The Mallen Streak

by Catherine Cookson

  After Constance had read the letter, the bright gaiety that shone from her face, even when in her repose, had seeped away. She had looked stricken, but she hadn’t cried; she folded the letter in two and, when about to return it to its envelope, she had paused and said, ‘Anna,’ for now she called her Anna, ‘read that.’

  When she had read it she, too, was stricken; but her training helped her to keep calm and say, ‘I am very disappointed in Mr Headley.’ Then she had taken Constance’s hand and looked into her face and said, ‘These things happen, they are part of your education, what matters is how you react to them. If you must cry, cry in the night, but put a brave face on during the day. You’re only seventeen; the same could happen to you again before you marry.’

  At this Constance had turned on her, and in the most unusual tone cried, ‘It won’t! It won’t ever happen to me again.’

  She had dismissed the outburst by saying, ‘Well, we’ll see, we’ll see.’

  Now she went across the landing and gently opened the door. She did not knock, she entered as a mother might and said, ‘Oh, there you are; you’re up, dear.’

  It was evident that Constance was very much up. She was dressed and putting the last touches to her toilet as she sat before the small dressing table; and she looked through the mirror at Miss Brigmore while she continued to take the comb through the top of her brown hair. She did not, as usual, speak first, remarking on the weather or some other triviality; it was Miss Brigmore who, coming to her side, and smoothing an imaginary crease out of the back of her lace collar, said, ‘Did you sleep well, dear?’

  Constance stared at Miss Brigmore, still through the mirror, and she addressed her through the mirror as she said, flatly, ‘I’m supposed to say, yes, Anna, aren’t I? Well, I can’t, because I didn’t sleep well.’ She now swung round and, gripping Miss Brigmore’s hands, she whispered, ‘Do you think I’ll ever marry, Anna?’

  ‘Of course you will, child. Of course you will.’ Miss Brigmore released one hand and gently stroked the delicate tinted cheek, but her eyebrows moved up sharply as Constance jerked her head away from the embrace, saying, ‘Of course you will, of course you will…Of course I won’t! Where are the men around here who will come flocking for my hand? Whom do we see? Let us face it, Anna, Will was my only chance.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, child.’

  ‘I’m not silly, and don’t try to hoodwink me, Anna. And I’m no longer a child. Will led me to believe…Oh, you don’t know…anyway, what does it matter? As you’re always saying, these are the things that make life and must be faced up to. But,’—her head drooping suddenly, she ended—‘but I don’t want to face up to them. I…I don’t want to end up like Barbara, resigned. I’m…I’m not made like Barbara, Anna.’ Once again she was gripping Miss Brigmore’s hands. ‘I want a home of my own, Anna; I want…I want to be married. Do you understand that, Anna? I want to be married.’

  Miss Brigmore looked down into the soft brown eyes with pity. She was saying she wanted to be married and she was asking did she understand. Oh, she understood only too well; she could write volumes on the bodily torments she had endured, not only during the developing years, but in those years between twenty and thirty. She had even taken to reading the lives of the saints and martyrs in the hope of finding some way to ease her bodily cravings.

  When Constance turned away from her, saying helplessly, ‘Oh, you really don’t understand what I mean,’ she gripped her shoulders tightly and twisted her none too gently back towards her, and bending until their faces were level, she hissed at her, ‘I understand. Only too well I understand. I’ve been through it all, only much more than you’ll ever realise. Now listen to me. You’ll marry; I’ll see to it you’ll marry. We’ll make arrangements to do more visiting. We’ll go over to the Browns in Hexham; there’s always company coming and going there. And the Harpers in Allendale; they’ve invited you twice and you’ve never accepted.’

  ‘Oh, the Harpers.’ Constance shook her head. ‘They’re so vulgar; they talk nothing but horses.’

  ‘They may be vulgar, horsey people are nearly always vulgar, but they keep an open house. We’ll be going that way next week; we’ll call in.’

  Constance shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘It all seems so…so mercenary, so cheap, con…conniving.’

  ‘You have to connive in order to exist. Come on now.’ Miss Brigmore straightened her back and again smoothed out the imaginary crease in Constance’s lace collar. ‘It’s a beautiful day, and Sunday, and we’re going for our walk. Now come along and put a brave face on things, and who knows it may all have happened for the best. You know what I’ve always said, every step we take in life has already been planned for us. We are not free agents in spite of all this talk about free will. Have your breakfast so that Mary can get cleared away and I will get your uncle ready.’ She always gave the title of uncle to Thomas when speaking of him to them. ‘And don’t worry, dear.’ Her voice dropping to a muted tone, she now looked lovingly at Constance. ‘Everything will work out to your advantage, you’ll see, you’ll see. Don’t my prophecies nearly always come true?’ She lifted her chin upwards and looked down her nose in a comical fashion, and Constance smiled weakly as she said, ‘Yes, Anna; yes, they do.’

  ‘Well now, believe me when I say everything will work out for the best. Come along.’

  She turned briskly about and walked out of the room, leaving the door open, and Constance rose from the dressing table and followed her, thinking with a slight touch of amusement: ‘When Anna speaks it’s like the voice of God.’

  Three

  It was at eleven o’clock when they were on the point of going for their ritual walk that Donald came up the path and entered the house by the front way, and without knocking. Whereas Miss Brigmore didn’t knock when she entered Constance’s bedroom because she felt that she had the right of a mother, Donald didn’t knock at the cottage door because he felt he had the right of a son.

  The girls were standing in the small hallway. Miss Brigmore was coming out of the sitting room buttoning her gloves, and behind her, protesting, as he always did on these occasions, came Thomas. When the front door opened and they saw Donald, they all exclaimed in their different ways, ‘Why! We didn’t expect you till this afternoon.’ That is, all except Miss Brigmore, and she fumbled the last button into the buttonhole of her glove while she thought: ‘What brings him at this time?’ She had turned and looked at Thomas, who made a quick effort to hide his pleasure, which she knew at this time was twofold for he would see Donald Radlet’s arrival as the means of getting out of taking exercise.

  ‘Well, well! My boy, what have we? Something untoward happened? Have you closed up the farm…or sold it?’ Thomas’ deep-bellied laugh caused his flesh to shake.

  ‘Neither.’ Donald never addressed Thomas with any title, either of sir or mister. ‘As to something untoward, well it all depends upon how you look at it.’ He turned now and smiled at the two young women, who were smiling at him, and he said to them, ‘Are you off for your walk?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ It was Barbara who spoke and Constance who nodded.

  ‘Well, do you mind being delayed for a few minutes?’

  They looked back at him and both of them said together, ‘No, no,’ and Barbara added, ‘Of course not.’

  Donald now turned to Thomas and in a manner that set Miss Brigmore’s teeth grating slightly he said, ‘I want to talk to you for a minute…all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, all right, all right.’ Thomas was always amused by his natural son’s manner, for he thought he knew the true feelings that his bumptiousness and pomposity covered. He had been a little like that himself in his young days when at times he wasn’t sure of his footing or was out to show that he was not only as good as the rest, but better. He turned to Miss Brigmore now, saying, ‘You and the girls go along, go along; we’ll catch up on you.’

  Looking Thomas straight in the eyes, Miss Brigmore said, ‘We’ll wait.’ Upon this s
he turned round and went back into the sitting room, and Constance went with her. Thomas now lumbered along the corridor towards his study, and Donald, after casting a half-amused glance in Barbara’s direction where she remained standing looking at him, followed Thomas.

  Standing by the sitting-room window, and looking towards Barbara as she entered the room, Constance said, ‘I wonder what’s brought him at this time, and what he wants with Uncle? Did you notice he was wearing a new suit? He can look very smart when he likes.’

  Barbara didn’t answer, but sitting down, she folded her hands on her lap. Yes, he could look very smart when he liked; to her he had always looked smart. But what had brought him at this time of the morning and all dressed up, and asking to speak to Uncle privately? What? Her heart suddenly jerked beneath her ribs. That look he had given her before he had gone along the corridor. Could it be possible, could it just be possible? He had always paid her attention; but really not sufficient to warrant any hope that his thoughts were other than brotherly. Yet, had some of her own feelings seeped through her façade and had he recognised them, and this had made him bold, and he was in there now asking for her hand?…Oh, if it were only so. She had loved him for years, in spite of what she knew to be his failings. His weekly visits had been the only bright spot in an otherwise drab and formal existence. She had, however, kept her secret locked tight within her; the one person she would have confided in she couldn’t, because Anna disliked Donald and always had done. But she didn’t care who disliked him, she loved him, and if she became his wife she’d ask nothing more from life…

  In the study Thomas sat stiffly in the big leather chair staring at Donald. He had been utterly taken aback by the young fellow’s request. Now he could have understood it if he had asked for Barbara’s hand, because, over the years, it was to Barbara he had talked, and she to him. Sometimes on a Sunday afternoon after they’d had dinner and he was dozing in his chair they had put him to sleep with their talking, she explaining about books and answering his questions, much as a teacher would do. She was in that way very like Anna. But he didn’t want Barbara, it was Constance he was after. Well, well now, this was a strange state of affairs. And he had to ask himself a question: did he want his natural son to marry either of these girls, even if they would have him? Well, why not, why not? He had just said he would own the farm when old Radlet died. Apparently Radlet had told him this…He said to him now, ‘You say the farm will be yours, have you it in writing?’

  ‘No, but I know for certain it will be.’

  ‘What about his own son?’

  ‘He has the consumption, he won’t last for very long.’

  ‘You never know, you never know, creaking doors. Anyway, should Radlet die, Matthew, were he alive, would inherit, and then he in turn could leave the farm to anyone he liked.’

  ‘He wouldn’t; he can’t run the place, he has no strength. Anyway, I’m not worried about that side of the situation. I’m putting money on the place every year with buildings and stock, and will go on doing so. It’s a prosperous farm an’ I’m thinking of buying more land an’ all.’

  The self-assurance silenced Thomas for a time. He was buying more land, he was putting in more stock, putting up more buildings, and hadn’t a thing in writing. It was wonderful to have such self-confidence. This son of his knew where he was going, and Constance might do a lot worse, for now that Will Headley had failed her, he couldn’t see anyone else in the running, not for the time being at any rate. Most of the young fellows today were on the lookout for wives who would bring with them a good dowry. It was as it had always been, if a man had to choose between his heart and hard cash, the hard cash always won. If it didn’t, it was a proven fact in most cases that the heart pact soon led to disaster.

  ‘Have you any objections?’

  ‘Well—’ Thomas let his head rest against the back of the chair, and his eyes ranged around the room before he answered, ‘I don’t know whether I have or not; your request has come as a surprise, and if I’m not mistaken I think it will surprise Constance too.’

  ‘It shouldn’t, she knows I like her.’

  ‘Like her! Huh! Liking and loving are two different things. Of course she knows you like her, everybody likes her.’

  Thomas now got to his feet and walked with heavy tread back and forth from the desk to the door a number of times before he said, ‘This’ll cause talk you know, because folk don’t realise that the girls have no blood connection with me. It’ll be said I’m letting my niece marry my son.’

  He stopped in his striding and the two stared at each other. It was the first time the relationship had been brought into the open, and the fact caused Donald to rise slowly to his feet. Eye held eye until Thomas, chewing on his lip, swung his heavy body around, saying, ‘Well, you have my consent, but knowing you, you’d go ahead with or without it.’

  When he looked at Donald over his shoulder he saw that he was smiling, and his own lips spreading slowly apart, he said on a laugh, ‘You’re a strange follow, a strange fellow, and I should understand you, if anybody should, I should understand you, shouldn’t I? But I don’t, and I doubt if anybody ever will.’

  ‘I don’t see why not; if they understand you they should understand me.’

  ‘No, boy, no; because you know you don’t take after me, not really; you take after my father’s youngest brother, Rod. He too went after what he wanted and took no side roads.’

  ‘Did he always get what he wanted?’

  ‘I don’t know; I don’t know whether he wanted to be drowned at sea or not but he was drowned at sea. I don’t know if he got what he wanted, but by all accounts he got what he deserved.’

  The smile had left Donald’s face as if it had been wiped off and, his voice stiff now, he said, ‘I’ve been handicapped for years, an’ I’ve risen above it. I’ve worked hard all me life, I’ve worked like two men, many a time like three; I hope I get what I deserve.’

  ‘I meant no offence, boy, I was merely making a statement. And I say with you, I hope you get what you deserve. But…but,’—Thomas now rolled his head from side to side—‘we’re getting very serious and deep all of a sudden; come, we were talking of a proposal of marriage, weren’t we?’ He poked his head forward. ‘That was the idea, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Along those lines.’ The cold look still remained in Donald’s eyes.

  ‘Well then, go ahead, you have my consent; I won’t say blessing because,’—he now laughed a deep rumbling laugh—‘a blessing from me might have little to recommend it, eh?’ He thrust out his heavy arm and dug Donald in the shoulder with his fist, and they were both aware that the blow did not even stagger the thin frame.

  Thomas now turned abruptly and went out of the room and made straight for the sitting room. He opened the door and said, ‘Anna, spare me a minute will you?’ And before she could move or answer he had turned away and gone into the dining room.

  When Miss Brigmore entered the dining room she closed the door behind her, then walked slowly towards him. He did not take her hand, nor was there any placating note in his voice when he said, ‘I have news for you, news that will surprise you and certainly not please you. He has asked that he may marry Constance.’

  As he watched her face screw up until her eyes were almost lost from view, he waved his hand at her and turned from her, and when she still didn’t speak he turned towards her again and said, ‘Now it’s no use, don’t create a scene. I have given him my consent and that’s that. After all, he is my son, and who has a better right I ask you? And,’—his voice and manner arrogant now, he went on—‘they’re no blood relations, the girls, you know they’re not, there’s nothing against it. Except that you don’t like him, but I repeat, he is my son, he is part of me.’

  When she suddenly sat down in a chair he went to her, and now he did take her hands and, his voice soft, he said, ‘What have you against him really? He’s hard-working, and as he himself has just said, he’s lived under a handicap for years. You don’
t like his manner, he’s full of the great I am. Well, in his position I likely would have been the same; I would have had to put on a front. In a way he’s to be admired, not scorned.’

  ‘You can’t let it happen, Thomas, you can’t.’

  ‘Well I have, I have.’ He was standing up now, his voice arrogant once again. ‘And that’s that. It’s up to her now, and nobody’s going to force her. Oh no, nobody’s going to force her. It’s ten to one she’ll laugh at him an’ that’ll be the end of it.’

  ‘It’s come at the wrong time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She has been rejected. She may take him as a means of escape.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, don’t be silly, woman. She has no need to escape. Escape from what?’

  ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘I don’t see what there’s to understand. She either takes him or she doesn’t. If she takes him I’ll be happy for her.’

  ‘And I’ll be sad to my dying day.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, and I shall be sad to my dying day.’

  ‘Why, Anna, why?’

  ‘It would be no use trying to explain to you, only time can do that.’

  She rose from the chair and went out and towards the sitting room. The door was open and she stood on the threshold and, ignoring Constance and Donald, she looked at Barbara and said, ‘Will you come with me for a moment, Barbara?’

  ‘What is it, Anna?’ Barbara came hurrying from the room.

  ‘Let us go for a walk.’

  They were at the front door now and Barbara turned and looked across the hall and said, ‘But…but the others.’

  ‘We will go alone this morning.’

  ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘I am not ill, but I am not well.’