Her lips trembled again. What was the matter with him, keeping on? You’d think she had committed a crime. He was going on nearly as bad as he did the night she came back from the convent, when all she had done was to please Mr Lord—and she knew she had pleased him. It didn’t matter what he said about not wanting to see Tony, he had wanted to see him. She knew.
The present monotony was broken by the appearance of Michael who enquired somewhat anxiously, ‘What’s up?’
Mike answered him briefly, saying, ‘You’ll know soon enough.’ But Lizzie went on to explain the situation, nodding while she did so at Mary Ann’s bowed head.
When Michael, whom she knew was looking at her said, ‘My hat! What will she do next!’ Mary Ann found great difficulty restraining herself from barking, ‘Something that you wouldn’t think of, anyway, you big softie.’ And she might have said this within the next second, but the kitchen door opened again, and the attention of them all was directed towards it.
Tony was standing there, and he wasn’t looking at her da or ma or their Michael, but straight at her. He looked different somehow. She watched him come into the room, and when she realised he was making for her, she pressed herself back in the chair. Fear rushed upon her and her mind gabbled, ‘Eeh! What have I done? Eeh!’
Tony’s face was giving nothing away, on he came until he towered over her. When his hand came out and grabbed her she let out a terrified squeak, and as she was once again lifted from the chair her cry of ‘Da!’ turned into an astonished gulp when she felt his lips brush her cheek, and when he muttered, ‘You little devil, you,’ she looked into his eyes, which were close to hers, and a little giggle started to work up from her stomach. But before it reached her lips she stopped it. Over Tony’s shoulder she looked at her da’s relieved face, and her own took on a primness which said plainly to him, ‘You see, what did I tell you? All that fuss and bother!’ She wriggled from Tony’s arms and walked over to the table where Lizzie was standing leaning heavily on it, her relief also evident, and she looked up at her mother and, with the injustice she had received at the hands of her family made plain in her voice, she asked, ‘Can I have a drop of tea now?’
Chapter Twelve
What was the matter with everybody? Mary Ann had no way as yet of describing to herself that flat feeling that follows on too much excitement. During the past two weeks the excitement about the farm had been intense. People coming and going, two men all the way from London. And Mr Lord’s solicitor from Newcastle came nearly every day for a week. And men from the works, all going in and out of the big house—and Tony there nearly all the time. When he wasn’t there he was with her da, talking. They talked and talked and talked, her da and Tony, of things she could find no interest in at all—about herds and buying more land and building a stockyard, whatever that was.
The day following her final piece of strategy she had not of course gone to Mr Lord at her usual time, for that, she told herself, would have been daft. She was not out to court trouble, she’d had enough of it. So instead she had gone up onto a half-levelled rick to play, only to be dragged down by her mother, her hair and clothes straightened, and yet again she was sent up the hill at a run. Yet there had been no quiet reconciliation awaiting her. When she went into the drawing room Mr Lord barked her head off as she knew he would, and she said to herself that it wasn’t fair, he could be nice to Tony whom he had been going on about all the time, and now because she had made things right for him he was going for her! It wasn’t fair. When, the unfairness getting the better of her, she began to snivel, he suddenly became nice and pulled her to him, but bewildered her still further by saying, in his rare and kind voice, ‘Don’t ever let anyone change you, Mary Ann. Always act on your heart.’
She could understand the first bit all right, but not the second. Whatever way she acted, she thought, she always got wrong.
Then there was the excitement of Tony moving up to the house. He hadn’t really wanted to go; he had said things could go on as they were. It was her da who had said he must go. But anyway, it hadn’t made much difference, for he was always in and out of their kitchen, having scones and things. Her ma liked Tony. So did their Michael.
In some way the entire farm seemed to have changed. The Polinskis had gone and in their place was a new man, a Mr Johnston, and there was a Mrs Johnston, and a big girl called Lorna. Lorna was sixteen and worked in Newcastle. Mary Ann didn’t quite know if she liked Lorna or not. But Lorna was not sufficiently on her horizon as yet to warrant any mind-searching.
Last week Mr Lord had sat outside and watched the men make his garden. There were umpteen of them, and he had yelled at one, which proved he was a lot better. Yesterday, he was yelling at everybody, that is, everybody except Tony. This peculiar attitude of his towards Tony intrigued her. He never yelled at Tony; every time he spoke to him his voice was quiet, even, she could not believe the word herself but it seemed, gentle. With regards to Tony Mr Lord was not acting to pattern, and she asked herself from time to time when she saw them together, ‘What’s up with him?’
Now, after fourteen days of excitement and school looming up on Monday, life had become suddenly stale. There was nothing to talk about any more. Everybody on the farm knew everything, of course—there was no-one of her own age to brag to. She had seen Sarah Flannagan once in the past two days, and again with an escort, a single one this time. It was the lad who had walked with his head down. Sarah Flannagan seemed to have moved into another sphere, an enviable sphere. Although Mary Ann would have died rather than admit this, there were times now when she gave this matter much thought, for Sarah Flannagan’s life seemed full of excitement compared with her own.
She had taken heart when her mother had informed her last night that she was to go to Mrs McBride’s today, taking with her a chicken all ready for the oven and a dozen eggs. She had seen this as an opportunity to tell Tony’s story, with embellishments of course, to her friend. Moreover, while in Burton Street, there might present itself the opportunity to throw into Sarah Flannagan’s face the glory of the new school. In any case, she knew that if she failed to encounter Sarah, Mrs McBride would soon impart the news to Mrs Flannagan and take joy in doing so.
Excitedly she had started out with the chicken and eggs and reached Mulhattans’ Hall in a glow of benevolence, only to find Mrs McBride out and her grandson in charge. The grandson’s name was Corney, and she didn’t like Corney very much, he was bigger than her and always pulled her hair. Yet at this meeting she found herself viewing him in a different light: was he eligible for—a lad? No. His rough, red face and moist nose turned her sensitive feelings away from such a proposition, and reluctant as she was to leave without seeing Mrs McBride she could not risk staying in the same room with him, unless she was prepared to have a rough and tumble. And she knew who would get the better of that. So leaving her gifts and a message, she had retreated hastily from Mrs McBride’s kitchen and Mulhattans’ Hall.
Burton Street was practically empty, which was very unusual. She looked across to the Flannagan’s house. The windows were prim and neat as ever, but there was no sign of Sarah or Mrs Flannagan. So, in a very depressed state, she left the neighbourhood and made her way to church, to pay a visit before embarking on the bus for home.
The church too, with everything else, had changed. The Holy Family were of little or no comfort at all. She told them all about everything, but they looked as if they couldn’t care less. It was funny about them, she thought. Sometimes they were all over you and other times they didn’t let on you were there.
The Holy Family having taken on the ways of the world, Mary Ann had looked about her in the hope that she would see Father Owen and have a talk with him about something—the Devil or anything, it wouldn’t matter as long as she could talk. Of course, it wouldn’t be any good talking to him about the affairs on the farm, for he knew as much about them as she did, if not more. He had been at the farm twice in the past week, and closeted with Mr Lord. She hadn’t
known up till then that when he was a lad he had been friends with Mr Lord, for she couldn’t imagine Mr Lord ever being a lad. Also that Father Owen had known Tony’s granny. So to talk of the business of the farm would be covering old ground. Yet at the present moment she would have willingly covered any ground just to be able to talk to him. But he wasn’t to be seen. Nor did any rustling or noise come from the vestry to indicate his presence there. She did think for a moment of going and knocking at his house door, but then what excuse could she make to Miss Honeysett, because he wasn’t bad or anything and had to be visited. Life was very dull, so dull that had she encountered Mrs Flannagan and Sarah as she left the church she would have welcomed the sight of them. She thought of the morrow, the new school and strange girls. Well, they couldn’t be more snooty than the girls at the convent. She had no qualms about her status in the new school. It might be posh—it was posh, and nuns taught there—but it couldn’t be posher than the convent. Already she was looking down her nose a little at this new school.
She crossed the road and was walking slowly towards the bus stop when a honk-honk of a motor-horn brought her around with face abeam. And there drawing up to the kerb on the other side of the road was Mr Lord’s car, but with Tony at the wheel.
Taking no heed of the traffic, she dashed across to it, and hanging on to the window exclaimed, ‘Eeh! What are you doin’ here?’
For answer Tony said firmly, ‘Don’t you run across the road without looking where you’re going.’
As she dived round the back of the car she thought, ‘He’s like Mr Lord, always on.’ When she was seated beside him, she asked excitedly again, ‘What you doing here? Where you going?’
‘Home, of course.’ He pressed his foot on the pedal.
‘But what have you been in Jarrow for?’
‘I just came down for some hinges for the stockyard gate.’
‘Oh.’ The stockyard gate…Her da and him and Len were making a stockyard for the bullocks. They could talk of nothing else, and they wouldn’t play or lark on. She was sick of the stockyard, and in less than fifteen minutes she would be home and confronted by it all again. This at the moment seemed unbearable. She wanted to go for a ride in the car—somewhere…anywhere.
A wonderful idea suddenly hit her. She wriggled round on the seat and said excitedly, ‘Me ma sent me with a chicken and some eggs to Mrs McBride and she wasn’t in and I left them there, but I’ve got to go back and see if she’s got them. Will you take me round?’
‘Where does she live?’
‘Oh, it won’t take you a tick. It’s just four streets and a bit away, at the end of Burton Street.’
‘Very well.’ He smiled sideways at her. ‘But mind, I’m not staying, I’ve got to get back. Mike—your father’s waiting for me.’
She wriggled herself straight again and looked out of the window. ‘There won’t be any need to stay, I’ve just got to tell her.’
If Mary Ann ever harboured any doubts about endeavour having its just reward they were put to flight as the car swung into the top of Burton Street, for whereas she had left it only half an hour earlier almost deserted now it was full of people. Immediately she sensed the cause of the change—there was a row going on. Twisting herself round and kneeling quickly up on the seat she discerned in the far distance Mrs McBride. Dressed in her outdoor things, she was standing at the top of the steps of Mulhattans’ Hall, with her fists dug into her sides and her head bouncing in the direction of the road, where stood Mrs Flannagan with Sarah behind her.
The street was alive. People were at their doors and windows, children thronged the gutter, while a group of the more courageous formed a barrier across the road to get a close-up of the scene.
‘It’s a row.’ Mary Ann passed this information to Tony without looking at him, and Tony, without much interest, asked, ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Right to the top where it is—where the row’s going on. It’s Mrs McBride, she’s going for Mrs Flannagan.’
This information caused Tony quickly to brake the car, much to Mary Ann’s consternation, and she turned round on him and demanded, ‘You’re not going to stop here! Go on to the top.’
‘The road’s full, I can’t get up there. Anyway, you don’t want to go into that row, do you?’ His face and voice showed concern, and she looked at him in amazement as she said quickly, ‘It’s Mrs McBride. Ah, Tony.’ She paused a moment, then changed her tone into a coaxing wheedle as she realised that it was a chip of Mr Lord she was dealing with and not just Tony, for the set look on his face told her that he was not going to drive into the row. ‘Aw! Come on, take me up. Aw, come on, Tony! I won’t ask you to do anything else…ever, honest I won’t. Just this once. Aw, come on!’
Tony looked at her, shook his head slowly, drew in a breath, and accelerated just the slightest. The car moved slowly up to the outskirts of the crowd, and as he shut off the engine Mrs McBride’s voice came booming to them, yelling,
‘Kicked her in the shins, did he? Well, she’s lucky he didn’t kick her in the backside an’ all! I would’ve done, and you an’ all, me fine lady. And let me tell you, you lay a finger on him and begod, you’ll wake up and find yourself a corpse! And it’s me tellin’ you.’
Tony found himself with a ringside view of the fight. He saw a thin woman standing in the roadway, her face contorted with temper. He did not know her, but he did recognise the fat old woman on the steps. And so angry and flaming was her countenance that he warned Mary Ann sternly as she made to get out, ‘Stay where you are.’
What! She turned quickly and looked at him. Stay where she was and a row going on? She sensed that he was afraid for her, and she laughed within herself at anyone being afraid of mixing up in a row, especially in Burton Street, and more especially when one of the combatants was Mrs McBride. No harm could ever come to her if she was under the banner of Mrs McBride.
‘I’ve told you, you’re not getting out. At least not yet.’ His hand was firmly holding her arm.
‘Aw, man, nothing’ll happen to me! It’s Mrs McBride—she’s at Mrs Flannagan. Her there.’ She pointed. ‘Mrs McBride always beats her. Aw, Tony, leave go, it’ll be over in a minute!’
‘It’s over now. Look, she’s seen you, she’s coming down.’ He nodded to where Mrs McBride was descending the steps, her chin up in the air, and shouting to the children as she reached the pavement, ‘Out of me way! Out of me way! Out of me way, the lot of you.’
‘You see.’ The look Mary Ann bestowed on Tony was not without satisfaction; it told him he deserved all he was likely to get, for now the car was encircled with children and all crying, ‘It’s Mary Ann.’
‘Hallo, Mary Ann.’
‘Hallo, Mary Ann.’
‘It’s Mary Ann.’
‘Eeh, Mary Ann! Is this your car?’
‘Eeh, by, Mary Ann!’
‘Oo…ooh! Mary Ann. Ooh!’
‘Out of me way.’ Mrs McBride’s face filled the open window, her smile breaking up her anger. ‘Why, hallo there, hinny. What’s brought you this way?’
‘Hallo, Mrs McBride.’ Mary Ann smiled widely back at Fanny. ‘I came before. I brought you a chicken from me ma and some eggs.’
‘A chicken did you say? and eggs. Well!’
‘Did you hear that?’ Fanny withdrew her head from the car, and looking over the top of it sent her piercing gaze towards her enemy, repeating, ‘A chicken and eggs. Did you hear that? Sent to me from me friend.’
Her head popping into the window again, she now addressed Tony, nodding to him and saying, ‘Hallo there, lad.’
‘Hallo,’ said Tony.
Both in his manner and voice it was evident that Tony was slightly nervous and somewhat at a loss. Quantities like Mrs McBride needed getting used to, especially when they were in their battling form.
‘Aren’t you coming in for a drop of tea, the pair of you?’
Mary Ann looked swiftly at Tony, and her disappointment was great as he said, with some sligh
t emphasis, ‘No, thank you. You see I’m on an errand.’ And aiming to temper his refusal he added, ‘It’s for Mike—some hinges.’
‘Oh!’ The exclamation swept over the street, which Mrs McBride now addressed, rather than Tony. ‘Grand news I’ve been hearing about Mike. Running the whole show he is now. Well, haven’t I always said he had it in him? Aye, the just shall be rewarded.’ Her head was bouncing over the top of the car towards Mrs Flannagan again, and the prim lady, not being able to stand any more either of her enemy or of the other thorn in her flesh, now preening herself in the car, turned away, marched through her front door and banged it after her. It was evident that she had, for the moment, forgotten about Sarah, who made no move to follow her mother but stared fascinated at the car, and at Mary Ann seated on the far side of the nice-looking young lad.
Acutely embarrassed, Tony was telling himself that he must get out of this, for now converging on the car from all sides, slowly, and somewhat tentatively but nevertheless insistently, were the neighbours, all apparently anxious to hear Mary Ann’s news. So when Fanny put her head once again through the window he said quickly, ‘If you’ll excuse us, I must get back.’
‘Certainly, certainly, lad. I understand. And give my best to Mike. And—’ Mrs McBride’s podgy and none-too-clean hand came in and grabbed at Mary Ann’s, and she muttered, somewhat softly now, ‘And thank your ma, hinny, for me. Tell her God bless her.’
The Devil and Mary Ann Page 24
