The House of Women

by Catherine Cookson

  Peggy stared at the woman before her; she seemed to have no connection with the Rosie Milburn that had been so helpful in the house. And yet, on closer inspection she realised it was because this woman had hardly any flesh on her bones and Rosie had been plump, all over.

  Her voice was stiff as she said, ‘What did you want to speak to me about?’

  ‘Well, you know’—the head wagged—‘just to say I’m sorry, but…but I couldn’t help meself at the time. I knew later I had been a damn fool but…but you’ve got to learn, haven’t you? He was a swine but I stuck by him. I’m glad he got his deserts, although it wasn’t long enough. He left me high and dry without a penny and I could have claimed the house. I could have: it was in my name. I don’t know where I’d have been if I hadn’t put a bit by of me own when I was working. But that’s not the point; I just…well, I always wanted to say I was sorry. But…but I did you a good turn, I suppose; well, you know what I mean: took him off your hands at least part of the day…you know what I mean,’ the head was wagging again.

  Peggy felt a rising pity in her for the creature that Rosie Milburn had become, and her voice sounded kindly as she said, ‘Are you living in the town again?’

  ‘Aye. I’ve been back some time. I’m with me brother again. He’s bedridden, but I’m not goin’ to be daft this time. I told him I wouldn’t stay unless he put it in writing about the house. When he goes, I’ll get the house, and that’s something: I won’t be left high and dry this time. And by the time he goes I’ll have paid for it because he hasn’t improved; he’s awful to live with; all wants and no thanks. But…but that isn’t the point, as I said; I…I just wanted to say again that I’m sorry. He’ll…he’ll come to a bad end; yes, he will. He was always on about his daughter, you know. He had a mania for her. Well, he’s lost her, but he’s got two more now.’

  Peggy’s whole face stretched as she said, ‘What do you mean, he’s got two more?’

  ‘Oh, he’s taken up with a divorced woman yon end of Gosforth, I understand. Nice house an’ all and she’s got two bairns, two little lasses, one three and one five. He might think he’s fallen on his feet but he’ll come to a bad end, you’ll see…I hear you’re going to be married again?’

  ‘I am married.’

  ‘Oh, I’m glad. Is it to the lad next door? I mean, Mr Conway?’

  ‘Yes, it’s to Mr Conway.’

  ‘That’s good; he was a nice fella. Made a name for himself an’ all with his guitar. I once heard him play; he made that thing sing.’

  When she became silent and stood, her eyes blinking, her fingers twitching one against the other, Peggy said, ‘I…I must go else I’ll miss my train.’

  ‘All right. Goodbye. Just a minute.’

  As Peggy moved away a hand came out and clutched her arm, saying, ‘D’you forgive me?’

  ‘Oh yes, don’t worry about that; in fact, I never blamed you, Rosie. And I missed you when you left, so don’t worry any more.’

  When the face crumpled she turned swiftly away and made for the ticket office. Poor soul. How could anyone change so much and in so short a time, because it was only a comparatively few years ago that she had been a plump, pretty, laughing, likeable young woman.

  She was saddened by the meeting and wondered if she could do anything for her, but told herself, no, she’d better not. Anyway, no matter what she looked like, apparently she wasn’t destitute.

  In Newcastle she picked up the altered suit. The morning had turned slightly chilly and a fine rain was beginning to fall, so she decided to go into a restaurant and have a coffee. But the first one that she approached appeared full and when, further along the street, she came to a self-service cafeteria, she went hastily inside.

  With a cup of tea in her hand she went to an empty table, and she had almost finished the drink when somebody at a near table exclaimed, ‘Look, it’s still raining but the sun’s coming out.’ She turned her head over her shoulder and looked through the window to where the wet road was glistening in the watery sunshine, and as she turned her head back she noticed a family leaving a table and moving towards the doorway. The woman looked young, in her mid-twenties and was smartly dressed, as were the children. The man had his back to her for a moment until he stopped to lift up the smaller of the two girls, and now his head seemed to be on a level with her own. She watched him hug the child to him, then straighten up, and now he stood glaring at her for a moment. She imagined he was going to make a move towards her, but what he did was hitch the child closer to him until its face was almost pressed against his own and then he smiled a smile that widened his full lips but, as she had seen before, did not separate his teeth. The young woman now looked over her shoulder and spoke to him; she was pretty and she looked happy. She began to push up an umbrella while he put his hand down and caught the hand of the elder child that was held up towards him, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on herself. Then something the woman said drew him through the doorway.

  She now heard the children’s gurgling laughter and she turned her head on her shoulder again and looked through the window. The woman was holding the umbrella over him and the children and she was laughing into his face. Then the umbrella was tilted and she saw the back of them as they moved away out of her sight.

  She sat back in her chair, her body trembling. That look on his face. It was as if he had said, ‘Look what I’ve got now; two for the price of one.’ And that girl, or that woman, or that wife; had he married her? How long would she be happy when she found out where his true love lay? Would she be like many another woman, keep her mouth shut while her children’s lives were marred and scarred forever?

  She wanted to go home; no, not home; she wanted tomorrow to come and get away. She wanted Charlie’s arms about her. She wanted his love, something good and clean…

  An hour later she was in his arms in his mother’s sitting room and she was pouring out the incident in the café. And when she ended, ‘It’ll be the case of Emma over again, only with both of them,’ he shook her gently by the shoulders saying, ‘You can do nothing about it. Yet, something is being done about it; it’s coming into the open; the authorities are taking a hand. Look at the cases on television recently. But now you can be sure of one thing; Emma is safe, not only through marriage but through his new interest. He won’t try any more tricks.’

  ‘No, he won’t try any more tricks, but those two children will likely have to pay for it.’

  ‘Well, you know what my mother’s always saying: everything in life has to be paid for, and you’ve paid for the happiness that’s going to be yours in the future. It’s been a long time from our schooldays, Peggy, but I’ve got my childhood sweetheart at last. Do you love me, Mrs Conway?’

  ‘With all my heart, Mr Conway.’

  ‘I can ask for no more then; but I can add one more thing: my heartfelt thanks in that you’re free, if not actually from the house, then from its clutch of women.’

  The End