‘Young?’ She laughed; then beginning to bustle, she said, ‘I’ll have to get something ready; cook something we can have cold. If it’s fine we can have lunch outside and…’
‘Look, he’ll likely have lunch down in Hereford. And anyway, let him take what’s going. I’m not going to bother my head, and you’re not going to bother yours.’
‘Oh, am I not? The man’s not coming all that way without having a meal.’
‘Well, he can have my week’s meat if he brings his ration card.’
She laughed at him now; then turning from him, she opened the double doors of the wall cupboard and, standing back, surveyed the contents. And as she did so he surveyed her, thinking, What will Holden make of this set-up; me, the child, and this fat young woman? But no, she wasn’t really fat any more; she was plump. She had lost almost three stone in weight and had altered in other ways since those days when he had first seen her across the NAAFI counter: she no longer wore her hair pulled straight back from her forehead, she’d had it cut and waved; her face was still round, her cheeks full, but her skin was clear with a slight bloom on it, brought about, he supposed, by the constant fresh air up here. She could now be a younger sister to that fat dumpy creature he had first seen dressed up as Nellie Wallace.
But how would Holden see her? Likely a young girl in her puppy fat. At least so, until she spoke, when the very tone of her voice would alter his first impression, because apart from her voice sounding unusually pleasant, there was nothing girlish about its substance: when she talked it was as a mature woman, a woman with a sharp wit which, he knew from experience, could adjust itself to any grade.
And what would he say to Holden tomorrow? I’m not coming back? But he would have to go back some time. Yes, he would have to go back. Anyway, why was Holden making the trip? They had done everything through letters so far, and there was always Mary there.
But that was the point, Mary was about to leave. Likely that was what was bringing him.
James Holden sat on the lawn in the sunshine and as he sipped his third cup of tea he told himself, and not for the first time since his arrival three hours ago, that he was puzzled: if the child wasn’t Joe’s, and he said it wasn’t, and if he had no intention of marrying this young woman, and of course he could see the reason quite plainly why he shouldn’t; not that she wasn’t a very nice person, very entertaining, with a certain charm, but she was so small and tubby and very plain. Yet one forgot about her plainness when she began to talk. She was really very amusing; he hadn’t laughed so much for a long time. Her reminiscences on her NAAFI days would make a book. And she had a most unusual voice; ‘cultured’ was the word he would use for her voice, it was so pleasing to listen to.
Her child was a fine little fellow too. Now if young Jebeau had been the father of it he could have understood his desire to stay here with them both, but almost right away he had made it evident that he had no connection with her in this way. He had stated that they were living as friends, definitely just as friends. It was a queer set-up, to say the least, but now he must get him to do something definite; that’s if he could, because here was a different man from the one he had last seen in his office in Newcastle. Then, he had been a young man determined to go his own way, but here was a man, outwardly still young-looking yet inwardly seemingly as settled as someone who had experienced all the rigours of a hazardous lifetime and had now come home to rest. And the picture he now presented exemplified this, for there he sat in a basket chair, his long legs stretched out before him, and to the side sat the young woman, and on the grass was the child playing with a wooden truck. It was a scene of domestic contentment which he had to explode, and so he said, ‘Miss Smith has given her notice in; she’ll be gone within a month. Sam has been gone this long time; well, almost five months. His back gave out. And I must tell you that in the spring the Army sent an overflow there. They were in the house for nine weeks and if they had been in nine years they couldn’t have done more damage. The old chimney in the hall caught fire; it’s a wonder the place wasn’t burned down. Of course, there’ll be some form of recompense, but it will never be enough to make things as they were. And the place is in a bad shape, Sir Joseph.’
How odd to be called Sir Joseph. Joe smiled quietly to himself. He would never feel a sir. He didn’t want to be a sir. Oh no, he didn’t want to be a sir. He said now, ‘Is there any way of getting rid of the title?’
‘What?’
‘You heard what I said: is there any way of getting rid of the title? Can one sort of disown it, write it off?’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘It’s worth looking into.’
‘If you say so.’ Dear, dear, he was a very queer fellow. Both Arthur and Martin would be turning in their graves if they were hearing this now. Somewhat stiffly, he said, ‘Title or no title, the place needs someone in authority; it’s in a dreadful state and it’s such a shame. It was a lovely house and the grounds were delightful, I remember.’
‘Yes, yes, I know. Well, I’ve been thinking about what’s to be done with it and I think I’ll sell it.’
‘Sell it?’
‘Yes; there’d be no obstacle to that, would there?’
‘No, no; it isn’t entailed.’
‘Well, we’ll leave it at that then, shall we?’
‘But in the meantime, when Mary goes there’ll be no-one to take charge, unless I appoint a husband and wife as caretakers. It isn’t fair to ask anyone to live there alone.’
‘Yes, do that. Do that for the time being.’
James Holden stared at this odd young man. Why had he made the journey? There was a saying: Is your journey really necessary? And Alec had thought it was. ‘Go and see him,’ he had said. ‘State everything in black and white: tell him the state of the place; tell him if it is left empty it could be ransacked.’ Well, it had been ransacked already, hadn’t it? The soldiers had seen to that.
In a short while he took his leave.
He had arrived by taxi and as he was asking the driver to return at a certain time to pick him up, Joe had interrupted, telling him it would be all right, he would run him down to the station. A few months earlier Maggie had bought an old car from someone in the village. It had belonged to a young man who had been killed, and although she knew she would only be able to run it at very odd times because of petrol rationing, the possession of it had given her pleasure.
And so Maggie had shaken hands with James Holden and told him that she had been very pleased to meet him. On his part he had assured her the pleasure was reciprocated. And she had watched the car being driven away and down the winding road.
Picking up the child from the grass, she went into the house and, sitting down, she hugged him to her breast and rocked him to ease the pain that seemed to be gripping her heart like an iron band.
‘May I ask if you intend to marry?’ She had overheard the solicitor talking as she had been about to come out into the garden with the tea tray, and she had stepped back and waited for the answer.
‘No, no; she’s a friend, that’s all, and…and the child’s not mine. No, I have no intention of marrying.’ Joe’s tone had been definite.
Well, she knew, didn’t she? She had known all along. Yes, but she hadn’t heard it in so many words before. Well now, she had, hadn’t she? And that should settle it once and for all.
It wasn’t fair.
No, of course it wasn’t fair, but was life ever fair? To some, yes; some people had all the breaks.
Well, she’d had a break, hadn’t she? She was holding him now. She had told herself, when the child came, that she wanted nothing more from life. But life was such that it made you lie. Her Aunt Lizzie had once said that life gave you salve for the sores it created for you, then when you weren’t looking it picked off the scabs again.
It was a crude analogy but a fitting one in her case, at any rate.
And why did life give you the power to hate where you loved? For at this moment she hated Joe. Again she hat
ed Joe.
Seven
‘Captain William Parsons of the United States Navy, who observed the attack from the Super Fortress which dropped the bomb, said, “When the bomb fell away, we began putting as much distance between us and the ball of fire as quickly as possible. There was a terrible flash of light, brilliant as the sun. That was the first indication I had that the bomb worked.
“Each man gasped at what had been Hiroshima going up in a mountain of smoke…”’
Three days after the news had broken Maggie was still saying, ‘Why had they to do it like that? To wipe out the whole place; it’s terrible, like a massacre.’
‘The war was a massacre.’
‘Yes, but not like that, to be burnt up all at once.’
‘You never saw London at the height of the Blitz?’
‘No, I never did.’
‘Well, parts of that were burnt up all at once. And anyway, the Japs would have held out, and men would have gone on being killed by the hundred or the thousand.’
Changing the subject Maggie said, ‘I’m going to take Charles down to Mrs Cuthbert. Donald said yesterday his mother would like to see him; he wasn’t a year old when she last saw him; she’s been in bed so long. I felt I should have called on her but I didn’t like to. Anyway, now he’s asked me, I’ll go along this afternoon.’
‘Do you want me to carry him part of the way?’
‘No, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll take the pushchair.’
‘It’s windy; you’ll have your job cut out.’
‘I can tackle the elements.’
When she smiled at him he smiled back, saying now gently, ‘You’re capable of tackling anything you put your mind to, Maggie.’
‘Oh, is it complimentary day? Anyway, what are you going to do?’
‘I was thinking about getting on with that article.’
‘Good, good. And I think it’s an excellent title, “You’ve got a nerve”; it’ll help people.’
‘You think so?’
‘Sure of it.’
‘Ah well, each to our own task. Sure you don’t want me to come along?’
‘Anything to get out of work. Go on, get in there, and get sat down and at it.’
On a free laugh he did as she bade him; and ten minutes later, as he saw her pass the window, he knocked on it and waved to her, and she waved back, and the child did too.
He had only written half a dozen lines when he sat back in the chair and looked out of the window to where the summer house stood on a small green patch of grass, surrounded now on two sides by a vegetable garden. And an air of utter contentment seeped through him.
Since James Holden’s visit there had, as it were, crept up on him the knowledge that, for the first time in his life, he was experiencing happiness; perhaps not complete happiness but a measure of it, and for the first time in his life he had a glimpse of where he was going. The route he intended to take offered no great excitement, no adventure, but at the same time, no discord, no striving. As he saw it now, he had been held back from making the start on the journey by a prejudice, but he had overcome that now.
Before he set out on any new journey, however, he must return to the house, just this once; he must finish things there, satisfy himself that he was right. There were times, even now, that he doubted it; just a small doubt, but he knew that if the doubt became a certainty and the certainty should prove that he was wrong, then indeed he had been mad.
As he brought himself suddenly upright in the chair, and forward over the small table, he saw a car enter the drive. And he said to himself, ‘Surely not Holden again, and Beecham with him.’ But no, it wasn’t a taxi, it was an old car, one that could give even Maggie’s a number of years.
By the time the car had drawn up he had opened the door; and when he saw the driver step onto the gravel, his mouth fell into a gape; there came a restriction in his heart for a moment; his eyes narrowed as if in disbelief; and then he had walked from the door and was standing in front of the visitor.
‘Hello, Joe. I…I didn’t think I would find the place. Doubtless you’re surprised to see me.’
‘Yes, Carrie. But…but come in.’
She followed him through the door into the small hall, and then into the sitting room where, seemingly now unable to speak, he directed her to sit down with a motion of his head.
‘What a nice house.’
‘Yes. It isn’t mine, it…it’s Miss LeMan’s. I…I’m only staying here.’
He stood looking down at her. What did she want? Why had she come? And at this time when everything was straightening out for him. But for whatever reason she was here, it wasn’t, he sensed, having the effect upon him he would have imagined only a few months ago. She was still beautiful, but nonetheless different; there was a placidness about her. No, that wasn’t the right word …
‘You’re wondering why I’m here?’
‘Since you ask, Carrie, yes, yes I am.’
‘Are you better? Quite better?’
‘Yes, I’m better.’
‘I was sorry to hear you had been ill.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I felt I had to come and see you before I…well, go away.’
‘You’re leaving the country?’
‘No’—she smiled at him—‘not the country.’ Her head now dropped and she gave a small laugh. ‘I’ve never found it so hard to explain before. I remember, Joe, I tried to tell you the beginnings of it some time ago, but…but you seemed to misunderstand. First of all, I’ll…Please sit down, Joe; I can talk to you better when you’re not looking at me like a schoolmaster.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, it happened after Father died. I suppose it was his going and the war, the devastation of the air raids, the air raid, one particular one, that did it, I think. I happened to be working alongside a nun. She went on, hour after hour; she seemed almost superhuman. She was so upset at the condition of one child that she swore at the Germans, then spoke to Our Lord and asked him to overlook it. I laughed until I cried, not knowing that I’d been crying all the time. Anyway, I think it was there that it really started, and to cut a long story short I became a Catholic. It…it was that I wanted to tell you about on that particular Christmas night, Joe, and also that I had my mind set on joining the Church, wholeheartedly joining it.’
His eyes narrowed again, and now he said quietly, ‘What do you mean, wholeheartedly?’
At this she gave a clear laugh which sounded like an echo from their long-ago childhood, when she said, ‘Hang on to your shoelaces, Joe, in case you leave the ground, but I’m going to become a nun.’
He felt his face screwing up as if in protest as he repeated, ‘A nun?’
‘Yes, yes; dreadful, isn’t it?’
‘But…but I don’t understand. Why you, I mean?’
‘Yes, why me, of all people? That’s what everyone says. The whole family think I’ve gone doolally-tap; all except Mick, that is.’ Her face was straight now and her voice was low but her words were firm as she said, ‘Everything our Janet said that night was lies, Joe; there’s never been anything like that between Mick and me. Oh, yes’—she nodded her head quickly now—‘we love each other; yes, we found that out early on; perhaps a little stronger than brother and sister should love, but that’s as far as it ever went. You see, he had cared for me since I was a baby. He always thought that…well, I was different from the rest. In a way, I know now that he was protecting me from my mother, as Dad was when he sent me away to Aunt Alice’s. I love Mick now as I loved him then; I’ll always love him, Joe, and he me. But don’t let me give you the impression that I’m going into the Church to evade this. Speaking frankly, love between a brother and sister is not unknown and if we’d had a mind, things could have developed and no-one been any the wiser.’ She gave an embarrassed laugh now and drooped her head as she said, ‘I don’t sound like a prospective nun, do I, Joe?’ And he, his face slightly flushed now, smiled back at her and said, ‘I have to
agree with you, Carrie, you don’t.’
‘Well, there’s one thing I’ve learned about nuns latterly, and that is, they are very, very human—oh my! You wouldn’t believe—so don’t look upon me as a potential saint, Joe. Anyway I…I felt I had to come and explain things to you before I go in, and that’ll be the day after tomorrow. You…you don’t mind me being here?’
‘Oh no, no, Carrie.’ His tone was steady. ‘I’m glad you came. It’s funny, but I wanted something cleared up in my mind and well, your arrival has done it for me.’
She stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on, and when he didn’t she said, ‘I’m glad of that. And Mick will be happy too. I wanted him to come up with me, but he wouldn’t.’
‘Where is he?’ He looked towards the window. ‘He’s not out there?’
‘Oh no; he’s down at Hereford. He…he thought it would be awkward after what happened between you, and it was better that I should explain. But I know he would be delighted to see you, Joe. You see, in a way he’s taken the same line.’
‘Not becoming a priest?’ Joe’s voice was high and Carrie laughed outright now, saying, ‘Oh no; he won’t even turn; I mean, become a Catholic, no, but he has joined the Third Order of the Society of Saint Francis…You’ve never heard of them?’
‘No.’ He shook his head.
‘Well, he’ll be a kind of layman priest. No, no, that isn’t the word, priest; but they take vows of poverty and such.’
‘He’s going into a monastery, a Church of England monastery?’
‘Oh no, no. As soon as he’s discharged from the RAF, which could be any day now, he’s opening up a wireless shop. He will live an ordinary life, but he must promise to…well, to attend Communion regularly and set a special time aside for prayer and self-denial, and go into retreat during the year. One of the main objects is to help others.’
Joe got to his feet now, his head shaking as he said, ‘I…I can’t really take it in yet. Looking back, there was always something deep in Mick, and at this moment I can understand him more than I can understand you.’
My Beloved Son Page 32
