‘Happened?’ repeated Cathleen in surprise. ‘What do you mean, Uncle Rodney?’
‘Well…what did you talk about? What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’ Cathleen adopted the attitude of thinking. ‘Why, nothing…I only asked her how she was, and the usual things one says to sick people.’
‘Can’t you think of anything that might have upset her?’
‘No, of course not…Only…well, I mentioned Steve.’ Cathleen saw the tightening of Rodney’s jaw, and went on, ‘I said he was worried about her.’ She looked up at him, her eyes innocent and childlike in their perplexed stare.
‘Why did you say that?’ asked Rodney grimly.
‘Oh, just because the other day he told me that he was concerned about her. I suppose it’s natural, since it was he who found her that night.’
That was it, then: Steve’s name was mentioned, and Kate cried…In the name of God, why? he asked himself. Surely…No, no, he wouldn’t even think of it…Yet when he asked what the trouble was she would only say, ‘Don’t let Cathleen Davidson up here again. I don’t like her.’ He knew that Kate had never liked Cathleen, but she had never before been so openly hostile to her.
He tried to read behind Cathleen’s limpid gaze. Did she know something about Steve and Kate? Great heavens! what was he thinking?…His Kate, who loved him as no man had ever been loved before! But there was something. What was it? Kate’s continual crying of Steve’s name that night, then Steve giving a week’s notice …
He said, ‘Do you know Steve has left us?’
‘What!’ Cathleen’s exclamation was sharp. The pose of the child dropped from her. ‘You say Steve’s left? That’s impossible. I saw him …’ She pulled herself up. ‘When did he leave?’
‘Today.’
‘Today?’ repeated Cathleen. ‘Did he just…go off?’
‘No, he gave me a week’s notice.’
Cathleen’s incredulous look was genuine. ‘Does Kate know?’ she asked softly.
‘No’—Rodney’s voice was curt—‘I didn’t tell her. It might have upset her that he should leave us at this time.’
‘Yes…yes,’ said Cathleen slowly. She was recovering from her surprise.
Rodney, watching her closely, thought: What is it? She knows something. What can there be to know?
Cathleen turned away, tied up her portfolio and asked casually, ‘Did he say where he was going? Has he got another job?’
‘He said his brother in Harrogate wanted him to go into his garage business.’
‘Oh,’ said Cathleen evenly. ‘I didn’t know he had any family; I thought he was a lone man.’ Then she added, rather pathetically, ‘I seem to have caused quite an upheaval with my visit tonight. I had better cut them short in future.’ She tucked her sketches under her arm and made for the door, looking for the moment like a small, bewildered child.
‘Don’t be silly, Cathleen!’ Rodney said hastily. ‘You know you are as welcome here as you are at home.’
‘Oh, Uncle Rodney, that’s funny!’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘If you only knew how welcome I am at home sometimes.’
Rodney followed her, saying, ‘What utter nonsense, Cathleen!’
Annie watched them both go out. She was still holding on to the back of the chair. Into the upheaval of her mind there was creeping a terrifying thought: Rodney suspected something which implicated Steve and Kate. Why had Steve left, at this time when they needed him most? Cathleen knew why. This last thought made the terror so alive that for the moment it blotted out her own misery…Let what might happen to her, but nothing, nothing must happen to mar Kate’s and Rodney’s happiness.
On this thought she hurried upstairs, and found Kate lying back on her pillows, with the colour she had regained during the last few days drained now from her face.
‘Has she gone?’ Kate asked.
Annie nodded and took her hand.
‘What did Rodney say to her?’
‘He asked what she had said to you, and she told him she said Steve had been asking after you.
‘She told him that!’ Kate sat up.
‘Yes…Oh, Mam, don’t get excited. She didn’t know Steve had left.’ Annie pulled herself up too late.
Kate stared at her: ‘You say Steve has left? When? When did he go?’
‘Just today…Oh, I’m a fool; Rodney didn’t want you to know…Oh, Mam!’
Kate lay slowly back. That finished it. She couldn’t tell Rodney now, even if she wanted to. There was only her word against Cathleen’s, and although Rodney would believe her, Cathleen, in her own defence, would sow seeds of distrust in his mind. She was clever and dangerous. She thought of all the time she had spent alone in Steve’s company, when he was driving her to Newcastle, or on shopping expeditions. There had been ample opportunity for what Cathleen, in her clever way, would imply. She wouldn’t be above suggesting that the mistake that bred Annie could happen again…That girl! She was a devil! If only she felt stronger so that she could stand up to her. Oh, poor Steve, where had he gone? He had no-one belonging to him…And he was so happy here, until that…Tears overwhelmed her again, and she said aloud, ‘Oh, poor Steve.’
It was unfortunate that Rodney should enter the room at that moment. He stopped just inside the door and said quietly, ‘Why so much sympathy for Steve, Kate?’
Before Kate could reply, Annie said, ‘It’s my fault, Rodney; I blurted out that Steve had gone.’
Rodney limped past the bed and stood looking out of the window, and Kate called softly, ‘Darling, darling, come here.’
He went to her and took her outstretched hand, and she continued, ‘I’m silly, darling…It’s only that he’s been with us for so long. He was like one of the family, and we’ll miss him.’
Annie, watching Rodney’s face, saw him smile at Kate. But it wasn’t his usual smile, and she knew he didn’t believe this to be the full explanation. She went out, her heart like a dead weight in her breast. In her own room she picked up the letter she had written earlier, and began to tear it slowly into tiny shreds. But no matter how small the pieces became they did not erase the drawing of Terence from her mind. What an utter fool she was! She read his letter again; it was now merely a polite note. But the other morning in the dawn, and when he came to say goodbye as well, that hadn’t been mere politeness; it was a repetition of the night of the party. He was playing with her—and he had stood like that before Cathleen.
Oh dear God! She threw herself across the bed and buried her face in the crook of her arm. Oh dear God, stop me from loving him. Make me hate him as much as I do her. Yes, yes, do that; then I can bear it.
9
Annie’s hair was up; the silver braids were coiled into a bun in the nape of her neck. The colour of the hair and the size of the bun alone would have drawn eyes in her direction. But the addition of the fringe lying above her dark, arched brows and green eyes caused heads to be turned. Men stopped talking; their eyes, hungry but still kindly, would follow her. But most women looked sideways at her, or pretended not to see her at all. A few months ago they would have said, ‘Aye, she’s a bonny lass,’ but now she didn’t look a lass, she looked a woman, and she presented a danger and a challenge to some hidden thing within them, as her mother had before her.
Three women from the fifteen streets were standing at the corner of Shields marketplace watching Annie without apparently looking at her. They didn’t mind a woman being bonny, no, but there was a limit to the combined beauty their minds would receive without turning on the beauty itself and rending it. To have a skin like alabaster and an alluring slimness, and then that hair, was a bit too much of a good thing. No good would come of it…And it was looking that way already, for she didn’t pick her company, did she? They commented aloud on her companion, and, as one of them said, there was nowt much good to know of him, for if everyone had their due he would soon be paying a maintenance order to one of his father’s factory lasses, dirty upstart that he was! One, contemplating a stall of fruit
, said to the others under her breath, ‘They’re ’avin’ a row, look. She’s not going to wait for the tram, she’s off like the Devil in a gale of wind. Aye, and there he goes too…He’s like a bloody pontoon. God, how some women fall for flesh!’
As she hurried out of the marketplace, Annie felt Brian’s hand on her arm, and she was jerked to a stop. ‘Look here!’ said Brian. ‘I’m going to have my say out…Why, you’d think I was insulting you instead of asking you to marry me.’
‘You choose very odd places to have your say out. I’ve told you before I’ll not marry you now, or ever.’ Annie had spoken without looking at him, then walked on.
Striding by her side, Brian said, ‘Tell me what else I can do. When do I get a chance to see you alone, eh? It’s “I’m going here with Mam” or “I’m going there with Rodney”…It’s always Mam and Rodney. God! it gets me down!’
‘I’ve told you not to come up. I’m getting tired of telling you.’
‘Well, I’m getting tired too, but in a different way.’ His voice dropped low in his throat: ‘I’ll have you in the end, Annie, and you know it, so what’s the good of fighting? You’ve always been mine since you were a kid, and you’ll be mine in the right way before I’m finished.’ Or in the wrong, he added grimly to himself.
Like Kate, Annie walked with a swinging stride from the hips, and with each step the line of her thigh was evident, and her slim legs stirred Brian as no voluptuous curves could.
‘Why this touch-me-not attitude?’ he said. ‘You weren’t like this before Christmas.’
She turned on him, her eyes deep green with sudden anger. ‘I’ve always been like this where you’re concerned. Before you went away I told you I wouldn’t go with you, and since you’ve come back I’ve kept on telling you. Haven’t I told you to stop coming up? But you will come!’
He walked along in silence for some way before saying, as if to himself, ‘If the Oxford don wasn’t going with Cathleen Davidson I’d maybe get ideas in that quarter…It wouldn’t be him, would it, Annie?’ His tone was quietly ominous.
Her pace quickened. ‘No, it wouldn’t be him! It isn’t him or anyone, for you see…Oh, I’ll have to tell you this to make you see. I’m not going to marry. I’m…I’m going into the Church. I’m going to be a nun.’
In and out of the people on the crowded pavements they went, sometimes together, sometimes separated. It wasn’t until they were in a comparatively quiet street, leading to Leygate, that Brian started to laugh. It was just a low rumble at first, but, gathering force, it became a bellow, in which passers-by joined, saying, ‘Tell us the joke, man!’ His huge body shook, and the quivering of his flesh was evident through the thin suiting of his jacket.
Scarlet of face, Annie appealed to him, ‘Be quiet, Brian. Please, Brian, be quiet!’
Gradually he stopped and, wiping his eyes, said, ‘So you’re going to be a nun?’
The very mention of the word threatened to set him off again, and Annie cried, ‘There’s nothing to laugh at! Anyway, I’m quite serious and I shouldn’t have told you—no-one knows yet. I can’t tell Mam until she is herself again…You won’t mention it, will you, Brian?’ she entreated him. ‘Please don’t say anything. Please.’
‘No, no,’ he said. ‘You can trust me. Remember, I used to keep your secrets when you were a kid?’ He gave her a sly glance. But she didn’t pick up the reference in his last remark; her mind was too full of the present.
‘You don’t mind what I’ve told you?’ she asked, a little bewildered.
‘Mind? Not me. I’ve only got the Church to fight now, and I thought it was Macbane, or young Davidson, or half a dozen others…No, I don’t mind.’ No, he thought to himself, there’s one sure way to fight the Church…A nun, by God! Well, I’ll give her something that’ll make her come yelping if she doesn’t want to be in the same boat as her mother was…A nun, by God! That’s funny, with a mouth like hers, and those legs.
After failing to persuade her to go to a show with him in Newcastle that evening, he left her at Tyne Dock on her way to the Mullens’. It was Saturday, so the trams were full, and hot as it was she preferred walking to sitting crushed in a tram. Steam was rising from the pavements under the arches, and as she walked it swirled around her ankles like mist from a marsh. She felt tired and weary after her conflict with Brian. If only he would stop pestering her; she seemed unable to combat him. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be for much longer.
Out of the shade of the arches the sun struck the lead-coloured pavements, and the glare hurt her eyes. This time last week she was in Paris. Yet it was odd: even with all the dirt and drabness and heat, she preferred to be here. Why did people rave about Paris? To her, the Champs Elysées was just a wide street, and the restaurants were just places where one paid treble the value for everything. Would she have enjoyed it more had she not forever been on the look-out for Cathleen and Terence, she wondered. Although Rodney had Cathleen’s address, he never suggested they should pay her a visit. Cathleen had gone to Paris with another girl artist, while Terence started for France a few days later, presumably on a cycling tour.
She had not seen him once since the start of his summer vac. It was a passing remark of his mother’s that gave her the information that he might be going to Paris: ‘Awful weather, Miss Annie,’ she said. ‘I hope it clears up soon, for Terence started on his cycle tour this morning. He’s going all the way to France.’ They had smiled at each other sadly, and Annie said she hoped it would clear up.
In Notre Dame, in the Louvre, looking at the priceless paintings that had no power to stir her, walking in the grounds of the palace of Versailles, scanning the people from the terraces, everywhere she went she found herself looking for them.
Nor, Annie guessed, did Kate enjoy the holiday either. She was anxious all the time about the children, and although she appeared gay there was an undercurrent to her gaiety. She had not returned to her former strength or sparkle; only once during the holiday did she appear to act like the old Kate, and the righteous indignation she showed on this occasion upset Annie. It was during a visit to Notre Dame. Having passed the beggars on the steps and looked around for a while inside the church, they joined a group who were buying tickets to view the treasures. At the cost of a few pence fabulous wealth in the form of gold and jewels, vestments studded with gems, chalices and church plate could be viewed. Annie had been upset at the time by Kate’s attack on the wealth of the Church in striking contrast to the beggars on its steps and the poverty outside; the bare-facedness of selling tickets to view the wealth aroused her wrath. She quoted Christ throwing the money changers out of the Temple. Rodney agreed with all Kate was saying, until he saw Annie’s face. A signal was passed to Kate and she became silent. Then later, in the street, she took Annie’s arm and became gay again. But Annie was hurt; it was as if the attack had been made on her. She had wanted to say, if the jewels were turned into money to be given away, the people would only come back for more and more. There would always be poor people, for some were born shiftless. Sister Ann had explained a similar situation in that way, and Annie could see that it might be right.
No, Paris had not been a success. In just one more week the holidays would be over and she would return to college. She wasn’t looking forward to it very much. Sister Ann, she knew, would be delighted to hear she wanted to be a nun. Would she be allowed to do her novitiate near her, she wondered, or would she be sent to another house? That depended on the Mother Superior.
The thought of the Mother Superior chilled her a little. She would have to go to her and tell her everything, and once she did that the die would be cast. The finality of this acted as a deterrent. She felt she must think very carefully about the whole situation, and have everything straight in her mind before telling anyone.
But Brian knew. Of all people, he had been the first to be told! And the effect was entirely lost, for it did not put him off at all, only amused him. She was beginning to dislike Brian, and even to be a little afr
aid of him. Up till last Christmas she had found him amusing and good company, but now nearly every time they met he did something to upset her. Just the other day, coming upon her unexpectedly from behind in the wood, he put his arms about her, and his hands covered her breasts, squeezing them tightly. They hurt all day afterwards. He was forever wanting to touch her. What could she do to be rid of him? If what she had told him would not deter him, what would?
As she neared the fifteen streets, she was thinking life was very difficult. Once she had imagined that with a nice house and money life couldn’t be other than wonderful, but now she was learning that happiness depended very little on material things. It was what was going on inside one that counted. For instance, look at the Mullens: they had nothing—at best they lived from hand to mouth—but they all seemed happy. At least, they derived happiness from the little they had, whereas she, who had everything, wasn’t happy. No, she told herself, I’m not happy…Why can’t I be happy with what I have?
Her thoughts were dragged away from herself by a yelping sound of anguish, and looking ahead she saw two small boys, one of whom was rhythmically knocking the other’s head against a telegraph pole. She recognised the aggressor as the youngest Mullen, and she ran to him, calling out, ‘Jimmy, stop it this minute!’
Jimmy stopped, but still held his victim against the pole. He turned a dirty, impish face to Annie and grinned. ‘Hello, Annie.’
‘Let him go,’ said Annie. ‘You’re a bad boy, Jimmy!’
‘Aa ain’t, it’s him. He’s tuppence and he won’t stand me a treat to the Crown, an’ Aa’ll miss the serial.’
‘Here,’ said Annie, opening her bag and handing him sixpence, ‘let him be, and get off to the Crown.’
The snivelling victim was released, and didn’t wait to be told to run. Jimmy grinned widely at Annie and said, ‘Ooh! sixpence! But its too late to gan noo, Aa’ll walk back home with yer.’
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