Strange, but there were many days when I blessed Harold, for he relieved Nardy’s growing boredom.
Nardy had work sent from the office, but the doing of it didn’t seem to fill his day, not even with the time spent with the therapist, nor yet, I had to admit, his time spent with me. He missed his daily ride or walk to the office, he missed the companionship of all those who worked there. Although from Mr Houseman down, they visited him from time to time, their visits only seemed to leave him more low and depressed. Now and again he expressed the wish to go out and we hired a car and drove into the country. We would get out and walk for a little way or perhaps have dinner at an inn, but lately the journey itself seemed to tire him.
Then one day, there was presented to me a way to alleviate his periods of boredom.
The heath was only five minutes’ walk from the house and, at least once a day, in all weathers, I would take Sandy there to do his ‘necessaries’ and give him a bit of play with a ball.
On this day when I went to put on his lead, he was, as usual, in the kitchen having a game with Harold. They were wrestling on the rug, and when I said, ‘Come along, up with you, you scamp,’ and caught hold of Harold’s arm and pulled him to his feet, he said, ‘You gonna take him out?’
‘Yes.’
‘But him, the caretaker’—he stabbed his finger towards the floor—‘he takes him round the block first thing, don’t he?’
‘Yes, but that’s different; he doesn’t get a run then.’
‘Can I come along o’ you?’
This was a new tactic.
Just at that moment Janet entered the room, a duster in her hand, and her grandson ran towards her, saying, ‘She…Mrs Nardy—’ We were Mr and Mrs Nardy to him now; no clips along the ear could get him to call us anything else. His attempts at Leviston had resulted in verbal gymnastics, so Mr and Mrs Nardy we were. And now he was going on, ‘She says I can go with her to the heath.’
Knowing her grandson better than anyone and, too, noting the expression on my face, Janet looked down on her daily cross, saying, ‘She never said any such thing, did she?’
He stared back at her, silent now, and her reaction was to bring her hand across his ear as she said, ‘I’ve told you about lies. You come out with any more of your smarties an’ it won’t be a clip along the ear you’ll get.’
What made me say it? ‘I asked him, Janet.’
‘You did?’ Her voice was high. I nodded and, looking to where the child was holding his ear, I said to him, ‘Go and get your coat; there’s a wind blowing this morning.’
He didn’t run from the room but walked out slowly.
Turning to Janet, I said, ‘Janet, you know you shouldn’t hit him across the ears like that, you’ll make him deaf.’
‘Oh’—she jerked her chin upwards—‘it’ll take a lot to make that one deaf. I wish I could, and dumb. I thought I would have been rid of him at least for part of the day. I went to the school yesterday afternoon, and what d’you think he said, the teacher? He can’t take him in until September, nearly four months ahead. My God!’ She ran her fingers round the hem of the duster. Then more to herself than to me, she said, ‘If it was only him I had to put up with. Our house is gettin’ like a menagerie. I told you about Joe comin’ back, didn’t I?’ She was looking at me now. ‘Well, last week our Bill turned up, on the dole. Couldn’t pay his board, he said. No, I said to him, that would interfere with your beer money, wouldn’t it? Eeh!’ She shook her head. ‘To think what we lived on when we were first married. They each go through that much every night at the pub, and then they grumble. Then I’m havin’ trouble with the one next door ’cos of the noise, ’cos when they come in three sheets to the wind it’s like hell let loose. I don’t blame her in a way, but now she’s threatening to go to the council, ’cos I’m takin’ in lodgers, she says. You know what, ma’am, I hope she does; it’ll get rid of some of them, ’cos when I tell them to scarper they look at me and say, “Mum, where else can I go, if I can’t come home?” Eeh!’ She glanced towards the door. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t take it out on that little ‘un, but he’s just one more sack on me back.’
‘I’m sorry, Janet, I really am. And then you have all this work to do…’
‘Oh, ma’am, don’t pity me ’cos of that. If I hadn’t this house to come to, I really would go round the bend.’ And now she smiled and nodded at me as she finished, ‘That’s what I said to them last week: if it wasn’t for Mr and Mrs Leviston, I’d take a carving knife one night an’ go round and finish you all off.’
I bit on my lip and said, ‘You didn’t!’
‘I did.’ Her eyes were wide now, her lips were pursed, her head was bobbing. ‘Me very words. And y’know’—her voice became serious—‘you can get to such a pitch you would do anything to sort of clear your mind.’
The kitchen door opened and her grandson stood there. He was holding his hand out and he looked at me as he said, ‘I’ve brought me new cap.’
‘Oh, that is a nice one. I haven’t seen that before. It matches your coat. Put it on.’
He put it on, and I held my head to one side as I said, ‘Oh, you do look smart. Well, we’ll be off, shall we?’ Janet and I exchanged looks; then I took up Sandy’s lead and we went out.
Once we reached the street, I felt my hand gripped, and there we went, like a little family across the road, down past the public garden still railed round and locked, through the suburb and on to the heath.
The wind was blowing, the air was fresh. I took off my head scarf and ran my fingers through my hair, drawing in one deep breath after another. I walked slowly, watching Harold throw the ball and Sandy scampering after it, then bring it back to him.
Harold would yell, ‘Sit!’ and Sandy would obey. Then Harold would throw the ball again. But the procedure was interrupted: Sandy didn’t run after the ball; his head went up, he sniffed, sniffed again, then turning, he looked to where, far away in the distance were the figures of a woman and a dog. They weren’t coming towards us but were walking parallel with us.
One second Sandy was there, the next he was off, and I was yelling, ‘Sandy! Sandy! Stay! Come back!’
Harold made an exclamation which I didn’t catch; then we were both running in the direction Sandy had taken.
We were still some distance away when we saw his meeting up with what I could see now was another poodle, much smaller than he. I saw the woman stoop down and pick up her dog; and then she did what I considered a very kind thing. She came walking in our direction.
My running stopped. I stood panting; then checked Harold, caught his hand and together we walked to where Sandy was alternately running round and jumping up at the woman while barking his head off.
‘Oh, thank you. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s all right.’ The owner of the small black poodle smiled; then looking down on the culprit, she said, ‘He’s a fine fellow, isn’t he? He just wanted to make the acquaintance of…’
Her words were cut off by a statement issuing from the mouth of a little boy who, bending down, now grabbed Sandy’s collar while exclaiming loudly, ‘He’s not a fine fella, he’s a naughty little bugger.’
Our new acquaintance had a refined voice; she looked a refined person altogether. Her gaze remained on the child who had coupled naughty with bugger in one breath. Her eyes met mine; then they covered me from head to foot. She likely noted that I was wearing a well-cut, seemingly expensive fine woollen two-piece. My shoes, too, were smart. I was wearing a gold wristwatch and three rings, two of them heavily stoned. Yet, here was this person, because in the woman’s mind I must have been registered as just a person, whose little boy came out with the word bugger as natural as he had done naughty. Children, and she would know, learn by copying.
‘Good morning.’
My ‘Good morning, and thank you,’ was a mere trickle of a whisper. I felt ashamed and ashamed of feeling ashamed. I wanted to run after her and say, ‘He doesn’t belong to me. He’s the grandson o
f my help.’ Snob. I looked down to where Harold was grinning up at me while holding onto Sandy’s collar. I bent down and clipped on the lead; then, taking Harold’s hand, I led him to a grassy patch and, pressing him down none too gently on to it, I sat down by his side, and as he was about to speak, I heard myself suddenly yell, ‘Shut up!’
My voice even startled Sandy, and Harold’s round eyes narrowed while his mouth widened.
‘Do you know what you said there?’ I demanded.
‘What?’
‘Don’t you “what” me. You know what you said to the dog just a moment ago.’
I watched him think; then he said, ‘I told him he was naughty.’
‘Yes, but you used another word.’
I could see light dawning, and his voice in his usual whisper brought out, ‘Bugger?’
‘Yes, that was the word, bugger. Now, you’ve been told before, haven’t you, that these are bad words, at least for a little boy to use.’ His eyes were blinking, his mouth was closed, and I went on, ‘Now, I’m going to put this straight to you, Harold. I know you’re just turned five, but you are not stupid. In fact, you are far from stupid. You know you’ve been told not to use those words, haven’t you?’
Still there was no response.
‘Well, now I’m going to tell you something: either you stop using those words and at once, or you don’t come to my house any more. Now have you got that?’
Still no response. And now I watched his lower lip begin to tremble; then his mouth opened and he said, in a real whisper this time, ‘Everybody…everybody says ’em. They says ’em. Talks. I…I can’t help it, ’cos…well…’
I turned my head away and looked over the heath. Of course the child couldn’t help it. As I’d thought earlier, everyone learns by copying. What he needed was other words to copy. But he wouldn’t be going to school until September when very likely he’d add to somebody’s vocabulary while extending his own in the same direction. I looked at him again. His lip was still trembling, but I saw that he was being comforted, for there to his side, and looking not much bigger than himself, stood Begonia. Hamilton was present too, but he was some distance away, as if just acting as a spectator. Begonia was nuzzling the fair hair. Then, turning her liquid gaze on me, she said, French. Nardy speaks French like a native, doesn’t he? This child, here, likes words. Haven’t you noticed how he tries to repeat words, bringing in those that he’s heard you or Nardy say? Didn’t he only yesterday cause laughter by trying to repeat secondary? Get Nardy to take him on: half an hour or so in the mornings with, Le livre est sur la table; or, Ouvrez la porte. Fermez la fenêtre. And Nardy would like that, I know he would. You were looking for something different to alleviate his boredom. He enjoys the boy as he is, but just think, if he could extract a foreign language from these small lips instead of crude swear words, what an achievement that would be! He wouldn’t feel so useless. And that’s what’s troubling him at present, he feels useless.
It was the only conversation I had had with Begonia, and when I nodded at her, she went on softly: And you know something more? The child is lost for love. Clips across the ears don’t express affection. He has lost his mother, he has lost his father; he’s in a house full of men who, to put it mildly, are rough types. What is more, and what adds to the rejection of his parents is that the woman his father has taken up with must hate him. From what you have been given to understand, the ultimatum was, either he goes or…She went. Maisie, you have a piece of gold here covered in clay; it’s up to you to strip it until its colour matches your room.
I smiled widely and warmly at Begonia and thanked her for opening my eyes. She said I was welcome. And as she turned away from the child, there was Hamilton. He had come much closer and was waiting for her. He looked at her with pride, then nodded to me, as much as to say, You see, you can’t do without one or the other of us.
The next minute they were blocked from my view. I hadn’t seen the child rise from the grass, but there he was standing in front of me, his face on a level with mine. What really possessed me at that moment I don’t know, perhaps it was the thought of giving Nardy a new interest, anyway; I leant forward and kissed him gently.
I wasn’t prepared for what followed. The next instant his arms were about my neck, and he was kissing me in much the same way as Sandy was wont to do, but with a difference, for he was crying loudly while talking all the time: ‘You let me stay in our ’ouse, Mrs Nardy. I like you, Mrs Nardy. I want to stay with you, Mrs Nardy, an’ Mr Nardy. I won’t swear. I won’t. I love you, Mrs Nardy…’
‘Sh! Sh! Quiet now.’
‘Don’t tell Gag on me, will you? Will you? Don’t tell Gag on me.’
‘Sh! Sh. now! It’s all right. No, I won’t tell Gag. No, I won’t, my dear.’ Good gracious! There I was crying myself now. ‘Come on. Come on.’ I groped for a handkerchief, which was difficult because Sandy, his paws resting on my shoulder, was now licking our faces alternately.
Finding the handkerchief, I wiped the child’s face, then wiped mine.
He was quiet now, but he didn’t leave loose of me; instead he put his arms underneath mine and laid his head on my breast and curled the rest of his body into my lap. I supported him with my short arm while balancing myself with my other by pressing it on to the grass because I was finding it difficult to sit upright. Then I found my body rocking slightly and, as I looked down on his face lying on my breast, I had a strange thought: I had a child…I had a child.
Fifteen
‘What! Teach Childe Harold French when his English is mostly Saxon?’
‘He would hang on to strange words and forget the others, and he’d learn English and grammar as he went along.’
Nardy surveyed me through narrowed eyes. I became embarrassed in the silence, and I couldn’t say to him, I’m thinking it might help you. Then, following on his first response and the look on his face that my suggestion had evoked, he surprised me now by putting his head back and laughing, as he said, ‘You know something, Maisie? God is a funny fella.’
It was my turn to screw up my eyes and say, ‘What?’
‘I said God is a funny fella. Half consciously you appeal to Him…well, in your thinking you say, Show me a way out. Show me how to ease this situation; and when you give up, saying, What’s the good? Let things take their course, I can do nothing more, in through the back door walks the answer.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What you were talking about, teaching Childe Harold French. Anyway, tell me what brought this on. You come bursting in as if you had just drunk the elixir of life.’
So I told him what happened. And he laughed as he said, ‘For once I think the word naughty was linked up with something meaningful because, you know, that word used to irritate me when in the office. Someone would say, ‘It’s very naughty of him,’ when the person being spoken of had probably done something really bad, even criminal. It’s like nice. That annoys me too. I’ve discovered if people are really jealous of a possession or of someone else, they’ll say, it, or he, or she is ve…ry nice.’
The last two words were uttered in a refined squeak. And at this I dropped down to his side, laughing, put my arms about him and said, ‘Oh, Nardy. You know, at times you are very funny, but awfully nice.’
‘I am?’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Well, well.’ He mockingly preened himself, then added, ‘And all without the aid of a horse. But that’s another word, awfully. How can anyone be awfully nice?’
I gave him a push, and as I rose I said, ‘One thing I’ve learned about you, you’re secretly conceited about your knowledge of English. Anyway, I’m off now to tell Janet you are about to take on her very small rough diamond and polish it, with the result that every one of his family will want to claim acquaintance with him, he being the only one who can speak a foreign language.’
I stopped when I reached the door and, looking back at him, I said, ‘You know, there’s some truth in that, is
n’t there? If that boy ever did turn out to be educationally superior to them all, they would be the first to claim acquaintance with him, and recall the fun they’d had with him when he was a child. Even Janet would bring back the times she had almost deafened him with her hand across his ear.’
Nardy nodded at me. ‘Wise old owl,’ he said. ‘But I think you had better tell Janet to sit down before you give her the news.’
Nardy was right. Janet looked at me across the kitchen table as if she were thinking that what some people thought about me was actually true. And in a small voice, she said, ‘French?’
‘Yes, French.’
‘Teach him French?’ Her voice still small, she was thumbing to where Harold was lying on the rug, his arms around Sandy. They were facing each other and they presented an angelic picture. And I looked down on them for a moment, then I said, ‘He’ll pick it up, and quickly.’
‘Huh, ma’am! You mean to say that Mr Leonard is for this?’
‘Yes, wholeheartedly.’
She turned from the table and went to the oven; bending down, she opened the door and lifted out a casserole dish. Placing it on the table, she said, ‘Well, never again will I say, nothin’ surprises me. But just wait till I tell my lot about this. That’ll crease them; they won’t straighten up for days.’
‘Well, we’ll see. But whenever Harold is in this house, the notice will go up, Ici on parle français.’
‘What?’ She was half smiling, her face screwed up now.
‘I said, French is spoken here.’
‘Oh, Mrs Leviston, ma’am.’ She suddenly sat down on the chair, put her elbows on the table, cupped her face in her hands and, from the look on it, I didn’t know whether she was about to laugh or cry. But the remark from her grandson tilted the balance.
Harold was now lying on his back, aiming to push away Sandy’s licking tongue from his face, and our future French student said, ‘Stop it,you silly sod!’
Goodbye Hamilton Page 20