I didn’t laugh because her words conveyed to me the sadness and futility of some people’s lives. Yet, between them, she and her husband had produced eight individual people, and they in their turn were producing more. Strange, the source of the population, when you came to think about it.
Nardy came into the kitchen now, saying, ‘What was all that heeing and hawing about? Have I missed something?’
‘Not much, Mr Leonard,’ Janet said, smiling at him; ‘we’re just laughin’ at life, sort of. Oh, and by the way’—she looked from one to the other of us now—‘thanks very much for me envelope. That was very kind of you, more than kind. I’m goin’ to give meself a real treat and buy a thick coat to go with these boots.’
‘Well, see that you do, and don’t spend it on that family of yours.’
She nodded at Nardy now, saying, ‘I can assure you, Mr Leonard, I’ve spent me last on that lot. No, it’s a coat that I’m goin’ to have an’ keep it for best.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Nardy, wagging his finger at her now; ‘you’ll wear it in the winter, weekdays and Sundays alike. It’s a wonder you haven’t caught pneumonia over the years.’
‘Funny that.’ She looked at me now. ‘I never seem to catch cold, everything else but not cold. Well, I’ll away, and I’ll pop over every day and see to things. And if you’ll drop me a line to let me know when to expect you, I’ll have the house all warm and a meal ready.’
‘Thank you, Janet. I’ll do that.’
After Janet had left, Nardy brought the cases from the bedroom, and I put on Sandy’s coat. As I strapped it underneath his tummy I talked to him, saying, ‘Oh, you are a lovely boy,’ and he licked my face and made that murmuring sound that was really like a human being mumbling.
When Nardy helped me into my fur coat he pulled the collar up around my face, kissed me, then said, ‘You look marvellous.’
‘Oh, Nardy.’ I shook my head. It never made me feel good when he paid me such compliments. The clothes might look marvellous, but I knew that I myself could never lay claim to that description. Yet, a moment later when I pulled on my small hat, picked up Sandy and happened to look in the hall mirror, once again I could hardly believe what I saw. Such was the magic of clothes.
Sandy’s whiteness stood out against the dark brown of the fur, and he was the one I thought looked marvellous, with his pompom head and moustaches and chin beard, and his long beautiful silken ears. There are poodles and poodles, but I’ve never seen one as beautiful as my Sandy.
Nardy looked at his watch, then said, ‘By the time we get downstairs the taxi should be there. I hope Tommy arrives on time, that’s if he’s been able to make his escape.’
We needn’t have worried. Tommy was at the station and was delighted to be coming with us. Nardy had booked three first-class seats and we laughed and talked during most of the journey. It was only during lunch that Tommy gave any indication of what Christmas had been like. When Nardy said, ‘How did you leave your mother? Does she know you’re coming north?’ it was some seconds before he answered, saying as he looked from one to the other of us, ‘Do me a favour, will you, my good friends? Don’t mention my home to me during the next couple of days or the time, however long, I’m to spend with you. I want to forget that there is such a place as Seventeen The Crescent.’
A slightly awkward silence followed; then we resumed our ordinary chat. And back in the compartment Tommy became quite amusing and surprisingly entertaining. Apparently, he was a great reader of poetry and could quote appropriate lines to fit any topic of conversation …
It was the middle of the afternoon when the train passed through Durham, and I had the strange and unusual feeling that I was home.
When we ran into Newcastle and the train ground to a halt and Nardy helped me down onto the platform, I put my head back and sniffed the air. And we all laughed as Sandy, who was in my arms, gave two short barks, and Tommy said, ‘He’s hooting for Newcastle.’
We were at the far end of the platform and our way to the barrier was momentarily blocked by some dignitary who had just alighted and was posing for a photographer.
By the time this little business was completed the platform was almost cleared. I was walking between the two men when I saw the lady reporter, as I thought of her, look back along the platform and point. Then she was hurrying towards us. Stopping dead in front of me, she said, ‘Miss Carter?’
At this point, Nardy’s voice checked her, saying stiffly, ‘Mrs Leviston.’
‘Oh, yes, sir. I’m sorry, but I was thinking…well, of her pseudonym, writing, the book you know.’ She nodded now and, again looking at me, she said, ‘Have you come back for the holiday?’
‘Yes, just for a few days.’
She was walking sideways now as we moved on and she said, ‘You’re looking very well, Mrs Leviston. And what a lovely poodle.’
‘Yes, he is, isn’t he. His name is Sandy.’ I could afford to be pleasant, I was so happy. I felt her eyes travelling over my coat and knew naturally she would be thinking that’s what a book does for you, whereas she herself was working for what she’d likely considered a mere pittance.
‘Would you mind?’ It was the photographer now, his camera held shoulder high. I glanced at Nardy and he smiled. I smiled too, held Sandy a little further up in my arms, bringing his face level with mine. There were a number of clicks and the photographer said, ‘Thank you very much. That’ll be grand. A happy New Year to you.’ The journalist now added her voice to his saying, ‘Yes, a happy New Year to you.’ And we all answered, ‘The same to you. The same to you.’
A minute or so later as Tommy helped me into the taxi and Nardy saw to the porter, I thought wryly, such is fame, for less than a couple of years ago I could have walked down that platform and caused less stir than a stray dog, a small grey creature, indistinguishable from the nonentities of life.
When, twenty minutes later and after a number of traffic hold-ups, the taxi drew up outside the terraced house where I was born and had lived until a few months ago, the front door opened before we had time to emerge, and there was George running down the steps, the children after him, and Gran and Mary standing in the doorway.
‘Oh, it’s lovely to see you, lass.’ I was smothered against the broad chest and enlarging stomach of George, then held at arm’s length as he said, ‘In the name of God! What’s that you’re holdin’?’
Sandy answered with a bark; he didn’t like being squeezed. And, too, at that moment Gran’s voice bellowed from the door, ‘Let her in, you big noodle; she’ll be froze out there.’
I was almost carried into the hall, and here pandemonium reigned for at least five minutes, with Sandy jumping from one child to another, and the questions bouncing off my head, and hands being shaken, and Tommy being welcomed, and Gran and Mary, and the two girls Betty and Kitty oohing and aahing over my fur coat.
It seemed an age before we were settled in the sitting room and the children shooed into the kitchen.
From the couch opposite the roaring fire I looked around the room. It was different. Still comfortable, but different, and smaller somehow. Yet it had always seemed a big room, having originally been two rooms. It was this room that had attracted Howard Stickle and his sister to the house and formed the basis of their design.
My reminiscing was swept away by Gran declaring. ‘How’ve you done it? You’re different.’ Then looking at Nardy, she said, ‘What’ve you done to her? She’s not our Maisie any more; she’s a stylish piece.’
At this I preened myself and, putting on a haughty tone, I said, ‘One rises in the world, Mrs Carter. Remember to whom you are talking.’
‘I’ll remember’—she pushed her arm out towards me—‘with me foot up your a…’ She swallowed deeply; then on a choked laugh she said, ‘Backside.’
Looking at Mary now, who had so far remained quiet, probably, I thought, because she was of a quiet nature and was probably, too, dominated by Gran who was inclined to rule the roo
st, I said, ‘How do you put up with the pair of them, Mary? It must be very trying.’ And I shook my head in sympathy while she smiled understandingly.
And George, taking up Gran’s point, looked at his mother and, nodding, said, ‘You’re right, Mam, you’re right; she not the same. Got the mistress touch about her, unsettlin’ our staff now, she is.’
At this, Nardy said in a serious tone, ‘It is a bad habit she has acquired, George. She’s done the same in my household, bringing everything down to one level.’
I sat straight-faced for a moment; then reached out my hand to where Tommy had been sitting quietly at the end of the couch and said, ‘Will you be my friend, Tommy?’ And he, gripping my hand, answered softly, ‘For life, Maisie, for life. When you find you can’t stand any more, you just come to me.’
I nearly said, ‘And your mother,’ and threw my head up and choked with my inward laughter.
The phone rang and Mary went to answer it. She was back within a minute or so, saying, ‘It’s the doctor. He wanted to know if you’d arrived. He’ll be around after surgery.’
‘Oh, it’ll be lovely seeing him again,’ I said. ‘And you know what? I’m going to try and persuade him to take up a practice in London.’ And laughing now at the memory, I told them of my experiences with the bouncing doctor and of his opinion of Hamilton’s author.
‘Insolent bugger!’ said George.
It was two hours later when Mike arrived. There he was at the door, those clinical but kindly eyes peering out from the bush of hair around his face, his arms stretched out towards me, and I actually ran into them.
‘Oh, it’s good to see you.’ There were tears in my eyes and tears in my voice, and I knew at this moment that he was another person that I loved, for he knew more about me than did anybody else in this room, yes, even Nardy.
‘You look marvellous.’ He was holding me at arm’s length. ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘It’s the dress. It was very expensive.’
‘Nonsense.’ He twisted me about, put his arm around my shoulder and led me back into the sitting room and into the babble of voices. I cannot recall what we talked about, only that the conversation was jocular and general; and it wasn’t until an hour later that Gran said to him, ‘Will you stay and have a bite, Doctor?’ But he rose to his feet, saying, ‘No; thanks all the same, I’ve got to get back. Anyway, I’m on call, but I’ll be seeing you all. I’ll come and be your first foot.’
‘That’s the idea,’ I said: ‘a dark hairy man.’
‘Watch it, horse dealer!’ he said and slapped me gently on the cheek. Then arm in arm we went from the room, and in the comparative quiet of the hall, he looked at me and said, ‘All right?’
‘Fine. Wonderful.’
‘I’m so glad. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mike; yes, I know that.’—It was only on very rare occasions that I used his Christian name—‘The only dim light on my horizon is that you and the family seem so far away at times.’
‘You don’t like living in London?’
‘I don’t dislike it, but I only like it because Nardy’s there.’
‘By the way,’ he now said, his tone becoming professional; ‘referring to the story of your doctor that you described so vividly. Apart from his stinking opinion of your ability, his diagnosis was likely right, and I think I should have a look at you. Have you had any more twinges?’
‘One or two, but nothing to speak of.’
‘Come, come. Have you had any real pain there?’
I looked away from him for a moment and said, ‘Yes, the day before yesterday. But I wanted to come up here so I didn’t mention it to Nardy.’
‘Well now, look’—he dug me in the chest with his finger—‘the first real twinge, and I mean real twinge, you have, get on that phone.’
‘Very well, Doctor Kane. But I’m not going to have any real twinges until this holiday is over. Above everything else, I want Tommy to enjoy himself. I must tell you about him and his mother sometime. I had an afternoon with her that really beat that doctor.’
‘No.’
‘Yes. I think he’s ready for jumping off somewhere. She’s a real case.’
The kitchen door opened now and Sandy came pelting into the hall and, with one swoop, jumped into my arms; and the doctor patted his head, saying, ‘My! He is a good-looking gent, isn’t he? I heard you’d an addition to the family. I like poodles. I’ve never understood why they call them pets because they’re the most intelligent of dogs. Oh, you are a fine fellow.’
Sandy leant forward and licked the hairy chin, eliciting from Mike the retort, ‘Give over, man. Give over. Sloppy individual.’ Then pressing my shoulder, he added, ‘I’ll be away. Take care now. I’ll be seeing you soon.’
‘Bye-bye.’
I opened the door and waited until he had run down the steps and was in his car; then I waved to him. When I turned into the hall again, Mary was ushering the children from upstairs kitchenwards, saying, ‘Now, make the most of it, because that’s your tea and supper combined. Then to your rooms with you.’ And now looking towards me, she said, ‘It’s all ready in the dining room, I’m bringing it in. Will you tell them?’
I told them, and we all sat down to a meal which in a way was like the children’s, a combination of tea and supper, but one which we all thoroughly enjoyed.
New Year’s Eve, the house was filled with bustle: Mary and Gran cooking, the children running errands, George stocking up with liquid refreshment; and when Tommy expressed a wish to go out shopping Nardy took him into Newcastle, and they returned with their arms full of fancy boxes of sweets, chocolates, pastries, and bunches of flowers. It was Tommy’s way of saying thank you.
As was usual, for the welcoming of the New Year in the real North Country style, the dining room table, sideboard, and every available space, was laden with food and drink. But around eleven o’clock when everybody was changing their clothes as if for a ceremony, I found myself alone in the drawing room with Tommy. We were sitting on the couch and he was bending forward towards the roaring fire, his elbows on his knees, his joined hands hanging between them. ‘You know something, Maisie?’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed and so at home in my life as I have done since I arrived here yesterday. I know everybody is in festive mood and out to see a good time is had by all, but it isn’t just that, it’s…well, I felt it when I came up for your wedding. Mainly, I suppose, it’s George and Gran. They have something.’ He turned his head and glanced at me, then asked, ‘What is it?’
I thought for a moment before saying, ‘I suppose it’s because they want so little out of life, Tommy: a good fire, a cupboard full of food, a drink, a meet-up at the local at the weekend. That’s their life. As long as they’ve got the necessities of it and a little bit extra now and again, something to look forward to, they’re happy. They’re free from ambition. I think that’s where the happiness lies, because you know, Tommy, once you start to allow your thinking to move away from that which is necessary to carry you through the ordinary day, happiness, such as theirs, is impossible.’
‘But you’re happy.’ He straightened himself up and faced me.
‘Yes, I am, very happy, Tommy. But it’s an offshoot; it doesn’t seem permanent, and I’m daily afraid of losing the feeling. I can’t get it as yet to mix with the mainstream of my thinking which for years was governed by fear, fear of my mother, then of Stickle. Life with Nardy has not really got through to me yet. I might as well tell you that I wake up at nights in a sweat, fearing that something will happen and I shall find myself back to where I once was, consumed with fear and hate. Hate’s a dreadful thing, Tommy. It eats you up.’
I was sorry I had made that last remark, for he turned from me and looked into the fire again and, his voice a mutter, he said, ‘You’re telling me. I’ve never loved my mother. I feared her, too, when I was young. The fear is still with me but in a different way. Do you know something, Maisie?’ H
e swung round again and leaned towards me and, his voice just above a whisper, he said, ‘For a long time now I’ve wished her dead, but of late I’ve been terrified of what I might do to her if I was forced to spend another full weekend with her. Do you know where I went on that missing weekend?’
I shook my head.
‘I went down to Brighton. I booked an hotel room, and, like a bloody fool, I stayed mostly in it, except for a walk along the promenade. I think the proprietor expected to find I’d hanged myself or taken an overdose. He seemed glad to see me go on the Monday morning.’
‘Oh, Tommy. Why didn’t you come to us?’
He straightened up; gave a short, sharp laugh, and said, ‘Bella told me that Mother thought I was with you and Nardy and that she was for coming round; but then, if she had, it would have proved that she wasn’t as bad on her feet as she makes out to be in order to be waited on hand and foot.’
‘Why haven’t you married and got away?’
He lay back in the corner of the couch, saying now, ‘I was in love with a girl in the office and she with me. But she was frank: she said, she just couldn’t stand Mother, and in those days, it meant we would have had to live at home. It was about the time she was deciding to be a semi-invalid. And then later on, I was engaged to another girl when dear Mama had a heart attack. But when that didn’t part Evelyn and me, something else did, something I never understood for years: Evelyn went off to South Africa quite suddenly; she married her cousin out there. It was like a story in a novelette: she sent the ring back in a letter, saying she was so sorry but she found it was a mistake. I saw her again about six years ago. She had come back on a holiday—her parents lived not far away—she was still married and had three children, but wasn’t very happy. And she told me then why she had gone off like that: Mother had insinuated that there was some kind of lunacy on my father’s side and that I had spasms every now and again.’
Goodbye Hamilton Page 6