The Gambling Man

by Catherine Cookson

  The gasp he gave brought her leaning towards him, and she asked softly, ‘Nothin’ . . . nothin’s happened him?’

  His head moved as if in a shudder and then he spoke for the first time. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he said.

  ‘I . . . I was washed up there. I don’t remember anything about it but they told me . . . at least after a long time when the priest came over the hills; he could speak English. The fishing-boat, it found me off Le Palais. I was clinging to this wood and they thought I was dead. I must have been in the water for a long time swept by a current, they said, and . . . and when I came to meself I didn’t know who I was. I . . . I never knew who I was till a month ago.’

  ‘Just a month ago?’

  ‘Aye.’ She nodded slowly.

  He gulped twice before he asked, ‘Well, how did you get on? Who did you think you were?’

  ‘Nobody; I just couldn’t remember anything except vaguely. I seemed to remember holding a child. I told the priest that, and when he came next, he only came twice a year, he said he had inquired along the coast and he’d heard of nobody who had lost a wife and child. There had been great storms that year and lots of boats had been sunk. He told me to be patient an’ me memory’d come back and I’d know who I was. It . . . it was Henri who brought it back.’

  ‘Who’s Henry?’

  ‘He was madame’s son. They’re all fisherfolk, she looked after me. Life was very hard for them all, so very hard, much . . . much harder than here.’ She looked slowly around the room. ‘I . . . I remember how I used to talk about guttin’ fish as being something lowly. I had to learn to gut fish. They all worked so hard from mornin’ till night. It was a case of fish or die. You don’t know.’ She shook her head in wide movements. ‘But they were kind and . . . and they were happy.’

  Jimmy gulped. His mind was racing. This was Janie. It was Janie all right. Eeh! God, what would happen? Why couldn’t she have stayed where she was? What was he saying? He muttered now, ‘How did you get your memory back?’

  It was through Henri, he couldn’t understand about me not wantin’ to learn to swim. The young ones swam, it was their one pleasure, and this day he . . . he came behind me and pushed me off the rock. It . . . it was as I hit the water it all came back. He was sorry, very sorry I mean that it had come back.’ She looked down towards the table and up again suddenly. ‘Where’s Rory? Is he up home?’

  Jimmy turned from her. He was shaking his head wildly now. He lifted up the teapot from the hob, put it down again, then, swinging round towards her, he said, ‘You’ve . . . you’ve been away nearly . . . nearly two years, Janie, things’ve happened.’

  She rose slowly to her feet. ‘What things? What kind of things?’

  ‘Well . . . well, this is goin’ to be another shock to you. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Janie. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cut up, he nearly went mad. And . . . and it was likely ’cos he was so lonely he did it, but—’ now his voice faded to a mere whisper, and he bowed his head before finishing, he got married again.’

  She turned her ear slightly towards him as if she hadn’t heard aright; then her mouth opened and closed, but she didn’t speak. She sat down with a sudden plop, and once more she looked around the room. Then she asked simply, ‘Who to?’

  Jimmy now put his hand across his mouth. He knew before he said the name that this would be even harder for her to understand.

  ‘Who to?’ She was shouting now, screaming at him.

  If he had had any doubts before that this was Janie they were dispelled.

  ‘Miss . . . Miss Kean.’

  ‘What!’ She was on her feet coming towards him, and he actually backed from her in fear.

  ‘You’re jokin’?’

  ‘No, no, I’m not, Janie. No.’ He stopped at the foot of the ladder and she stopped too. With one wild sweep she unhooked the clasp of her cloak and flung it aside, then she tore the bonnet from her head and flung it on to the cloak. And now she walked back to the table, and she leant over it as she cried, ‘Money! Money! He married her for money. He couldn’t get it by gamin’, but he had to have it some way.’

  ‘No, no, it wasn’t like that . . .’

  She swung round and was facing him again, and he noted with surprise that her figure was no longer plump, it was almost as flat as Charlotte Kean’s had been before her body started to swell with the bairn. Eeh! and that was another thing, the bairn. Oh my God! Where would this end? He said now harshly, ‘It’s nearly two years, you’ve got to remember that. He . . . he was her manager, and . . . and she was lonely.’

  ‘Lonely? Lonely?’ She started to laugh; then thrusting her white head forward, she demanded, ‘Where’s he now? Living in the big house? Huh! Well, his stay’s goin’ to be short, isn’t it, Jimmy? He can’t have two wives, can he?’

  ‘He didn’t know, you can’t blame him.’

  ‘Can’t blame him? Huh! I was the only woman he’d ever wanted in his life, the only one he would ever love until he died. You . . . you know nowt about it. Can’t blame him, you say!’

  ‘You should never’ve gone; it was your own fault, you going on that holiday. I . . . I told him he shouldn’t have let you.’

  ‘But he did, he did let me, Jimmy. What he should have done the day I left was come after me and knock hell out of me an’ made me stay. But he didn’t, did he? He let me go.’

  ‘You know why he let you go. It was because of John George, that business, an’ you sticking out and wanting him to go and give himself up. You’re as much to blame as he is, Janie, about that. But he’s not to blame for marryin’ again, ’cos how was he to know? He waited a year, over a year.’

  ‘That was kind of him. Well now, what are we going to do, Jimmy, eh? You’ll have to go and tell him that his wife’s come back. That’s it . . . just go an’ tell him that his wife’s come back.’

  He stared at her. This was Janie all right, but it was a different Janie; not only was she changed in looks but in her manner, her ways, and as he stared at her he couldn’t imagine any disaster great enough to change a woman’s appearance as hers had been changed.

  She saw his eyes on her hair and she said quietly now, ‘I mean it, Jimmy. You’d better go and tell him. And . . . and tell him what to expect, will you?’ She put her hand up towards her head. I . . . I lost all me hair. I was bald, as bald as any man, and . . . and they rubbed grease in, fish fat, an’. . . an’ this is how it grew. And . . . and living out in the open in the sun and the wind I became like them, all brown ’cos of me fair skin likely.’

  She sat down suddenly on a chair and, placing her elbows on the table, she lowered her face into her hands.

  Don’t cry, Janie, don’t cry.’ He moved to the other side of the table. And now she looked up at him dry-eyed and said, ‘I’m not cryin’, Jimmy. That’s another thing, I can’t cry. I should cry about the children and the master and mistress and how I look, but something stops me . . . Go and fetch him, Jimmy.’

  ‘I . . . I can’t, Janie. It would . . ’

  ‘It would what?’

  ‘He’d . . . he’d get a gliff.’

  ‘Well, if he doesn’t come to me, I’ll have to go to him. He’ll get a gliff in any case, and he’d far better meet me here than . . . than up home . . . What’s the matter? . . . What is it now?’

  ‘Your grannie, Janie, she’s . . .’

  ‘Aw no!’ She dropped her head to the side and screwed up her eyes, then after a moment said, ‘When?’

  ‘Last year, after . . . shortly after she heard the news.’

  ‘And me da?’

  ‘He . . . he went to Jarrow to live with . . . he took lodgings in Jarrow. There’s new people in the house, an old couple. An’ the Learys have gone an’ll. I never thought they’d ever move but he started work in St Hilda’s Colliery, and it’s too far for him to trek in the winter. They live down here now in High Shields. It’s all changed up there.’ He wanted to keep talking in a hopeless effort against what she was going to say next, but she s
topped him with a lift of her hand as she leant back in the chair and drew in long draughts of breath, then said, ‘I don’t think I can stand much more. And I’m so tired; I haven’t been to sleep for . . . aw, it seems days . . . Go and fetch him, Jimmy.’

  The command was soft, but firm and brooked no argument. He stared at her for a moment longer; then grabbing his coat and cap from the back of the door, he dragged them on and rushed out. But once down in the yard he didn’t run; instead, he stood gripping the staunch post that supported the end of the house as he muttered to himself, ‘Eeh! my God! What’s gona happen?’

  2

  Charlotte straightened the silk cravat at Rory’s neck, dusted an invisible speck from the shoulder of his black suit, and finally ran her fingers lightly over the top of his oiled hair, and then, standing slightly back from him, she said, ‘To my mind you’re wasted on a gaming table.’

  ‘I’m never wasted on a gaming table.’ He pressed his lips together, jerked his chin to the side and winked at her.

  Her face becoming serious now, she said, ‘Be careful. The more I hear of that man, Nickle, the more perturbed I become.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t ask for a quieter, better mannered or refined gentleman, now could you?’

  ‘No; that makes him all the more sinister. It’s really unbelievable when you think of it, but I’m glad that he knows I’m aware of what he is. I wish I had been there when he put his tentative question: “Your wife, of course, knows nothing of our little . . . shall we say excursions into chance?” ’

  He took up a haughty stance and mimicked, ‘ “Sir, my wife knows everything; she’s a remarkable woman.” And she is that.’ He put out his hand and slapped the raised dome of her stomach, and she laughed and tut-tutted as she in return slapped at his hand. Then her manner becoming serious again, she said, ‘Well, there’s one thing I can be assured of, he won’t try any of his underhand business on you, because if he wants to silence you he’ll also have to silence me. Who are you expecting tonight?’

  ‘Who knows! My, my! It gets more surprising. You should have seen the look on Veneer’s face when he saw me there, in the Newcastle rooms I mean. I thought he was going to pass out. I nearly did meself an’ all. I couldn’t believe me eyes. Him, a staunch supporter of the Temperance League! They would burn him at the stake if they knew. Just imagine the ladies of this town who wave the banners for temperance getting wind of what their Mr Veneer’s up to . . . And you know something? I’d gather the kindling for them; I never could stand him. I remember your father once sending me on some business to his office. He spoke to me as if I were so much clarts. Sorry, madam.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘Mud from the gutter.’

  She was now standing in front of him holding his face firmly between her hands, and she said with deep pride, ‘Well, we’ve shown them. You’ve outwitted two of them already in business deals, and that’s only a beginning. What’s more, you’re the most fashionably dressed, best-looking man in the town, or the county for that matter.’ She tossed her head.

  He didn’t preen himself at her praise, but he said, ‘I keep sayin’ you’re a remarkable woman, and you are. Every day that passes I discover something more remarkable about you. The very fact that you raised no protest at my gaming amazes me.’

  ‘What is one evening a week? As long as your failings only embrace cards and wine I’ll be content.’

  He bent towards her now and kissed her gently on her hps, then said, ‘You can rest assured, Mrs Connor, that these shall be the limit of my failings. But now for orders.’ His manner changed, his voice took on a sterner note. ‘You are not to wait up for me, do you hear? Stoddard will pick me up at twelve, and when I get in I shall expect to find you in bed and fast asleep. If I don’t, then there’s going to be trouble.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  He stared at her for a moment before replying, ‘I’ll take up the other vice.’

  ‘No, don’t say that.’ There was no flippancy in her tone now. ‘Not even in joke say you’ll take up the third vice. That’s something I couldn’t bear.’

  ‘You silly woman, don’t you ever believe anything I say?’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘Well, what can I say to make you believe it?’

  She looked into his eyes. They were smiling kindly at her and she only just prevented herself from blurting out, ‘Say that you love me. Oh, say that you love me.’

  ‘Go on.’ She pushed him from the room and into the hall. It was she who helped him into his coat and handed him his hat and scarf. Then she stood at the top of the steps and watched him go down them and into the carriage, and she waved to him and he waved back. Then stretching out his legs, he leant his head against the leather upholstery and sighed a deep contented sigh.

  They were nearing the gate when the carriage was brought to an abrupt halt and he heard Stoddard shouting, ‘Whoa! Whoa, there!’ then add, ‘Who’s you?’

  He pulled down the window and looked out, and there in the light of the carriage lamps he saw Jimmy. Quickly opening the door, he called to the driver, ‘It’s all right, Stoddard,’ then to Jimmy, ‘Get in. What’s up? What’s happened?’

  As the carriage jerked forward again Jimmy bounced back on the seat, and again Rory demanded, ‘What is it? What’s happened now? Have they sunk another one?’

  ‘No.’ Jimmy shook his head. It’s nowt to do with the boats.’

  ‘Well, what is it? Something wrong at home?’ Rory’s inquiry was quiet, and when again Jimmy shook his head, he said almost angrily, ‘Well, spit it out, unless you’ve just come for a chat.’

  ‘I haven’t just come for a chat, and . . . and I’ve been hangin’ around for nearly an hour waitin’, waitin’ to see if you’d come out on your own.’

  ‘Why?’ Rory was sitting forward on the seat now. Their knees were touching. He peered into Jimmy’s white face, demanding, ‘Come on, whatever it is, tell us.’

  ‘You’re going to get a gliff, Rory.’

  ‘A gliff?’

  ‘Aye, you’ll . . . you’ll never believe it. You’d . . . you’d better brace yourself. It’s . . . it’s something you won’t be able to take in.’ When he stopped, Rory said quietly, ‘Well, tell us.’

  ‘It’s . . . it’s Janie.’

  Jimmy’s voice had been so soft that Rory thought he couldn’t possibly have heard aright; Jimmy’s words had been distorted, he imagined, by the grind­ing of the carriage wheels, so he said loudly, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said, it’s Janie.’

  ‘Janie?’ A sudden cold sweat swept over his body and his own voice was scarcely audible now when he asked, ‘What . . . what about Janie?’

  ‘She’s . . . she’s back. She’s . . . she’s not dead, she wasn’t drowned . . .’

  Rory didn’t utter a word, no protest, nothing, but his body fell back and his head once more touched the upholstery, and as if he had been shot into a nightmare again he listened to Jimmy’s voice saying, ‘I was petrified. It was her voice, but . . . but I wouldn’t open the door at first. And then . . . and then when I saw her, I still didn’t believe it was her. She’s . . . she’s changed. Nobody . . . nobody would recognize her. It . . . it was the shock. Her hair’s gone white, and her skin, her skin’s all brown like an Arab’s in Corstorphine Town. It’s the sun, she said. She’s . . . she’s been in some place in France miles off the beaten track. She talks about a priest comin’ once every six months. She’s changed, aye. I knew you’d get a gliff but . . . but I had to come. If . . . if I hadn’t she would have turned up herself. Eeh! she’s changed. What’ll you do, Rory? What’ll you do?’

  His world was spinning about him. He watched it spiralling upwards and away, taking with it the new way of living and the prestige it had brought to him. Sir, he was called, Master. She had given him everything a woman could possibly give a man, a home, wealth, position, and now a child. He had never been so happy in his life as he had been since he married her; and his feelings for her were growin
g deeper every day. You couldn’t live with a woman like that and receive so much from her and give nothing in return; something had been growing in him, and last night he had almost told her what it was, he had almost put a name to it. He had never thought he would be able to say to another woman, I love you. That kind of thing didn’t happen twice, he had told himself. No; and he was right, that kind of thing didn’t happen twice. But there were different kinds of love. It was even appearing to him that what he was feeling now would grow into a bigger love, a better love, a fuller love. Charlotte had said there were better marriages based on friendship than on professions of eternal love.

  He had once sworn eternal love for Janie, but he knew now that that had been the outcome of a boy’s love, the outcome of use, the outcome of growing up together, seeing no one beyond her . . .

  She couldn’t be back. She couldn’t. No! No! Life couldn’t play him a trick like that. He had gone to the Justice before he married Charlotte and the Justice had told him it was all right to marry again. “Drowned, presumed dead,” was what he had said. And she was dead. She had been dead to him for nearly two years now, and he didn’t want her resurrected.

  God Almighty! What was he saying? What was he thinking? He’d go mad.

  ‘Rory. Rory.’ Jimmy was sitting by his side now, shaking his arm. ‘Are you all right? I . . . I knew it’d give you a giiff; she . . . she scared me out of me wits. What are you gona do?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said what are you gona do?’

  He shook his head. What was he going to do?

  ‘She’s back in the boathouse; she wants to see you.’

  He stared dumbly at Jimmy for a time, then like someone drunk he leant forward and tapped on the roof of the carriage with his silver-mounted walking stick, and lowering the window again, he leant out and said, ‘Well get off here, Stoddard; I . . . I’ve a little business to attend to.’