Hatter's Castle

by A. J. Cronin

  On this, the day following her son’s return, when she had glowingly anticipated content and the mitigation of her worries, she found herself sunk more deeply into the well of her dejection. Dinner passed and the afternoon proceeded eventlessly towards evening. Amidst the trouble of her thoughts the fall of dusk and the fading of the short grey twilight made her wish poignantly to see him. Only let them be alone together, the mother and the son, and she felt she would soften any hardness in his heart. He could not she was convinced, withstand the entreaty of her affection; he would be at her feet in penitence and remorse if only she could express to him in words the love that was in her heart. But still he did not appear and, when the clock struck the half hour after five and he did not come in for tea, she was immeasurably distressed.

  ‘I suppose that braw mannie o’ yours is ower feared to come in,’ Brodie sneered at her as she handed him his tea. ‘He’s deliberately avoidin’ me – skulkin’ outside there until I’ve gane out again. Then he’ll come sneakin’ in for your sympathy and consolation. Don’t think I don’t see through it all, although it’s behind my back.’

  ‘No, indeed, father,’ she quavered, ‘I assure ye there’s nothing to keep from ye. Matt has just gone out to look up some o’ his friends.’

  ‘Is that so, now?’ he answered. ‘I didna ken he had any friends, but from what you make out he must be the popular hero right enough! Well, tell your model son, when ye see him, that I’m savin’ up a’ that I’ve got to say until I meet him next. I’ll keep it hot for him.’

  She made no reply, but served him with his meal, and when he went out set herself again to wait.

  At seven o’clock, about an hour after Brodie had left the house, Matthew did, indeed, return. He came in quietly with a slight indication upon his face of the old downcast expression of his youth, sidled into the room and, looking at Mamma ingratiatingly, said in a soft voice:

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Mamma dear. I hope I haven’t put you about?’

  She looked at him eagerly.

  ‘I have worried about you, Matt! I didn’t know where you had gone!’

  ‘I know,’ he replied in a subdued voice. ‘It was downright thoughtless of me. I don’t think I have quite got used to being here. I may have got a little careless since I’ve been away, Mamma, but I’ll make up for it to you.’

  ‘It’s not like you to be careless,’ she cried, ‘except to yourself, going without your food like this. Have you had your tea?’

  ‘No,’ he replied, ‘I haven’t, but I’m real hungry now, though. Have you something for me to eat?’

  She was touched, convinced, despite her day of despondency, that this was her own son again who had sloughed off the skin of his wicked Indian experiences.

  ‘Matt!’ she said earnestly, ‘ you ought to know better than ask. Your supper is in the oven this very minute.’ She ran to the oven and produced, impressively, for his inspection a thick cut of findon haddock cooked in milk, a dish of which he had been particularly fond in the past. ‘Wait just half a minute,’ she cried, ‘and I’ll be ready for you.’

  Grandma Brodie had gone up to her room but Nessie was occupying the table with her homework. Nevertheless, in a few moments. Mamma had spread a white cloth upon half of the table and had covered it with every requisite of an appetising meal.

  ‘There, now,’ she said, ‘I told ye I wouldn’t be long. There’s no one can do a thing for ye like your own mother. Sit in, Matt, and let us see what you can do.’

  He rolled his eyes up at her gratefully and bowed his head.

  ‘Oh! Mamma, you’re too kind to me! I don’t deserve it. It’s like heaping coals of fire on my head after the way I’ve gone on. It does look good though, doesn’t it?’

  She nodded her head happily, watching him eagerly as he drew in his chair, sat down, and began to eat with large, quick mouthfuls. ‘Poor boy, he must have been starving,’ she thought, as the succulent white flakes of the fish melted magically under the soft, relentless attack of his knife and fork. Nessie, sucking the stump of a pencil at the other end of the table, watched him over the edge of her book with a different emotion.

  ‘Some folks are luckier than others,’ she remarked enviously. ‘We didn’t get finnan haddie to-night’

  Matt looked at her with a wounded expression, then placed the last large piece of fish carefully in his mouth.

  ‘If I had known. Nessie,’ he expostulated, ‘ I would have offered you some. Why did you not speak before?’

  ‘Don’t be so selfish, girl,’ cried Mamma sharply. ‘You’ve had enough and plenty, and you know it. Your brother needs some decent food now. He’s had a hard time lately. You get on with your lessons. Here, Matt – try some of these oatcakes.’

  Matt thanked her with a warm, upward look and continued to eat. At his attitude Mamma was overjoyed and, the loss of her watch now completely forgotten, she regarded him benevolently, happily, every mouthful he took causing her an intense enjoyment, as if the food which he consumed was savoured by her own palate with infinite relish. She observed with sympathy that his face was matted by smuts; amazed at her own shrewdness, she surmised that he had brushed into a dusty hedge, that he had been hiding outside from his father. She was concerned, so that benevolence gave way to protection; he was her own boy once more and she would shelter and defend him against the world.

  ‘Did ye enjoy that, son?’ she asked finally, hungering for his praise. ‘I took special pains with it. I knew ye always liked it.’

  He smacked his lips.

  ‘It was lovely, Mamma! Better than all the curries I had to put up with out in India. I tell you I’ve missed your cooking. I’ve never had a decent fish like that since I left.’

  ‘Is that the case, son,’ she exclaimed. ‘It gladdens me to hear it. Now! is there anything else you would like?’

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw on the dresser a dish of small apples which he imagined she must have procured for him. He looked at her for a moment reflectively.

  ‘I think. Mamma, I would like an apple,’ he said with the simplicity of one who has pure desires. She was overjoyed to have anticipated his wish and at once brought over the dish.

  ‘Just what I thought. I gave the boy the order this morning,’ she said delightedly, proving her thoughtfulness of his every wish. ‘You said you wanted fruit and I said that you should have it.’

  ‘Thank you, Mamma! I don’t wish to smoke,’ he explained, as he bit with difficulty into the hard fruit, ‘and I’m told an apple destroys the craving. What need have I to smoke, anyway? It doesn’t do me any good.’

  Mrs Brodie laid her hand caressingly on his shoulder as she murmured:

  ‘Matt, it does my heart good to hear you say that. It’s worth more to me than anything on this earth. I’m happy. I feel we’re going to understand each other better, now. It must have been the long separation that upset us both, but these misunderstandings are sent from above to try us. I prayed for understanding to come to the both of us, and the prayer of an unworthy woman has been answered.’

  He lowered his eyes, for a moment, in remorse while he persisted in his efforts with the apple, then, looking up and choosing his words with extreme care, he said slowly, unveiling another rapturous surprise for her:

  ‘You know, Mamma, I saw Agnes this afternoon.’

  She started with surprise and pleasure.

  ‘Of course,’ he hurried on, before she could speak. ‘ I can’t say much just now. You mustn’t ask me anything. My lips must be sealed on what passed between us, but it was very satisfactory.’ He smiled at her deprecatingly. ‘I thought you would be pleased to hear, though.’

  She clasped her hands in ecstasy, her bliss only tempered by the thought that it was not she herself, but another woman in the person of Miss Moir, who had, perchance, turned her son’s steps back to righteousness. Still, she was overjoyed and, stifling the unworthy thought, she ejaculated:

  ‘That’s good! that’s grand! Agnes will be as ha
ppy as I am about it’ Her bowed back straightened slightly as she raised her moist eyes to heaven in a paean of unspoken gratitude; when she looked down again to earth Matthew was addressing Nessie.

  ‘Nessie, dear! I was selfish a minute ago but I’ll make up for it now. I’m going to give you this half of my apple if you leave Mamma and me together a little. I want to talk to her privately.’

  ‘Nonsense, Nessie!’ exclaimed Mamma, as Nessie stretched out her hand agreeably. ‘If you’re to have a bit apple don’t take the bite out your brother’s mouth.’

  ‘Yes, Mamma. I’m going to give this to Nessie!’ insisted Matt, in a kindly voice, ‘but she must let you and me have a little chat now. I’ve got something to say that’s for your ears alone!’

  ‘Well, Nessie,’ said Mrs Brodie, ‘take it, and thank Matt for it, and don’t let us have any more of your ungrateful remarks in the future. You can leave your homework in the meantime and go into the parlour and do your practising for half an hour. Away with you, now. Take the matches, and be careful how you light the gas.’

  Glad to be relieved from her hated books, Nessie skipped out of the room and soon the halting tinkle of the piano came faintly into the kitchen, interpolated at first by pauses barren of melody, co-related to the lifting of the apple from the bass end of the keyboard.

  ‘Now, Matt,’ said Mrs Brodie warmly, drawing her chair close to his, feeling that her improbable dream of the morning was about to be fulfilled, and hugging herself with a trembling satisfaction.

  ‘Mamma,’ began Matthew smoothly, inspecting his hands carefully, ‘ I want you to forgive me for being so – well – so offhand since I came back; but you know I’ve been worried. I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

  ‘I could see that, son!’ she agreed, compassionately. ‘ My heart has gone out to you to see how you’ve been upset. It’s not everybody that understands your sensitive nature the way I do.’

  ‘Thank you, Mamma,’ he exclaimed; ‘you’re kind as ever you were, and if you forget any hard words I’ve said I’ll be grateful. I’ll try and be a better man.’

  ‘Don’t belittle yourself in that fashion, Matt,’ she cried. ‘I don’t like to hear it. You were aye a good boy. Ye were always my own son – I never knew ye do a really wrong action.’

  He lifted his eyes for an instant and shot a quick furtive glance at her, then immediately veiled them, murmuring:

  ‘It’s nice to be in with you again, Mamma.’

  She smiled devotedly at his words, recollecting that as a boy it had been a manifestation of his childish pique to be ‘out with her,’ and, when she was eventually restored to favour, to be ‘in with her.’

  ‘We’ll never be out with each other again, will we, dear?’ she countered, fondly.

  ‘That’s so, Mamma,’ he agreed, and allowed an impressive pause to elapse before remarking casually: ‘Agnes and I are going to the prayer meeting to-night.’

  ‘That’s splendid, Matt,’ she whispered. He was definitely reclaimed! ‘I’m that pleased about it. Oh, but I would like to come with you both!’ She halted timidly. ‘ Still – I – I suppose ye would rather be your two selves. It’s not for me to interfere.’

  ‘It might be as well, perhaps, Mamma,’ he admitted deprecatingly. ‘You know how it is!’

  She looked at the clock, observing that it was quarter to eight. She regretted exceedingly having to break up this heart to heart talk, but with true unselfishness, she said, with a not unhappy sigh:

  ‘It’s nearly eight as it is, I’m afraid. You’ll have to be stirring now or you’ll be late,’ and she made as though to move.

  ‘Just a minute, though, Mamma!’

  ‘Yes, dear!’

  ‘I wanted to ask you another thing!’ He hesitated and looked at her soulfully, having, from his point of view, reached the critical point of the interview. ‘Mamma,’ he murmured irresolutely.

  ‘What is it, Matt, my dear?’

  ‘It’s just like this, Mamma! I may as well be honest with you! I’ve been an awful spendthrift,’ he confessed. ‘People have taken advantage of my generosity. I have no money just now. How can I go about with Agnes with nothing in my pocket?’ He had the air of one, the victim of his own open-handedness, from whom the words fell shamefully. ‘ I’m used to having some cash always with me. It makes me feel so small to be without it, specially when I’m with a lady, back in my own town. Could you not help me, Mamma, until I get started again?’

  She saw at once that it was a supremely reasonable request. She had been right in assuming that her boy, accustomed to high and lavish society, could not confront Levenford penniless; still less could he encounter Miss Moir in such a penurious predicament. In the flush of her reunion to him she threw caution to the winds and, with a magnificent sacrifice, she arose silently, unlocked her drawer and withdrew from it the square box which contained her accumulated savings for the initial repayment of her heavy debt. She looked adoringly at Matthew, heedless of the future, remembering only that she was the mother of this loving and devoted son.

  ‘This is my all, Matt,’ she said soberly, ‘and I’ve saved it dearly for a most important and necessary cause. But I am going to give ye some of it.’

  His eyes gleamed as she opened the box and took out a pound.

  ‘Take this for your pocket, son,’ she said simply, holding out the note to him. ‘I give it to you gladly. It’s yours!’ It was a sacrifice of supreme and touching beauty.

  ‘How much have ye altogether?’ asked Matthew ingenuously, rising up and going close to her. ‘You’ve got a lot in there, right enough.’

  ‘There’s nearly three pounds here,’ she replied, ‘and it’s been a weary job for me to save it. Times are hard with us now, Matt – harder than ye might think. I’ll need every penny of this by the end of the month.’

  ‘Mamma! Let me keep it for you,’ he said wheedlingly. ‘I’ll keep it till the end of the month. I’ll not spend it. I might as well keep it in my pocket as let you lock it in that old tin box. What a funny place to keep your money!’ He made the idea of her little box as a receptacle for money appear almost ludicrous. ‘I’ll be your banker, Mamma! It’s nice for me to feel I have something to fall back on, even if I never have the need for it. Just the feel of it beside me would make me comfortable. Come on, Mamma! a pound is nothing, really, to a fellow like me.’ He held out his hand coaxingly.

  She looked at him with a vague, frightened doubt in her eyes.

  ‘It’s most important for me to have this money by the end o’ the month,’ she stammered. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen if I haven’t got it.’

  ‘You shall have it then,’ he assured her. ‘What a worrier you are! Leave it to me. I’m as safe as the Bank of England!’ He took the money out of the open box as he continued talking volubly, reassuringly. ‘You’re not going to let your Matt go about like a pauper, are you, Mamma?’ He laughed at the very idea. ‘A gentleman needs a little ready brass to give him assurance. You’ll be right as rain, Mamma,’ he continued, edging into the hall. ‘I’ll see to that! Don’t sit up for me now, I’ll like as not be late.’

  He was out and away with a last, gay wave, and she was left, with the open, empty box in her hands, staring at the panels of the front door that had closed behind him. She sighed convulsively whilst the piano chattered in her ears with a false sprightliness. Blindly she suppressed the recurrent thought of her missing watch and an inchoate doubt as to the wisdom of so weakly allowing him to take the money. Matt was a good boy! He was hers again and their mutual love would surmount any obstacle and conquer all difficulties. He was on his way to worship God with a good Christian girl. Happiness flowed into her heart once more, and she returned to the kitchen, well content with what she had done.

  She sat down, gazing into the fire, a faint reminiscent smile upon her face at the memory of his tenderness to her. ‘He did relish that fish, the boy,’ she murmured to herself. ‘ I maun make him some more nice dishes.’ Then, suddenly, as she
was about to recall Nessie to her lessons the door bell rang with a short, trenchant peal. Mamma felt startled as she got up, it was so far beyond the time of an ordinary visitor. Matthew had his key, he could not have returned like this; the least thing upset her nowadays, she reflected, as she cautiously opened the door. Miss Moir, palely outlined in the glimmer of the lobby lamp, stood before her.

  ‘Oh! Aggie dear, it’s you,’ she exclaimed in some relief, pressing her hand to her side. ‘I got quite a fright. You’ve just missed Matthew by a few minutes.’

  ‘Can I come in, Mrs Brodie?’ Again Mamma was startled. Not once in the space of three years had Agnes addressed her in such terms, and never in such a strange, unnatural voice.

  ‘Come in – of course ye can come in, but – but I’m telling you Matthew has gone out to meet ye.’

  ‘I would like to speak to you, please.’

  In amazement Mamma admitted a frozen-faced Agnes. They went into the kitchen.

  ‘What’s it a’ about, dear?’ she faltered. ‘I don’t understand this in the least Matt’s away to meet you. Are ye not well?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you,’ came from Miss Moir’s stiff lips. ‘ Did you know that – that Matthew came to see me this afternoon?’ She had the utmost difficulty in uttering his name.