‘Oh Ror-y, Ror-y.’ She made a slow movement with her head, then pressed her lips tightly together as he went on, ‘I want you to know this and believe it, for . . . for what I’m going to tell you now is going to come as a great shock. If it were possible to keep it from you I would, especially now when the last thing in the world I want you to have is worry, or shock, but . . . Aw God! how can I tell you?’ When he turned his head to the side she whispered. ‘Rory. Rory, please; whatever it is, listen to me, look at me, whatever it is, whatever you’ve done, it won’t alter my feelings for you, not by one little iota.’
He was looking at her again. ‘I haven’t done anything, Charlotte, not knowingly. It’s like this.’ He swallowed deeply on a long breath. ‘The other night, Saturday, when you sent me out so gaily to the game, Jimmy was waiting at the bottom of the drive. He . . . he had news for me . . .’
He stopped speaking. He couldn’t say it but gazed at her, and she didn’t say, ‘What news?’ but remained still, very still as if she knew what was coming.
. . . ‘He told me something amazing, staggering. I . . . I couldn’t believe it, but . . . but Janie, she had come back . . .Charlotte!Charlotte!’
As she lay back against the couch he watched the colour drain from her face until she had the appearance of someone who had just died, and he took her by the shoulders and shook her, crying again, ‘Charlotte! Charlotte! it’s all right. Listen, listen, it’s all right, I won’t leave you, I promise I won’t leave you. I know she can claim through law that . . . that she’s still my wife, but . . . but after seeing her, hearing her . . . I don’t know, I don’t know.’ He lowered his head, ‘She’s no more like the woman I married than . . .’
Charlotte had made a small groaning sound, and now he gathered her limp body into his arms and, stroking her hair, he muttered, ‘Believe me. Believe me, Charlotte, ‘I’ll never leave you. No matter what happens ‘I’ll never leave you unless . . . unless you want me to . . .’
. . . ‘Unless I want you to?’ Her voice was scarcely audible. ‘How . . . how can you say such a thing? I’d want you near me even if I knew you were a murderer, or a madman. Nothing you could do, nothing, nothing would ever make me want to be separated from you.’
‘Oh my dear! My dear!’
They were holding each other tightly now and, her mouth pressed against his cheek, she was murmuring, ‘How . . . how are you going to go about it? Does . . . does she know?’
He released her and sat slowly back against the couch. ‘I’m . . . I’m going down to tell her tonight.’
‘Where is she?’ In the boathouse.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, she would be there. That is why Jimmy was so concerned. It is strange but . . . but already I seem to have lost a family. I liked Jimmy, I liked him very much indeed. I . . . I had great plans for him, a new yard. I had been looking about on my own. It . . . it was to be a surprise for you, and your . . . your people. I thought they were coming to accept me, particularly your aunt, for it was she who from the beginning appeared the most distant. But these past few weeks, in fact only last Thursday when I met her in the boathouse, she was cooking for Jimmy, and she made a joke with me, and for the first time she didn’t address me as ma’am . . . and now . . . Oh! Oh, Rory!’ She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, and when her body began to shake with her sobbing his heart experienced an agony the like of which hitherto he hadn’t imagined he was capable of feeling. It was only the second time he had heard her cry. She wasn’t the weeping type; she was so strong, so self-assured; she was in command of herself and of him and of everyone else.
As he held her tightly to him he dwelt for a moment on the strangeness of life and what two years could do to a man’s feelings, and he realized that no man could really trust himself and say that what he was feeling today he would still feel tomorrow. A few moments ago he had told Charlotte he loved her and would never leave her; two years ago he had told Janie that he loved her and she would always and ever be the only one in his life. What was a man made of when he could change like this? It was past him, he couldn’t understand it. Yet there was one thing at the moment he was certain of, and that was that he no longer wanted Janie but he did want Charlotte, and that what he felt for her wasn’t mere gratitude but love, a love that owed nothing to externals but sprang from somewhere deep within him, a place that up till now he hadn’t known existed.
4
Janie had refused to take the money that Rory had left. Not until she was back in her rightful place, she had said, would she take a penny from him.
‘But Janie,’ Jimmy had pleaded, ‘you can’t go round looking like that, and . . . and all your clothes . . . well, they were given away, the Learys got them.’
‘Why can’t I go round like this, Jimmy? This is what I’ve worn for the last two years, and as I said, when I’m back in me rightful place then I’ll take money from him for clothes.’
On that night one of the first things she asked when he had come back into the room was, ‘What’s happened to John George?’
‘Oh,’ Jimmy had answered, ‘John George’s all right. He has a newspaper shop in Newcastle . . . and that lass is with him. When he got out he came back and saw her, and she left the man. Her father went after her and threatened both of them, but she said it was no good she wouldn’t go back. They’re all right,’ he had ended.
She had looked at him hard as she asked, ‘How did he come by the paper shop?’
‘Well.’ Jimmy had brought one foot up on to his knee and massaged his ankle vigorously while he said, ‘It was her . . . Charlotte, she saw to it.’
‘She saw to it? You mean to say, after sendin’ him along the line she set him up in a shop?’
‘Aye.’
‘And he let her?’
‘Oh aye, he held no grudge. That’s John George, you know. He’s too good to be true really, or soft, it’s how you take him. But she found out where he was, and she went up to him and talked with him and . . . and well, that was that . . . She’s kind, Janie.’
She had looked hard at him as she said, ‘I don’t know about kind, but one thing’s clear, she’s wily. She’s bought the lot of you. You’re for her, aren’t you, Jimmy? Hook, line and sinker you’re for her. And I’ll bet you’ll be telling me next that all them in the kitchen are at her feet an’ all.’
‘Oh no, Janie, oh no. There was hell to pay. They . . . they didn’t speak to him for ages.’
Slightly mollified, she held out her hands towards the blaze, then said quietly, ‘He doesn’t want me now, Jimmy. You can see it; he doesn’t want me.’
And Jimmy could make no reply to this by way of comfort . . .
Nor could he the next night after Rory had gone, nor last night, because each time they met they seemed to become further apart. They were like two boxers who hated each other. Even if Rory were to leave Charlotte he couldn’t see them ever living together again. He began to wonder why she was insisting on it.
He had just come in from the yard and the sight of her cooking a meal caused him to say, ‘Lizzie . . . Lizzie ’ll be down the morrow; she . . . she comes to bake. What you gona do, Janie?’
‘What do you think?’ She went on cutting thick slices from a piece of streaky bacon.
‘Well, you’ll give her a gliff.’
‘We’ve all had gliffs, Jimmy.’ Still continuing slicing the bacon, she didn’t look up as she said, ‘You didn’t mention it, but I suppose her ladyship’s been supportin’ them up there an’ all?’
It was some seconds before he answered, ‘Rory has, and it’s his own money, ’cos as he said he works hard for it. And he does, Janie. He travels about a lot, seein’ . . . seein’ to different businesses and things . . . and he studies . . .’
‘Studies!’ She raised her head and looked at him scornfully. ‘Rory Connor studies! What? New tricks in the card game?’
‘Don’t be so bitter, Janie.’
She flung the knife down so hard on to the table that i
t bounced off on to the floor, and, leaning towards him, she cried, ‘Jimmy, have you any idea how I feel, comin’ back here and finding I’m not wanted by nobody? Nobody. Oh—’ she moved her head slowly from shoulder to shoulder—‘how I wish I’d never got me memory back. Do you know something? I was happy back there. The life was hard, but they were good people, jolly, and they took to me.’ She now looked down towards the table. There’s something else I’ll tell you. There was a man there, the son . . . he wanted to marry me. There were few young ones in the village and they had to go miles and miles to reach the next settlement. But . . . but I still had me wedding ring on’—she held out her hand—‘and I said I must be married to somebody. They all worked it out that I’d been with me husband and child and they must have been both drowned ’cos I kept talking about the child afore I came round, so the priest said. He was on one of his visits when I was picked up. It was Miss Victoria. And . . . and then Henri pushed me off the rock and when I came up out of the water I remembered. They were all strange to me. I looked at them an’ saw them as I hadn’t afore, rough fisherfolk, rougher than anything you see round here, livin’ from hand to mouth. They only had two old boats atween the lot of them. It was his, Henri’s boat, that picked me up. He’—Her voice trailed away now, as she ended, ‘He sort of felt I belonged to him ’cos of that.’
When she raised her eyes again to Jimmy she said softly, ‘They all came and saw me off. They walked the five miles with me to where we met the priest and he took me on to the next village in the cart. And you know something? He warned me, that priest. He warned me that things would’ve changed. And do you know what I said to him, Jimmy? I said to him, “Well I know, Father, of one who won’t have changed, me husband . . .’
It was half an hour later when they’d almost finished the meal that Jimmy, scraping the fat up from his plate with a piece of bread, said tentatively, ‘What’ll happen, Janie, if . . . if he won’t leave her?’
‘He’s got to leave her. He’s got no other option, it’s the law.’
‘Janie—’ He chewed on the fat-soaked piece of bread, swallowed it, then said, ‘Rory’s never cared much for the law. I mean he hasn’t bothered about what people think. What if he says, I mean ’cos of the bairn comin’, “To hell with the law!” and stays with her, what then?’
‘What then? Well, she’ll be living in sin won’t she? And she’s prominent in the town, and the gentry won’t stand for that, not in the open they won’t. Things can happen on the side, but if it came out in court that he wouldn’t take me back, and me his wife, and he went on living with her, why neither of them would dare show their faces. There’s things that can be done and things that can’t be done, especially in Westoe; it isn’t like along the riverfront here. And he’ll find that out. Oh aye, he’ll find that out.’
It was at this point in the conversation that the door opened and Rory entered. She did not turn and look at him, and he walked slowly towards the fireplace.
Jimmy, rising flustered from the table, said, ‘Hello there.’
Rory nodded towards him, but gave him no reply. He had taken off his hat and was holding it in one hand which was hanging by his side; then looking at Janie he said, ‘Do you think we could talk quietly?’
‘That’s up to you.’ She did not even glance towards him.
‘I’ve . . . I’ve made a decision.’
She said nothing, but waited, and he glanced towards Jimmy, whose eyes were tight on him. Before he spoke again he stretched his chin up out of the collar of his overcoat. ‘I’m not going to leave her, Janie.’
She made no move in any way, no sign.
‘You’ll take me to court as is your right, and I’ll maintain you, and well too, as is also your right, but . . . but she’s carrying my child and I’m not leaving her.’
Now she did turn towards him and, like a wild cat, she spat her words at him. ‘You’re a swine! Do you know that? You’re a rotten, bloody swine, Rory Connor! And, as I said to Jimmy, you do this and you won’t be able to lift your head up in this town. Aye, and I’ll see you don’t, I’ll take you to court. By God! I will. It’ll be in all the papers; both you an’ her’ll have to hide yourselves afore they’ve finished with you. And her money won’t save you, not from this disgrace it won’t . . .’
As he stared back into her face which was livid with passion, he thought, even if Charlotte were to die at this minute I wouldn’t go back to her; I could never live with her again. His thoughts, swirling back over the past, tried to find the man he had been, the man who had loved this woman, the man who had sworn always to love her, but in vain. And so he said, ‘Do what you think you have to do; if it’ll make you feel any better go the whole hog; but I’d like to remind you that Shields isn’t the only town on the planet. The world is wide and when you have money you can settle where you like.’ He felt no compunction now at throwing his money at her.
He stared at her a moment longer. She was not recognizable to him; the white hair, the brown skin, even her eyes were no longer Janie’s. He pulled on his hat, saying, ‘Well, that’s that; the rest is up to you,’ and, turning, went out; and as he always did on these visits, Jimmy followed him into the yard.
It was a bright evening; the twilight was long in passing. They walked side by side down to the end of the yard and stood against the railing bordering the river. The moored boats were bobbing on the water beneath them. They stood looking down into them, until he asked, ‘Do you blame me?’
There was a short pause before Jimmy answered, ‘No, not really, Rory, no. But . . . but I’m sorry for her. I can see her side of it an’ all.’
‘Well, I would expect you to ’cos she has got a side. And I’m sorry for her too. At this moment I’m sorry for us all.’
He looked up and down the river as he said, ‘Things were going so fine. I was riding high, I was me own man. Even with Charlotte’s money I was me own man, because I knew I was making meself felt in the business.’ He looked down at Jimmy. ‘You know, as I said, we could go away. I thought of that as I came along. We could move to any place in the country, but somehow I don’t want to leave this town. And I know she doesn’t. But anyway, no matter where we go we’ll see you’re all right.’
‘Aw . . . aw, don’t worry about me, Rory, I’ll get through. And you’ve done more than enough already. By the way, I didn’t tell you, ’cos you’ve got enough on your plate, but those buggers down there must have been up to something last night. I heard somebody in the yard, more than one. I . . . I thought they were comin’ under the house, and then a patrol boat came up and stopped—it stops most nights—and I heard nothing after that. I . . . I was a bit scared.’
‘Get Richardson to come along and stay with you.’
‘Aye, I will, but I think I must look for somebody else, somebody single. You see, he’s got his wife and family.’
‘You do that. Tell them they’ll be well paid.’
Jimmy nodded; then he asked quietly, ‘What’s going to happen her . . . Janie? I mean, will she want to go on livin’ here? It’s awkward. She says she’s going up home the night or the morrow. Well, if she does she might decide to stay up there.’
‘Home? Huh!’ Rory tossed his head back. They’ll have a field day with this. Our dear Lizzie will come out with all the sayings back to Noah: As ye sow so shall ye reap; Pride goes before a fall; Big heid small hat. Oh, I can hear her.’
‘I . . . I don’t think so, Rory. You know, I’ve always meant to say this to you, but you don’t see Lizzie as she really is. She’s all right is Lizzie, and I’ve never been able to understand why you still hold it against her. And I look at it this way: after what’s happened to you if you don’t see her side now you never will.’
‘Aye. Aye, I suppose you’re right . . . Well, I’ll be off. I . . . won’t come back as long as she’s here. Come up, will you, whenever you can and let me know how things are going? I’ll want to know when I’m to expect the authorities.’
‘All right,
Rory, I’ll let you know. Tell Charlotte I wish her well, and I’m sorry . . .’
‘I will; shell be grateful. So long then.’
‘So long, Rory, so long.’
They looked at each other for a moment longer, then Rory turned away and walked slowly out of the yard.
Jimmy waited a while before returning to the house, and it was as he mounted the steps that he heard her crying. When he entered the room he saw her, her face buried in her arms on the table, her body shaking.
He did not go to her but went and sat by the side of the fire and, following his habit, he brought his foot on to his knee again and stroked his ankle vigorously. It would do her good, he told himself, to cry it out. Perhaps it would wash away some of the bitterness in her.
After a moment he slid his foot off his knee and looked down at the triangular shape made by his legs; he had always hated them for from the beginning they had erased any hope of him ever finding a lass of his own; no lass wanted to be seen walking the streets alongside him. He had gone through a lot of body torment, and occasionally he still did, but these feelings he mostly sublimated in his affection for the family and his love for Rory . . . Aye, and her sitting behind him there.
But now at this particular moment as he looked down at his legs he was in a way grateful to them, for because of them he would never experience the agony that Rory, Janie and Charlotte were enduring at this minute.
Life was funny, it handed out compensations in very odd ways.
5
‘You’re sure, darling, quite sure?’
‘I’m as sure as I will be of anything in me life. You won’t regret it. I’ll never let you regret it for one moment.’
The Gambling Man Page 26