‘Eeh, your Aunt Mary! She’s a one. She’d bring a guffaw from a corpse, wouldn’t she?’ And now he asked, ‘Where do you want to go first, back home?…I’ve tidied it up as much as I can. They’ve nearly battered the furniture to bits but it’s all clean. Or shall we go to that place just off the market and treat ourselves to brown bread an’ mussels, an’ a drop of brown ale?’
‘Oh yes, Da, yes I’d like that. I used to pass it often but I’ve never been inside…Oh, I’d like that.’
‘Then come on, lass, let’s enjoy oursels.’
The following morning their plans for the day were brought to an abrupt end when, at eight o’clock, John, roused from a deep and sober sleep by a knock on the door, opened it to one of his shipmates who gave him the news that they were signing on again that morning because the boat was being moved to the London docks to pick up its next cargo.
When John came back up the stairs Emily was waiting for him, and when he told her his news, the disappointment showing on his face, she said, ‘Well, don’t worry, Da, at least about me. You’d be happier aboard, now wouldn’t you?’
‘Aye, lass, I suppose I would in a way. Aye, I would.’
‘Well then, let’s get some breakfast and off you go.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me?’ She considered for a moment. ‘I think I’ll do what I’ve promised meself for years, I’ll go and have a look round Newcastle. Me Aunt Mary’s always talking about the fine shops there. And I’ll buy everything I set me eyes on.’
‘Aye, do that. Do that. And I’ll give you somethin’ to help you do it.’
‘You won’t.’
‘But I will.’
‘Oh you, Da!’
‘Oh you, Emily!’
They both laughed; then, her laughter ending abruptly she threw herself against him and he hugged her tightly to him.
Having said goodbye to her father at half past nine, she didn’t linger in the house; for more reasons than one. Not only did she imagine she could still smell Alice Broughton there, but, although her father had done his best to tidy up the place, to her eyes it still looked dirty. And then there were the neighbours. She knew that by now the whole street would know she had come back; that she would be a thing of curiosity. Hadn’t she been in the papers? Moreover, it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if they were aware that she was living with a man who had thought himself married and found he wasn’t. And so, by half past ten she was sitting in the train bound for Newcastle.
Today, the weather was kind; the sun was shining and there was hardly any wind. She found it a pleasure in itself to be able to walk without being buffeted by the wind. And then there were the wonders of Newcastle: the buildings, the churches, the monuments. She had never seen anything like them. In an odd way she felt a bit put out that Newcastle should look so much finer than Shields. But then Shields was home, and it was a canny place and this town hadn’t that feeling about it. Grand yes, almost overpoweringly grand. Look at that statue on top of that pillar. Earl Grey, it said. And then there was the Theatre Royal, and Grey Street. And the markets, covered in! They were amazing.
By one o’clock she was slightly footsore, and more than slightly bemused by the size and grandeur of the imposing shops. So she took to the side streets, looking for a place, not swanky, where she could get a meal.
Going up one such side street, where the shops were smaller, but mostly jewellers and clothiers, there right in the middle of the street over a very unimposing window was the word RESTAURANT. The window had a sort of lace curtain across it so she couldn’t see into the place, but it was a restaurant and somewhere she could eat, so she went in, and immediately she had closed the door behind her and a ‘gentleman’ in a black suit came towards her she realised she had made a mistake.
The ‘gentleman’ looked at her for a moment while she dumbly returned his stare, then he said, ‘Will you come this way, madam?’ And he now bowed to her as if she were somebody, and she managed to keep her head up and her back straight as she followed him in and out of a number of small tables at which mostly gentlemen were seated.
The waiter, for such he was she now recognised, pulled out a chair in front of a small table set in the corner of the room and invited her to sit down; and then he spread a napkin over her knees and offered her a large folded card.
She looked at the card. It merely described the meals that were being offered. Heading the list was roast sirloin; but she pretended to peruse the whole list of dishes, thinking that this was the kind of place he would have come to, even if he didn’t feel at home. But his wife would have felt at home here. She gulped slightly in her throat before looking up at the waiter and saying, ‘I would like the roast beef please.’
‘Would madam like a soup to begin with? And the fillet of sole is very good today.’
She looked straight into his eyes as she said, ‘I’ll have the soup, but no fish, thank you.’
‘Very good, madam. Would…would madam care for a little wine?’
Her mouth opened to repeat the word wine, but she closed it, shook her head slightly and said, ‘No, thank you…’
As she ate the courses brought to her she kept her eyes concentrated mostly on the food. She was aware that her nails worn down to the quicks and the roughness of her hands could not have escaped the notice of the waiter, yet he continued to treat her as if she were a lady.
She was glad she was wearing the coat Larry had bought her. It was the first time she had put it on, and her hat was plain but decent.
Twice when she raised her eyes from her food it was to meet the gaze of gentlemen sitting at nearby tables. Two smiled faintly; one of them, when for the second time she happened to look in his direction, inclined his head just the slightest towards her, and this brought her colour flushing up so fiercely that she imagined her face to be aflame.
The lunch over, the waiter brought her bill. She almost gasped aloud as she looked at it. Seven shillings and sixpence. Seven shillings and sixpence? Her mother hadn’t had much more than that to feed them all for the week. Eeh! She had been a fool to walk into a place like this…No, she hadn’t. Why shouldn’t she walk into a place like this, eh? Why shouldn’t she? She knew how to pass herself; she knew how to use table cutlery, she had laid it often enough; the only thing she didn’t know was how to talk properly, but if she once put her mind to it she could do that an’ all—she was quick to pick things up; and so she wasn’t going to tell herself she had been a fool to come in here, and although she would never again pay seven and six for a meal she was doing it now, and she was going to do it properly.
She took the half sovereign that her father had given her from her bag and placed it on the salver with the bill. The waiter took it, came back and handed her the salver with the change on it, two single shillings and a sixpence.
He would expect a shilling by way of a tip; somebody mean might give him the sixpence. She looked up into his face, smiled at him and, pushing the salver gently away with her hand, said, ‘Please to keep it.’
The warm glow she experienced when she saw the man’s eyebrows move slightly upwards was compensation enough for her extravagance, and when his face moved slowly into a broad beam and he said softly but deeply, ‘Thank you…thank you, madam,’ she experienced a feeling almost of elation.
When she had buttoned the front of her coat and gathered up her bag his hand came onto her elbow and he assisted her from the chair, then weaving his way through the tables he preceded her to the door, and there, bowing deeply towards her, he said, ‘Good day, madam. I hope we may see you again.’
She moved her head slightly towards him, and went out into the street. Her head was high, but her knees were trembling. She had just been treated like a duchess. For the first time in her life she had been deferred to. Oh, of course, there had been Sep, but this was different. This is what money did for you, it made people respect you. Not always. Not always. The voice was loud in her head as she remembered that all the money L
arry had once had, or thought he had, hadn’t brought him respect. Well, she wouldn’t delve into that now, but back there in that restaurant she had been treated as she had never been treated in her life before. Moreover, she felt glad inside, and that was a feeling she hadn’t experienced for a long, long time.
She had the urge to skip, she felt a lass again—no, not a lass, she laughingly chided herself inside, a young woman…a lady. Madam…fancy being called madam.
She let out a long breath, her head came down from its high position; she wished, oh, she wished she had someone to talk to, to go over the whole scene again from the minute she had stepped over the threshold…in boots mind. She looked down at her boots. Had he noticed her boots? He must certainly have noticed her hands. And those men, they had kept smiling at her. They had noticed her.
Not for a long time had she felt so bonny. Once or twice Larry had said she was beautiful, but somehow it had meant nothing for what she had wanted to hear at those times was that he loved her. But now she was feeling bonny.
She stopped in front of a shop window towards the end of the street. It was a jeweller’s. She could see her reflection against a large square of black velvet reposing on a tilted shelf in the middle of the window and it told her that from the way she was looking at this moment she was indeed bonny.
But as she stared into the black velvet the smile slowly left her face; her eyes crinkled. She now leant forward until her nose was pressed against the plate glass window. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. But it was; there couldn’t be two like it. There was her watch, her watch that Mr Tooton had sold for her. There it was. But was she going daft? She must be, or the light was mixing up the figures. She moved to the side, her nostril now almost flat against the window…Four hundred and twenty-five guineas.
No, no, it couldn’t be her watch. But it was. It was. There was the red stone in the top near the pin and the white stones all down each side of the gold strap and the row of blue stones down the middle, and her little watch hanging from the end with the smaller stones around it. She had looked at that watch every night and every morning since Sep had given it to her. It was her watch.
She stood straight and turned her head from side to side now; she felt faint. What should she do? What could she do? If she went into the shop and told them the story, what would they say to her? They would ask how she had come into possession of a watch such as this, worth four hundred and twenty-five guineas; and then she would have to tell them about Sep and how he got it, and they would say he had stolen it.
Oh, Mr Tooton. Mr Tooton.
She felt sick inside. She had trusted Mr Tooton; she had thought he was a nice man, a good man. She could see now why he had left the firm and gone away. Oh yes, yes. Were there any honest people in the world? Were there any good people in the world? Oh. She turned to the window, putting her two hands flat against it as she whispered to herself, ‘That’s my watch, my watch.’
She heard a bell tinkle to the side of her as the jeweller’s door opened and she turned her head quickly, then stared at the man who was staring at her. It was him from the house.
Now, as if she had been waiting for him, as if he had just left her to go into the shop, she spoke to him or rather gabbled at him as she pointed through the window to the square of black velvet and the object lying on it. ‘You see that!’ she said. ‘You see that! Four hundred and twenty-five guineas. That’s my watch. That’s my watch!’ Her voice was rising.
He was standing close by her side now, staring at the watch. Then he looked at her and said, ‘Are you feeling all right?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m all right, but that’s my watch.’
He took her arm in an effort to draw her away from the window but she tugged it from him, and turning to face him, she said, ‘I’m not daft or anything. I’m not out of me mind. That’s my watch. I gave it to Mr Tooton to sell for me. He was the clerk to the solicitors who did your business and Larry’s. He came and took over, like the bums, you know, until Larry got out of the house. He was a nice man.’ Slowly now she moved her head from side to side, uttering no word as she did so; then she drew in a deep breath and went on, ‘At least…at least I thought he was. I knew it was valuable an’ I asked him to sell it for me because, you see, if I went to sell it…Oh’—she shook her head again quickly now—‘it’s a long story. But he sent the money to me Aunt Mary’s. Twenty pounds he sent me; he said that’s all he got for it. And…and then he left the firm and ran off, or went off…’ Her voice trailed away.
He was looking at her differently now, and when he turned his head and stared at the watch lying in its nest of black velvet she gripped his arm and said, ‘You believe me?’
‘Yes, yes.’ His tone was sharp, his face serious, as he answered, ‘Yes, yes, I believe you. But come…come, let’s find somewhere to sit down and talk. There’s a restaurant farther along the street.’
When he went to take her arm she shrugged his hand away, saying, ‘No, no, I’ve just been there, I’ve had something to eat.’
‘Oh!’ His face showed slight surprise. ‘Then there’s a churchyard just along here with seats at the back, let us go there.’
He had almost to drag her away from the window, and when they reached the back of the church and were seated on a wooden bench she leant forward and put her hands between her knees, pressing them tightly as she said, ‘’Tisn’t only the watch, it’s him. To do that to me! And I liked him; I thought he was such a good man.’
‘Perhaps he was in great need himself, and you never know what you’ll do when faced with a situation like that.’
‘You’re for him?’ She was glaring at him now.
‘No, no, I’m not for him, and if I had him here now I’d want to knock whatever money he got for the watch out of him, although’—he shook his head and smiled wryly—‘I made a vow once never to lift my hand to a man again as long as I lived, yet as I said, when one is tempted…’
She turned and looked down at her hands again as she repeated, ‘Four hundred and twenty-five guineas.’
‘He wouldn’t get that price for it; the jewellers expect a big profit, and especially when buying something as unusual as that, because it isn’t everybody who can afford four hundred and twenty-five guineas. Although there are some very rich men in Newcastle, and no doubt their ladies dress magnificently, they wouldn’t be in the habit of paying that price for a fob watch.’
‘A what watch?’
‘Fob watch, that’s what it’s called, a fob watch.’
‘Oh.’ Her head wagged a number of times.
‘Would you like to tell me how you came by it?’ His voice was quiet.
She didn’t answer immediately but straightened up and lay back against the seat; then slowly and dully she related the story of Sep and the watch. And he listened until the end without interruption, but when he did speak it wasn’t about the watch. What he said was, ‘The man Sep, he must have thought a great deal of you.’
Sep. She cast her glance towards him, then turned it back onto the grey stone buttress attached to the wall at the far end of the path from where they were sitting, and in a strange way she likened it to Sep, because Sep had been strong. He would always have supported her, and she would have liked that, felt safe in his keeping. Even after discovering what marriage was all about, she would still in a way have been happy, encircled by his strength. Now, she had only herself to rely on, and she had to gather enough strength to support two people.
‘He was a good man,’ she said, ‘caring. You know what I mean?’ She was looking at him again. ‘He was much older than me, thirty-five.’
‘Thirty-five. Dreadful age!’
She saw that he was smiling at her, and she gave a small smile in return as she said, lamely, ‘Well, it was a good age.’
‘You think so?’
‘He could have been my father.’
‘So could I.’
Her eyes widened slightly. ‘You’re not thirty-five!’
He l
aughed outright now. ‘George has a saying which is very explanatory. It’s…not a kick in the backside off; and I suppose you could say that about my age, I’m nearly thirty-five.’
‘Well, you don’t look it. And after what you went throu…’
She bit on her lip and shook her head and looked apologetically at him, but as he looked back at her the expression on his face had a gentle touch to it.
It might have been a matter of thirty seconds before he said quietly, ‘You’re the first one who has attempted to make any reference to my time in prison…’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Please…please’—his hand came out and touched hers—‘don’t be. It’s like opening the door of a room that has been closed for years, letting the breeze through. When people don’t mention it except with their eyes, as in the village and thereabouts’—he nodded his head slowly—‘I feel as if I’m still paying for what I did. It’s even worse than being in prison, because that time wasn’t all bad, at least not for me. I suppose I developed a way of looking at life and things that helped me through. It wasn’t the same for everybody, oh no.’ His head moved very slowly now as he repeated, ‘Oh no, it wasn’t the same for everybody.’
She realised that his hand was still lying on top of hers and that hers was resting on her knee. She knew she should withdraw it, because here they were in the open. Although this was a quiet corner of the churchyard they were still in the open, and there were people passing at the end of the path. But she didn’t withdraw it. It was something in his face, in his eyes, that made her let her hand remain where it was.
He was still talking and she had missed part of what he was saying because her mind had been on the hand business, but now she gave him her full attention for he was speaking of Larry …
‘Of the two of us, as I’ve said, he’s had the worse deal because, by all accounts and what I can piece together, she must have led him the hell of a life…and you, too.’
The Tide of Life Page 37