I catch him looking at me at times now as if he were trying to make out what kind of fellow I really am. But then I think he has already made up his own mind about me.”
”But I remember he doted on you. I can recall Hilda being irritated by him always following you about. She said it was ’Yes, Dad. No, Dad,’ from morn till night.”
”That may have been so years ago but more recently his attitude has changed. I know he just can’t understand how I can go on from day to day, and when he laughs too loudly or goes into dead silences, as he’s doing more of late, I’ve had the urge to get him by the shoulders and bawl at him, ’All right! All right! What am I to do ? Go and give myself up ? You can work for your living now, there’s nothing to keep me here only . . .’ ”
”Yes, only . . .” She nodded her head slowly, and he repeated her words, ”Yes, only”; then added, ”Sometimes I’m so sorry for her, Florrie. When she’s in one of her rare good moods and fussing over us I think, I’ll tell her. I’ll come clean, I’ll tell her. She’ll understand. And then as like as not she’ll say something, mention someone, perhaps that damn parson, or turn her nose up in disgust about some trifling misdemeanour, and I know it would be né use.”
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”Oh, Abel!” She was sitting on the edge of the couch, her hands joined on her knees, her body bent towards him, and she repeated, ”Oh, Abel!”
”You think me dreadful, a swine of the first water ?”
Her head came up, ”Don’t ... be ... silly.” The words were slow and spaced. Now she jerked her chin. ”The only thing I’m sorry for is you didn’t tell me that night. But . . . but on the other hand I must say that the worst possible thing you could do to her would be to tell her now.”
He sighed. ”Aye, I know. But what’s the alternative ? Carry on like this for the rest of my life or until I’m found out?”
She did not give him a direct answer to this but what she said was, ”You owe her something. And what’s more . . . well” - she looked downwards now - ”I know Hilda, she needs something, someone. I remember once when I was rowing with her. She was dishing out advice and telling me I should give up my way of life. She got on my nerves so much I said the only person she needed was God, and that she already had Him in the form of Mr Maxwell, and I hoped He satisfied her. I remember she went out crying, and I knew then there was a need in her and that it wasn’t being filled by Mr Maxwell, or God.”
”Funny about God.” She glanced at him now. ”Peter believed in God. He didn’t belong to any denomination but he firmly believed in God. He had a saying that he quoted now and again. It was ’All there is is God’. I never fully understood it myself, but he did.”
There was silence between them, until he said softly, ”You know, Florrie, whether you believe it or not I think you loved him.”
She pondered on this for a moment, then nodded, ”Yes, perhaps I did. But there are all kinds of love.” Now she looked at him fully as she ended. ”But it wasn’t the kind of love I’d felt for you over the years ; and I’m sorry about this because he deserved to be loved.”
He didn’t now come back with the trite remark ”And I don’t ?” because he knew that would evoke her immediate denial, and a denial might be too quick to ring true. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might have a low opinion of him, and yet, even with her love for him, what did she really think of him because she was an astute woman, a woman of the world you could say ?
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At best she would consider him weak. And giving the matter thought, she must consider him weak. And whenever he faced up to himself he, too, knew he was weak. Only in the more recent time had he allowed himself to think in this way, for in his young days he had been strong enough to stand by his opinions, and suffer for them. He had been strong enough to walk out on Lena; but now he knew that he wasn’t strong enough to walk out on Hilda. If he had to leave it would be she who would give him his marching orders. Yet the thought of having to live the rest of his life with her while loving Florrie as he did was already creating a turmoil in his mind.
Then the turmoil was temporarily wafted away as Florrie’s arms came about him and, laughing now into his face, she said in broad Tyneside, ”Eeh! Abel Gray, or Mason, or whoever you call yoursel’, you’re a bad lad. Do you know that ? You’re a bad lad. And if I had me way now you know what I’d do ?”
He was returning her broad smile as he said, ”No,” and waited for her to change her tone and say softly, ”I’d love you,” because the words were written in her eyes. But what she said on a laugh was, ”I’d cook you a nice steak and kidney puddin’.”
When his hand came sharply across her buttocks she lay tightly against him and, her face hidden from him in his shoulder, she murmured soberly, ”Whenever you need me, Abel, I’ll be here.”
”Oh, Florrie, Florrie, I need you every minute, all the time. Sometimes I’ve felt worn out, exhausted for the need of you.”
Her head still buried in his shoulder, they became quiet; then straining herself back from his embrace she rose from the couch and walked slowly towards the french windows and turned the key. When she looked at him again her gaze went straight into his and, holding out her hand, she waited to lead him towards the bedroom.
When had he ever felt like this? With Alice, no. He couldn’t explain what he had felt like with Alice for he couldn’t remember, but this, this he’d remember until the day he died. If he was never
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to go with her again, the glow, no, more than a glow, the radiance in which he had ascended to heights never dreamed of would remain deep in his memory for ever, and the fact that she, too, went along with him every pulsing moment of the way.
They hadn’t spoken, not a word. It had been over for minutes now; still they hadn’t spoken. But when at last she broke the silence her words startled him, ”I’m not too old to have a baby, ami?”
”What?”
”I said I’m not too old to have a baby. I want a baby, Abel. Oh, I want a baby so much. Somehow I thought it would have happened with Peter.” She turned on to her side now. ”You don’t mind me mentioning him, do you ?”
He, too, turned on to his side and he traced the outlines of her eyes with his forefinger, then came over the bridge of her nose to its tip, followed down to her lips, and traced their outline before he said, ”Nothing you could ever do or say, Florrie, could make me mind except if you were to tell me you didn’t want to see me again. Do you know something?”
She made no movement but just stared into his face.
”I’ve heard people saying they felt so happy they could die, and I’ve always classed it as slush or tripe talk, but that expresses exactly how I feel at this moment. In fact I don’t want to go on from here because every minute from now I’ll be dropping back into reality.”
She now lifted her hand and cupped his cheek and said softly, ”This is reality and it can go on as long as ever you wish.”
”That will be a long time, Florrie.”
”Not long enough for me, Abel. . . . But about what I said, would you mind if I had a baby?”
”Not as long as it was mine. But. . . but have you thought about its name?”
”That wouldn’t worry me, although it might worry it later. Huh ! you never know. Yet I hope I’d be good to it, it wouldn’t mind after all. And I’m sure it wouldn’t mind when one day I’d let the cat out of the bag and tell it... him . . . her, that its Uncle Abel was its da’.” She laughed now, and when he said, ”I’ll be an old man when it’s in its teens,” her laughter took on a teasing gaiety and she finished, ”Whatever age you are you’ll still be the same Casanova. . . .”
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”What!” His face became serious. ”You . . . You look upon me as a Casanova, Florrie?”
”Oh, I was just joking. But wait, aye, when I come to think of it you are you know, you are a bit of a Casanova. Look at all the women who have been in your life. Aye, look at them, and from your own telling.”
; He stared at her, his face serious. All the women who had been in his life: Lena, and the loveless battling years he spent with her; Alice, that swift flash of tender passion that lighted his drab life, but for a flash of time only; then the incidents, first the boat, and then the barn, then Hilda. What did he know of women really ? What pleasure had he had from women ? In the last half-hour he knew the pleasure that he had missed in not loving and being loved by a woman like Florrie ... or by Florrie herself, back down all the years. But then, would Florrie have been able to love him as she had done without her experience of men ? If he had met her instead of Lena all those years ago would her loving have taken him to the heights then? She had once told him she had only known three men ; now counting Peter it was four. They were really equal in the number of their experiences but far from equal in the quality of them.
He would be forty-eight shortly, what had he done with his life ? Nothing. He had made no mark on anything or anyone. Yet the latter perhaps wasn’t quite true. He had left a mark of hate on Lena, and another of jealousy on Hilda. What mark would he leave on Florrie ? Just one of love he hoped until the day he died. But it was going to be a furtive love, love on the side, and as such it could go on for years and years. He didn’t think he could stand that; he wanted to be with Florrie every minute of the night and day. He didn’t want her only in bed, he wanted her face opposite him when he was eating, by his side when he was walking. He had first set eyes on her in 1932, nine years ago. He had been starved of her for nine years.
Suddenly he pulled her warm body tight close to him and as his lips pressed down on her mouth the tears sprang from his eyes, and when they wet her face she struggled from his embrace exclaiming, ”Oh! what is it, Abel? I didn’t mean anything, I was just teasing you. Oh, my dear, don’t cry like that. What have I said, what? I tell you ...”
He shook his head and gulped in his throat, saying no^ be-181
tween gasps, ”That. . . that’s got nothing to do with it, ft’s . . . it’s just me, it’s a weakness, I ... I cry when I’m troubled, greatly troubled. But . . . but I hadn’t thought it would affect me when I was happy, ecstatically happy.”
”Oh! Abel. Abel.” She now gathered him into her arms. ”You are so different. You’re different from anybody I’ve ever known in all ways, and I’ve never known a man who cried, and I love you for it. I love you for it.”
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PART FIVE
The Payment
(
1
”You know, when they turned me down, having waited nearly a year for my call up, I felt like jumping in the river, and it wasn’t only because they wouldn’t take me for the air force, but because they thought I didn’t want to get into the air force, didn’t want to get into the war at all.
Eeh! I can hear meself going for that doctor now. I don’t know where I got the nerve from but after being messed about for nearly three hours, and half of that time spent in a room by myself.
You know something, Molly? I’m positive they had a way of watching me but it didn’t strike me until after they turfed me out and said I’d be hearing from them. When it did I was in two minds whether to go back and wreck the bloomin’ place, or, as I said, jump in the river.”
”You should have come for me and we could have jumped in together. I’ve often thought of doing it meself, but I’d like a hand to hold while I’m at it, just in case, you know, I decided to change me mind, then I could climb on top of my companion and clamber out.”
”Oh! Molly!” His head resting on the palm of his hand, his elbows on the table, his shoulders shook with his laughter. Then his laughter stopped abruptly and he lifted his head and stared at her where she was at the sink washing up as she said, ”Have you ever wished anybody dead?”
”What! What makes you ask that?”
She turned her head towards him. ”Nothing; I just wondered. Have you ever wished anybody dead? What’s the matter? What you blushing for?”
”Am I blushing? I didn’t know I blushed. I’m not blushing, ami?”
”Well, you’re pretty red.”
’Well, the things you come out with would make anybody red.”
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”Why should it ? I just asked you a simple question, have you ever wished anybody dead ? I was looking for a companion to me bad thoughts before we go into the river together.” She grinned at him.
”You wish somebody dead ?”
”Yes, of course, else why should I ask you ?”
He stared hard at her before saying quietly, ”Your mother?”
”Yes, me mother.” She turned round and stood with her back to the sink while she dried her hands on the tea towel; then she shook it out and said, ”It’s wet, I’d better get another.” She was across the room and taking a fresh tea towel out of a drawer when he asked, ”You troubled about it?”
”Not any more” - she came and slipped into a chair opposite him - ”especially not since I’ve learned I’m not the only one.” She smiled at him, then added, ”But it isn’t so bad now, only at odd times when she gets me goat. But years ago when I was fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, when other girls were out enjoying themselves, when I saw them going off to the pictures on a Saturday night with their lads, or walking past the gate on a Sunday arm in arm as they made their way into the country, oh then, boy! yes, I hardly drew a breath without thinking, I wish she was dead! Then I would spend half the night tossing and turning in nightmares riddled with guilt.
I was always being put into prison, always lonely, and nearly always I woke up with her words ringing in my ears, ’After all I’ve done for you.’ She still says that you know: ’After all I’ve done for you.’ And what has she done for me ? Made me into a bloomin’ old maid . . . well, nearly.”
”Don’t be daft. Old maid? Huh!”
”Who do you wish to murder ?”
”Murder ?” His eyebrows went up, stretching the skin around his eyes and bringing his lips apart.
”Well, tell me, who do you wish dead?”
He dropped his gaze from hers, nipped on his lip while his shoulder jerked twice, then he stammered, ”No ... no ... nobody in p ... particular.”
”Nobody in particular? Do you wish everybody dead then?”
”No, no; don’t take me literally. Well -” His head jerked from one side to the other in a sharp nervous movement and he gabbled now, ”Well, there was somebody. I ... I thought if she was dead, well, it would straighten things out.”
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”What things?” ; ” -
”Oh, just something that happened.” ; ”; Î
”To whom ... you?”
”No. Well, what I mean . . . Aw” - he got to his feet - ”you know something, Molly? You’re nosey.”
”Yes, I know I am. It’s me only pastime. But I’m only nosey with people I like.” She rose quickly from the chair and went to the draining board and as she picked up a cup to dry it there spread over the town a great wail, and she closed her eyes quickly and said, ”Ah, not again! Three times in one week. Aw no.”
”You’re going to get her downstairs?” Dick’s voice had changed, there was a brisk note in it now and she said, ”Yes, I suppose so.”
”Shall I give you a hand?”
”Yes, you can, I’d be glad of it, but you’d better look out for squalls.”
”Well, if she goes for me I’ll chuck her under the table.” He grinned. ”By the way, is it ready?”
”It’s always ready; I keep the mattress permanently under there now. Come on.”
He followed her up the stairs and into the bedroom, there to see Mrs Burrows already sitting on the edge of the bed.
”You’ve taken your time.”
”The siren’s hardly stopped, Mother.”
”That won’t prevent them dropping the bombs, will it? ... What do you want?” She glared at Dick now, and he answered lightly, ”Just came to give you a hand downstairs.”
”She can manage.�
��
”That’s what you think; she makes herself manage.”
”Well! well!” Mrs Burrows was on her feet now, supported by both of them, and she looked down on Dick as she said with cutting sarcasm, ”A little champion, aren’t you? But, of course, if you’re going to be of any real help to anybody you’ll have to get a step-ladder, won’t you ?”
”Mother!” - ,-
”Yes, daughter?”
Molly said nothing to this but drew in a deep breath.
They were at the top of the stairs now and Mrs Burrows cautioned in a voice that no invalid should have been capable of using, Look what you’re doing or you’ll have me going down 187
head first. We can’t all go three abreast. Get on ahead you!’?She almost pushed Dick off the top step with a sharp movement of her elbow and as he held out his arm to steady her he bowed his head and bit hard on his lip to quell the angry retort that had almost escaped him.
She was a devil of a woman. How did Molly put up with her! Wish her dead ? If he had been in Molly’s place he might have seen to it that she complied with the wish long before now. You couldn’t believe that a woman could be so ungrateful, and to her own. It was hard to believe that there were people like her in the world, yet hadn’t he found out early on that there certainly were.
If he ever needed reminding the pain that he had now and again in his ear would conjure up another such as her. . . . Yet no, his mother could never have been as bad as Mrs Burrows. And whereas Mrs Burrows had no cause for complaint against her daughter, his mother might just have had some cause for cornplaint. This thought had been niggling at him a lot lately and with his other suspicions it was breeding an anger in him.
”There you are. Careful.” He was helping Mrs Burrows down on to the mattress laid out under the table, but as his hands went to straighten her legs while Molly heaved her on to her pillows she smacked at them, saying, ”Take your hands off me.” ”Mother! you’re being helped.” ”I want no help, not from that quarter.”
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