Loving, Living, Party Going (45 page)

'Ah. I'm down.'

She said no more to this and went on getting things out for supper. He was hurt she should take no more notice of his being downstairs, now of all times. But he was not going to talk about his being finished at Dupret's, he was not going to be first to open that. He thought of what to say:

'Maybe that's so much labour wasted o' your'n my gal,' he said, 'maybe they won't come in for supper after there weren't any dinner for 'em.'

'Maybe they will, maybe they won't but it'll be there for them, yes, on the kitchen table.'

This was so unlike her that Mr Craigan thought must have been more in her bawl out with her father than Jim had told him. For more you came to think on it more unlikely it was that she thought to run away from him. Where would they go? She hadn't got the banns out or he'd have heard. And his Lil would never stand for rooms, married or not. And there were his cards on the table.

'What made you not put dinner on for 'em?'

She did not answer him.

'Surely,' he said, 'you can't be mopin' like a pup that your dad 'it you?'

He waited to hear her sniff. Time was when anything from him had made her cry. Irritated, he expounded one of the great principles he lived by:

'In this 'ouse,' he said, 'the wage earners must 'ave hot meals every night bar Fridays, if they don't come back midday for it And
on Saturdays there is to be two 'ot meals, and one on Sunday.'

'Well ain't this going to be a 'ot meal?' she said.

He turned and went back into front room. In two minutes he felt he would be complaining to her of his health, instead of taking her to task. Again he said in mind he felt now to be an old man. Yes, and then, he thought, they took first chance they had to deprive you of work. Thinking he would have it out with her Sunday night, not now, not just now, he turned all his anger on to subject of Dupret factory, against his better judgment.

She was so excited anything she handled seemed to be alive. Bert had surprised her, yes, out of all knowledge. Once he'd said he would go he'd let out he'd looked up trains, he'd been so masterful, yes, it was now or never.

Neither Mr Dale nor Gates came in to supper. She waited for them. When still they did not come she put up the hot dish and took some sewing into front room where Mr Craigan sat. He said hadn't they come in and she said no. He said how was that? 'they 'ave no right not to come in when their supper's ready for 'em,' and she was pleased at that and thought her coming in had taken all suspicion from his mind.

She sat in a tumult, trying to keep fingers steady on her sewing.

Mr Dale came in then. She went into the kitchen and brought him his supper. When all had been put before him she said was anything he wanted? but he said no. She said something about bed and went upstairs. Craigan thought it was that she did not want to come face to face with Gates, when he would make her say to Joe she was wrong before all of them. Mr Dale ate and then came into front room where Craigan was. They sat in silence. Then at last Craigan began complaining. Gates being out gave him pretext for his complaint, how Gates was always out and now that they were finished at Dupret's they would not be able to afford boozers. Mr Dale also thought if it weren't for Lily he could go out and see the world now, travelling up and down England. But he would say goodbye to more than that for Lily. Some years of his life had been staked on her, like impaled, he could not think to let them go for nothing, the years and all he had said to her. (He had spoken little or nothing to her all that time.)

Just then Mr Gates came out of public house. He was drunk and in state of righteous indignation. Mr Tupe came out after him. He
was in same state as Mr Gates. He said to find her out, to go and give her a good thraipin. ah, to make her give up all these mad thoughts and to marry decent and regular, to a respectable man, to Mr Dale, he said, that everyone in factory respected along with Mr Craigan. This he meant and he was sincere in this for he saw many free drinks in money Joe would get from that old man. But misfortune was following him like a dog for Mr Gates at that moment suddenly became aware to full extent of his own misfortunes come upon him this day. He broke loudly into long recitation of all the oaths known to him. This was more than what policeman on the corner would stand for and this one ran him in, took him to police station, locked Joe up.

When Lily got to station, bag in hand, she was so tired with strain of walking through streets seeing in each man or woman she passed someone who would ask her where she was going off to with a bag on Sunday morning, and at the first, leaving home like she had – all those lies and the way she crept downstairs had so tired her that she could hardly see who were standing on the platform. Whether were any there she knew. She said in mind she was in such a state now she did not mind if there was someone who'd see her. She put bag down and there, when she looked up again, was Mr Jones. In his hand was bouquet of tulips.

'Why, what 'ave you got there?'

'I stopped by the cemetery and bought 'em.'

'Whatever did you bring those for?' she said, 'Yes, what for?' growing hysterical. 'Why I nearly fainted away. Oh Bert, 'ow could you?'

'Why, what's the matter? I thought...'

'And me thinkin' 'ow I could make myself less conspicuous, yes, and then there you are with a great bunch of flowers on the station platform, why whatever will they think?'

'Think? Oo'll think? What's it matter what they think?'

'You stand where you are while I 'ave a look round your shoulder.'

Trembling, breathing deeply, she peered round his shoulder at those who were to travel with them. She stood by shoulder of the arm below which hung the tulips, his head bent over hers as she peered round and this movement repeated in her knee which was bent over heads of the tulips as they hung. She had on silk stockings today.

She gave up looking at the travellers. She looked now at the tulips.

'Where'll you put them?'

'Where will I put them?' He raised them up till they were upright as they grew.

'Do not!' she said and snatched at his wrist and turned them upside down.

'Oo's being conspicuous now?'

'You go and leave them in the Gentlemen.'

'Leave 'em in the lavatory?'

'Yes, what are you lookin' at me for, we can't take them with us what's come over you, yes, leave 'em in there. Why, at every station the train stopped we'd 'ave porters lookin' in at the window and wondering.'

'Well what's it matter if they do wonder, what do they know?'

'O Bert I do wish I 'adn't come.'

'All right,' he said, 'if that's the way you feel I'll leave 'em there.' He went off to do this. Looking at her shoes she thought in mind why you see they'd telegraph back, telegraphs being free between themselves so to speak, they'd telegraph back along the line – seen a young lady with a boy and tulips, something's up evidently, do the police want 'em, like that, yes, O why had he bought them? Look at those people on the platform now watching him going – but they were not watching him, being too disgusted at having to travel on a Sunday to notice anything but themselves.

When he came back without the tulips she breathed easier for it and began to feel for her hair under brim of hat. He was bewildered.

But they were not long without their tulips. Like old stage joke they were brought to them by lavatory attendant. As he gave them to Mr Jones, who did not resist, he said:

'You'm be by the banks of the river Nile, mister,' he said. 'I sees you forget 'em out of the corner of me eye from where I was in the office, and I daint stay longer'n to put me coat on before I was after you.'

Miss Gates turned and walked off to end of platform furthest from where other passengers stood.

'You'll 'ave the missus create at you my lad,' he said, 'if you go hon forgetting.' He turned and started back. 'Maybe, again, you'll forget 'erself,' he said, more to himself than to Mr Jones, turning prophetic. Mr Jones went-after Miss Gates. Now again tulips hung down bobbing along, thumping against calves of his legs under plum coloured suit he wore. When he got to her she said:

'I come over bad.'

'Sit on the seat then.'

They sat there.

'Give 'em to me dear,' she said then, suddenly reckless, 'I don't care and it's a shame to hold 'em the way you are,' and she took them and rocked them in her arms. He smiled and for a moment had great relief. (For he wanted badly to go to the lavatory and having to leave the tulips had not given him time to have one. Now he could not go back, because of the lavatory attendant. His mind was fixed on possibility of train being corridor train.) At this moment train came in.

As on platform suddenly then she had stopped being afraid to meet someone she knew, now in the compartment, empty but for themselves – and, being Sunday, it was not corridor train – she put tulips on the rack and they did not worry her any more. Now one or two, their heads drooping through meshes of the rack, wobbled at them when train drew out of station.

They sat side by side. Now it was all over she folded eyelids down over her eyes. He thought Derby would be the next stop where there'd be any wait worth calling by the name. Other stations they'd just stop, look out, and be off again.

Tulips, tulips she remembered time of infinite happiness in a cinema when a film was on about tulips. Not about tulips, but tulips came in.

This train stopped at next station. Man came into their compartment. He was working man. They both looked at him, not speaking, and he looked at them and all three turned eyes away from each other's eyes. Then he looked again at Mr Jones and when train started again he said 'Excuse me won' cher but would your name be Pinks?' Mr Jones said no, his name weren't Pinks. This man said Pinks had a double in him then, they might be twin
brothers for all you could tell the difference between them. 'Excuse my asking you like that,' he said and he noticed suddenly tulips on rack above his head – (he was sitting opposite to them). He had to lean his head back to see them properly and when he did Lily winked at Mr Jones. Then, bringing his face down to them, again all three turned eyes away from each other's eyes.

Lily looked to see if that man should smile but he did not and she thought it unobservant in him not to smile at meaning of those tulips. Then she was surprised because Mr Jones had winked at this man and jerked with his head to other side of the compartment. Both of them went over there, leaving her by herself, and Bert began whispering to him. Miss Gates did not know what to make of it.

They came into next station and stopped. This man got out. As he got out she heard him say to Mr Jones no, he wouldn't get real chance before Derby. As he went away she plainly heard him say well he hoped it would come out all right for him. She was amazed.

'What'll come out all right for you?' she said and Bert said it was nothing.

'You didn't take 'im into the corner away from me for nothing.'

'I just wanted to ask 'im something.'

'O it's something now is it, instead of being nothin? Ain't I supposed to know.'

'Well no, you ain't, that is...'

'Why ain't I supposed to know?'

'There weren't anything in it Lil, it was only I ... I won't tell yer.'

'You will!'

'I won't.'

But she looked so miserable then that he explained. He went red in the face when she began to laugh at him. 'Ah, but I'm not laughing,' he said and she laughed and discussed ways and means with him. They could find no way out. 'Kiss me Bert,' she said but that was no good as he said he could not, the way he was feeling now. Somehow this delighted her. Their journey, at last, was beginning. Every minute they were further from Birmingham and everything harassing was away behind them now. And they were getting near to Derby.

When train drew into Derby station he ran out of the train and she leant out of the window. When he came back all smiles she
opened door for him from where she was on the inside, and once he was in she put hands on his shoulders and pushed him down onto the seat. She sat down across his legs and kissed him.

Then she got down and sat by his side. Train started again. Now at last, she thought in mind, this journey is begun. He kissed her.

But it's not like that. While she expected to be happy she was not and Mr Jones could only think of what they would do when they got to Liverpool.

For as racing pigeon fly in the sky, always they go round above house which provides for them or, if loosed at a distance from that house then they fly straight there, so her thoughts would not point away long from house which had provided for her.

With us it is not only food, as possibly it is for pigeon, but if we are for any length of time among those who love us and whom we love too, then those people become part of ourselves.

As, in Yorkshire, the housewives on a Sunday will go out, in their aprons, carrying a pigeon and throw this one up and it will climb in spirals up in the air, then, when it has reached a sufficient height it will drop down plumb into the apron she holds out for it, so Miss Gates, in her thoughts and when these ever threatened to climb up in air, was always coming bump back again to Mr Craigan. And again, as when we set off impetuously sometimes then all at once we have to stop as suddenly just how little we are rushing off for becomes apparent to us, so, now first excitement was over, for first time it was plain to her just what she was after. She wanted to better herself and she wanted a kid.

At home was Mr Craigan with no more work in him, and her father, and Mr Dale. For some years Mr Dale's life had been part of hers and she thought in mind how she was mostly Mr Dale's life.

We do not want a thing so very badly all the time: just now she didn't, now she came to think on it, particularly want children.

Mr Craigan, what would he do without her? And in his illness, who'd look after him? And wasn't a bird in hand worth two in the bush? Who'd say if they'd be any better off wherever they were going.

Mr Jones jogged at her arm. What was she thinking of, he thought, she was so silent now? Nodding to window, he said:

'Black Country.'

She looked out of window. It was the Black Country. Now series of little hills followed one on the heels of another. Small houses. Lots of smoke.

Train began to slow down. She did hate the country anyway really. You couldn't say anything for this bit but that were lots of towns in it.

Mr Jones then said, wondering still what she could be thinking about.

'Black Country courtship.'

She looked out at once. When she had heard word 'courtship' just now and for some time past heart had tugged at her breathing.

She saw man and girl walking up winding path which had been made up a slag heap. Man was dressed in dark suit with a white stock for collar and wore bowler hat, high crowned. But it was the girl's clothes interested Miss Gates.

Her clothes were so much exactly what she liked that seeing her walking there, it might have been her twin. Not that she could see her face, but it was just what Miss Gates liked in clothes. And she who had been saving to go to Canada where they wore those things you saw in movie pictures, wide hats and blue shirts! Though the older women did dress more ordinary. But O it was so safe and comfortable what that girl was wearing. Temptation clutched at her. She put forefinger to her mouth. She hoped for train to go on. Train stopped. She could not take eyes away from looking at those two, O it was so safe and comfortable to be walking on this slag heap. For where was she going herself? Where would they walk themselves when they got out there. Miss Gates felt she didn't want to walk any place where she hadn't walked before. Or to wear any clothes but what that girl and she liked, and that only where would be others who liked those clothes looking out of train windows or from the roads, wherever they might be.

Looking at her Mr Jones saw she was dreaming. He thought this was a funny way to start off on life's journey, but then women, he thought in mind, were funny things. He relapsed back into his own worries. Fact was his parents had not written to him for three years. They'd be able to put her up for a night or two till he got the licence and he and Lily got married before they went off. Why hadn't Lily
liked to get married in Brum. Anyway was no hanky panky about her, it was marry or nothing with her, and that's the way any responsible chap looks at it he thought in mind.

But that was the trouble, suppose he could not find parents. He knew they had changed shop they had managed, and lived over, for another. They had written to say they would write from their new address, but they never had. Suppose the people at the old address did not know where his home had gone. It made you bad to think of it. And his aunt, her who was wife of the lodge-keeper not far from tram terminus, she hadn't had word of them, not since long before he had. He hadn't told Lily, had kept it from her. He'd have to tell her, it wouldn't be right if he didn't tell her. He'd say, just as they were drawing into Liverpool, how he didn't know their address just yet as they'd changed houses and he'd lost letter when they'd written to tell him, but he and she would go to the old address and ask. Made you look foolish when you told all that was on your mind and then there was nothing in it. Yes, that's what he'd say and besides, they'd find them, the people who'd taken over their shop would be bound to know where they'd gone.

Now everything which before had seemed terrible to her, like how if she stayed in Birmingham she would get like all the other women, and Bert the same as all other men, never any better off – only poorer, now this to her put on appearance of the great comfort. But now at the same time she put this from her mind. Wheeling turning her thoughts took on formation ducks have or aeroplanes when they are flying, both of them. She had come so far. She could not go back. 'Yes, I can't go back now,' she said in mind. Blindly her hand stumbled to get in crook of his arm, (for she did not look at him), and crept through like water seeping and round his arm. He turned and kissed her. Then he turned back and watched those two on the slag heap.

They sat. The train was still. She looked at shoes on her feet, he at those two standing on the slag heap above. Her arm was round his arm. She put head on his shoulder, their hair whispered together, both had yellow hair. Train moved on now, smoothly, like water the land glided past outside. He rested his head on hers where it rested on his shoulder. So their heads inclined one to the other, so their breathing fell in one with the other, so they took breath together in one breath as they had been, once before in night. Her arm through
his arm felt his body breathe with hers and then her life was deep and strong to her like she couldn't remember feeling before. He did not notice, for he worried yet.