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His compassion for her did not lessen when shé^whispered without looking at him, ”I could have nothing but marriage, Abel. I ... I couldn’t act loose, no matter how I felt.”
’I understand. It” - he swallowed deeply and now had to force out the words that spelt yes - ”it’ll be as you wish.”
”Oh, Abel. Abel.” She was on her feet now, her arms about him, and when he gave a slight groan she cried, ”Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and you in pain.” She took one arm away from his neck and eased her body to the side; then she lifted her face upwards and when he bent his head and put his lips to hers her eyes were tightly closed, and his own body registered the shiver that passed through her.
When after a moment she stepped back from him, her face was bright, her eyes shining and her voice husky as, looking him up and down, she said, ”You’re so big and so gentle. I’ve never imagined anyone so gentle as you, Abel.”
”You don’t really know me.” He gave a small laugh and a shake of his head.
Swinging round like an excited girl now, she cried, ”Oh, the plans I’ve got. I’ve lain in bed at night and thought what we’ll do with the business, because I know you like the business. You do, don’t you?” She turned towards him again and he said quietly, ”I’d be hard to please if I didn’t.”
”We could extend if we could get Esther Burrows to sell that field of hers, and she will have to sooner or later because her money’s running out. And we could sell petrol; I’ve thought a lot about that. There’s plenty of places for purnps in the front.”
He had sat down again and now he watched her flinging the tablecloth over the table prior to setting the table ready for tomorrow’s breakfast, talking all the while and all about the business, until she stopped and as if she were throwing off the businesswoman and returning to the girl again, she said, ”Do you think I could be married in white, Abel? I’d love to walk up the aisle this time in white. I wore just an ordinary costume. . . . What is it?”
She moved slowly towards him where he had risen from the chair, his face wearing a stiff blank look. His voice, too, held a note of firmness she had not heard before, at least not during this evening as he said, ”I won’t be married in church, Hilda.”
She was aghast, and showed it in her face, her voice, and even 130
%&’-
in her outstretched hands. ”Not in church ? But where ?”
”The registry office.”
”Oh no! No!” She shook her head wildly. ”Never! Marriage in a registry office? There’s . . .
there’s no holiness or anything good about it.”
”It’s the same as a church ceremony.”
”It isn’t. It isn’t. Abel, I’m surprised at you. And what will the vicar say ? He won’t allow it.
We’ve been church people for years. I’ve . . . I’ve always gone to him for advice, and Mr Maxwell was a sidesman, we met there. The vicar knew about our . . . well, I mean he knew about our marriage state and everything. He’d . . . he’d never stand for it.”
”Then I’m sorry, Hilda; but I won’t be married in a church, a church of any kind.”
The flatness of his voice, the note of determination in it that brooked no softening told her immediately that the only way she could get this man was to marry him in a registry office.
When he made towards the door, saying, ”I’ll go across now. Think about it, there’s no rush,”
she stared at him for a moment before asking, ”Will you be able to manage?”
He nodded and gave her a quiet smile as he answered, ”Yes, I’ll manage all right. Good-night, Hilda. Don’t worry; there’s been no harm done. If ... if you can’t see your way to meet me in this . . . well, things could go on as they have been. We’ll talk again in the morning. Good-night.”
The look on her face checked his movement and when of a sudden she ran towards him and held up her face to his he knew there was no need to wait until the morning for her answer, it was given.
He sat in a straight-backed chair. The boy stood in front of his knees; his face was white and pinched looking, and fear was reflected in his eyes and his lips trembled as he said, ”Am I gona get wrong, Dad?” ”No, no.”
’I only threw some snow at him, Dad. It was only a little bit and it didn’t hurt him and ...”
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”I know. I know.” Abel drew the boy closer, an»now Dick put his hand tentatively on the sling as he asked, ”Does it hurt bad, Dad?”
”No, I don’t feel anything now, just a slight numbness. But listen, I want to talk to you, and seriously.”
He stared down into his son’s face; he wetted his lips preparatory to speaking; then clenched his teeth as if to form a barrier to check the words that must be spoken.
With a slight movement of his head to the side, he said softly, ”Listen. You know what I’ve been telling you about thinking of your mother as being dead ?”
He waited. ”Well, don’t you remember?” His tone was harsh now.
”Oh yes, Dad, yes.” Dick nodded at him; then his chin jerking upwards, he repeated loudly, ”Yes, yes, Dad.”
”Well, that’s all right then. But even so we both know, don’t we, that she was alive and well when we left Hastings ?”
”Yes, Dad.”
”And for all we know she’s still alive ?”
”Yes, Dad.”
”Now listen carefully. When a man has a wife and she’s still alive he can’t marry another woman. You understand ?”
Dick blinked, looked to the side, then looked back at his father before saying firmly, ”Yes, Dad.”
”Well now, say that this man goes and marries another woman while his wife is still alive, it’s a sort of... well, a sort of sin and he can be put in prison for it because a man is not allowed to have two wives. You understand?”
Again there was a pause before the boy said, ”Yes . . . yes, Dad.”
Abel now gripped the boy’s shoulder and bending down further still until his face was on a level with and close to his son’s, he said, ”Mrs Maxwell wants me to marry her. You understand ? She wants me to marry her. If I don’t, then things will become very strained; in fact we will have to leave here, and I’d have to look for work elsewhere.” He paused here. ”You know what happened when I attempted to look for work before, don’t you ?”
The boy’s eyes were wide; the fear had been replaced by a look of deep perplexity. He did not say as he usually did, ”Yes, Dad,” but remained quiet, his young mind trying to take in the enormity
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of the situation his father was placing before him. His thoughts were ranging wildly around the danger of sin which would lead to prison, the feeling was akin to that which he experienced at the matinee on a Saturday afternoon when he saw the cowboys and Indians fighting and the bad man at last being shot or taken off to prison by the sheriff. But it was only bad men that went to prison, yet his father had said that if he took two wives he could go to prison. Then startlingly his mind presented him with a picture of a baby. He didn’t reason why this should be, except that Géorgie Armstrong’s sister who was married three months ago had just had a baby and Géorgie had had a fight at school with a bigger boy about it. Géorgie was eleven and he knew all about babies. He said you could have one or you could have five, they were just like his rabbits, only they took a little longer to come, three months for each one he said and that the doctor had come and pulled the baby out of his sister’s belly button. . . .
”Are you listening?” Abel shook him roughly by the shoulder. ”It’s all up to you. Do you realize that?”
”What is, Dad?”
”Boy, am I talking to myself? What have I been saying?”
”About not lettin’ on about mam.”
”Well then, you must remember to forget, so to speak, that your mother is alive, because once I’ve married Hil . . . Mrs Maxwell and anyone finds out that I have another wife they’ll send me to prison. I wouldn’t need to have to w
orry about findin’ another job. Now do you understand? . .
. Tell me you understand that you must never mention your mother to anybody.”
”Yes, Dad.”
There followed a long pause while they stared at each other, then Abel said, ”You’ve made friends at school. This pal of yours, Géorgie Armstrong. He’ll tell you things and he’ll expect you to tell him things back, but if you don’t want any harm to come to me you must never confide in him, I mean . . . well, tell him secrets, like about things that happened when we lived in Hastings.”
”I won’t, Dad. I won’t.”
^ Again they stared at each other; then the boy said quietly, What’d happen, Dad, if ... if me mam came and found us ?”
Abel opened his mouth wide and gulped at the air. Then rising to his feet, he put his arm around his son and pulled him tightly
!33
against his side as he said, ”Don’t worry about that. I’don’t think there’s any likelihood of her finding us, I put her off the scent about us coming North before I left. Anyroad, should she come this way she’ll go straight to yon side of the river and we are well inland here ; people hereabouts are apt to keep to their own neck of the woods ; some of them in North Shields haven’t been this side of the river in their lives. No, don’t worry about that, son, that’s the least of my worries. The only thing I’m worrying about, and I’ll go on worrying about, is if you should let it slip.” . The boy moved from his side and stood solemn-faced looking up at him now as he said slowly, ”I won’t let it slip, Dad, never, ’cos I like it here.”
f ••&» Perhaps it was a trick of the light coming through the small window but it seemed to Abel at that moment that his son changed. He saw him stepping prematurely out of childhood burdened with a secret that would grow heavier with the years and awareness, and he wondered how that awareness when it came would affect their relationship : would the boy’s blind love for him perish in the open light of revelation ? The fall of a god was always harder than that of a mere man, and he knew that in a way he appeared I ; as a god to his son, he was someone who could do no wrong,
someone who knew all the answers.
He turned and walked to the window and stood looking down into the yard, asking himself now if it was worth the risk. But before he could give himself an answer his attention was taken up by a car swinging into the yard, and when out of it stepped i Florrie his whole body stiffened. He watched her hurry towards
the kitchen door and when it closed behind her he looked at his watch. Half past eight. She was likely on her way to open her shop, but what did she want here ? He hadn’t set eyes on her for weeks now, not since the night her gentleman friend had unexpectedly reappeared. He stopped himself from going downstairs, this wasn’t the time to come face to face with Florrie.
He didn’t move from the window when he spoke to Dick, saying, ”Get yourself off to school.”
”Must. . . must I go the day, Dad?”
”Yes, you’ll be better there.” He still kept his eyes focused down on the yard while the boy gathered up his school bag and put on his coat and cap, and when he stood behind him, saying,
”I’m off then, Dad,” he turned about and putting his hand on his son’s 134
cheek, said gently, ”You’ll be all right.” He did not add, ”Remember what I said,” because he felt there was no need; the less said about it from now on the better.
While the boy was crossing the yard towards the gate the kitchen door opened and Florrie reappeared, with Hilda behind her. Hilda was putting her coat on and as she made for the staircase he drew back from the window and waited until her voice called, ”Abel! Abel!”
Slowly he went down the stairs and she greeted him with a flow of words. ”Dad was knocked down last night, he’s in hospital. Do you think you can manage ? Leave everything to Arthur, I mean the work; just keep your eye on things.”
Before he had time to reassure her she was exclaiming, ”Oh me bag ! I’ve come out without me bag,” and turning from him, she dashed back into the house, while he walked slowly across to where Florrie was standing by the car. After a moment during which they stood looking at each other, he said, ”I’m sorry about your father.”
”Oh, he’ll survive. But just in case, I thought she should know. ... By the way, she’s told me the happy news.”
He continued to stare at her waiting for her to add, ”Congratulations,” but what she said was, ”I wish you all you wish yourself,” and to this he answered, ”I’m afraid that’s too tall an order ever to come true.”
The next minute Hilda was by his side. ”There now,” she said, ”I’m ready,” and as Florrie went round the bonnet to the far door of the car Hilda lifted her face up to his, and after a moment’s hesitation he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
There was a loud revving up and the car started and went out through the wide opening as if setting off for a race, leaving him standing in the middle of the yard.
Never before, not even when Alice went, had he experienced this feeling of aloneness that was in him now, for it was bordering on desolation, desolation of both mind and spirit.
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PART THREE
eWs
The First Incident 1938
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.(»•
$m
”Molly, may I come in?”
The young woman turned from the sink, looked towards the door where the boy in the school blazer was standing, and she said, ”Why, of course. What’s the matter with you ? You don’t usually ask, what’s the matter with you ?”
As he stepped into the room he looked around the kitchen and in a whisper now he muttered,
’Your mother ?’
”Oh, she isn’t down today, she rarely comes down at the weekends.”
”Oh aye, yes.” He nodded at her.
She was now standing in front of him and, bending forward, she asked softly, ’What’s the matter, are you ill ?’
”Well” - he turned his head to the side - ”I’ve . . . I’ve been sick, and it... it went down my sleeve.
Look, it’s on the front of my blazer, and Aunt Hilda ’11 go mad if she sees it. Could . . . could I sponge it down ?”
”What made you sick ?” She was still bent down towards him. ”You been stuffing?”
”No.” He shook his head before saying sheepishly, ”Smokin’.”
”Smoking!” The word came out on a giggle; then their glances meeting, they both started to laugh further but checked themselves immediately with their hands over their mouths.
”Here, take your coat off,” she said, swinging him round and pulling the blazer from him. ”What were you smoking, tabs?”
”No ... a pipe.”
”A what!” Again she was gurgling. ”Where on earth did you get a pipe?”
’Géorgie. Géorgie Armstrong. He’d got these old pipes of his father’s and we were in the hut at the bottom of the garden. He was all right, he knew how to smoke, and I would have been all 139
right an’ all, I think, if it hadn’t been for his mother Jf ,
”She caught you?”
”I say she did. She . . . she came from nowhere.” He pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing again, then went on. ”She didn’t say a word, but she lifted him up by the collar, and he still had the pipe in his mouth! She got a hold of me next and . . . and -” He now leaned over the kitchen table and, putting his elbows on it, dropped his face on to his hands in an effort to suppress his mirth.
”Go on, tell me,” Molly hissed at him.
Straightening up, he turned to her and ended, ”She . . . she put her foot in me backside and I went sprawling through the door on to me hands and knees. It was then I was sick and . . . and when I picked meself up I saw her tearing up the garden with Géorgie, and his feet were hardly touching the ground. The funny part about it was she hadn’t spoken a word.”
The laughter was getting a hold of them again, they looked into each other�
�s face until, in an effort to smother his guffawing, he fell against her, and when his arms went about her she remained utterly still for a moment; then she held his shaking body to her and let her own laughter mingle with his.
Even when his laughter subsided he didn’t move away from her, not until a voice coming from above seemed to cleave them apart like a knife.
”Molly! Molly!”
Molly went to the door that led into the hall and from there she called, ”Yes?”
”What’s going on down there ?”
”Nothing, Mother.”
”Come up here.”
”I’m seeing to the dinner; I’ll be up in a minute.” She turned now and closed the door none too gently, then coming back into the kitchen, she said, ”I’d better press your coat, you can’t put it on wet.”
”Oh, it’ll be all right.” He was whispering again.
She took no heed of him, but brought out the ironing board from a cupboard, together with an iron, switched it on, then smoothed the blazer out while waiting for the iron to heat.
Dick sat looking at her, at the girl who had been his friend for years but who, during the last year or so, had somehow slipped
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away from him while becoming a young woman.
He watched her wet her finger on her tongue and apply it to the iron; then happening to look at him she paused and said, ”You’re miles away again. What are you thinking about?”
”I ... I wasn’t miles away, I was thinking about you.”
”Oh.”
”It’s just struck me that you’re very like Aunt Florrie.”
”Oh now! Now!” She made a soft deriding noise. ”Your Aunt Florrie isn’t only the smartest dressed woman in the town she’s the best looking too, if I’m any judge.”
”Well . . . well, I wasn’t meaning your face, I ... I was meaning your figure like.”
”Oh thank you. Thank you.”
”Aw, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re all right.”
The Man Who Cried Page 16
