”Oh, jogging along, same old pattern. But like you, business is pretty flat except for the bikes.
But then I do part time at the factory an’ all now.”
After a moment he looked at his watch, then said, ”I’m afraid I’ll have to be going, Florrie, I’m on duty.”
”Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” She moved to the front of the couch. ”I didn’t mean to keep you.”
”Nonsense. Don’t talk rot. Look, I’ll pop along tomorrow. What time will you be in?”
”I’m in most nights after six. But Hilda ... I wouldn’t want to...”
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”It’s all right.” He nodded at her. ”I’ll be alongtomorrow night. Now get yourself to bed. . . .
Don’t get up.”
’I’ve got to see to the blackout.”
At the heavily curtained French windows they stood looking at each other and she said quietly,
”Thank you, Abel; it’s helped a
lot.”
He said nothing but turned quickly from her and went out.
When he reached the end of the drive he stopped for a moment before going into the street and he muttered to himself, ”He wouldn’t die before he heard her say ’I love you, Peter.’ ”
Would he himself live long enough to hear her say ”I love you, Abel?”
God Almighty! Wasn’t his life complex enough already? He should say it was. At times, and more so of late, he had the desire to straighten it out by walking out; but then he would remember he had walked out once before, and what had he walked into ? Yet in this moment he knew that if he could make Florrie say the words to him that she hadn’t said to her husband, and mean them, then he wouldn’t hesitate to add another twisted strand to his life. But with one difference, not before he had come clean to her.
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”What are you going to do about that boy?”
Abel always knew Hilda was furious when she referred to Dick as your son, or that boy, but he also knew that her fury had no connection whatever with Dick. ;
”What do you expect me to do ?”
”Get him to a doctor. He’s just a jangle of nerves; he’s beginning to stammer now.”
”It’s mere excitement because he’s got to go before the board next week.”
”You know that they’ll never take him in that state.”
”Yes, I know; but he’s got to find that out for himself.” He rounded on her now, his voice low and harsh. ”He’s determined he’s not going to be like me, a conscientious objector, he’s going to show that he’s for this war, so let him go and try.”
Hilda stared at him, and her voice seemingly calm, she said, ”You know something, you don’t seem to care what happens to him. His nerves have got worse over the past two years and you should have done something about it. Why wouldn’t you let me take him to the doctor and to see a psychiatrist when I told you it was my belief that he was worrying over something?”
He turned from her and picked up his overcoat from a chair, and as he put it on he said, ”Boys go through this phase.”
”Not without a reason they don’t. Mr Gilmore . . .” She stopped abruptly even before he shot round on her, crying, ”I don’t want to hear any more of Mr Gilmore’s advice ! You tell Mr Gilmore that when I want his help I’ll come and ask for it, and by God! that’ll be some days ahead.”
He fastened the buttons on his coat now as if he were testing the strength of the thread with which they were sewn on; then snatching his trilby hat from the chair, he started towards the 170
kitchen door; and he had opened it before she said, ”Where you going?”
He turned his head and stared at her before he answered, ”It’s Sunday, me half day, isn’t it? I can go where I like; I’m free on me half day.”
Her face was working now, her lips trembling as she cried at him ”Don’t tell me you’re going tramping and it coming down heavens hard.”
”I never said anything about going tramping.”
”Oh you! You!” Her lips pressed themselves tightly together after the words and then sprang wide as she cried, ”I know where you’re off to.”
”Well, why ask the road you know then ?”
”You’re a disgrace! That’s what you are, you and her, you’re shameful.”
He now stepped quickly back into the kitchen and closed the door; and standing stiffly, he looked down on her as he said, ”Put your hat and coat on and come along with me. She’s your sister, she’s lonely, she needs someone.”
”Lo . . . nely!” The word, broken up, trembled out of her mouth as if it were bouncing over rocks.
”Her! who’s had every man in the town, an’ some. And then her husband not dead five minutes.”
”Her husband’s been dead six months, and after your two secret visits to her you’ve never looked in on her since. If it wasn’t for her father and me she’d have nobody.”
”Oh my -” she just stopped herself from saying ”God!” by clapping her hand over her mouth and turning her head away. But swiftly she looked back at him again, glaring at him now and crying,
”You know what you are, Abel Gray ? You’re a thankless beast, a godforsaken thankless beast.
I’ve done everything for you and that boy since you came in that yard all those years gone, and what have you given me in return ?”
His brows were in a deep furrow, his eyes half closed. ”What have I given you in return ? Only twelve to fourteen hours every day except an occasional Saturday and me Sunday afternoon.
Apart from that I’ve tried to give you love, but you wouldn’t have any of it.”
”Love!” Her upper lip curled away from her teeth. ”You call that love? The very thought of it makes me sick.”
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”Yes, it would.” He nodded at her, his voice andrtnien quiet now. ”Yes, I’ve realized that for a long time now, Hilda, you’re the kind of woman, you’re the kind of female that would be sickened by that kind of love because there’s so little woman in you. You wouldn’t understand that, but, you know, there are females and women, and males and men.”
She took two steps back from him now, her head shaking, her voice trembling as she said, ”You think you’re clever, don’t you ? You can talk round things, you can make black seem white, but you can’t make a prostitute into a good woman, or into a good female, and that’s what she is.
And you in your way are as bad. Yes you are. All those women, the woman on the boat, and the woman who was supposed to chain you up. Now I’m telling you, and I mean this, I’m not putting up with any more of it. You’ll put a stop to it or else ...”
He stared at her for a moment and, his voice still quiet, he turned from her, saying, ”Well, just as you decide, Hilda, just as you decide.”
When the door closed on him she covered her face with her hands, then stumbled towards it and leant against it, and she moaned aloud, asking all the while, Why ? why ... ?
Walking with his head bent against the driving rain, Abel, too, was asking himself why? why?
Why must he be so cruel to her? And he realized he was cruel. Yes, it was true, she had given him everything she could since he had entered that yard all those years ago. All but the one thing, the main thing, because that was so distasteful to her. But did the fault lie with himself? his lack of understanding what it had been like for her to be married to an old man, who apparently had insisted on the union being based on virginal lines ? God ! when he came to think of it, that would be enough to twist any young lass, send her headlong to hell wanting it, or fearing it as she did.
Where would it end ?
Well, he could end it tomorrow by telling her the truth. No ! No! He couldn’t see anything making him go that far because strange as it seemed he knew that she loved him, she really did love him. She loved him as deeply in her own way as he loved Florrie, and because of that at times he could feel compassion for her.
His love for Florrie was burning him up - it was torture to be
with her, and it was torture not to be with her - but things were
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coming to a head. Yet before they did he’d have to talk to her, tell her the truth.
He was wet through by the time he knocked on the french windows and when she opened them to him she exclaimed on a laugh, ”You look like a drowned rat, an outsize one.”
”I feel like one. It isn’t only raining, it’s sleeting.”
”Give them here; I’ll hang them in the kitchen.” She was helping him off with his coat. ”I’ll just make some tea ... I’ve been baking.”
”Good, good. What do I smell?” He sniffed.
”Apple tart, scones, made with liquid parafin, have your pick. . . . No, you can’t!” She flapped her hand at him. ”The apple tart’s too hot to cut.”
As she disappeared into the kitchen he went towards the fire and, bending down, he rubbed the palms of his hands together. Presently he turned about and stood with his back to the blaze. He felt more at home in this room than in any place he could ever remember. He supposed it was because it looked like her, elegant, warm, colourful.
Colourful ?
She was coming back into the room now carrying a tray and as he went forward and took it from her he knew he wasn’t linking colour to her skin, for her face was white and drawn. How old was she now ? Forty-one. There were times when she didn’t look thirty but one of those wasn’t today.
”You’re not feelin’ well?”
”Oh, I’m all right, in one way that is.” She was pouring out the tea now and she paused as she said, ”I’ve had the hump for days. I don’t know.” She moved her head slowly. ”It doesn’t seem any use going on, nothing to look forward to. I’ve . . . I’ve even lost my interest in men.” She laughed a high almost hysterical laugh now and pushed him with the flat of her hand almost upsetting the cup of tea he had just picked up, and still laughing she cried, ”I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Then her manner sobering again, she drank from her cup, in between times saying rather sadly, ’Hardly a week used to go by before but I’d have an invitation of one kind or another, and now the only ones I seem to get are nudges in the dark from the uniformed lads. I must be losing me touch.”
”Never! Not you.” ’ •..,_..,.
*73
*-”*•
”Oh, I forgot.” She laughed derisively. ”I did hav^an invitation last week. It was funny really. He came into the shop, he said he’d seen me for the last two or three days from Middleton’s, you know the boarding-house across the way. He was just passing through, he said. . . . His business ? Oh, he couldn’t tell me, it was a sort of secret, and he offered to spend a secret night with me. Brazen as brass he was. He seemed surprised when I showed him out of the shop.”
She put her cup down on the table, then crossed her legs and leant her elbow on the arm of the couch as she said slowly, ”You know, Abel, once upon a time I would have laughed at that, it would have given me a giggle, but... but it didn’t this time, instead it made me feel awful, cheap, low. You know what?” She turned her head slowly and looked towards him. ”When he had gone I thought of our Hilda and I asked meself if she was right after all, did I look a tart ?”
”Stop it! Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was harsh. ”You look as much of a tart as I look a pansy boy.”
”Oh, Abel.” She was laughing in a jerky fashion but more naturally. ”Some pansy boy, you!”
”Well, you’re as near to a tart as that. Take it from me. That fellow sounds the kind of bloke who would have tried it on with Hilda at a pinch.”
As they stared at each other they both bit on their bottom lips. Then their laughter was joined; loud, raw, they rocked with it. Perhaps it was the rocking that brought her into his arms but once she was there he held her tightly pressed against him, and a great heat swept through his veins as he realized that her arms were around him too and holding him as close as he was holding her.
When their laughter ebbed away they looked at each other, their faces wet but straight now; still enfolded they leant against the couch and no word passed between them. The seconds ticked away and formed minutes and not until after what seemed to be an eternity did he whisper, ”Aw, Florrie.”
And she answered simply, ”Abel.”
”It’s been a long, long time, Florrie.”
”A long, long time, Abel.”
”How long have you known that. . . that I’ve felt this way about you?”
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”I don’t know. I only know how long I’ve felt ibis way «bout you.”
”Aw, Florrie. Really? Really?”
”Yes really, Abel. Remember that night in this room when . . . when we were getting on so well and he walked in, Charles. That seemed to finish it. Well, he had come to bid me a final good-bye, he was leaving for America with his family. But even then it was too late, you had taken my advice with regard to Hilda.”
The mention of Hilda’s name pierced his mind and cast a shadow on the joy of the moment, and now, taking his arms from about her, he caught hold of her hands and, looking into her face, he said, ”I’ve got to tell you something. It’s a long story, it’s the story of my life, Florrie, but before I do it I’m going to say this to you : I’ve only ever loved one other woman in me life and then it was only for a very, very short period. It seems to me now at times that it never happened, and in this life I’ve only ever known you. And I’ll tell you this, I’ve loved you, Florrie; and, yes, I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you. And it’s got worse with the years. I thought, when you married, that was that, but no it wasn’t. Still I’m not saying I’m happy about your Peter going.
But he’s gone, and so now I can say to you, I love you, Florrie, I love you with all my heart. Here I am, on forty-eight, soon kicking fifty, the fires in me should have died down a bit by this time but I seem to have been stoking them up all these years just for this moment. But no more for now; I’ve got to tell you something, Florrie, something that’s going to come as a bit of a shock to you.”
He let go of her hand and moved slightly away from her as he said, ”Some years ago I broke the law and as yet I haven’t been called upon to pay the penalty, but somehow I feel that time is running out for me; more so of late, I don’t know why. Anyway, let me start at the beginning.”
So he started at the beginning. He told her of his young ideals, of how he met Lena, and the weariness of his life with her until he met Alice. After telling of the way Alice died he paused for a long moment; then he said, ”After that I had to go because even with my pacifist leanings I didn’t trust myself, not after I hit her. Once, just for a moment, I had the desire to finish her off.
It was after I found out she had written to the husband and the result of it. It was then I knew I had to get away from her, for both our sakes.”
Jfc
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He now went on to tell her the little episode of ffce boat and of how only a few months ago the young girl had recognized him; but it wasn’t until he came to the story of Miss Matilda and of changing his name that Florrie moved, and here she put her hand to her mouth and shook her head in disbelief.
Then he ended, ”I hadn’t really a choice, staying put in that comfortable house with a job or . . .
The important thing was I’d been offered a home for the boy. I can honestly say that he was my first consideration then. If I’d been on my own, well, I would have been up and off long before that. Strangely, the longer the boy stayed in that house the greater aversion he had to walking; even today he won’t walk a step if he can ride. I’m . . . I’m not making excuses, Florrie” - he nodded his head at her - ”I’m just trying to explain the situation I was in. And, of course, there was you. Oh yes, there was you. I knew that if anything made me leave there I should lose sight of you.” He sighed now, then ended, ”So I went through a form of marriage with Hilda. The only thing I stuck out for was the registry office. It didn’t seem so illegal somehow.”
She sat now staring wide-eyed at him.<
br />
”You’re shocked?”
”No. No, I’m not shocked, but I’m amazed, and . . . and in an odd way I’m more sorry now for our Hilda because, being the sort she is, this will finish her if she ever finds out.”
He was silent for a moment during which he rested his head on the back of the couch. Then nodding as if to himself, he said, ”I don’t know. I’ve asked myself time and again how it would affect her if it came to light and somehow I can’t see her going to pieces, because you know, Florrie, there’s a band of steel running through that little frame of hers.”
She said nothing for a moment, then asked, ”Have you deliberately prevented her from having a child?”
”Yes.”
”Do you think that was right ?’”
”It was better than bringing a bastard into the world. Now that fact would have killed her.”
”But she’s always wanted a child. The only time we ever exchanged confidences she told me that she wanted children.”
”Then why did she go and marry a man like Maxwell ? As for wanting children, she certainly doesn’t hold with what. . .”
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She broke in, saying, ”Yes, yes, you’ve a point there. I suppose she wanted so much, and if it was a toss up, it was better to have Three Newton Road and be childless than have Bog’s End and babies so to speak. But, oh Abel, I hope she never finds out, not only for her sake but for yours.
You . . . you could go to prison.”
”Oh, I’ve thought of that, oh yes; yet sometimes I think it would be preferable to the life I’m leading because then the burden would be off my back . . . and Dick’s.”
”Dick’s?”
”Yes.”
”Oh, of course, he ... he must have known.”
”Oh, he knew all right. And can you imagine the pressure I had to put on him in order to make him forget that his mother was still alive. I feel very bad about this at times because it’s now he’s paying the price.”
”In what way?”
”He’s a bundle of nerves; he’s got a twitch to his shoulder, and he’s even stammering now. He thinks he’ll get into the air force, but they won’t look at him, not in his state; and he’ll blame me.
The Man Who Cried Page 20
