Four Respectable Ladies Seek Part-time Husband

by Barbara Toner

‘Good Lord, Maggie, surely it’s not eight,’ she said.

  ‘She thought I might need help with the horses,’ said Martin Duffy smoothly.

  ‘What’s wrong with the horses?’ Louisa asked.

  ‘I thought they wanted moving. I thought that’s what you said.’ Maggie stirred eggs, head bent low over the pan, hearing the anger in Louisa’s voice without having to see it in her eyes.

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Well someone did. I’m sure you said … Oh no, it was Mrs Fellows. She said she’d heard that you’d sold them to someone and they’d need rounding up and moving and who was going to do it.’

  ‘Well I haven’t and they don’t,’ said Louisa. ‘You can tell stupid Theresa Fellows that if Mr Stokes thinks I’m selling them for meat, he’s barking up the wrong tree. I now have a man to help me manage them and we won’t appreciate or tolerate any further interference from him. Isn’t that right, Martin?’

  Martin! They were on Christian-name terms already. God, what had they been up to when no one was looking? Maggie laughed loudly. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Mrs Worthington. Martin was just saying he isn’t much of a man for –’

  ‘I think I could move a few,’ he said quickly. ‘I can’t imagine having any trouble with that.’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ murmured Louisa. ‘But they’re not being moved, so it won’t come up. I can do the eggs, thank you, Maggie.’ She nudged the younger girl out of the way and took the wooden spoon from her. She handed it back almost at once as the very sight of a yellow, runny, oozing mess made her heave. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Too hot.’ She stepped outside, breathing deeply, checking whatever she’d eaten that was rising in her throat, which included humble pie as well as rabbit.

  Martin Duffy had turned out not to have a fondness for drink, despite his jolly appearance. He hadn’t been jollied into rum, he hadn’t wanted to sit with her while she had rum and he hadn’t wanted a second helping of casserole. He’d done exactly as Pearl had instructed: unpacked, joined her to eat and spoken only of the delicious food and the chilly weather. Then he’d gone to his room, almost as if he really were dull Miss McCleary’s cousin.

  She had exactly the same thought an hour later when Pearl addressed him as she might a very annoying and stupid younger brother. ‘I hope you have your wits about you this morning, Mr Duffy,’ she said as she produced a large notebook in which there was much written even though there had been no consultation.

  She was as cool as ice, Louisa noted, even though the baby was fussing in his pram and Adelaide was wondering aloud whether he needed to be taken outside for a minute. ‘He’ll settle,’ Pearl assured her.

  ‘I assume you intend to lead this discussion, Miss McCleary?’ It was her house, Louisa told herself, so any leading should be hers.

  ‘Of course she does,’ smiled Maggie, mostly so she could show how white and even her own teeth were.

  ‘I thought I’d outline the basics,’ Pearl said. ‘I’ve simplified them as best as I can so we can arrange them in order of urgency and ease of managing. Is that all right by everyone?’

  Martin Duffy said, ‘Suits me.’

  ‘But before we do,’ Pearl said, glancing up at him, ‘I’m sure we’d like to hear about you. I know Mrs McGuire approved of you but she hasn’t been able to tell us why.’ This was less than cousinly, Louisa admitted to herself.

  ‘There isn’t much to tell,’ he began. Either there really wasn’t much or he was keeping himself to himself but the bones, laid bare, were sparse. He’d come from Cork with his mother in 1913, taken a job in a boiling-down works, taken a job in a pub, taken a job on a building site, then taken another job at the Sydney City Council moving papers around, which he enjoyed. ‘More sitting about,’ he smiled. ‘But I left to give way to a returning soldier.’

  ‘And why didn’t you go to war?’ Louisa asked. It was provocative. Of course it was, but his own fault. He should at least have agreed not to let her drink on her own.

  ‘You know why,’ Maggie answered for him. ‘So I don’t think it’s fair of you to ask.’

  ‘Well he has the Archbishop to thank for his safety,’ Louisa said tartly. ‘Lucky him.’ Then, suspecting she was doing herself no good, added, ‘Not of course that I have anything against Catholics. Anyway, you gave up your job to a serving man and now here you are.’ She smiled at him and he smiled back, so the heart that had hardened, softened and the confidence that had ebbed, once again flowed.

  ‘I’m as loyal an Australian as the next man,’ Martin Duffy said. ‘I struggle with loyalty to the King of England.’

  The words hovered over the table, darting tiny arrows into Adelaide’s heart where they landed like treason to which she had no proper response. How could she employ a traitor when her own husband had come back from saving the King a changed man and Jimmy Worthington hadn’t come back at all? On the other hand, he had a pleasant manner, he spoke beautifully and she was guessing from the glint in his eye that he had a great head for numbers. There was no point in looking to anyone else for reassurance. Every eye was fixed on the table as each woman searched her heart.

  Martin Duffy broke the silence. ‘I know it isn’t comfortable. No one’s been less comfortable than I have. A third of the men in this country chose not to go to war and they all had their reasons. You mightn’t agree with mine but the fact that I’m a man of principle must carry some weight with you. If it doesn’t …’

  Pearl scanned the faces for a consensus but found none. ‘Please leave the room, Mr Duffy. We’ll vote. It will need to be unanimous.’ As the door closed behind him, she said, ‘Hands up he stays.’ She raised her own hand as Maggie raised hers.

  Louisa said, ‘Of course he must stay. He’s only just arrived.’

  His fate rested with Adelaide, who asked herself, Man of principle, or coward? How could she tell? Did she need to vote for King and Country or could she vote for her own salvation? ‘I would like to abstain,’ she said cleverly. So, Pearl called him back into the room and proceeded to outline the problems that beset the ladies as she understood them, knowing, without admitting it to herself, that she had allowed her heart to rule her head exactly as Annie McGuire had. She supported him for reasons that had nothing to do with competence, manliness or a way with horses, so her plan was this: to keep him under her thumb.

  ‘There,’ she said in conclusion. ‘We’re all in strife and we’re relying on you to get us out of it.’ He nodded. ‘I suggest that you make a friend of Mr Stokes because he is at the root of Mrs Nightingale’s problem. Also that you visit Maggie at home so you can meet her boys. But first of all, I’m going to ask you to come with me to the railway because I have very urgent business there and I have been advised I won’t be safe going by myself.’

  ‘The railway?’ he repeated dumbly and Louisa cried, ‘Just a minute. What about me?’

  ‘Blackmail is beyond my area of competence,’ Pearl said. ‘I’m sure Mr Duffy will come up with something.’ She turned to Mr Duffy. ‘If you’re trying to find a missing returned soldier, the railway is the most obvious place to look. Men come from all over the country looking for work and I bet there are men on the run and men wanting to hide among them. If you drive, we can take a car.’ He didn’t drive. ‘Then we can ride. I’m not much of a horsewoman but I’m game.’ He was less game.

  ‘You can take our sulky,’ said Adelaide.

  ‘Can you handle a sulky, Mr Duffy?’ He could, which was a huge relief even to those who were thinking that Pearl was putting her own needs before everyone else’s in a way that wasn’t acceptable and what did she know about the railway when she had never discussed it with any of them as far as they could recall?

  Pearl tore a page from her book and handed it to him. ‘All the jobs we need you to do are urgent but we have to start somewhere. Read this and when you’ve thought it over, we can talk about the best way to proceed.’ She looked to the others. ‘Agreed?’ And what could they do but agree? She was so sure o
f herself.

  Martin Duffy stood. ‘That’s clear enough. I’ll go to my room and then I think I’ll have my dinner at the pub if no one minds. I’ll be tossing it all over the whole time I’m there, don’t you worry about that.’

  Chapter Twenty

  They waited for the door to close on his room then Pearl suggested a quick walk. Beyond that, not a single word was uttered until they were clear of the house and beyond the paddock with heaven only knew how many horses in it. They all had opinions and complaints spilling from their brains into their mouths but there was no way of knowing if the man had miraculous hearing and an ill-considered remark might cause him to pack and leave before they had time to decide what they thought.

  It wasn’t until they were accosted by Maisie Jenkins, who appeared to be counting the horses, that they were obliged to make some kind of noise. Even then, Mrs Jenkins required less in the way of responsive noises than she did of sympathetic nodding. She needed to tell them in as many words as possible that she was craving fresh air because the air in her house was thick with her husband’s snoring and the smell of last night’s beer on his breath. She needed to admire baby Freddie, who was as good as gold this morning, wasn’t he, but most of the time, she knew Adelaide wouldn’t mind her saying, he did have a pair of lungs on him, didn’t he? When she eventually did move on, it was only inches. She stopped almost at once to remark to Pearl, ‘Must be nice having your cousin visit. Where’s he from?’

  ‘Sydney,’ said Pearl.

  ‘No, I meant in Ireland. Where’s he from in Ireland?’

  ‘Dublin,’ said Pearl. ‘My family is from Tipperary but most of them are from Dublin.’

  ‘And Cork,’ Maggie reminded her. ‘Some of you are from Cork.’ It was an odd exchange, odd enough to make Mrs Jenkins’ morning anyway.

  The ladies were obliged to contain themselves until they were squashed tightly on the bench by the river. Then the tensions that had been simmering rose to boiling and were given voice. Mostly by Louisa. ‘I don’t know what prompted you to arrive so early, Maggie. It was ridiculous. And what on earth are you wearing?’

  ‘Just wanted to be on the safe side,’ Maggie replied uncomfortably.

  ‘What safe side?’ Louisa asked hotly. ‘Be very careful, Miss, with your insinuations.’

  ‘No insinuation,’ Adelaide said quickly. ‘She just wanted to be on time.’

  ‘So you left your brothers alone for a good hour when they could have been setting fire to your house?’ Louisa smirked at Pearl, who pretended she hadn’t. ‘And why did you abstain, Adelaide? Because he’s a Catholic? Maggie’s Catholic and so, I believe, is Miss McCleary. You are a Catholic, aren’t you, Miss McCleary? If the question is do we want a Catholic coward for a part-time husband, then only Adelaide can answer it. No one else has no problem with it.’

  The challenge hung above the river like a very fat duck, unsure of its fate. If it dropped would it sink or just create an almighty splash? Why on earth Louisa should decide to pick a fight with a neighbour who had offered her kindness was beyond them. It was even beyond Louisa, who could hear her voice but seemed unable to stop it because it was giving vent to sorrow and anger and heartbreak and rejection.

  ‘I don’t care that he’s Catholic,’ Adelaide said sharply. ‘I care that he might be a shirker. It’s cold here. I’m really cold. Is Freddie well rugged up, Miss McCleary?’ Sink without trace, went the fat duck. ‘The point is do we think he’s going to be up to the job? Does he have a head for figures? He didn’t answer that.’

  ‘Anyone’s will be better than yours,’ said Louisa. ‘No offence. I’m sure we can trust him.’ She was both remembering and putting aside his caution of the night before. It showed respect. It hardly meant he didn’t find her attractive. She knew he did. He had a way of smiling at her that was common to all men who found her attractive, which was all men.

  Pearl sighed, troubled by her conscience. ‘Let’s give him two weeks. Let’s see how much headway he can make in two weeks.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Louisa. ‘You want him to find your fiancé, I need him to catch some blackmailers, Adelaide wants him to prove Mr Stokes is a thief and Maggie needs him to be a father to her brothers. We all need him to fix up our houses. Not even a man twice his size could manage it.’ And they might have debated all morning the importance of muscle plus manliness, the meaning of urgent and the nature of time, but the breeze from the mountain was far too sharp and, really, what would it have achieved?

  ‘Let’s see how he gets on with Mr Stokes,’ Pearl suggested.

  ‘And the hen house,’ Maggie agreed, which was the very conclusion Martin Duffy might have reached himself had he been paying proper attention to Pearl’s list. He was staring at it in the privacy of his room, not absorbing its contents but getting the drift. Because it was cold and there was no fire in his grate, he was lying fully clothed on the bed, definitely a slender man, definitely a man used to being admired, possibly a vain man, but not a mean man. There was no meanness in his face.

  From appearances, you might have imagined him being able to master a bit of house painting and possibly summon a few polite questions, but could he pass for a man who would chase down blackmailers and missing persons? A sensible observer, eyeing him on his bed, would have said, forget it. That observer would have watched as he roused himself, brushed himself down, examined himself in the mirror provided for shaving, and cringed as he winked at himself. Was it a sly wink, a cunning wink or just the usual wink of a man alone with his reflection? He looked at his watch, straightened his tie and left the house, jaunty as you like, untroubled apparently by the demands, preoccupied by thoughts no more complicated than lunch at the pub and the cheeky girl behind the bar.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Louisa breathed in his smell when she unlocked the door to let herself in and her heart leapt. It wasn’t a large smell. It was a coat smell, an unfamiliar-soap smell and possibly a something-for-his-hair smell, a man smell. How different the house felt. How much better than it had when Martin Duffy was only expected. It had a more occupied air, a greater sense of purpose and it hummed with heady possibilities. This is what a man in your life can do. A good-looking man too. A man at ease with himself.

  Any wonder silly little Maggie was throwing herself at him. Louisa didn’t doubt that Adelaide and even Pearl were as aware of his charms as she was. But he was living under her roof and, frankly, if it came to a contest, she by far had the most to offer. It was to his credit that he hadn’t wanted to drink himself silly on the night he arrived. He wasn’t unduly boastful or optimistic. He had the stoic manner of someone prepared to try and fail, the opposite when she thought about it of poor dead Jimmy, who’d embraced every day with unwarranted confidence. What’s more, Mr Duffy’s gaze contained the lively interest of a man who understood things, women in particular.

  It was a pleasant reverie and one she might have continued to enjoy had she not heard her gate open and close. She looked out of the window and saw only the fleeting shape of someone running for all they were worth back towards town. She walked slowly to the front door and even more slowly to the gate. The figure had vanished but it didn’t matter. She could think of no one’s it resembled more than Ginger Albright’s.

  A note had been crammed hastily into the letterbox. Buyer willing to proceed. Seven shillings and sixpence per item less costs, it said. She hurried back into the house to the kitchen sink and vomited into it. Oh Lord, her poor stomach. Nerves were getting the better of her. If they didn’t improve with Martin in residence, she’d need to take something for them.

  Across the road, where Pearl and Adelaide folded bed linen, the reveries were less reassuring. Mrs Nightingale Junior was feeling increasingly tricked and anxious and fearful. The part-time husband she’d hoped would be her saviour might well be pleasant but what use was pleasant? Any minute now, Marcus would ask what the housekeeper’s cousin was doing at Louisa’s. Any minute someone would think it odd that
he wasn’t staying at the pub. What on earth was she doing in such a harebrained scheme with an O’Connell and a lying, scheming Louisa Worthington who’d been astonishingly rude this morning? She shot Pearl, who’d plainly misled her, a look so loaded with suspicion a lesser housekeeper might have buckled.

  Pearl continued to fold and smooth as if folding and smoothing were her joy, but she was as full of regret as was Adelaide. What on earth was she doing in a Protestant household so riddled with bigotry? And why on earth did she imagine she could rely on women she barely knew to keep secret the mission she was on, to save the life of a Catholic, when their own Protestant concerns were overwhelming them? Any minute Adelaide might ruin everything by denouncing Martin Duffy as an Irish traitor, brought to the community by a housekeeper with criminal connections. What was Annie doing sending her Martin Duffy, a fool of a boy from Cork or Dublin who’d never tried very hard at anything and who’d survived on the goodwill of others? A lesser orphan would have cursed the woman who’d raised her but Pearl loved Annie with all her heart. The nuns had said, ‘No one wants her.’ But Annie had taken her in just as she’d taken in other children, some for a few weeks, others for months. Beattie had been with Annie for two years now. Pearl loved Beattie like a sister and she loved Annie like a mother and so she would soldier on for them. She placed the final sheet onto a pile she would shortly iron and said, ‘We have to remind ourselves why he’s here. We need him, or if not him, someone like him.’

  ‘What if he does more harm than good?’ said Adelaide.

  ‘We’ll get rid of him before he does. For the time being, he’s here and we need to stick together and make the best of it.’

  Which, at that very moment, is what the Mayor was saying to his wife, who replied, ‘I’ve always stuck with you, George. Now it’s your turn to stick with me. I gave Maggie O’Connell her job back. You know what you have to do for me.’ She left the house without explanation, to meet who knew whom, to say to them God alone knew what, and for what hideous outcome Christ only knew.