by Mary Lavin
But there was no next time. Lucy was hardly awake next morning when her sisters came into the room. ‘Did you hear what’s being said, Lucy?’ they cried. ‘It’s all over the town that Sam Lowndes is engaged. To Mona Hendron! It can’t be true, can it?’
Never! she thought. Never! But she wasn’t going to let herself down before them, ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’ she’d said coldly. Yet she sprang out of bed, and in a few minutes she had left the house and gone uptown in the direction of the Central Hotel.
Before she got halfway, however, coming towards her, hurrying, with his head down, was Sam. ‘Oh, Lucy, I was coming down to see you,’ he’d said.
‘Is it true?’ she’d cried.
That he didn’t ask what she meant was the first sign she got that there was truth in what she’d heard. He looked frightened, too, or was he only unusually excited? ‘Is there talk, Lucy?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Talk! It’s all over the town that you’re engaged to Mona Hendron,’ she said, blurting it out.
What did she expect? Certainly not what he’d said.
‘She was right so. I thought she was only having me on. I was going to come back and tell you last night, only it was very late. You see, Lucy, it was after I left you it happened.’ He looked away. ‘Isn’t it strange how things do happen,’ he’d said dazedly. ‘It was because I thought I saw you looking at my collar, and I knew it was frayed, so I went in to Simmons’ drapery to buy a new one before the shop closed. And to think I never bought it!’ He’d put up his hand to the collar, which indeed was very frayed, and soiled as well. ‘She was there inside the counter.’ He gulped. ‘Mona,’ he said. ‘She was showing something to a young one that was buying ribbon. They were laughing. Then, when the young one went out, Mona came over to serve me. ‘Did you ever see one of these, Sam?’ she said, and she had a card in her hand. It was a card cut in the shape of a hand, and it had nine or ten round holes in it. Each hole had a number. A ring card, she called it. Did you ever see one, Lucy?’
‘Of course I did,’ she snapped. ‘For taking the measure of a girl’s ring finger!’
‘That’s right,’ he’d seemed surprised that she knew. ‘I never saw one till then. That’s why I took it up in my hand.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s where I made my mistake. I see now it was stupid of me, but I held it out and asked her to show me how it worked. She started to put her finger into the little holes, one after the other, till she came to the one that was right for her. “That’s my fit now,” she said, and she laughed and held up her finger with the card dangling from it.’
When he came to this point of his story, Sam had been overcome. ‘Oh, Lucy, wasn’t I unfortunate!’ he’d cried. ‘At that minute, the door opened and two young women came into the shop. I only knew them by sight, but Mona knew them well. One was the manageress of the Railway Hotel. It appears that two worse gossips you couldn’t have found. “They’ll have it all over the town we’re engaged, Sam,” said Mona when they went out.’
‘You didn’t believe her?’
‘Well, I did and I didn’t,’ he’d said miserably. ‘She was very upset. She began to cry.’
A tremendous relief had come over Lucy. She began to laugh.
But Sam didn’t laugh. ‘Oh, it’s not funny, Lucy,’ he said. ‘She could be compromised. She said those wouldn’t rest till they’d spread the story all over the town.’
‘Ah, for heaven’s sake!’ she’d cried impatiently. ‘Who’d believe a story like that?’
‘Didn’t you believe it, Lucy?’ he’d said dolefully. ‘And if you did, what can we expect from other people? I’m afraid I’ve put myself in a very tight corner,’ he said, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his forehead.
She’d stared at him. ‘You don’t mean to say you’d contemplate—?’ But she couldn’t trust herself to utter the word ‘marriage’. ‘That you’d contemplate going ahead with this nonsense?’
For a minute he said nothing. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything dishonourable, Lucy,’ he said.
‘Nonsense Sam. Everybody knows you are a man of honour.’ It had been on the point of her tongue to add that everyone knew it was with her he was in love. But she swallowed the words. ‘If you ask me,’ she said, ‘it looks as if she was out from the start to catch you.’
‘Oh, hush, hush, Lucy,’ he said. ‘She didn’t think anyone would come into the shop. It was nearly closing time. I didn’t bother to buy the shirt. Instead I said I’d give her a hand with putting up the shutters. She has too much to do in that shop, I often thought that. And she’s not very strong, either, I’d say.’
‘Well, she doesn’t look delicate to me!’ Lucy’d cried. Was he in the habit of helping with those shutters, she wondered.
But Sam was scrupulously considering her remark. ‘Oh, I don’t mean she’s delicate,’ he said. ‘Just not strong.’
There was a long pause. ‘Ah, well, what does that matter, one way or another, to you, I mean?’ she said at last, in a low voice.
‘Oh, it could matter a lot,’ he said meditatively, ‘later on.’
To her utter amazement, she realised that he was thinking of marriage. ‘Well, it seems she has no fears for herself in that respect if she’s so determined to get a man,’ she said vindictively.
‘Oh, don’t be hard, Lucy,’ he said. ‘After all, it’s a natural instinct in a woman. And there’s another thing. I think maybe she’s had a soft spot for me for a long time past.’
‘And that would excuse her, I suppose?’
This time, he didn’t notice the bitterness. ‘She’s a very decent girl,’ he added quickly. ‘A man could do worse.’
In the face of that, how could she have said anything other than she did. ‘Good luck to her so!’ she said. ‘And you, too! I wish you joy of each other.’ And she’d turned on her heel and gone into the house.
‘Well!’ said Louise and Bay, who had seen them through the gable window and come rushing to meet her.
‘It’s true,’ she’d said. ‘He’s just told me.’
And so, in a way, it was she who had put the seal on their engagement. What was more, for all her high spirits and her shining looks, from that moment she took a back seat in life. The strange thing was, though, that on the day Mona died it seemed that she’d been given back, in an instant, her lost role. She was once more what she had been, a romantic figure, tantalising, unpredictable. And now, with her nieces and nephews growing up around, she had a larger audience than ever. Clearly, this renewal of her affair with Sam had them all on tenterhooks.
‘You wouldn’t think of marrying him, Lucy?’ her sisters cried in consternation.
They didn’t seem to give a thought to her age. Not even the nieces and nephews. It was of Sam they were doubtful. ‘He must be an old fellow by now, Aunt Lucy,’ they said.
‘He’s the same age as me,’ she said dryly.
‘But when did you see him last?’ they persisted.
‘Not for years,’ she admitted, and she laughed. ‘He may be bald for all I know.’ She was determined to take everything in good part. ‘Would you like to see a picture of him?’ she asked, remembering an old faded photo that had been taken on an outing of the Temperance Society. They were all in it, herself, and Louise, and Bay, and several others, of course, too, and, in the middle of them, Sam. She hadn’t looked at it for years. ‘How young we all were!’ she exclaimed, glancing at it before showing it to them.
But the young people were looking at the clothes, not at the faces. The clothes looked a million years old. ‘Which is Sam?’ they asked.
‘In the middle.’ She pointed to him.
They looked closer. ‘Oh, Aunt Lucy, I thought you were joking. He is bald.’
That annoyed her a bit. ‘How could he be bald then? He was very young at the time.’
‘His hair must h
ave been awfully fine, if so,’ one of them said, peering.
‘It was very, very fine,’ she said, trying to be patient. ‘It was as soft as a child’s.’
‘Oh, Aunt Lucy, you’re blushing,’ they squealed. ‘Aunt Lucy’s blushing.’
It would have been just like the old days, the teasing and the innuendoes, if Louise hadn’t damped them down. ‘I must say this conversation is in very bad taste,’ she said. ‘His wife is only a week dead.’
Involuntarily, Lucy corrected her. ‘Two weeks,’ she said.
The young people giggled.
Louise glared. ‘Don’t tell me you are counting the days!’ she said.
It was only then Lucy realised that it wasn’t at all the same as in the old days. Of course, her family didn’t know the full story. They didn’t know how Sam had been tricked into that first marriage. She’d never told a living soul. She was just about to tell them then when it occurred to her that it would be a betrayal of him. Already, her loyalties had begun to engage her less to them than to him.
If anything were to crop up again between Sam and herself, it would hardly suit Louise and Bay. Better for them to have her there, where she always was, in the old home. The house was hers, of course, by her mother’s will, as the sole surviving single one of the family, so it would go to them when she died. But what was it worth? Nothing. Riddled with woodworm and flaking with dry rot, it wouldn’t fetch a penny if it were to be sold. On the other hand, the site might well become very valuable in time to come. At some future date, they or their children might benefit from what she now had to preserve at such cost. Only for her, it would have fallen down long ago. It wasn’t just the upkeep and maintenance but she’d paid the rates and taxes as well. And meanwhile they came and went as they pleased. Bay and Louise ran in and out as if they’d never left home. To observe the formalities never occurred to them. It was the same with the rest. Even the ones that had left the town came back occasionally for their holidays, or spend a weekend. And as for their children! It has been a regular holiday home for those children: so safe, and free of charge. And when they grew up, the children, too, made their own of the house. Such an excellent place to study, quiet, dull. Such an excellent place to recuperate after an illness or an operation. A regular nursing-home, that’s what it was on occasion, somewhere to put up their feet, with someone to dance attendance upon them. Selfish to the core, every one of them. But she’d never really seen this clearly until the matter of Sam arose. What she found contemptible was that they should begin their campaign against him so far in advance of events. For although she, too, thought it likely that Sam might come back to her, it did not cross her mind that he would make a move until Mona was a year dead, or until the year was nearly out.
But one night two weeks later, when there was a knock on her door, she knew it was him. She had the house to herself for once. Not that that made much difference, it might as well have had walls of glass from the way Louise and Bay knew all that went on in it. Indeed, within five minutes of his stepping off the train they knew about it. And, he had no sooner stepped out again to catch the train back, than the lot of them were down on top of her. Had they no shame?
That, however, was what they were saying about her. ‘No shame, no shame at all,’ they intoned as they came in the door.
‘What are you talking about?’ she cried. ‘What more natural than that he would turn to us in his bereavement?’
‘To us? To you! He had to pass my house to come here,’ said Louise.
‘And mine!’ cried Bay.
‘What did he have to say, anyway?’ they demanded.
For a minute, she didn’t answer. Instead, she walked over to the mirror and stared into it. Aware of them huddled behind her, she stared into the glass. Well, she had more looks left than either of them could lay claim to ever have had at all. With this knowledge, she felt her old power over them returning. And she remembered something. In the old days, they never knew what to make of her, that was what used to drive them mad, and she could still do it. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ she said.
‘You might have spared a thought for us,’ they said, ‘and not set the town by the ears.’
‘You’d think it was me went up to Dublin to see him,’ she said.
‘That wouldn’t have been as bad,’ Louise and Bay were beside themselves. ‘He could have written and arranged to meet you somewhere, and not make a laughing-stock of us all.’
One of the children had to intervene. ‘Anyone would think he’d popped the question. He was only feeling his way, isn’t that right, Aunt Lucy?’
If they only knew! For when she’d opened the door to him, his first words were an apology, not for his haste but his tardiness. ‘This was the earliest I could come down, Lucy,’ he’d said as he stepped inside, and her timid expression of sympathy was immediately absorbed into his own exclamations, as he took off his coat and hat and laid them on top of the piano. ‘A terrible thing, death! A terrible thing, Lucy,’ he said. ‘It leaves the living half dead, too. I was sick, actually sick, would you believe that, on the day she was taken to the chapel, let alone on the day of the funeral. The confusion! You’ve no idea what it was like. We had a good maid, fortunately, a very decent girl, too; she couldn’t have felt it more if she was one of the family, but that only made matters worse, because whenever she came across something belonging to Mona she started to scream and cry. She hasn’t got over it yet, indeed. She misses her a great deal, because although she’s a great worker, she’s lost without someone to tell her what to do. Too slow! no method! Do you know what time I got my lunch today? Three o’clock. It’s a wonder I caught the train this evening. I’ve been trying to get down all week.’ The ease and familiarity with which he ran on was amazing. There was no constraint between them. ‘You’re looking well, Lucy,’ he said practically, as he sat down. And then, without putting a tooth in it, he gave his reason for coming. ‘I’m not going to let you slip a second time, you know.’
It seemed only proper to pretend she didn’t understand, but he caught her eye, and she felt her face redden.
He looked at her fondly. ‘We can’t afford to misunderstand one another again, Lucy. We haven’t the whole of life before us, now, that we can be prodigal of it.’
It was so true she was disarmed. ‘All the same,’ she murmured. ‘It’s very soon to talk about it.’
He stood up and moved nearer to her. ‘What’s the difference between talking about it and thinking about it?’ he said softly. ‘You never ceased to have your niche in my heart, Lucy. You must know that. I never pretended otherwise to anyone. And what more natural than that my thoughts would turn to you, run to you, when I was free again. To whom else would I turn? Aren’t you nearer to me now than any living soul?’
It was what she felt herself, and yet she was troubled by feelings of sadness and regret. ‘Oh, Sam, if we could be young again.’
But he shook his head. ‘This was the way it was ordained,’ he said, and somehow instantly the words, though trite, put everything into perspective. The years between past and present were reduced to scale at last, and his marriage to Mona put in its proper place, a mere incident in his romance with herself. ‘Oh, Lucy. Oh, Lucy,’ he said. ‘We need happiness more now than we needed it when we were young.’
That was true, too. So true.
‘Be kind to me Lucy,’ he said, almost in a whisper. ‘I need kindness badly.’
‘Oh, Sam,’ she said tenderly, as if it was her heart and not her voice that spoke.
‘It’s yes?’ he cried, and he took her hand in a clasp that was gentle but experienced, and she felt that any effort to withdraw it would be hopelessly inadequate. He sensed her reluctance, though. ‘Still afraid to take the plunge, dear?’ he said softly. ‘There’s nothing to be timid about. I’m an old hand at the game now, and even if I do say it myself, if I made one woma
n happy, I don’t see why I shouldn’t do the same again. Well?’ he said.
Lucy’s head reeled. She had to gain time. ‘I never offered you any refreshment after your journey, Sam,’ she said, making a move towards the door. ‘You’ll have a cup of tea, or something?’
With one hand he still detained her, but with the other he managed to pull out his watch. It was the same old-fashioned turnip type he’d always had. ‘I won’t have time,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to be leaving for the station in a few minutes. Next time, I’ll try and get down earlier. I had only one purpose on this occasion. Quickly! Tell me, Lucy! Are you going to make me a happy man?’
‘But you say you’ll come down again, Sam. Can’t we talk about it the next time?’
His big silver timepiece might be the same, but Sam himself had changed. His watch and his mouth clicked shut with the same finality. ‘I’m not asking you to name the day,’ he said. ‘Only to give me your promise.’
Since she still presumed there wouldn’t be any question of marrying until the year was out, she might have agreed there and then were it not for a silly scruple. If she gave her promise, might he not think fit to kiss her? And would that be seemly?
But he’d whipped out his watch again. ‘Let me decide for us both,’ he said. ‘There’s no time to be lost.’ And then, as she thought he would, he leaned forward and kissed her. It was, however, the quickest of kisses. It wouldn’t disturb a mouse. ‘It’s settled,’ he said, and he snatched up his hat. ‘I must make tracks.’
Well! After he’d gone, she leaned back against the hall stand, and her impulse was to giggle like a girl, not knowing that her sisters were already on their way down the street, about to break in on her with their strictures.
Not that she heeded them. On the contrary, their concern for themselves was so great it had made any concern for them on her part utterly superfluous. She need consider only herself and, of course, Sam, as on his next visit she told him. ‘I don’t mind what the family say, Sam. It’s not of them I’m thinking. After all, they cannot say much if we wait till the year is out.’ As Sam seemed about to interrupt her, she put up her hand. She had other scruples. ‘Wait a minute, Sam,’ she said. ‘Let me explain. I’m not upset by what anyone might say.’ She hesitated when it came to the point, she just couldn’t tell him.
