‘Oh, my dear, you look lovely. How did it go?’
‘Fine. Grand. They looked happy.’ She nodded now. ‘Yes, they both looked happy. And Auntie Jessie…well’—Janie gave a small laugh—‘she looked so young. I’ve never seen her look like that before. And Carl looked…oh, so handsome. I went with them to the station. McNabb drove us. He and Mrs McNabb are going to look after the place for the week.’
‘And they’re going to Devon for their honeymoon?’
‘Yes; and it will be the first time in their lives that either of them has been more than a few miles from the farm. And…and the place will be so different when they come back…I mean…well, happier. But,’ she added now with a straight face, ‘I’m still not going to live in the house with them. I’ve told them I can manage by myself in the cottage. Anyway’—her smile returned—‘I’m not often there, am I? Auntie Jessie says that by being so stubborn I’m keeping the McNabbs and Rob and his family from good housing. Well, I said there was a solution, I could come and stay here, couldn’t I?’ Her smile was wide again.
‘But what did your aunt say to that?’
‘Well, up till now, you know, it’s been because I’m all she’s got. And that is a silly saying, isn’t it? because nobody belongs to anyone, not really.’
‘Oh, my dear.’ The older woman slapped at her now, saying, ‘You’re far too young to think things like that. But you do think she might change her mind now that she is married?’
‘Yes. Yes, I think she might, because she will have someone else, someone she’s always wanted. I think she has been in love with him all her life. Apparently he held her when she was born and so she claimed him, as I did. I used to follow him around. He became, in a way, my father, until I met up with…the nice man.’ The smile sliding slowly from her face now, she said, ‘How did you find him yesterday?’
‘Oh, really very well. He’s…he’s talking much more now, in an ordinary way.’
‘Then why can’t he come home?’
‘I’ve…I’ve told you, my dear, it’s…he can’t stand being in the company of people.’
‘But he’s with lots of people in the hospital.’
‘Yes. Yes, you’re right, but they’re different. They don’t bother him. They…well, I suppose they don’t want to talk to him or him to talk to them. The orderlies, I suppose, don’t count. He’s become used to them.’
Janie now pulled off her hat and threw it on the chair, and with definite impatience said, ‘Well, is he going to spend the rest of his life there?’
‘No. No, dear, I don’t think so. But look—’ Lady Lydia smiled now, saying, ‘I know what you’re going to do next. You’re going to throw your coat on top of that lovely hat, aren’t you? Now take them both and put them in the hall closet, and then tell Nancy she may brew the tea.’
With the coat over her arm and the hat on top of it, Janie turned once more to Lady Lydia, saying, ‘Have Arthur and Billy finished that patch?’ to which the very quick reply was: ‘Oh no, dear. They’ve been in the loft lying on their beds; they can’t work unless you’re standing over them with a whip.’
At this, Janie, tossing her head, walked quickly from the room, followed by her ladyship’s laughter. Within a few minutes she was back and picked up the conversation as if it had never been interrupted by saying, ‘That could well be in Billy’s case; Arthur would be willing to work all night if you let him. He said he knew Billy would, too, for Billy had been in the Army with him. But Billy is not the same as himself, and now that there are dozens of men on the roads begging for work, I’m going to tell him he’d better watch out.’
‘Oh, my dear! He does a good day’s work.’
‘He doesn’t, Lady Lydia. You know he doesn’t. He gives us what he calls our pound’s worth. He forgets about his bed and board, and there’s many on the road, in fact, many have knocked on the door, who would gladly do what he’s doing for good meals and a place to sleep. He thinks he’s still scrounging in the Army. And I can tell you this, Arthur’s disappointed in him, too. Anyway,’ her voice changed, ‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if he ups and goes one of these days. I hope he does.’
Lady Lydia looked at the slim figure of the girl who already had a woman inside her, and she said to herself; it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. And looking back she thought that at her age, all she would have thought of was what dress she should wear for the coming ball; and would John Cook Mortimer be there? Or Jim Harding or…? ‘What was that you said, dear?’
‘What I said, Lady Lydia, was, if things improve the way they’ve done this year and we can send vegetables to the market as well as the fruit, then we’ll need a horse and cart, just a small one.’
Lady Lydia closed her eyes as she said, ‘My dear, I’ve dipped into the funds so much.’
‘You won’t need to dip into the funds any more, Lady Lydia. What we make next year, even without the vegetables, now that we’ve got the orchard cleared and the vinery and the hothouses all going, there’ll be more than enough profit to buy a horse and cart. Carl would pick an old one out that had still a lot of work left in it. You can get carts at any of the sales; and if you’re in a position to buy at any time, there’ll always be a cheap one. It would more than pay for itself, and quickly. I’m sure it would.’
Lady Lydia stared at the girl sitting by her side. Was she only sixteen? In her day, a girl of sixteen…What was she thinking? The girls of her day were long, long past. They had passed before the war; nowadays they were a new generation. They were different beings. She had encountered them of late on trains and buses. They were flamboyant; their youth had age to it. And this girl here…well, she had never known youth, not with her upbringing. And then there was the questionable mixture inside her. Yes, yes, that mixture. Did she ever think about it? Oh, being who she was she would think about it. Perhaps that was why she was so different, even from the youth of today. She was beyond them. Her heritage, whatever it was, had forced her into adulthood.
‘Nancy’s a long time with that tea. You haven’t been listening to what I’ve been saying.’
‘Oh yes, I have, dear. Oh yes. I always listen to what…you…say.’ She stressed the last words then added, ‘How could I do anything else?’
Now Janie leant her head against Lady Lydia’s shoulder and, laughing, she said, ‘Do I always appear so forward?’
‘Yes. Yes, you do, dear; you always appear so forward.’
‘But does it annoy you?’ She was now sitting up straight.
‘My dear’—Lady Lydia took her hand—‘I couldn’t imagine you ever annoying me. Surprising me, oh yes. Amazing me, oh yes. Yes, that, too, but never annoying me. What you are, dear,’ her voice dropped, ‘is a comfort. You always have been and I hope you always will.’ But as Janie went to embrace her, she exclaimed, ‘Oh! Ah! Ah! At last. Have you been to China for that tea, Nancy?’
‘No, ma’am; I didn’t get as far as that, only to Newcastle. And I hadn’t me tram fare back so I had to walk.’ And Janie, jumping up to take the tray from her, laughed loudly, saying, ‘Well, you should have had enough money for the tram; what have you done with your bonus?’
‘There you are, ma’am.’ Nancy was nodding to Lady Lydia, who sat smiling tolerantly on the sofa, ‘She’ll not let me forget that bonus. And by! I had to work for it. I nearly lost me fingers pickin’ an’ bottlin’. I pity those fellas outside, I do that.’ Then looking Janie up and down, she said in a more appreciative tone, ‘I saw you coming in with your new hat an’ coat on. You looked lovely, you did.’
‘Thank you, Nancy. Thank you.’
But when, looking towards her mistress, Nancy bantered again, ‘She looked like a young lady for once, which is a change,’ Janie cried, ‘Oh, you! You would go and spoil it, wouldn’t you?’ and Nancy made for the door laughing, only to stop abruptly, saying, ‘Oh, I forgot, ma’am. That bloomin’ telephone thing, bell, kept ringin’ and when I got to it there was nobody there, and I shouted, twice I shouted, “Hello!
Hello!”’
‘When was this?’ Lady Lydia had risen to her feet.
‘Oh, when you were upstairs restin’, ma’am. If anybody had answered saying, “It’s me,” or some such, I would have come up for you, but there was nothin’.’
The telephone was a new addition to the house and she’d had it installed because, earlier in the year, she’d had to miss two visits to Gerald because of his suffering from a severe cold, and she had said to him, ‘If another time you are not feeling well, would you phone me?’ And he had nodded at her before saying, ‘Perhaps.’ So she’d had the instrument installed. But he had never used it; and the only other call she had received was from her stepson Beverly’s daughter-in-law, the mother of the young officer whom Gerald had attended on the hospital train. The young man himself had written to her a few times and had commiserated with her on Gerald’s breakdown, and always he had spoken highly of him. And a year later, after he died from his wounds, his mother had informed her and then taken up the correspondence. And it had been she who had phoned that once.
‘Whoever it was, they’ll ring again,’ said Janie, now handing her ladyship a cup of tea. ‘It could be someone from the market. I gave them your number.’
Lady Lydia did not say, ‘I wish you hadn’t,’ but she listened to Janie going on, saying, ‘Mr Potter in the fruit shop said that’s how business is done today.’ She smiled now as she added, ‘He was very funny. He said, all you had to do was to lift that thing, and he pointed to the phone, ring to the source, say what you wanted, and they put it on the carrier cart if it was for in the country, and Bob’s your uncle.’
The cup rattled in the saucer. It was impossible, Lady Lydia told herself, not to laugh or to be happy in this child’s company. Yet why did she still think of her as a child when she kept telling herself that Janie Gibson had never been a child?
The sound of a bell ringing sent the teacup and saucer clattering onto the table. And when Janie cried, ‘I’ll see who it is,’ Lady Lydia checked her quickly, saying, ‘No, no! I’ll see to it.’
In the hall she took up the receiver from the wall and said, ‘Yes? Hello.’ There was no answer for a moment; then the voice said, ‘Mama.’
‘Oh. Gerald, Gerald. Hello, my dear.’
‘Mama. Will you put a single mattress down in the cottage and…and a few cooking utensils?’
‘Oh, Gerald…Ger…’
‘Mama, I am not coming to the house. Either I go into the cottage or I stay here.’
She had to draw in a long breath before she could say, ‘All right, dear, all right. When…when are you coming?’
‘I…I don’t know. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day. When…when I feel you’ve done as I asked.’
‘Yes. Yes, my dear, I’ll do as you ask. Oh yes. Hello, hello, Gerald.’
There was no answer. She replaced the receiver; then stood gripping the edge of the small table on which lay a telephone directory. Her eyes were tightly closed; but then she started when a voice behind her asked, ‘Are…are you all right?’
She turned and leant against the edge of the table. Her body was shaking slightly and she put out a quivering hand and gripped Janie’s as, her voice seeming to come from high in her head, she said, ‘He’s…he’s coming home.’
‘Oh! Oh, wonderful. Wonderful!’
‘But’—she pulled herself from the support of the table—‘not here, not into the house.’
‘No? Why not?’
‘He…he…Oh, my dear, let me sit down.’
Janie supported her across the hall and to the drawing room again and seated her on the couch, where she lay back, then said, ‘What you must understand, Janie, is that he doesn’t want to see anyone. Those are his conditions. If he is not left alone he will’—she gulped in her throat—‘well, go back to the hospital. He said as much. He wants a mattress and some cooking utensils put into the cottage. But’—she now shook her head—‘it is in a dreadful state, so damp. But there it is, we must do something.’
Janie remained silent for some time before she said quietly, ‘Not even me?’
And Lady Lydia could have answered, ‘You in particular, dear, because even the very mention of your name seems to make him retreat even further into himself.’ She couldn’t understand this because he had been so fond of Janie. Hadn’t he taken it upon himself to go to the aunt and threaten what he would do if she was locked in again? And he had been her confidant. She could have been his daughter, so close were they.
‘Oh, dear, dear!’ Lady Lydia put her hand to her head. ‘Now we’ll have to get the men to help clear around that place, and take a bed down and put a fire on. The next thing is, it will be all over the village and they’ll say he’s…’ She stopped.
‘They’ll say nothing of the kind,’ said Janie. ‘And I’ll talk to those two and tell them what will happen to their jobs if they open their mouths down there. Anyway, Arthur won’t jabber and he’ll keep a watch on Billy’s tongue. Now don’t you worry.’ She leant towards Lady Lydia. ‘I’ll go now and put my old coat on and change my shoes, and I’ll see to things.’
And this is what she did. In the hour that was left of daylight she had the two men clear a path to the cottage. She herself built a fire and swept down the cobwebs and the floor. Then the following morning, by daylight, she had the men at it again. They brought a single bed from the house and a small couch, an easy chair, and a straight-backed one, also a wooden table. She herself collected all the utensils needed for cooking and eating. And lastly, the men took down a double-doored cupboard in which food could be stored in one section and utensils in the other.
It was that afternoon when the things were in place that she thanked them both, while reminding them: ‘You know what I said about not talking about Mr Gerald in the village?’ And Arthur Fenwick replied, ‘There’ll be no gossip from us, miss. But what about leaving a stack of wood outside the door?’
‘Oh yes, yes. Thanks, Arthur. Yes, do that, please.’
It was Billy Conway who now said, ‘What kind of a fella is he, miss?’
Janie thought for a moment, then said, ‘When I last saw him he was tall and thin, and very nice looking. And he wasn’t a fella, he was a gentleman.’
‘No offence meant, miss, just a manner of speakin’, like. But…but ’tis funny him wantin’ to live down here when he’s got that fine place up there.’
‘He…he stayed down here a lot before he went away. This is where he used to…write.’
‘Oh. Oh, he was one of them writers? Oh, I see. Well, that explains it,’ which brought another reminder, this time from Arthur Fenwick on a laugh: ‘Well, he won’t be able to write if he’s frozen, Billy. So let’s get at it.’ And Janie, too, laughed, then left them to it, and walked back to the house, thinking to herself, Yes, he used to write, and he might again.
She met Lady Lydia descending the steps from the terrace; she was muffled up against the chill wind, and over one arm she was carrying a greatcoat and a woollen jumper, and in her other hand she was holding what looked like a large briefcase. Nodding first to the coat, she said, ‘He’ll need this. And this is the writing case he used before.’
Janie didn’t say, ‘That’s odd, I was thinking about writing materials;’ instead, she suggested: ‘Let me take these and you go back indoors, it’s so cold.’
‘Well, you can take the case.’ And Lady Lydia handed it to her. ‘It’s rather heavy. But…but I’ll carry the coat. And I want to see how it is down there.’
‘But it’s very rough going. Although they’ve cleared a path, it’s all ruts and stones.’
‘Well, if I fall, my dear, you’ll only have to pick me up.’
‘I won’t do any such thing,’ Janie said, taking her arm. ‘I’ll let you lie there and I’ll say, “It serves you right. I told you so.”’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll do just that.’
So, exchanging light chatter, Janie helped her along the pathway; and when they were standing inside the cottage, whi
ch to Janie looked quite habitable compared with what it had been when she had first pushed the door open, Lady Lydia looked aghast for a moment, saying, ‘Oh, dear me! Dear me!’
‘I…I think they’ve done very well. You should have seen it before.’
‘Yes. Yes, I know, my dear. I know you’ve done wonders, and the men too. But that he should choose this. Oh!’ She gave a shuddering breath, then said, ‘I should be grateful that he wants to come back at all. But, my dear—’ She turned to Janie now and, putting her hand on her shoulder, she said, ‘You won’t—’ She stopped as if searching for a word to substitute for ‘pester’, then went on, ‘I mean, you won’t come down here? He won’t mind Arthur bringing what is necessary, but…’
‘You were going to say that I mustn’t pester him. Well, if you say I mustn’t come down here, I won’t. Although I still can’t see why not. We got on splendidly before, like a house on fire. Why doesn’t he want to see me?’
‘My dear, it isn’t only you, he doesn’t want to see anyone.’
‘You mean females?’
‘No, no; I don’t mean only females, because there were nurses in the hospital as well as the orderlies. It’s just people. He wants to be alone. He…he tolerates me, and that’s about as far as he can go at present, but he may change.’
Janie swung about and went towards the door, saying tartly, ‘Well, I hope he does, for your sake, if not for his own, because he’s got you worried to death.’
‘Oh my dear, don’t talk like that.’
The Maltese Angel Page 46
