Our Mother's House

by Julian Gloag

  It diminished more quickly this time, and at last they were eating in a silence disturbed only by an occasional wash of giggles. Gerty grinned as she munched, cooing happily.

  “Gerty’s a d-dove,” said Jiminee.

  “I’m not a dove.”

  “I’m a tiger,” said Willy.

  “No you’re not.” The crumbs spilled out of Gerty’s mouth. “You’re a little boy.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  Hubert listened to them. He was thinking, this is how the holidays ought to be, when Diana, followed by Dunstan, entered the kitchen. The little ones fell silent.

  “Hello,” said Elsa, “you’re late. But there’s still some tea left and—”

  “We didn’t come for tea.”

  Diana shook her head gently. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “We came,” said Dunstan, “to ask … someone … a question.” He examined each of them with care and then, slowly, drew from his trouser pocket a small white leather purse. He held it up and the embroidered beads flashed. “Whose is this?”

  There was a moment’s silence. Then, “Don’t be an idiot, Dun,” Hubert said, “you know perfectly well it’s Gerty’s.”

  Dunstan smiled. “I just wanted to be sure, Hubert.” He turned his glasses on the little girl. “It is your purse, isn’t it, Gerty?”

  Without a word, Gerty slid off her chair and ran round to Elsa. Elsa put her arm over the little girl’s shoulder.

  Dunstan raised his head, brushing away the lock of dark hair that shut out the light from his white forehead. He held the purse higher. “I smell a thief in this room.” He was smiling. “Who smells like a thief?”

  Hubert stood up. “You do! You got Gerty’s purse.”

  “Give Gerty back her purse,” said Willy, smiling smugly and looking round for approval. But no one else smiled.

  “Willy,” began Dunstan quietly, but Diana touched his arm. “Tell them, Dunstan,” she said.

  Slowly Dunstan lowered the purse, twisting it so the cheap mother-of-pearl beads winked in the light, and then snapped it open. “Look!” He pulled out a ten-shilling note and held it high above his head.

  “Ten shillings! Now we know who the thief is, don’t we?” He was grim. “Where did you get it, Gerty?”

  Gerty stared at him with wide-open eyes and then hid her face against Elsa. Elsa looked down and stroked the little girl’s hair. She turned her face to Dunstan with a frown. “Don’t bully her, Dunstan. She’s too little to—”

  “Where did she get the money?” said Dunstan.

  “She’s too little,” Elsa reiterated, “she—”

  “Too little to tell, I suppose, but not too little to steal,” said Dunstan sarcastically.

  “How do you know she stole it?” said Hubert.

  “How else would Gerty get ten bob?”

  Hubert turned anxiously to Elsa.

  She was still frowning. “I’ll ask her in private,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll tell me when we’re alone.”

  “That’s right,” said Hubert with relief.

  “That’s right, is it? Tell Elsa in private, so she can make up a pack of lies? There isn’t anything private about stealing. She’s got to be tried. We’re going to give her a trial.”

  There was a whimper from Gerty.

  “You’ll be the judge, I suppose,” said Hubert angrily.

  “Oh, no, Hubert,” Diana broke in, “Dunstan won’t be the judge—none of us will be the judge.” She smiled. “Mother will decide.”

  Elsa stood up; Gerty still clung to her. “I think,” Elsa said, “that we should have a meeting. We haven’t had one for a long time. I think this business about Gerty should be talked over in a meeting. There are other things, too, you all ought to know—”

  “You and your meetings!” said Dunstan.

  “Shut up,” Hubert shouted, “other people want to talk occasionally!”

  “—we ought to discuss this business about the swing in the garden. And there’s another thing too. I won’t—”

  “Do you think meetings are really necessary now?” asked Diana gently.

  Elsa drew a deep breath. “We’ve always had meetings.” She looked at her golden-haired sister. “Ever since there was just you and me, we’ve—”

  “And Mother,” Diana interrupted.

  “—and Mother—we’ve always had them. We should all know what’s happening. We’re brothers and sisters, aren’t we? We should all decide, and I never heard anyone complain about that before. We never called each other names till lately. We all seem to have forgotten about counting ten. Mother always said we’ve got to keep up to the mark—”

  “Oh, Elsa! She still does!” Diana said.

  Elsa ignored the interruption. “And I don’t see,” she went on earnestly, “I don’t see how we can keep up to the mark unless we have meetings. It’s not Willy’s or Gerty’s fault they’re so disobedient lately, it’s because there’s no meeting to tell them what to do. We’ve got to have … We’ve got to have—”

  “An organization,” Hubert put in.

  “—an organization. We’ve got to abide by the rules. We can’t all just do what we want because—because of what’s happened. We’re a family and a family’s got to have meetings—there’s things to decide, there’s things to—”

  “All right,” said Dunstan, “you have your silly meetings. We’re going to have a trial and—”

  “Hush, Dunstan,” Diana restrained him. “But, Elsa, we do have meetings. In the tabernacle. We have meetings every night and—”

  “That’s not the same,” said Elsa.

  Diana cast down her eyes and smoothed her skirt. Then she looked up. “They’re only different because we have Mother there, Elsa. You’re not saying you’d rather not have Mother there, are you?”

  “Well—no,” Elsa floundered. “But that’s Mothertime you’re talking about. Meetings are different. Dun thinks so—he said they were silly!”

  “He only meant meetings without Mother were silly,” Diana answered patiently.

  Hubert stared at Elsa, waiting for her answer. But she had none.

  “Then that’s settled, isn’t it?” said Diana. “Dunstan and I will go and prepare for Mothertime.”

  “And the trial,” added Dunstan.

  Diana merely smiled.

  The two of them left the kitchen.

  Elsa roused herself. “Tea’s over,” she said. “You can get down now.”

  “My black wife wants another biscuit,” Willy announced.

  “Willy!” said Hubert sharply. The little boy pouted.

  “Get down now,” Elsa repeated. “Jiminee, you take the little ones upstairs.” She bent down and gently loosened Gerty’s tight hug. “It’ll be all right,” she murmured.

  Jiminee came round the table and put his hand into Gerty’s. “Come on, Gert. We’ll p-play p-piggy backs, if you like.”

  Gerty looked up at him. Slowly she raised her free hand and slipped her thumb into her mouth. No one had the heart to raise the usual cry, “No thumbs!”

  Jiminee led her from the kitchen, Willy following behind.

  Hubert and Elsa were left alone with the dirty dishes. They gazed at the desecration of the tea table. The red and yellow biscuit papers lay crumpled like discarded banners by Gerty’s plate. The scrubbed table top was patched with spilled jam and splashed milk. Somebody had upset most of the sugar.

  Hubert sighed and began to gather up the mugs. Without exactly knowing how, he thought, they had lost another battle.

  13

  The rain dripped through the cracks of the boards that covered the tabernacle. It was raining with summer persistence and already the tiny thump of isolated drops was giving way to a steady splash as the carpet gradually became waterlogged. The bright glare of the torch Dunstan held killed the rain-washed light that filtered through the boards over the doorway. The torch light reflected upwards from the pages of the book and illuminated the bottom half of Dian
a’s face. Elsewhere the tabernacle was dark. Jungle-hot darkness, thought Hubert.

  She was reading again from the Song of Solomon. Sometimes it was other places in the Old Testament, but mostly the Song. She never read about Jesus anymore.

  The children sat cross-legged in the darkness and listened.

  I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer …

  Hubert closed his eyes to shut out the tremulous vibrations of Diana’s voice. Not to listen, in his mind’s eye he surveyed the tiny chamber they were in. There was no Mothersmell, but in every other way the tabernacle was a miniature of Mother’s room upstairs. The chest of drawers, its varnished top already beginning to warp and crack, took up most of the tiny space. On it were Mother’s wigstand and the wig and comb, the wash basin, whose cracked edge was still un-mended, and the soap dish, the broken watch and the unlit night light. To one side stood the copper jug filled with water. The only chair was Mother’s basket chair in the corner, on which no one was allowed to sit. The carpet they sat on, from Mother’s room, had been carefully folded to fit the tabernacle.

  As a piece of pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks. There are threescore queens …

  Hubert rubbed the rainwater along his arm and massaged the stiffness of his grazed knuckles. Soon they were raw again with dampness, but the pain comforted him somehow and he opened his eyes.

  At last the reading stopped. Diana closed the book and raised her head. There were tears on her face.

  Then Dunstan switched off the torch, and slowly the figures of the children emerged in the dimness.

  “Does anyone want to speak to Mother?” asked Diana.

  There was a long silence. Hubert turned his head and looked at the white blob of Gerty’s face. She sat on Elsa’s left, and Hubert was on Elsa’s right.

  “Does anyone want to speak to Mother?” Diana asked again, without change of tone.

  Hubert felt the movement as Elsa put her arm around Gerty’s shoulder.

  There was no answer, and the sound of the rain seemed especially loud.

  “Gerty wants to speak.” It was Dunstan. Hubert held his breath hard, as if to escape detection.

  “No she doesn’t,” came the frightened answer. “Gerty has a tummy ache.”

  There was a faint giggle of relief. Abruptly Dunstan shone the torch at Jiminee. Jiminee blinked and put his hand up to his eyes. There was absolute silence in the tabernacle. The torch went out.

  Dunstan’s voice came out of the dark. “Gerty has a tummy ache.”

  “Gerty has a tummy ache,” came the echo from Diana.

  There was a pause and then in a gentle singsong came the reply, “Mother says what has Gerty done wrong.”

  Hubert gripped his knee hard.

  “What has Gerty done wrong?”

  Gerty sniffed. “Nothink.”

  “Nothing?” chanted Dunstan.

  “Nothing?” answered Diana.

  The beam of light flashed out suddenly at Gerty.

  “Think again,” said Dunstan sharply. “Isn’t there something you want to confess, Gerty? Isn’t there? Isn’t there?”

  The little girl jerked away from the light and hid her head against Elsa.

  “You cannot hide from Mother,” said Diana gently.

  “You cannot hide,” said Dunstan.

  “She’s too little,” burst out Hubert, “she doesn’t understand. Let her alone, can’t you?”

  “She’s old enough to know she’s sinned,” said Dunstan. “Look at her turn away in guilt.”

  The light shone on Elsa’s hand stroking Gerty’s hair.

  “You stole the money, didn’t you?”

  Her face still hidden, Gerty almost imperceptibly shook her head.

  “Oh, Mother,” murmured Diana, “dear Mother.”

  “You stole the money from Mother’s housekeeping, didn’t you, Gerty?”

  “You’re making Mother so sad,” said Diana.

  “And angry,” Dunstan added.

  Abruptly the beam of light shifted down to the floor and picked out Gerty’s white purse lying in the centre of the carpet. The shiny beads twinkled. Gerty’s hand darted out to snatch.

  “No!”

  The hand hesitated.

  “No!” The beam shot up to Gerty’s face. “No!” barked Dunstan.

  Gerty drew back as though hit. But she did not hide her face. “It’s my purse,” she whispered.

  “You stole the money that’s in that purse—didn’t you?”

  “Didn’t you?” echoed Diana.

  “You better own up or Mother’ll be—”

  “I didn’t, I didn’t,” cried Gerty.

  “Mother’s waiting,” Diana said.

  “She didn’t steal the money,” Elsa broke in calmly. “It’s all there. I counted it. And so did Hu—didn’t you, Hu?”

  “Yes.”

  The light wavered to Elsa’s face. “But,” said Dunstan uncertainly, “you must have made a mistake. There must be ten bob gone.”

  “Well, there isn’t, so that’s that. And it’s no good accusing me of being a liar, Dunstan Hook. You’re making a fuss about nothing—just because you choose to see wickedness in every corner.” A sigh came from the children—a release of fear-pent breath. “I’m sick and tired of you trying to boss everybody about,” she went on. “We’re all fed up with it, come to that. Why don’t you just pipe down for a change?”

  “Elsa,” Diana’s voice quivered, “how could you be so unkind?”

  “It’s not unkind, it’s true!”

  “You’ve forgotten Mother,” Diana softly accused.

  Elsa flushed. “I have not forgotten Mother—what’s Mother got to do with this? Mother’s—”

  A warning grip from Hubert stopped her in mid-sentence. She took a deep breath. “That isn’t the point. The point is—”

  “What’s the point?” said Dunstan.

  “The point is—the point is Gerty didn’t take the money, so—will you stop shining the torch in my face?”

  “The point is,” Dunstan said quietly, without shifting the torch, “where did Gerty get the money?”

  “She—she probably found it,” Elsa’s voice carried a hint of anxiety. “What’s wrong with that?”

  The beam swung to Gerty. “Did you find it, Gerty?”

  The little girl stared unblinkingly into the light.

  Hubert said abruptly, “Why don’t you mind your own business, Dun? She didn’t steal it—so what does it matter where she got it from?”

  “It’s not my business, Hubert,” Dunstan replied. “It’s Mother’s business. Who says she didn’t steal it? You haven’t got much of a memory, have you, Hu? Didn’t Gerty steal your silver threepenny bit? Don’t you remember that? Didn’t she steal Diana’s special hanky that Mother gave her? Don’t you remember that? Gerty’s a little thief. There’s lots of other places she could have stolen ten shillings from—not just the housekeeping.” He turned on Gerty. “Aren’t there, Gerty?” he said fiercely.

  “It’s mine,” Gerty whispered sullenly.

  “How did you get it then?”

  “I think,” said Elsa, “I think you better tell, Gerty.”

  Gerty turned her face up to Elsa, and gave her a long solemn stare. “It was a present,” she said at last.

  The children were silent with surprise.

  “A present?” said Dunstan disbelievingly. “You expect Mother to believe that?”

  “It was a present, it was!”

  “Who from, then?”

  “Who did you get it from, Gerty?” said Diana.

  “Yes, who from?”

  Suddenly Dunstan and Diana turned the question into a chant—“Who from? Who from? Who from?”

  Willy’s high-pitched voice joined in, and then, despite himself, Hubert found the words in his own mouth.

  Gerty’s obstinacy slowly disso
lved at the drumming words. “Who from? Who from?” Her plump face reddened and she sobbed. She pushed away Elsa’s attempt to comfort her.

  “Who from? Who from? Who from?”

  “Join in, Jiminee,” Dunstan commanded, flashing the torch at him.

  Jiminee hesitated. “B-but I know who f-from.”

  “What?” Dunstan’s face thrust forward and the torch reflected dazzlingly in his glasses. “Shut up, children. Who gave her the money?”

  Gerty’s sobs grew louder.

  “Come on, Jiminee—out with it!”

  Jiminee shifted his eyes away from the light. “I p-promised I wouldn’t t-t-tell,” he muttered.

  Diana spoke gently. “Mother wants to know, Jiminee.”

  “You don’t want Mother to be angry with you too, do you?” said Dunstan.

  “N-no …”

  “Tell us then.”

  “Well…” Jiminee’s smile ebbed and flowed uneasily.

  “Come on!”

  “Well—it was the g-g-g-”

  Gerty’s sobs rose high. “Sneak!” she wailed. “Sneak—you promised!”

  “Don’t pay any attention, Jiminee,” said Dunstan quickly. “Tell us—tell Mother.”

  Jiminee’s shoulders began to quiver.

  “Sneak!” wailed Gerty again in her last rage of despair—and then her weeping choked her.

  “Mother wants to know, Jiminee,” said Diana.

  Jiminee stared straight at the light. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He pressed his lips tightly together.

  “Come on, Jiminee.”

  “Tell us.”

  His breath burst and, through a rush of tears and stammers, he told them. “It was the g-g-g-garage m-man.”

  The light hovered uncertainly and then settled back on Jiminee. “When did he give it her?”

  “Last week.”

  “Did you see him give Gert the money?”

  “Yes … I mean n-n-no.” Jiminee’s sobs came in hiccups. “She had it when she come out. I know ’cause she showed it to m-m-me. B-but I didn’t really see him g-g-give her the m-m-money.”

  “If you were there, why didn’t you see it?”

  “Well, you see, I stayed in the f-front. The g-garage man said they wouldn’t be long—him and G-Gerty. He said—he’d t-take me for a ride in Halby’s D-Daimler if I didn’t tell.” Jiminee put his head down and clasped his knees as if to stop the hiccups from shaking him to pieces.