‘Hello, Sammy. Would your snug be quiet about this time?’
‘As quiet as the grave, sir. And if it’s not I’ll make it so for you. Come through. Come through.’ He lifted the flap of the counter and the others followed through into a narrow passage lined with barrels, then into a small room, which also had a flap counter. Leather seats lined two walls, and there was a small round iron table between them. Here the publican cried, ‘Sit yourselves down. Sit yourselves down.’
‘Has my good lady been bothering you of late, Sammy?’
‘I haven’t seen her, Reverend, for some time. But bothering me? It’s a delight to see her. I tell you I have never seen that bar, full of men, laugh so much as when she pushes through them. The last time she came in she had them roaring, and, I can tell you, to the amazement of the new customers because, as you know, that big room is for men only. But there she was, pushing up to the counter where I could just see her head above it and she said to me for everybody to hear, “Sammy, would you be after having a few drops of that whisky that you keep back from their glasses when serving customers? Just a few drops would do.” And I answered her, “I have the very thing, Mrs Watson, the very thing. It’s been waiting for you. Is it your husband’s chest again?”
‘“It’s not only his chest,” she said; “it’s every other part of him. He’s coughing down to his toenails.”
‘“You should have heard that bar! And you know, they all wanted to stand her drinks. Yes, they did. I could’ve made nigh a fortune that day if she had only said, “I won’t have it now, but if you leave the money I’ll have them later.” You know what she said to them on that day? “Thank you all very much. It’s most kind of you, but if I was to touch the stuff it would go straight to my head and I would be apt to say strange things and do stranger things still, and the good Lord knows what Sandy would do if they locked me up.” And some bloke cried at her, “Who’s Sandy, ma’am?” and when she replied, “My husband, the Reverend Philip Watson, minister of this parish,” they actually fell about. They didn’t believe a word she was saying. I couldn’t get them to believe it until she had gone out, and you know what she went out saying?’
‘No; but I have a good idea, Sammy.’
‘Well, Reverend, she went out saying, “You are the most Christian heathen I know, Sammy. And you know something else? There are more Christians among the non-believers than the believers themselves.” That’s what she said.’
After Sammy had laughed loudly and Mr Watson, smiling, had nodded his confirmation of the statement, Sammy said, ‘What would you all like to drink?’
At this, Fred put in, ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to see to the drinks.’
‘Not while you’re in the company of the Reverend, you won’t, sir. I very rarely see him, and when I do he is my guest and whoever is with him. Now tell me what you would like? Madam?’
‘Oh, thank you, Mr…’
‘Just call me Sammy, ma’am. Just call me Sammy.’
Sally laughed. ‘Well, Sammy, I’d like a sherry.’
‘And you, sir?’ He now turned to Fred.
‘A shandy, if you wouldn’t mind, Sammy.’
‘I wouldn’t mind in the least. And for my dear friend, the usual hot toddy? And I’ll see to it myself now.’
‘He’s a good man,’ said Mr Watson; ‘none better. You know, every year he collects from all his customers in order that I might have parcels to send to all those in need, parcels as well as clothes dockets. He often collects a great deal of money, but he has to smile when I say to him, “The same rule stands, Sammy?” and he says, “It’s all right with me, Reverend.” And my rule is, you know, that I don’t give any of my parishioners a present in actual money, because I know that the women would see very little of it, while the men would be in this bar or another spending every penny that they have. It’s a strange life, isn’t it? And Sammy laughs about the arrangement where many another so-called Christian publican would not.
‘But now, I must quickly put you in the picture of what happened next. I’ll have to make it short.
‘After three days in that room and not a drop of whisky, mind, and meals that he himself would not have given to a stray dog, Charles consents to go down into the living room. He had been given an outsize overcoat from Paddy’s market, as well as a pair of cloth slippers, which were too small for him. By this time the poor fellow was almost out of his mind and continually asked if someone would find out if his clothes had been cleaned, only to be told simply that the cleaner was doing his best with them.
‘What really made him make a move was when Mattie came into his room, accompanied by Willie, who was carrying a tin dish of hot water, and she had a cut-throat razor and a saucer on which was soap and a shaving brush with her. “What’s that for?” his lordship had enquired apprehensively. And Mattie had answered, “I’m going to give you a shave.”
‘“By God, you’re not!” Charles had bawled. “This is the limit. Are you all mad here?” But Mattie went on, calmly for her, “I’ll not cut your throat. I shave me dad every week, and I’ve left no scars on him. And you look terrible. D’you know that?”
‘I understand Charles was about to protest physically when she pushed a brushful of soap almost into his mouth, and within seconds had lathered his face. Then gripping his nose, she said, “You remain still and I’ll not leave a mark on you.”’
Here Sandy Watson took a drink of his hot toddy, while his shoulders shook. Then he said, ‘Charlie himself has told me since that his eyes must have seemed to be popping out of his head, and he couldn’t believe it when she finally dipped the corner of a rough towel into the warm water and wiped his face clean, and it really did feel good. He didn’t thank her, but just gaped at her.
‘Apparently her last words were: “Now to meet me dad and without scaring me mum.”
‘He told me that downstairs he was further amazed at the poverty of the room: a table, four small chairs, a wooden settee with a thin padded cover; but what struck him straight away was the basket chair on which a man was sitting propped up.
‘He was introduced to this man, Joe, and to his wife Ada. But it was a long and embarrassing silence before another word was spoken, when Joe said, “I’m sorry about your clothes, sir. They shouldn’t be long now…Do you play cribbage, sir?”
‘Reluctantly, Charles admitted he could play. And that’s how the rest of the evening and the next day were passed. And yet all the while Charles was taking in, and not without some horror, the way these people existed; and from the talk that went on, seemingly better than some in the same street and district.
‘His mind must have been in a desperate state when he thought of me. We hadn’t met, but he knew that James’ father was a parson somewhere in the East End. And so he asked Joe if he knew of a parson named Watson, which, of course, he did.’
He finished his drink and leaned back saying, ‘I knew how Judas felt at the Last Supper when Charles greeted me in his bedroom almost with open arms, then poured out his plight. Could I help him in any way? He did not wish his father to find out what had happened to him.’
‘I realised he had no memory whatsoever of his last meeting with James and Peter, except that they’d had a farewell supper together.
‘It was then I knew that this farce couldn’t go on. The idea had been to make him aware of how the other half lived, hoping it would bring to the fore the better side of him, Well, I knew then that he had already experienced more than enough, and that from then on only time would tell whether or not the boys’ intention had succeeded.
‘They had meant that he should be taken to Paddy’s market to be rigged out and to become acquainted in some way with the McTaggarts, an Irish family of ten, living further down the street in dire poverty. But I decided, no; no more; that mustn’t happen. The poor fellow had had enough. And so I promised I would go myself to the cleaner’s and see about his clothes.
‘But then there was the further matter of his shoes, which were m
issing. What I suggested was that I should go out and buy a pair of very ordinary ones, but that the money would have to be taken out of the church fund, which I was sure he would not mind replenishing.
‘It took another day before this was all accomplished. It was his fifth day with the Connollys. However, before he said goodbye to them by thanking them very warmly, he made a surprising request of me: would I hire a taxi and go home with him and there explain to his man that he’d had a fall and had been staying with me because I was his friend’s father?’
Again Mr Watson laughed and dolefully shook his head. ‘Well I had told so many lies of late, what did another matter? Although this one was a whopper, which would have to be handled tactfully.’
‘What did his man say?’ Fred asked. ‘How was he greeted?’
‘In one way, with relief, because he wouldn’t now have to phone Charles’ father and confess that he had lost sight of his beloved son for almost a week. On the other hand he showed utter disbelief of my story, because there was his master in the stained suit, which had shrunk, and a pair of cheap shoes, looking as though he hadn’t been to his barber for days.
‘Charles begged me to stay and have a bite with him somewhere, but would I excuse him until he had changed?’
Again Sandy Watson’s shoulders were shaking as he said, ‘I could hear the bath water running, poor fellow. I was glad his man was upstairs with him, for had he started grilling me, I feel I would have been unable to match him.
‘Well, the dear fellow took me out to lunch, not in a smart place, nevertheless a nice restaurant. And I must admit to enjoying a meal as I hadn’t had for a long time, simply, as my good woman said later, because this time I couldn’t push it into my pocket. And a surprising thing happened at that meal and I cannot say if it foretells good or not. The waiter brought a wine list, and I realised Charles was looking at it without reading it. Perhaps I was expecting him to say, “Bring me a whisky”; instead, it was a red burgundy, and, I knew, a good one.
‘After our glasses had been filled, he looked down into his, then sipped at it as if he had never before tasted wine. When he laughed, I joined him, although I didn’t know what he was actually laughing at, until he said: “Five full days on water and boiled tea. I should be gobbling this up, shouldn’t I? But I’ve never been keen on wine, although I have drunk it with meals since I was five years old, when my father insisted that I should eat with him. As you must know by now, whisky is my drink. And you know, Parson, I’m afraid now to see it, or even smell it. Whatever happened to me the other night when I was blotto and was picked up out of the gutter by the kind Connollys has made me realise how far one can sink through that particular drink. I have always imagined I could carry it; but it carried me into the gutter. Consequently, being unable to get any more of the dog that bit me, as the saying goes, I have been compelled to do some thinking. The past five days have been like years during which I have seen myself as I never have before. Those people, their way of life, and that of all those around them, as Joe said, working their guts out to keep a roof over their heads and a bite in their belly, at least most of them. But then, they are probably an exceptional family, making the best of a bad job.”
‘“Will you go back to your favourite drink?” I dared to ask.
‘He considered a moment before he said, “I don’t know, sir. I only know this: strangely, I now shall have the power to control my intake.”
‘After that day we saw each other a number of times, when he couldn’t do enough for me. He has left a good sum for the Christmas boxes.’
‘Has he gone then?’ put in Fred quickly.
‘Yes; he flew back yesterday, he and his man. He wants to take up a definite position in his father’s business.’
And with this, Sandy Watson stood up, saying, ‘Let’s away then and deliver his message to the Connollys.’
They passed through another dingy street and finally came to a long road of run-down houses, when their guide said, ‘We are almost there.’
Although the Carpenters had been given an idea of the living room and bedroom, their imaginations had not been able to provide a picture of what confronted them now. They had both been in poor houses before; Sally herself had been brought up in her grandmother’s kitchen-cum-eating-and-sometimes-sleeping room after her mother’s death, but never had she seen anything like this. The only thing she could say about it was that it was clean, but it was poverty at its lowest and barest. Yet the four people who greeted them were all bright-faced and lively. Even the man who lay in the basket chair had a wide smile on his pale face as he held out a crippled hand in greeting. His wife, too, welcomed them like part of the family who had just dropped in, and the boy, Willie, who seemed all arms and legs, laughed as he took Fred’s hand, saying, ‘Blimey, sir, I never thought I’d shake hands with a schoolmaster.’ As for Mattie, the vixen, she was a very pretty soft-voiced girl of perhaps sixteen, not dissimilar to Rosie. Rosie was better formed, but in a way she had had every chance to be, for at least she had been well fed whereas this girl, to go by this room and what Mr Watson had spoken of, lived on bread and scrape a lot of the time.
‘Sit down! Sit down!’ cried Ada Connolly, pointing to the settle. ‘Bring a chair up for His Reverence and place it near the fire,’ she said to her son.
At this Mattie said, ‘My mother means, Your Reverence, that you look half frozen.’
‘Yes, I know she does, Mattie, while at the same time I’m aware the fire is pretty well lost on me because I always look half frozen. At least, that’s what my wife tells me.’
They were all laughing now. Then it was the man on the chair who spoke: ‘Our friend has gone off back home, then, sir?’ he said to the clergyman.
‘Yes, Joe. Yes. He went off yesterday, but he’ll be popping back and forth, I have no doubt.’
‘You know, sir, I was sorry for him. It was all supposed to be a lark, as you said, but he must have gone through the mill.’
‘Yes, you are right, Joe, you are right there. And my main purpose in coming here today, dear friends, is to bring you his thanks and this.’ From the inside of his jacket he now pulled out a brown paper bag, and leaning towards the table, he extracted from it four letters and, in silence now, he handed, first, one to Ada; then one to Joe; the third he gave to Mattie; and the last to Willie; and he said, ‘These are from your friend. He asked me to deliver them once he had left the country.’
They all looked down at the envelopes; then it was Mattie who said, ‘Let me slit it open for you, Dad.’ And taking a knife from the drawer at the end of the table, she slit the top of the envelope then handed it back to him. Out of it fell three pieces of paper. He laid them on the edge of the table. He picked up first the piece of white paper and read out the words that were written there: ‘Joe, I always honour my gambling debts.’ Then he picked up the second piece of paper, which he recognised: it was the scrap of paper on which he had written down what they had won or lost at their games of cards or cribbage. Then picking up the cheque, he held his other hand to his head as he cried, ‘God Almighty! It was never meant. It wasn’t; it was only a joke; in fun. Never in me life!’ He now pushed the cheque towards his wife, and she read out slowly, ‘To Joseph John Connolly, four hundred and forty-seven pounds,’ and her exclamation was, ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God!’ She looked at her husband and he at her, and he shook his head as he said, ‘It was never meant; it was all a joke, it was all a bit of fun.’
Quietly now, the clergyman put in, ‘He wanted you to have it, Joe. He was so thankful for your company; he has told me so himself.’
‘Open yours, Mother,’ said Mattie now. She hadn’t touched her own envelope; and with the same knife Ada slit hers open. She took out only two pieces of paper. She lifted one up and read, ‘Dear Ada, This is for being a mother to me, something I never knew. Go to the agent named on the back of this page and he will give you the choice of a flat or small house. The enclosed cheque will help you to furnish it. I shall always b
e in your debt, dear Ada. Charles.’
The tears were now streaming down Ada’s face; but when she lifted up the cheque she seemed to wail aloud like an animal, but not in pain, and she repeated, ‘Five hundred pounds! Oh, Holy Mary! Holy Mary! Why is God being so good to us through that dear man?’
Mattie had by now opened her envelope, and from it she took a cheque and a piece of paper, and she too read aloud: ‘To a little lady who played the part of vixen. But if she decides to take up barbering as a career she has only to let me know. The enclosed is for you to spend on yourself, and I repeat, on yourself, Mattie. We’ll meet again some time and talk. Charles.’
Her face now running with tears, Mattie held up a cheque, muttering, ‘A hundred pounds. A hundred pounds.’
All eyes were now turned on the boy. Willie had already opened his envelope and had read the note inside. He looked from one to the other and back to the sheet of paper, but for a moment could not force himself to speak. Then he read, ‘You did my dirty work for me, Willie, and without a grumble. Get yourself some nice gear, and work hard at school. Stay there as long as you can, then go to a better one if you can; but whichever way your results show, there’ll be a job waiting for you in our company. My thanks, Willie. Charles. And there’s a cheque for a hundred pounds.’
Sally was seeing everything through a blur. There was Joe with his body twisted round on his chair, his elbows resting on the edge of the table and his face covered with his hands. There was Ada, her head lying on her folded arms, her body shaking, and there was Mattie sitting now on a stool beside her father’s chair. Her head was bowed and one hand was pressed tightly across her jaws. As for the boy, he was standing against the fireplace wall to the side of Sandy Watson. His body looked limp, his arms were hanging slackly by his sides. His head was bent forward and kept nodding as if he were telling himself something, and he was making no effort to wipe the drops that were running off the end of his nose. As for Mr Watson, he too was full of emotion. This poor family had been given a gold mine, and all because they had fallen in with a silly plan that a young doctor and a budding priest had thought up in order to shock a man into seeing that there was another side of life other than the one he was leading.
Rosie of the River Page 13
