by Paul Henke
He thought about this for a few moments. ‘Mmm. Gosh, when I think how often I carried her books from the schoolhouse to her buggy and showed her how to swim and even let her ride King . . . and now she won’t even talk to me.’
‘That’s women, son. Everything has to go their way or no way at all. And if it don’t – well – you got to look out. There’s a saying that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I reckon that’s one saying that can be expanded in meaning and cut down in words. Hell hath no fury like a woman, full stop!’
He sighed. ‘I suppose so. Are all women like that? I mean,’ he looked around though there was nobody in ear shot, ‘is Mam like that too?’
I laughed. ‘Sometimes son but there’s another saying about the exception proving the rule. Well, that’s your Mam.’
‘I see,’ said David, reflectively.
‘So don’t give Gunhild another thought, David. There’s plenty more fish in the sea and you’re too young to be thinking about any one of them. Heck when I was your age I preferred to go and do other things with my spare time, rather than chase women.’ I did not add I was down a mine fourteen hours a day and by the time I was his age I had been doing so for nearly three years.
David took another drink of his punch and pulled a face. ‘I don’t think I like this stuff,’ he handed the glass to me. ‘Do you want it, Uncle James?’
I took the glass and got to my feet. ‘Tell you the truth, David, I don’t neither.’ And with that I poured what was left of both glasses into the large potted plant that was just at the foot of the stairs. ‘I hope it doesn’t die,’ I added with a grin and David laughed.
We returned to the living room. There was some sort of dancing going on, a reel I think it was called. I stood by the wall, a beer in my hand watching them. I kept my eyes skinned too, but a woman sneaked up on me before I saw her.
‘Why, James, fancy standing here and not dancing,’ she said with a giggle that rasped on my nerves. From anybody else, somebody about forty years younger, it might not have been so bad.
‘Hullo, Doris. I wondered where you were,’ I said, though I did not add – so I could keep out of your way. I guess that was too much to ask in a party of two hundred and fifty people. After all there were only so many rooms to hide in and only so may groups to lose myself among. Of course, I could have hidden in my bedroom but damn it, it was my party too and I wanted to enjoy it. Besides, I would not have put it past her to have come there looking for me. She’d been a widow for some five or six years, and had let it ‘slip’ she was only fifty five. I reckoned she looked sixty five. She was a nice enough person, homely and I knew she was a good cook but her conversation always repelled me. Notice I don’t describe her. After all, what can a man say about a woman of that age, who’d had five children in her time and liked to cook? Suffice it to say I could not have imagined her in my bed. Though she obviously could.
‘Are you enjoying yourself ?’ I asked politely, clearing my throat and wishing like hell she would go away.
‘Yes, thank you, now I’ve found you.’ She gave a little smile, her plump cheeks dimpling in a way that might have been appealing half a life time earlier. I let the compliment go unheeded, waiting for what I was sure was coming next. I was not disappointed.
‘I see you are still living with Meg and Evan,’ she began right on cue.
‘Yep,’ was all I said.
‘Don’t you get fed up with it? I know I would.’
‘No, I like it here. I’ve got myself a nice room, a good stock of books and I like having the kids and Meg and Evan around me.’
‘Aha,’ she said, as though this was the first time she’d spotted the flaw in my argument, though she had heard it before and reacted in the same way each time. ‘You might like it but have you thought if they like it? Don’t you think they might be just a little fed up with you falling over their feet all day? Always around to hear their most secret family arguments? Now ask yourself, is that fair, now is it?’
I had asked myself that many times in the past and I was still asking it. Soon after we’d arrived and the business was doing well I had suggested I found my own place to live. I was sure that Meg and Evan’s reaction had been neither false nor motivated by anything other than the fact that they did not want me to go. Doris mentioning it raised my old doubts.
‘You may be right at that,’ I said heavily, admitting it to her for the first time. I think my answer was so different to what I usually said that she was into her next attack before it dawned on her.
‘James Price, what did you say?’ She asked, astonished and full of glee at the same time.
‘I said . . .’ I began but did not get any further. That was another thing about the blasted woman, she could talk the hind leg off a donkey.
‘Of course I’m right. Now my place is much too big for me on my own. I’m not suggesting you move in as a lodger mind . . .’
Like a beautiful and serene angel Meg came to my rescue. She did look beautiful that night, even more so than usual if that was possible. She had her hair piled on the top of her head, and was wearing a blue dress that bunched up under her bosom and flowed down to the floor. ‘What are you looking so serious about, Uncle James?’
Naturally it was Doris who answered. ‘I’d just been saying how annoying it must be for you all to have him under your feet all day and he was agreeing. We were discussing how soon he could come and move in with me – not as a lodger,’ she added hastily.
I was so surprised I did not know what to say. Christ but she had jumped to some conclusions I would never have thought possible from the few words I had said.
‘He will do no such thing,’ Meg said with some austerity. ‘This is his home as much as it is ours and we wouldn’t dream of him living anywhere else.’ She tucked her arm through mine. ‘You don’t really want to leave us, Uncle James, do you?’ She asked, giving my arm a squeeze.
I cleared my throat as something seemed to have jammed itself in there. ‘No, Meg, I’d hate it,’ I said with all honesty. A year with that bloody woman and she would have talked me into an early grave. Talked? Nagged would have been more like it. I had never known a home like the one I was living in now, nor a family I had cared for more. When I was honest with myself I remembered life had not been as good with my wife as my memory sometimes suggested. I lived for the joy of seeing Meg and Evan and the kids and for being a part of their lives. I had just turned sixty six and I wanted to end my days in the company of the people I had grown to love.
‘Good, then that’s settled. This is where you live and this is where you’re going to stay. Gosh, Uncle James, we need you more than ever and don’t you forget it. Now come on, let’s go and dance.’ She dragged me away, leaving Doris glowering after us. Her words had bucked me up more than I can say. After that I enjoyed the rest of the evening.
1895 was no better and no worse than the previous year. That in itself was an improvement because the last few years during the depression had all been downhill. The tide, hopefully, was turning, at last.
We had been to New York for John Buchanan’s farewell to the sea party. We renewed our acquaintance with a number of people, including Senator George Hughes and his wife Mabel, and the banker Eric Johnson. His daughter was there too, as scornful as ever with an insipid husband who seemed to spend his life running around answering her every beck and call. The only noteworthy event was the interesting discussion we had about politics – and a further suggestion by John that Evan take a more active role. This time Evan did not dismiss it so lightly.
27
Meg came to find me one day soon after my escape from Doris. She looked desperately worried.
‘Uncle James,’ she said, ‘we went out for a walk and Evan insisted we should go into the casino and watch. He said that we’ve lived here for four years and have never even put a foot inside. I was reluctant but he made it clear he was going to see what was happening there, so I gave in.’
‘Did you find it interestin
g?’ I asked.
‘It was intriguing at first, watching the roulette and some of the card games but then I got bored and suggested we should leave. Evan was watching a poker game and though he’d played a bit at home it was different there. The men were all so, I don’t know, intense, I guess. Anyway, it wasn’t the same and Evan was fascinated. He bought ten dollars worth of chips, which are used instead of money. Evan won at first. I told him we should leave, but he wouldn’t come. And now . . . oh, Uncle James, I don’t know what to do. He’s losing and I’m afraid he’s losing quite a lot of money. He’s still there. I’m sure he thinks he can win it all back.’
I went with Meg to the casino, where I stood behind Evan and watched what was going on. There were five men around the table including Evan. He must have had a few hundred dollars worth of chips in front of him. I was in time to see the others drop out of the hand and Evan call the unsavoury character opposite him. Evan lost.
Meg bent down to talk to him. ‘Evan, let’s go, please? I have a headache and . . .’ Evan looked at her with an irritation I had never seen before and Meg stepped back startled.
I watched the character opposite enjoy their exchange then he said: ‘Yes, why don’t you go, Griffiths? We all know how tied you are to her apron strings. It’s well known around St Louis,’ he sneered.
‘He is not tied . . .’ began Meg but got no further.
‘Shut up, Meg,’ said Evan savagely, ‘and go away.’ He turned his back to her and faced the man again. ‘It’s your deal, Thorgood.’
I saw Meg’s face crease with pain as she fought back her tears. Thorgood sneered at her and started to deal. I put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her away. She came unresistingly but not willingly. I bought us a couple of large brandies and we sat at a quiet table. Her hand was shaking when she lifted the glass. She choked and coughed on the fiery spirit and tears came to her eyes, brimming and threatening to flood over.
‘How did it happen?’ I asked. ‘I mean, how did he come to get into a game like that?’ I paused to sip my own drink. My hand was none too steady either. ‘It’s so out of character for Evan to do something so bloody, bloody stupid.’
‘I know,’ her lip trembled and then she couldn’t help herself but buried her head on my shoulder to cry.
After a few moments she pulled herself together and sat up. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle James. I must look a mess . . . oh damn. I think I’m going to cry again.’ She took a gulp of her drink and held back the tears.
‘Do you know how he got into the game?’ I asked again.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I went to . . . to the wash room, and by the time I’d returned he was playing. I . . . I stood and watched for a while and saw him win a little and then he began to lose. I guess he’d lost about a hundred dollars when I came to fetch you. Could you get me another brandy, please?’ She held out her empty glass.
I took it and went to the bar. I was worried, very worried. I had never seen Evan like that. I had noticed the whiteness of his pallor, the way he couldn’t keep his hands still when he picked up the cards. I had never heard him talk to Meg like that, either. Oh, they had their arguments but they were never real rows. And they always made up afterwards, no matter how ungracefully the loser gave in. After all they were both strong minded people. But this? I had read about gambling fever. It was often compared to gold fever and had ruined many a good man. I prayed it did not have a hold on Evan. The old man looked at me from across the bar, appearing older than I cared to remember him, mirroring my frown. I returned to Meg.
‘What shall we do?’ she asked in a quiet voice, taking the drink with a nod of thanks.
‘I’m not sure. How much money does Evan have?’
‘Not that much. A few hundred dollars. Huh, hark at me, not that much. That’s more than the insurance money we got when Evan’s parents died. Funny how one’s money values change, isn’t it? Oh my God . . .’
‘What’s the matter?’ My heart lurched at the further anguish in her voice.
‘Remember a year or so back when we were returning from New York and we saw that advertisement for an auction of bankrupt stock? Evan was annoyed because we didn’t have enough money with us to attend. Remember after that he said he was going to carry an emergency fund with him at all times?’
I nodded, I remembered only too well. I also remembered the amount without Meg having to remind me.
‘It was ten thousand dollars, Uncle James. It’s in that special pouch he had made. He used it once, not all that long ago. Remember that deal? All those cans of food at ten cents in the dollar? The profit was incredible.’
‘I suppose he has the money on him now?’
Meg nodded. ‘What if he uses that? What’ll we do then?’
I shook my head slowly. I was out of my depth. I did not know what to suggest. If Meg couldn’t get him away then there was little chance of me doing so.
‘I know one thing,’ Meg suddenly said with fierce determination, ‘sitting here doesn’t help,’ She stood up, leaving the rest of her drink. ‘Come on, Uncle James. Let’s go and see what’s happening. I’ll get him away from that game come hell or high water. And damn that pig sitting opposite him.’ She tossed her head and walked away. I hurriedly finished my brandy and followed.
Evan now had a stack of chips in front of him that must have been worth a few thousand dollars at least. There was a pile of chips in the middle of the table and I caught my breath when I heard Thorgood say: ‘I see your five hundred and raise you seven hundred.’
The man next to him threw his cards down with disgust. ‘Too rich for me, I’m out.’
‘Me too,’ said another. One of the players had already quit and that left just Evan and Thorgood.
‘Well, Griffiths,’ Thorgood said with a sneer, which seemed to be his perpetual way of talking. ‘Are you going to go along or fold?’
‘Don’t, Evan,’ said Meg. ‘Throw it in. Come away, please.’ She was standing just behind him and to one side. ‘It isn’t worth it, Evan,’ the anguish in her voice fell on deaf ears.
Thorgood looked at Evan and said, ‘This isn’t an open game where advice is given Griffiths. Either play or jack it. And tell this bitch to stop bothering the game.’
I waited for the explosion from Evan which I was sure would break the spell. Nobody spoke about Meg like that in Evan’s presence. There was no explosion. No lurching across the table and giving the man the good hiding he deserved. I could not believe it. I shook my head for suddenly I couldn’t seem to think straight.
‘Go away,’ was all Evan said, not looking around. She did not move and he turned his head. His eyes were like chips of blue flint and when he looked at her there was a contempt I had never imagined possible. Meg shrank back. ‘Go away,’ he repeated.
Thorgood was smiling hugely, enjoying the drama. If I’d had my gun with me I am sure I would have shot the man and damned the consequences.
Meg made as though to protest, but with a short cry she turned and rushed from the room. She knocked over a waiter who was approaching with a tray of drinks but did not stop. I was torn between running after her and staying. I decided on the latter. The only man who could comfort her now was sitting at the table, his cards already in his hands, a frown of concentration on his brow.
Evan hesitated. I could see the cards he held. Three queens. I knew it was not a bad hand. Don’t do it you fool, I willed him. He picked up the chips and threw them into the pile. ‘See you,’ he said in a voice I hardly recognised.
Thorgood threw down three tens and two fours and won the hand. Evan slumped further into his chair. When the waiter returned with another load of drinks Evan tossed his off and ordered another. It looked like bourbon, barely lightened with water.
‘I’ve had enough for one night,’ said one of the players, a big fat man who had been drinking glass after glass of beer. For a moment I hoped they would all pack it in but that hope was short lived.
‘I’m game for some more if you
fellows are,’ said the man on Evan’s left and the man next to him agreed. So did Thorgood. Evan said nothing.
‘What about you, Griffiths?’ Thorgood taunted.
‘Whose deal is it?’ Evan asked by way of an answer.
‘Yours,’ said Thorgood. I had never seen Evan in such a state. It was the weirdest thing, watching him go slowly to pieces.
One of the men asked if I wanted to join and I declined, saying I did not understand the game too well.
God knows how long I stood there. All I do know is that my feet and back ached atrociously and in spite of all the coffee I could hardly stay awake. Something about the game began to puzzle me and it took ages to see what. Now, I’ve admitted I knew little about the mechanics of poker but that was not important. I realised that though Evan and the others won they did not win as often as Thorgood. And when they did their pile of chips was not as high either. Thorgood won most of the hands he served, carefully raising the bidding each time. Perhaps if there had been other spectators he might not have been so casual about it but with just me – and I had admitted a lack of understanding of the game – and the waiter who was there only fleetingly, Thorgood must have felt safe.
Perhaps it was because I disliked the man so much I wanted to believe he was cheating. So I looked for it. It was not even clever stuff like dealing off the bottom. Or, at least, if he was doing that I couldn’t see it. No, he just kept a card up his sleeve and when the time was right he would play it. I turned away to think about the problem and get another cup of coffee when with a shock I saw the sun coming over the horizon. The night had gone and with it at least five thousand dollars of Evan’s money.
I thought about what Thorgood was doing and thought back to some of the games I could remember. Thorgood’s most consistent winning hands were full houses and four of a kind.