The Gambling Man

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Aye well, good for you, I hope it keeps fine for you.’

  The colloquial saying which was for ever on Lizzie’s tongue caused Rory to screw up his eyes tightly for a moment.

  I hope it keeps fine for you.

  Would he ever do anything right in this world? Would he ever do anything to please anybody? . . . Well, he was pleasing her, wasn’t he? He had never seen a woman so openly happy in his life as he had her these past three weeks. Her happiness was embarrassing; aye, and humbling, making him say to himself each night when he left her, I’ll repay her in some way, and he would, he would, and to hell with the rest of them. The kitchen had seen him for the last time, he’d go to that registry office whenever she liked and he’d show them, by God! he’d show them. He would let them see if he could live up to her or not.

  I hope it keeps fine for you.

  And Janie was dead!

  3

  He let himself in through the front door, but as he opened the door leading from the lobby into the hall Jessie was there to close it for him.

  ‘What a night, sir. Eeh! you are wet.’ As she took his hat and thick tweed coat from him he bent towards her and said in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘Well, don’t shout it out, Jessie, or I’ll have to take cough mixture.’

  ‘Oh, sir.’ She giggled and shook her head, then said, ‘The mistress is upstairs,’ and as he nodded at her and went towards the staircase she hissed after him, ‘Your boots, sir.’

  He looked down at his damp feet, then jerking his chin upwards and biting on his bottom lip like a boy caught in a misdemeanour he sat down on the hall chair and unlaced his boots. He then took his house shoes from her hand and pulled them on, and as he rose he bent towards her again and said in a whisper, ‘Between you all I’ll end up in a blanket.’

  Again she giggled, before turning away towards the kitchen to inform the cook that the master was in. She liked the master, she did; the house had been different altogether since he had come into it. He might have come from the bottom end of nowhere but he didn’t act uppish. And what’s more, he had made the mistress into a new woman. By! aye, he had that. She had never seen such a change in anybody. Nor had she seen such a change in the house. Everybody was infected; as cook said, they’d all got the smit . . .

  On opening the bedroom door he almost pushed her over and he put out his arm swiftly to catch her, saying, ‘Why are you standin’ behind the door?’

  ‘I wasn’t standing behind the door, Mr Connor, I was about to open the door.’

  She put her face up to his and he kissed her gently on the lips.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t.’ He shook his head from side to side. ‘Jessie carried me from the front door to the foot of the stairs, made me put my slippers on, and told me to be a good boy.’

  She shook his arm and smiled at him; then she unloosened his tie as she asked, ‘How did things go?’

  He now pressed her from him and on to the long padded velvet stool set before the dressing table, and as he stood back from her he took off his coat and tugged the narrow tie from his high collar; then turned and as he walked towards the wardrobe that filled almost one entire wall, he pulled his shirt over his head, saying, ‘Very well. Very well. I’ve enjoyed meself the day.’ He looked over his shoulder.

  ‘More so than usual?’

  ‘Oh, much more so than usual.’

  He now took from the wardrobe drawer a silk shirt with a wide soft collar, put it on, then divested himself of his trousers and, after selecting another pair from a rack, he stepped into them, while she watched him in silence and with seeming pleasure. Lastly, he donned a matching coat, then returned towards her, saying, ‘I met someone I’ve been hoping to meet for a long time.’

  ‘Lady or gentleman?’

  He gave her a twisted smile now before answering, ‘Gentleman.’

  ‘Oh—’ She placed her hand on her heart now, saying, ‘My rage is subsiding, please proceed.’

  He gave a small laugh, then sat down beside her on the stool. ‘Do you know a man named Nickle?’

  ‘Nickle? I know two men by the name of Nickle, Mr Frank Nickle and Mr John Nickle, but they’re not related. Which one did you meet?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure. This one lives in Plynlimmon Way.’

  ‘Oh, that’s Mr Frank Nickle. Why have you wanted to meet him? I’m sure you would have nothing in common.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong . . . What do you know of him?’

  She put her head on one side as if considering, then said, ‘I know I don’t care much for him, yet I have nothing against him except that I don’t think he was kind to his wife. I met her twice. It was shortly after I came back from school, Mother was alive. We went to dinner there once, and she came here. She was a sad woman. I think she was afraid of him. Yes—’ she nodded—looking back, I think she was afraid of him. I don’t think Mother had much time for him either, but they were all members of the same church and . . . What are you laughing at?’

  ‘Oh, there’s the bell for dinner. I’ll tell you after.’

  ‘You’ll tell me now.’

  He stared at her for a moment, then said quietly, ‘I’ll tell you later, Mrs Connor.’

  She bit on her lip to stop herself from laughing, bowed her head slightly, then, holding her hand out to him, rose from the seat. When he didn’t immediately follow suit she said, ‘Would you mind accompanying me down to dinner, Mr Connor?’

  ‘Not at all, Mrs Connor.’ He did rise now and gave her his arm, and she laid her head against his for a moment and they went out and down the stairs and into the dining-room like a young couple who were so in love that they couldn’t bear to be separated even while going into a meal . . .

  They had been married for five months now and Rory had grown so used to this way of life that it was hard at times for him to imagine he had ever lived any other. He was dressed as became a man of means; he ate like a man of means; he was beginning to enter the society of the town as should a man of means, because twice lately they had been asked out to dinner, and only four days ago he had played host to ten guests at this very table.

  As day followed day he became more surprised at himself; he had never thought he would have adapted so quickly and so easily. Even Jimmy had said recently, ‘It’s amazing how you’ve learned to pass yourself. You’ll be hobnobbing with Lord Cole next.’

  He had laughed and said, ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised at that either, lad,’ at the same time knowing that while he might have gained access to certain houses in the town, there were still those whose doors would never be open to the one-time rent man, and among the latter were certain members of her church.

  She’d tried to get him to church. He should attend for two reasons, she had laughingly said, in God’s cause, and the cause of business. But no, he had put his foot down firmly here. He couldn’t be that kind of a hypocrite. He had been brought up a Catholic and although he had never been through a church door for years, except when the banns were called and on the day he was married, he’d been born one and he would die one, he wasn’t going to become a turncoat.

  He was happy as he had never expected to be happy again in his life. It was a different kind of happiness, a steady, settled sort of happiness; a happiness made up partly of material things, partly of gratitude, and . . . and something else. It wasn’t love, but at the same time it came into that category, yet he couldn’t put a name to it. But he liked her, he liked her a lot, and he admired her. Strangely, he had ceased to be sorry for her. He couldn’t imagine now why he’d ever been sorry for her. And strangely too, he was more at ease in her company than he had ever been with anyone in his own family, apart from Jimmy that was . . . He hadn’t always been at ease with Janie. It was funny that, but he hadn’t. No, he couldn’t put a name to the feeling he had for Charlotte, he only knew that he liked being with her and that this was the life for him. He had fallen on his feet and he meant to see that they car
ried him firmly into the future . . .

  The meal over and in the drawing-room, she sat by his side on the couch and watched him begin the process of filling his pipe—This liberty had even shocked the servants. No gentleman smoked in a drawing-room, but there, the mistress allowed it—and now she said, ‘Well, I’m waiting. What have you discovered about Mr Nickle that has filled you with glee?’

  ‘Glee?’

  ‘Yes, glee. It’s been oozing out of you since you came in.’

  ‘He’s a good churchman, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, as churchmen go, he’s a good churchman.’

  ‘A highly respected member of the community.’ He pressed the tobacco down into the wide bowl of his red-wood pipe.

  ‘What is it?’ She put her hand out and slapped his knee playfully, and he looked at her steadily for a minute before he said flatly, ‘He’s a two-faced hypocrite.’

  ‘Oh, is that all? Well, he’s not alone in this town, is he?’

  ‘He runs a gaming house.’

  Now she was startled. ‘Mr Nickle running a gaming house? You’re dreaming, Rory.’

  ‘Oh no. Oh no, Charlotte, Rory isn’t dreaming,’ he mimicked her. ‘Rory once tried to get into Mr Nickle’s gaming house, but he was politely warned off, then recommended to a house in King Street. And you know what happened to Rory in King Street, don’t you?’

  ‘You can’t mean it?’ Her face was straight and his also, and his tone was deep and bitter when he answered, ‘I do. And it’s not only gaming he’s interested in when he can frighten little Joe . . .’

  ‘Who’s little Joe?’

  ‘He’s a bookie’s runner, you know, one who goes round taking bets. But he’s many more things besides, some things that it would be dangerous to look into. Not that he could do much on his own. But those who hire him could, such as our Mr Nickle. You know—’ he now rose and went to the fire and lit a spill and after drawing on his pipe came back towards her, saying, ‘You know, I wouldn’t have told you. I mean I wouldn’t have given him away, only I met him the day across the water in Crawford’s. He was doing the same as I was, getting the lay of the land, seeing if the place was worth buying, and he talked loudly to Crawford for my benefit about the stupidity of competing against rope works just farther up the river, such as Haggie’s. And all the while he eyed me. Yet he ignored me, completely ignored me. Then Crawford, who’s as blunt as an old hammer, said, “Aw well, if that’s your opinion of the place you’re not interested, are you? So what about you, Mr Connor, you think the same?” “No,” I said, “I’m here to talk business.” And on that the old fellow turned his back on our Mr Nickle and walked with me into the office, leaving his highness black in the face. And that’s whyI’Pm oozing glee, as you call it, ’cos Crawford’s askin’ much less than we thought. I told him we weren’t thinking of rope, but a foundry, at least material from it to make household goods.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ She put her hand out towards him, and he held it and went on, ‘And later, I saw his highness in the hotel when I was having a meal, and again he cut me dead. Now I could’ve understood such an attitude from any number of men in this town, and took it, but not from him, not knowin’ what I know about him. Because it isn’t only gambling, it’s lasses.’

  ‘Lasses?’

  ‘Yes, there’s quite a number of lasses disappear now and again.’

  ‘Oh no! Rory, he . . . he wouldn’t’

  ‘He would, and he does. Little Joe, the fellow I mentioned, was very much afraid of our Mr Nickle, and a game on the side wouldn’t have caused him to sweat so much so that he got washed and cleaned up afore going to his back door. I’d never known little Joe so clean in his life as when I saw him that day, the day I found out about Nickle . . . Look.’ He tugged her towards him. ‘I’ve thought of something. Do you think you could invite him here to dinner?’

  ‘Invite him here?’

  ‘That’s what I said. Say your husband would very much like to meet him.’

  ‘But after he’s cut you, do you think . . . ?’

  ‘Aye. Aye, I do. Invite him in a way that he’ll think twice about refusing . . . Put that something in your voice . . . You can do it.’

  ‘Blackmail?’

  ‘Aye. Yes, if you like.’

  She began to smile slowly, then she nodded at him. ‘Yes, I see your point. Yes, I’ll invite him. If I’m not mistaken I’ll be meeting him next week; he’s a member of the Church Council. We’ll likely be sitting side by side in the vestry. Yes—’ she laughed outright now—‘I’ll invite him here, and enjoy it . . . that’s if he accepts the invitation.’

  ‘He will, after you’ve put it over in your own way . . . Huh! it’s a funny life.’ He leant back in the couch and she twisted her body round and looked fully at him.

  ‘How are you finding it?’

  ‘Finding what?’

  ‘Life, this funny life.’

  Taking the pipe from his mouth, he said, ‘I’m liking this life fine, Mrs Connor. I never dreamed I’d like it so well.’

  ‘I wish I were beautiful.’ Her voice was low, and he pulled her suddenly towards him and encircled her with his arm, saying, ‘You’ve got qualities that beat beauty any day in the week. You’re the best-dressed woman in the town, too. Moreover, you’ve got something up top.’

  ‘Something up top?’ Her face was partly smothered against his shoulder. ‘I’d willingly be an empty-headed simpering nincompoop if only I . . . I looked different.’

  Quickly now he thrust her from him and said harshly and with sincerity, ‘Well, I can tell you this much, you wouldn’t be sitting where you are now, or at least I wouldn’t be sitting where I am now, if you were an empty-headed nincompoop.’

  ‘Oh, Rory.’ She flung herself against him as any young girl might, and he lay back holding her tightly to him.

  Hardly a week passed but he had to reassure her with regard to her looks. It seemed that she was becoming more conscious of her plainness as time went on, and yet strangely, he himself was actually becoming less aware of her lack of beauty as the days passed; there were even times when her whole face took on an attractive quality. Then there was her voice. Her voice was beautiful. He never tired listening to it, even when she was in one of her haughty moods, which were becoming rarer.

  She was saying, ‘You’ve never asked what I’ve been doing all day today?’

  ‘What have you been doing all day today?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing much. But . . . but I have two things to tell you.’

  ‘Two things? Well, get on with them. What are they?’

  She pulled herself gently from his arms, saying now, ‘Don’t be disturbed, but Jimmy came this afternoon. One . . . one of the boats has been sunk . . .’

  He was sitting on the edge of the couch now. ‘Why . . . why, didn’t you tell me this afore?’

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, saying, ‘Be quiet. Don’t get agitated. I’ve seen to it.’

  ‘Where’s Jimmy now?’

  ‘Where he always is, in the boathouse.’

  ‘Look, I’d better go down, he shouldn’t be there alone. I’ll . . .’

  ‘I told you I’ve seen to it. Mr Richardson is staying there with him.’

  ‘The boat . . . what happened to the boat?’

  ‘A plank had been levered from the bottom.’

  ‘And it would have been full. He was transporting for Watson yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, it had on the usual cargo.’

  ‘And it all went to the bottom?’

  ‘They salvaged it. I went back with Jimmy; you hadn’t been gone half an hour.’

  He pulled himself up from the couch and began to pace back and forth in front of the fire, grinding out between his teeth, ‘Those bloody Pitties!’ He never apologized for swearing in front of her, nor did she ever reprimand him. ‘If they’re not stopped they’ll do murder. Something’s got to be done.’ He was standing in front of her, looking down at her now, and she said quietly, ‘Somethi
ng will be done; I’ve seen to that as well. I . . . I called on the Chief Constable. I told him of our suspicions. Of course you cannot accuse anyone unless you have absolute proof, but I knew by the little he said that he was well aware of the Pitties’ activities and would be as pleased as us to convict them. And he said something that I found very interesting. He ended by saying it was difficult of course to catch little fish when they were protected by big fish. What do you make of that?’

  He rubbed his hand tightly along his jawbone. What do I make of it? Just that it links up with what I was saying earlier: there are some respectable people in this town leading double lives . . . big fish behind little fish.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Who would be protectin’ the Pitties? Only somebody who wants to use them. And what would they use them for? What’s their job? Running freight, anything from contraband whisky, silk, baccy, or men . . .’

  ‘Or maidens? As you were saying earlier.’

  He nodded at her. ‘Aye, men or maidens, anything.’ He bowed his head and shook it for a moment before saying, ‘What I’m really frightened of is, if they should go for Jimmy. He’s no match for any of them, although he’s got plenty of guts. But guts aren’t much use against them lot, it’s guile you want.’

  ‘If you are so worried about him then you must make him come here to sleep.’

  He gave a weak smile and put his hand out and touched her shoulder, saying, ‘That’s nice of you, kind, but I doubt if he would.’

  ‘Why not? He’s got over his shyness of me, he’s even, I think, beginning to like me. It gives me hope that your family may well follow suit.’

  He turned from her and went towards the mantelpiece. And now he looked up into the face of her great-grandfather, and he thought, That’ll be the day. That pig-headed lot. Even Ruth was included in his thoughts now.

  Jimmy, acting as a kind of go-between, had arranged that he should take her up one Saturday, and because she also demanded it, but much against the grain, he had complied. And what had happened? Nothing. She had sat there trying to talk her way into their good books, and how had they responded? By staring at her as if she were a curio.