Nardy had turned one of the rooms at the end of the corridor into a study and sitting room for me. In it I had a desk for my typewriter and plenty of space for books. But I often found it difficult to work there, and I would find myself sitting in the corner of the comfortable couch, going over what had happened yesterday or thinking about what was going to happen tonight when we’d be doing a show or a concert or accepting the invitations of Nardy’s friends.
I considered he had a lot of friends, but he maintained he had three friends and a lot of acquaintances. Heading the three friends was Tommy Balfour who had been his best man. Tommy was publicity manager in the publishing house of Houseman and Rington where Nardy was editorial director. I had come to know Tommy well over the past weeks and, in a way, I felt sorry for him, because of what Nardy had told me about his mother. I’d met her only once and that was in the company of others, but I’d likely know more about her tomorrow because I was having tea with her. Then there was Alice and Andrew Freeman. Nardy had gone to school with Andrew; they were lifelong friends and I liked them, but only up to a point: I couldn’t feel at home with them.
Since my marriage my appearance had worried me less and less. I had acquired something, but I can’t find a name to put to it. It wasn’t just confidence, for my mirror showed me the same face unfortunately as it had done all through the years, except that now it looked happy. And I was happy. I had never imagined such happiness. Every day I found something or someone to laugh at, and not least, Janet, Nardy’s housekeeper, once nursemaid to him, and now maid-of-all-work.
Mrs Janet Flood, to give her her correct title, was the first person to bring Hamilton back into my life, and of course Begonia with him.
I don’t think Janet was over-happy with the situation when I first took up my position as mistress of the house, for she had seen to ‘her Mr Leonard’ for years. On her half-day visits she had her own method of cleaning, and she made this very evident to the new wife; and also, she had her special times for stopping and having her cuppa.
It was during one of her cuppas that I broke through the ‘Good morning, Mrs Leviston,’ or the ‘Good morning, Mrs Leviston, ma’am,’ or simply, ‘Good morning, ma’am.’ (It was as ‘Mrs Leviston, ma’am’ that she was usually to address me for all our subsequent years together.) But on this particular morning, knowing it was the time for her cuppa, I ventured into the kitchen and said, tentatively, ‘Janet, do you mind if I join you? I feel a bit lost.’
Metaphorically speaking, it was from that moment she took me to her bosom like a long-lost daughter. And for days afterwards I regaled Nardy with titbits about her family life that he had never heard before. But it was on that first morning that Hamilton galloped around the kitchen, and he was on his own. When I told him to let up, he pulled out a chair and sat next to Janet, nodding at her every word.
But the morning she gave me a run down on her family, Hamilton got up to such antics that I had a fit of coughing to cover my mirth. She had been sympathising with me losing my baby, then had ended, ‘But God has funny ways of working, for if your child had grown up to be like that man, you would sometime or other have tried to do him in an’ all.’ My mouth had fallen slightly agape at this, and I was about to tell her that I hadn’t intentionally tried to do my husband in, when I saw Hamilton sitting in the corner on his haunches and hugging himself with delight. Then Janet was saying, ‘People long for kids but if they only knew what was in store for them, not for the kids, but for them. Eight of them I’ve had, as you know, and there’s our Max, Billy and Joe, all divorced, the three eldest all divorced. Then our Maggie left her husband for another man and her three youngsters don’t know which end of them’s up, if you follow me. And what’s gona happen to young ’Arry or ’Arold, as he insists on being called, God only knows, for he’s a livin’ terror. Only three and a half, and he’s completely out of hand. But then can you blame him, poor little fella, because his dad’s new piece hates his guts. Then there’s our Hilda, she’s single, at least in name ’cos she’s going round with this fella in a band, with his hair standin’ up straight as if he’d just got an electric shock. Then there’s our Greg, Rodney, and May, they’re still at home, ’cos they know where they’re well off. Their dad’s told them more than once to get the hell…well, to get out of it, ’cos they’re livin’ rent free. What they’re payin’ for their keep wouldn’t cover one decent meal outside. But they know when they’re on a good thing. They’ve got it both ways: Greg and Rodney have got their beer and broads outside, an’ May’s got her so-called boyfriend. I tell you, Mrs Leviston, ma’am, shed no tears about not havin’ a family. I had it all taken away after May was born, ’cos he said he wouldn’t mind havin’ a baker’s dozen. I remember the night when he said that. I came back at him, in poetry like, sayin’, “If that’s what you want, Henry Flood, put yourself out to stud.”’
And she leant back in the chair, her face wide with laughter, her hand tight across her mouth. I too was laughing my loudest, not only at Mrs Janet Flood, but at Hamilton, who was almost standing on his head, so doubled up was he with his mirth. But Begonia wasn’t laughing, she too was bending forward, simply, apparently, to find out why her mate had taken up such a ridiculous position.
Begonia, I had found, hadn’t a keen sense of humour. I remember putting this to Hamilton after I’d left the kitchen that morning and knowing that Janet and I had reached an understanding. And he replied, No, you’re right, she hasn’t as yet our sense of humour. But then she’s only a two-year-old. But what she has got is a deep sense of compassion. If ever you were in trouble, you could lay your head upon her shoulder. I laughed, but noticed that he hadn’t joined me; in fact, he had assumed an attitude of dignity and turned away.
But this evening I was attending the fire in the drawing room when I heard Nardy’s key in the lock, and as I scrambled to my feet and just missed knocking the tea trolley over, I heard him say, ‘Wait there a moment,’ and I stopped in my tracks. He had brought someone home with him. Oh, dear, dear; this was the time of day I had come to love, when we had tea together and talked over the doings of the day. But who was it that he could say to, ‘Wait there a moment.’ That wasn’t very polite, especially coming from Nardy, who was a gentleman of gentlemen where courtesy was concerned.
He entered the room, closed the door behind him, came quickly towards me, took me in his arms and kissed me; then, holding me at arm’s length, he said, ‘I’ve brought someone to see you.’
‘Yes?’ I nodded at him, then whispered, ‘But why leave them out in the hall?’
‘Oh, he understands.’
‘He?’
‘Yes. Come and sit down a minute.’
He led me back to the couch and, taking my hands, he said, ‘I often think it must be lonely for you here during the day after Janet has gone, and if you had a companion…’
‘A companion?’ I put in quickly. ‘What kind of a companion?’
‘Oh.’ He put his head on one side and squinted his eyes towards the ceiling as he said, ‘A little boy.’
‘A little boy!’ The words came out of the top of my head. I didn’t want any little boy…or a little girl. I’d given up the idea of children long ago. I liked George’s children, but only for short periods at a time.
‘Oh, Nardy.’ My voice was a whimper now. ‘How old is he?’ I asked, for there was flashing through my mind the thought that it must be Janet’s ’Arold.
‘Just on two.’
‘What!’ There it was again, that ‘what’ that had so annoyed Doctor Kane for years, but surely I could be excused and be allowed to show my amazement; and I was amazed that Nardy could plonk a two-year-old on me.
‘Where…where are his parents? I mean…‘
He shook his hands up and down. ‘They’ve had to go abroad; he’s going to work in Canada, and they were going to put him into…well, a sort of home, but when I saw him I thought immediately that you would love him.’
I withdrew my hands from his s
aying, ‘His parents were going to put him to a sort of home? What kind of parents are they?’
‘Well, as far as I can gather they are pretty high class. There’s blue blood there. Look, stay there; I’ll let you judge for yourself.’
He hurried from the room. I heard him talking again. I sat now with my hands tight between my knees telling myself that I had been a fool to hope that this way of life could go on indefinitely.
When the door opened again I slowly raised my head, then my mouth fell into a gape, and as Nardy came towards me carrying the two-year-old in his arms I got to my feet and cried, ‘Oh, you! You awful man,’ for there he was holding a beautiful white poodle.
Now I have never considered poodles to be dogs. And as for my choosing a poodle after having a bull-terrier for years, well, that was chalk after cheese indeed. But this fellow I saw wasn’t one of those tiny things with bows on them, or the big ones cut into fantastic shapes. Yet he was big for a poodle.
His face was within two hands’ distance from me now and he began to murmur, or was it grunt? And at this Nardy said, ‘He can talk. Proctor from the packing room who owned him says he’s got a language all his own. His wife was heartbroken at having to leave him.’
‘What do they call him?’
‘Sandy.’
‘Sandy? And him pure white! Hello, Sandy.’
I wasn’t prepared for the tongue that covered my face from my chin to my eyebrows, or the two feet that came out, and the next moment he had one front leg round my neck and the two back were resting on my hand as if it was a chair. It seemed such a natural position for him. His nose now was almost touching mine, and again he gave me the benefit of a free wash.
‘Oh, Nardy, he’s lovely.’
‘I thought you would like him. I saw him last week but I didn’t say anything just in case they pulled out from going at the last moment. Proctor’s wife really was in a state. They looked upon him as their child. They’d had him since he was six weeks old. To make the break Proctor brought him to the packing room over a week ago. That’s where I really came across him. Of course everybody wanted to take him, but Proctor went into each one’s background as if he were head of an adoption society. It became a bit of a joke. When I put my name forward, the first thing he asked was, “Have you ever had a dog?” And I had to be truthful and say, no, but that my wife was well acquainted with dogs. And the deed was done. Poor fellow.’ He now patted Sandy’s head. ‘He grieved terribly at first, howled all night, the caretaker said. He used to sleep in Proctor’s bedroom, sometimes on the bed. What do you think about that?’
‘I like it. Oh’—I put out my free hand—‘thank you, Nardy. Oh, thank you. But you know, you gave me a shock. I thought it was a boy you were bringing in.’
‘A boy? A nipper? Oh, my goodness, no. I don’t think I could stand a child, not now. All right for a time to have a romp with, but too much of a responsibility. No, I think we’ll plump for Sandy.’
And so Sandy became, not just my companion, but our companion. Right from the beginning he was a strange dog. He did have a language of his own and an independent spirit. He didn’t like closed doors, and he scratched them, or tried to rattle the knobs until the doors opened. He jumped up at all newcomers and barked in greeting. He did not like sleeping on the floor but chose the best chairs, on which he would proceed to arrange the cushions to please himself. Above all, he never seemed to be content until we were both together, when he would sit on one lap and put his head on the other. And he loved to be held in our joined arms when he would lick first one face and then the other. And he seemed as wise as Hamilton, for he came to know my moods and to act accordingly.
I had said to Hamilton, ‘Well, what do you think of the new addition?’ He had pursed his lips. Well, he said, he’ll never be another Bill, but he’s all right in his own right, so to speak. And I repeated, ‘So to speak.’
Christmas was upon us, our first Christmas together. Looking back over the year, it had been an eventful one. I had gone through a traumatic court case; I had become the author of a best-seller; I had filled the headlines of the newspapers for a few days, at least those in the north-east end of the country; I’d had a wonderful cruise with a wonderful man; I’d had a lovely wedding; now, I was firmly settled down and life was like a fairy tale, one that I had never read or even imagined. And here we were, sitting in front of the fire, Sandy stretched between us, discussing the holidays ahead.
‘I had a letter from George this morning,’ I said; ‘a bit longer than the “It leaves me at present” one.’ I laughed. ‘He says, how about us going up for New Year.’
‘Fine, yes. Oh, I’d love that. A New Year in the north, yes.’
‘All right, I’ll write and tell him.’
‘You know what?’ said Nardy now. ‘I’d love Tommy to meet George and the family; really meet them, stay for a day or two. I get worried about him at times. That mother of his will be the finish of him. You haven’t forgotten we’re due there on Saturday, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t forgotten. But from what I’ve already glimpsed of her I’m not looking forward to our meeting. Anyway’—I laid my head upon his shoulder—‘I might find her bark worse than her bite. I’ll leave it to Hamilton to decide.’
Nardy chuckled; then said, ‘How’s he these days anyway? It’s weeks since you mentioned him.’
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ I said musingly. ‘I think he’s deserted me for his new love.’
‘Well, you had better not let him get away altogether. Sales were down last month. Not on yours, fortunately, but we need another best-seller, so get going, woman. That horse has got to earn his keep.’
I looked around for Hamilton but he was nowhere in sight.
The following morning Nardy wakened me with a cup of tea, and, seeing him already dressed for the office, I sat bolt upright, saying. ‘What time is it?’
‘About twenty to nine.’
‘Why did you let me sleep all this time?’
‘Why not? You haven’t to go out into the bleak morning and it is a bleak morning, it’s sleeting—and earn your living like I have. No, you can stay at home and make a pile by just scribbling on pieces of paper.’
He had put down the cup on the bedside table and now had my face between his hands and was kissing me. I put my arms around his neck and said, ‘I’ll work my fingers to the bone for you until the day I die.’
A few minutes later, when he came in to say goodbye to me, he whispered, ‘Janet’s come. She said I’ll get wringing. She’s soaked through. She’s a fool of a woman; she won’t take the bus all the way. Practice of a lifetime, I suppose, still saving the pennies. She has no need now, but there it is, habit.’ He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, saying, ‘And you know something, Mrs Leviston. I’m getting into the habit of not wanting to go to work in the morning; I’d much rather stay here with you. You know, there’s not a thing to laugh about in that office.’
‘And there is here?’
‘Oh, yes, yes. I’ve just got to look at you, my dear, and I want to giggle.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr Leviston, but I don’t take that as a compliment.’
‘You should, my dear, you should; people who can make others laugh without trying should be given special honours, say—’ He thought for a moment, then he went on, ‘DOB.’
‘What’s DOB?’
‘Dispeller of Blues.’
‘Oh! Nardy; if I’m capable of doing only that for you, then I’m happy.’
‘You’re capable of doing a lot more than that for me, my dear.’ He held me tightly for a moment, then kissed me gently, and went out.
And once more I lay back on my pillows and wondered at my good fortune. And being me, I thought, it’s too good to last.
I was on the point of getting up when Janet came into the room, saying without any preamble, ‘And that’s where you want to stay today. I’m a bit late. That little beggar ’Arry. His dad landed him on me last night; his new pi
ece can’t put up with him. And you know something? Neither can I. He’d drive anybody up the wall. You’d think he was plugged in for the sparks seem to fly off him, he’s so alive. I had to give him a beltin’ before I could get out.’
‘Why don’t you take the bus right to the corner, Janet?’
‘What! And pay double for those three stops? Oh’—she now came quickly towards me—‘What is it, Mrs Leviston?’
I had suddenly felt a severe pain in my left side, and it wasn’t the first time I’d experienced it of late. ‘I keep getting a pain in my side,’ I said.
‘Appendix?’
‘No; it’s on the left side, the appendix is on the right.’
‘Aye, yes, that’s what they say. What can it be then? Perhaps it’s wind.’
I wanted to laugh and say, Could be your cabbage, for she wasn’t a good hand at cooking greens. Instead I said, ‘Yes, very likely.’
‘Look, you stay where you are, I’ll get you a hot-water bottle and some hot milk.’
By the time she had brought the hot-water bottle and the hot milk the pain had gone entirely. And after thanking her, I smiled and said, ‘I’m a bit of a fraud; I can’t feel anything now even when I press the part.’ And I demonstrated by pressing on my nightdress.
‘Could just be wind then.’
‘Yes, yes, I think so.’
It was about half an hour later, I should say, when I shouted, ‘Janet! Janet!’ And when she rushed in she found me again doubled up, but in the middle of the bed this time.
Goodbye Hamilton Page 3