He now placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face as he said, ‘You’re taking something on, aren’t you? And, you know, you should still be at school?’
‘Oh, Carl, I’m at school every morning. History, geography, arithmetic, English. She…she keeps me on such childish things, Carl. If she knew of the books that I look at in the Hall library, she’d have a fit.’
He laughed now as he asked, ‘What kind of books?’
‘Oh, all kinds, about gods and goddesses. And then there’s stories, marvellous stories. You could spend days reading the stories. But I hardly ever get one finished, because I can’t stay long enough.’ She now turned from him and walking towards a saddle hanging on the wall, she stroked the leather for a moment as she said, ‘I’ll never live in that house across the yard, Carl. Although he’s gone I feel he’s still there. You know what I’d do with it?’ She swung round to him. ‘Set fire to it and make it into a sort of funeral pyre like they used to do in Egypt and put it on his grave.’
‘Oh. Oh, Janie, you shouldn’t think things like that. Oh, my dear.’
‘I do think things like that, Carl. I hated him when he was alive and I can’t stop hating him now because he’s dead. And another thing, whichever one was my father he couldn’t have been as bad as he was, not so cruel, so cold. He hated me because of what those men did to my mother and I was the result. But they only did that to my mother because he’d had a woman put in an asylum, the sister of one of them.’
‘Shh! Shh!’ He had her by the shoulders again. ‘You shouldn’t think about it. You shouldn’t talk about it. And anyway, she was put in the asylum because she had done very wrong things to your grandfather. She had, in a way, killed your grandmother. Now there’s two ways of looking at this matter. You should try to see the reason for your grandfather’s actions.’
‘I…I experienced his reactions, Carl. I…I knew there was something wrong with me right back when I was a child and had to be locked in the cottage. And…and I wanted to be loved and’—she now bit on her lip—‘Auntie Jessie’s love was a different kind. I can’t explain it. She was always saying she loved me then doing hard things.’
‘She had her reasons, too, dear; she was trying to protect you.’
‘Oh well’—she now flung her arms wide—‘it doesn’t matter any more, well not much. I’m me, and I’ve known I’m me for a long time. I’m…I’m different from others. I know I am. Yet—’ Her expression now changed to one of slight pleasurable surprise as she said, ‘One of the girls from the village spoke to me the other day. Do you remember me telling you about the ones I went boo! to? Well, she was the tallest one. She was by herself on the road when she half stopped and spoke to me.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said, “Hello”, and I was so surprised that I didn’t answer. And then she said, “Isn’t it cold?” And I said, yes, it was. And then she said, “Goodbye”, and I said, “Goodbye”.’
‘When was this?’ His voice was low now.
‘Oh, the day before yesterday.’
Well, well! Could it be with the passing of the thorn in the villagers’ flesh that their attitude would change towards the child and she would be finally accepted? But would she want to be accepted? Did they but know it, they were dealing with someone as strong-willed as ever her grandfather had been; only there would be no vindictiveness in her strength.
She was saying now, ‘If…if Lady Lydia decides to take on a man, would you…on the quiet, come and check him over for her? I mean, to tell us that he was capable of hard work and was of good character?’
He now put his two fingers to his forehead and flicked his hair back, saying, ‘At your service, ma’am. Any time, at your service, with no charge.’
As she laughingly pushed at him so he put his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment; and he, laughing too, said, ‘Any time you want help, my dear, you come to me, and it won’t cost you a penny.’ And now they were pushing at each other, their laughters mingled. And Mike, passing by in the yard outside heard the laughter and, as he remarked to the others, he had never heard such a gay sound in this yard since he first came into it.
Five
‘We’ve made seventy-four pounds out of the fruit and jams this year, and there’s still a month to go to Christmas.’
‘Yes, my dear.’ Lady Lydia nodded at Janie. ‘But that’s only because Carl has been so kind as to loan us his transport and a driver. And we can’t expect to take advantage of him again at Christmas and…’
‘It isn’t taking advantage, and he likes helping. It takes his mind off…well, Patsy’s going. He’s still mourning her, I think, and it’s now over seven months. Anyway, he said we’ve just got to ask him. And so with the money that you’ve got, you could take this man on. It would be a start.’
‘It would mean buying extra food, my dear, and men eat a lot. And then he’d have to have a wage, and I read that some of them are demanding two pounds a week.’
‘I think this one would be glad to take anything. And anyway, as Carl once told me, it comes down by practically half if they have bed and board.’
‘But where’s the bed, my dear? Those rooms above the stables have never been used for years. They are dank and…’
‘If a man has been a soldier he’s used to sleeping on anything, I should say. In any case, we could soon fix that up; in fact, he would fix it up himself, I think. And this one’s young and strong-looking, not like some of the older ones that come begging. But his shoes are in holes. They must be because one sole is loose. I noticed that.’
Lady Lydia sighed as she said, ‘What don’t you notice, my dear? But there is another thing: I don’t think I would be able to cope with labour; I mean, giving orders and seeing that they do their work. And, you know, I’m away a day or more in every week now that Gerald is closer to home.’
‘Well, I’m not afraid of giving orders.’
Lady Lydia chuckled as she said, ‘No, you certainly are not. But you are still a very young girl for all your height and all your’—now she wagged her finger at the tall girl standing at her knee—‘for all your height and for all your talk you are still a young girl. And that’s how men would see you.’
‘Not for long they wouldn’t.’
Lady Lydia’s chuckle became louder as she said, ‘You’re an awful child, you know.’
‘I know I am. But, Lady Lydia, I don’t feel a child. I can’t remember ever feeling a child.’
The smile went from the older woman’s face and her voice was soft as she said, ‘That is a great pity.’
‘No, it isn’t, because I’m able to see things that so-called girls don’t. I mean…well, I’m not silly.’
‘No’—there was a chuckle again—‘you’re far from that. Well now, to get back to the business that I don’t want to take on. I think we had better take advantage of Carl once more and ask him to come and vet this applicant of yours, because he’s not mine.’
‘Well, you’ll have to pay him.’
‘Yes, I’ll have to pay him, but you will have to oversee his labour. You say you have stopped your lessons in the mornings?’
‘Oh yes, some time back. Well, ever since Patsy went, because Auntie Jessie is taken up with re-doing the house inside.’
‘But she still lives in the cottage? I mean, you both live in the cottage?’
‘I told you, didn’t I? I would never live in that house. She might. Oh, yes’—she nodded now—‘she might sometime.’
‘Well, away with you! and ask Mr Carl if he can spare the time to come and see me; then, if he finds that the man is suitable, you will have to take him and show him where he’s supposed to sleep, and that will likely turn him away.’
‘Not by the look of him, it won’t.’ She bent slightly forward now and placed a light kiss on Lady Lydia’s cheek, whispering as she did so, ‘I love you.’ Then, as any young girl might, so she acted and ran from the room, with Lady Lydia sitting shaking her head as s
he wondered, for the hundredth time, what she would have done without her. And yet, she thought, if it hadn’t been for Janie, Gerald would have come back with her two months ago. During that visit, while she sat talking to him, she had happened to say that Janie now practically lived in the house, except that she didn’t sleep there, and that her bright personality lit up the whole place.
For some weeks up to then he had been talking to her slowly and sensibly. But on that day, as they were sitting in the garden, he had one of his choking fits. It wasn’t one that would need attention, but it was a signal that he was distressed. And when later he had calmed down he had said to her, ‘If…if I ever come back, it…it won’t be to the house. I…I don’t want to see anyone.’ He had then brought his face close to hers to say slowly but somewhat aggressively, ‘Do…you…understand, Mama? No-one! When…when I come back it will be to the cottage…the woodman’s cottage…alone, or else…I don’t come…at all.’
So vehement were his words that they were still imprinted on her mind.
When, later, she had spoken to the doctor about him, he had said she could take him home at any time. He might still be withdrawn and not want company, but it would be better if he had an occupation of some kind. And yes, there was no reason why he should stay any longer, unless he wanted to. He wouldn’t press him either to go or to stay. And then he had smiled as he said, ‘You could say he is one of our successful cases. Would there were more like him.’
But the very thought of putting Janie out of her life was unbearable to her, as was the thought of her son existing in the woodman’s cottage that was again entangled in the undergrowth.
Dear, dear! She felt old and tired. She would be seventy next year, and what had she done with her life? Her marriage of convenience in order to have a child; and what a child! One who had been driven out of his mind because of his sense of moral right.
The house seemed dead. Yet since her father’s death she had worked on it daily, returning it to something like its former state and even better: replacing curtains and covers, moving furniture around, even getting rid of some, such as the bed in her father’s room and the one in the room which she had once shared with Angela. She hadn’t replaced either bed. Carl slept in one of the two spare bedrooms. She herself still slept in the cottage; and that simply because of Janie’s stubbornness.
At the moment the kitchen was empty, for Mrs McNabb left with the men at five o’clock, at least in the winter. However, one or other of the men would return at half past six to help with the last of the chores. But now it was six o’clock and there was nobody here in the house, or in the cottage, or on the farm. Carl had gone across to the Hall to look over a man her ladyship was about to engage, a man to do the clearing, so went Janie’s garbled story.
Jessie walked into the hall, at the moment lit by the hanging gas lamp, then made her way along the corridor to the room that had once been her father’s study, then later Patsy’s and Carl’s bedroom, but which was now a small and comfortable sitting room. The fire was low in the grate but she did not immediately tend to it. She stood with her hands on the mantelpiece and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It was long, white and drawn. She was thirty-three years old and she told herself that if she were to meet a woman who looked like her reflection, she would say she was forty at least. She had never been beautiful. Carl had once promised her beauty when she grew up, but that was only through kindness. All the beauty had gone to Angela, only to be marred, broken and wasted. Her life, too, had been wasted.
When there was no hope of her ever having Carl, she had grabbed at the child who had been born of cruelty as something on whom to shower her love and to receive love in return. But it hadn’t happened like that. The measures she had had to take to confine the child had killed the return of love that she might have had from her. And now she had lost her. Oh, she had lost her a long time ago: to that man first, and then his mother, and now to the house itself…And what about Carl? It looked as if it was going to be the repeat of her father’s story, for he had hugged his mourning to himself as if all the while embracing his lost love. And Carl seemed to be following the same route, for he never spoke of Patsy. He was civil and kind to her, but so were the paid hands.
She had a terrifying thought of him going into Newcastle and seeing a poster of a dancer on a billboard, as her father was said to have done, and falling madly in love with the girl it represented, maniacally in love with her, just as her father’s loving had not been sane. Yes, the same thing could happen to Carl, for twice during the last three weeks he had been into Newcastle and never mentioned the errand he had been on.
If he were to take another wife she would go mad. Yes, she would, she would go mad. She nodded into the mirror. She would go back into that cottage and lock herself in and she would go the same way as Angela had.
The gas mantle on the bracket to the right of her went plop, plop, plop, and the glass shade seemed to shiver, as did her reflection in the mirror, only this was shaking its head and its mouth was open, denying her last thoughts, saying, No! No! What was she thinking?
When the tears spurted from her eyes she looked upwards for a moment and whispered aloud, ‘O Lord, I am so lost, so lonely. Whatever happens, don’t let me do anything silly, please.’ She could no longer see her reflection in the mirror and her throat was full; and she was about to turn away when she heard footsteps coming along the corridor, and almost in a panic now she dropped onto her knees, grabbed the tongs up from the hearth and began to take lumps of coal from the brass helmet bucket at the end of the fender. And when the door opened she did not turn around as Carl said, ‘Oh! There you are. I’ve just taken Janie to the cottage. She’ll make a farmer one of these days. Anyway, the fella seems all right and he was more than willing to take on the job for a pound a week and his grub. He didn’t turn a hair when he saw the condition of those rooms above the stables, even seeming to like what he saw and said that he would soon have one shipshape. And he kept thanking me, and I told him it wasn’t me he should thank but the young lady.’
He stopped now and watched Jessie plying the bellows until she had kindled a flame among the coals again. And when she still didn’t speak or turn round, he bent over her, saying, ‘What’s the matter? Are you all right?’
He could just make out the mumbling, ‘I’m all right.’ But when she pulled herself up from the hearth and did not turn towards him, he took her arm and pulled her gently round to face him. And he stood staring at her bent head, her face awash with tears and it was some seconds before he said gently, ‘What is it, Jessie?’
She now pulled herself away from his hold and, grabbing at the lawn waist-apron she was wearing over her woollen dress, she rubbed her face vigorously with it, but still she didn’t speak.
Again he took hold of her, both shoulders this time, and made her face him; and when, looking up at him, she mumbled, ‘I’m sorry. I…I can’t help it. I…I just felt so lost, the house, everything. Nobody here. Lonely. I…I seemed to have been born to be lonely. I…I have lost Janie and…’ She couldn’t bring herself to lie and say, ‘Patsy, too,’ because she had known for a long time that Patsy was nearing her end, and although she had grown fond of her over the years, she could not help but think and hope what her going would mean: she would have Carl once more. He…he would be bound to turn to her, if only for sympathy. But he hadn’t, he didn’t need her sympathy. And now she blurted out, ‘You…you hardly ever speak…you…you don’t know I’m alive.’
‘Oh, Jessie, Jessie.’ He brought one hand now and cupped her wet cheek and his voice was thick and low in his throat as he said, ‘I know you’re alive, dear. I know you’re alive, only too well. But…but it’s early days…I mean…well, you know I cared deeply for Patsy and…and I have missed her. But I’ve known of late you can’t live with the dead for ever. And she…she wouldn’t want that, she told me she didn’t. The last thing she said to me was’—his own voice was throaty now—‘“Be happy and don’t be lonely.
No…nobody should live alone,” she said.’ He did not add, ‘She knew how you felt for me and always had done,’ because he had immediately reacted by saying, ‘Never ever! I’ll never put anyone in your place.’ And she had smiled at him and said that her mother had a saying: the heart has a number of rooms.
He went on now, saying, ‘It’s seven months. I…I would have made it easier for myself if I had been able to talk about her to you, but somehow I…I couldn’t make an opening. D’you know what? Twice lately I’ve been into Newcastle and got blind drunk, but it didn’t help.’
The tears were still running down her cheeks but more slowly now, and he took out a handkerchief, and as he wiped her face he said, ‘We’ll take it from here, eh, Jessie?’ to which she answered, ‘Yes, Carl.’ Then the meaning of his words and the tender look in his eyes as he had said them acted like the bursting of a dam.
And now her whole body was shaking and her sobbing was audible and he was holding her to him, and it was as if he was back in that bedroom all those years ago and asking if he could hold her. In some strange way she had belonged to him from then on. Even the beautiful Angela couldn’t displace her in his affection, although she was never convinced of this. But then there came Patsy. Dear, dear Patsy. But now Patsy was no more, and he was holding that woman that had been the child, and he knew that he must go on holding her, for she had indeed been his from the day she was born.
Six
Lady Lydia looked at the tall young girl standing before her. She was wearing a long, mole-coloured velour coat, with a fur collar. A green velour hat completed the outfit, the whole seeming to complement the face and the two deep brown eyes set in wide sockets and outlined by curved eyebrows. The nose was small in contrast to the wide mouth, and the hair framing the whole and covering the ears held a deeper tinge than the eyes, and it was drawn back and lay in a bun under the rim of the hat. The face had no claim to beauty nor could it be called pretty, but it was arresting. The eyes alone would hold the onlooker, as would the rest of her: the way she stood, the pose of her head, the chin tilted forward, created a picture that would draw the eye and hold it, for the whole expressed a vivid personality.
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