‘Mr. Haynes, my poor deceased mother dead and gone but she was against it. She tell me: “Alice, he is a man who you will have to help. He isn’t a man who will help you.”
‘She was against it, but my life was spoilt already. I couldn’t stop a widow all the days of my life, and I went with him. My mother wouldn’t have anything to do with me after that. She died and I didn’t see her. When I wanted to go, the man keep me back, and when I went up it was too late. Poor woman, I glad she didn’t live to see me as I am today. She wanted me when she was dying and was only calling for me. She died and I didn’t see her. All on account of this man.
‘She leave the little property, the house she used to live in and two others for me. Little houses, but, still, something. Well, Mr. Benoit and me was getting on good. I made one baby for him and I lose it. Working, yes, Mr. Haynes! When I should have been lying down I was working. I nearly died and the doctor say I wouldn’t have any more.
‘It was bitter for me, but now I see that God in his wisdom knew better. Where I would have been today with a long string of children to support?’
‘Perhaps that might have kept him.’
‘Perhaps. But nothing was going to keep him, Mr. Haynes. Not that man. Anyway, as I was telling you, we work hard together. He help me well and we made some money and we live a happy life. We had our little troubles, but the King and Queen have them, and he was always a man who like a frock. But all men are like that, and when you married a man and get to know him well there’s plenty of things you must see and don’t see. He make me sell the property. As if he didn’t like me to have anything by myself. He worry me till I sell it. Then we start to build this house. Trouble, Mr. Haynes? We start just as the war break out. Prices went up. I can’t tell you the trouble we had. At last we finish it. And all the time Mr. Benoit living high. He used to dress. When he step out people take him for a barrister or a doctor. He eat the best and drink the best, and whenever he was going out, five, ten, fifteen dollars in his pocket. I see that man go to races one year and spend a hundred and forty dollars in the three days. We used to rent out the house, but after a time things went so bad, you remember the bad times – we had to come and live here. Then the restaurant-parlour we had went down. We give it up and we start this cake business. Mr. Haynes, all this time the man wouldn’t finish paying off the mortgage. If things get bad, live a little quiet, give up luxuries till they get better and then you will live as you used to. No, he wouldn’t do that. When he want money he make a row if I didn’t borrow it. He borrow here, he borrow there, and now when things really turn bad he leave me. But God will punish him, Mr. Haynes.’
She held her head back and it quivered on her neck. Indignation, justifiable, shone in her eyes and transfigured her face. Over the lips towered the Roman nose. She spoke with power.
‘God will punish him, Mr. Haynes. He can’t escape. I am going to see him suffer. I am going to see Mr. Benoit suffer. You can see the wrong he have done me. I can see it. Everybody can see it. You don’t think God can see it, too? He watching, He seeing, He saying nothing, but He not sleeping. God don’t like ugly, Mr. Haynes, and tears of blood going to run from Mr. Benoit’s eyes for the misery he have caused me. His heart hurting him where he is. If things was going nice and easy it would hurt him, much less now that he seeing trouble. His mind going to come back to me. As I tell him one day when we was quarrelling about the woman, he say he was going. I tell him, “Go, but you will never forget me.”
‘“Where ever you may be, by land or by sea
My spirit before you, you will ever see.”
‘Mr. Haynes, I have been more than a wife to him. I have been a mother. I nurse him in sickness. I shield him from harm. And he gone and leave me. But let him go with that woman. The day will come when he will call for the one he leave behind.
‘Mr. Haynes, if my little child that died was alive today so that I could hold her to my bosom and cherish her, or if Maisie was a different child, a girl who could comfort me, it wouldn’t be so hard. What hurts me is that I have nobody.
‘But, Mr. Haynes,’ her voice which had softened rose again, ‘Maisie not going to stay in my house after I put my business in order. I can’t keep her here. She brings back all my wrongs when I see her. You see I leave her alone. I don’t ask her to do anything. I leave her to do what she want. All the work I have I fight with it, me and Philomen. She knew everything, Mr. Haynes, and she used to be standing by the gate on a Sunday morning looking to see when I coming up while the two of them carrying on inside. The girl betray my honour for vanilla ice cream and sugar cake. And the man didn’t have no shame. Look who he had assisting him in his nastiness. A child who used to call him Pappy, and who he held in his arms as a baby. I well rid of him. Yes, Mr. Haynes, I well rid of him. Men change. They all right in prosperity, but when adversity come, then you see the bones of them. You are a gentleman, Mr. Haynes, and I can tell you this. If you know what Mr. Benoit ask me to do a few months before you come to live here! Races was coming on and he wanted a suit and money to go. He tell me to go to town and see Mr. Nesfield who carry on that grocery in Main Street. We used to deal there long ago. He tell me to go and tell Mr. Nesfield we in difficulty and if he could lend us fifty dollars. I tell him: “McCarthy, try and do without the money. Let us keep down a little and then we will have times as before.” Mr. Haynes, the man make such a row that for peace I had to go. And when I dress the morning to go he call me and tell me: “A., you know if Mr. Nesfield scrupling to lend you the money and he offer to you, that wouldn’t be nothing if you take him. As long as you don’t do it in secret behind my back i’s all right.” That what he tell me, Mr. Haynes. After we live sixteen years and I was a true and faithful— I was true and faithful. You don’t see the man didn’t have any respect for me? I was only his convenience.’
She dropped a tear or two on the table. A gust of wind blew some of the receipts out of the box all over the room and some into the yard.
‘No, Mr. Haynes. Leave them. Maisie!’
‘Yes, Tante,’ said Maisie, immediately, from Miss Atwell’s doorstep.
‘Go outside and pick up those receipts and then come in here and pick up these.’
She was standing and did not sit down again.
‘Mr. Haynes, I leave them to the will of God. He will deal with them in his good time. I have them in the hollow of my hand, but leave them to Him. Yes, Mr. Haynes, in the hollow of my hand. The nurse is a famous thief. Wherever she go to, the nurse steal something. Links, gold stud, gold watch, gold-stoppered bottle, cigars, brandy. Don’t laugh, Mr. Haynes, it’s true. Everything that woman put her hand on she steal. And she bring them here. She used to say it was presents they give her, but once when she thought they was going to lock her up she telephone to him and tell him where the key was, and to open her press, and take all the jewels he see and hide them. She was expecting the police to come. But they didn’t come. And after that the man used to wear the links and the stud. I used to tell him: “McCarthy, don’t do it.” He wouldn’t hear. And they have the things down there, Mr. Haynes. I only have to go down to the Constabulary and lay my information and the two of them will sleep in the cell tonight. Because reports been made to the police already about the missing things. But I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Haynes. Perhaps my principle is too high. But she told me in confidence when she was my friend and I wouldn’t use it now she is my enemy.’
The clock struck three.
She was a little hoarse. She had been talking for nearly two hours. But Haynes was far from tired and could have listened to the subdued passion of her voice and watched the working of her face until dark.
‘Mr. Haynes, I been here since one o’clock. I keep you back from your work. You must excuse me. Sometimes I feel if I don’t speak to somebody I will die. I have everything here,’ she laid her hand on her bosom.
‘At any rate, Mrs. Rouse,’ said Haynes, striving to rise to the occasion, ‘you must keep your spirits up. You mustn’t t
hink of your troubles too much.’
She smiled gratefully.
‘All right, Mr. Haynes. As you see, I am fighting. And I have the Great Helper of the afflicted. God is there for all those who need him. I would have sink to the ground already, but prayers sustain me. They wouldn’t get my house, Mr. Haynes. And I not going to go mad. Let them wait. Four times a day I kneel to my Maker. Six in the morning, midday, six in the evening and at midnight. Whatever I am doing I leave it when that hour come. I go to my bedroom, I compose myself, and then I speak to my God.’
‘At twelve in the night too!’ Haynes, remembering the woman’s labours in the day, wondered at the heroic vigils she must endure to fulfil this voluntary programme.
‘At midnight,’ she said proudly, conscious of the powers it displayed to keep so exacting a tryst. ‘And I don’t go to sleep, Mr. Haynes. I am sleepy and tired, but I sit in my rocking chair, dozing and waiting till the clock strike twelve every night before I think of going to bed.’
‘And one night, Mr. Haynes,’ said Maisie, appearing on the doorstep with some of the receipts in her hand. ‘One night Mrs. Rouse fall. Every night she only nodding and nodding in the chair and this night she was nodding and when the clock strike she start up and the rocking chair tumble over and she come down flat.’
Maisie was enjoying her own joke, but Haynes dared not smile and he kept his eye on Mrs. Rouse, whose face darkened as the tropical sky before rain.
‘Excuse me, Mr. Haynes.’ She turned to Maisie and shook her finger under her nose. ‘Move aside and let me pass. Go on, young woman. Whether anybody there or not, you have no respect for me. But if next year meet you in this house you lucky. You will find out if those you join with to kill me want you now.’
Chapter Nineteen
Haynes went to see Ella one day and came back to No. 2 rather grave. Ella was no better and was going to the country to be taken care of by her mother. She had not wanted to go, had held on to the last minute. But Haynes insisted, for her condition was obvious. Ella had hinted that he should move. She said she had a friend who would be able to take her place.
‘You are afraid, Ella, that they will take me away from you. But don’t be afraid. That is impossible. You remember how the nurse tried and I put a stop to it.’
Ella had left it at that, but slyly and respectfully (yet very firmly) she had examined Haynes about how much money he gave Mrs. Rouse, and what she gave him to eat and how long the money lasted and all the various things which she used to manage.
‘Everything is all right, isn’t it, Ella?’ And Ella had had to admit that everything was.
But walking home Haynes had been driven to think of a few things which had never crossed his mind before. Mrs. Rouse, he knew, was in great straits. Where formerly Benoit, Aucher and Wilhelmina helped, now there was only Philomen, and a Philomen who had more to do with every succeeding day. Now and then Mrs. Rouse engaged a boy, but usually he stole the cakes. Some of them complained of the heat of the kitchen, and they were sometimes very rude when Mrs. Rouse asked them as she often had to do to wait a few days before they were paid. And then, too, there was no denying that Mrs. Rouse was a difficult woman to work with in these days. Haynes recalled certain frantic efforts on mornings to borrow a shilling here or eighteen pence there, to help in the making of cakes. There were times when Mrs. Rouse would be walking up and down the yard waiting anxiously for Philomen to find out if her efforts to secure credit for flour or sugar had been successful. He had no right to be adding the burden of his business on hers. And once he began to think that, he thought over it with ever-increasing dissatisfaction with himself and a feeling that he should put his business right at once.
When he reached home he called Philomen and told her that he wanted to speak to her about something – something rather important. Philomen asked if it would take long. Haynes said he thought it would. He would thrash the matter out thoroughly with Philomen and then speak to Mrs. Rouse. Philomen said that Mrs. Rouse had friends – Haynes could hear them in Miss Atwell’s room next door. She was busy cleaning up the kitchen, but in half an hour she would be finished and then she would come.
Haynes had barely finished talking to Philomen when Maisie came into the room.
‘By the way, Maisie,’ said Haynes, ‘Mrs. Rouse’s business is giving her more trouble than before. Business is going worse.’
‘What is that to me?’ said Maisie. ‘Business could go smash as far as I care. And to besides, Mrs. Rouse is all right, Mr. Haynes. She has a man running after her now.’
‘What!’ said Haynes.
‘Yes, he’s a policeman.’
‘What sort of a man is he?’
‘A man, Mr. Haynes. What sort of a man, you expect him to be? Some old frump. I often wonder how old people make love. Love is a matter for young people, people like you and me, Mr. Haynes.’
‘And Mr. Boyce,’ said Haynes.
Haynes had surprised himself by the good temper and generosity with which he had drawn aside and allowed himself to be defeated by Boyce in the race for Maisie’s affections. Maisie did not answer at once. She merely shrugged her shoulders.
‘But I haven’t seen him round here for some time, Maisie.’
‘And you’re not going to see him either,’ said Maisie. ‘I suppose now that he has got what he was bothering me for he is not coming back here again.’
And having said this almost with anger, Maisie’s mood changed and she smiled mysteriously to herself, with a touch of scorn, and gave Haynes time to consider it.
Haynes, after the first shock, reacted strongly. He considered what Maisie had said. He also considered Maisie. Her confession of Boyce’s success fired his imagination. And now Boyce was gone. There was a touch of repulsion at the idea of so quickly succeeding someone else, and that person, a friend of his. But Haynes badly wanted to start making love to someone. And he was as certain as could be that Maisie would not repulse his advances, was inviting him to make some. There she was, leaning forward in the rocking chair waiting. Her lower lip pouted a little in vexation. But that was as it should be. Haynes saw himself soothing the scowl into a shy smile of acquiescence and at the end Maisie sleeping peacefully in his arms. Why not do something now? But she was too far away. He was sitting on the bed. If she were sitting next to him no one would be able to see. As it was if he went over to her, then Philomen might be able to see them from the kitchen. Hard lines. He glanced at the door and considered the angle.
‘Have a cigarette, Mr. Haynes,’ said Maisie. ‘Let me light it for you.’ And she brought it for him and sat down on the bed beside him.
She lit the cigarette, but did not move. Haynes puffed twice and then put it on the table. Now he was in the very lists of love. Maisie lifted the cigarette from the table and put it in the ash tray. When she brought her hand back she put it on the bed. Haynes could feel it resting against his leg. She left it there. Now certainly was the time. Better hold her hand first so as not to startle her. If he acted too suddenly she might scream or utter a cry and those next door might hear. Yes, he had to guard against that. There was a lot of talking and laughing next door, but if he startled Maisie in any way and she shrieked they would certainly ask what was that. His hand moved furtively towards hers.
There was a sudden lull in the conversation next door. Haynes stopped at once. Better wait until they began again. He stole a glance at Maisie. She was leaning forward, her eyes on the table before her, but as he looked at her, although she did not look at him he knew that she had seen him for she swayed towards him, and he felt her body lean slightly against his. The talking and chattering started next door. Haynes looked at Maisie’s hand. He would hold it first and then not say a word, but merely put his arm round her waist and draw her to him. He would do it. He would.
‘Mr. Haynes,’ came Philomen’s clear voice from outside, ‘I’ll be ready in five minutes.’
‘Very well, Philomen,’ said Haynes, ‘as soon as you are ready.’ He got up quick
ly from the bed. ‘Have a cigarette, Maisie,’ he said.
He held a match for her with fingers that trembled. Maisie had given no sign, but as the match shook in Haynes’s fingers, she held his wrist to steady it.
‘Thank you, Mr. Haynes,’ she said without looking at him. ‘If Philomen is coming in here I am going out. Is she going to stay long?’
‘Not too long,’ said Haynes.
‘I’ll come back later,’ she said, and she left. But before she left she gave him one long, farewell look which was at once a reminder, an invitation and a promise of good things to come.
Haynes began by referring to Ella’s continued absence. Philomen had brought in some sewing, but she put it aside and stopped him at once.
‘I hope you not thinkin’ of gettin’ somebody in her place, Mr. Haynes.’ And when he did not answer she shook her head decisively.
‘No, Mr. Haynes. Busy as you see Mrs. Rouse, if you stop the cookin’ it will hurt her too much. She will think something displease you.’
They could talk freely as the laughing, animated conversation still went on next door.
‘Mrs. Rouse happy,’ Philomen looked up and smiled. ‘I glad to hear her laughin’. She have enough trouble, poor woman.’
‘That is why—’
‘You have nothing to do with that, Mr. Haynes. We are all glad to do anything for you. But things are really bad all the same. Christmas comin’ and I don’t know what sort of Christmas the madam goin’ to spend.’
‘What about you and Christmas?’
‘Me, Mr. Haynes? I all right. As long as Sugdeo don’t get jealous and cause me anxiety nothin’ trouble me. I’s Mrs. Rouse I studyin’. Mr. Benoit gone. She goin’ to miss ’im this Christmas. And then no money to buy anything at all. Mrs. Rouse like nice wine and stout. She don’t eat much, but she like to drink on a spree day. Christmas long ago she and Mr. Benoit used to have champagne and Guinness stout mixed.’
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