Minty Alley

by C. L. R. James

  Ella did not receive him coldly. She laughed, and he told her he was glad to see her looking so well.

  ‘You lookin’ well, too, sir,’ she replied. ‘Mrs. Rouse and them takin’ good care o’ you, sir … I hear you boardin’ with them, sir, and you don’t want me, sir. That’s why I didn’t come.’

  ‘It isn’t that I didn’t want you any more, Ella.’ He explained to her as best he could. When he told her that Miss Atwell had assured him that she was still ill, she rapped out:

  ‘That’s a lie. I was well before Christmas and I was comin’. But everybody tell me to stop and spend Christmas, especially as I know you used to go to the country for Christmas.’

  Ella was taking it easily, but her resentment was plain. She had stuck to him all through his mother’s illness, had helped in ways for which he could never repay her, and now when she was ill, he had allowed these strangers to take him away. And yet he knew that Ella was not blaming him, but was wrath with them.

  Haynes said goodbye.

  ‘Goodbye, sir. I sorry the day I ever take you to No. 2, sir. I know from the first that they was goin’ to try and get you away from me, sir. That Mrs. Rouse! She don’t look it, but she is as deep a tricker as the rest, sir. Beware o’ them people, sir.’

  The next two or three days were difficult ones for Haynes. The household with remarkable sensitiveness avoided him – even Maisie, probably on Mrs. Rouse’s stringent orders; perhaps, however, she was on some intimate affair of her own. Haynes felt that he had been had. And it was the feeling that Mrs. Rouse had been concerned in some low conspiracy against him that worried him. He found himself thinking of it at meals, at work, in bed; and some of his old timidity and distrustfulness came creeping over him. The awkwardness over Ella he had been able to overcome without difficulty. But he had been fitting himself into the home life at No. 2, and now this thing had come to upset him. He felt surprisingly desolate. Was all this good will and kindness merely to catch him? Was he a trusting Simple Simon? He did not know what to think and was surprised how much he worried over such a little thing. After all, he lived there, was very comfortable. They were as nice as ever. Why bother? But still he doubted and brooded until, chiefly through Maisie, his doubts were resolved, or at least he worried about the matter no longer.

  Maisie was determined to get even with Mrs. Rouse. Haynes heard Mrs. Rouse say once or twice that Maisie was doing her best to pick a quarrel. He thought that the expression was only a figure of speech for Maisie’s usual mischievousness. But the words were literally true, for Maisie exerted herself until she had deliberately brought about a tension. On the Sunday after New Year’s Day the quarrel broke at last.

  ‘Yes,’ she screamed from the alley, whither she had retired after the early exchanges, ‘all you only have eyes for me, all that I doing, how I bad. But God going to punish all you for your wicked deeds. All you take away Mr. Haynes from Ella. From the first day the gentleman come here all you been trying to take him away. And when all you couldn’t get him, all you invite him and give him a lot of food and things to drink to fool him. You lie on Ella and say she sick? Elsie Daniel come here and I hear her tell all you that she see Ella in Hastings and that Ella well and coming back, and all you lie and lie and lie until all you take him away to get his money to spend.’

  Mrs. Rouse emerged from the kitchen, hatchet in hand: ‘I going to kill her this morning,’ she said. ‘This is the end. Nobody tell me anything.’

  Since that night with Benoit and the knife Haynes had always treated Mrs. Rouse’s histrionics with a measure of seriousness. He did not wait for Miss Atwell, but went straight out and held Mrs. Rouse by the arm.

  ‘Don’t worry yourself, Mrs. Rouse. You think I believe all that rubbish Maisie is babbling out there? She is only doing it to worry you. I know it is not true. Maisie knows it is not true. But all she wants is to get you into a passion.’

  Mrs. Rouse allowed herself to be disarmed and led back inside.

  ‘Thank you, Mr. Haynes. It is good you are a gentleman like that. If was somebody else they would believe all the lies that flowing out of that girl’s mouth.’

  But all the demons of doubt and suspicion were once more active in Haynes’s mind. He had been reading when the disturbance occurred, but now he put his book on the floor beside him and sat up in the armchair thinking hard. If all this had been mere pretence and he had been the prey of designing people he would go back to his mother’s house, send for Ella and shut himself away from the world again. Suddenly Mrs. Rouse appeared at the doorstep.

  ‘Mr. Haynes,’ she said. ‘Here is your twenty dollars.’ And she held out the four green notes in her hand. ‘Take it back. You have been too much of a help in my great trouble for that child of evil to say the things she is saying. I am old enough to be your mother, Mr. Haynes, and God is my witness …’

  She broke down and Haynes rose to his feet and held her hand and closed her fingers over the notes.

  ‘No, no, no, Mrs. Rouse. I believe you. I believe you absolutely. If I didn’t I wouldn’t stay here. You have my fullest confidence as I know I have yours.’

  ‘Them is noble words,’ said Miss Atwell, who had been listening just outside the door, and came in to add her quota.

  Five minutes after both had gone and Haynes was left alone. He wanted to tell the spiteful little bitch, yes, that’s what she was, a spiteful little bitch, exactly what he thought of her. He felt implicit confidence in Mrs. Rouse now, a confidence which nothing that Maisie said would ever shake. He felt a load lifted off his shoulders and only then knew how much the good will and sincerity of No. 2 meant to him. And Maisie. He felt an itching in his tongue to tell her that she was a spiteful little bitch. Never in his life had Haynes used such words or applied them to anyone even in his mind. He had heard the expression used once by Benoit months ago and now he remembered it. How it would startle Maisie! Curious that though he was certain she was lying and wanted to curse her for it he hadn’t the slightest ill-will towards her. He made up his mind to greet her with the words if she came. It would help. But Maisie did not come.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was about this time that Benoit started to show himself round No. 2, walking up and down, standing at the corner, even talking to Maisie on the side-walk. Contrary to the general expectation, Mrs. Rouse never stirred an inch to see him, though some of the family peeped through the front window. Mrs. Rouse had never met him and said she didn’t want to. She said she had been living in sin, God had punished her and shown her the way out and she prayed to Him for courage and strength to live a decent life. Once, however, when Maisie raised a wolf cry of ‘The nurse! The nurse!’ Mrs. Rouse left a slipper behind in her dash to catch a glimpse. She said she wanted to see how the prostitute was faring as a married woman.

  Although the town was small, neither Haynes nor Mrs. Rouse had ever seen the nurse since the day she had left No. 2. Maisie had stolen away once or twice to see her, Philomen had met her and they talked, Miss Atwell saw her and passed her as if it was she and not Mrs. Rouse who had been deprived of Benoit. But Mrs. Rouse and Haynes, who most wanted to see her, never. When they did see her, they saw her together, the day she was sentenced.

  About four o’clock one afternoon Haynes was driving in the tramcar, on the firm’s business, when he caught a fleeting glimpse of the tail-end of a crowd above which towered a policeman’s helmet. Many heads turned and there was a buzz of conversation in the tram. At the next stop someone came into the tram and, as is the habit in the West Indies, started to tell the conductor all about it. The crowd was following a nurse, a thin little white woman, married the other day to a black fellow, Benoit. Some report had been made to the police-station about her stealing things. A policeman had arrested her and was taking her to the station. The news had created a sensation in the town, for many people knew the nurse, especially since the romantic marriage.

  Haynes hurried through what he had to do and sped home as fast as he could in order
to be able to give the news to Mrs. Rouse. Had she succumbed to temptation and informed the police? He did not think so. But he wanted to know and to hear what she would say when she heard. But with all his haste, Philomen forestalled him. He was just in time for the tail-end of her account. Maisie, Miss Atwell, Aucher and one or two neighbours formed a group in the yard while Philomen told what she had seen. As soon as Haynes appeared she stopped.

  ‘Mr. Haynes!’ said Maisie.

  ‘You heard, Mr. Haynes?’ said Mrs. Rouse. ‘If you were in town, you heard.’

  ‘Yes,’ Haynes replied, ‘but don’t let me interrupt Philomen. Go on, Philomen. You said you saw her coming down with the parcels—’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Haynes. She had a big basket of clothes on her hand as when you carryin’ a baby, and the two police one on each side and the inspector behind. And one crowd of people! But she wasn’t crying nor nothing, you know. She had on the uniform and the glasses and her head straight up. And so she pass into the station. I was going close, but they had too much people, so I make my round as fast as I could and come back up to tell Mrs. Rouse. I just reach.’

  ‘If was me I would ’ave died,’ said Miss Atwell.

  ‘I know I wouldn’t have carried any basket,’ said Maisie. ‘To go down I would have had to go down, but they couldn’t force me to carry any basket. If they wanted any basket they could have carried it themselves.’

  Mrs. Rouse looked at her, but decided to say nothing. She spoke to Haynes.

  ‘You see what I was telling you that day was no lie, Mr. Haynes. God let it work round so. That is my revenge.’ Her lips were a piece of wire and her eyes shone like steel. ‘God is great, Mr. Haynes, look what she come to. Down Main Street like the common thief that she is, carrying all that she thief before her. And Mr. Benoit! Where he going to hide his head, Mr. Haynes? Where he going to put it? But let him look out for himself, too, Mr. Haynes. See if they don’t work him into it. She is his wife. He have to stand responsible for her; he cannot shirk his duty now. He went in the church with her. For better or for worse. And, Mr. Haynes, he used to wear the things. People used to see him. You watch and see whether they don’t bring him in with her before the case finish.’

  She paused for lack of breath.

  ‘But if you did see her goin’ down!’ said Philomen. ‘All the barristers and solicitors and clerks in Court Street comin’ out to watch her goin’ down with this big parcel. And the police! And the people! God, if was me, I would have died.’

  ‘Poor thing!’ said Maisie.

  There was scarcely an occasion Haynes could remember in which Maisie either through inadvertence or malice, or both, did not with infallible instinct say or do the thing most calculated to ignite Mrs. Rouse.

  ‘Poor thing! It would take a dog like you to say “poor thing.” Yes. You and she is the same breed. That’s why you say “poor thing.” You didn’t say “poor thing” when you was helping she and the man to stab me in my back. All the persecutions the woman persecute me you didn’t say “poor thing.” When I working here day and night to get food to give you, you don’t say “poor thing.” But when God give this one what she deserve – look here, girl, move.’ Mrs. Rouse was already in a frightful passion and advanced a step towards Maisie. ‘Move, before I strike you down.’ Miss Atwell rushed dramatically in between them. Miss Atwell, though sincerely deploring the quarrels, enjoyed the part of peacemaker, especially when it came to rushing in ‘to save Mrs. Rouse from trouble.’

  Maisie walked quietly off.

  ‘Strike me down, eh? You think is so people does get strike down? Try it and see if both of us don’t sleep with the nurse tonight.’

  ‘Don’t bother with her, Mrs. Rouse,’ said Miss Atwell. ‘Don’t mind. Words don’t break bones. I’s all right.’

  And Mrs. Rouse, who had shown signs of following Maisie, sat down on the bench.

  ‘Mr. Haynes, God is too good. Pray to Him and He will never desert you. Mr. Haynes, today is Thursday. Saturday gone I get a letter. Look, if you knew my distress when I read it.’

  ‘Whom from?’

  ‘From that woman. Who else?’

  ‘Show Mr. Haynes the letter,’ said Miss Atwell.

  ‘No. I can’t show Mr. Haynes that,’ said Mrs. Rouse.

  ‘But why not?’ said Miss Atwell. ‘Mr. Haynes is a big man. He ain’t no little boy.

  ‘Show Mr. Haynes the letter,’ insisted Miss Atwell, who had no hesitations nor reticences whatever with anyone, and once when Haynes noticed that she was at home for a few days and unsuspectingly enquired what was wrong, embarrassed him horribly by telling him that, of course, she need not tell him what it was that kept her, but she hoped before long that the change of life, ‘you know, Mr. Haynes,’ would rid her of her difficulties.

  Mrs. Rouse took from her pocket and handed him a cheap envelope addressed to ‘Mrs. A. Rouse, 2, Minty Alley.’ Inside was a piece of foolscap paper on which Haynes read as follows:

  ‘You son of a bitch, you not ashamed. You dog, you bitch, you son of a bitch. You still encouraging the man. You think you going to take him away but he leave you. Why don’t you leave him alone. He had your latitude for eighteen years and he leave you because he don’t want you any more. You have no shame. You wouldn’t get him away no matter how you try. What an old bitch like you want with a man. Why don’t you take Aucher or Mr. Haynes. You dog.’

  Haynes handed it back without a word.

  ‘Mr. Haynes, she and the man been quarrelling since a week after they married. I hear last week he leave her for good. She hear he is coming round here so she must think he coming back to me. But I don’t want him, Mr. Haynes. I trying to make my peace with God. And then for that woman to write me this!’

  ‘But I shouldn’t have let such a childish letter worry me,’ said Haynes.

  ‘Same thing I tells her,’ said Miss Atwell.

  ‘Oh, Mr. Haynes! You not a woman. Look at the things the woman write in the letter. If you know how I feel when I get it. But, Mr. Haynes, God not sleeping.’

  She stood up and she raised her right hand in the air, with the forefinger pointing upwards.

  ‘No, Mr. Haynes, He not sleeping. I get the letter on Saturday. Sunday morning I went to church. I say: “God, the protector of the widow and the fatherless, You know I have nobody else but You. Look down on me with the eyes of pity and give me my revenge on the one who have done me this injustice.” Mr. Haynes, that was Sunday. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday – three days – and look where she is. And let Mr. Benoit look to himself. His turn coming next. Let him look to himself.’

  The nurse got bail and her case was called and adjourned. Again No. 2 was in a fever. The general expectation there was that she would get three months at least. But Haynes heard in town that she would probably be heavily fined. The charge was a serious one, but it was whispered that many of the people she had attended did not wish her to go to gaol, and strong influence would be brought to bear on her behalf.

  On the day of the case, however, Haynes was in Court. He had carefully arranged, days before, to be away from the shop that morning. Mrs. Rouse had got up at three o’clock to make the cakes, and she and Miss Atwell (who had sent an excuse of illness to her shirt factory) had gone long before him. Maisie, too, was there. Philomen hoped to get a chance to look in sometime. Aucher, sojourning at No. 2 for a while, was left in charge at home. Aucher went to the house of justice too often on business to go there for pleasure.

  When Haynes went into the court house that morning the place was crowded. He saw Miss Atwell and Philomen in the front row of spectators and wondered where Mrs. Rouse was. Maisie he did not see at once, but soon discovered her in animated conversation with a young solicitor’s clerk. At five minutes to nine – Court began at nine – those who were to be tried walked upstairs from the marshal’s room, a constable in front and one behind. Today the nurse, whose case came first, headed the procession. She came up the steps, ‘thin as a string and flat as a board’ (Miss Atwe
ll) and very pale; but she carried herself erect, and Haynes could not help admiring the courage with which she was at least beginning the day. She saw him and gave him a slight smile and an inclination of the head. Haynes had just replied when Mrs. Rouse, who had concealed herself in an alcove in the passage, suddenly jumped out. There was a little space between the policeman in front and the nurse. Mrs. Rouse moved quickly into it and barred the way of the nurse, who fell back and threw the line into disorder. Mrs. Rouse had an umbrella in her hand, but contrary to the expectation of those who were looking on she did not attempt (nor had she ever had in mind) any assault on the nurse. Blocking the nurse’s way she struck the umbrella two or three times on the concrete floor and throwing her head back she said:

  ‘Doggie! Doggie! Look bone!’

  Luckily she had no more to say. The two policemen threw her roughly out of the way. But she did not mind. She had done what she had planned to do. She went to Philomen, who had been holding her seat for her, and put on her glasses to follow the case.

  The nurse was fined fifteen pounds or three months. Mrs. Rouse, who had confidently expected and freely predicted that she could not escape gaol, was disappointed, but not too much so. Her triumph of the morning filled her heart.

  All the afternoon at No. 2 they discussed the case, saying over and over again to one another what each had seen.

  ‘You remember when he ask her …’

  ‘And you remember how she look at Benoit when he …’

  Mrs. Rouse: ‘All you notice when they ask him about the links how he look at me before he answer?’

  After supper, Mrs. Rouse, Miss Atwell and Philomen came to Haynes’s door.

  ‘We are going for a little walk on the seawall,’ said Mrs. Rouse.

  ‘To talk over things,’ said Haynes.

  ‘Yes, Mr. Haynes,’ said Mrs. Rouse. ‘I feel happy. I know that God have not deserted me.’

  ‘And this is you’ vindication before the public,’ said Miss Atwell. Philomen laughed gaily.