At the close he gave a painful heave and said, ‘So there, after all that’s happened I’ve come full circle, still collecting scrap, the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Shoddy Nat the ragman – that’s what the kids call me, anyroad.’ He squeezed her hand and turned to look at her, his expression giving a hint that he enjoyed this little piece of celebrity.
Bright endeavoured to be as brief and unemotional as possible in filling in the details of her own life. ‘After I’d had Oriel and tried to kill myself—’
‘Oh Christ!’ Nat portrayed horror, staring at her.
Bright gave a humourless laugh. ‘Well, if we’re going to spend our lives together it’s only right that you know what you’re living with.’ She could not summon the courage to admit the whole story, how the voice in her head told her to kill her baby, how her frantic struggle to disobey that order had taken her to the point of death. ‘I was up before the beak who very kindly said I must be crazy so he wouldn’t put me in prison but I could have a little rest in the madhouse if I promised to be a good girl and not do it again. After that I never saw much of Mam. I might still have been in there if the old woman who owned this place, Miss Bytheway, hadn’t taken me in as a servant. I’ve lived and worked here ever since. God, did I work.’ She rolled her eyes and tossed her hair, appearing blithe but feeling physically sick at the memory. ‘A year or two ago I did get to thinking I should try and see Mam. She must be getting old and I felt like putting things straight before… well, you know. It took me ages to pluck up the courage to go and when I did the house was gone, and a few other places with it, to make way for a new road. York’s changing, isn’t it?’
‘Not enough for my liking,’ muttered Nat. ‘I thought I saw – in fact I’m bloody sure I saw ’em knocking the Industrial School down but it must’ve been wishful thinking ’cause it’s still standing. They must’ve just demolished some of the surrounding buildings. I were hoping a Zep would get it but – eh dear!’ He broke off with an incredulous shake of head. ‘I don’t know how you can even want me after all I’ve put you through. I suppose our Oriel thinks that too.’
‘She’ll come round in time. It’s like I said to her, if you love someone you love them no matter how much they hurt you.’ Bright gazed at him and waited.
Nat had never known any tenderness except for that which this woman had shown towards him. Even before his mother had left him she had never been the demonstrative kind. He had never told anyone he loved them until he had muttered it into Bright’s ear on the night that their child had been conceived. On that occasion he had had an ulterior motive.
Today the sentiment was genuine. ‘I know we’ve sort of taken it for granted but I haven’t asked formally. Will you marry me?’
She nodded and smiled, her eyes misting over.
‘When – tomorrow?’
She chuckled and wiped away her tears. ‘I think it would be more decent to wait until after Noel’s funeral.’
Nat winced. ‘I’m so happy I forgot about him.’ He hoped this admission would not diminish him further in her eyes. ‘All right then, it’s the Register Office on Monday – oh, but you might want to get married in a church. Do you still go?’
She laughed. ‘Oh yes. Conscience would never allow me to stay away.’ She had gone this morning to give thanks for the end of the war and for Nat being returned to her. ‘But you’d have to become a Catholic for them to marry us and quite frankly none of that’s important.’ This was not said without a great deal of thought having gone beforehand, but Bright had decided God wasn’t vindictive, unlike some of His clergy. He would allow her back into His house to pray even if the church didn’t recognize the marriage. ‘I just want to be with you.’
They embraced and kissed again, hugged and sighed and inhaled each other’s scent. Then there came the click of the back door and Nat sprang away, wincing at the pain in his shoulder and brushing frantically at his clothes.
‘She doesn’t seem to have been gone five minutes! I wanted to ask before she got back… would it be all right for me to stay here?’ At the look of embarrassment on Bright’s face he rushed to explain whilst the rustle of Oriel’s clothing grew ever closer. ‘I mean if you’ve got a spare room. I’m scared if I walk out of that door I’ll get flattened by a tram and never see you again. Besides, it’s funny after you’ve been in prison, you get a bit—’ He struggled for the right word.
‘Of course you can stay,’ Bright told him just as Oriel entered, and she threw a radiant smile at her daughter. ‘We’ve plenty of room, haven’t we, dear?’
Still pondering on the discovery that her grandmother had been a fourteen-year-old washerwoman when she had given birth, Oriel wrenched off her velvet beret and smoothed her hair, nose pink from the cycle ride. She noticed that her mother’s nose was pink too, but not from cold. It was always a giveaway sign that she had been crying, though the look on her face was far from sad at this moment. ‘Yes, we could put up an army.’ A forced smile hid resentment. It was her house, after all, left to her by Miss Bytheway. If anyone were to issue invitations it should be Oriel. However she had no wish to spoil her mother’s obvious happiness, especially when Bright divulged that they were going to be married on Monday.
They’re so full of themselves, thought Oriel, making their plans, neither of them cares what happens to me. The look on her father’s face when she had entered made her feel like an intruder in her own home. She managed to make her congratulations sound genuine and in part they were, but what a jumbled up bag of emotions went with them.
‘It doesn’t give us much time to buy new outfits though,’ she told them before sloughing her coat and going to hang it up.
‘I’m sure you both look lovely as you are,’ offered Nat as she disappeared, and in her absence he reserved his compliments for the mother, remarking on her shoes.
Bright lifted one of her feet, rotating her ankle to display a black pointed-toed shoe which had a neat little curved heel. ‘Yes, they’re new. Oriel persuaded me to buy them. I’m not really used to wearing anything so elegant.’
‘They show off your slim ankles,’ said Nat, moving his eyes to her dark-stockinged calves. ‘I like these new shorter skirts an’ all. If you have good legs, you ought to show ’em off.’
The latter was pure flattery and Bright was well aware of it. ‘What these? They’re like sticks of liquorice – thank you very much though,’ she added hastily, and gave a little chuckle just in case her ingratitude had offended him.
As Oriel reappeared her father was looking down ruefully at his own garb. ‘I’ll have to smarten meself up a bit before Monday. Do you fancy a wander to my house to collect some things?’ This was directed at Bright.
‘All right!’ She sprang up. ‘Oh, I forgot the pots. That gravy must have set like cement.’
‘I’ll do them,’ said Oriel.
‘Ooh, thanks. I can’t wait to see where your father lives – or where he used to live I should say.’ The animated face beamed at Nat, who had been instinctively comparing the two women; Oriel had a better figure than her mother, more rounded at the breast and hip and narrower in the waist – but then she was much younger. He flashed a smile at Bright before she tottered off to get her coat.
‘Wrap up, it’s a raw wind,’ instructed Oriel as her mother passed her. ‘You’ll be frozen in those shoes.’ Then she turned her face to Nat with a look of defiance. Don’t think I’m entirely pleased about this, her eyes told him, eyes that were the same blue as his own and had the ability to appear as cold.
He remembered the very first time he had seen this extremely pretty girl skipping along the road, and she had turned her face towards him, giving a brief but striking impersonation of his mother. In retrospect he had come to decide that this had been founded more on sentiment than on fact; his mother’s eyes had been brown and she had lacked the kind of spontaneous vivacity possessed by Oriel, who had inherited it from her own mother. Even if it was very tightly controlled in her father’s pre
sence he had, occasionally, been privileged to see her face light up in a way his mother’s never had, knew that behind that wall all manner of emotions seethed. Despite his previous declaration to Bright that Oriel hated him he did not want to believe it even in the face of such open hostility. The one trait that Oriel did share with Maria was that in this unsmiling mood she had the knack of making him feel like a little boy again. He had only just begun to realize that he was being asked to understand a very complicated young woman and did not know if he could stay the distance.
Oriel averted her eyes from the man whose attitude towards her had always seemed distant. Even his attempts to forge a bond between them had not appeared quite genuine when compared to her mother’s. She knew without being told that her mother loved her. Apart from the day when Nat’s dog had been killed Oriel had rarely been permitted to glimpse inside her father’s heart, could not really believe that he possessed such depth of feeling as she had witnessed then. Even allowing for the fact that it had not been a mere aberration, all it had told her was how much he had felt for the dog, not for her.
The awkward silence was interrupted. On Bright’s return she had exchanged the shoes for cloth-topped boots and was wearing a high-collared tweed coat and a blue felt hat trimmed with a rosette of ribbon, her kiss curls peeping from its turned up brim. She carried Nat’s overcoat upon her arm, examining the rent in its shoulder. ‘I don’t think I’m clever enough to mend this, it needs a specialist.’
‘Nay, don’t trouble yourself.’ He divested her of the garment and with stiff movements put it on. ‘I’ll chuck it out. I doubt I’ll need a coat where we’re going.’
Bright tittered. ‘Oh yes! Won’t it be strange?’ Then she looked at Oriel, rather beseechingly. ‘Have you decided whether—’
‘Not yet.’
Bright did not press the matter. Her daughter could never be coerced into anything. She would make the decision whether or not to emigrate with her parents in her own time. ‘Where’s your hat, by the way?’ She turned back to Nat. ‘I never noticed it when you came in.’
‘No, I lost it somewhere last night.’ He smoothed his hair, feeling half dressed and vulnerable without the headgear. ‘Never mind, I’ve plenty at home. Away, let’s be off.’
As Bright moved past, her daughter laid a delaying hand on her shoulder. ‘Hang on! I haven’t really given proper congratulations. I hope you’ll be very happy.’ And with tears in her eyes Oriel planted her full lips on her mother’s cheek, thereby confounding her father even more. Would he ever have her weighed up?
Envious, Nat opened the door and moved along the hall towards the front vestibule, not wanting to give the impression that he expected similar treatment. His daughter had never kissed him.
‘Ooh, your nose is like a block of ice!’ exclaimed Bright, and, patting her daughter’s cheek, followed Nat to the outer door. ‘And it’s not really the done thing to congratulate the bride – but thank you anyway, love.’ Closing the door after them, Oriel allowed her smile to sag, then went to do the washing up.
2
As on every previous release from incarceration, Nat felt oppressed by the surge of people and traffic in the city. To compensate, he was unusually loquacious, exclaiming as they alighted from the tram at the Coach and Horses public house in Nessgate, ‘Three ha’pence! I can’t get over it. Threepence for two seats that’d double for prison benches.’ He noticed Bright’s flush of embarrassment and read it correctly; what if anyone should overhear his knowledgeable reference to prison? Urging himself to be more careful, he babbled on, ‘How long’s it been that much?’
Perched on the kerb, Bright awaited a gap in the stream of traffic. ‘I can’t remember. It’s three ha’pence even if you only want to go one stop, so we did pretty well.’
‘And so did the tram company – a fifty per cent rise!’ He caught her smirk. ‘You think I’m tight, don’t you?’ She denied it with a little laugh. ‘You do. I’m sorry if I’m going on about it, it’s just that I can’t stand being robbed.’
‘No, I don’t honestly. I think you’re right, it is highway robbery. I’ll get the fares on the way home.’
‘You won’t, you know! I’ll harness t’horse up – if the army hasn’t snaffled him while I’ve been away.’ Nat hopped impatiently from one foot to the other as motor cars, bicycles, military vehicles and the occasional horse and cart kept appearing from around the bend, many bedecked with red, white and blue ribbons. A man and woman came to stand beside him at the kerb and with a thought as to the influenza epidemic he moved sideways to avoid possible contamination. ‘Once we get across I’ll just nip into that tobacconist over there.’
‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ He had shown no inclination to light up at all whilst in her house.
‘Oh, not regular, like. I just fancy one now and again.’ When the outside world made him anxious as it did right now. ‘I can take ’em or leave ’em really.’
She was peering at the sign in the tobacconist’s window that appeared between gaps in the procession. ‘Napoo – they haven’t got any.’
He moaned and threw his gaze upwards to the cat’s cradle of tramwires above the street, but then with a lull in the traffic he tightened his grip on her arm and, along with the knot of people who had gathered, they hurried across the granite setts and tramlines, dodging the odd pile of horse dung.
A group of pedestrians was crossing from the other side and there was a moment of near collision in the middle of the road. A man apologized to Bright. She smiled and was about to forgive him when she saw that he was looking at Nat with an expression of genuine fear. He cringed as if awaiting retribution. When none came he hurried on his way, head down, leaving the couple to proceed to their own destination.
‘Who was that?’ From the safety of the pavement she glanced over her shoulder, her breath visible on the cold damp air.
‘Who?’ Without looking at her, Nat led the way up High Ousegate.
‘The man who almost bumped into us. He obviously knew you.’ Bright guessed she must sound suspicious and instead of looking at him she gazed casually at the Art-Nouveau façade of Harding’s drapery, its windows arrayed in white linen.
‘Did he?’ Nat appeared to be unaffected by the encounter as they wandered up the street, each shop window displaying some red, white and blue token of victory. Though he had indeed recognized the man, a fleeting look of menace had been sufficient to convey his feelings to the errant debtor. Today he was too happy to concern himself with such lowlife. ‘Probably somebody who owes me money and thinks he’s got away with it while I’ve been on holiday.’
Bright immediately turned to look at him. ‘How d’you mean, owes you money?’
Nat realized with some disconcertment that she would be ignorant of his methods of earning his living. ‘Well, I give loans to people and sometimes they don’t want to pay them back – but that’s just one of the services I provide.’ He had never cared about the reputation that accompanied this type of business, but now it panicked him to think he might lose her because of it. ‘I have houses to let as well but mainly I still rely on the scrap collection business. If I banked on the folk who rent my houses I’d go bust. The state of some of them leave the places in – an animal wouldn’t be as dirty. And some of the excuses they give you for not paying their dues – huh!’ He shook his head.
Bright pondered on his explanation. So, that would account for the look of fear she had witnessed just a moment ago. She tilted her face to examine her husband-to-be through an outsider’s eyes. How very little she knew about Nat the man. Without a smile and cast in the gloomy half-light of this November afternoon she supposed he did look rather intimidating. Only those like herself who had known him since boyhood could detect the vulnerability in his eyes.
‘Did you see that?’ He felt unnerved by her scrutiny and sought to distract her. ‘Those darkies there.’ He pointed to two black men in uniform. ‘They just saluted that officer and he looked right through ’em as
if they didn’t exist. Ignorant pig! And they wonder why people are reluctant to join t’army.’
Bright allowed her abstracted gaze to follow his pointing finger across the road, offering sympathy for the soldiers’ denigration, but privately wondering over what had gone before.
Their feet carried them along the street’s humpback, in a direct line past All Saints Church with its octagonal lantern tower, and the men’s underground conveniences where the smell of disinfectant and urine wafted up the steps.
York was a small overpopulated city of narrow streets where churches and public houses abounded. Its buildings ranged from medieval hovels to symmetrical Georgian façades adorned with plaster swags; a patchwork of red brick, white stone and dirt-engrimed stucco, each edifice boasted some manner of ornament from Greek gods and goddesses to scarlet fork-tailed devils. The roofline undulated with jettied gables, cupolas, medieval spires and towers, the Minster dominating all. Glad to be leaving soon and blinkered by his new-found love, Nat paid little heed to his surroundings, but Bright’s eyes were rather wistful as they took in every detail, though her mood was induced by sentimentality. Only the fact that she would never look upon these landmarks again rendered them significant today.
They left the main street and wandered along a quiet backwater. Then abruptly Nat stopped outside one of the elegant dwellings and announced, ‘Well, this is it!’
It was a disquieting experience for Bright, stepping into a house in which Nat had lived for years: tricked into a sense of déjà vu by furnishings that were impregnated with the scent of its owner whom she knew well, yet at the same time totally ignorant of its history. ‘It’s lovely,’ she murmured. For one with such a lowly upbringing Nat had impeccable taste both in furnishings and clothes.
A Complicated Woman Page 3
