by Henry Green
Wasn't that rather cruel Mrs Dupret said, and he said no, of course not. For one thing, if he had done anything it was almost bound to be wrong, and then if you let them have all their own way, young men lost their keenness. After that he sank into a greater apathy and although he did not send her away, which was in itself, she thought, a sign that he was not right, she could hardly get anything out of him.
After Sunday dinner, when Lily Gates had cleared table and had put back on it bowl in which Mr Craigan kept tobacco, she said to those three what were they going to do that Sunday afternoon.
'Where are you goin'?' said Mr Dale.
'I'm not going anywhere.
'Aren't you goin' out?'
'I'm not goin' anywhere without you go.'
'Don't trouble about me' Mr Dale said. 'I'm used to that.'
'I didn't mean you particular, I meant all on you.'
'I'm stayin' in with me pipe,' Gates said half asleep. 'You go and get the beer.' Mr Craigan reached out and took wireless headphones which he fitted about his head.
'I thought you couldn't mean me,' said Mr Dale.
'No, I should think I couldn't.'
'But don't you put yourself out for us. You go on out.'
'I got nowhere to go.'
'What, ain't 'e waitin' for you at the corner?'
'Who's that?'
'Who's that!!' he said.
'Well what business is it of yours if 'e is?'
'I wouldn't keep 'im waitin'.'
'I tell you I'm not going out this afternoon.'
'Then what's it all about. 'Ad a lover's quarrel or what?'
She smiled at him and said what business was it of his and her smiling made him shout that most likely he had to take most of his time keeping his other loves quiet. Dropping voice he said people of that sort which took other people's girls from them, were not content with one only, they had several, wife in every port and married women some of them most likely, he said, voice rising. Still she smiled when, jumping up, he said he would give her smack across that smile. Craigan took off headphones then and said 'you go and get the beer Lil.' When she had shut door behind her he said to Dale to leave her alone. Mr Gates slept noisily in chair.
Mr Dale sat down. He leant towards fire which made room thick hot. They said-nothing for a time. He looked up then towards Mr Craigan and said:
'I've been thinkin' I'd better change my lodgings.'
'You'll do nothing of the kind' Craigan said.
Again was silence.
'It makes it awkward for me' he said 'staying 'ere.'
Mr Craigan said nothing. Dale kicked Joe Gates: 'Joe' he said 'I've been thinkin' I ought to look out for other lodgings. Our wench and me don't seem to 'it it off any more, Joe.'
Mr Gates looked at Mr Craigan. Craigan said:
'You'll stay 'ere Jim.'
Dale kicked fender and upset poker which clattered and crashed on floor.
'I won't stand by and see 'er marry Bert Jones.'
'I can't stand by and see that feller go off with Lil' he said later. 'If her likes 'im better'n me well then let 'er 'ave 'im but I'm not goin' to be there to watch it.'
'I'm telling you she'll not marry Bert Jones' said Mr Craigan and again was silence and furtively Mr Gates watched Mr Craigan. Then Craigan said to Mr Dale: 'You go on off out, Jim, don't sit moping inside.'
'That's right' said Joe Gates. 'Lord love me, you ain't jealous of 'im are you? 'Im?!! Why 'e's nothing more than something to look at, though 'e's as ugly as your backside. But 'e's got no use to 'imself. You didn't ought to worry yourself about him. An' talkin' about women, the times I 'ad with 'er mother before we was married. Why if any dago stopped in the street her was after 'im.'
Taking hat Mr Dale went out of the house. He took a different way from where she had gone to fetch beer. Those two sat and said nothing. Then Gates said:
'I've a mind to 'ave it out with 'er.'
'You sit still.'
'She wants a good clout. You do it then.'
'If you touch 'er I'll break the poker 'cross yer legs.'
Mr Gates stayed silent then and Mr Craigan said no more. But he did not put headphones back on his head so later Gates said:
'Without meanin' any offence, what d'you think on it?' but Craigan did not answer and little later Mr Gates slept again. Mr Craigan sat on. With thinking he forgot what was to have been greatest treat, concert from Berlin.
Then, one morning in iron foundry, Arthur Jones began singing. He did not often sing. When he began the men looked up from work and at each other and stayed quiet. In machine shop, which was next iron foundry, they said it was Arthur singing and stayed quiet also. He sang all morning.
He was Welsh and sang in Welsh. His voice had a great soft yell in it. It rose and rose and fell then rose again and, when the crane was quiet for a moment, then his voice came out from behind noise of the crane in passionate singing. Soon each one in this factory heard that Arthur had begun and, if he had two moments, came by iron foundry shop to listen. So all through that morning, as he went on, was a little group of men standing by door in the machine shop, always different men. His singing made all of them sad. Everything in iron foundries is black with the burnt sand and here was his silver voice yelling like bells. The black grimed men bent over their black boxes.
When he came to end of a song or something in his work kept him from singing, men would call out to him with names of English songs but he would not sing these. So his morning was going on. And Mr Craigan was glad, work seemed light to him this morning who had only three months before he got old age pension, he ought to work at his voice he said of him in his mind and kept Joe Gates from humming tune of Arthur's songs.
Every one looked forward to Arthur's singing, each one was glad when he sang, only, this morning, Jim Dale had bitterness inside him like girders and when Arthur began singing his music was like acid to that man and it was like that girder was being melted and bitterness and anger decrystallized, up rising up in him till he was full and would have broken out – when he put on coat and walked off and went into town and drank. Mr Craigan did not know he was gone till he saw he did not come back.
Still Arthur sang and it might be months before he sang again. And no one else sang that day, but all listened to his singing. That night son had been born to him.
And now time is passing.
Mr Dupret had fallen into a greater apathy, nor was there anything which pleased him now. Nor was he ever angry.
Nothing interested him. Mr Dupret had sent for his friends. Those who came he recognized and they talked to him but he could find no answer to their questions or anything in their conversation which would rouse him.
The days come and then the evening, morning papers are hawked about, last editions of the evening papers are sold in the night while men sit writing morning papers. It rained. The summer was passing. Young Dupret would go into the sick room but while old Mr Dupret recognized him and once or twice thought of what he could say, he never arrived at wishing him more than good morning. If he came in the evening as soon as he was in the room old Mr Dupret said 'goodnight' and if he ignored this then the old man would lie with eyelids shut over his eyes. And his wife was treated in the same way.
Then Mrs Dupret had him moved to the house in the country. Young Mr Dupret used to come down for the weekends. Doctors came and went. Electrical treatment was given him, many other remedies were tried, even the most strikingly beautiful nurses were found to tend him, once a well-known courtesan was hired for the night, but the old man still showed no interest and little irritation; he said good-morning to his wife, son, doctors and nurses, goodnight to the harlot.
Lines came out on his wife's face. He never mentioned the City or his interests, whenever he spoke it was about the needs of his body. He spoke of no more than these to the nurses, it is not known for certain if he spoke to the harlot. No one could find the face to be present when she was introduced into his room. He had constantly, before his illness, betrayed
his wife and she had known it. Nothing really was simpler for her or more natural in such an emergency than to arrange for the lady to come down, what was odd was the doctor of that particular moment allowing it. Mrs Dupret could have no official knowledge of her coming, she could not see her and had to invent many ruses that the servants might not know.
Richard had to receive this lady and show her to the bedroom, and he stood outside with the doctor and one of the nurses. The doctor insisted on standing close to the door as he said he feared 'the possible effects' upon a man of Mr Dupret's age, but his son stood further away, lost in embarrassment, particularly as the nurse seemed nervous and insisted on standing by him. After thirty minutes the lady reappeared. She lit a cigarette. The doctor said 'well' in a threatening voice and she answered that nothing has passed between them, she had done everything in her power, had done her utmost, she was ready to try again although she had packed up her things in her suitcase and if they liked they could go in with her and see for themselves, (she was plainly intimidated by the doctor and cast imploring glances at young Dupret), but she insisted that all he had said was goodnight and then he had shut eyelids over his eyes, 'the good baby' she said.
Some time passed before young Mr Dupret could recover from his surprise at this visit. To his friends in London he talked with horror about the cynical attitude of older women towards sex. There was so much horror in the tone of his voice that his friends asked themselves what could have happened to him and talked of it to each other. But while he soon recovered his old assurance it was some time before he could go into his father's room. Secretly he was annoyed that his mother had not asked him for his opinion, and for the rest of his life he spoke with venom of doctors.
So nobody knew what the old man thought, though everyone was certain that his brain was still working. A submarine is rammed and sinks. It lies for days upon the bed of the ocean and divers tap out messages to it and the survivors tap out answers to the divers, asking for oxygen and food. Above, on the surface of the ocean men work frantically but the day grows on into the evening, night falls, there is another day, another night, and as everyone realizes gradually that they cannot hope to raise the submarine in time, their efforts are not so frantic, they take a little longer over what they do. In the same way fresh doctors were still fetched to Mr Dupret, but no daring experiments were expected of them. They all said very much the same, that his frame was worn out and that only complete rest might bring him out of his illness. More they did not say and Mrs Dupret though she had never been very fond of him, was now thinking how very fond of him she was.
It was hot and it had been hot all day. Mr Gates had gone out, quite often now alone he went out, and Jim Dale had gone out.
When Lily had tea things put away she came with some darning to back door which opened onto the garden. This evening Mr Craigan sat there.
He smoked pipe. She brought chair and sat on it. She began darning.
Almost whispering he said:
'I'm getting to be an old man.'
'Why grandad, you're not.'
'I am.'
'It's the heat of the day's tired you.'
'It's been very hot.'
She darned his socks.
'I bought those socks three years ago,' he said and she said was another twelve months' wear in them yet. She asked in her mind what he was talking for, and was he going to talk to her about it? She waited.
'My mother' he said then, 'knitted socks that wore longer'n that, and they came farther up the leg. They was very good socks.'
She waited.
'This day' he said 'brought me to mind of the days I was in the fields there and the cider we 'ad. The farmer was bound to give us cider. It was good cider, but it's not such a drink as beer.'
So much talk from him frightened her.
'I mind' he said 'yer Aunt Ellie well.' He spoke cheerfully. 'She was older by nine years than your mother. She married a drover by name of Curley. I remember their getting married. I was in the choir.'
'Was you in the choir grandad?' Lily said from nervousness.
'Ah, I sang in the choir. I ain't been in a church since. Nor I shall go even if I 'ave to bury one of my own.'
'Wouldn't you go the funeral.'
'I would not. Yes I sang when them were married. They made a fine show. I ate myself sick at the dinner there was after. She went to live with 'em up t'other end of the village. We lived next door to yer mother's parents so I didn't see much of 'er after that. But you'd say she was contented if you'd seen 'er. Curley was a nice young chap by what I can remember of 'im and yer aunt was a great upstanding woman. But she 'adn't the looks your ma had when she grew to be a woman. Any road she ran away from 'im three years after. No one knew where she'd went, she just gone out through the garden and down the road.'
'Didn't they put the police onto 'er?'
'No, Curley was frightened to do that. She went off. I ain't never 'eard of 'er since, nor nobody ain't.'
'And didn't you go away grandad?' She was trembling.
'Yes. Her going off like she did, that worked on me, and I thought I'd try my luck. And it was years after when I was settled in this town and earning good money that I wrote to yer father – I'd been pals with him though younger'n me – to find out 'ow my old folks was getting on. And when 'e read in my letter 'ow I was doing 'e brought your ma and you over to Brummagem. You was a baby then. But I'd've been better where I was. I wouldn't 'ave got the money but I broke the old people's hearts and where am I now, with no one of my own about me? I got no home and the streets is a poor place after the fields.'
'But you got me, and there's Dad, and Jim.'
'You'll be marrying.'
'Well, if I do we'll live in this 'ouse if you'd let us.'
'Would 'e like it? Maybe while you couldn't get a 'ouse of yer own. But not after.'
Neither spoke.
'Ah,' he said, 'she left 'er man and went off with a flashy sort of card, 'e was a groom to some hunting people that lived a mile off. And I left my people soon after without a word to tell them I was going, thinking it was a fine thing to do. I wanted to make my way up in the world. But I'm no more'n a moulder, a sand rat, and will be till they think I'm too old for work. Three pounds a week and lucky to get it. I'd rather be in the country on twenty-five shillings. And what's 'appened to yer Aunt Ellie? D'you suppose 'e's kept her? That sort never do.'
Lily was crying. She feared and loved Mr Craigan.
'No that sort never do' he said, and smoked pipe and did not watch her crying. He got up and went inside and listened in to the wireless.
In morning Mr Dupret came to office. Soon Mr Archer came into his office.
He said good-morning sir and said how was the Chief and Mr Dupret said they hoped to move him into country tomorrow afternoon. Archer said change was bound to do him good and when he got to country home he would be different man altogether and would come back nine years younger.
'In the meantime' he said 'I think we are carrying on very nicely with you at the helm Mr Dupret. It's being a most interesting time for all of us, sir, working together as the team we shall be when you take over the old ship.'
Mr Dupret said crew would be very different when he was captain, would be more able seamen in it, and he could not help laughing at this and Mr Archer tittered.
Then he looked serious and said: 'Look here, Archer,' and Archer said yes sir, 'you know I didn't touch on the subject of Tarver's having another draughtsman when I was last in Birmingham three months ago but I think we ought to see how the land lies about it now.'
Archer said he thought time was ripe. Mr Dupret said he did not want to go too far with old Bridges, after all, he said, Tarver is still subordinate to the old man and must be while Bridges is still works manager, but that was no reason why Tarver should not have one, he said.
'We've lost several orders through it, Mr Dupret.'
Of course, Mr Dupret said, Tarver can't get his drawings out when he's understaffed.
But Bridges must not be offended, or rather must be offended as little as possible. What did Archer think Walters thought about it?
'Of course' said Mr Archer, 'Mr Walters is a first class engineer, or was, and you know as well as I Mr Dupret that he's probably done more for the old firm than anyone – always excepting your father, sir. But I cannot get on with him, heaven knows I've tried, but his methods are not mine, his slowness grates on a nature like mine Mr Dupret. I should certainly not like to try sounding him on the matter.'
'No, I haven't asked you to.'
'Precisely, precisely, but I was afraid perhaps you were expecting me—'
Mr Walters came in. He was loud-voiced this morning.
'Good-morning Dick, how's your father?'
Why should he call me Dick, young Mr Dupret said in his mind, his familiarity was jovial but then he went on thinking any joviality was offensively familiar and was smiling at that while he answered Mr Walters his father was being taken down to country day after tomorrow.
Walters said they were all looking forward to seeing Mr Dupret back amongst them, which angered young Mr Dupret. Then they talked about business. Soon Walters began looking at Archer, expecting him to go and later Walters was glaring at him, but still Archer stayed on, very self conscious, till Mr Walters went off and was first to leave.
Young Mr Dupret saw this and dismissed Archer and was miserable and annoyed at both of them.
Another day and he was talking to Mr Archer about how Bridges would take idea of another draughtsman for Mr Tarver. He said he was not afraid of old Bridges and had taken man off lavatory door just to show Mr Bridges only that. And was also another reason. He thought it had interfered with reasonable liberty of men in the works. He said he thought they would work better for being left alone with as far as possible. After all, he said, it was comfortable factory and the shops were as safe as they could be.
Mr Archer replied yes, they had been very lucky in matter of accidents, but for the one they had had in iron foundry some months back.
'What accident?' said Mr Dupret sharply.
