The Thursday Friend

by Catherine Cookson

  She said nothing, but waited; and now he turned and, facing her, said, ‘There are complications.’ He now ran his forefinger over his lips. ‘Everything will be explained to you later; but, at present, I would ask you to do something for me.’

  ‘Yes?’ She waited.

  ‘Well, it’s just this. I can’t understand why my aunt has asked that you come with me to the funeral on Tuesday.’

  ‘Oh, that is nice of her, to invite me at last to the house. Didn’t she give you her reasons?’

  She saw that his Adam’s apple was motionless in his throat, as if it were choking him; then he went on, ‘No. No; that’s it, she just said, “I . . . I’d like you to bring your wife to the funeral.” Now it’s . . . it’s this way, Hannah: you can’t go.’

  ‘Why not?’ Her voice was high with enquiry.

  ‘Well, I’ve told you, there’s something to explain and I’ll explain it all later, after this business is settled.’

  ‘You mean, after the will is read?’

  ‘Oh.’ He tossed his head now and his eyes closed for a second before he brought out on a growl, ‘Oh, yes; yes. I suppose that’s it, after the will is settled. In any case, you must not come with me on Tuesday, you understand?’

  ‘No, I don’t; and if she’s invited me, I’m going.’

  ‘You’re not!’

  When he stepped towards her she remained exactly where she was, and her voice was quiet but her tone deadly as she said, ‘Don’t tell me what I have to do and what I haven’t to do. Get it into your head, Humphrey, that you cannot control me in any way at any time, now or in the future. I go my own way, you go yours.’

  ‘Hannah’ – she could see that he was trembling – ‘please do this for me, this one thing. It would be quite easy to say that you’re not well or that you’ve got a cold.’

  She stopped herself from saying, One of the hundreds I must have had over the last three years, I suppose; that is, when I wasn’t being frivolous and getting you to take me out to wine and dine.

  As her temper rose, she asked, ‘Can you really give me a reason why I shouldn’t go to your uncle’s funeral with you on Tuesday?’

  He came back swiftly, saying, ‘Not at the moment, Hannah. I can’t give it to you at the moment, but . . . but I will after Tuesday, say on Wednesday. Then I’ll explain everything to you and I hope you’ll be able to understand.’

  ‘Understand what?’

  ‘Oh, dear God!’ He turned from her, clutching his head. ‘If I could answer you now I would not be begging you not to come to the funeral.’

  She stared at him. ‘All right, Humphrey; I won’t go to the funeral, but I’ll phone and express my sympathy and tell your aunt why I can’t come.’

  ‘No. No!’ But then his hand went to his brow and he said, ‘Well, yes; yes, you could do that. Yes, you could.’ She watched him take in a deep breath, then slowly let it out and, for a moment, his body appeared to be like a large, deflated balloon perched on top of two stilts.

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘What? . . . I mean, yes . . . yes, and thank you, Hannah. I hope when all this is over you’ll be able to understand, and you’ll welcome the news, I’m sure, as it will mean you’ll be able to go your own way.’

  ‘Oh’ – she allowed her face to stretch – ‘that sounds interesting. How long have I got to wait for this?’

  Again he was showing impatience before he said, ‘I told you.’

  She broke in here, saying, ‘Oh, yes; the will will be read. After the will is read. Yes; yes, I understand.’ She now walked past him, saying, ‘Goodnight, Humphrey.’

  He stared after her, and it wasn’t until she had passed into the hall that he answered her. ‘Goodnight, Hannah.’

  On Monday morning, as he was loading his briefcase, she said, ‘You’re going to work?’

  He had his back to her when he spoke. ‘Yes; I may as well. She’s staying at the nursing home. I’ve left the number by the phone. I offered to go and help with things, but apparently everything has been arranged. She wants to be left alone, and so I won’t go until tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hannah added nothing to this.

  She allowed half an hour to pass before she phoned Mrs Drayton, and when she told her of Humphrey’s demand that she should not come to the funeral, Mrs Drayton said, ‘Well, don’t, my dear, don’t come to the funeral; but see that you are here when we come back; that is, at the nursing home, you know. The funeral will be very quiet; there’ll be only James Morgan, my solicitor, his clerk, Tom Frint, Humphrey and myself, and a few others; then you’ll be there afterwards.’

  Hannah was puzzled. ‘You want me to be there to hear the will read?’

  ‘Yes, Hannah.’

  ‘Oh! Well, if that’s your wish, Mrs Drayton, I’ll be there.’

  Mrs Drayton then asked, ‘What was his attitude to you last night when he got home?’

  ‘Well, to put it briefly, he was very disturbed.’

  ‘Yes, my dear; I should imagine he would be. I’ve learnt over the last few days, my dear, that one is never too old to learn the lessons of life: never trust anyone, wholly; no, never wholly. And that’s a strange thing for me to say, because I’ve lived with a wonderful man for nigh-on fifty years, but I now have to accept that none of us knows what’s in the other’s mind. I’ll go now, my dear; but if I don’t manage to get a private word with you on Tuesday, I want you to get in touch with me, wherever you are. I’d like us to meet again. Are you of the same mind?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mrs Drayton. Yes; yes, indeed.’

  ‘Goodbye, my dear.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Drayton.’

  Hannah’s eyes were moist. Never trust anyone, never, no matter who they are. What an awful thing to learn at the end of one’s life. Would it be better to learn it early on and not be hoodwinked? She didn’t know; she had not yet acquired the experience of age . . .

  She was waiting in the sitting room of the nursing home when the small company of mourners returned. Three directors from Mr Drayton’s firm, together with the solicitor, his clerk and Humphrey himself had gone off to take refreshments, and a nurse came into the sitting room, saying, ‘Mrs Drayton asks you to excuse her; she’ll be with you very shortly.’

  Hannah inclined her head and smiled at the nurse, continuing to wait. Some ten minutes later Mrs Drayton appeared. ‘My dear, have you had anything to eat or drink?’

  ‘I’ve had a cup of tea, Mrs Drayton, and that’s all I wanted, thank you.’

  ‘Me, too; that’s all I wanted. Well now, I think we’d better get going. Be prepared.’ There was the semblance of a smile on her face now as she repeated, ‘Be prepared to assist your husband to a chair when he sees you are here.’

  Hannah smiled but made no remark; then Mrs Drayton rang a bell and asked the nurse who responded, ‘Will you please tell the gentlemen we are ready?’

  Humphrey was the first to appear, strutting as though he were already in ownership; but he stopped the progress of the others by thrusting out his hand and gripping the doorpost. Every vestige of colour went from his face as he saw his wife sitting next to Mrs Drayton on the small couch at the far end of the room.

  A slight push from the solicitor’s clerk and he seemed to stumble into the room and glance about it before he made his way towards the end of a row of five chairs. This brought him almost opposite Hannah. His eyes were fixed upon her; from the expression on his face it could be said that he was absolutely flabbergasted. His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes were wide, and his nostrils were quivering.

  The solicitor and his clerk seated themselves at a table on which lay several folders, while the three directors took the seats next to Humphrey.

  Mr Morgan now opened a file, cleared his throat, straightened his tie, then began: ‘For such an impo
rtant person as Mr Drayton,’ he said, ‘you may consider this a very short will, but you’ll see the reason for it as I go on.’ He looked up and smiled around the small company, then continued: ‘It’s usually the most important people who have the least to say, and we remember that Mr Drayton was a man who came straight to the point.’ He went through the usual preamble, then continued, ‘“It would take many reams of paper to hold all my wishes for the future of our company, and so this I have left in the good hands of my wife, an excellent businesswoman. It is she who has made it her business to change my views on suggestions that I had previously rejected, suggestions made by you, Mr Ferguson, for our Manchester works, and you, Mr Petty, for our two factories in the West Country. These suggestions will now be acted upon.”’

  ‘“There may be people whom I should mention as beneficiaries, but again I’ve left this in the hands of my good wife. There is only one I wish to mention, and I’m doing this at the behest of my wife, for we think that this person has been very unfairly treated. We wish to make amends for the treatment she has received from her husband over the past three years and for the defamation of her character. I am speaking of Mrs Hannah Drayton, the wife of Humphrey Drayton, the son of a man who was thought to be my second cousin but who was no blood relation, his own father’s parent being my stepbrother. I therefore leave to Mrs Hannah Rose Drayton the sum of fifty thousand pounds, although no sum of money can compensate her for the loss of character and loneliness through neglect over the past three years.”’

  There was a stillness in the room. Hannah could not look at Humphrey. She could only see his hands, and they were hanging limp over the wooden arms of his chair. It was as if he had fainted. No-one in the company looked towards him, apart from Mrs Drayton, and there was not a shred of pity in her gaze. Although Humphrey’s body was limp, the muscles of his face were tight; his eyes were stretched wide and his jaws were clamped tight, pushing his thin mouth out into almost a long pout. His features were absolutely colourless.

  Hannah could scarcely believe what she had heard. Fifty thousand pounds! A fortune. No, no; she couldn’t believe this; and now as she looked at the man opposite her she knew that, although she had wanted justice, she would have rather had it in some other way. Exposure, yes, oh definitely, but not for him to be stripped, as he surely had been, by his uncle and would be by the woman sitting next to her. The sensation she was now feeling was that of faintness. She heard a thin voice say, ‘May I have a glass of water?’ She was pointing along to the carafe and glass standing at the hand of the solicitor. Then she knew it was Mrs Drayton who was holding the glass to her mouth, and as she gulped at the water she heard the solicitor say, ‘Gentlemen, we could adjourn for the present. Anyway, the main business of today is at an end, I think.’ Then he added again, ‘I think.’

  ‘Take some deep breaths.’

  Hannah did as she was told.

  When the wave of faintness had passed she was aware that, apart from Humphrey, all the men had left the room. He was still sitting and staring at her in a most odd way. It wasn’t so much that he looked shocked, but greatly puzzled. Then she saw him pull himself up and speak. ‘Why have you done this to me, Aunt?’

  After a few seconds Mrs Drayton said, ‘I can answer that by using your own words: Why have you done this to us? Treated us as imbeciles while you’ve lied and cheated and thought nothing of defaming your wife, making her out to be an extravagant, demanding slut of a woman. Don’t remind me, please, that we didn’t take to her at first. That is quite true, but that would have changed with acquaintanceship, I’m sure, from what I know now. But one thing I can say with assurance, we would never have come to hate and despise her as we did, were it not for your weekly description of her selfishness, her demands, her profligacy and her thought for no-one but herself. You gave us the impression that you would have divorced her, had it not been that we did not hold with the idea; and you sit there and ask why we have done this to you? I shudder to think that you could have come into a great inheritance; yes, a great inheritance, because my husband thought much of you. Time and again I had doubts, but he squashed them; and, I repeat, I shudder to think that it was only a Saturday morning phone call that revealed you for the lying, despicable creature that you are, and disclosed how, for three years, you have been associating with the illegitimate daughter of my housekeeper. Yes, that surprises you, too, that this girl to whom you have given children is herself illegitimate. Your Mrs Beggs, I now find, has been stealing from me for years, while you have been insisting what a treasure she is: she was filling your bags from my store cupboard and helping to sustain your family. Unfortunately, I have never bothered much with household details; I have paid the bills, but at times I did think it was taking quite a lot of money to feed three people. Anyway, you will now have the pleasure of joining her and her daughter and your two illegitimate children. One last thing; I do not wish to see you again under any circumstances. Do you understand me, Humphrey?’

  ‘No, I don’t understand you.’ He was on his feet now. Gone was the limp, amazed and even frightened-looking individual when, bending down towards Mrs Drayton, he cried, ‘What I understand is this! I could make a case of it. You have brought me up to believe that I was to be your heir and now I’m to be cut out of the will for the simple reason that I take care of the only woman I ever loved. I wonder how Uncle’s good name would appear if it were splashed across the papers, and yours too, with your narrow-minded ideas about divorce and separation and infidelity. How would it look if I were to tell my side of the story? Here was a woman deserted by her husband – your gardener, someone you had inveigled into marrying her so as to keep her from me. And when I find her destitute – years later – what do I do? I look after her. That’s all I do, just look after her, because, by then, I was married. If I were to tell such a story, I wonder where the sympathy would go then? It’s so unfair. And she’ – he now thrust out his arm, his finger pointing at Hannah – ‘she’s not without blame; oh no, if you only knew.’

  Mrs Drayton had put out her hand to press the bell. When the nurse appeared, she said, ‘Will you please see Mr Drayton out, Sister, and I do not wish for any more visits from him in the future. You understand?’

  The nurse said nothing but stood looking at the tall man whose face was now no longer pale but scarlet.

  He turned to Mrs Drayton and said, ‘I’m not through. I’m not through. A surprise is waiting for you, and you’ll hear from me.’

  Mrs Drayton said nothing, but she watched him take three backward steps, then stand glaring at her before throwing himself around, almost overbalancing the nurse in the process as he left the room.

  Hannah was sitting with her back pressed tight against the corner of the couch. Her eyes were closed and one hand was cupping her chin as if to stop her jaw shaking.

  It was some moments before Mrs Drayton spoke. Then it wasn’t to Hannah but to the nurse, who had appeared again after she rang the bell. ‘D’you think we might have a tray of tea, please?’ she said.

  ‘Of course. Of course, Mrs Drayton.’

  Then Mrs Drayton’s hand came on to Hannah’s and she said softly, ‘Are you feeling sorry for him?’ Hannah opened her eyes; but it was some seconds before she answered, ‘In a way; but . . . but only in a way.’

  ‘It is the same with me – but only in a way. Of course, if I was leaving him without sustenance, it would be a different matter; but he has a very good job and he has accommodation, and now, since you will be leaving it, my dear, he will likely take his new family there.’

  The house: she must get back there and clear her few things out. Her typewriter, the little chair she had bought secondhand.

  As if she were reading Hannah’s thoughts, Mrs Drayton said, ‘It would be best if you don’t meet up with him for a time. He is, I would say, in a dangerous mood. Now, you will keep in touch, won’t you?’

  ‘Oh,
of course, Mrs Drayton. I’ll come here as often as you like. In the meantime, I can give you my new address.’ She opened her bag, and from it took a piece of paper on which she wrote David’s address and phone number.

  And then she said, ‘I shall never get over the fact of being left all that money, Mrs Drayton. I find it impossible to take in. Yesterday I hadn’t tuppence, so to speak, and now—’

  ‘To my mind, you deserve every penny of it, my dear. Now come along: drink that tea, then get yourself back as quickly as possible. I’ll be anxious to know you’re safely out of that house.’

  Ten minutes later Hannah was saying goodbye to the older woman; and when she placed her lips on the pale, wrinkled cheek and found Mrs Drayton’s arms going around her she could not withhold her tears. No further word of goodbye was exchanged, only a long look, which cemented their growing friendship.

  The taxi driver had taken the box of books and another of papers and placed them inside the cab. Now he had picked up the typewriter from the seat of the revolving chair when a voice bawled at him, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’

  Startled, the man turned, then said, ‘Putting these in the cab, as me passenger asked.’

  ‘Put it down!’

  ‘Do no such thing!’ Hannah was standing in the doorway now. ‘Put it inside with the other things. Please do as I say, it’s mine!’ Then, turning to Humphrey, she said, ‘I bought that and this chair together, if you remember. They’re my property, and I’m taking them.’

  ‘Like hell you are!’

  He picked up the chair and almost flung it back into the hall; the taxi driver, who had put the typewriter into the back of the cab, returned without hesitation to collect the chair, only to have the door slammed in his face.

  ‘Think you’re clever, don’t you?’ Humphrey was glowering at Hannah. ‘For two pins I would throttle you, you scheming bitch! You think you’re clever, don’t you? laughing up your sleeve at me; but I’ll have the last laugh on you, you’ll see. Give me some of that money, or I’ll let the cat out of the bag; then see how far you’ll get with her.’