‘She wasn’t easy to live with, and…and although she was your wife I must say this, I think she was a bad woman.’
‘She was a bad woman, you’re right; and bitterness made her worse. What happened to me reflected on her and she broke off all connection with me. Seeing me now, you could say she made it up to me at the end but you’d be wrong, for what she did she did to spite Birch. As for me, what she left me is a crippling legacy, nothing more.’
He paused for a moment, and she watched his thin lips press themselves into an even thinner line. He had a nice mouth, she considered, wide; and a good set of teeth. He had a nice face altogether; although it looked a bit foreign it had something about it. She thought that given the place and opportunity he would like a bit laugh too, and a joke. He was a pleasant kind of man, a man you could talk to. But now his expression was looking anything but pleasant as he said, ‘There was a clause in her will, which stated that should I marry I forfeit all that she left me. As it is, all her money she left to her cousin’s family in America. The house and farm she willed to me on certain conditions, which are that the farm must support the house and itself. Whatever profit is made, half of it must go back to replenish stock et cetera, the other half is mine, a sort of wage. So’—he pursed his lips—‘it’s up to me to see that the business is a success.’ And now he gave a dry laugh. ‘The funny thing about it is, when I stepped into that place I knew no more about farming than I suppose you did when you first went there. And you know something?’ He now leant towards her. ‘I know a little more now; it’s George who carries the farm. He’s a very good fellow, George. He’s going to be married, did you know?’
‘No, no, I didn’t. Oh, I’m so glad, I like George; he was a good friend to me.’
‘And he liked you too. He told me so.’
She turned her head away for the moment as a thin thread of regret spiralled through her. She could have married George and lived on the farm in comfort under this man…Oh, shut up!
‘Tell him I’m glad he’s going to be married, will you?…Eeh, no!’ Her hand jerked away from his now. ‘No, don’t say anything; I’ll tell him meself when we meet ’cos…’
As she blinked rapidly and her colour rose, he said quietly, ‘It wouldn’t do for him or anyone else to know that we had met and talked, that’s what you mean to say, isn’t it?’
She looked him straight in the eyes now and said, ‘Yes, that’s what I mean. And it’s right. And I shouldn’t be sittin’ here.’
‘No, I suppose you shouldn’t. Being the person you are, you would see it as something disloyal. But I’m glad you are sitting here because, you know, this is the first real conversation I’ve had with anyone, and I mean just that, the first real conversation I’ve had with anyone since I came back to this country. I had much more companionship in prison.’
She wetted her lips and her head drooped slightly as she continued to look at him, and he went on, ‘I had killed someone, I had killed a man; I was classed as a murderer and I was put among criminals. I had to live with them, and do you know most of them were just ordinary men. There were exceptions. Oh yes.’ He nodded his head quickly now. ‘There are men who are born bad and are never happy unless they’re looting or killing. But the majority of the prisoners were ordinary fellows, men who had given way to temptation of one kind or another. And there were one or two even like myself who had killed in defending a woman; not knowing then that she wasn’t worth defending. You know I’ve never looked upon myself as a murderer because what happened, happened so quickly, and the blow I struck didn’t kill the man.’
‘No?’
‘No, it didn’t. You see—’ he looked away from her towards his feet, swallowed deeply, and rubbed one hand tightly across his mouth before looking at her again and saying, ‘I was on a paddle boat, a river steamer, and I met this girl. She was on a holiday from England, and I was on a holiday from England, or you might say I had escaped from England. It was like this. My father was born in London. His father was a tailor, and my father didn’t like tailoring, so he travelled for a tea company. During his travels he met a Polynesian girl. I was the result. I can’t remember my mother or anything about her. He brought me back to England when I was three years old, and for some reason he lost his taste for travel and took over the tailor’s shop. I took after him in many ways, because I didn’t care much for tailoring either. He was a very thoughtful and considerate man; he sent me to a good school until I was sixteen. But from then I had to go into the business. He died when I was nineteen, and the business became mine. It was a good little business—we made clothes for those termed toffs—but what little interest I had in it I soon lost. As I said, I was like my father, I wanted travel. And so when I was twenty-four I sold up and off I went. I was going to see the world. I was going to educate myself further by travel, as my father had done.’
He smiled a deprecating smile, and then went on, ‘So a few months later I was on this paddle steamer going up the Mississippi River, and as I said, there was this young lady, English also, although as I remember I had to make my nationality evident to her, she took me straight away for a foreigner.’ He put his head on one side now as if he were looking back down the years as he said, ‘Paddle steamers are very gay places, bands playing, gambling, singing, dancing and eating. I was twenty-four, the young lady was the same age, we were both ready, even pining, for love. Within a month we were married, secretly by the way, for her cousin and her family, to whom Rona introduced me, also looked upon me as a foreigner and…not quite a gentleman, for I made no bones about my upbringing or the business that I had inherited and sold. But in that family trade was looked upon in the same way as leprosy. Anyway, Rona was supposed to be going off alone to visit another branch of the family, and that gave us the chance to get away on another paddle steamer to begin our honeymoon.
‘She was an attractive girl in those days.’ He nodded at Emily now, as if to prevent her contradicting him, then went on, ‘And very vivacious. Men buzzed round her like bees round a honeypot. There was one in particular who buzzed too close for my liking. He was a gambler; his name was known up and down the river and in a number of states. He had the kind of status that a popular actor would have in this country. I came on deck in the moonlight to see him with his arms around her. I’ve often wondered since if her arms weren’t around him. But the sight raised a blind fury in me. I sprang at him. I must have taken him by surprise because my first blow to the jaw knocked him backwards. If he hadn’t staggered he would have regained his balance and likely killed me because he was a big-made fellow, and I was, in those days, even thinner than I am now. Anyway, he fell against the capstan. His head jerked to the side and he never moved again.’
Once more he wiped his hand tightly against his mouth, and it was some seconds before he continued, ‘I couldn’t believe it. Nobody on the boat could believe it, yet I was quick to take in that there were more than a few who were relieved to see him gone, for he was known to be a bully. But he was a wealthy bully, and he had made powerful friends. And it was these friends who saw to it that the verdict wasn’t accidental death. I look back now and realise I was lucky not to be lynched. Anyway, my wife of such short duration disappeared quickly from the scene, and I don’t know to this day if the cousins in America knew that she married again when she returned to England, but I do know that they were aware she had a husband in prison for certain things happened during the latter part of my term, acts of provocation, orders given which had I disobeyed even by as much as a look would have lengthened my sentence. And I’m sure the powers behind the scenes would have succeeded in keeping me there if the particular governor hadn’t died two years before I was due for release. The man who took his place, although his rule was iron hard, was apparently someone who couldn’t be bought, and because of this he didn’t reign long. He was due for transfer shortly after I was discharged…And so, Miss…Kennedy’—he now bent towards her, smiling—‘that’s my life story.’
‘A
nd it’s a sad one.’
‘Let’s say it all adds up to experience. But you know something? I feel better at this moment than I’ve done for years. I’ve been able to talk about it. Confession, they say, is good for the soul. You’re easy to talk to, you know…May I call you by your name?’
‘You just did.’
‘I want to say Emily.’
She shook her head now as she rose abruptly to her feet, saying sharply, ‘No, no! An’…an’ what’s more’—she now turned to him where he was standing facing her—‘you know what they’re like back in the village, and I’ve got enough to put up with as things are, and although if it were possible I wouldn’t mind…well, I wouldn’t mind talking to you…Well, you know what I mean. As it is it’ll save me a lot of trouble if you just pass me by, kind of ignore me.’
‘Oh! Oh!’ His smile was gentle, his voice soft, but there was a touch of merriment in it as he said, ‘That’s an impossibility; no-one could ignore you, at least no man.’
She was hot all over. She recalled the looks of the diners in the restaurant.
She said to him now, ‘Please…please, don’t come along with me. I…I’ve enjoyed our talk though. Yes, yes, I have.’ She nodded her confirmation at him and smiled. ‘You say you feel better talking to me, well, I can say the same because if I’d had to keep it bottled up, I mean what I felt about Mr Tooton, I think I would have exploded. Eeh!’—she now shook her head slowly from side to side—‘I’ll never get over him: I thought he was the nicest man on earth. But you live and learn, don’t you?’
‘Yes, you live and learn, Emily. And as this is the only time I’m to be allowed to talk to you, won’t you let me accompany you to the train?’
‘No. No, I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m not going by train, I’m going to call at my aunt’s. She lives just over the bridge in Gateshead.’
‘Is she the friend that Mrs Riley talks about?’
‘Oh yes, yes, I suppose so. Well, goodbye, Mr…’
‘Stuart, Nicholas Stuart. I used to be known to my friends as Nick.’ He held out his hand, and she took it, and her face was warm again with embarrassment as she said, ‘Well, goodbye, Mr Stuart.’
‘Goodbye…Emily.’
She withdrew her hand from his and walked away up the path. Her handbag felt like lead on her arm; she didn’t seem to be able to walk straight.
When she reached the main street and became lost in the crowd she felt a little easier. But eeh, the things that happened to her! She seemed to walk into hot water no matter what she did. And if anybody had seen her talking to him and in Newcastle, and not only talking to him but sitting with him and his hand on hers, by! What would they have made of that? It would have set the village alight again. Why did these things happen to her?
The quicker she got back up that hill and into the cottage and stayed there, the better for her and all concerned; for there was this other thing niggling at her mind, and if it were true, even Mr Tooton and the watch would fade into insignificance. By yes! If that happened she’d be right in the cart.
Four
It was almost dark when she got down from the carrier cart near the stile. But if it had been pitch black she would still have found her way over the hills, for as she was wont to tell herself, she knew the path like the back of her hand.
From a distance she could see that the cottage door was open and she felt both a warm glow and a feeling of guilt as she saw the lantern come swinging towards her; and both these feelings were intensified further by Larry’s concern when he came up with her. There was no reprimand in his voice when he said, ‘Why did you leave it so late?’
‘I missed the other cart.’
He took hold of her arm, and she looked at him in the swinging light and saw that he was pleased, more than pleased about something, and it couldn’t be entirely due to her return because he had never greeted her like this before. But then she hadn’t stayed away for a night before. He hadn’t asked her how she had enjoyed herself, but of course, she didn’t expect him to; she had been with her father and there would never be any love lost between them, that was sure.
When they entered the kitchen, and even before taking her things off, she stood for a moment looking at him. She had never seen him like this, well not since the night of the jollification.
‘You seem very pleased with yourself,’ she said. ‘Have you discovered a gold mine?’
She actually started as his head went back and he let out a deep laugh, and it was the first time she had heard him laugh since they had come here. And when he said, ‘Just that. Just that. A little one, but a gold mine, nevertheless,’ her mouth fell open.
He now grabbed up a small bag from the mantelpiece, saying excitedly, ‘I was looking for some stones, decent ones. I found a small pile in the far corner, and a rabbit or some animal had made a way underneath them, and there to the side of the run this little bag was lying.’
She watched him tossing it up in his hand. ‘Look, the top’s chewed off. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Eighteen sovereigns. My dad must have buried them there. He was a careful one, a bit near where money was concerned. I never did believe he got as little as he said for the stuff he sold. Well, I was right, wasn’t I?’
As he spilled the sovereigns onto the table she screwed up her eyes tightly against a storm that was brewing inside her. It was too much, it wasn’t fair; finding out about Mr Tooton, and now even the money he had given her for the watch to be taken from her. She would, in the first place, have given it to Larry, every penny of it, if it hadn’t been that she would have had to explain where it came from. But giving and having it taken away like this were two different things. And he was so pleased with himself. His father’s savings…my God! He had once admitted they had lived from hand to mouth.
She was going to choke. If she didn’t let the torrent inside her loose she would choke. She stumbled forward and, grasping at a chair, dropped onto it and buried her head in her arms, while he stood looking down on her in amazement, listening to the noise she was making, which couldn’t be described as weeping, or even crying, for the choking sobs that were coming from her sounded as if she were in anguish from intense pain.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet; then shook her and brought her round to face him as he demanded again, ‘What is it? What’s happened? Tell me, something’s happened?’
Yes, something had happened. A number of things had happened today. She had found out you couldn’t trust anyone; she had found out that men liked to look at her; she found her watch; she had found that murderers could be just ordinary men; and that strange things happened to your senses, things over which you had no control, for she had found that this particular murderer was kind and gentle in his ways, he was someone you could talk to…and she had liked talking to him, and she had liked listening to him talking…she had liked him altogether.
There was a space between each sob now, her head hung slack on her shoulders. She drew in a shuddering breath and groped for the chair again, but she had hardly sat down when he was again holding her by the shoulders, demanding now, ‘What’s happened? You’ve never been like this before.’
As she looked back into his face, which at one time she had thought so handsome and attractive, she knew that her outburst would have to have some explanation, and so she gave it.
‘I think I’m going to have a baby,’ she said.
If a bee had stung him he couldn’t have recoiled more quickly. ‘No! No!’ His pleasantness had completely vanished. ‘Not that!’
His tone and attitude had the same effect on her as her news had had on him; and now she bridled. Wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, she demanded, ‘Why not? It’s natural, isn’t it? And how do you think one can stop such a thing happening? You tell me.’
‘Yes, I could tell you.’ His voice came from a growl deep in his throat now. ‘Oh my God!’ He was holding his head as he turned away from her. Then as
quickly he was facing her again, and his next words cut into her heart more surely than if he had taken up the bread gully from the table and driven it into her, for what he said was, ‘Don’t think that this will make me marry you, because it won’t.’
He stood glaring at her, waiting for some response, and when none came he flung round from her again and went to the fireplace. Gripping the mantelpiece, he growled, ‘I told you before you came up here I wouldn’t marry you. I warned you, but you would come.’
His head turned slowly over his shoulder as he watched her rise from the table, saying as she did so in a quiet odd tone, ‘Aye, you did. You are right there; and so was everybody else in the things they said about you.’
For a long moment they stared at each other, then she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
A month ago she could have walked out, any minute of the day she could have walked out, but she hadn’t wanted to then, not really, because she was still sorry for him; and aye, yes, still had a feeling for him. Now the feeling was gone; it had been stabbed to death back there in the kitchen. But she couldn’t leave now because where would she go with a bairn inside her? To her Aunt Mary’s? To one room in her da’s house that was now let to Jimmy Southern? And she’d have to work until her time came because she had no money of her own now, she had spent it on him, and the needs of their life. Perhaps if she’d had those eighteen sovereigns to pick up she might even at this moment have gone down the hill. But now if she were to go down the hill it would be to beg someone for shelter. But who? The only place she could go to without feeling beholden to them was the workhouse, because as everybody knew their payment for housing a mother and child was fourteen years of work until the child could be put out to work for itself. But in her case, her da would take her out when he came back. If he came back. Ships sank.
The Tide of Life Page 38
