She also watched the man hesitate a moment, seeming to take her mother in in one hard blue glance; then taking the outstretched hand, he said, ‘I do very well, ma’am. How do you do?’
Fiona had to turn her head away. The chase was on, but the scent was misleading.
‘I’m so pleased my daughter has decided to take a paying guest…’
‘Paying guest?’ His head turned sharply towards the young woman who was now his landlady, and he said, ‘That’s what I am then, a paying guest? Does that mean it will cost more than being a lodger, or are the rates the same?’ His blue eyes were twinkling and for a moment she imagined that he winked. ‘Your advert said lodger.’
He turned quickly again to Mrs Vidler when she said with a light laugh, ‘Oh, that was Mrs Green’s doing in the paper shop. She’s a very…well, ordinary person; her trade is mostly with the council house estate…’
‘Oh, aye, I see. I see.’ He was nodding. ‘And they are a very ordinary lot, very ordinary that lot.’ And he drew in his lips and knobbled his chin to emphasise how ordinary the council house lot were.
Fiona closed her eyes for a moment. Her mother wasn’t stupid; no, so couldn’t she tell she was on the wrong scent? It seemed not.
In an effort to save the situation she said, ‘Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ve just made it.’
‘No. Thanks all the same. I had a pint or two before I landed.’
‘You like a drink?’
Her mother’s tone was one of polite enquiry, and the answer came, ‘Oh, yes, ma’am; I have the same intake as a whale.’
‘You’re joking, Mr Bailey…Are you married?’
William Bailey looked at the well-preserved, once pretty woman. She was kicking sixty if he knew anything. But they never let up, did they, her sort? He allowed a pause to ensue, then a sad note in his voice, he said, ‘Four times, ma’am. And four divorces. I made the mistake in each case marryin’ a woman older than myself. I did it because I wanted to steer clear of the young ’uns, you know, like your good-looking daughter here.’ He now thumbed towards Fiona, then ended, ‘I run along the middle track of the jungle now, ma’am, well away from the hunters on both sides.’
‘Four times divorced!’
‘Struth, ma’am. Sad but true. Four times divorced.’ And now pulling a wry face, he said, ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll sit down. I stand most of the day, and so when I can I always take a pew.’ And he lowered himself into an easy chair whilst looking across at the open-mouthed woman and saying, ‘I’d get me legs up an’ all, if I was you, ma’am, for there’s nothing brings on varicose veins in advancing years like standin’ about.’
Fiona daren’t look at her mother whose face was almost purple now. And her mother was right; she had made a mistake in thinking that this lodger business would solve her problems, for this one was going to be a problem in himself.
She now followed her mother as she made her stiff-backed exit from the sitting room without wishing the paying guest goodbye, and she made sure that she closed the sitting-room door behind her, for she knew what would happen in the hall.
‘He’s impossible, dreadful. Get rid of him. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.’
‘Mother, I…I have a notion he was just pulling your leg.’
‘Pulling my leg indeed! Varicose veins, and indicating that I was an old woman! He’s dreadful, coarse, ignorant, the worst of his class I’ve ever come across. You simply can’t let him stay.’
‘He has paid a month in advance, Mother, and I’ve already spent a third of it in stocking up the freezer, et cetera.’
‘I’ll make it good, I’ll do without my holiday.’
‘Mother’—she pressed her towards the front door—‘leave it for the time being. If I find him impossible, he’ll go. Believe me.’
‘And this business that he doesn’t like young women, that’s all my eye.’
Fiona smiled primly now as she said, ‘You’re using a common expression, Mother.’
‘Oh, girl! don’t you start. Now look, get on that phone if he starts any funny business. Do you hear me? Get on that phone.’
‘I hear you, Mother. And the minute he starts any funny business I’ll shout for help.’
Her mother had taken three steps from the front door when she turned about and came back, saying in a stage whisper, ‘It isn’t right, you being in this house alone with him.’
‘Hardly alone, Mother, with three children. And I have a son who will guard me, never fear.’
‘Fiona.’ The finger was wagging now. ‘There’s nothing funny about this business. I wouldn’t trust that man as far as I could toss him.’
Her mother was indeed worried, as her speaking in the vernacular proved. And she herself wasn’t seeing anything funny about this business, either; for at this moment she was wishing that she hadn’t spent so much of his advance payment, for she still retained enough of her mother’s character to admit she didn’t really know how she was going to put up with him.
And a moment later when she entered the sitting room she was startled by his first words: ‘I know. I know. You don’t know how you’re gonna put up with me. I’m brash, loud, vulgar, the lot. Well, that’s me. But not as bad as I have just portrayed meself to your mother. Sit down and let’s talk this out.’
‘I haven’t time to sit down, Mr Bailey.’
‘Oh, then that means me gettin’ to me feet. Well now, here I am on me pins, standing trial, and I’m going to add to me brashness by telling you straightaway I could see what your mother was after as soon as I set eyes on her. And the reason why I’m here at all is that I have just escaped from a similar type. They’re the very devil, you know, women like your mother.’
‘You put a high value on yourself, don’t you, Mr Bailey? How do you know my mother isn’t married and has no need of…er…another man?’
‘Oh, I learnt that from Mrs Green; she gave me the rough details. You have been widowed for three years, your mother for four. Would you like to know her recommendation in her own words?’
‘Not necessarily, thank you.’
‘Well, I’ll give them to you, necessarily or not. The old ’un, Mrs Green said, is a bit of an upstart. But the young one’s all right. She couldn’t have been fairer than that, could she?’ They stared at each other; and then he, laughing, said, ‘Let’s clear the air a bit further eh? I’m not after anybody’s blood, young or old. As I said, I steer a middle course; I value me freedom. And that was a lot of boloney about me being married an’ divorced four times. It was once. And that was more than enough. Not that I don’t enjoy meself, mind.’ His chin was knobbled again. ‘But if I have a love, it’s me work.’ He leaned towards her now, saying, ‘You were surprised the other day, weren’t you, to know I was the boss of the show? Thought I was a brickie, didn’t you?’
‘I had no thoughts about you at all, Mr Bailey. We were discussing a business deal, and as you are a businessman you will know that it is wise to keep personalities in their place.’
‘Oh, come off it. Sayin’ that proves you know nothing about business, and once you tell them to keep their place that’s when you have trouble. Like now, with the strikes. But speaking of places, the way you meant it, don’t worry, I know me place, and I like it, and I mean to stick to it. So now, if you will excuse me’—his voice changed into one of pseudo-refinement—‘I’ll go and see if my valet has unpacked. What time is dinner?’
She had to force herself to say, ‘I’ll make it for whatever time is convenient to you.’
‘Well say, it being Saturday, make it for five; I like a long Saturday night out.’
He was walking away from her when he turned his head towards her and added, ‘On the tiles.’
He was hardly out of the room before she flopped into a chair and, resting her elbow on the arm and her head in the palm of her hand, she swayed herself slightly and muttered as she did so, ‘Oh, my God! What an individual!’
Chapter Two
‘Are the children ready?’
‘Yes, they’re in the sitting room waiting.’
‘It wouldn’t do any harm for you to come to church this morning…And washing on a Sunday! You never had to do anything like this before. Are you giving him notice now his month’s up?’
‘No, Mother. He has already paid another month in advance.’
‘You’re asking for trouble; you know that. I saw Minnie Hatton the other day, and she says he’s got a name.’
‘Oh, Minnie Ha-Ha says more than her prayers, and she whistles them.’
‘What! The way you talk. I suppose you’ve got that from him. And where is he today? Still in bed?’
‘No, Mother; he’s in Liverpool, visiting his father.’
‘Liverpool? Is that where he comes from? Well, what can you expect, coming from a place like that?’
‘Mother, let up for goodness’ sake!…I’ll call the children.’
At this Fiona marched from the kitchen, banging the door after her.
In the sitting room, she said, ‘Come on…And I told you to sit up straight, Katie, and not lie about in that dress.’
‘I don’t want to go, Mam; I don’t like going to church with Grandma.’
‘When’s Mr Bill coming back? He said he might be earlier.’
‘When did he tell you that, Mark?’
‘Just before he left. He’s going to get us tin whistles and we’re going to practise “Bill Bailey”.’
‘You’re going to practise no such thing…And stand up straight, Katie.’
‘I want to go to the toilet.’
‘You’ve had plenty of time to go to the toilet, Willie. Now all of you get yourselves out, your grandmother’s waiting. And behave yourselves; I want no bad reports.’
When, standing together, the three of them all looked up at her, she made a sudden dive for them and put her arms around them. And they clung to her and laughed.
‘Be good,’ she said softly. ‘It isn’t for long, only an hour. And I’m making you a chocolate mousse for your lunch.’
‘Oh, goodie!’ They were all about to make a rush for the door when her voice checked them in a harsh whisper: ‘Walk!’
As if governed by the one set of muscles, their faces dropped into a blank mould, and, forming into line, Mark first, followed by Katie, and then Willie, they fell into step and marched from the room.
Fiona did not immediately follow them to hear the reception they would get from their grandmother when they entered the kitchen doing their turn, as they called it; but leaning her hips against the back of the couch, she drew in a long breath as she muttered, ‘The little devils!’ Then she almost sprang into the middle of the room as her mother’s voice came from the hall, crying, ‘Fiona! Fiona!’
‘Yes? What is it?’
‘I’ve told them they’re coming back with me for lunch, but they have informed me in one voice that they are coming straight home. Will you please tell them that they are to do what they’re told? I’ve already prepared the lunch; and I’m doing this to give you a break. So will you please tell them what they’ve got to do?’
Fiona told her small brood what they had to do, and promised them she’d keep the chocolate mousse intact for when they came home. Then she watched them walking dejectedly down the pathway behind her mother: Katie as if she had a hump on her back, Mark dragging his feet, and Willie aiming to kick the toes out of his best shoes. Returning to the kitchen, she emptied the washing machine into the dryer; then made herself a cup of coffee, sat down by the table that overlooked the back garden, and told herself she should now mow the lawn, then start on the weeding of the vegetable patch at the bottom. But she also told herself she was going to do none of these things, she was going upstairs, take a bath, give her face a do, and that definitely needed it, then put on a decent dress and sit in the garden and have a read.
She looked at the clock. It was half-past ten. Take all in all, she would have at least three hours to herself, which didn’t often happen on a Sunday. The hall clock was striking twelve when she came downstairs; and going into the small room that had been her husband’s study, she took a book from the shelf, then stood looking around her as she thought, Why can’t I let him use this to do his paperwork. I never liked the room when Ray was here, because he was always shut away in it, it was forbidden territory to both me and the children. So why…? Oh! She jerked her chin up, then went out, took a deckchair from the outside store and placed it under the silver birch, the one big tree in the garden, and settled down to read.
But she hadn’t read the first chapter of the book when she dropped it into her lap and, leaning back, let her thoughts wander over the happenings of the past few weeks, which weren’t all unpleasant, and a restful form of sleep was about to overcome her when the voice hit her.
‘So this is what you do when you’re left on your own!’
She pulled herself up so quickly that she almost toppled sideways out of the chair.
‘I…I didn’t expect you back until this evening. You said…’
‘Yes, yes, I know what I said. But here I am. Where’s everybody? Where’s the kids?’
‘At church.’
When she made an effort to rise his hand came out, the palm vertical like that of a policeman on point duty, and he said, ‘Stay where you are. I’ll get another chair.’
She watched him stride across the lawn towards the shed. He looked smart. His clothes were always good, well-fitting. There was something different about him, though she couldn’t put a finger on it at the moment.
He placed the chair at an angle to her own, and then she saw the difference: his sideburns were gone, and his hair was cut much shorter.
During the few weeks they had been together he had developed the unfortunate knack of picking up her thoughts, as he did now, saying, ‘Yes you see, they’re gone.’ He rubbed his forefingers up each side of his face. ‘Think you’ll be able to tolerate me better now? Oh, don’t get on your high horse.’ His hand was out again, flapping towards her now. ‘Anyway, you didn’t like them.’
‘What do you mean, I didn’t like them? It’s of no interest to me how you wear your hair: clean-shaven, or bearded, or…’
‘Well, why did you say you couldn’t stand men with sideburns?’
‘Me say that! I never…’
‘Well, your daughter must be tellin’ lies.’
Oh Katie. Katie. She turned her head to the side.
‘Anyway, I feel I look better scraped and scalped.’
She was looking at him again, saying now, ‘You’re such a modest man, aren’t you, Mr Bailey?’
‘Yes, Mrs N. That’s one of my virtues, no vanity about me.’ He grinned. Then looking around the garden, he said, ‘The place is dead without the kids. And this lawn wants a cut. We’ll have a bite, and then I’ll do it.’
‘There’s no need; I always see to the lawn.’
‘Yes, you see to everything, don’t you? Bloody little wonder, you are. Oh, I’m sorry.’ He pursed his lips. ‘But you know, you would make a saint swear at times. Here I’ve been in the same house with you for four and a half weeks, and you’re still Mrs N and I’m still Mr Bailey. Look’—he leant towards her—‘I’m not after anything. I’ve told you not once but a dozen times since I came here, I’m a middle-of-the-road man.’
‘Please. Please.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘There’s people in the garden next door.’
‘Well, it’ll give them something to talk about, pass their time. And I’m not far wrong in thinkin’ that they’re interested already in the goings-on in number sixteen; the one, two doors down’—he thumbed over his shoulder—‘always manages to be at the gate when I draw up. And she seems very interested in the weather. She asked me yesterday if I thought it was going to rain.’
Fiona lowered her head. There was a gurgle in her stomach; it was rising up to her breastbone. She mustn’t laugh at him, because what would happen if he were given encouragement
she didn’t know. He was leaning towards her again, his voice low now as he went on, ‘“How long is the heat goin’ to last?” she said. And I answered, “Oh, as long as the weather does, ma’am.” And then she asked me if I was going away for the weekend. And I said, “Aye, ma’am; yes, I am. I’m going to Greenham Common to keep the lasses company because they couldn’t have seen a good-looking fella like me for a long time, and I bet some of them need more than the weather to warm them up.”’
‘You didn’t!’ The words came out almost on a hiss. And he hissed back at her, ‘I did! And then, you know what she did?’
She waited.
‘She flounced. That’s a Victorian word, you know; the ladies flounced about then. Well, she turned and she flounced up her drive. I think, in future, when she wants to know about the weather she’ll turn on the television.’
‘You’re impossible!’ She was gulping in her throat now and her eyes were moist.
‘I know. And now do you think I could have a bite of something, I’m starvin’?’
‘Yes, of course.’
He put out his hand and helped her to her feet. And they went into the kitchen together. And as she took the cold chicken from the fridge, she said, ‘How did you find your father?’
‘I didn’t find the old…budgerigar, he had gone off to Morecambe with his girlfriend, and had never let me know. I had left him this telephone number an’ all.’
‘Your father…had gone off with…?’
‘Yes, that’s what I said, his girlfriend. And don’t look so surprised. He’s seventy-four, but he doesn’t look his age; he could pass for sixty any day, and he acts fifty. And she’s just on that. Look, the way you’re holding that knife, you’ll cut yourself.’
She said slowly, ‘You must take after your father.’
‘Aye, I do. And I couldn’t have a better pattern. He’s been a good father to me. And I had a good mum an’ all. She was a gentle woman, in the real sense of the word, except for her hands. She had a hand like a steel brush and she laid it across me at least once a week. But mind, I deserved it. You know, it’s funny, they say men usually marry women that represent their mothers, like. You know? But in my case I went and married one that was exactly the replica of meself, brash and bouncy. I never knew what it was to live with meself until I woke up one morning an’ discovered that that was what I was doing. It’s all right for a man to be loud-mouthed. Well, it all depends upon how he uses it. If it’s with panache—that’s a good word, isn’t it—like I do…well! But with a woman it’s different, gets on your nerves. I can’t stand a brash woman. Of course, I had to learn that. I also had to learn that you can’t change people. Rub off some edges here and there, but you don’t really change them…Here, give me the knife; or that poor chicken’ll wish it was dead.’
Bill Bailey Page 2
