she was seven. “ And he turned and looked a little way back along the path, from which he had come, towards an elderly man and woman walking one on each side of a younger woman, supporting her. The wife,” he said: and then he gulped, “Our only one.”
He continued his slow walk down one path, while she and Jimmy walked down the other.
Life was funny. No, not funny! The denial screamed in her head. She’d never use that word again when speaking or thinking of life. Life was not funny in any way; but it stretched before her and she had to live, and she did not know how she was going to manage it. If there weren’t Annie to see to, and her da. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she saw Alee standing half-hidden behind the buttressed corner of the church wall. As she caught sight of him he drew back, and she looked at Jimmy and said brokenly, The da, round the corner. Go and bring him. “
And Jimmy brought him.
Alee, at forty-six, appeared like a man of sixty. He had a bewildered look in the back of his eyes. He sat in the motor opposite Mary and Jimmy and he didn’t raise his head, or speak. When the car put them down outside the shop he made to walk away, but blindly Mary groped for his hand and led him round the corner, through the yard and up the stairs and so into her house for the first time.
What she wanted to do more than anything was to go into the bedroom, throw herself on to the bed and moan out her pain: but there would be time enough for that during the
long nights ahead. She tried to make herself remember that she wasn’t the only one who had suffered loss; her da had k! ; ; lost an’ all, at one go he had lost his mother and father, and through them going he had lost his support.
From the couch where he sat looking about him in a kind of amazement his eyes came to rest on her and he said quietly, “I hadn’t ... I hadn’t left the house ten minutes, Mary. If only I’d stayed behind, if only I had, that’s all I’m sorry for. If only I’d stayed behind.”
“Don’t be silly! don’t talk so.” Her voice was sharp. Mrs. McArthur came into the room and said, “The tea’s ready, lass,” and they all went into the dining-room and sat round the table. Cousin Annie, her own Annie, Jimmy and her da. And as she looked at them, one after the other, even at her own daughter, who was gulping tea whilst she cried, she wished them all far away. She had lost the only one that’ll”Ai ; I mattered, really mattered; she had lost the only one who it,^ v held her to this place. There came into her mind a very odd * ; thought for a moment such-as this, for she was saying to fei herself: If the war was over now I would sell up everything JSJ^’. , and travel, yes, I would. I’ve always wanted to travel. Ben’s |j i made sure that I’ve got enough to keep me in comfort for the t” ; rest of me life. I would travel, that’s what I’d do, and damn everybody.
jl’ . “) Her thought was snapped off as Jimmy said, Drink your tea.” She drank her tea, and they all came into focus again, Up and she knew that they all needed her as she had needed Ben. But this didn’t stop her from wanting to throw them off, for the weight of them was piling the years on her, and she knew the reason. Ben had always treated her as a girl;
even now she was twenty-seven he had still maintained the vision of her as she had been at sixteen; and Ben was gone, her support was gone; she had to shoulder them alone.
Chapter Five
“Do you hear that?”
“Wh-what!”
“That racket next door, or are you deaf?”
“No. I’m not deaf, but, but I was asleep and if you went to sleep you wouldn’t hear it either.”
“How can anyone sleep in that! Where’s the polls, I’d like to know?”
Tolls? “ Jimmy turned over, raised himself, then leaning his elbows on his knees, supported his head in his hands while he said slowly, “ They’re having a party . you can’t have a quiet party . you’re allowed to make a bit of noise at a party. “
“Put your knees down! Might as well not have any bed clothes on at all. Haven’t you any consideration for anybody but yourself? ... Party you say! it’s been going on for hours. Do you know what time it is?
It’s twenty-five minutes to four. Party! I’ve never closed me eyes. Do something. “
“What’—he turned on her ‘what can I do?”
‘you can get up and tell them to stop it. “
The go over there and tell them to stop it? “
That’s what I said. If you were any kind of a man you would have been over hours since when they first started. “
It was a fortnight since the mass burials at the cemetery and she’d been quiet since then, even civil to him, so much so that he had come to think that if it weren’t for his mother they might have a chance.
He had never liked his mother, but after she had stood in his kitchen, the day after the bombs had dropped and had looked at him and said, “God’s slow but He’s sure; when He pays back He doesn’t use small coin; she’s got her deserts at
last,” there had risen in him a hate of her. He had almost sprung on her, something in him had leapt at her and taken her by the throat and choked her; he had felt the blood draining from his face as he stared at her, and then he had said, “ I hope God forgives you, but He’ll have His work cut out. “ Then he had left her and he hadn’t spoken to her since. He passed her in the house here as if she didn’t exist; when she talked at him, tried to rouse him, he ignored her. He felt it was better to ignore her for he mightn’t be responsible for what he might do or say if he once opened his mouth.
He had drunk very little since Christmas, a few pints that was all; he had determined to try and give it up, especially the hard stuff, for he knew he couldn’t carry it and still be himself. No man could really, but he could carry less than most.
“What you sitting there for like that, as if you were miles away? Get up, go to the door and shout.... Listen to them. They’re going mad.
It’s a wonder Barney Skelton hasn’t been down. Oh, I forgot, he’ll be one of them. And the Pinchers from next door on that side, and the Wilsons on this side. Go on! “ She gave him a dig in the back that almost pushed him out of the bed, and he turned on her, his temper naring up as it was apt to do at times, and shouted, “ Don’t you do that! You’ll do it once too often. “
Slowly he got out of the bed, pulled on a thin dressing—gown and his slippers and went out into the hallway. The noise of the singing and yelling echoed through the house;
then with startling suddenness the door opposite him was pulled open and the sound came at him like a wave.
In the doorway stood Albert Briggs, his arms round a woman; they were both singing at the top of their voices. Behind him came two other men and another woman, and there were more people behind them again.
“Ho! who’ve we here, eh?” Albert Briggs loosened his hold on the woman and waved his hands above his head, crying now, look! It’s
Mister Walton. Mister Walton’s come to join the party. Have you come to join the party, Mister Walton? “
Albert Briggs lifted his seventeen stone towards Jimmy. He had no coat on and his shirt sleeves were rolled up showing arms knotted with corded muscle. Albert was a docker and proud of it, and proud of his strength, and with one big hand he now gripped Jimmy’s shoulder.
Although they were both of similar height, Jimmy was like a reed compared with Albert Briggs, and Briggs could also give Jimmy ten years. Briggs actually shook him now when stressing the appellation mister
“Mister Walton,” he said; “Mister Walton ‘as come to honour us with his presence. You know something’, folks?” He turned to the rest of the company who were crowding into the hall, their faces silly with laughter.
“Mister Walton is a gen-el-man, he is. Lally says he’s a gen-el-man ‘cos Mister Walton can write poetry. What do you think of that?” He ended this by giving Jimmy a half playful punch in the stomach.
Gasping for breath, Jimmy stepped out of Briggs’s way and forced himself to say, “Now look here, enough’s enough. It’s nearly four in the morning; I t
hink it’s about time you gave up, don’t you?”
“Listen! Mister Walton is speakin’. Bill, ya bugger, come here a minute.” He motioned to a man at the back of him, and when the man came forward Briggs said to him, “This is mister Walton, the genel-man.”
“Albert, Albert, stop it!” It was Laity’s voice shouting now. Do you hear me, our Albert? Stop it! and come on in. “ However, Albert took no notice of his wife but went on addressing his companion.
“What’ll we do with Mister Walton, what, Bill, eh? What’ll we do with him, eh? Look.
Look. “ He grabbed at Jimmy’s pyjama legs.
“He wears ja-mas! Mister Walton, the gen-el-man wears ja-mas! Aw Bill, fancy a man havin’ to wear ja-mas, eh? Ja-mas only get in the way, don’t they lad?” There was uproarious laughter before Briggs ended, “Wonder would they fit me?”
Jimmy looked apprehensively around the laughing beer—blotched faces;
then towards his own door. But Briggs was between him and the door.
When Briggs’s hands came out and clutched him round the waist he fought back with both feet and hands, but Briggs |s: ; had the grip of a gorilla, and now he was assisted by three of the other men. Laughing like maniacs, they got him on to the floor, where he was helpless against their hands, and they pulled off his pyjama trousers while Lally screamed above the din, “Stop it! the lot of you. You dirty, rotten lot of swine, stop it!”
“Shut her up somebody? Shut her up!” It was Briggs shouting now, and one of the men got hold of Lally and pushed her, struggling, back into her room, and none too gently; then, banging the door, he held on to the knob.
“Wha’ about the dustbin, eh, wha’ about the dustbin?” There was a chorus: “Aye, aye! that’s an idea. Come on, heave-oh!” And with this, four of the men hoisted Jimmy up, covered now only in his pyjama top, while he bawled at them, “Stop it you mad lot! Let me down! Do y’hear? Do y’hear? Briggs! Briggs! You’ll pay for this, Briggs....”
“Yell ya bloody head off, chum. Come on, out the back way. Mind the bloody black-out. Bin’s in the back yard.” ill’ Briggs was yelling instructions, and it was Barney Skelton U|;! who emptied the dustbin.
Then while Jimmy still fought ‘,t; them they doubled him up like a wire-clothes peg and rammed him, buttocks first, into the bin, and of a sudden he was quiet.
“Open the yard door. Go on, open the yard door, you silly bugger, we can’t roll him in here, not enough room, an’ shush your hush, we don’t wanna bring the bloody wardens on us.”
Reeling now and with suppressed, almost insane laughter, they carried the bin into the back lane, remarking as they’ll: went, “His legs are like matchsticks.”
“He’s got no flesh on his arse, just bones. Over you go!” They tipped the dustbin across the narrow gutter that ran
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down the middle of the lane and began to roll it. But it had revolved only about three times when Lally came stumbling out and stood square in its path. She had a torch in her hand and she flashed it over them, crying, “Stop it, you dirty buggers! Stop it. I’ve got a poker here, and I’ll brain the first one that comes near him. I’m tellin’ you.”
Then opening her mouth wide, she yelled, “Polis! polls!”
Showering oaths on her while they still laughed, they scrambled back through the yard door, Briggs among them, and when it had clashed shut she stooped down and, putting the torch on the cobbles of the lane, she gently eased him from the bin, muttering all the time, “Oh my God!
Mister Walton. Oh; I’m sorry! Oh I am, I am that. “
Even out of the bin. Jimmy was unable to get to his feet, he was bruised from head to foot. It is true to say that if they had rolled him the length of the back lane he would have been dead before he reached the end of it, for his nose was scraped and bleeding, the skin was off one cheek bone, and, what was worse, at this moment he felt that his body would never straighten out again.
He had never been one to go in for sports, being too lanky, but he had often done a few exercises such as touching his toes and skipping. But to be bent like this! He thought they had broken his back.
Oh God, God! The humiliation of it. He was cold, both inside and out, icy cold. It seemed to have encased his heart. What was happening to him? Why were things happening to him like this?
“Come on, try to stand, and get inside; you’ll die out here in this cold.” She took his arm.
When he stood up he was embarrassingly aware of his nakedness but thankful to God that it was dark. She mustn’t turn the torch on him.
Like a child walking over a pebbly beach, he stumbled over the cobbles towards the back door. She had one arm around him now to support him, and when her other hand tried to open the door and it didn’t move she cried loudly,
“Open the door, you dirty buggers! Open the door!” But there was no answer to her calling.
“Come on. Come on,” she now said quickly.
“We’ll get in the front way.
Your wife will let you in. Even if they’ve closed the door, she’ll. she’ll open it. “
Hobbling still, and his teeth now rattling like castanets, he stumbled towards the end of the lane, and round the corner, and his feet had just touched the smooth ice coldness of the pavement when the light flashed over them.
“Well! an’ what do you think you’re up to? What’s this?”
The light showed the constable a man, naked except for a pyjama jacket, and a woman in a skin-tight dress with a low neck, a blonde.
“What do you think you’re up to?”
“It’s all right, con ... constable, the ... the back door was locked, we couldn’t get in.” Lally was gabbling.
“How did you get out?” He was addressing Jimmy now. You’ve forgotten something, haven’t you? What’s your name? “
“I tell you it’s all right, constable.” Lally’s voice was high, and there was a note of fear in it.
“I’m speaking to him. What’s your name?”
Jimmy couldn’t answer for a moment because of his chattering teeth, and then he said, “Look, they were having a prac ... practical joke.”
“A practical joke! What kind of a practical joke? A naked man and a woman in the street at this time of the morning! Where’s the practical jokers? I can’t see any.” He swept the torch from one side of the road to the other.
“What’s your name?”
Oh! dear God. Oh! dear, dear God. There was a voice crying from the depths of him, as if in prayer, for help out of this situation. He stammered again: “It’s ... all a mis ... mistake... con ... constable, they... “ Stop warning. What’s your name? “
“Wal ... Walton.”
“Where do you live?”
“Sev ... seventeen Haydon ... this street.”
“Well, we’ll go to number seventeen.”
The door into the hall was open but the doors on each side were closed. Jimmy went to turn the knob of his door and found it locked and he shook it vigorously, angrily. And now he yelled on a stammer:
“Be ... Betty! Betty! Op ... open the door, Betty.”
“I... I live across there.” Lally was pointing now “Oh yes!” said the policeman.
“Yes!” she barked back at him now, then went and tried the door. But this, too, was locked; and now she was yelling. ‘you, Albert! you, Albert! you rotten swine you! open the door. “ But still there was no sound, not even a drunken giggle. Then she turned and looked at the policeman in a sort of mute desperation.
Suddenly Jimmy’s door was opened and there stood Betty in a dressing-gown, and when she saw her husband trying vainly to hide his nakedness she gave a girlish gasp as if she had never seen him bare before, and she cried plaintively, Oh! Oh! “
‘you know this man. Missis? “
“Know this man!” She turned her head to the side as Jimmy pushed past her and went into the house.
“Can you account for him being in the street naked at this hour of morning?”
“No,
I can’t.” She now glared across the dim hall towards Lally.
“Nor can I account for her being with him.”
So that’s how it was.
“May I come in a minute, Missis?”
Betty’s head rolled from one side to the other, but before she could speak Jimmy was back at the door buttoning up a pair of trousers, and he barked now, “No, you can’t come in for a minute. Whatever details you want you can have here. My name’s Jimmy Walton; you know my address; you know how you found me, so make what you like out of that.
Get inside! “ He turned and thrust Betty into the room; then, with the door in his hand, he pointed to his bleeding nose and i73
cheek, and his scraped feet, and said, “I’ve been having fun, look. I was stripped and put in a dustbin and rolled down the back lane. Put that down in your little book. You won’t believe it, but put it down because that’s my story.” And at this, he banged the door in the policeman’s face, and the policeman turned to the blonde woman standing leaning against the door as if she were half drunk, and said, “And what have you to say to all this?” And her defiant answer was, “Just what he said word for word.”
Chapter Six
it caused a great laugh; after the horror of the bombing such an incident was welcome. The poor fellow was unlucky; it said so in the papers. He wasn’t accident prone, he was just dirty-trick prone. This was the same man, it was said, who had been brought up and bound over for leading half the populace of Shields in a dance round the Market Square to the strains of the Salvation Army band just before Christmas. Now the poor fellow, through no fault of his own, gets caught naked in the street. He had got up at half past three in the morning to quieten a party that was going on in the flat opposite and the revellers had taken him out, stripped him, put him in a dustbin and rolled him down the back lane. Now that kind of trick could be done on a young lad, but when you do it on a six-foot-three man there’s bits of him bound to protrude, and Mr. Walton’s protrusions had become very sore points for days the reporter had a great sense of humour.
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