Justice is a Woman

by Catherine Cookson

  She was about to turn and retrace her steps when a piece of sacking protruding from the bushes near the fence caught her eye. The fact that it didn’t look like old sacking made her curious. Stepping from the path she approached the bushes and parted the branches to reveal a partly filled sack, its top folded over to cover its contents. Slowly she bent down and flipped back the top and her surprised gaze saw a loaf partly wrapped in paper, a brown-paper bag and below these carrots and onions and potatoes. She straightened her back and looked about her, then looked down into the sack again and, stooping, she opened the paper bag. It held a number of sausage rolls, some queen cakes and, wrapped in a piece of greaseproof paper, a solitary chop.

  She fastened up the paper bag again, folded the top of the sack into the shape she had found it, then stepped back on to the path.

  ‘Well, well.’

  She walked now into the woodland and stood against a tree. The land in front of her and beyond the fence sloped away, and in the distance she made out the dark huddle of houses that was the village, topped by the pit-head, and the greater huddle beyond them that was the town. And she asked herself what she was going to do about her find. Someone in the house was evidently helping families down there. Well, from the little she had seen, God knew they needed help. But was it fair? It was Joe’s money, or his father’s, that was being, she had almost said, squandered. No, it was certainly not being squandered, and stolen wasn’t the right word. Oh no! in this case stolen wasn’t the right word.

  Her thinking was checked by the sound of footsteps crushing the dry leaves, and now she moved behind the tree and pressed her back against the trunk and remained still. When the two figures passed by her she saw they were the half-caste chauffeur David and his wife. They were carrying two sacks each. She watched as they placed the sacks, not behind the bushes with the others, but in the open along by the fence. Then she saw the girl pointing towards some figures now approaching up the slope.

  She was in a quandary: if she moved, David and his wife would hear her, for around her feet was a carpet of dried leaves; if she remained where she was, the men, for now she could see they were men who were approaching, could not help but see her.

  The men had already seen her by the time she coughed, and it must have seemed like the crack of a gun, for it caused David and Hazel to swing around and stare in her direction.

  In the seconds that passed as neither they nor Betty moved, the men had reached the railings and now they too, taking in the situation immediately, stared at her.

  She forced herself to take a step from the trees and, nodding towards David, to say, ‘It’s all right, carry on.’

  It sounded to her own ears as if she were back in the Army: It’s all right, corporal. Carry on.

  The deep breath David let out would not have been one of shame at being found out, but of a quick decision: turning quickly, he lifted up the sacks and handed them to the waiting men.

  When each man was holding two sacks they all remained still as if formed of one body, then the oldest-looking among them, a thin-jowled, black-capped middle-aged man, nodded towards her and muttered, ‘Thank God, miss.’

  She stood as the men hurried away down the slope; watching them until they disappeared in a clump of bushes, only to emerge within a moment or so, pushing what appeared to be a square wheelbarrow, and she was quick to realise that the sacks would now be camouflaged.

  She hadn’t noticed David and Hazel walking towards her and she turned her head sharply in their direction when David said, ‘He knows, miss. The…the boss, miss, he knows about it.’

  ‘Oh well, that’s all right then.’ She smiled.

  ‘But…but not the missis…not madam.’

  Again she said ‘Oh!’ Well, this was no surprise; she wouldn’t expect Elaine to play godmother to the pit people, for apparently they were anathema to her. She had soon learned that Elaine disliked them not only as a class, but more so because of Joe’s attitude towards them; and, above all, she had learned that Elaine couldn’t tolerate this dark fellow here, nor his wife.

  ‘Well, don’t worry; she won’t hear anything from me. As long as her husband knows then, in a way, you are just…well, just carrying out his orders.’

  She watched the couple smile at each other with a deep warmness, and the look in their eyes brought into life a peculiar feeling, the only feeling she was really afraid of, the feeling that had the power to grease the lock on the door of the closed room of her mind, the empty, starkly bare room wherein nothing existed but aloneness.

  ‘They are having it very rough, miss. It’s the bairns most of all, and the weekends always seem the worse. They…they always looked forward to a bit of a dinner on a Sunday, so we do this every Saturday. Mary…I mean Mrs Duffy, saves us the bits and pieces from the house, and the boss says I can have the surplus from the garden. But even so I’ve had to cut down on their rations, for we never thought the strike would last this length of time.’

  ‘How much longer do you think it will go on?’

  ‘Oh, that’s anybody’s guess, miss. If they give in now they’re finished, for good an’ all, they’re finished; it’s a kind of war. One thing’s certain: they won’t give in for themselves nor yet for their wives, but it’ll be the bairns that’ll break the back of the strike; it’ll be for them they’ll give in.’

  ‘But they’re being helped, aren’t they? I mean, there are people providing food?’ She didn’t say soup kitchens, as it sounded so much like condescending charity.

  ‘Aye, yes.’ David sighed now. ‘People are kind. They do their best, but ’tisn’t good enough to keep body and soul together. And you know, miss, it isn’t only the food, it’s the loss of pride. Somehow if a man has to beg or grovel for food, or be numbered two hundred and ten in a queue for it, it strips him of his manhood. Things like that shouldn’t be allowed. We’re all human beings whatever our work, or…or our colour.’

  He naturally stood head and shoulders above his wife, but his making this statement seemed to increase his stature further, and she, putting her hand out and taking his gently, spoke for the first time, saying, ‘David, David; miss doesn’t want to go into all that.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, I do. I agree with what your husband said.’ Betty was smiling at Hazel and Hazel smiled back at her, and what she said now surprised and embarrassed Betty, for it was almost the same words as Mike had said to her yesterday, ‘I’m glad you’ve come, miss, and I hope you stay a long time.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you. I’m…I’m glad to be here.’ She smiled at them, then turned and walked up the path; and they walked with her; and when they neared the greenhouses where the path divided, she continued with them and a few minutes later, on a note of surprise, she said, ‘Good gracious! there’s the gates. I didn’t know there was a path this way. And there’s your house across the drive.’

  ‘Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea, miss?’

  Betty looked from one to the other; then her large mouth stretching wide, she said, ‘Yes, I would. Thank you.’ And her round brown eyes twinkling, she leaned forward towards them and added in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I don’t suppose you have any sausage rolls left?’

  For a moment David and Hazel looked at each other, then back at her, and now their joined laughter rang out loud on the frosty air.

  And the echo of their laughter reached the house and it brought Ella upright from where she was emptying a pail of ashes on to the dry midden and she smiled as she thought, ‘That’s funny to hear first thing in the morning; I wonder what the joke is.’

  And the sound of laughter wafted its way in through the open window to Mike’s bed, where he was sitting propped up after a sleepless night and waiting impatiently for his breakfast; and it caused him to turn his head towards the window as he thought: Laughing at this time of the mornin’. What’s there to laugh about at this time of the mornin’?

  And the echo of it reached Joe as he crossed the hall to the dining room, causing him t
o stop for a moment, then walk to the front door and open it. Somebody laughing like that at eight in the morning! It was a long time since he had heard laughter like that around here; not since he and David used to dive into the lake during the holidays. He closed the door quietly. Ah well, those days were gone, never to return.

  And Elaine, pouring out her first cup of tea from the silver teapot, paused as the sound of the laughter came to her through the open window, and it reminded her strongly of a laugh that used to grate on her. Betty’s laugh. Betty had a coarse laugh; what was termed a belly laugh. But surely she wasn’t out at this time of the morning. She turned her head and looked towards the window. No, no. Anyway, what could she be laughing at in the garden? It must be some of those hobbledehoys from the village sneaking about to see what they could thieve…

  Joe had almost finished his breakfast when Betty hurried into the dining room, and she apologised both to him and to Ella, who had just entered the room carrying a fresh pot of tea: ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but…but I went for a walk in the garden and the time slipped by.’

  ‘You went for a walk in the garden?’ Joe repeated the words slowly.

  ‘Yes…Yes.’ She sat down and lifted up the cover of the bacon dish.

  ‘It was early to go walking in the garden, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Best time, I think.’ She pronged two slices of bacon, a sausage and a piece of fried bread onto her plate.

  Joe wiped his mouth on his napkin before he said casually, ‘Which part did you get to? I don’t think you’ve been all over it, have you?’

  ‘I have now…This is lovely bacon, Jane,’ she said, turning to look at Ella, who was standing as if stuck against the sideboard. ‘We never get bacon like this in the south. It’s what you call green bacon, isn’t it?…You have large grounds.’ She had brought her eyes back to her plate, and now raised them without moving her head and looked across the table towards Joe.

  ‘Yes; yes, there’s quite a lot.’

  ‘I got right to the boundary this morning…And these sausages are good, too.’ Again she turned and looked towards Ella, and Ella stared back at her, but didn’t move or answer.

  ‘Did you meet anyone while you were out on your early walk?’ The question also sounded casual.

  ‘Oh yes, yes.’ She reached over now and lifted a silver jug towards her, saying, ‘I think I’ll have coffee instead of tea this morning’; then went on as she poured out the coffee, ‘I ran into David and Hazel and—’ Now she paused, placed the coffee jug back on the table, then screwed up her eyes as she ended, ‘Funny, but I didn’t catch the names of the others; the other men.’

  Joe and Ella exchanged quick glances; then Joe, crushing his napkin between his hands, placed it on the table and, leaning forward, he said slowly, ‘Betty.’

  ‘Yes, Joe?’ She waited. ‘You want to say something?’

  He ran his tongue around his lips, glanced again at Ella, nodded at her, which was a signal for her to leave the room, although at this point she didn’t seem to understand, then swallowed deeply and remained mute, for he couldn’t say to Betty in front of Ella, ‘For God’s sake! don’t let on to Elaine about this.’ But in the next moment he knew that there would be no need for that, for, after taking a drink from her cup, Betty said, ‘I don’t usually like coffee first thing in the morning but I’ve just had two cups of tea with David and Hazel, and the last of’—she paused and made the slightest movement of her head towards Ella as she ended—‘the sausage rolls.’

  Again there was laughter, spluttered, smothered laughter on Joe’s part, uninhibited on Betty’s, although the sound Ella gave vent to was almost hysterical, and she hadn’t subdued it fully as she crossed the hall.

  Mike, sitting further up in the bed, said aloud, ‘What’s going on in this house this morning? It’s like a pantomime.’

  And Elaine, hearing the renewed laughter, muttered to herself with deep indignation, ‘That’s the girl; either Joe or Betty has been joking with her. I wonder what next. This situation is becoming impossible.’ But then it wasn’t likely to be Joe who had caused Jane so to forget herself as to laugh aloud, and at that pitch, because Joe knew her feelings with regard to the servants and he wouldn’t upset her, not in her present condition. No, it would be Betty; she had a way of hobnobbing with the servants, with anyone, in fact, below her own station. It would so often appear that she was more at home with the lower classes. Well, she’d put her into the picture straightaway: she wasn’t going to allow that kind of thing to go on in this house…

  But wait. She needed Betty. Oh yes, she needed Betty, and not only now, but would do for months to come; and when the child was born she would need her more…She’d better tread carefully; Betty was quite capable of taking up her bags and leaving.

  She suddenly experienced a feeling of deep envy towards her gauche sister. Oh, to be able to take up your bags and go…with enough money to provide for your needs, to say farewell to this part of the country, and this house and everyone in it. Oh yes, this house and everyone in it.

  Three

  ‘You’re not going to accept?’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘After her sending you a letter like that?’ Elaine pointed to the sheet of paper in Betty’s hand, and Betty laughed, replying, ‘If she had written any other way I wouldn’t have thought it was from her; it’s characteristic.’ She read aloud, ‘“Come to tea on Wednesday four o’clock…just you. This place is like the North Pole; wrap up well. You remember me? We met in the railway carriage. Sarah’ll likely not speak to you but don’t let that bother you. Yours, Mary Ambers.”’

  ‘It’s just like her.’

  ‘What did she mean, just you? Did she think that I would go along with you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Then why did she say it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Elaine.’ Betty now folded up the letter and put it in her pocket. ‘She’s an eccentric old lady,’ she added.

  ‘You’re being invited on sufferance: you must refuse it; she says Lady Menton will likely not speak to you.’

  ‘I’m not going to refuse it, Elaine; she’s likely very lonely.’

  ‘Nonsense. She’s more likely bored and wants to use you as a form of excuse.’

  ‘Most probably. Most probably.’ Betty now turned towards the door, adding, as she opened it, ‘Most people do.’

  As the door closed behind her, Elaine called testily, ‘Betty! Betty!’

  Betty took no notice, but crossed the landing and went into her room. Jane had lit the fire, for the day was bitterly cold; in ten days’ time it would be Christmas. She had never looked forward to Christmas, because she always felt sad at Christmas. She didn’t know why, but even as a child she had felt sad at this time of year. Christmas presents and a Christmas stocking had done nothing to alleviate this feeling. She couldn’t understand why; it was something deeply inborn in her. But now she was depressed, too, by other matters, things that she couldn’t discuss with Elaine, such as the deep sympathy she felt for the miners down there in the village, and for all those others who’d had to return to work under worse conditions than they had suffered before going on strike. For seven long months they had stood out and now, as Joe had said last night, they were like an army that had surrendered to a merciless foe, and like conquered men they were bitter and full of hatred.

  She had seen that hatred take on a tangible form a few weeks ago when she was passing through Fellburn. The miners had been fighting with the police, themselves protecting pitmen from another town who had come to work in the mine. The streets had been full of raging curses intermingled with cries of: ‘Blacklegs! Scurvy swine! Backdoor bastards. Thieves! Taking the bread out of the bairns’ mouths’; on and so on. And she had seen the blood running down thin rage-engulfed faces.

  A month ago all the windows down one section of Joe’s factory had been smashed in, and two of his men had been attacked in
the dark and beaten up. Injustice created beasts: Mike had stated it well when he said that it turned fireside tom-cats into tigers.

  But now it was all over there was a deeper sadness in the village and the town than there had been when the strike was at its height. She likened the situation to war-occupied territory. Admitted, there were many rough customers among the miners, but who wouldn’t be rough when forced to work under such conditions as they had, and for so little money?

  There were times of late when she wished she hadn’t come here. Except for the time she spent in war service she had, for most of her life, lived among a class of people who, in the main, lived graciously. Even though, for some time now, she had found herself as an employee, nevertheless she had, in a way, been on the same plane as her mistresses. But since coming into this house she had been plunged into a different atmosphere, a strange atmosphere; yet despite it all she found herself in sympathy with it, and with those from whom it emanated, not only with Joe and Mike, but also with David and Hazel down in the cottage, who were quietly fighting their war against colour prejudice; and with Ella, who had been forced to change her name just to please Elaine; and with Mary and Duffy, both work-weary. And it distressed her to think that she felt more at ease in their company than she did in that of her sister.

  Elaine had always been petulant, and marriage hadn’t improved her; in fact, on more than one occasion of late it had been as much as she could do to carry on playing ‘good old Betty’ and not to turn on her and tell her exactly what she thought. But she had reminded herself that Elaine was well into her sixth month of pregnancy and was feeling unwell most of the time, or at least so she said. She slumped down in her chair and held her feet out towards the fire and chastised herself. She mustn’t accuse Elaine of putting on her sickness, for at times she really did look ill.