"In what?"
She poked her face forward with the bold queasy excited air of the scandalmonger. "She's been afraid of men and never went near them, Tom Cotter; and there are things that take a long time to come out. It's a terrible skin disease; and it's that, Tom Cotter. It's what men give to women."
He said in a high voice, "Is that it? If you've been stewing over it all night, you should have thought up more than that. It's not worthy of you."
"Aye, but it's the truth; and you've got to face it. The poor pet wears the veil outdoors and in. It's the shame and the fear."
"Oh, bunk."
"Ah, but the face, the face!"
"She's neurotic."
"Ah, ah, no, no."
He continued upstairs,
"I hope you girls have a good time. Maybe I'll have the DT's, too, when I come back."
She said hurriedly, looking up at him, "Tom, you had something years ago, when your feet were so bad; and now you never show your feet because it's bad there."
He stopped and looked down, "Does Estelle believe that? Who's been talking it into her? You know nothing about medicine."
"Aye, but it's true, lad."
"Look at my hands, look at my face."
She began to gabble, turning her face away from her brother, who seemed radiant and handsome to her, bending her head and unable to account for the despair rushing up through her. "At any rate, at any rate, Tom, she's got something very bad. She says it's from that time with you and I'm not earning enough money now for the clothes on me back. You've got to help her. She can't go out any more; she sits at home veiled. She went into the street, she was looking into a shop window. A man tried to peer under her veil. She felt such a deadly shame, she ran home. She says it's from you. You destroyed her."
"I don't know what's behind this; but I'm getting out of here. I'm going to take Marion home. It's safer."
Nellie straightened up.
"Ah, no. You have no right to touch Marion. Telephone whoever is with her. Let them come for her. You must never touch her again. Who knows where it came from? Perhaps from you? You don't know what her sickness is, running to the quacks. How do you know what it is?" She peered fiercely up at him, her face sharp and pale.
He went up and into Marion's room. Nellie stood for a moment ruminating and then ran upstairs after him, ran into the room, crying out, "How are ye, Marion sweetheart? Why did you stay away so long? I'm sorry to hear you're not well. You don't want to go away and leave us, pet? The house is yours, pet. This is your home. Eh, Marion, you don't look well. We must look after ye. Stay awhile and let us see you and Tom. You'll be better off here than roaming the roads, won't ye, pet?"
Marion welcomed her gladly. She said they had so much to talk about. She was feeling a bit better, and if they had the room, she'd like to stay a while and get her advice. She had a good plot for a play.
Nellie said feelingly, "Aye. It's damn good of ye, pet, if you'd let him go up to see Mother. It may be the last time, Marion: she's very weak and low. She's worn her life away for us all. I don't understand George and Tom who think we shouldn't feel guilty and responsible towards our parents who kept a roof over our heads and fed us, chick, when we were little."
"What else are they there for?" said Tom.
"No, chick, I don't understand ye. But Marion understands me, don't ye, sweetheart? And I'm damned glad you've got a good girl, there, Tom. Ye always were a waif and a stray; he's always been in the sideshow of life, Marion; aye, it's damned good of you to take an interest in me brother. So you trust me, Marion, pet? You'll stay here with me while me brother goes up to pay his respects?"
Marion said she'd be glad to. There were so many questions she wanted to ask Nellie. Nellie was delighted to hear this.
"Then it's all right, Tom. Bless you, darling. And Tom, I want ye to take something to Peggy, the poor chick, running the whole house on her own, as if she wasn't a sick girl. Come out a minute, Tom; I want to speak to ye. We don't want to disturb Marion."
Marion was curious, "Oh, you're not disturbing me."
"No, no, it's better, pet: just domestic matters."
Tom followed her out.
"Now, Tom, me puir lad, you get off as quick as you can and Lize and I will look after Marion. Estelle comes first. Now, Tom, you pack off, get off to Bridgehead; but you get away from Marion. Give me her address and I'll telegraph her folks. I'm ashamed of you."
Tom said, "Estelle would never have fallen for a thing like that when she was with me."
"You're very cocksure. Didn't ye have a friend in the war had that?"
"You think you catch it like measles? You don't know a thing about it. So that's it? You told Estelle that story. You know what I say, Nellie. If one of my bad stories gets out, I know it comes from you. I know you've betrayed me again."
She looked both ways, wanting to deny it. "When did I ever give you away, Tom? I'm your best friend. You always trusted me. You told me what you could tell no one else."
He said, laughing, "And you always betrayed me. But I can't help trusting you again. It's my weakness for you."
"I never betrayed ye, pet."
He said kindly, "It's your mania for confessions. Whenever I see them asking how it is that people confess in political trials, I laugh and think: Whoever caught Nellie, she'd confess. She'd confess so much they'd have to stuff their ears, stop the case, shut up shop, they'd hear such a damnable Arabian Nights, they'd go out of—they'd go out and get drunk."
She said angrily, "Now don't go twisting my words, Tom: making me out a fascist and a secret agent. Now you're not going to worm your way out of this. You've caused enough misery with your mischief-making. If you don't go off at once as is your duty, I'll tell Marion everything."
"If you cause Marion any pain at all, I give you my word you'll never see me again. A lifetime of affection and trust will go. I mean it."
"Ah, I'm not like that pet, causing pain."
He said, "I'm going then, but with a heavy heart; and with looking back at you. If you betray me, you'll never see me again. Now keep away from Marion. Lize is going to look after her. I'll just spend one night there and I'll be back tomorrow."
Nellie beamed;
"Ah, dear Lize. Ah, she's a darling; that woman is an angel. Now get going, Tom. I'll bring me parcels down to the car. I want you to say a few words to Estelle, pet. It's her right. When you get a divorce, you don't shed all human feeling. She thinks it's from you and even if it isn't, think of her solitude and misery; she fears all men, pet."
Estelle sat in a corner of the front room between the couch and a tall bookcase built into the wall. Tom sat in the middle of the room facing the fireplace in which a small fire burned; and Nellie, gay and eager, sat smoking on the other side of the fireplace. She looked benevolently from one to the other.
At last, in a low agreeable voice, with a melancholy drawl, an Irish note, Estelle said, "Tom, you know I'm very ill, I have an incurable disease I caught from you."
Like a lesson, thought Tom, who sat attentive, leaning forward a little to look at the red rash up her cheeks and along the jawbones. It was unsightly.
"I can't believe it is what you say, or what Nellie says. I wouldn't believe it without three opinions and a specialist. What you've got is some skin trouble; that's very common with nervous women. The men in camp had plenty of nervous skin diseases. As for me, to satisfy you, I'll send you a medical report as soon as I get back."
Estelle said bitterly, "You run it off like a record. You sound as if you explained it a lot of times." She said to Nellie, "I see you prepared him. You'd do anything for Tom. You'd betray anyone."
Nellie continued to deny everything and pretended to cheer them up.
Estelle said to Nellie, in her slow heart-rending voice, "You never gave us a chance. You always sat in on our marriage, pouncing on every mistake and talking it over with all your friends. You were jealous when I married Tom and you weren't satisfied till he left me."
Nellie was very much surprised by this attack; and countered it with a great number of warm exclamations, assurances, denials, chicks, pets and sweethearts; to which the two concerned listened as if they were using up unwanted tickets at a play. Nellie kept glancing eagerly and anxiously from one to the other, to get the affair going again; but Estelle was resigned, Tom determined; and they spoke to each other on the plane of marriage, so that Nellie did not seize quite what was going on between them. Tom said, "It's like old times. It's like Westbourne Grove. Estelle and I in trouble and Nellie post-morteming for all she's worth, wringing the juice out of the corpse. Now I must get off. I'll pay all the medical bills, though it's a hunk of non-sense. I pay you alimony. I can't do more."
"Aye, but money isn't a compensation," said Nellie.
Tom said, "It's enough for me. My life before me is a series of weekly payments till I'm an old man. That counts for me."
"Ah, don't talk that way, Tom. That's not the humane plane, chick. Don't put human life and love in terms of pounds, shillings and pence. She's got an incurable sickness. You've taken her out of the labor market. She's afraid of men because of you. Have pity on the woman. She needs you."
Tom said, "Pounds, shillings and pence are an incurable sickness."
The wife said, "I think you owe it to me to look after me. I'm terribly alone and what difference does it make to you? You told me you didn't care for love; sex was overrated. You said you never wanted to hear the word love again. You told Nellie you wanted to look after the sick, that you didn't know any other way to fight the troubles of our epoch; that you'd never fight again, you wouldn't inflict any more pain. You said you'd be a stretcherbearer, an orderly, a male nurse. You said you'd go off to a sanitarium or a leper colony."
Nellie said, "Yes, you said that, chick, and I thought it grand of you."
Tom said, "Very well; find out what's wrong with you before we set off for any colonies. Now I must go. It'll take me I don't know how long at this hour to get to the North Road and I won't get into Bridgehead till late."
Nellie ran after him, "And where were you all last night, pet? Where did you sleep?"
"On the floor, by Marion. I've done that for a whole year, slept near her to hear when she calls."
Nellie was embarrassed. "I'll get ye the parcels, Tom; and be easy in your mind. You can rely on your old Nellie."
"I know that," he said, laughing.
He shut the door, fixed his pockets, lighted a cigarette and started the car. He had maneuvered Nellie into an uneasy state of mind; but as soon as she contemplated her two invalids and George's acquiescent Eliza, she would feel strong again; new combinations would occur to her. He laughed.
Tom moved out of Lamb Street, started up towards the main road, backed into one of the crossroads, came round the Square and in a few minutes was blowing his horn outside the house. The door was standing open and he could look straight through into the backyard. Eliza was standing at the top of the back steps singing, Canny at night, bonny at morn. Estelle and Nellie were on the stairs going up to the attic, to Marion of course.
Nellie ran down and out, "Did you forget something, pet?"
"Yes, Marion. I'm taking her with me."
"Are you playing games, you fool?"
"Yes, playing games."
Estelle came downstairs and slipped into the front room. She had not seen Marion. Eliza came upstairs with him to help him.
She said, "You did the right thing, love. What does she want with us? She wants you. Though I never saw a friendlier woman. You can't take her far, Tom; not to Glasgow. She's not got far to go."
"I'm taking her home."
"Aye, good."
They helped her downstairs. Nellie came running after them with presents for Marion. She begged; "And where are you going now, pet? Where will you be?"
"I'll drop you a line, Nellie. Or to Eliza."
"But where, but where?"
"We're going to Glasgow to find the healer."
Marion said, turning her wasted energetic face, with a smile to Nellie, "I'll send you the play and you'll type it out and send it round won't you?"
"Aye, pet, I certainly will. Yes, love."
"It's a good idea. I know it will go," said Marion.
"You send it along, pet."
Tom started the car. They were nearly home before Marion realized they were not going to Glasgow. She became upset; but Tom promised to leave at once for Glasgow himself to see the faith-healer.
Eliza and Nellie were having tea. Eliza said, "What will he do when she dies? He's spent years living only for Marion. He told me all about it. I don't cry for myself, I don't cry for others; but tears came into my eyes."
Nellie was putting up her hair into a thin sprout on top of her head.
"It isn't that that worries me: it's the harpy who'll get him after she's gone."
She stuck a comb into the back hair and pinched up her small bright eyes this way and that, to see the effect.
"If I don't do my hair better, so George says, he'll up and leave me, the blighter! What gets into the men? They study the soap adverts; and every decent woman has to look like a bloody painted post."
The women laughed. Eliza said; "Where's the harm? I ought to look after meself a bit better. Look at me waist."
"Aye, darling, but it's harm; I've changed for the worse, since I fell in with your George. I'm not a free woman. Soaping and mending and painting and powdering and putting jeweled combs in me hair—is that a decent woman? Is me bodice clean, are me drawers clean, are me stockings wrinkled, are me heels over, is me skirt buttoned? I never was a fidget before. I've got no character left."
Eliza teased, "I saw you on Fleet Street with a pair of gloves the other day."
"Vi says I've gone back on my past; she has no respect for me anymore. But I don't know what to do, now George has got to running around Europe with the bourgeois dames that go to congresses. The buggers should never be allowed into politics, running after the men, the blinking bastards."
Nellie lamented, "I had a letter from me gay cavalier. Do you know a bourgeois dame lent George money this last trip and expected him to take her to lunch, in return? And I've got no respect for your George, Eliza. He was grateful for it. I'll leave you, I wrote to him this morning, if I catch ye drooling after the bloody bourgeois dames, buying men with purses fat with their husband's money. He got into a taxi and halfway along the street he sees the bourgeois dame. She can speak the lingo; he can't. George is too wedded to the doric. So he hails her and she gets in and she wants to go to lunch at a real workers' restaurant, patronizing the workers, the blinking bourgeois bleeder and the damned innocent has no more sense than to take her along. They rode all round Florence and the taxi driver took them to a workers' restaurant and said, It's all right, no charge, comrade; and the bloody dame insulted him by paying him; and afterwards she found the food wasn't good enough. What does me loyal husband say? He's learning something, he's learning to appreciate good food; she was right; the food was not good enough. I told him, Don't come home telling me about good food. In Bridgehead we didn't know what good food was. We had better things to think about. And now he tells me we must start to collect cookery books. That's no library for a trades union man to have."
Estelle now came down to them and said she was leaving. She was going back to Crewe, "You got me here Nellie, but when I saw Tom today I had a feeling of dread. He goes about weaving women into his life and then something dreadful happens to them."
Nellie said in a strained voice, "What do ye mean? What's wrong?"
"I expect he's right: it's a skin disease. But I never want to see him again. He'll kill me. I'd never go away with him. He draws life out of you. There's nothing there and he feeds and feeds on you. I'm terrified of him."
"I don't understand you," said Nellie.
Eliza said, "Neither do I. Tom's a dear. I love the lad. There was only one man born into the world with the heart of Tom."
Estelle said bitte
rly, "If you really love him, I'm sorry for you. You'll have weeks and months of tension and bedlam; and he'll feel nothing of it, but sit there with a pleasant face like a rose. When you're suffering he'll go and look at himself in the mirror and wonder what is wrong with his face that he can't get round you immediately. I used to conspire with Nellie to get him to come and see me—"
"You didn't conspire, pet: it was your right."
"He came. He sat there looking at me, pink, fresh, untouched by life. He did nothing. He was kind. He went away; and I was sick and horrified, full of nausea. He had only to sit and look at me. And I felt doubt, sorrow, sickness, hopeless love, emptiness and blackness; such a gulf! Yet when he's there, you're happy. He begins to smile and glide and haunt with his voice; and tell you his tales. Before you know it, he's walking by the mirror and looking in to smile and coming back to you like a man out of the mirror and he eats your heart away. Other men seem rough and loutish. You could never love another man as you love Tom. Unless he is just such another man. And he brings you old age, sickness, despair, I don't know what. The worst is that he lets you know what's wrong with him and begs your forgiveness that your love is an incurable disease." "Ah," said Nellie.
"Love for him is hopeless love," said Estelle despondently.
Nellie was again embarrassed and covered this with chat, "The boy's all right, the boy's all right, he's no ghoul. It's just that he's got in with this ghoul, this damn silly little vampire. We must reclaim him."
"I won't. I've had enough," said Estelle.
"Why, think of the good times we all had together in the old days, you and Tom and me and Vi—"
Estelle said, "They were terrible days."
"Why, love, we used to sit there laughing and chewing the rag till morning."
"You sat in our bedroom all night to separate us; and early in the morning he had to go to work."
"But, pet, we had all to live together! You didn't want a petty bourgeois marriage, with all our lovely friendship splintering apart!"
Cotter's England Page 9