As she went towards the door he looked at her back. It was like a ramrod, she wasn’t like a woman at all. He beckoned to John George, who seemed to be glued to his desk, and as he opened the door he heard her say, ‘You’ll be late for the ferry, I came with the trap. Come along or you’ll never get there.’
The old man always went by ferry up to Newcastle; he didn’t like the trains although he had to take one from Newcastle to Hexham. When he went on his usual trips there he generally left early on a Saturday morning. What had stopped him this time? Anyway, whatever had stopped him had also nearly stopped John George’s breath.
They were crossing the market again before he said, ‘Well now, come on, spit it out.’
‘I’ll . . . I’ll give you it back, I . . . I can give you six bob of it now. I’ll get it from home and . . . and the rest on Monday.’
‘What were you up to?’
‘Aw’—John George wagged his head from side to side—’I . . . I wanted to give Maggie something and it had to be the day, it’s the only time I can see her. I mightn’t see her again until after the holiday and so, thinkin’ he wouldn’t be in till Monday, I . . . I took the loan of ten bob out of the . . .’
‘You bloody fool!’
‘Aye, I know, I know I am.’
‘But . . . but how did you expect to put it back by Monday if you haven’t got it now?’
‘Aw well, man’—again his head was wagging—’I . . . I usually put me good suit in and me watch and bits of things . . .’
‘You usually do? You mean you’ve done this afore?’
John George nodded his head slowly. ‘Aye. Aye, a few times. The times that he goes off at the weekends and doesn’t count up till Monday. I . . . I thought I’d drop down dead when I saw him standing there.’
‘You deserve to drop down dead, you bloody fool you. Do you know he could have you up? And he’s the one to do it an’ all; he’d have you along the line afore you could whistle. You must be up the pole, man.’
‘I think I’ll go up the pole soon if things don’t change.’
‘What you want to do is to pull yourself together, get things worked out straight. Leave your Uncle Willy and Aunt Meg, he’s able to work, he’s nothin’ but a scrounger, and take a place on your own.’
‘What!’ John George turned his face sharply towards him. ‘Take the furniture and leave them with three bare rooms or tell him to get out? What you don’t understand, Rory, is that there’s such a thing as gratitude. I don’t forget that they were both good to me mother after me da died, aye, and long afore that; and they helped to nurse him the two years he lay bedridden.’
‘Well, they’ve been damned well paid for it since, if you ask me . . . All right then, say you can’t do anything about them, an’ you want that lass . . . well then, ask her to marry you and bring her into the house.’
‘That’s easier said than done. If I took her away her father would likely go straight to old Kean and denounce me.’ He now put his hand to his brow, which, in spite of the raw cold, was running with sweat, and muttered, ‘But I’ll have to do something, and soon, ’cos . . . oh my God! I’m in a right pickle . . . Rory.’
‘Aye, I’m still here, what is it?’
‘There’s something else.’
‘Aw.’ Rory now closed his eyes and put his hand across his mouth, then grabbed at his hard hat to save it from being whipped by the wind from his head. ‘Well, go on.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Another time, another time; you’re not in the mood . . . Look—’ he pointed suddenly—’Isn’t that Jimmy?’
They were passing the road that led to the Mill Dam and the river front. Rory stopped and said, ‘Yes that’s our Jimmy . . . Jimmy!’ he shouted down the lane, and Jimmy who had been walking with his eyes cast down looked upwards, then came dashing up the slope at his wobbling gait.
‘Why, fancy seein’ you, I mean both of you. An’ I was just thinking of you, our Rory.’
‘You were? Why? You another one that wants a sub?’
‘No, man.’ Jimmy laughed. ‘But I was thinkin’ that when I got home I’d ask you to come down here again. Now wasn’t that funny.’
‘I can’t see much to laugh at in that, not yet anyway.’
‘Well, it was something I wanted to show you down on the front.’ He nodded towards the river. ‘Come on.’ He again indicated the river with his head, then added, ‘And you an’ all, John George.’
‘I can’t, Jimmy, I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m on me way home.’
‘Aw, all right, John George, I understand, it’s your day for Newcastle.’ He laughed.
John George didn’t laugh with him, but he repeated, ‘Aye. Aye, Jimmy, it’s me day for Newcastle.’ Then nodding at him, he said, ‘Be seeing you. So long. And so long, Rory. Aw, I forgot. What about the other, I mean . . . ?’
‘Leave it till Monday. And mind, don’t do any more damn fool things until then.’
‘I’ll try not to. But what’s done’s done. Nevertheless thanks, thanks. You’ll have it on Monday. So long.’
‘So long.’
‘What’s up with him?’ Jimmy asked as they went down towards the road that bordered the river.
‘He’s been a damned fool, he’s mad.’
‘What’s he been and gone and done?’
‘Nothing . . . I’ll tell you some other time. What do you want me down here for?’
‘I want to show you something.’
‘A boat?’
‘Aye, a boat. An’ something more than that.’
Rory looked down into the young face. It was always hard for him to believe that Jimmy was nineteen years old, for he still looked upon him as a nipper. He was more than fond of Jimmy, half- brothers though they were; he liked him the best of the bunch.
‘Where we going?’
‘Just along the front, then down the Cut.’
‘There’s nothing but warehouses along there.’
‘Aye, I know. But past them, past Snowdon’s, on a it, youll see.’
After some walking they had turned from the road that bordered the warehouse and wharf-strewn river front and were clambering over what looked like a piece of spare ground except that it was dotted here and there with mounds of rusty chains, anchors and the keels and ribs of small decaying boats, when Jimmy, squeezing his way between a narrow aperture in a rough fence made up of oddments of thick lack timber, said, ‘Through here.’
Rory had some difficulty in squeezing himself between the planks, but when once through he looked about him on to what appeared to be a miniature boatyard. A half-finished skeleton of a small boat was lying aslant some rough stocks and around it lay pieces of wood of all shapes and sizes. A few feet beyond the boat was the beginning of a slipway bordered by a jetty and he walked towards the edge of it and leant over the rail and looked down into the water; then from there he turned and surveyed the building at the far end of the yard.
It wasn’t unlike any of the other warehouses cluttering the river bank except that it had three windows in the upper part of it, and they were big windows, one on each side of the door and one fitting into the apex of the roof. There was no name on the front of the structure like there was on the rest of the boatyards and warehouses, and Rory now turned and looked into Jimmy’s bright eyes and said, Well?’
‘It’s a little boatyard.’
‘I can see that but I wouldn’t say it was a prosperous one. You’re not going to leave Baker’s for here, are you?’
‘No, man, no. I’m not going to leave Baker’s at all. I wish I could. At the same time I’m terrified of being stood off. No, I just want you to see it.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, ’cos . . . it’s up for sale.’
‘Up for sale?’
‘Aye.’
‘Well, what’s that got to do with us?’
‘Nowt . . . nowt, man.’
Rory watched the light slowly fade from Jimmy’s face. He watched him turn away and look at the river
, then up at the house, and lastly at the boat on the stocks, and he said softly now, ‘I know what you’re thinkin’, but it’s like a dream, lad, that’s all, it can never come true.’
‘I know.’
‘Then what did you bring me here for?’
‘I just wanted you to see it, just to show you.’
‘What good is that going to do you or anybody else?’
‘Well, I just wanted to show you that a man could start on almost nowt an’ build up. They’ve done it all along the river. The Pittie Brothers, they started from nowt. A sculler among the three of them, and now they’ve got the run of the place, or they think they have. But there’s always room for another one or two. Some say the keelman’s day is over since they’ve widened the river and the boats can go farther up and pick up their coal straight from the staithes, but as Mr Kilpatrick used to say there’s other things to be carted besides coal. Anyway, I’d never aim to be a keelman ’cos it’s as tight to get in as a secret society, an’ they’re a tough lot, by aye! Nor do I want to build keels, with a cabin an’ hold, ’cos it takes all of three men to manage a keel. No; but I’ve got something in me mind’s eye; it’d be under thirty foot but with space for timber, packages and such, something I could manage meself or, at a push, just two of us. Mr Kilpatrick used to say he could design . . .’
‘Who’s Mr Kilpatrick?’
The old fellow who owned this place.’
‘Did you know him?’
‘Aye, in a way. I used to pop in in me bait time. He’s always given me tips, things that you don’t come by only by experience. He used to take the wood from the river’—he pointed to the wood scattered around the boat—’and when he was finished with it, it was as good as new. He had a way with wood. He said I had an’ all.’
‘And he’s dead?’
‘Aye.’
‘Who’s sellin’ it then?’
‘His son. Well, he’s selling the goodwill.’
‘Goodwill!’ Rory gave a short laugh. ‘What goodwill is there here? The back end of a boat and wood you can pick up from the river.’
There’s a house up there and there’s some decent pieces of furniture in it. And then there’s his tools, And he’s got a bond on the place for the next ten years.’
‘You mean it’s just rented?’
‘Aye.’
‘How much is it a week?’
‘Three and a tanner.’
‘Huh!’ The sound was sarcastic. They’re not asking much, three and a tanner for this!’
‘But everything is included. And a permit to ferry stuff up and down the river.’
‘And what’s the son wanting for it?’
‘Thirty-five pounds.’
‘What!’ It was a shout. ‘You havin’ me on?’
‘No, I’m not, that’s cheap. There’s the boat, and all the wood. And you haven’t seen his tools. Then there’s the furniture. There’s three rooms up there, I’ve been in them. He used to give me a cup of tea now and again. He lived on his own. They’re big rooms. You don’t get much of an idea from here.’
‘But there’s no boat, he must have had a boat.’
‘Aye, his son took that.’
‘That son knows what he’s doing. Has he been pumping you?’
‘No. Why no, man, why would he pump me? Only that he knew I used to talk to his old man. He came here once or twice when I was in the yard and when he saw me t’other day he told me. He said—’ Now Jimmy turned away and walked up towards the house, his body seeming to rock more than his bowed legs and Rory called after him, ‘Well, go on, finish telling me what he said.’
‘It doesn’t matter; as you said, it’s a dream.’ And now he swung round and stabbed his finger towards Rory as he ended, ‘But some day, mark my words, I’ll make it come true. I don’t know how but I will. I’ll have a place of me own where I can build a boat an’ ply a trade. You’ll see. You’ll see.’
‘All right, all right.’ Rory walked towards him now. ‘No need to bawl your head off.’
‘You bawled first.’
‘Well, I had a right.’ He now passed Jimmy and walked up and into the end of the slipway, over which the building extended, and looked towards the ladder that was fixed to the wall and ended in a trap-door, and he called back over his shoulder in an amused tone, ‘Is this how you get in?’
‘No, of course, it isn’t,’ Jimmy said scornfully; ‘there’s steps up and a door, you saw them. But—’ And now his eyes were bright again as he went on, ‘I can show you inside, I know how to get in through the hatch.’
‘What we waitin’ for, then, if it’s going to cost us nothin’? So go on, get up.’
The desire was strong in him to please this brother of his and to keep his dream alive for a little longer. He watched him run up the vertical ladder with the agility of a monkey. He saw him put his flat hand in the middle of the trap-door, jerk it twice to the side, and then push it upwards. He stood at the foot of the ladder and watched him disappear through the hole. Then he was climbing upwards, but with no agility. He wasn’t used to crawling up walls he told himself.
When he emerged into the room he straightened up and looked about him but said nothing. Just as Jimmy had said, there were some good pieces of furniture here. He was amazed at the comfort of the room. The whole floor space was covered with rope mats fashioned in intricate patterns. There was a high-barred fireplace with an oven to the side of it and a hook above it for a spit or kettle. A good chest of drawers stood against one wall, and by it a black oak chest with brass bindings. There was a big oval table with a central leg in the middle of the room, and the top had been polished to show the grain. There were three straight-backed wooden chairs and a rocking chair, and all around the walls hung relics from ships: brass compasses, wheels, old charts. He walked slowly towards the door that led into the next room. It was a bedroom. There was a plank bed in one corner but slung between the walls was a hammock. And here was another seaman’s chest, not a common seaman’s chest but something that a man of captain’s rank might have used, and taking up most of the opposite end of the room was a tallboy.
‘It’s good stuff, isn’t it? Look at his tools.’ Jimmy heaved up the lid of the chest to show an array of shining tools hung meticulously in order around the sides of the chest.
‘Aye, it’s good stuff. He was no dock scum was your Mr Kilpatrick. Everything orderly and shipshape.’
‘Of course he wasn’t dock scum. He was a gentleman . . . well, I mean not gentry, but a gentleman. He had been to sea in his young days, ran off, so he told me. His people were comfortable. They took his son when his wife died, that’s why the son doesn’t want anything to do with the water front. He’s in business, drapery.’
‘What’s up above?’
‘It’s a long room, it runs over both of these. It’s full of all kinds of things, maps and papers and books and things. He could read. Oh, he was a great reader.’
Rory looked down on Jimmy. He looked at him for a long moment before he was able to say, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What’ve you to be sorry for?’ Jimmy had turned away and walked towards the window where he stood looking out on to the river.
‘You know what I’m sorry for, I’m sorry you can’t have it. If I had the money I’d buy it for you this minute, I would.’
He watched his brother’s face slowly turn towards him. The expression was soft again, his tone warm. ‘I know you would. That’s why I wanted you to see it an’ to hear you say that, ’cos I know if you had it you would give it me, lend it me.’
Rory went and sat in the rocking chair and began to push himself slowly backwards and forwards. Thirty-five pounds. A few nights of good play somewhere and he could make that. He once made thirteen pounds at one sitting, but had lost it afore he left. But if he were to win again he’d smilingly take his leave. That’s if he wasn’t playing against sailors, for some of them would cut you up for tuppence.
Suddenly jumping up from the chair, he said, �
��Come on.’
‘Where?’
‘Never mind where. Just come on, let’s get out of here.’ But before dropping down through the trapdoor he looked about him once again as he thought, It’ll kill two birds with the one stone. Janie. Janie would love it here, she would be in her element. There was the room up there, that would do Jimmy. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was getting as barmy as Jimmy . . . But there was nothing like trying.
When they were out of the yard and on the road again he stopped and, looking down at Jimmy, said, ‘Now I want you to go straight home. You can say that you saw me, and I was with a fellow. We . . . we were going to see the turns later on. Aye, that’s what to say, say we were going to the theatre later on.’
‘You’re goin’ in a game?’
‘Aye, if I can find a good one.’
‘Aw, Rory.’
‘Now, now, don’t get bright-eyed, nowt may come of it. But I’ll have a try. And if we could put something down to secure it—’ he punched Jimmy on the shoulder—’the fellow might wait, take it in bits like, eh? If he’s not short of a bob he could wait, couldn’t he? And it isn’t everybody that’s going to jump at a place like that. But . . . but as I said, don’t get too bright-eyed. Just tell them what I told you, and if I shouldn’t be back afore they go to bed, tell them . . . well, tell them not to wait up.’
‘Aye, Rory, aye, I’ll do that. And . . . and you be careful.’
‘What have I got to be careful of?’
‘You hear things, I mean along the front, about the schools an’ things. There are some rough customers about.’
‘I’m a bit of one meself.’
‘You’re all right.’
They looked at each other, the undersized bow-legged boy with the angelic face and his thick-set straight-backed, arrogantly attractive-looking half- brother, and each liked what he saw: Rory, the blind admiration in the boy’s face, and Jimmy, the strength, determination and apparent fearlessness in this man he loved above all others.
‘Go on with you, go on.’ Rory thrust out his hand, and Jimmy turned away. Again he was running, and not until he had disappeared from view into the main thoroughfare did Rory swing about and stride along the waterfront in the direction of the pier. But before he came to the high bank known as the Lawe, on which stood the superior houses with their view of the sea and the North and South piers, and which were occupied by ships’ captains and respectable merchants of the town, he turned off and into a street which, from its disreputable appearance, should never have been allowed to lie at the skirt of such a neighbourhood as the Lawe. There were only eight houses in this street and they all had walled back yards and all the doors were locked. It was on the third yard door that he knocked, a sharp knock, rat-tat a-tat, tat-tat, and after some minutes it was furtively opened by a man hardly bigger than a dwarf.
The Gambling Man Page 6