‘Quiet now…quiet.’ Mrs Schofield was now flapping her hands wildly, and her daughter, in shamed tones, whispered to Mary Ann, ‘Oh, Mary Ann, I’m sorry. Oh, I hate it when Mummy takes control and acts the goat; oh, I am sorry.’
Mary Ann, glancing for a moment at Janice, suddenly realised that you could be ashamed of your people for other things besides drink. It was a very comforting thought, a very comforting thought indeed. Anyway, she couldn’t now see much about Mrs Schofield to be ashamed of, but nevertheless Janice was ashamed and deeply. Remembering the technique of Mrs McBride in praising her da when she herself needed comfort on his behalf, she turned to her friend and said, ‘I think your mother’s lovely.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes…yes, I do. And she’s a sport. And I think you’re awful for saying that.’
‘Quiet, you grown-ups.’ Mrs Schofield was now silencing Connie and Bob and Mike with more flaps of her hands. She disregarded the fact that they were speaking to Mr Lord. ‘Now, there you are, they’ve all stopped talking. Now play, Corny.’
Before Corny lifted the cornet to his mouth he looked at Mrs Schofield and smiled. It was a broad smile and changed his face completely.
Nobody seemed to recognise the piece Corny was playing, but what the elders did recognise was that the notes were true and unblurred and that the boy, holding the cornet pointing skywards, had completely lost his self-consciousness and become an entirely new being. His coat sleeves had slid down almost to his elbows, but this did not make him appear ludicrous; it was the player who was to the fore now. Mike, as he listened, thought, ‘Aye, and he might an’ all have more suits than pegs to put them on—this is the age of the cornet and such noises. He might have been born at the right time, who knows?’
When Corny stopped there was loud clapping, and when it ceased he said, ‘That was me own piece, Aa made it up.’ And then with an unselfconscious twinkle, said, ‘D’ya know this?’ And he had reached only the third note when there were scornful cries and laughs of, ‘Oh, Blaydon Races!’ but before he had finished it there was only one person on the lawn who wasn’t singing, and that was Mr Lord.
Lizzie was in the kitchen clearing away and she was not a little amazed when she heard the singing, and perhaps a little relieved, but a few minutes later, when she came into the hall and looked onto the back of the player where he stood in front of the open doorway, she once again closed her eyes and lowered her head, for the tune he had started was being picked up by Mike and his clear deep tones were ringing across the lawn, accompanied by the laughing treble of Mary Ann. They were singing, ‘He stands at the corner and whistles me out’. And the climax came with a great roar of laughter when a cow in the byre set up a loud moo-ing. Then everybody was singing, ‘He stands at the corner and whistles me out, With his hands in his pockets, and his shirt hanging out.’
Again it was only Mr Lord who didn’t join in; again it was only his face that wasn’t cracking with laughter. He stands at the corner and whistles me out! He could see Mary Ann singing and gambolling with the lamb as she sang this song, and there she was now yelling her head off, sanctioned this time by her father. Well, he mustn’t worry, things had worked out for him in the past; he hadn’t the slightest doubt but that they would work his way again. Undoubtedly, it would need greater effort, but then all things worth while needed effort.
And he began right away on the effort when Corny finished playing. In clear tones he spoke to him across the space that divided them, saying, ‘I think, young man, that you’ll make something of that instrument before you’re finished.’
Corny stared at the old man, not able to believe that he was speaking to him, and in a tone of praise. But he was wary, on his guard, and he made no reply. When a few minutes later the old man walked casually to his side and said, ‘Tell me, what do you intend to make of yourself?’ he looked at him for a long while before answering, and then his tone was gruff and dull, ‘Aa’m gonna be a cornet player.’
‘How are you going to eat until you become a professional cornet player?’
It was a sensible question and Corny gave it a sensible answer. ‘Aa’m goin’ in a garrage forst,’ he said.
‘Ah, a garage. You’re interested in cars, then?’
‘Aye, Aa am.’ Corny’s tone could have been interpreted as: make what you like of that.
At this point Mike stopped Mary Ann from going to Corny and claiming his attention, and as he watched the old man and the lad talking he thought, The old boy’s up to something; but, anyway, if the lad gets talking he’ll find he’s no fool and he’ll forget his suit and see the makings of him.
But Tony, looking at his grandfather talking to the boy, just thought, Poor devil. What chance does he stand? …
It was about seven-thirty when the cars began to arrive. The party was at an end. Of all the farewells the high peak was the waving away of Mrs Schofield, and the last words Mike said to her were, ‘Bless you’, and she laughed up into his face from the car wheel and said, ‘Bless you, too, Mike. And don’t think you’ve seen the last of me, for I’m coming again, invitation or no.’ Lizzie, too, laughed at this woman. In spite of her dizziness she felt that she liked her. Anyway, she had certainly eased a nasty situation.
There was more laughter when Mrs Schofield’s car once again got into a tangle with Jane Willoughby’s outside the front gate. Jane was in a bad temper, for on the sight of her cousin Connie all compatible again with Bob, she felt she must have missed a great deal by not making an effort and staying to tea.
Bob had already helped his wife into his car before going round to take his seat at the wheel, and now there was Lizzie on his side and Mike and Mary Ann on Connie’s to say goodbye. Connie’s last words were for Mary Ann. ‘I wouldn’t have missed your party for anything, Mary Ann,’ she said.
Mary Ann could say nothing, she could only smile from one to the other in turn as she hung on to her da’s hand—the Quintons were kind again and were no longer a menace to her family, so that was that.
It was when the last car had gone, the last farewell had been said, that Tony, touching Mike’s arm and drawing him slightly aside, motioned with his head to where Mr Lord was still sitting talking to Corny, an apparently enraptured Corny now. And Tony with a quizzical smile on his face said, under his breath, ‘You’d never believe that he could get going so quickly but he has already disposed of the boy.’
‘Disposed? What do you mean?’
‘He’s got him interested in America and cars.’
‘But what’s that got to do with disposing of him?’
‘Can’t you see, Mike? Oh, but perhaps you don’t know. He’s got connections who have a car business in America and he holds more than a few shares in the concern. I’ve been listening to him working.’ Tony laughed. ‘He’s told the lad he can get him set on there.’
‘But why? What does he want to do that for? He looked as if he hated the lad’s guts when he came into the kitchen.’
‘Oh, be yourself, Mike,’ Tony laughed. ‘Where are your wits? Can’t you see he’s making my path clear by removing an obstacle. And from your daughter’s show of interest in our musician he’s definitely going to be an obstacle. Don’t you get it?’
Mike looked at Tony in silence for a moment. He was relieved and glad that he was seeing the business now with an amusing slant and he shook his head as he murmured, ‘Well, well. Can you beat it? He’s simply amazing. But look…’ He nodded over his shoulder. ‘Look there. Somehow I don’t think we need concern ourselves overmuch about Corny being drafted to America, do you?’
Mary Ann was running up the garden towards Corny and Mr Lord. Everybody had gone now; she could have Corny to herself; she was going to take him round the farm and Mr Lord wouldn’t mind. For Mr Lord liked Corny, he had talked to him for the last hour—she wouldn’t have believed it, not after what happened in the street that day. She came to a stop at Mr Lord’s knee and cried, ‘Hasn’t it been a lovely party, Mr Lord? Hasn’t it b
een wonderful?’ Then before Mr Lord could say anything she grabbed Corny’s arm and cried, ‘Come on and see my pony. Mr Lord gave it to me for my birthday present—didn’t you?’ She leant towards the old man and put her hand affectionately on his lapel, and for an instant he placed his own wrinkled, blue-veined one on top of it, but he said nothing; he just watched her hurry away, with the gangling boy at her side. As the ill-assorted pair passed Mike and Tony at the gate Mike stretched out his hand and said to Corny, ‘You’d better leave that with me. If you start blowing that up in the fields you’ll scare the wits out of the cattle.’ Corny, without hesitation, handed his beloved cornet to Mike, then with his head not bowed and his limbs not so gangling he looked ahead and struck out down the road, Mary Ann at his side.
But now she was not hitching and skipping as was usual with her when she was happy, for like an unexpected blow it had come to her that her hitching days were over. It was at the moment that Corny had handed the instrument to Mike that it happened. It was as if her da had recognised that Corny was to be her lad, and approved. In this moment of awakening she also realised, and fully, that he was the only one who did approve. She knew, too, that she had been daft to imagine that Mr Lord was talking to Corny because he liked him. She asked now in a sober tone: ‘What were you and Mr Lord talking about?’
‘Cars.’
‘Cars?’
‘Aye, cars.’ Corny cast a sidelong glance down on her, and she saw that he was amused and that he was surprisingly at his ease. He was no longer on the defensive. ‘American ones.’
‘Oh!’
‘He’s got a say in some works oot there.’
‘In America?’
‘Aye.’ He walked steadily on ahead. ‘He’s for hevin’ me set on.’
‘In America!’ Her voice was high.
They had just turned into the farmyard gate. They stopped and looked at each other.
‘But…but you can get work in a garage here—in England.’
‘Aye…aye, Aa knaw that, but he wants ta pack me off to America.’
‘But why?’
‘To get rid of me ’cos…’
As they continued to stare at each other Mary Ann’s feelings became a mixture of fear, misery, and disappointment. Then these emotions were swiftly engulfed by a surge of indignation…That was why Mr Lord had been kind to Corny. Oh!…Oh!
‘Are you going?’
‘Well—’ Corny pulled on his ear and, as he did so, he turned his head and looked about the farmyard, saying quietly, ‘There’s one thing sartin: Aa’ll nivver git a chance like this agen. It could set me up. This could be it. Aa aallways knew Aa’d git me chance one day.’
‘Oh, but, Corny…’
The wonder of the day had vanished and Corny did not seem to hear her appeal, for he went on looking about him and talking. ‘Aa could take it ’cos he doesn’t knaw Aa’m on ta him—he thinks Aa swallowed it. He’s not very bright up top or he wouldn’t uv changed his tune so quickly an’ laid it on see thick.’
With a sudden pull on his arm she drew his attention back to her. ‘I know why he wants to send you to America.’
‘Aye, so div Aa.’
Her eyes became so large that her face looked even smaller in contrast.
‘It’s to stop me an’ you dunchin’ inta each other. Me granny told me a while since what he’s got on the cards for you, an’ he’s got the idea Aa might muck it up.’ There followed a pause, then, ‘De ya want me ta gan t’America?’
‘No, oh no. No, I don’t.’ In the look on her face and the intensity of her words, she was exposing her vital weakness to Corny. A weakness that amounted almost to a flaw in her character, for where she loved she could not lie. Her feelings would always present her as a target. She was fortunate that Corny’s interior was in direct contrast to his outward appearance, for there was neither arrogance nor roughness in his manner as he said, ‘Well then, Aa won’t.’
The heaviness left her body and for a second she had a desire to jump, but she checked it, and found she had to take three quick steps, for Corny had resumed his walk again.
‘Yer da’s fer me.’
Mary Ann’s whole face was bright; her great eyes were shining as with triumph as she answered, ‘Yes, yes. I know.’
‘Yer ma’s not though.’
‘She will be.’
‘No, no, she won’t. Aa divvn’t taalk nice enough for hor.’
‘Oh, Corny, I’ll learn…teach you. I will.’ She half stopped, but he carried on, his big feet hitting the ground flatly with each step. ‘Divint knaw as Aa want ta talk different. Any road, Aa won’t hev time, workin’ an arl that.’
When she made no comment he glanced sideways at her and remarked, ‘Not less Aa come oot here a night or so a week.’
‘Yes, yes, you could do that.’ She was eager again.
‘Aye.’ He seemed to consider. ‘Aye, Aa could de that.’
‘Yes, yes, I could do that.’
‘What?’
‘Just what you said: “Aye, aye, Aa could de that”.’ She smiled gently at him. ‘Say “Yes, yes, I could do that”. That’s your first lesson.’
‘Aw!’ He put his head back and laughed.
‘Go on, say it.’
‘Aw, no man.’
‘Go on.’
‘Aw well!…Yes, yes, Aa could do that.’
The translation was too much for them both, for they began to laugh. They laughed and they laughed. Then Mary Ann, grabbing at his hand, compelled him to run with her. And he suited his steps to hers as he was always to do.
When the sound of the laughter floated down over the garden it carried no indication that a boy’s life had been taken in hand, or that Mary Ann’s destiny was already cut to a complicated pattern, and certainly not that the owner of the deep laugh had just managed a translation from thick Geordie into northern accented English.
Then the laughter was abruptly cut off and replaced by the strains of a song.
As he listened Mike’s face widened into a smile, but Lizzie’s face had a neutral look. The effect of the sound on Mr Lord was to make him close his eyes.
The breeze, seeming to catch Mary Ann’s voice and separate it from her partner’s, bore it down to the garden, and the words hung on the air:
‘Still I love him, can’t deny it.
I’ll be with him, wherever he goes.’
The End
Love and Mary Ann Page 20
