No. What she had inside her now was his child and whether he gave it his name or not it would have to be born in this cottage and reared here.
That piece in the book: ‘Life is the time it takes for the shingle to be wet.’ Aye, life might be as quick as that for some, but for others it was long, for each pebble was a pain.
Five
The following morning when she put his breakfast before him, he took hold of her hand and said, ‘I’m sorry, but…but it’s as I said right from the beginning, you knew when you came.’
Her hand remained limp within his and she looked straight into his eyes as she replied, ‘Yes, I knew when I came; there’s no-one to blame but meself.’
‘Don’t talk of blame. What you did, you did out of the goodness of your heart, I know that. You’re too much that way.’ He smiled faintly at her. ‘You act first and think after.’
‘Aye, I suppose I do. Well, I’m payin’ for it, aren’t I?’
He let go of her hand, and she turned from him, while he, slowly picking up his knife and fork, went on with his breakfast …
From then on his manner towards her was gentle; that is, up to the Sunday when he came back from a stroll.
Of late, he had formed the practice of donning a good suit on a Sunday afternoon and going out for a walk. She had asked him where he went, and he had told her he generally got as far as Chester-le-Street, going by the fields where he could. He had never asked her to accompany him, and this she hadn’t minded, for more and more she was cherishing the time she was left alone in the house.
When he returned from his weekly walk she always had his tea ready, and it being a Sunday she aimed to give him something special. Today was no exception. But when he entered the cottage, she saw at once that his manner had changed considerably during the time he had been away from it. To her statement, ‘The wind’s high again,’ he made no response whatever but passed her and went into the bedroom, where he took off his overcoat and hat. But he was back in the kitchen within seconds.
Nor did he look at the table and make some remark such as ‘That looks good’ or ‘I’m ready for it’, but resting his hand on the back of the tall chair, he looked at her where she was pouring the boiling water into the teapot on the hob and said, ‘I never asked you what you did the other day when you were with your father.’
She now glanced at him over her shoulder, placed the kettle by the side of the teapot, straightened her back, and replied, ‘I went round Shields and looked at all the old places.’
‘Is that all?’
She narrowed her eyes at him, and it was a moment or so before she said, ‘No; we were going to go up to Newcastle to have a look round on the Thursday, but he was called away to his boat in the mornin’, so I went up meself.’
‘You went to Newcastle yourself?’ His words were slow.
‘Aye, that’s what I said, I went into Newcastle meself. And…and I went into a restaurant, a good class one, where there were men waiters dressed in black, and I had a dinner and I was charged seven and six for it…’
‘You went to a place…to a restaurant on your own, the kind where you pay seven and six for a dinner?’ His eyes were like slits.
‘Aye, I did, I didn’t think it was that kind of place when I went in, but anyway I stayed. An’ everybody was very nice to me, more than nice.’
‘Aye, I bet they were.’ He nodded his head slowly now. ‘And you went in there by yourself?’
‘I’ve told you, aye, I did.’
She knew what was coming but, strangely, she found that she wasn’t trembling, she wasn’t in fear of him. In some way, God only knew how, he had found out she had been talking to Mr Stuart. She could see that he was raging inside, there was a white line all round his mouth. Still, it didn’t make her feel afraid and she showed it when she said, ‘What more do you want to know?’
‘Who took you into that restaurant, that’s what I want to know?’
‘I told you, I went in by meself.’
‘You’re a liar!’
‘Thank you; I’m in good company then.’
She saw the white line disappear from his face under the dark red glow that was now flushing his skin.
‘You’re very brave all of a sudden, aren’t you?’
‘I’ve got nothin’ to be afeared of, I hope.’
‘Then speak the truth, tell me who took you into that restaurant.’
‘I was tellin’ you the truth when I said I went in alone. But I’ll tell you what you want to know, everything, when you tell me how you came to know about it.’
She now watched the colour deepen in his face; she watched him blink rapidly as if to wash dust from his eyes, then move one lip hard over the other saying, ‘I called in a pub for a drink along the Chester-le-Street road, and I…I met a fellow there who knew me and you, and all about everything. He told me he saw you and that—’ His lips pursed as if to spit before he went on, ‘That individual down there. You were sitting together in a cosy nook in a churchyard. Deny it. Go on, deny it.’
‘I’m not going to deny it.’ Some of her calmness had gone now. ‘Aye, it’s true; I told you I would tell you the truth. I was sittin’ with him on a seat in a churchyard but I’d just met him by chance. I was looking in a shop window and he came out and…and he spoke to me.’
‘Not for the first time then?’
‘No, not for the first time. I’ve talked to him once afore in the fields here when he was taking a stroll and when I told him he shouldn’t be on this side of the road. He said as much as the land wasn’t yours, and neither it is.’
‘Get back to the point.’ His teeth now were grating against each other, his lips squared away from them. ‘It was all arranged, wasn’t it, you and visiting your da? What do you take me for, a bloody fool? And what were you talking about when you sat there hand in hand on a church bench, eh? Hand in hand!’ His voice was almost at the pitch of a scream. ‘Were you making arrangements to go down and run his house for him and supply his needs? Because you’re the only one he could get around here; it takes some stomach to go to bed with a murderer.’
She was strangely still inside now, and empty; it was as if all the blood had drained from her body. The other night she had decided that she could never leave here because of the child that was within her, but in this moment she knew that the workhouse would be preferable to living with him any longer, and she told him so. But first of all she stung him to the quick by saying, ‘He has never asked me to share his bed, and I’m sure he never would because he happens to be a gentleman. He hasn’t to pretend, it’s there for anyone to see. An’ now I’ll get me things together and I’ll go.’
Before the last word had passed her lips he was bawling again. ‘Oh no! Oh no, you don’t!’
She stared at him in surprise as he thrust his arm out and jabbed her shoulder with his finger. Emphasising each word, he now slowly brought out, ‘You’ll stay here for as long as I want because if you go down that hill and don’t come back, I’ll take a gun and, before God, I’ll blow his bloody brains out. I’m not going to be made a laughing stock for a second time. Oh no, not again. You go to him and that’ll be the finish of him.’
Up till now there had been no fear of him in her, but as she looked into his contorted face she saw that he meant every word he was saying, she could actually see him doing it. She had known for a long time that he was a weak man, a vain man, and in the present case it would be his vanity that would give him courage to carry out his threat.
They stared at each other while the French clock on the mantelpiece ticked its silver sounding seconds away; it was as if they had become frozen in time.
It was she who moved first. Her shoulders slumped, she drew the air into her chest, swallowed deeply, then went past him into the scullery and there, closing the door behind her, she went to the stone sink and vomited.
Six
The atmosphere in the cottage had completely changed. He had never been talkative; not once during the t
ime they had been together had they discussed any subject but that which concerned the few livestock, the land, and the weather, and although often at night she had wished he would have chatted a bit she felt she understood his reticence, it even intensified the feeling of care she had for him. Time and again she had wanted to put her arms round him and say, ‘Come on, cheer up, there’s another day the morrow.’ But he wasn’t the type to respond to such homely philosophy, and increasingly she had become aware of this. So the silences between them had lengthened. However, they had been quiet silences, kindly silences, understanding silences. But no longer. She now cooked his meals and placed them before him without a word, and he ate them without a word. She rubbed shoulders with him in the shippon; she carried the kindling that he was now cutting from the far wood, and piled it on the trolley and dragged it to the cottage gable end; side by side with him she clamped the last of the potatoes, and also the swedes; and they didn’t exchange a word.
But the nights were the worst. She had contemplated sleeping on the wooden settle in the kitchen, but it was too short; and anyway there was no kind of a pad or mattress to put on it, and so she lay by his side, but as far from him as she could get, which meant lying close against the wall. He, on his part, lay on the edge of the bed until he fell into sleep, when he would turn on his back and snore.
The lack of contact was nothing new, for during these past months he had taken her less and less, in fact she reckoned the unloving act that had created her conception and which he had woken from sleep to perform, was by way of a mistake, for previously two whole months had gone by and he hadn’t touched her.
She didn’t know how long she could continue to go on living like this, yet she was frightened, even terrified to break away because such was his state of mind she knew he firmly believed that she would go down into that house and live with its present owner. And that, he had said, he wouldn’t let happen.
On the Wednesday morning she got ready as usual for her weekly visit to Gateshead. It was then that he spoke to her for the first time in days. Looking at her coldly, he said, ‘If you don’t come back you know what’ll happen. I’ll keep me promise if it’s the last thing I do.’
She made no reply, she just stared back at him as she tied a scarf round her hat so that the wind, which was blowing high, wouldn’t take it from her head; and she went out and down the hill and caught the carrier cart.
Her Aunt Mary’s greeting was as warm as ever, but this time there was something added to it. Wagging her finger in Emily’s face, her head to the side, her eyes slanted, she demanded, ‘Now, tell me, me lass, what you up to? What game are you playin’? Come on now, come clean with your Aunt Mary.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Mary.’
‘Well, you should do. Here, give me your coat. You look as white as a sheet. Are you in trouble?’
Emily slowly sat down and, holding her hands out to the blaze, said, ‘Yes, Aunt Mary, you could say I’m in trouble, and in more ways than one.’
‘Well, if you will play fast and loose, what do you expect?’
Emily’s head jerked round. She was on her feet again, demanding, ‘What do you mean, fast and loose? I’m not playin’ any fast and loose. What d’you mean?’
‘Now, now! Don’t get agitated. You tell me your side of it first and put me in the picture. I’ll listen quietly, aye, I’ll listen quietly.’
‘Well, my side is, I’m going to have a bairn.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Yes, that’s what I said when I knew.’
‘He’ll have to marry you.’
‘He won’t.’
‘He’s a swine then.’
‘Yes. Yes, I agree with you, Aunt Mary, he’s a swine.’
‘Ah, lass, what’s happened to you? Sit yourself down.’ She put her hand on Emily’s shoulder and pushed her gently back into the chair; then bending towards her, she said, ‘Is it this other fellow?’
‘What other fellow, Aunt Mary?’ Emily now screwed up her face. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Well, lass, now I’ll tell you what I mean. Yesterday afternoon, about two o’clock, there was a knock on the door an’ when I opened it there stood a man, a gentleman. Dressed up to the nines he was; signet ring, gold albert, top coat with an astrakhan collar, the lot. An’ what d’you think he says to me? Well, he says, “Are you Miss Kennedy’s aunt?”
‘“Aye, I am,” I says back at him.
‘“Well, can I have a word with you?” he says.
‘Well, I take a breath, and I looks at his face. He didn’t look quite English although he spoke it all right, quite fancy I’d say, an’ so I said, “Come in”, and I didn’t apologise for the state of the house, nor the bairns’—she waved her hand around the floor where two of her brood were sitting on the corner of the mat and another was playing with a clouty doll under the table—‘I didn’t say “You can take me as you find me”, I hadn’t asked him to come, but what I said to him was, “You can be seated if you wish.” And he sat himself down by the table there.’ She stabbed her finger now towards the table, then went on, ‘Then he said to me, “When your niece visits you next would you be kind enough to give her this parcel?” and at this he takes a packet from his coat pocket and hands it to me. And…here it is.’
Emily watched her Aunt Mary lift her arm to the mantelpiece and take from a Coronation mug a small, narrow parcel; and when she placed it in her hand she said, ‘There it is. And I might as well tell you me fingers have been itching like mad to open it. I don’t think I could have lasted out another day.’ She gave a high laugh. ‘So go on; don’t keep me in agony any longer; let’s see what’s in it.’
As if she were performing in a dream, Emily slowly tore the two layers of paper, one brown and one white from the parcel, and she ignored the envelope attached to the white paper as she gazed at the red leather case. But she didn’t open it, she just sat staring at it. She knew what was inside, and she could find no words at all in her mind, nothing, to explain her feelings at the moment. It was only Mary bawling now, ‘If you don’t open it, begod, I will!’ that made her lift the lid, to disclose the watch lying on a red velvet bed.
‘Eeh! Beloved Jesus! Did you ever see anything like that in your life? Eeh! What is it, a bangle? No!’ Mary’s grubby fingers lifted the watch from its bed and she dangled it in front of her face. For a moment she too was lost for words, and not until she had replaced it in the case did she speak. Then, pulling a chair forward, her knees touching those of Emily’s, she said quietly, and firmly, ‘I’m not one to take kindly to stuffin’ so now don’t tell me, lass, that you know nowt about this man who’s given you this.’
‘Aunt Mary.’
‘Aye, lass.’
Emily swallowed. ‘It’s a long, long story.’
‘Well, I’ve all the time in the world, lass, and nothin’ to fill it, so go on, start at the beginnin’.’
And so Emily started at the beginning; and her story held Mary speechless until she finished, saying, ‘And that’s the whole story, Aunt Mary, from beginning to end. And it’s true as God’s in heaven, there’s nothin’ atween him and me. As I told you, there I was lookin’ at it in the window and he came out of the shop, and I was so upset about Mr Tooton that he found a place for me to sit. Somebody must have seen me there with him, and, of course, it got to Larry; and as I said an’ all, it’s been hell ever since. I’m frightened, Aunt Mary. I was never frightened afore, not really, not of anybody, but I know that if he’s shamed again, as he says, he’ll not stand it. But, Aunt Mary’—she shook her head—‘it’s so fantastic…well, I haven’t got words to describe it, I can only say I would never go into that house again, even to work, it wouldn’t be decent.’
‘No, you’re right there, lass. Either way it wouldn’t be decent. Aye, by!’ Mary bit hard down on her lip. ‘Nobody’d believe it. But you know what they say, truth’s stranger than fiction. But…but all this apart, that fellow should marry you and give your bairn a
name.’
‘Aunt Mary’—Emily’s voice now was hard, as was her expression—‘Aunt Mary, I wouldn’t marry him if he went on his knees to me, not now. And if it wasn’t that I’m scared of what he’d do to Mr Stuart I’d be out of that cottage an’ down the hill afore you could say Jack Robinson. I’d sooner have the bairn in the workhouse than have it up there now if I’d any choice.’
‘Well, you’ll have no bairn in any workhouse, lass.’ Mary got to her feet. ‘An’ don’t talk such rubbish. As long as I’ve a roof over me head you’ll have shelter. As they say in those fancy stories our Annie reads to me, “Her home left a lot to be desired”—well, that applies here. But what we have you’re welcome to, lass. An’ your Uncle Frank would say the same.’
‘Thanks, Aunt Mary.’
Now Mary, pointing to the wrapping that lay on the floor beside Emily’s feet, said, ‘Don’t you want to know what he says?’
Emily looked down towards the paper and the envelope attached to it, and stooping she picked it up and opened it.
It read quaintly, for it was headed:
‘Dear Emily—dear friend,
I want you to accept this gift and not question the whys or the wherefores, just look upon it as doing me a favour, for I have no-one to be kind to, no-one to give presents to, and so you will do me a great kindness by keeping what is, after all, really your own property?
May I say that the time we spent together in Newcastle was the happiest I have experienced since returning to this country, and although I must respect your wishes I hope that when we do meet, accidentally, you will give me a few minutes of your time, for there is no-one I would rather talk to than yourself.’
She turned the page over now and continued to read:
‘I have explained to the jeweller that it may happen you would want to sell the watch back to him. I have given him your name and description. He will, of course, bargain with you, that is to be expected; but I think he is a fair man and will not try to cheat you over and above the profit his trade demands.
The Tide of Life Page 39
