by Betty Annand
She rested her hand on his arm and said, “I am really sorry, Tom. I haven’t told anyone else, and I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve been so stupid. Please don’t be angry.” Tom shook her hand away and ran off.
When Gladys arrived home, he was sitting in an armchair with a glass of whiskey in his hand. She went to him and kneeled in front of him, “Please say you’ll forgive me, Tom. I only did it because I wanted to keep doing the things we do together, and I was afraid you would forbid it if you knew. Please, darling, let’s not argue. It’s so wonderful! We are going to be parents.”
“You may be, but how the hell do I know that I am?”
Gladys felt like she had been slapped across the face. She got up off her knees and cried, “That’s a cruel thing to say! You know you are the father. Why would you say such a thing?” When he didn’t answer, she burst into tears, ran upstairs and fell onto their bed. An hour later when she came down, Tom had left.
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Keith and two of his army buddies dropped into the Scots Inn for a drink that night and were surprised to see Tom sitting by himself in a corner. When he didn’t look up, Keith told his friends to go over and join him while he went to order drinks. “What’s going on?” he asked Neil Watt, pointing to toward Tom. Neil said he didn’t know, but Tom had been there for a few hours and had been drinking all that time.
Thinking that he and Gladys were having their first quarrel, and Tom was drowning his sorrows, Keith wasn’t too alarmed. He also knew how quick-tempered Tom could be at times, therefore, his sympathies were with Gladys. Making his way over to the men, he was trying to think of something to say that would encourage Tom to go home and apologize.
Tom hadn’t seen the men enter, and didn’t know Keith was with them, so when they walked up to his table, he greeted them in a loud and slurred voice. He was laughing and waving his arms about when Keith joined them, followed by Neil with a jug of ale and four mugs. “Here we are, boys,” was all Keith said, but he couldn’t help showing his disapproval when he glanced at Tom. As inebriated as Tom was, he saw the look, and taking offense, he jumped up just as Neil was putting the jug on the table, knocking it out of his hand. The jug fell to the floor and broke, sending ale and shattered glass across the floor.
Neil began to complain, but Tom interrupted, “Sorry about that. Here, this should cover it,” and he threw a handful of notes on the table, almost falling down at the same time. Keith reached out to steady him, but Tom pushed him away. “Get your hands off me, I do not require ashsishtensh.” Then he bowed and added, “Good evening, gentlemen,” and left.
Keith was going to run after him, but knowing how stubborn Tom could be, decided to stay and offer to help Neil clean up. Neil thanked him but said he could manage, so they moved to another table and ordered more ale. “We’ll scout around later and find him,” Keith suggested. “By then he should be too drunk to argue.”
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Gladys spent a restless night on the divan waiting for Tom to return. Every time she nodded off, she woke with a start, thinking she heard the sound of his footsteps. In the morning she not only felt exhausted, but worried. When she saw the time, she knew he wouldn’t be home again for at least two days, because he had to report back to barracks that morning. She feared he might have left her for good, and fought back more tears as she made herself a cup of tea and toasted some bread, but the food did little to cheer her up. What she really wanted was a sympathetic ear, and even though it was very early in the morning, she set off to visit Millie.
Because it was Sunday, Millie had slept in and was in her nightgown and robe when Gladys knocked. When she opened the door, Gladys threw her arms around her and wailed, “Oh, Millie, he’s gone! Tom has left me, and I shall have to raise the baby all by myself.” Millie, accustomed to the girl’s emotional outbursts, wasn’t too worried as she ushered her in and sat her down on a chair.
“There, there, now whatever is the matter?”
Between sobs Gladys managed to tell Millie what had happened. Then she remembered she hadn’t told Millie about the baby. “Oh, Millie, I’m so sorry, I never told you I was going to have a baby.”
“Well I knew you would tell me sooner or later.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected it about a month ago. Now did you get any sleep last night?”
“No, not really, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again.”
“Well, you just lie down on the bed there and rest, while I attend to my toilette, and then we shall talk some more over breakfast.” Gladys was asleep before Millie had even applied her makeup.
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Keith’s predictions had been spot on; he and his companions found Tom later that evening, out cold and lying in front of a seamy drinking establishment, probably tossed there by the proprietor. They managed to wake him up enough to get him back to the barracks and into his bunk, but the next morning he had such a hangover, he was unable to attend mess call. Feigning a bout of ague, he remained in his quarters for the rest of the day. Keith didn’t have a chance to talk to him until that evening.
“Okay, Tom, tell me what happened,” he said.
“Gladys is having a baby.”
“Congratulations! But do you not think you should have included her in the celebrating?”
“She has been pregnant for months.”
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know until yesterday. She did not tell me until then.”
“Well, I guess she wanted to wait to make sure.”
“Or she was pregnant before I married her.”
“Come on! You would surely know if she wasn’t a virgin.”
“I thought so, but I have heard that there are ways to fake that, and God knows, you could even be the father.”
“Now, look here, Tom, I am not going to stand for any more of your nonsense. I am not the father, but I wish to God I was,” Keith said, turning away.
Tom’s accusation had hurt Keith so badly, he refused to talk to him after that, and even went so far as to change beds with another soldier that same night. Tom regretted his words as soon as he had said them and was about to apologize, but changed his mind when Keith turned away from him. In the following days, he allowed his suspicions to grow and fester, and by the time his next leave was due, a perplexing mixture of pride, guilt, and stubbornness caused him to volunteer for extra duty, thinking it would serve Gladys right.
Hearing that Tom wasn’t going to take his leave, Keith knew that Gladys would appreciate a shoulder to cry on, and with not entirely unselfish intentions, he saddled up and left camp.
When Gladys looked out the window and saw a soldier riding up, she was sure it was Tom. As she heard his footsteps approaching, she threw the door open and fell into his arms, tipping her head back for a kiss. By the time she saw it was Keith and not Tom, it was too late. Keith, unable to resist, took advantage of the moment and kissed her back. Embarrassed, Gladys broke away from his embrace and Keith stammered, “Forgive me, Gladys, I . . . I . . . couldn’t stop myself.”
She acted as though she hadn’t heard him and quickly changed the subject, “Is Tom alright? Nothing has happened to him, has it?”
Keith assured her that Tom was well and then related what had happened. Gladys appeared so upset that Keith almost returned to barracks in order to give his friend a good thrashing, but he didn’t want to forfeit the opportunity to be alone with her. He accepted a cup of tea and asked what he could do to help. She explained that she would like to visit Tom’s father, Andrew, and tell him what had happened. Because Keith didn’t have a buggy, he offered to take her to the quay, riding double on his horse.
Many nights, Keith had dreamt of holding Gladys in his arms, and now as they rode toward the quay, his dreams had come true. He couldn’t help but fantasize that if Tom and Gladys didn’t reconci
le, she would turn to him and perhaps learn to love him. Friend or no friend, he figured it would serve Tom right. Gladys was so busy wondering if she should be running to Andrew with her troubles and what she would say to him when she got there, she didn’t even notice how tightly Keith held her.
Reality returned to Keith as he and Gladys sat facing Andrew Pickwick in his office. Although Andrew had shaken his hand when they arrived, there was something in the elder man’s look that made it perfectly clear he understood how Keith felt toward his daughter-in-law, and it caused Keith to feel guilty and disloyal.
Andrew was thrilled with the prospects of becoming a grandfather, but upset and angry with his son’s obstinate behaviour. “That boy’s pig-headedness has gone too far this time,” he declared. “I shall soon put him right when I see him. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until I return. I leave today—in a few minutes actually—to settle some shipping problems in Ireland. Those poor souls over there are getting the raw end of the stick, and I must try to help if I can. In the meantime, I think you and my unborn grandchild should have some means of transport. Let us see, a shay to go with Tig should do the trick.
“According to Tom and Bob Hennessy, who boards Tig, he is so attached to you that you may as well call him yours. You tell Bob I said you were to have the use of the little shay and Tig any time you want. Bob is a good sort and will look after you.” After Gladys thanked him, he added, “You are more than welcome. In fact, I shall write you out a bill of sale. That way my wife and those other two leeches, cannot accuse you of thievery. They would love the chance to have you arrested. And to make it perfectly legal, you can pay me a guinea.”
“I don’t have one here, Sir. Keith, could you lend me one? I shall pay you back as soon as you take me home.”
“Here you are,” Keith replied, and laid a guinea on the desk.
Andrew took the money, wrote out a bill of sale, then, as he handed it to her, he asked, “Now what about money? Did that rascal leave you penniless?”
“Oh, I have a little savings; I am sure I can manage.”
Andrew rose from his big leather chair and came around the desk. After giving Gladys a strong and reassuring hug, he said, “Don’t you worry, he may be a stubborn clout, but he’s not completely brainless. He will be back with his tail between his legs, you will see. And Gladys, if you could manage it, I would prefer ‘Dad,’ or ‘Andrew,’ to ‘Sir.’ As for you, Keith, thank you for bringing Gladys to see me, but I think she should take a cab home or tongues will be wagging, if they aren’t already. Will you be able to walk to the stable when you need the shay, Gladys?” She assured him it wasn’t too far.
Before they took their leave, Andrew insisted she accept a generous amount of money, saying he hoped that would be sufficient until either Tom came to his senses, or he returned from Ireland. As soon as Gladys returned home, she pulled a chair over to the built-in China cupboard in the dining room and put the note of sale from Andrew on the top shelf for safe keeping.
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The next afternoon, Keith visited Gladys again and took her to Bob Hennessy’s stable so she could have Tig harnessed to the shay, and then he went for a ride with her since she had never handled a rig before. Tom had often handed her the reins when they were together, so, although she was a bit nervous at first, she soon felt at ease. The thought of owning her own horse and buggy was so exhilarating she laughed, and called out, “I feel like a bloomin’ Queen!” without realizing her language had momentarily regressed.
Keith, overjoyed to see her happy once more, answered, “And I’d say you looks like a bloomin’ Queen.” For a second, she thought he was making fun of her, but then she realized that he didn’t know she wasn’t joking.
During the days that followed, Gladys was so thrilled with having her own means of conveyance, she seldom stayed home. Her evenings were spent visiting with Millie or Keith. It was the nights she dreaded, laying awake for hours longing for Tom’s warm body and his loving caresses. She often thought of sending him a message, begging him to come home, but as time went by, she began to feel less and less culpable and more and more the victim, so decided it was up to Tom to do the begging.
Tom was also having his share of sleepless nights, and he no longer wore his usual carefree, lopsided grin. Also noticeable was the adverse change in his personality. He missed Keith’s company almost as much as Gladys’s. He tried accompanying some of the other men into town for an evening, but found little enjoyment in it. He spent a good deal of his spare time reading, but nothing he read took his mind off his troubles.
When he heard that his father had returned from Ireland and had requested a meeting, he knew he was in for a tongue-lashing. Surprisingly, he looked forward to it. Andrew wasted no time with greetings when Tom met him at the Whale’s Tail. His first words were, “My God, boy, you really are an idiot!” He then went on to say that as much as he liked young Corkish, “I shall not sit by and let him raise my grandchild.”
“But, Dad, you don’t know what she did.”
“I do indeed! Gladys gave me a clear explanation of the event. She admitted she made a silly mistake, now you have to admit to yours, which I may add, was far worse.”
Tom knew he was being a fool, but until he heard his father say it, he couldn’t admit it. When he left his father’s office, he was in high spirits and wearing his familiar, lopsided grin.
On his way home he envisioned how happy Gladys would be to see him, and he gave his horse, Monty, a slap across the rear to speed him up, but when he came in sight of the house his anger returned. Keith’s horse was tied to the gate post. “Well, I shall soon get rid of him,” he said to his horse. He dismounted, ran up the steps, and entered without knocking, taking Keith and Gladys by surprise. They were in the living room, their heads bent over a game of draughts.
When Gladys saw him, she did all she could do to remain seated. She wanted to jump up and run into his arms, but she was afraid of being turned away again. “Well, Tom, this is a surprise. We are just about finished with this game. I am a poor opponent, so it will not take Keith long to finish me off, then I shall make us a cup of tea. I baked a seed cake today,” she said, as though he had never left.
Tom’s ire was building as he looked down on the two of them. Touching Keith on the shoulder, he said in a threatening tone of voice, “I would advise you to get on your horse now and leave.”
“I will leave when Gladys asks me to and not before,” Keith replied.
“Gladys?” Tom said, expecting her to respond accordingly.
“I think you are being very rude, Tom. Keith has been a big help around here since you’ve been gone. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”
Her words reinstated Tom’s earlier suspicions, and his face turned red. He gave a malicious sounding laugh, and said, “Oh, ho, I imagine he made himself right at home; but now the master of the house has returned, and his services are no longer required, so he can bloody well leave.”
Keith rose to go, but Gladys put her hand on his arm. “No, Keith you don’t have to. I think we should all sit down and talk.”
“There has been enough of that. Either he leaves or I do,” Tom snarled.
“Now you are being childish,” Gladys replied.
Her words hurt both Tom’s feelings and his ego. He not only felt embarrassed, but betrayed. “I guess it is me then,” he stammered as he stormed out of the house. Once outside, he quickly mounted Monty, whipped him across his flanks and rode off. Gladys and Keith ran to the open door in time to see him galloping down the road.
“Oh, Keith, go after him, please. You have to bring him back,” Gladys pleaded. “I can’t go on with this. You have to make him believe that I only love him. Please!”
Heartbroken, Keith left. Gladys’s words finally convinced him that she would never be his. Realizing what a fool he had been, he rode towards the castle.
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It had been a stormy day and although the rain and wind had subsided, dark clouds made dusk as murky as night. Tom’s fury was like a fire in his brain, and he heedlessly spurned his horse on at a dangerous pace. Suddenly he saw a barrier, but it was too late. A large elm tree had been uprooted and fallen across the trail. Monty saw it at the last moment as well and tried his best to scale it, but only made it halfway across. The last thing Tom thought as he went flying through the air was, “Oh, God, I hope that was a branch snapping and not one of Monty’s legs.”
Keith arrived at the fallen tree about ten minutes later, and would have suffered the same fate if he hadn’t been going at a much slower pace. Seeing the road was blocked, he dismounted and began leading his horse around the branches when he heard a faint neigh. Instinctively, he knew what had happened and called out, “Tom! Tom, where are you?” Receiving no answer, he tied his horse to a limb and began climbing over the debris. It didn’t take long to find Monty and realize that the animal had broken a leg or two and would have to be put down, but it took another five minutes to locate Tom, who was lying over a branch, his head hanging, his body as limp as a blanket.
Keith reached over to put his hand on Tom’s forehead. The sticky wetness he felt was easily identified and sent shivers up his spine. Knowing he couldn’t leave his friend in such a state while he went for help, he managed to lift him over the debris and lay him on the ground. Part of Tom’s scalp was hanging loose, exposing a portion of his skull and a huge gash ran down one side of his face. Feeling certain his friend was dead, Keith was both surprised and relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. He took off his jacket and laid it carefully and tenderly under Tom’s head, then used his shirt to wrap the wound. “There now, I am going to go and bring some help. Don’t you go dying on me now, or I will beat the hell out of you,” he said, before riding off.