The Secret Journey

by James Hanley

  ‘Yes. I know! You’re going to ask me why I suddenly kept him here. Why I actually put him in the very place your father ran away from. Just like some convict who runs away from jail. Well, you think it over, Anthony my boy. Your father doesn’t care a fig, and that’s the God’s truth. To ask me why he went off like that is quite silly, for I believe you well know why he went.’

  ‘Yes! Because of Peter.’

  ‘Oh no! Not at all! They all said that. It’s quite wrong. Your father always wanted to go back to sea. Peter was a good excuse. Your father’s cleverer than I thought he was—pity he didn’t put it to better use.’

  ‘Please! Mother! Don’t let’s get on to the whole grindstone. Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to hear any more about those things? I’m home now after a stiff voyage, and listen—d’you know all I’m thinking of at the moment? Just to show you that sailors don’t care’—he began to laugh—‘I’m thinking of that scrap between Roberts and Exham on Saturday. That’s where I’m going.’ He caught his mother by the arm and pulled her towards the sofa. ‘Forget everything,’ he said. ‘At least for to-day. We’re going to celebrate.’

  ‘Yes, I am forgetting,’ replied Mrs. Fury. ‘Look at the time, and that lad’s dinner to be cooked.’ She turned to free herself, but he held her fast.

  ‘Are you going to promise?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Oh, I’m so glad you’re home. There’s such a lot of things I want to talk about. You see, you’re the only one of the family I can trust. You are so sensible. And yet they used to call you the “Softy” of the family. Thank God you’re a man, anyway. You can walk down the street with your head in the air. And I do want you to stay now, Anthony. You see, if you’ll only stay—God! it will be like home again. I won’t feel your father’s loss so much. For I can’t count on your father. Do you think any other man but himself would have dashed off to sea at his age? No! He’s harum-scarum—come day, go day. He doesn’t care. Your father’s been good, too. He’s worked hard, and he has a good heart—but what’s a good heart, Anthony, without sense? He’ll come back, though. When he gets tired.’

  ‘There you are, Mother, off again. What did I tell you?—and keep all the talk till to-morrow.’ He watched her pull the table into the middle of the floor.

  ‘It looks funny without the chairs, Mother,’ said Anthony. ‘We ought to push the table under the window. There’s not so many of us to eat at it now.’

  ‘Yes! we might do that, son,’ she said, and then went into the back.

  ‘Aye! I can see she’s glad to have me home all right. I can see that.’ He called out to her, ‘Mother, I’m just going next door to see the Postlethwaites.’

  ‘And don’t you stop talking your nonsense there. I’ll bang on the wall. I’m so happy now,’ she said.

  ‘How is it that he can change me so easily, and yet, somehow, I even begrudge—yes, I even hate to look at Peter? Why, I believe that’s him at the back door.’ The door opened. ‘Yes, so it is. How time flies!’ Peter was coming up the yard. ‘It almost seems as if I were getting Denny’s dinner ready. Did I ever think Peter would come up the yard like that?’

  ‘Hello!’ she said as he came in. His face was black, his clothes covered with grease. ‘How did you get on?’ She caught his sleeve. ‘Are you content now, Peter? Are you happy to be going out to work just like the rest? Tell me! How did things go down there?’ Looking at his mother, Peter felt there was something she wanted to say.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘What? I got on all right. Though now I see why Dad became such an old growl. Everybody growls down there. And Postlethwaite growls the most!’

  ‘Anthony is home,’ she said. She spoke quickly, as though she were merely saying that the dinner was ready, or the kettle was boiling. She saw him start.

  ‘Anthony! Home? When did he arrive? Is he in there now?’ He shut the door.

  ‘He’s next door with the Postlethwaites. He looks well, I must say. That lad’s taken to the sea like a fish to water. And his feet are coming on grand.’ She put her arms round her son. ‘Peter, my son! Would to God you could be like him. Always smiling. Talks about his job—oh, he’s so ordinary. Why can’t you be ordinary? Have sense like him. Do try! Do try! It would make me very happy. Peter, I believe we’re all going to be happy again. Isn’t it splendid? And a letter from your father by the half-past ten post. I’m all excited this morning. I was cleaning out your grandfather’s room for Anthony, never thinking he’d drop in like that. It fair took me by surprise. I made a fool of myself. I cried like a silly child! There. Go in and take your things off. It’s just like having your father in from the job’; and, her face suffused by reassuring smiles, she went on with her work.

  ‘Fancy!’ she was thinking, ‘it’s years since they saw each other—him a baby almost, Anthony a little boy out of school. I wonder how Dad’s getting on? Well, well! Denny is feeling very pleased with himself I must say.’ The thoughts flooded in, they became confused, she surrendered to a feeling of complete abandon. It was as though some weight which she had carried on her back for so long had suddenly fallen off. She felt as light as air. Never had she felt so confident, so pleased—how long, indeed, since she had felt so pleased, had looked forward with such hope to the future? ‘I know I shall never leave this place. Yes, I know it. But I can be happy in it. I must stop fretting. I’ll simply forget all that’s past, as Anthony says. Bless the lad—he makes me feel younger.’

  Peter was already seated and waiting for his dinner. Mrs. Fury came in and knocked on the wall. ‘All right.’ She could hear Anthony’s shout through the wall. Then he came in. He stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked at his brother. There was one thing certain—he did not know him. No recognition. This was a man.

  Peter Fury got up, wiped his hand on his trousers and went up to Anthony. ‘Hello, Anny,’ he said, ‘how are you? I am so glad to see you after all this time.’ Yes, it was really the same brother. That ‘Hello, Anny’ had cleared the horizon. Yes. It was really the same brother.

  ‘If I’d met you in the street I wouldn’t have recognized you,’ said Anthony. ‘You’re not like any of us, somehow! But there! Dinner all set, Mother?’

  ‘Yes. Sit down on the sofa here, next to me. I’ve made a meal you always liked. You all liked boiled bacon and cabbage and good strong mustard.’ They all began dinner. Time and again she looked up slyly and watched them.

  ‘Swallowed the anchor, I see,’ remarked Anthony between mouthfuls of cabbage.

  ‘Aye,’ said Peter. He glanced across at his mother as if to say, ‘You hauled up the anchor. Yes! But I don’t know whether you haven’t won, anyhow. You’ve had your own way every time.’ He looked at Anthony. ‘Yes, and I rather liked it.’

  ‘Working now?’

  ‘Of course! Don’t I look like it? D’you suppose you’re the only person in the world who works?’ He dug at his bacon, and covered it with mustard.

  ‘Now, please! You children! Please! On this day. Don’t be saying such things to each other.’

  ‘Listen to Mother,’ said Anthony. ‘She can’t distinguish between a——’

  ‘Get on with your dinner,’ she said. ‘Well, don’t you think Peter has beaten the lot of you in growing? He’s taller than me, and head and shoulders over his father.’

  Peter Fury pushed away his plate and rose. ‘An hour, and it seems like five minutes. Ten minutes’ walk home, ten for washing, and——’

  ‘Your father was sensible. He sat down as he came in. Perhaps, Anthony, you might like to go as far as the shed with Peter. If you don’t want to—then don’t. Perhaps you’d just like to lie down.’

  ‘No! I’ll go as far as the bottom of the street,’ he replied.

  ‘That’s good. You want to get to know each other. You’re like two strangers. How long since you saw each other? Eight years. Fancy, that makes one feel quite old: I wouldn’t be long, child—your feet. They want all the rest they can get.’

  ‘They get it,’ replied A
nthony, laughing, and slapping his brother on the back. ‘I stand two hours at a time at the wheel. That’s rest enough. Come on,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s your cap?’ he asked Peter.

  ‘Never wear one! Don’t believe in them, anyhow. You ready? It’s a rush. Perhaps you’d better lie down as Mother suggests. In any case, I’m home at five.’

  Anthony looked at his mother. ‘I’m going out with Possie at five,’ he said.

  ‘But Peter can go wherever you go, can’t he?’ asked Mrs. Fury.

  ‘Of course. Who said otherwise? Come on! Mother’s getting steam up,’ he said.

  Laughing together, the brothers went out. Mrs. Fury stood watching them go down the yard. ‘Just like two strangers. Don’t know each other at all. I think Peter’s only too anxious to be friendly. Well, he might do worse. His brother’s a decent enough lad, and since his other mates at the chapel refuse to have anything to do with him, he ought to be jolly pleased. But is he? God knows. One tries to do everything for one’s children. Even find their friends. But they have their own way in the end. They find their own. That lad is a mystery to me. I’d give a fortune to know what they’re talking about.’ She began cleaning away the dinner things. ‘What shocks one gets!’ she was thinking. ‘One has to be continually on guard.’

  The two brothers were standing at the bottom of Hatfields, Occasionally a passing neighbour waved his hand to Anthony. That was the lad who had the accident. The other one was he who always went out the back way when it was dark. Yes. Nobody had seen him in broad daylight. But Anthony was different, of course; they nodded to him, ‘Good-day, home again?’ to which he replied, ‘Hello, Mister, how are you?’ Then he turned to his brother. ‘We must have a talk over things this evening. You know I had a long letter from Mother. She’s got some funny ideas lately, don’t you think so?’ he said, laughing. ‘She wants me to stop at home. I mean, to work ashore. Easier said than done. What good would I be working ashore? Besides, I don’t want to. I’m quite happy where I am. But tell me, why did you give it up? When Dad wrote me he said you were delighted with the job. And now you’ve chucked it all up. But why? Look here, Peter, all the things Mother says aren’t sensible ones. Don’t you think it’s unfair to be taken away from your job, especially if you are happy there? You see, I’ve been at sea since I left school, and now she wants me to give it all up. What d’you think about it?’ He kept looking at his brother’s soft hands.

  ‘At first I thought what you are thinking now. Father’s to blame for this. Didn’t he clear off once before, before we were born? Desmond was the bread-winner then. And yet—yet—you know, Mother does feel lonely. You see, Anthony, that’s why I swallowed the anchor. She looked so sad, so miserable. You’re like Dad, you see so little of what goes on here. Besides——’

  ‘And what does go on?’ asked Anthony, fixing his eyes upon his brother. ‘What does go on? Why has the old chap been packed off so suddenly? Was that Mother or was it Aunt B.?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s their business. Mother daren’t tell me everything she’s going to do. I’m going to be pretty straight with you, brother Anthony. You were right, quite right. I’m not made for any priesthood. All right. I got out of it. But what happened? I felt absolutely lost. And all the fine friends turned away. I don’t speak to anybody now—go to another chapel—so does Mother. She’s ashamed too, you see! You understand how awkward my position was? It couldn’t have been worse. I jumped at the idea of going to sea. Jumped at it. I was glad to get away from home. Glad to get away from all those staring neighbours—but most of all to get away from the house. It might make you laugh, but it’s a fact—I’m scared of Mother! I’m different from you—different from everybody. She smothered me in affection. All to get her own way. And now she’s done it again. Instead of saying, “No, I’m off,” I said nothing. I gave in! She bent me again! But really she is lonely. It’s one of Mother’s great pleasures just having us at home—she thinks everything of the home. Can you blame her? I can’t. I can see things better now. And all the women in Hatfields must be the same as her. It’s their world, they live there—it’s everything. But haven’t you noticed how she’s changed? One time she used to rule everybody—the house—even Father. She doesn’t do that now. She almost kneels down to you, bows and cringes. Well, I’m on something else. How long I’ll be at it is another thing. I suppose I’ll be chopping and changing about until I find what I like. Now, somehow, I don’t care very much. I don’t want to be anything. I even envy you who hasn’t had his brain turned soft by the stuff I’ve had to swallow! But I kept vomiting it all up. My head’s getting clearer now. Hell! I wish I was like you. But I’m not. I’m dissatisfied. I hate living in Hatfields. Mother doesn’t, I’m certain of it. I even believe she likes it.’

  ‘Is that a nice thing to say?’ said Anthony. ‘Is it? D’you think Mother’s content just stuck in that bloody old house?’

  ‘She’ll always be there, Anthony! Always. Nothing we could do would make her go. She’s rooted there. Anyhow, it’s hardly worth while making a break at her age. All she wants now is to see us going off to work and coming home—getting our meals, washing our clothes, feeding us, seeing we go to chapel! That’s all. Very simple, isn’t it? And this will go on till she dies. She doesn’t seem to miss Dad, and maybe he’s not worrying overmuch. He never did if I know anything. The home’s broken up, it won’t ever be the same again, but Mother thinks it will. She’s crazy. Quite crazy.’

  ‘I know, of course,’ said Anthony, ‘that being at sea is a good thing. I can see what it’s going to be like if I stay ashore.’

  ‘She’s certain you will. She’s hanging on to that idea. And if you do, if we’re both here—then she won’t care much whether Dad returns or not.’

  ‘Aye!’ said Anthony, spreading out his legs, and digging his hands into his pockets. ‘Mother thinks one thing, but I think another. I don’t think I’ll agree to that. Well, there’s your whistle. You’d better be off. See you this evening. So-long.’ And smiling he turned away. ‘Peter,’ he shouted—and he ran back to him. He shook hands, saying, ‘I am glad to see you again,’ and he felt Peter’s fingers tighten round his own.

  ‘And I’m pleased to meet you,’ he said. Then they parted, Peter back to his work, Anthony on to Price Street to see his sister.

  ‘What a size that fellow is! Desmond’s nowhere with him. I think he’s clever too. Well! blast it, I have nothing against that,’ and he immediately forgot Peter, and gave his mind solely to the thoughts of the welcome he would receive at Price Street from Joe and Dermod and Maureen. He found his sister cleaning the parlour window. Mr. Kilkey was at work. Dermod sprawled and talked to himself upon the mat in front of the fire.

  ‘Hello there!’ Anthony said, and caught his sister round the waist. He lifted her down. ‘Hello, Maury! Busy as usual. How are you?’ They kissed each other.

  ‘Anthony! Well! When did you arrive? How are you? Are your feet mending?’

  ‘Yes. They’re feeling very well at the moment. Hey, there!’ He picked up the child, sat down and went on talking to his sister. ‘How clean you keep the place. Has Joe given you a medal yet? You deserve one! Our place used to shine once upon a time, but that was before you became a family.’

  ‘Mother’s getting old, and she doesn’t seem to care either,’ remarked Maureen. ‘But tell me about yourself. One can hardly keep Mother out of any conversation. Are you happy? Still in the wheel-house? When are you sailing?’

  ‘Eight days’ time,’ said Anthony. ‘Time flies away. Here to-day, gone to-morrow. And how’s this little man?’ he said, lifting the child over his head.

  ‘He’s a demon, that’s what he is.’

  ‘And you! How’s things with you?’ he asked. ‘You look a bit under the weather.’

  ‘Do I?’ she remarked, laughing. ‘Did you see the other fellow?’ she asked.

  ‘The other fellow?’ Anthony put Dermod on the mat. ‘The other fellow?’

  ‘P
eter.’

  ‘Oh! I didn’t know who you meant,’ he replied. ‘The other fellow. Oh! I see! Yes, I met him. Six-footer. Quite six. I like him too. He’s lost that babyish way he used to have. Remember him at school. I got quite a surprise. I thought he was on the briny by this time.’

  ‘Let me give you a piece of good advice, Anthony,’ said Maureen, leaning against her brother’s shoulder and looking up into his face, watching his greenish-grey eyes, that seemed to be changing colour. ‘It’s this! I believe Mother was secretly glad to see the back of Dad! But don’t say anything, for heaven’s sake. I even believe she hoped he’d go all the while. Now she’ll want you. She’ll ask you to stay at home. She’s going to have her children round her skirts, at whatever cost. But don’t you do it. Don’t you do it, Anthony. Ever since the other fellow went to college Mother has been just like a lunatic. She’s up to her eyes in all kinds of debt, and if you stay and work ashore—as I believe she wants you to do—you’ll have a rotten time. You stick by your ship. Anyway, what could you do ashore? At least at sea you’ll have quiet, and be able to turn into your bunk, and rest your feet, but round there you can’t get a chance to rest anything. From the first day you stay at home she’ll begin. She’ll drag out all her old ghosts. What a life she’s had. What she has to do. The devil Father was, and how indifferent Aunt Brigid is. H’m! Aunt Brigid is a wise woman. She knows how to keep out of it all. And she never comes to Gelton unless she’s going to get something from it.’

  ‘Yes,’ remarked Anthony. ‘Maybe that’s why she shunted Grand-dad off with her! Mother must be quick to think. Fancy not being able to see through that fat old blighter. I’m surprised.’

  ‘Don’t be! and don’t waste your breath! Mother’s got into a way of completely shutting her eyes to everything that she doesn’t want to see. She doesn’t care. Can you think of Mother saying that she was glad to let the old man go? That she had grown to hate him. She did, so there! The things she’s said lately! Peter is nearer than we are. He said she was getting a bit light in the head.’