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got it from some place. On the other hand though you could have got it from him who did the trick on her. But only God knows who that was, likely one of many. Aye, lass, grope for support, I think you’d better sit down.”
”Leave her alone, Mr Donnelly.” Dick moved towards Hilda. ”And I think you’d better go.”
”Bugger me eyes ! don’t you start, young ’un, else I’ll soon deal with you. I’ll go when I’m ready, you hear me! I’ll go when I’m
ready.”
”Sit down. Come, sit down, Aunt Hilda.”
Hilda didn’t sit down, what she did was to push Dick’s hand aside; then gulping in her throat, she stretched her neck upwards two or three times before she spoke, and as she spoke she bent her body forward in the direction of the old man and what she said was, ”Do you know something ?
Do you know something, Mr Fred Donnelly ? That’s the best news I’ve heard for years, it’s the best news I’ve heard in me life.” Her voice was rising almost to a scream now. ”You think you’ve done me down, don’t you, by spewing this at me ? Well, you couldn’t have done me a better service. Now I feel clean. Do you hear me ? I feel clean because I know I’m not connected with you. Now again I say get out. Get out of my house and I never want to set eyes on you again ever. Ever.”
The old man remained standing. His jaw moving from side to side ground his teeth into audible sound. Then almost jumping round he made for the door, dragged it open, paused for a moment to unloosen the dogs, then went down the yard in a staggering run.
Dick stood and watched him for a moment before turning to Molly, who had stood mute through all this. He motioned to her to go to Hilda, who had now turned and was standing with her raised arms and hands pressing against the mantelborder, her head drooped forward in between them, and he whispered to her, ”I’ll get Dad ”
Abel was at the far end of the garage working on a lathe and when Dick made frantic gestures to him to stop the machine he did so, then said, ”What’s the matter?”
”Everything, I should say.” Dick’s tone was the same as he had used last night on the walk back from Florae’s.
I’What do you mean, everything?” Mr Donnelly’s just been. He must have taken you at your 203
word that there would be a room for him here. V$ell, Aunt Hilda seemed to have other ideas about having him in the house and she told him so. He was very drunk, at least he was when I first saw him but I think he’s sobered up now. He ... he made a disclosure which he imagined would floor her. Well apparently it didn’t. But that might just be on the surface. . . .” ! Abel was wiping his hands on a piece of tow as he said, briskly,
”What disclosure? What did he say? Get on with it.” j ”Oh, you needn’t worry.” Dick’s face was tight. ”He told her
! that Florrie was going to have a child but he didn’t mention the man ... he must have forgetten.” ;j ”Now, now! lad, don’t you start that again. What did he come ill to sa^?”
i!*j* ”Apparently he didn’t come to say anything, he only wanted to stay here, but when she wouldn’t have him he just told her that she doesn’t belong to him. He told a long tale about a woman he
!ii loved, someone who married his brother, and after he was killed
; in the pit she went off and got herself pregnant with somebody
^ else.”
|i When he saw Abel turn away and put his hand to his brow and i’ say, ”Lord God above ! not that,” he muttered, ”You knew about
; this?”
jl ; Abel let out a long shuddering breath as he said, ”I’ve known
’ about it for a long time.”
[ijj ”That . . . that she wasn’t old Donnelly’s daughter and . . .
! | and not Florrie’s sister?”
[ i . ”Yes, yes.”
!!|: , ”HOW?”
I ”Oh, I overheard Florrie and him going at it one day, but I
:i didn’t know then what it was all about. It was only later that j Florrie inadvertently let it out of the bag.”
!I|M ”And you’ve kept quiet about it?”
i| , Dick almost jumped as Abel rounded on him, crying now under c •: his breath, ”What do you think I should have done ? Told her that j ! she didn’t belong to them ?”
,l I ”No, no.” Dick shook his head. ”I’m sorry. Lord!” He turned to the side and now pushed his ringers through his hair, saying, ”Everything coming at once.” II,
”Yes, everything coming at once.”
; j Looking at his father, his voice and manner somewhat molli-
,,.( ’ • 204
fied now, he said, ”She’s in a state, she ... she needs comfort, but . . . but not from me.”
Abel stood with his head bowed; then after a moment, he muttered, ”Go on in; I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
”Dad.” It was the first time he had used that name for many months, and as Abel looked up at him he said, ”As I said, she knows about Aunt Florrie, but. . . but if she brings it up you . . . you won’t tell her the truth, will you? I don’t think she could stand much more, not after today’s do.
It would likely turn her brain.”
Abel glanced away for a moment, then his voice dry and throaty, he said, ”Don’t worry, I’m . . .
I’m used to lying, I’m a dab hand at it.”
As Dick went slowly out of the garage Abel looked at the piece of tow which he was still holding in his hands and he crushed it tight in his fist and for a moment he had a picture of himself in the barn straining against the iron shackles.
Slowly he opened his fist and let the tow drop from it; then he walked out of the garage and up towards the house, and as he went he hoped he wouldn’t have to lie, that she would have already sensed the truth, and that as she had turfed out her father she would also do the same with him, for then his problem would be solved.
For the moment he had forgotten about the ceremony he had gone through with her in the registry office.
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Not on that particular Saturday, nor on any day during the following six weeks did Hilda mention Florrie or her condition. She knew, without it being stated in words, who had fathered the forthcoming baby, but she realized that were she to bring it into the open, Abel would walk out on her. The disclosure would be like a licence allowing him to go free, and she couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. Life with him was a pattern of taut questions and answers during the day, and the wide gulf in the bed at night.
At nights she would lie awake on her side listening to his deep, steady breathing, and she would still her crying in case it wakened him because should he awake and hear her he would make no movement towards her, which would only add to her humiliation. She longed for him to turn to her and to cuddle her and soothe her, but he had never reacted like that for years. The very last time he had turned to her, his gentle fondling and soothing had changed swiftly into what he termed loving and she had protested with as much energy as he was using, saying, ”I’m tired, I’ve had a hard day and . . . and I want none of that. You can’t act like a human being for five minutes.”
That phrase, you can’t act like a human being, had the same effect as that of the last nail in her coffin for now she knew she was literally dead to him as far as emotion went.
Slowly and terrifyingly she knew there,was growing in her another being, a questioning being, an anti-religious being, an anti-Reverend Gilmore being. It was a woman who was asking wouldn’t she have saved herself years of unhappiness if she had been able to look upon this act, which her mind told her was dirty, in a non-religious way. Or again, look upon it as the women in the Bible did? Mr Gilmore was always reading and quoting
”•’••’•’ 206
’&&
the women of the Bible, but when you got down to rock bottom what were they ? A lot of Mary Magdalenes, a lot of whores. But were they any the worse for that? Christ hadn’t thought so, so why had she felt that she had to be better than them ?
One consolation she was finding, and which remained a surprise, was the fact that Dick was on her side; and what was of equal surprise was the knowledge that there was an open rift between him and his father. The child had adored his father, the schoolboy had adored his father, the youth . . . the early youth had adored his father, but the young man had cut down on his adoration, and the man of nineteen certainly didn’t adore his father, and she felt she knew the reason for it! Dick must have been aware of Abel’s association with Florrie and had spoken boldly out against it. Perhaps at bottom this was the reason for his nerves. But no, this nervous business had been growing since he was sixteen.
At times she wondered what she would do without his support, and Molly’s. Molly was a nice girl. They planned to marry next year. The sooner the better, she thought, because it was strange how attractive a plain girl could suddenly become to certain men when it became known that she now owned a big house and a good piece of land, not to mention a few thousand pounds.
Men were crafty, wily, out for the best chance; they’d jump at anything that offered a good set-up. Abel had jumped at a good home and business ; he hadn’t married her because he loved her, he had never loved her, she knew that now. She had known it from the beginning, but she had loved him. . . . Yet could you love without the other thing ? He had said you couldn’t, it was all part of the whole. Aw, life was hell.
Eeh! she must stop thinking that way; she was using terms in her mind that would have brought her to her knees a few years
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l’
ago. Twice this week she had brought out the e^lamation My God! Only yesterday she had said
”Damn it!” when the milk boiled over the stove. She was changing, she knew^she was changing and she was afraid, and sad, afraid both of the change in herself and sad that it was too late for it to have any effect on Abel.
Abel, too, had changed, at least towards her, during the past weeks. His manner had been softer, he was more considerate. He had stopped spending all his spare time, even part of his dinnertime, up in the workshop whittling away at those animals of his. Twice recently she had come in from church meetings to find the tea-break cups washed up and the table set for the evening meal. She hadn’t remarked on it because she feared she would have said, as her mother used to say, ”It’s thin butter on your conscience. ...” Her mother . . . she wasn’t going to go into that again because no matter what kind of a face she had put on when that revelation had been thrown at her it had caused a wound inside her which was still wide open.
She stood now looking down the yard at the passing army trucks. The war was in its third year, it couldn’t go on for ever. When it was over people would want cars, they’d want to get away on holidays, business could soar. But would it matter if it didn’t ? No, not if Abel wasn’t with her.
What would he do when the baby was born ? He wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself then, he’d be bound to give himself away . . . and what then ? Would she raise Cain and give him the chance to walk out ? or would she humble herself and say ”Don’t leave me, Abel. You can see to her and the child, only don’t leave me?”
She turned from the window and went through the kitchen and into the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom, and there, sitting on the edge of the bed, she covered her face with her hands for a moment. But when her throat became tight with tears she rose quickly from the bed again, muttering to herself, ”Don’t. Don’t,” because she knew that if he came in and asked why she was crying there would bound to be a show-down.
She went and stood in front of the mirror and appraised herself. She was thirty-seven. She hadn’t a line on her face or a grey hair in her head. She looked much younger than her years, and she could still be called pretty. But then there was her figure. She had put on pounds lately, and she couldn’t afford to put on
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pounds, not with her height. If only she could stop eating. She moved nearer to the mirror and fingered her cheeks. She had a better skin than their Florrie. She shook her head impatiently: why couldn’t she stop saying their. Their Florrte. She was no longer their Florrie or our Florrie as she herself was no longer our Hilda. Oh no, she was no longer our Hilda to either that horrible old devil or his daughter.
Yet, when she asked the question of the mirror her thoughts fell into the old idiom: Why do they all fall for our Florrie ? What is she after all? She’s got no looks to speak of, and no figure; a yard of pump water, that’s what she looks like ... so why ?”
The only answer she gave herself was ”Men”, and on this she turned from the mirror and went from the room, her head moving from side to side as if in denial of the truth her mind was presenting to her with regard to the attractiveness of their Florrie.
Florrie’s baby was born near midnight on a Thursday night but Abel didn’t see it until twenty-four hours later, which meant he hadn’t seen her for forty-eight hours altogether. She was in high spirits when he had left her on the Wednesday afternoon. The child wasn’t due for another week and she laughingly said she had never felt better in her life except that she had put on a little weight and she would have to see about getting it off.
He entered as usual by the garden door. After turning his key in it he had pushed it slightly open and slid in between it and the blackout, but as his hand went to pull the blackout aside it was stayed by the sound of a baby’s cry, a young baby’s cry. His mouth fell into a gape, his eyes widened, then he was round the curtain staring at Fred Donnelly coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray. It was the old man who spoke first and what he said was typical. ”Taken your bloody time, haven’t you?” he said.
”Sh. . .e’shadit?”
”Well what the hell do you think that is cryin’ ? Me whippets haven’t been at it so you can’t blame them.” He grinned from ear to ear at his joke. *< : ,-,,-. ..,-:, .; ,%, :H
”Is. . .is she all right?” -....’ ..<- - ;’.,: > J ••”’•
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”Well, you’re not likely to find out stafltjin’ there glued to the bloody spot, are you ?”
Abel closed his eyes for a moment, smiled weakly, then hurried across the room and into the bedroom. But once inside he again became still and looked towards the bed where Florrie was sitting propped up with pillows, and to the side of her in a cot was the howling baby.
He gazed from one to the other and it was she, like her father, who had to stir him into movement, saying, ”Well, if you’re coming in, come in; there’s somebody wants to see you.”
Ignoring the child for a moment, he walked slowly up to the bed; then sitting on its edge, he leant towards her and gathered her into his arms. Presently, he drew himself away and, looking into her face, asked quietly, ”Are you all right ?”
”Perfectly all right.” She cocked her chin upwards. >.
”When . . . when?”
”Near midnight last night.”
”But . . . but you were all right when I left you?”
”Yes, I was, but you weren’t gone five minutes until I knew something was afoot. I phoned Mrs Kent and she came straightaway; then later on the doctor came. He said it was the quickest thing he had seen in years.”
”Was it bad, hard?”
”Well” - she sighed - ”I wouldn’t want to go through it again this week.”
He laughed and drooped his head against her brow, and as he sat like this she said, ”You’re not interested at all in what we’ve got?”
”Oh! Florrie. Florrie!” He rose quickly now from the bed a
nd went round to the other side and stood over the cot looking down on the crinkled face, on the working lips and blinking eyelids and the head with a tuft of hair sticking up from the crown.
After a moment, lifting his eyes to her, he said, ”What is it?”
”It’s a baby.” Her voice was loud now and tinged with laughter; then she added softly, ”A girl.”
”A girl.” His smile widened. ”I’m glad. Oh yes, I’m glad. Are you?”
”Yes, of course. I wouldn’t have minded either way, but I think I am ... I am glad it’s a girl.”
He came round the foot of the bed again and sat beside her, 210
then said anxiously, ”How are you managing ? You’re going to see about Mrs Kent staying?”
”Don’t worry, Mrs Kent’s been. She’s coming in every day; and Dad . . . well” - she nodded towards the bedroom door ”he’s been marvellous. Of course he shocks everybody within earshot but nevertheless he’s . . . he’s been marvellous.” Her face lost its smile now as she ended, ”I’ve been glad of him. Abel.”
”Yes, yes, I suppose you have ... I should have been here.”
”I’m glad you weren’t.”
”You are? Why?”
”Well. Well, you would have stayed all night and there would have been questions. You know what I mean.”
”Oh! Florrie.” Again he was holding her, talking into her hair now. ”How am I going to stand it ?”
”It will become a pattern. Don’t worry, we’ll work something out.”
Raising his head he looked at her steadily as he said, ”Don’t you want me with you all the time?”
The Man Who Cried Page 24
