‘I’m not thinking just about the actual conscription, Gerald, and you know I’m not. It’s…it’s what people will think because, knowing the position that your father held and your half-brothers do, it will be expected of you. And…and when you don’t conform, as I know you won’t’—she stressed the last words—‘you’ll be made to suffer in so many ways. People are cruel.’
Again, he laid down his knife and fork before asking her quietly, ‘What would you have me do, Mama? Deny all my principles and do something that I abhor, such as shooting a man, or whipping off his head with a sword, or stabbing him in the guts?’
He sprang up now and stopped her as she was endeavouring to rise from her chair, and pressing her down again, he said, ‘Mama, you forced me to talk of this matter, and I can’t polish my words. I know your thoughts are with me—war is abhorrent to you as it is to me—so why do you want me to ignore my principles and …?’
She twisted her body now and looked up at him, saying, ‘Don’t you see? Don’t you understand I don’t want you to suffer? And I feel you will suffer more through your opinions and open attitude than you would if you were taking up arms and, be it against all you think, making yourself fight for the cause of your country.’
He slowly moved from her and took his place at the table again, and after a moment he said quietly, ‘Mama, I don’t believe a word of it. But what I do believe is that if I were to do as you say I would lose your respect, and very likely your love. Whatever you say now you would feel deep and grievous disappointment that the one you loved most, and you have impressed this on me, could be swayed to do something that went against every fibre of his being, just because he was afraid of public opinion.’
A tap came on the door and Nancy Bellways entered carrying a tray and paused halfway up the room, saying, ‘Oh, I’m sorry m’lady; I thought you’d be through by now.’
Lydia turned to her, saying, ‘Oh, let us have it here, Nancy. We’ve wasted our mealtime in talking, but we’ll soon be through. Just leave it there; I’ll see to it.’
‘Cook left it in the basin, m’lady, and the custard’s in the tureen,’ Nancy Bellways now added, ‘in case Master Gerald was late.’ And he, nodding at her, teased, ‘You’re insinuating, Nancy, that I’m always late.’
‘Well nearly, Master Gerald, nearly.’ She was now smiling broadly at him as she added, ‘And you’ll be pleased to know we’ve reached the hundredth jar of fruit s’afternoon.’
‘You have? Marvellous! But carry on. And tell cook I love her—I love you both. I do. I do. And wait till Christmas when we take some of that lot to market; they’ll dive on them.’
As Nancy Bellways who, after giving this house forty years’ service, was afforded the liberty of what her mistress termed backchat, now said, ‘Oh well, Master Gerald, cook says she’s gona lock half that lot up in the cellar so you can’t get your hands on any of it, and that’ll see us through the winter.’
‘Oh, does she? Well you can go and tell her that I’m coming out there shortly to have a word with her. Likely box her ears into the bargain. You tell her that.’
When Nancy went from the room laughing, Lady Lydia looked hard at her son as she said, ‘You have learned a special way of dealing with staff, haven’t you?’
‘Have I? Well, perhaps it’s because I served my time as an underling with Hell and Damnation.’ He laughed.‘You know, I often think of them and the poor peasant, you know, Ronald Pearson, and wonder how he’s getting on. I’d like to go up to town one day and look in on him. And, of course, the Cramps.’
‘You liked that family, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did, Mama.’
‘You never told me you kept in touch with them; I mean, wrote to them, until you got that letter.’
‘Well, I didn’t see the need. I just wanted to let them know how I was getting on in my new business. And you know yourself, you laughed at the letter, especially the end.’ And he quoted: ‘“I hope this finds you as it does me at present, half-stripped to go into the tub when Mam gets out. Dad’s got a runny cold and has sewed himself into his vest, camphor block an’ all. That’ll take care of him for the winter.”’ He smiled at his mother now as he said, ‘And the last bit which expressed their warmth. You remember? “We’d all like to see you pop in one of these nights, Mr G.”’
Again Lady Lydia stared at her son, who was now silent and staring down at his plate, and she said in a voice that held a mixture of sadness, and yet criticism, ‘You always seem happier with that type of person. Don’t you, dear?’
He looked at her and moved his head slightly, saying, ‘It’s just that I like people who act naturally. They had nothing to hide, they weren’t playing a part: they hadn’t to keep up any social class. In fact, they were proud of what they were. And don’t think they were all ignorant slobs, as Beverly classes them. There was a bright intelligence running through the majority of them. They only needed the chance to widen it. And then I also enjoyed my days with the publishers; Mr Herbert and Mr Darrington were gentlemen, and so was Ronald Pearson. He, too, would have come under the banner of middle-class, upper middle-class. But being the tail end of a huge family, he had to earn his living. I enjoyed their company. I don’t like fakes, Mama.’
‘Those you would call fakes, Gerald, are sometimes merely diplomats.’
‘Oh, no, no. Anyway, my dear, let’s start on cook’s pudding and leave the future until it happens, eh? What about it? And by the way, I’m going to take another look at the woodman’s cottage. You know, it could be made habitable again, and we could offer it to someone in return for a few hours of their labour.’
‘It will take a lot to bring it into order.’
‘Only the materials. McNamara and I could do it between us.’
‘It was practically overgrown with scrub the last time I was down there.’
‘Oh, the clearing of that will be the easiest part. And if I remember rightly, Trotter had a bit of a garden down there, grew his own stuff.’
‘You couldn’t remember Trotter, dear; he left when you were very small.’
‘Not so small. I must have been about five. Anyway, I can recall what the place looked like, and if we can work another patch down there it’ll all help.’
She smiled tolerantly at him now, saying, ‘Given time, I can see you turning all the grounds into a vegetable patch.’
‘And wouldn’t that be good! Just think of the money it would bring in. You could go up to town, do the shows, get yourself seasonable rig-outs.’
She answered soberly now, ‘If there was money to spend, I’d rather put it for help in the house.’
And he answered just as soberly now, ‘Yes. Yes, that would be more sensible. But that’s what will happen in the next year or two, you’ll see.’
He finished his pudding and, rising from the table, asked, ‘Will you excuse me, dear?’ Then went round to her and kissed her cheek before going out.
But she sat on, thinking of the dread of going on living in this mausoleum of a house if anything should happen to him …
He was standing on the edge of what had once been a large clearing but which was now padded down with seasons of dank grass, with patches here and there of tall weeds. One such patch was obscuring the small window of the cottage. Then he noticed something odd: a patch of weeds near the door had been pressed to the side. The door, which for some long time, had been hanging half-open on one hinge, was pressed well back. It wasn’t likely, he told himself, that a tramp had taken shelter in there, because the cottage was situated in the middle of the grounds and even now, although the acreage had become shrunken over the years, its situation was a good half-mile from the nearest public path.
He had almost reached the cottage itself when he was startled by a combined screeching: a black shape just missed his face, cawing angrily as it went, and a small, screeching figure pelted herself at him before springing back and turning a terrified countenance up to him.
‘Well, it was the b
ird! It…it jumped at me from the fireplace. I…I wasn’t doing any harm, I was just looking.’
‘Yes. Yes,’ he said soothingly, ‘I’m sure you weren’t doing any harm, you were just looking.’ He bent down to her now. ‘You are Mr Gibson’s granddaughter, aren’t you? We have met before.’
She blinked rapidly before saying, ‘Oh yes, yes. You were at the wall with your mother.’
‘Yes, that’s it; I was at the wall with my mother. But tell me, why are you roaming around here? How did you manage to find this?’ He waved his hand towards the cottage.
‘I was upset. I mean…Oh! Dear me’—she put her hand to her head—‘that bird frightened me.’
He looked about him and to the side and said, ‘There’s a fallen tree. If we move the weeds we can sit down.’
After he had pushed the weeds aside and trampled on them, he pointed, saying, ‘There you are.’ And when they were both seated on the lying trunk he said again, ‘Tell me, how did you manage to get this far? I mean, how did you manage to leave the farm?’
She now turned her face up to his and smiled widely as she said, ‘It was quite by accident. It was the rabbits, you know. You see, I am not allowed to go out of the gate and I had told Auntie Jessie that I couldn’t promise her that I wouldn’t go wandering.’
‘You told her that?’
‘Oh yes. Yes. It was no good lying. Well, I mean it was no good telling her that I would do as she asked when I knew I couldn’t help wandering. Well, I was at the wall, you know, where I saw you and the lady, your mother. And further along there is a mound and some bushes growing on the top and I saw a family of rabbits, baby ones. They were playing; but when I went near them they scattered. The men shoot the rabbits, you know, because of the crops. I don’t like to hear them shooting. Anyway, I pushed between the bushes and the wall to see if I could look in their burrows. They don’t have nests, you know, they have burrows.’
‘Oh.’ He nodded at her.
‘Well, there were lots of holes and they had all disappeared down them. Then when I nearly tripped over a root of a tree, I noticed it had grown into the bottom of the wall and pushed a stone aside. It was quite a large stone; roots must be very strong, don’t you think?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do. Then what did you do?’
‘Well—’ A look almost of glee passed over the small face now as she said, ‘I pulled the stone aside and then another one slipped out from above. I became afraid then in case the wall should topple down. It didn’t, but just in case it did, you know what I did next?’
He shook his head.
She now held out her hands to him, saying, ‘You see my nails?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded at her.
‘They’re very dirty, aren’t they? Well, you see, I did what our dogs do before they bury a bone, and the rabbits do it and the foxes. I scraped the soil away with the help of a piece of wood. But I really couldn’t go very deep. Although I kept away from the big root there were smaller ones criss-crossing. Anyway, I must have managed to dig for about three to four inches and it was enough to make the hole large enough for me to crawl through. I had to lie flat, of course. It was quite an adventure. I did think at one time that the wall might suddenly drop on me, but it didn’t. The stones are usually placed very firm against each other, I understand from Mike. He is the cowman, he helps to mend the walls. But that big root had certainly oozed them out.’
‘Won’t your aunt be looking for you and be worried again?’ he said.
‘Yes, I suppose so; but she knows I will come back. I promised her only yesterday that if I roamed round the farm I would always come back.’
‘But you didn’t say anything about roaming outside the farm, I suppose.’
She stared at him for a moment, as if thinking, then said, ‘No. No, I didn’t.’
‘I should imagine she will be very worried, perhaps annoyed.’
‘No doubt. No doubt.’
He had the urge to laugh, for she sounded so old-fashioned. How old would she be now? Yes, he remembered she had said before that she was nearly ten. Dear, dear, and not allowed to go to school! Not allowed to mix with other children. It was a crime against youth.
He watched her now looking straight ahead, her hands joined tightly between her knees, and this caused her long dress to ride up above her black shoes and white socks. And he was on the point of saying, ‘Come along; I’ll take you back to your rabbit hole,’ when she turned to him quite suddenly and asked, ‘What is an unholy trinity?’
‘A what?’
‘An unholy…trinity.’
It was a moment or so before he said, ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I want to know.’
Well yes, of course, that’s why she asked. But where had she heard that? ‘I realise you want to know,’ he said, ‘but tell me why and where have you heard that?’
She was looking away from him again; it was a moment or two before she said, ‘There’s the village over there.’ She pointed in front of her, but then let her arm travel to the right before adding, ‘It’s somewhere in that direction, I think. But I wanted to see it. And there is a school. You see, I don’t meet many children. In fact, I don’t meet any children at all except in books, and so when I got through the hole the other day I didn’t come this way, I walked by the wall on your side and I came to a wood. And when I came to the end of it there was a ditch; but the railings on the far side were broken here and there, and so it was easy to step onto the pathway. And I walked up the pathway and I heard children…children’s voices. And when I got nearer I saw some buildings and from the end one children were running. They were coming out of a gate in twos and threes and they were running, not towards me but away. I suppose to their homes. But there were three girls: one was just my size and the others were larger.’ She paused here as if thinking, and he remained silent, looking at her, until she went on, ‘When I went up to them they stared at me. Then one said, “Who are you?” And I said, “I am Janie Gibson. Who are you?” And she laughed at me and giggled, and she looked at the taller girls and now one of them turned to where two ladies were coming out of this building. And when they got to the gate they stood behind the girls and they, too, looked at me. One was, I suppose, young, and the other seemed old. Then one of the girls turned, reached up to the older woman and whispered something. And what she whispered was my name. I have very good hearing, you know. “Her name is Janie Gibson,” she said; and the older woman stared at me before she said to the girls, “Go along! Get along home.” And when they didn’t obey her at once she raised her voice to them and then they ran off. Then she said to me, “Go home, dear.” Just like that, very quietly, “Go home, dear.” And I turned and I had taken some steps when I heard the younger woman saying, “So that’s the result of the unholy trinity.” And then the older woman said something to her that sounded harsh, but I couldn’t hear what it was she said. So, that is why I am asking you, sir, what is an unholy trinity?’
He said, ‘That…that wasn’t meant for you, it’s…it’s just a saying.’
‘Then why did she say I was the result of it?’
‘People say the oddest things. There’s a lot of ignorant people in that village.’
‘But she was a woman, and perhaps she was a teacher; I think she was. The older woman was, because she sent the girls home. Are you telling me the truth when you say you don’t know what it means?’
He drew a deep breath into his chest before he lied, saying, ‘As far as I can gather it has no meaning, not really. But people make bad meanings out of simple words.’ And now he took her hand as he added, ‘I would ask you to forget it; and you know, you do realise that if your aunt knew that you had been outside the perimeter of the farm she would be very upset, especially if she knew you had been talking to people from the village, because many of them in that village are not nice people.’
She stared at him wide-eyed until he became almost embarrassed. And he was embarrassed when she said, ‘You are a very kind
man.’ Then she asked, ‘How old are you?’
He smiled now at her before answering, ‘Very old. Twenty-nine come thirty.’
She nodded at him. ‘Yes,’ she agreed: ‘that is very old. Auntie Jessie, too, is old. She’s nearly twenty-seven, I think.’
‘Yes’—he was laughing now—‘age is a dreadful thing. But one day you will be twenty-seven or even twenty-nine come thirty.’
‘Yes. Yes, I shall.’ There was a brightness to her voice and she now sprang up from the tree trunk and, her face on a level with his, she said, ‘And then I shall be able to go where I wish, to travel the world. I have a globe of the world. It is very big, and one day I shall go round it.’ She made a big circle with her finger, ending, ‘Right round it.’
He again took her hand as he said, ‘Yes, my dear, I’m sure you will. Yes, you will, you will travel the world. But now I think you had better travel to your rabbit hole. Don’t you?’
She hunched her shoulders and laughed gently as she answered him conspiratorially, ‘Yes, I think so. But…but may I come again?’
He hesitated; then pulling himself to his full height, which to her made him appear very tall, and gazing over her head, he said in what he imagined to be a stern voice, ‘I have no say in the matter, miss. I don’t know anything about rabbit holes or little girls escaping through farm walls. And if I saw one here again I’m sure I wouldn’t recognise her.’
The Maltese Angel Page 32
