My Beloved Son

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘And a beautiful job he made of it.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Ellen, I couldn’t agree with you more. Ah!’ He held up his hand. ‘Our peace is at an end, look what’s coming.’

  They both turned towards the staircase now to see the two boys, again with Joseph between them, coming down the stairs.

  At the bottom, Joseph tugged himself away from his cousins and, running towards his mother, he cried, ‘They did wash my ears out and they were clean! I told them they were clean but they said they had to be red and shining, else they wouldn’t pass mustard with the lord and master.’

  As the laughter ran through the hall, Arthur’s voice rose above it, crying, ‘I’ll pass muster with you two before you’re much older.’

  As the boys hung their heads and giggled Mary Smith came from the direction of the dining room and, standing on the outskirts of the group, said, ‘Dinner’s ready, Mr Arthur.’

  ‘Thanks, Mary. And we’re ready for it.’

  As he was holding out his arm to Ellen, Joseph looked up at him and asked, ‘Why does she call you Mr Arthur? Martin said you were a sir, nearly a lord…are you?’

  ‘I am not a lord, but I am called “sir”.’

  ‘Oh’—there was a note of regret in the child’s tone now—‘I wish you were a lord, like God, in Our Father which art in heaven.’

  As the boys hung on to each other in paroxysms of laughter, Joseph, realising that he had caused the amusement, took it further as he demanded, in childish glee now, ‘Will I be a “sir” when I grown up?’

  The question seemed to silence the group, and as Ellen Jebeau shook her son’s arm Arthur said quietly, even solemnly, ‘I hope not, Joe, I hope not; the implications are too great.’

  Years later, when these words, long forgotten, came back to his mind Joe was to remember the sound of his uncle’s voice, and the look on his face as he said them, on his first Christmas in the house called Screehaugh.

  Two: 1932

  ‘Are you looking forward to Oxford?’

  Martin screwed up his face as he glanced at Harry and said, ‘Yes and no. Yes, because, well, there’ll be some life up there, things going on, yet at the same time I’ll miss coming home at weekends. I love this old shanty, you know’—he looked towards his bedroom window—‘but at the same time I know I’d have to get away from it at times, and if it ever does become mine’—he turned quickly to Harry—‘God forbid that won’t happen until I’m in my dotage, but what I mean is, when it does, I think I’d still have to escape now and again. You know the feeling?’

  ‘No, ’cos I never want to escape.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t, you old stick-in-the-mud.’ Martin pushed his brother backwards, and Harry fell with a laugh onto the side of the bed. But then, his face becoming serious, he asked quietly, ‘How would you take towards Father marrying again?’

  Martin narrowed his eyes at him. ‘You’ve heard something fresh?’ he asked.

  ‘No, nothing really, just keeping my eyes open.’

  ‘What have you seen?’

  ‘Oh, just that Aunt Ellen is…well, losing control, I think, because every time Vanessa Southall goes riding with Father, she acts up mad. In fact, just before you came home last Saturday she knocked the hell out of Joe.’

  ‘She hit him?’ Martin’s face screwed up in disbelief. ‘She hit Joe?’

  ‘Yes, she did, and not just hit him, either. I would say bashed him, for she knocked him flying up against the wall; then seemingly full of contrition, she gathered him into her arms and cried over him.’

  ‘Where did this happen?’

  Harry jerked his head upwards. ‘I was upstairs rummaging about among the old train sets as I thought I might find an axle. I did, but it was too small for what I wanted, and I was just about to come down when I heard them on the stairs. I thought they’d be coming into the old nursery looking for something, books or something, because she’s always reading to him and keeping him at it. She’s aiming to make him into a walking encyclopedia and naturally he’s kicking against it, but they went across the landing and into the schoolroom, and as I opened the door I saw her take her hand and swipe the lad across the room. I felt like going and swiping her, but then she got down on her knees and started to howl over him. It…well, it was embarrassing the way she was whimpering and saying over and over again, “I’m only thinking of you, Joe, only you. It’s all for you, Joe, it’s all for you.” Well, whatever was all for Joe, I thought she had a funny way of showing it. Somehow she made the hair stand up on my neck and I did a quiet disappearing trick. You know I’ve always liked her, but after that scene last week it showed me another side of her. Perhaps it’s the side you’ve seen all along, because you’ve never cottoned to her, have you?’

  ‘No, I never have.’

  ‘Was it from the time you found out about her and father?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, although one can’t be sure, looking back to when you were twelve. Yet she didn’t seem to be in the house five minutes before she had him into her bed. Never forget the night I found out. It made me sick; I couldn’t look her in the face for ages afterwards. It affected my school work. It was old Baldy Wrighton who relieved my mind. He got it out of me what I was worrying about. I can see him now, sitting behind his desk stroking his bald pate with his fingers spread wide as if he was running them through his hair, and showing all his bad teeth as he grinned and said, “Well, your worries should be all over, Jebeau; she’ll never be your stepmother because a man can’t legally marry his brother’s wife.”

  ‘I can feel my jaw dropping now as I stared at him in relief and said, “How’s that?” Then he had me laughing as he used to do with the lot of us at the end of a lesson. “It’s the law,” he said. “And as for the act of copulation, dogs, cats, bulls and rams do it without being reminded, so you can’t expect an unintelligent beast such as a man to restrain the urge. Now can you, Jebeau?”’

  As Martin chuckled Harry said, ‘I’m afraid of old Wrighton, he’s much too clever for me. Everybody says he’s the cleverest bloke in the school and that he turned down a lectureship in the University just to stay there.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true; but this time next year I bet, like everybody else in his form, you’ll sing his praises. At the same time, though, you’ll be making up couplets about his rotten teeth and the drop at the end of his nose…But to get back to Father: there’s going to be a hell of a rumpus if he does take up with Vanessa Southall. What do you say?’

  Harry remained silent; then getting up from the bed, he walked to the window and, sitting on the wide sill, he said, ‘There’ll be more than the hell of a rumpus, there’ll be one mighty upheaval, because you can’t see Aunt Ellen knuckling down to any other woman in the house; she already considers herself mistress of it. She acts like one. To make matters worse, her rival is so much younger, not yet thirty and very attractive into the bargain.’

  Martin went and stood by Harry’s side and, looking out of the window, he said, ‘Somehow I can’t see Father playing the dirty on her. I’m not fond of her but I wouldn’t like to see her humiliated. Perhaps you with your serious old head’—he now rumpled his brother’s hair—‘are seeing things that aren’t there.’

  ‘You haven’t come home with me every weekend this term, so you’ve missed quite a bit. A lot can happen in a couple of months.’

  ‘I’ve only missed four weekends.’

  ‘Well, on two of those particular weekends there were high jinks, albeit refined, in the drawing room on one occasion, and another up in my lady’s chamber.’

  Again there was silence between them, and then Martin, pointing, said, ‘There’s Joe and Carrie coming back.’

  Harry looked to where two small figures were racing down the hillside and into the belt of trees at the bottom, and as they disappeared from view he said, ‘The only thing Aunt Ellen’s got to hang on to is that Father wouldn’t do anything to alienate himself from Joe. He’s too fond of him, and I c
an’t imagine the house without Joe.’

  ‘No, no; I can’t either; he has a strange fascination, has Joe; he exudes love and somehow you want to give it back, yet one senses a need in him at times; I feel he’s lonely…lonely inside.’

  Harry stared at his brother. He was like their father, a boisterous extrovert on the one hand and a secret, thoughtful, even poetic, creature on the other.

  Martin said now, ‘I bet Aunt Ellen doesn’t know he’s running wild with Carrie; she’s not partial to that friendship.’

  ‘Carrie…yes, that’s what it was about.’ Harry was now digging Martin in the arm with his finger. ‘The belting he got last week, that’s what she was saying as she went into the room; “I’ll carry you!” I thought she said; but I didn’t connect it with little Carrie. Good lord! Yes, that was it. Poor Joe, he’s going to find the going hard.’

  ‘Yes, and not only with Aunt Ellen’—Martin was now nodding slowly—‘but from Mother Jessie too, for if she gets her way, she’ll have ’em into bed before they know what’s hit them.’

  ‘Jessie?’

  ‘Yes, our fat motherly Jessie. For your further education I’d better tell you that our dear retainer is a cow of the first order.’

  ‘Our Jessie? Go on!’

  ‘Yes, our Jessie.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Because she would sell off her daughters one at a time. Oh, she’s got her head screwed on firmly, has our Jessie.’

  ‘I don’t follow you.’ Harry’s tone was flat and he added, ‘I like Jessie.’

  ‘Well, brother, all I can advise you is not to cast an eye towards Janet or Carrie. As for Florrie, she’s already got her settled in her own mind. In a way, I can understand the old bitch’s reasoning; she wants a better life for her girls than she’s had, so she aims to marry one of them off into our family by fair means or foul, mostly foul.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not joking, Harry.’ Martin’s voice was deeply serious now. ‘She has thrown Florrie at me since I was fourteen. And Florrie was only too willing. She’s always been too willing to oblige, and she knows how to oblige an’ all. Of course, I’ve only been made use of, I suppose, at holiday times, but…’

  ‘You mean?’ Harry’s head was thrust forward now, his voice a mere whisper, and he repeated, ‘You mean…well’—he swallowed and pulled his chin in—‘you mean…?’

  Martin, now imitating his brother’s voice and attitude, thrust his head towards him and whispered, ‘Yes, that’s what I mean, brother. And don’t look so shocked.’

  ‘I’m…I…I’m not shocked, merely astounded, I mean…well, surprised and sort of disappointed. What I mean is, about Jessie; I thought she was nice, motherly.’

  ‘Oh, she’s motherly all right, so motherly she even pushed Mary into father’s path just before Aunt Ellen came. Although, mind, I don’t think Mary would have stood it; she’s too much like her father…as Carrie is. Our Jessie’ll have a job to get Carrie to tread her prepared path, but Florrie and Janet take after their mother.’

  Harry’s expression caused Martin to exclaim on a laugh, ‘Don’t be so shocked, lad. Come on, let’s go for a ride and sweat some of the passion out of us, eh?’ He dug Harry in the shoulder. ‘We’ll run over to the Doltons’.’

  At the mention of the neighbours’ name Harry rose from the window seat, grinning now as he said, ‘Sweat some of the passion out of us! Well, if we’re riding to the Doltons’ you’re riding in the wrong direction, aren’t you?’

  ‘Subtle reasoning. Subtle reasoning. On with you!’

  Martin now grabbed Harry’s arm, and as they used to do years ago when they were small boys, they ran from the room and down the stairs. And as they ran across the yard Harry shouted, ‘I’m going to get a motorcycle.’

  ‘You’ll not bring a motorcycle into this yard as long as there’s a horse in it.’

  ‘We’ll see. We’ll see.’

  As they entered the stable Dick Smith was coming out and they stopped almost simultaneously, for the man they looked upon as a friend, who had first taught them to ride, who, whatever the weather, had never failed to meet them at the station when they returned from school, passed them without a word, a look on his face like thunder.

  As they exchanged glances Harry muttered, ‘What’s up with him?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. But it must be something pretty bad. I’ve never seen Dick look like that in my life: something’s wrong somewhere. Ah well, come on; I suppose the day won’t be over before we’ll find out.’

  Three

  ‘Eat your dinner.’

  ‘I don’t want my bloody dinner.’

  ‘Well, you’ll eat it afore it eats you. There!’ Jessie Smith lifted the plate heaped high with potatoes, cabbage and stewed meat from the table and, going to the oven, she thrust it in, saying as she banged the door, ‘You can take it out of there, ’cos I won’t. Standin’ here cookin’ all mornin.’ She heaved up her bulbous breasts with her forearm, pushed her greying hair back from her brow; then, taking up the corner of her apron, she passed it over her face before turning and looking at her husband, who was standing near the corner of the table glaring at her, and she said, ‘You’re a fool, Dick Smith, that’s what you are. You’ve always been a fool. You were born one, you’ll die one. What have you got for your years of slaving for them, eh?’

  ‘What have I got; I’ve got food to bring up a family and a clear conscience to go to bed with, that’s up to now. Now I feel I’ll never hold me head up again.’

  Ignoring her husband’s last remark, Jessie Smith picked up his first words, saying, ‘Food to feed your family with and a hovel for them to live in, ’cos look at it!’ She swung her fat body around. ‘Compare it with what they’ve got across there.’ She jerked her head towards the door. ‘Have they ever suggested building us a decent place? And your wage a pound a week!’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody ignorant, woman; I don’t only earn a pound a week; there’s most of our food can be added on to it, and the heating. And what’s more, they’ve employed every one of us. You should go down on your knees at the present moment and thank God for that, with the roads packed with men begging their bread. Many a miner would give his eye teeth and those of his whole family to be in our shoes the day.’

  ‘Ah, Dick Smith, you make me sick, you do. I’ve listened to that parable for years. Begod! If we were Catholics like the Paxstones, you’d have us bloody well saying a Mass for them. Why don’t you go and crawl up the front steps and thank them for allowing us to exist at all? You know, sometimes I believe you’re grateful to them for being born because it happened in this very pigsty. Anyway, we’ve been through all this afore, so let’s get down to the present. Are you going to go and face him, or am I?’

  Dick Smith drew in a long shuddering breath, then patted the stubble on his chin and his head moved slowly back and forward for a moment before he asked, ‘And what do you propose I say to him? “Your son, master, has taken our Florrie down and she’s going to have a bairn. When can you arrange for the wedding?”’ His teeth now ground against each other and his eyes narrowed as he squinted at her, adding, ‘You’re the bloody fool, Jessie; in fact, I think you’re a bit of a maniac even to imagine he’d make his son toe the line and marry her. She’s two years older than him to start with, not that that needs to be a stumbling block if she was of his class…’

  ‘Oh, class! Here we go again.’

  ‘Shut your mouth, woman, and let me finish. And I’m gonna say this: I haven’t been entirely blind to what’s been going on, at least in our Florrie’s and our Janet’s case; they’ve both made the hay hotter, I know that, so how are you gonna prove it’s Master Martin who’s responsible for the swelling in her belly?’

  ‘Because she said so and they were at it at Easter and for many a long day afore that.’

  ‘Oh, I bet you saw to it that they were at it, oh aye. You’re a long schemer, Jessie. Just afore Mrs Ellen came on the
scene you had a plan in your mind. Oh, oh!’ He now tossed his head from side to side. ‘Get into your napper at last, woman, I’m not the bloody fool you take me for. I don’t say much but I keep me eyes open, an’ me ears an’ all. But from now on things are gonna be different: if anybody’s gonna have any say in this matter it’s gonna be me. And I’m tellin’ you now, there’s nobody going up to the house. Aw! Hold your hand, woman! Hold your hand.’ He lifted his own hand. ‘Don’t say it! Don’t say she’s not goin’ to stand this alone.’

  ‘Not say it! By God, but I will! An’ I’ll see you again in hell’s flames afore you keep me tongue tied about this. He’s put her in this condition, and one way or t’other something’s got to be done about it, an’ I’m going to see to it, an’ right now.’