us staying here, something that can send us tramping on the 79

  road again in the wet with no place to sleep. That’s what I mean by a snag. Understand ? Well, it’s like this. You know I told you that your name from now on is Gray not Mason, didn’t I?”

  Dick nodded slowly at him.

  ”Well now, if these people knew that . . . that I had taken you away from your mother and made you tramp the road with me and through this awful weather, they would have nothing to do with me; we ... we would be out as I said. And so your mother is dead, you understand? You understand?” He shook Dick gently. ”If anybody asks you about your mother, she’s dead, and that’s why we left Hastings and came North. Now you understand, Dick, don’t you ? Tell me you understand.”

  ^ -^p» The boy stared at his father for a long moment before he said, ”I’ve got to say me mam’s dead?”

  ”Yes, always remember that. She’s not back there in the cottage, she’s dead. That’s the only way we can stay here. If you ever say your mother’s alive, then . . . Well, I don’t have to repeat it again, do I?” -••••-•• •>:•• ’ -

  ”No, Dad.” •- -v; ’ r

  ”You want to stay here, don’t you?” T

  ”Oh yes, Dad, yes. And the lady’s nice.”

  Abel turned his head to the side. All the ladies had been nice to the boy, except the mad woman.

  He knew the symptom, the need for mother love, and this latest one was to him likely the nicest of all. And for himself too, oh aye. And the safest, because she was married. And with both her and him being religious, there’d be no hanky-panky here as on the boat or with that maniac. No, if he worked for them as he would work, he could be set for years ahead. The boy would have schooling and he perhaps would have peace of mind in time when Alice sank below the pain in his heart.