Justice Is a Woman (22 page)

because I like it. I wouldn’t do it otherwise; I have my selfish side; I’m allowed to be human.” She was

making for the door when he said in a perplexed fashion, “I’m sorry, Betty, I ... I was only trying to tell

you ... well, how grateful I am.”

She stood with her back to him for a moment;

then, turning to him and her expression soft now, she said, “I know;

I’m sorry I was so sharp. I’m .. I’m a bit on edge today. “

“You’re tired.” He was moving towards her again.

“You must have a break. Go up to Lady Mary’s for the week-end, and tell her I sent you.

That might put me in her good books. To go and fetch you away once was bad enough,

but to repeat it

was unforgivable in her eyes. She hates the sight of me. “

“Oh no, she doesn’t; she quite likes you.” She now assumed Lady Mary’s voice and

manner as she

said, “You’re quite ordinary but a pleasant-enough fella. And that, I may tell you, is high praise from her;

you should hear what she says about her male relations, Lord Menton in particular.

Anyway’ she

nodded at him “ I think I shall take a break just for a couple of days. Are you going upstairs? “

“Yes; I was just on my way.”

“Bring the tray down with you, will you? It will save Jane’s legs.”

“Yes, right-o.”

They went out of the room together, Betty making her way to the dining-room and the

kitchen to see

that everything was ready for the evening meal, and Joe to the upper floor. It was part of the pattern of

the day.

Ella was sounding the gong for dinner when a taxi drew up at the front door and, at the same time, Joe

came down the main staircase. When he opened the door Elaine was mounting the steps

and she looked

up at him and said, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for dinner.”

“No, no.” He smiled at her.

“The gong’s just sounded; I’ll tell Mary to hold it back until you’re ready Had a nice time?”

“Yes. Yes, very nice.” She walked past him and up the stairs, and he paused to look at her for a

moment before following her. And when they entered the bedroom he closed the door

behind him and

asked quietly, “You feel better?”

“A little.”

She took off her coat and hat, then went to the dressing-table and, sitting down, drew a comb through

her hair before she added, “I ... I would feel better still if you’d agree with what I’ve decided to do.”

He came and stood behind her and looked at her face reflected in the mirror, and he asked quietly,

“What have you decided to do?”

She now moistened a pad of cotton wool with an astringent, wiped her lips with it, then said quietly, “Put

her in a home.”

“Put her in a home?” His face was screwed up as if he didn’t know to whom she was

referring, and he

repeated, “Put her in a home?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” She now swung round on the stool and, her hands gripped

tightly together on

her knees, she gazed up at him and in a pleading voice she said, “Let me do this, Joe. I’ve

... I’ve been

to see a ... a Dr. Rice, who has a home for such thi ... children, outside Newcastle. He says he will

come and see you and . and her. “

He hadn’t moved, nor had his expression altered much; only his eyes darkened, and now he said slowly,

“Why didn’t you call her “ the thing”, as you were about to do? So you’re going to throw her out, put

her in a home!” It seemed now that his body was pushed, so quickly did he move back

wards to the

middle of the room from where, his jaw thrust out and his voice a growl, he spat at her,

“No, you don’t!

Oh no! you don’t. For once in your life you’re going to shoulder a responsibility; and she’s your

responsibility as well as mine ... she’s your daughter.”

She too was on her feet now, and her own anger almost matched his as she cried back at him, “She’s

not my daughter! I don’t think of her as my daughter. She’s not human. She was a

mistake from the

beginning. I knew it, I knew it. You should have let me get rid of her then.”

“Well, all I can say is you tried your best and what she is now is the result of that best. I don’t care what

any damn doctor says about its happening to anyone, what you did to yourself you did to her. She’s

yours, and as long as I’ve got any say in it she’ll remain yours, and in this house.”

“You’re inhuman. You’re almost like her.”

“Well then, you’ve got the two of us on your plate.”

“You’re vile, you’re common, raw ...”

He made no answer to this, only stared at her, and now she cried at him, “I hate you! I loathe you!”

The muscles of his face twitched as if he had been struck a blow. He passed one lip hard over the

other, gathered spittle into his mouth, swallowed, then said, “Well, now I know where I stand, don’t I?

And now I’m going to tell you where you stand. You tell your Dr. Rice to keep away

from here,

because if he puts his nose in the door I’ll tell Betty to go. And I don’t think she’ll be sorry, because

she’s worn out. Then you’ll have to take on the real responsibility of your daughter. If you don’t, there’s

an alternative; but we’ll come to that later.” And on this he turned from her and walked slowly from the

room, and into the bathroom.

Some minutes later he mounted the attic stairs to his father’s room and almost collided with Betty as she

was about to leave.

Mike, standing in the middle of the room leaning on his stick, looked towards his son as he asked, “Who

declared this war?”

Joe wiped his face with his handkerchief and blew his nose heavily;

then he said, “She’s been to some fellow in Newcastle, a Dr. Rice; she wants to put the child into his

home.”

“Oh?” Mike shifted his stick an inch or two on the carpet, looked down at it, and said again, “Oh?”

Then casting a sidelong glance at Joe, he added, “Well, as I see it, and as things are, it seems sensible to

me.”

“What!”

“Don’t bawl, lad. Don’t bawl. I understand how you feel, but I can see her point.”

Joe’s eyes were wide, the amazement showing on his face; and now he turned and looked at Betty as if

for support, but she, after a moment of answering his glance, looked away from him and her voice was

merely a mutter as she said, “Yes, I can see her side of it, too. She’s likely thinking of Martin and the

impression on him as he grows older.”

“She’s not thinking of anyone but herself.” Joe’s voice was loud again.

“How many times to your

knowledge has she shown any interest in the child since it was born, eh? Tell me that. “

“I don’t know.” Her voice now was no longer a murmur and she was staring straight at

him.

“What I do know is that you are both bound to see the situation from different angles.”

“Tell me one thing, Betty, just tell me this: if she was yours, would you put her in a home and leave her

there to lie until she dies, which could be tomorrow or next year or ten years’ time; would you?”

As she looked back into his taut face she blinked, then jerked her head to the side before turning and

going towards the door, saying, “She’s not mine, so I can’t give you any answer to that.”

The two men looked at each other in silence until Mike said, “I say again, lad, I think she’s right.”

Joe did not come back at his father now but, turning to the side, he sat down heavily in a chair, placed

his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands, and from between his fingers he said, “I

couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.”

Presently, he straightened up and turned to Mike, who was now seated near the window, saying, “I was

talking to Jack Farrow yesterday. They have a four-year-old mongol child and he said

there’s been

more happiness in their house since the child was born than ever before.

It’s brought them closer together, and the other children think the world of it. “

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard that said afore, but your daughter is not a mongol, Joe; the doctor gave me

the straightforward answer the other week when I asked him how she’d be classified. He said there

was no heading under which they could put her;

in fact, medically speaking, she was nothing. “

“Oh, my godfathers!” Joe’s cry and his action, as he rose, of turning his head to the side as if away from

something frightful caused Mike almost to castigate him, saying, “Aye, you can be

horrified but you’ve

got to face it, and in facing it you’ve got to understand how Elaine’s looking at the situation.” In a calmer

tone, he went on, “There’s one thing you mustn’t do, though; you mustn’t let the child cause a permanent

rift at ween you; that is if you still care for her ... Do you?”

Joe stared at his father, although he wasn’t seeing him, he was seeing Elaine as she had been a few

minutes before, saying to him, “You’re vile, you’re common, raw.” Did he still care for her?

There was really no need to ask the question, for the very sight of her at times burned him up; he felt he

wanted to lose himself in her, strip off the veneer and bury himself in the woman he

imagined to be

underneath, the woman he was for ever trying to unveil; the woman, the mature woman,

he felt would

emerge one day .. Did he love her? He opposed her, he frustrated her, he fought with her, but all the

while . yes, yes, he loved her. And tomorrow, even tonight, he would go to her and tell her how sorry he

was for upsetting her, yet at the same time knowing that he would never comply with her wishes, whether

they be about the little girl or the two down in the cottage for

iate that had been kindled in her on eeting had never abated. d now and walked out of the room we ring

Mike’s question.

There were many times during the following year when the unreasonable demands made

on her, not only

by Elaine but also by Joe and Mike, made Betty wonder just how she controlled her

temper; if she

hadn’t had Lady Mary’s house to fall back upon she didn’t think she would have been

able to carry on.

Physically she was strong; but the twenty-four hours’ responsibility of the nursery fell on her shoulders,

and it was beginning to tell.

Nellie was a great help, but she openly admitted she didn’t like to handle the child. As she said, she

could do anything with Master Martin but not with it.

Then Mike, whose arthritis worsened during the winter, laid almost as much claim to her attention as did

the child, but he approached it in a different way.

“Come up here and rest,” he would say.

“Come up here and get the weight off your feet.” But most of the time her visits would be taken up with

manipulating his back and shoulders, and making sure he did the exercises the doctor had set him to keep

the joints of both his fingers and toes free. He didn’t mind grabbing at a ball with his hands, but he

objected strongly, as he tried again and again to pick up a pencil

2. 18

with his toes .. And then there was the evening card game. So often she just wanted to get to her room

and lie stretched out on her bed, but the thought of him up there alone, and fuming, would drive her up

the attic stairs.

As for Elaine, her sister worried her, for she was withdrawn, and sulky with it. She never spoke of the

child lying still in the nursery, the child that never cried; she never visited the nursery and saw to it that her

son spent most of the time elsewhere. It would seem that she had developed a possessive passion for

the boy, but the whole household was aware that her aim was to keep her son away from his sister as

much as possible.

Whatever the situation might be between Elaine and Joe, Betty could only guess at, for there were no

rows now, no raised voices in their sitting-room, yet she knew from the look of Joe that the situation

wasn’t good.

And Joe made his own demands on her. Whereas at one time he would say, “Go and have

a break;

go and see your old girl,” he had, over the past few months, made no such suggestion. It was as if he

would have her live in the nursery all the time. He would come into the room, stand by the cot and gaze

down on the child; sometimes he would lift her limp hand or turn her head on the pillow, aiming to get her

eyes focused on him. At times his finger would trace the harelip, then move over the flat cheekbones to

the domed head. At such times, when he stayed by the cot longer than usual, she could feel his pain, his

compassion, and when he

turned his face to her and she saw the sadness deep in his eyes, her heart would ache for him, although

in a different way from usual.

“Aunty Bett.”

“Yes, darling?”

“When will the little girl come out to play?”

“Oh.” Betty looked down at Martin, who was mounting the stairs by her side, his hand in hers, and she

said, “Not yet awhile; when she’s a little better.”

“When?”

“Perhaps next year.”

“At Christmas when Santa comes?”

“Yes, yes; perhaps at Christmas when Santa comes.”

“I’d like her to play with me now. Aunty Bett.”

“Well, she’s sick at present.”

“She doesn’t talk to me.”

“No; no, not yet. You see she doesn’t know any words.”

“Well, I could show her with my books.”

Betty opened the nursery door, then paused for a second as Martin tugged his hand from hers, crying,

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Joe opened his arms and the boy leapt into them, and Betty said, “I didn’t know you were in; the car’s