The Blind Miller

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Who did? You mean your father said that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Aye, well, I was taken aback. But just at the sight of him and the way he blurted it out. But I said straight off the bat that I wanted to marry you. I did, Sarah.’ He shook her arm once. ‘Believe me, I did.’

  ‘Your mother was there an’ all.’

  ‘Yes, she was there. She came into the hall.’

  Her head drooped lower as she put the question, ‘Did he raise the house?’

  ‘No.’ David’s voice was high. ‘No. He was very quiet; in fact, I thought he was most reasonable. If I hadn’t heard about him and was meeting him for the first time I would have thought he was a reasonable kind of man altogether. But things get about, you know, even as far as our end.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’ She had her head up now and was blinking away the still-running tears.

  ‘Well, when I opened the door…well, you see it was all so sudden. He said, “What’s this I hear about you going to marry my daughter?” And quite honestly I couldn’t say anything for the moment.’ He gripped her hands tightly and once again brought them to his chest. ‘He was putting into words something that’s never been out of my mind since I met you, but at that moment it was such a surprise I couldn’t say anything. And then he said, “Have you asked her?” It was then I sensed there was something wrong—I linked it up with what the boy said he was doing to your sister—so I said to him, “Will you come in?” And when he stood in the hall he repeated, “I asked you a question,” and to that I said, “Yes…yes, I’ve asked her to marry me.” It was then my mother joined us. He was very civil to her, very polite. He said, “I’ve just come round because my girl said that your son here asked her to marry him…”’

  ‘And your mother didn’t say anything did she?’ Sarah licked the tears from her lips. ‘She was so flabbergasted that she didn’t say anything, for she knew if you had asked me you would have told her.’

  ‘But listen, listen to me. I told her that I had asked you and that I was going to tell her…but later. I told her I had every intention of telling her and then bringing you round this evening for tea.’

  ‘But she didn’t believe you?’

  ‘Why do you keep saying that?’

  ‘Oh’—she screwed her body away from him, trying to pull her hands loose from his grip—‘I had it all word for word, nothing left out.’ She shook her head slowly now and the scene of last night returned to her with all its ignominy; it returned for its hundredth showing in the few hours since it had been enacted. She had been lying in bed with Phyllis when the door had been kicked open and he stood on the threshold yelling into the darkness. ‘Surprised to bloody death he was and frightened out of his bloody skin, an’ all. Oh yes, yes, he said, he had asked you…But he only said that because…because why? Because he knew I’d tell his mother what he’d bloody well been up to, an’ I was right. No bloke like him is gonna be taken for a ride up the aisle by the likes of you unless he’s gone in by the back door, you big-bellied sod, you!’

  The street had been quiet; there was no sound coming from the Youngs’ house or from the Radcliffes’, for they were all listening and would be able to hear without any straining of their ears, as would the neighbours down the road. And those who had missed anything would be given it in detail, she knew, before the sun shone without shadow tomorrow.

  Eternities of suffering later, when the flesh of her body seemed to have melted with shame and her large frame was twisted with the force of the humiliation that had beaten upon her, she heard the distant chimes of a clock, somewhere in the town, striking three. It was then that Phyllis, her own pain forgotten, her arms about her tightly, whispered, ‘Don’t let him take the gumption out of you. That’s what he’s after, to break your spirit, to have you crawl. You know why he’s goin’ for you, don’t you? It’s because he wants you himself.’

  Her crumpled body had shuddered and straightened itself as if by an electric shock. But Phyllis still held her and went on whispering, fiercely, ‘Me ma knows. What you want to do is to pack up an’ get away. Don’t think of how me ma’ll manage, he’ll have to stump up if there’s nobody here…You know something? He had three pounds in the lining of his waistcoat yesterda’ mornin’. He must have forgotten it, his waistcoat I mean, and left it on the chair downstairs. I went through the pockets when I was down early, and felt this paper in the lining. He’s been running for a bookie this week. I’d like to bet he’s got money tucked away somewhere…You stop worryin’ about me ma and get yourself out of this, our Sarah, because I’m going to…’

  ‘Sarah, look at me!’

  She looked at him, into the eyes that were soft and glowing with love and kindliness, and her heart was sick at what she was losing.

  ‘I love you, Sarah; I love you so much I just can’t find words or ways or means of telling you…Now answer me one thing. If when we were going home last night I had asked you to marry me what would you have said? Truthfully, Sarah, what would you have said?’

  ‘I’d…I’d have said yes.’

  ‘Because you love me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, that’s wonderful, wonderful. You know I just can’t understand what you see in me. I’ve no push, no go.’ He smiled. ‘If you had fallen for someone like our John it would have been understandable, but me! I’ll never be anything. I’m quite content to stay in my little rut until I die…that is as long as I have you.’

  He was changing the atmosphere, subtly threading it with the description of his own character, making it slightly jocular, ordinary; and under this influence her bones seemed to straighten and the flesh on them fill out again. Her whole being was becoming saturated in enervating relief. She wanted to slump forward onto him, lay her head on his shoulder and rest; that’s all she wanted to do for the moment, just rest. And then she thought of his mother. She wouldn’t be able to face his mother; his father and his uncle, yes, but not his mother. She said now with candour born of dead hope, ‘There’s your mother…I couldn’t face your mother, it’s no use.’

  ‘My mother!’ He screwed up his face until it looked comical. ‘Why, she’s the one who understands most. Look, Sarah.’ He had her by the shoulders now. ‘My mother wants me to marry you; there’s a particular reason why she wants me to marry you. I won’t tell you it now, but she wants it in spite of your father.’

  ‘My stepfather.’ It was the only thing left she had to be proud of, that there was no blood relation between her and Pat Bradley.

  ‘Your stepfather. I’m glad he’s your stepfather. Well, in spite of him and his barging in last night…although I maintain he came in quietly and left quietly; but in spite of all this she still wants me to marry you. You know, I think she’s taken to you. She doesn’t take to many people. She’s what you would term a close woman, reticent, difficult, but she’s been a very good mother, and, as I said, she’s taken to you. I know her so well, better than my brother; better, I think, than my father, and I can vouch for what I say. Now…’ He brought his hands from her shoulders to her cheeks, and, holding them, raised her face towards him. ‘We were going to Newcastle tonight, remember? But instead we’ll go home. I’ve told her I’m bringing you, and she’s expecting you. I’ll meet you when you’re finished and we’ll go straight there.’

  ‘Oh, David…David!’ She was leaning against him, her head in his neck, shaking both their bodies with the convulsion of her weeping.

  Then once again he was drying her face—under her eyes, round her nose, round her lips. His eyes remained on her lips, fixed as if he had become lost in a dream. Then with a suddenness his hands were clamped to her ears, and when he pulled her face towards his her hat fell backwards on to the grass. And then they were kissing. In the open on a bench in the Marine Park and on a Saturday dinner time, they were kissing. It was enough to get your name up. You could cry on a bench but not kiss. Something of this ran through her mind. But what did it matter? What odds? What odds? Noth
ing, nothing in the world mattered at this moment except this man, this man David who wanted her.

  Four

  His mother opened the door to them. ‘Well, you’ve got here,’ she said. She was smiling faintly.

  David pressed Sarah before him up the two steps and into the hall. ‘Give me your coat,’ he said.

  His mother opened the sitting room door now. She put her head inside; then, withdrawing it, she looked at Sarah. ‘There’s a fire on; it gets chilly at nights, especially when it’s drizzling.’

  ‘Have we kept you waiting?’ David was straightening his tie.

  ‘No, no, they’re all in the living room. Tea isn’t quite ready yet. Go on in.’ She held out her hand and touched Sarah’s arm with the tips of her fingers, halting her as she crossed the threshold into the room and adding quietly, ‘There’ll be plenty of time to talk later.’

  When she turned away and walked across the small hall and into the room, from where came a buzz of voices, and the high gleeful shriek of a young child, Sarah, standing stock-still, gazed after her. She felt unnerved; she didn’t know if it was with relief because the talking had been put off, or because it was to come.

  ‘Don’t look so mesmerised.’ David was pulling her into the room and towards the couch.

  ‘Oh! If I get over the night I’ll live to be a hundred.’ It was her first attempt at jocularity, and he pulled her swiftly into his arms and held her tightly for a second. Then, releasing her as quickly, he whispered, ‘They’ll all be in in a minute.’ And as if working along the lines that attack was the best form of defence, he said, ‘Would you like to come into the living room now and get it over with?’

  ‘No, no.’ Her tone was low and rapid. ‘Give me a breather.’

  ‘Do you mind if I leave you for a minute, then? I…’

  He seemed hesitant to tell her why he had to leave her. It could be that he had to go to some place like the lavatory, she thought, then dismissed the idea. No, he wanted to have a word with them, or likely with his mother.

  ‘Go on.’ She pushed him gently, playfully. ‘I’ve only got to die once.’

  He laughed at this. His head back, in spite of his evident nervousness, he laughed. Then, clasping the palms of his hands for a second over her ears, an action of endearment she was to find that had its drawback, as it dimmed her hearing, he whispered, ‘We’re going to have some times together, Sarah, good times; you were made to laugh, you know.’

  He left her on this, and the sound rushed back into her ears again. She sat down on the edge of the couch thinking, I was made to laugh. Funny that; there’s been so little laughter in me life. But he’s right, I love a good laugh. Fancy him knowing that. She looked round the room. To her eyes it was a beautiful room, beautiful in its arrangement, in its prismatic brightness, and the absence of litter of any kind; not a paper or a book to be seen, nor clothes lying about, not a cap or a coat dropped carelessly. No packets of Woodbines on the mantelpiece. She looked at the gleaming white-painted wooden frame that surrounded the pale-blue tiles. She couldn’t see anyone daring to lean a finger on that edifice, except to dust the marble clock and the two pink vases with the pictures on the front of ladies in old-fashioned dress. She turned her head and looked over the back of the couch to the piano. It wasn’t cluttered either; it held only two photographs, one at each end. They were both of boys. One of them was David, when about six. His eyes hadn’t changed, nor yet his smile. She sat gazing at it with a warmth of feeling that was yet threaded with awe. She was going to marry that boy. She was really going to marry that boy.

  Her head jerked away as the door opened and she looked at the man standing just within the room, and he looked at her. He still held the door in his hand, and after a second, when he went to close it, he did so without taking his eyes from her. Then he shook his head as he exclaimed, ‘Good Lord! Fancy seeing you.’

  Sarah had sidled to her feet. She couldn’t remember seeing this man before. She guessed this was John, the brother. But he didn’t look at all like David. Just as she was an oversize of a girl, he was certainly an outsize of a man.

  ‘Well, well.’ He was standing in front of her, holding out his hand now. ‘I’m John, your future brother-in-law.’

  His hand was hard, his grip was tight. ‘I’ve seen you going up and down the road for years, but I didn’t know it was you our David was after.’ He jerked his head to the side. ‘Well, I must say he knows when he’s on a good thing.’

  Sarah hadn’t spoken. She was standing smiling weakly, as she thought, It’s hard to believe they’re brothers. The only thing she recognised as similar in both of them was their voices. Yet even these were different because this man used his words in a way that made his voice seem ordinary, in fact even like the voices of the people from her own end. Although he wasn’t broad Geordie there was no refinement in his speech as there was in David’s.

  He dropped her hand and pointed to the couch and said, ‘Sit down and don’t look so worried.’ The last words brought his chin out and his head and shoulders towards her. He was speaking like a kindly conspirator. ‘In a few weeks you’ll wonder why you ever felt nervous and you’ll kick yourself.’ He stood looking down at her, his hands on his hips, and he brought the side of his face into his hunched shoulder, which action laid stress on the enquiry, ‘You can talk; you’re not deaf and dumb, are you?’

  ‘Yes…No.’ Now they were laughing. ‘I…I said to David if I get over the night I’ll live to be a hundred.’

  He did not answer for some seconds; his broad face took on an expression that puzzled her in its implication of aggressiveness until his words explained it when, bending down to her, his face not more than six inches from hers, he said tersely, ‘Look, you set out with the idea that you’re not going to be frightened of anybody, in this house or anywhere else. If you think you’re going to be frightened you’ll be frightened. If you let people put the wind up you you’ve had it, you’re finished.’

  ‘Yes, yes, you’re right there.’ What else could she say. She could feel the heat from his face. She looked at his mouth. It was well shaped, broad, but not kind like David’s. He was better looking in all ways than David, handsome she would say, but he wasn’t like David. She was feeling disturbed, nervous under the pressure of his eyes, when the door opened once again and Dan entered.

  ‘Oh, hello there.’ He looked past John towards Sarah, and Sarah took in a deep breath and smiled. There came a slackening of her muscles as if she had been relieved from an ordeal and answered, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Oh, of course, you two have met before.’ John cast his glance between Dan and Sarah, and Dan, tossing his head and winking, said, ‘Yes, I’ve got one up on you there, lad.’

  ‘Mind, I’m going to tell you something.’ John was standing on the hearthrug, his back to the fire, his hands rubbing his buttocks, his body bent forward towards her again. ‘You look out for him there.’ He motioned towards Dan with a sideways tilt of his eyebrows. ‘A proper Casanova we’ve got in this family. It’s a fact. He’ll be after your blood.’

  ‘Enough of that, John, enough of that.’

  Sarah saw that Dan’s face was slightly flushed and he looked put out, not really annoyed but just a little put out; she could almost have said a little hurt.

  ‘You know he’s my uncle?’ John’s arm went out and gripped Dan around the shoulders and they stood pressed together looking at Sarah.

  ‘He doesn’t look old enough to be your uncle.’ Sarah looked at Dan as she spoke, and Dan said, ‘I don’t feel old enough to be their uncle. It’s one of these odd situations, I was born late…’

  ‘You said it, chum, you said it.’ John rocked them backwards and forwards for a moment until Dan put in laughingly, ‘Stop acting the goat, Sarah’ll think you’re barmy. She knows what I mean.’ He nodded towards her. ‘I was just a baby when Mary, their mother’—he indicated John—‘was married. We were all brought up together, so to speak. Mind you’—his voice dropped to a confidential
whisper—‘they wouldn’t have been my choice of relatives; but there, I didn’t have any say in the matter…Davie’s all right, but this one…’ He tried to pull away from John, and now John’s two arms were around him crushing him to his chest, and Dan was crying, ‘Leave over, man. Look, you don’t want to start a rough-and-tumble. You’ll have your mother on us like a ton of bricks; leave o-ver.’ With a sudden twisting jerk he freed himself and the two men stood apart, laughing at each other.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Dan sat down beside Sarah on the couch. ‘Anyone would think by the look of him and the size of him he was grown-up, mature like, but not him, he’s still in the puppy stage.’

  ‘Puppy stage! That’s right, that’s right.’ John was standing on the hearthrug again, his hands once more behind his back and his expression and tone reverted with a suddenness to what it had been before Dan had entered the room. ‘That’s funny, that is. Not grown-up! When I’m the only one among the lot of you that sees straight. Davie with his head in the clouds…no offence meant, it’s a compliment.’ His tone was slow and flat, and he accompanied each word with a movement of his head towards Sarah, then went on, ‘Father with the spunk beaten out of him.’ He looked towards the door, then his eyes moved towards Dan, ‘And you not caring a damn except…’ He stopped abruptly and screwing up his eyes, asked loudly, ‘Why did you set me off?’

  ‘Aw! You don’t need much setting off; and Sarah might as well know the worst from the beginning. What do you say, Sarah?’

  Sarah turned and looked at the man sitting beside her, and before she answered she thought, this one could be David’s brother, there’s a kindliness about him. With sudden daring gaiety she replied, in broad Geordie dialect, ‘Aa’ve summed him up, shockin’ lot. He’d never get past the dock pollis, him.’