by Stan Barstow
‘Aren’t you sweltering in that overcoat?’ she asked suddenly, when neither of them had spoken for a time.
Jordan realised how long his silence had been and that this might have brought on the nervous energy of her movements.
‘I must go,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken up too much of your time.’
‘You’re not spoiling anything. But I wondered why you’d turned so broody.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jordan said, ‘but I –’
‘I’ve never heard anybody apologise so much. What d’you think you’ve done?’
‘Made you slightly uneasy, perhaps. I don’t know you well enough to go quiet in your company like that.’
‘Be my guest,’ she said. ‘Was it something important?’
‘Yes,’ Jordan heard himself admitting, and knew that he must now carry the thought through. ‘I was just weighing the pros and cons of –’
‘The what?’
He was thrown for a moment. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s me that doesn’t understand you. The pros and...what did you say?’
‘Things for, things against,’ Jordan said.
‘For and against what?’
‘Asking you to come and be my housekeeper.’
It silenced her. She looked quickly at him and just as quickly away. A small smile touched her lips – whether of amusement, embarrassment or gratification he could not tell.
‘If you’ll just let me explain,’ he went on.
‘I think you’d better.’
Jordan was struck by the panicky thought that the step-brother might return before he could say it all.
‘The house needs a woman in it,’ he said. ‘I mean, more than you can give it by just coming in twice a week. And I’m tired of cooking for myself. If it comes to that, I don’t like living on my own there, either. There’s plenty of room. You could easily –’
‘You are talking about living in, then?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jordan said. It was not, in fact, what he’d immediately had in mind, but the idea had grown as he was talking. ‘You could have your own, er, quarters. I could easily make one of the upstairs rooms into a bedsitter. But other than that you’d have the run of the place and be perfectly free to do what you liked with your spare time. You could carry on working in the evenings if you felt you needed the change and the company. You might think that what I could offer you wasn’t a full wage. I’m sure we could work something out, though, and you would have a comfortable home and all found.’
‘Wait a minute,’ she said as he stopped talking. ‘Hold on a tick. This is all a bit fast for me. It wants some thinking about.’
‘You don’t have to decide now.’
She had clenched the fingers of one hand and was pushing the fist deep into her abdomen. The sudden pallor of her face perturbed Jordan.
‘Is there anything I can get you, Mrs Nugent?’
‘It’ll go,’ she said. ‘That’s the only good thing about it.’
Jordan got up. ‘We’ll talk about it another time, when you can put your mind to it.’
‘You’re a fast worker, I’ll say that for you.’
‘Please,’ Jordan said, ‘don’t get me wrong.’
‘I mean, you know next to nothing about me.’
‘Nor you me, if it comes to that.’
‘Haven’t you thought what a risk you’d be taking?’
He had. Yet he also knew that a desire to do something for this woman had been growing in him ever since she had first smiled at him, in the Beehive. Why, if she would only let him, he could transform her life: he could take her out of this squalor, put her into decent clothes, give her a security that picking up part-time work where she could had never offered her. He would become her benefactor, friend, protector. Gradually, she would learn that she had someone of substance to turn to.
He held in his excitement at the prospect and curbed the urge to press his offer now, though the spasm of pain seemed to have left her as she drew herself upright, arching her back and taking a deep breath which she let out in a long sigh.
‘What if it didn’t work out?’ she said. ‘Where would I go then?’
‘Why not come for a week or two first?’ Jordan suggested. ‘Keep this place on in the meantime. Let your step-brother look after it.’
‘When would you want to know?’
‘There’s no hurry,’ Jordan said. ‘Don’t bother about it now. Think it over when you’re well again.’
On his way home Jordan was stopped by the police, who had put a barrier across the suburban road he had chosen on no more than a whim. They did not tell him what they were looking for, only that they were on a routine check, before they asked him who he was, where he lived, where he had been and how long he had been away from home. Then they requested permission to shine their torches over the interior of his car and to examine the contents of the boot.
Jordan guessed what had happened and the local news on his alarm-radio woke him next morning with the details. A girl had been done to death only two hundred yards from a busy main road. It seemed that she had been found more quickly than some of the others and that she must have died while he was talking to Mrs Nugent. There were no details of how the killing had been carried out, but there were the usual hints of appalling savagery. Women were once again warned not to go out alone after dark: the attacks were no longer confined to one type of woman and all women should now consider themselves at risk.
During the next few days he found himself fretting about Audrey Nugent’s safety. True, she had her step-brother at hand, but Jordan did not know how responsible he was; and Mrs Nugent herself, though sometimes anxious, was unlikely to let her movements be restricted.
He wanted to go and see her again, to reassure himself and to warn her. But he dared not seem to be pestering. It was best that she be left to get used gradually to the idea he had planted. So he spent a restless weekend that only hardened the conviction that he was planning the right course for him, and contented himself by leaving a note for her on the Tuesday morning, which did not refer to his offer, but merely said, ‘Do please take care when you are out.’
He returned from the works in the early evening and let himself into the house, his pulse suddenly racing as he saw the light in the kitchen and knew she was still there. He made no effort to keep the pleasure out of his voice as she came out to meet him.
‘Hullo! Have you been here all day?’
‘I came after dinner. Thought I’d stop on a bit.’
‘I am glad. You’ve no idea how good it is to come home and find someone in the house.’
‘Have you never lived on your own before?’
‘As a young man, yes. I lived in a flat for a while. But that was different.’
‘I expect you still miss your wife.’
He said, ‘I miss her not being here. We were married for a long time. You get used to things. Even things you don’t especially care for at the time.’
She frowned a little, turning that over, until she realised that he was frowning too as he looked at her, or at the clothes she was wearing under her pinafore: a skirt and fawn jumper, sleeves pushed to the elbow, that he vaguely recognised.
‘I found something else that fitted me. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Didn’t I tell you? I couldn’t quite bring them to mind. There were some things she stopped wearing when she put on a bit of weight. As long as you don’t find them too conservative.’
‘Conservative?’
‘Plain. A bit dull.’
‘Oh, I sometimes think I’m a bit too tempted by bright colours, myself. I like folk to see me coming.’
‘You must trust your own taste in things.’
‘All the same, you could mebbe pull me
up when you think I’m going too far.’
Jordan was delighted. ‘Would you let me do that? Wouldn’t you mind? Really?’
‘You’re a gentleman. You don’t want a housekeeper who looks like – well, a barmaid from the Royal Oak.’
He could hardly believe what she was saying. ‘Does that mean you’re coming? Have you made up your mind?’
‘You said something about giving it is a try. Me bag’s upstairs. I thought I’d stop for a day or two and see how it works out.’
At the end of each working day, Jordan sat for a few minutes after clearing his desk and basked in the pleasure of knowing she would be there when he got home. They would have a glass of sherry then, his the fino, hers something rather sweeter, and discuss their evening meal. She was a competent plain cook and all he had to do was unobtrusively add the spices and herbs whose uses she seemed unaware of. She remarked on their flavour with approval.
‘You seem to do all right by yourself. I don’t know what you need me for.’
‘There’s a difference between helping and doing it all the time.’
‘I was wondering about your shopping.’ They had so far used food from his freezer.
‘Do you want to do it?’
‘If you tell me what to get and how much to spend. You’ll have to see to the fancier things yourself.’
‘Perhaps we could do it together to start with.’
‘If you like.’
‘When, though? When could we fit it in?’
‘What about Saturday morning?’
‘That’s all right by me, but –’
‘You don’t work then, do you, or go playing golf?’
Jordan laughed. ‘Whatever made you think about golf?’
‘I just thought you might play.’
‘I did try it once,’ Jordan said, ‘but I couldn’t take to it. No, Saturday’s all right, but what about your weekend?’
‘What about it?’
‘Do you mean you’re staying over?’
‘If you want me to.’
‘What about your job at the pub?’
‘I told ’em I was going away for a few days. I’ll mebbe pack it in altogether if things turn out right here.’
‘I hope they will.’
‘You’re satisfied with it so far?’
‘So far,’ Jordan said, smiling.
His greatest fear was that, alone all day, she would become bored and begin to pine for the old life: the lights, the noise of crowded places, the kind of company she had been used to.
‘You mustn’t think you’ve got to stay in all the time,’ he told her. ‘Just be careful not to be alone on the streets after dark.’
‘I’m all right,’ she said, ‘for now. I’m enjoying the change.’
She liked to bathe before she went to bed; he, in the morning. He wondered how often she had bathed before and suspected that it was not every day. But now each evening she made the most of the privacy of the bathroom, the huge soft unused towels he had got out for her and the abundant hot water. Going in after her, he would brush his teeth standing in the humid scent of bath oil and talcum powder and think of her long slim body lying in one of the two single beds in the guest room she had chosen to sleep in. Each morning, as his radio switched on, she brought him a cup of tea and quietly informed him that breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes. He had not asked for this and was startled by her first appearance at his bedside in the plum-coloured housecoat he had seen her in before, though she performed the service in the same matter-of-fact way in which she had put her hand to his forehead when he was not well, and she was out of the room again before he had lifted himself onto his elbow. In everything it was as if she were striving to do exactly what he expected of her; in all but the smallest, most routine matters she waited for his cue. He, in turn, longed for a familiarity in which he would know instinctively how to please her, while savouring the novelty, the strangeness of her presence in the house.
On Saturday morning Jordan and Mrs Nugent moved slowly along the aisles of the best of the nearby supermarkets, he choosing articles from the shelves while she pushed the trolley beside him. His wife had loathed supermarkets and had patronised a number of local shops, where she was known by name and could ask for precisely what she wanted, and, in some cases, have it delivered.
‘What shall we have for dinner tonight? There’s tomorrow as well, isn’t there? Are you fond of steak? Do you think as there are two of us we could run to a small joint? If there’s anything left we can eat it cold – or I can – in the week. What kind of vegetable do you like best? No, you say; I really don’t mind: brussels sprouts, cauliflower, whatever you fancy. Look, there’s some asparagus. We could have it with the steak, or perhaps as a starter. Don’t you like it? Oh, you don’t know. Well, let’s take some; I know you’ll enjoy it when you taste it. I quite like fish as a change, too. I have one or two good recipes for fish. But if we want that we shall have to go to the fishmonger down the road.’
They were nearing the checkout when the woman – a friend of his wife’s – whom he hadn’t noticed, spoke to Jordan.
‘Hullo, Robert. You’re quite a stranger. Where have you been hiding yourself?’
Mrs Nugent turned her head to look, then moved on a few discreet yards and examined a display of tableware. Jordan made polite noises.
‘How are you bearing up? Time does slip by, doesn’t it? Henry and I were only speaking about you the other day and reminding ourselves that we ought to be getting in touch. But you’re not alone, I see. I spotted you from over there, before I saw your friend. I’ve got to confess that it gave me something of a turn.’
‘Mrs Nugent helps me in the house.’
‘Oh, I see. It was the coat that did it. I caught a back view and I could have sworn it was just like one that Marjorie wore.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Perhaps I’m wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. Henry always says I’m just as likely to get hold of the wrong end of the stick as the right one. But then, he’s not to be relied on in all things. You look as though you’ll have quite spent up. I expect you like to get it all done in one fell swoop, instead of popping out for bits and pieces. That’s more a man’s way. And it was such a comfort to Marjorie’s friends to know that you could cope. “Oh, he’s quite capable, Robert,” I remember telling someone at the time. “Robert can cope.” And of course you never know just how much people prefer to be left to their thoughts at such sad times. Some people like to be taken out of themselves, others to be left alone with their memories. I did wonder, though, how long you’d be before you put the house on the market. A lovely house – a real family home – but I always thought it just a touch big even for the two of you. I know Marjorie loved it. She told me so once. “I like space to breathe and room to turn round without falling over Robert,” she said. Just her joke. You’ve still got Marjorie’s father’s snuff-boxes, I suppose? Henry was talking about them the other day too. Always admired those. Not that he could afford to buy them, even if you wanted to sell. They must be worth thousands... Yes... poor Marjorie. I do still miss her, you know. But perhaps I shouldn’t say things like that to you when you’ve learned to come to terms with it. And if you’ve got someone bobbing in and out and helping you to keep things spick and span – wasn’t Marjorie the house-proud one? – you won’t feel so entirely alone. I must say you’ve been very fortunate to find somebody. It’s so hard to find help nowadays, even with all this unemployment. Reliable help, I mean, because you can’t be too careful who you let over your doorstep. Did you find her through an agency, or... ?
‘Recommended by a friend.’
‘Oh, well, that’s ideal... That back view. It gave me quite a moment. Do give us a ring and come round some time. We rarely go out now that Henry’s retired, except for the oc
casional drive. And of course none of us goes out in the dark any more. We daren’t. Terrible, terrible. What can the police be doing not to have caught him before this?’
Jordan walked unhurriedly after Mrs Nugent, who had moved out of sight. She turned to him as he rounded the end of the shelves. ‘Silly bitch,’ he said, and for a second her face retained its thoughtful gravity before breaking into that smile which, rare as it was now, always seemed to him like the sun coming out.
‘Did you tell her who I was?’
‘Of course. What is there to hide?’
Nothing. Except his thoughts. His occasional reveries. His projections of a future for which he could see no durable shape. ‘Live each day as it comes,’ he told himself, ‘and be grateful for it. Build on whatever we’re establishing.’ She seemed content and he was happier than he had been in years: conscious of his happiness and trying not to spoil it by fearing that it would not last.
After supper, which they ate together, using the dining-room at her suggestion (and she had washed up, refusing his offer of help) he read for an hour while she watched television in another room. He wanted to join her, but as she respected his privacy so he must respect her free time. Perhaps later, if she stayed, he would hire a video recorder so that she would not be deprived of programmes by her evening chores.
At a little after eleven she looked into the room and said, ‘If you don’t want the bathroom for a while I’ll go up now.’
