Loving, Living, Party Going (49 page)

Friday evening and Miss Gates was sitting by Mr Craigan's bed. She was sewing. Then getting up on elbow he fetched out purse from under his pillows. He took 6d from it and said for her to go to the movies. She said what alone, and to leave him! He said she'd better go, she was in too much he said. So that night she went.

Saturday morning Gates was sitting downstairs when Mr Connolly called in. He explained he had called to ask after Mr Craigan. Lily heard their voices in kitchen so she came downstairs from where she was, she sat on chair opposite to Mr Connolly and answered his questions for Mr Craigan. She said yes he'd been to bed before, for a week or two, and now he was gone back there again and wouldn't see a doctor. Yes it was silly in him, she said, but it did seem difficult with people as they got older to move them from what they decided on. Yes he'd said so to speak in his mind to himself, yes I won't get up, I'll stay in bed. In a man of his age, she said, you couldn't go and tell Mm to get up, yes and there might be something the matter with Mm, really.

'It am a bleeder,' said Mr Connolly, 'an' when 'e went for you in
the boozer that night I thought to myself well 'e am back to what 'e were when 'e was secretary of the Club. D'you mind Joe the road 'e used to manage 'em meetings, 'e were a proper business man.'

'Ah,' Mr Gates said.

'Well if you'll excuse me,' said Miss Gates, 'I'll go an' do a bit more as they say.'

'Yes missus, a woman's work am never done,' said Mr Connolly and she said yes that's right and went out. She had glowing feeling over her for someone had called and had been sociable, to sympathize over Mr Craigan's illness.

Connolly and Gates sat. Mr Connolly picked his teeth.

'Would the Villa be at 'ome today Aaron?' Mr Gates said.

'They am.'

'I ain't been down to the Villa ground in years,' Mr Gates said.

Was silence.

'Cardiff they'll 'ave against them today Joe.'

'It'll be glorious football,' Mr Gates said, like he was musing.

'They am the best two teams in the League, and those two with the finest record,' said Mr Connolly.

Was silence.

'Only being out o' work—' said Mr Connolly.

'That's right,' said Mr Gates.

'Without I get a couple o' bob out of the old man,' said Mr Gates, audacious.' 'E sent our wench to the movies last night.'

'I dain't mean that Joe,' said Mr Connolly, 'you knows I dain't.'

'That's all right mate, that's all right, no need to worry your 'ead about that. Why, if he 'as the doings well then it's right enough ain't it?'

'I don't like it.'

'What don't you like? Gor blimey, you a Villa supporter and won't take the loan of a bob to see 'em play. I don't know 'ow it is but some'ow today I don't feel I will rest easy till I seen the Villa play.'

Miss Gates came in then. She was thinking in mind what if Mr Connolly should stay to dinner, why she hadn't anything in, nor the money to buy it with. Yes he couldn't stay she thought.

'Lil,' said Mr Gates, 'come 'ere, there's something I wants to ask yer. Would you reckon the old man'll lend us a couple o' bob to go an' see the Villa play?'

'Well I don't know,' said Miss Gates, serious 'you'd better go an' try 'im.'

'Will you come with me then?'

'All right, I'll come.'

They went upstairs. She went behind her father. She laughed at idea of this, like two kids, her dad and her, going to ask grandad for two shillings.

Mr Craigan gave it to Gates.

Mr Connolly did not stay to dinner and so afterwards, when Gates had gone out to meet him and she had washed up, from relief at Mr Connolly not staying and from the cinema she had been to she laughed and smiled to herself, standing by kitchen window. She thought in feeling of that band, which was playing now in her heart, in the cinema, and even without a pang now she thought of band in that railway train. And at the cinema last night, what a good band that was.

Then Miss Gates remembered words Mr Connolly had spoken this morning. He had been speaking of baby he knew, a little girl – a little wench he called her, she smiled, how nice their old way of talking was she thought in mind, yes, speaking like that made that baby grown up like in time she would be. There was some said 'it' to babies. She laughed, 'the ignorance,' she said in mind. Then she heard Mrs Eames' baby next door and she thought today she'd go and see her. She hadn't been yet but now she would go. She ran upstairs to Mr Craigan and said she was just going to pay a call on Mrs Eames, she'd be back directly she said. Mr Craigan mumbled she didn't want to sit moping indoors, nor nobody wanted her to.

So she ran round to Mrs Eames.

As Gates and Mr Connolly walked more and more men came out from other roads into street they were walking down to the Villa ground. These formed on each side of street long lines of men walking, many of them still in blue overalls. Day was dark, rain had fallen just before and the roadway was still wet with this and the sky dark, so it dully shone like iron, this time, when it has been machined. The lines of men were dark coloured.

Everyone is very quiet. They walk quickly and quietly. It is early yet. These lines of men come to big red building, they pass in quickly through turnstiles onto the stands. Numbers of policemen. Trams with FOOTBALL SPECIAL showing instead of their numbers draw up every moment and more men get out of them. Men stand about selling the Villa News, always being pushed down along the street by weight of the numbers of men coming down on them. Others sell the teams' colours in rosettes. Hawkers are selling sweets and the crowd eddies round the barrows. And here, close to the gates, everyone walks faster. Quickly, quietly they pass in onto the stands through turnstiles.

Gates and Connolly pass in and stand on the mound, they go to behind the goalposts and lean against rail there. Silver band in dark blue overcoats is playing in middle of the green, green pitch. Everything but the grass is black with smoke, only thin blue waves of smoke coming up from the dark crowds already waiting gives any colour, and the pink brick.

Band plays and always, at the gates, men are coming in, lines of them coming in are thicker and thicker. Man with a rattle lets this off suddenly, then suddenly stops. Drunk man begins shouting at this. Now as this mound is filling up you see nothing but faces, lozenges, against black shoulders. As time gets nearer so more rattles are let off, part of the crowd begins singing. The drunk man, who has a great voice, roars and shouts and near him hundreds of faces are turned to look at him. The band packs up, it moves off, then over at further corner the whole vast crowd that begins roaring, the Villa team comes out, then everyone is shouting. On face of the two mounds great swaying, like corn before wind, is made down towards the ground, frantic excitement, Gates wailed and sobbed for now his voice had left him. The Villa, the Villa, come on the Villa. Mr Connolly stood like transfixed with passion and 30,000 people waved and shrieked and swayed and clamoured at eleven men who play the best football in the world. These took no notice of the crowd, no notice.

Mr Craigan lay in bed in his house. He thought in mind. He thought in mind how he had gone to work when he was eight. He had worked on till no one would give him work. He thought what had he got out of fifty-seven years' work? Nothing. He thought of Lily. He thought what was there now for him? Nothing, nothing. He lay.

But Miss Gates was not that way inclined. Everything, so she felt, was beginning for her again. Niece of Mrs Eames was there, girl of
her own age, and they talked about this baby before its mother in rapturous voices. Then this niece had a story about the likeness to parents in their babies. Miss Gates listened with intentness and knew she would be great friends with her.

'And then I said to them,' said niece of Mrs Eames, 'I said, "well you're a wonder you are, there's a child, your own flesh and blood in the manner of speaking, and you can say that, why" I said, "Mrs Pye, how can you, the poor little lamb."'

'Yes I should think so!' said Miss Gates, while Mrs Eames said nothing, being all taken up with her daughter.

' "Well" so she said "you won't never understand dear till you've 'ad one of your own" and I said "maybe I won't but that doesn't stop me from knowing what's right from what's wrong. No," I said, "taking that road won't persuade me from thinking you love the little mite more than," – and then I couldn't think of nothing, you know the words kind of left me, well I said "more than anything, your 'usband or nothing." She 'adn't a word to say to that'

At that moment Mr Eames came in with his son.

' 'Ullo mother,' he said and greeted Miss Gates and his niece. Then he said why shouldn't they take baby out between the showers, 'shall us' he said and Miss Gates and her new friend were enthusiastic over this. 'Yes and take the new-old pram for a ride,' said Mrs Eames who took gaily to this idea.

When Mrs Eames was dressed, her coat was plum coloured, and they started out she let Miss Gates push the pram. She went on ahead with husband and left her niece with Lily. Her niece was great talker, she was saying:

'So I said to him "well I declare," I said, "and would you call that a nice way to speak to anyone, with your mouth full and all, what's the world coming to these days" I said, "but some boys are the dirtiest horrible things in the world." That's what I told him,' she said, and now the story was at an end.

'Yes,' Miss Gates said indistinctly. She was torn between listening to what her new friend had to say and at sight of baby blowing bubbles on her mouth. This was moment of utter bliss for her. She was like dazed by it. Then as they walked, Miss Gates exalted, friend of Mr Eames called to him out of alley way which led to his house back of the street. He invited them all in. Lily pushed the pram down alley way and they turned into small yard which was
this man's, who was pigeon fancier. Mr Eames was already talking to this man about them, and both whistled to the pigeon. These were strutting on roof of outhouse in the yard. Baby now woke up and began to make waves at the pigeon with its arms and legs. 'Why the little love, look at 'er' cried Mrs Eames.

'You wait a second, missis, and we'll give 'er a closer sight of 'em,' said the pigeon fancier, and hoping to sell a few pigeon to Mr Eames he disappeared into outhouse to fetch some grain.

When he came back he put grain onto hood of the pram and one by one pigeon fluttered off the roof onto hood of this pram. As they did so they fluttered round heads of those people in the yard, who kept heads very still. Then the fancier put grain onto apron of the pram in front of the baby and one pigeon hopped from hood down onto the apron right in front of the baby. This baby made wave with its arm at the pigeon which waddled out of reach. Mrs Eames looked at its fierce red eye and said would it peck at her daughter but fancier said not on your life. Soon all were laughing at way this one pigeon, which alone dared to come onto apron, dodged the baby which laughed and crowed and grabbed at it. Soon also they were bored and went all of them into his house, only Mrs Eames did not go, nor her son who held her skirt. And Lily did not go, but stood like fascinated.

Suddenly with loud raucous cry she rushed at the baby, and with clatter of wings all the pigeon lifted and flew away, she rushed at baby to kiss it. Mrs Eames hid her son's face in her hand, laughing:

'You're too young, that's too old for you' she said.

Fog was so dense, bird that had been disturbed went flat into a balustrade and slowly fell, dead, at her feet.

There it lay and Miss Fellowes looked up to where that pall of fog was twenty foot above and out of which it had fallen, turning over once. She bent down and took a wing then entered a tunnel in front of her, and this had D
EPARTURES
lit up over it, carrying her dead pigeon.

No one paid attention, all were intent and everyone hurried, nobody looked back. Her dead pigeon then lay sideways, wings outspread as she held it, its dead head down towards the ground. She turned and she went back to where it had fallen and again looked up to where it must have died for it was still warm and, everything unexplained, she turned once more into the tunnel back to the station.

She thought it must be dirty with all that fog and wondered if it might not be, now it was dead, that it had fleas and they would come out on the feathers of its head but she did not like to look as there might have been blood. She remembered she had seen that with rabbits' ears when they had been shot and she remembered that swallows were most verminous of all birds – how could it have died she wondered and then decided that it must be washed.

As Miss Fellowes penetrated through at leisure and at last stepped out under a huge vault of glass – and here people hurriedly crossed her path and shuttled past on either side – Miss Crevy and her young man drove up outside and getting out were at once part of all that movement. And this affected them, for if they also had to engage in one of those tunnels to get to where they were going it was not for them simply to pick up dead birds and then wander through slowly. Miss Crevy had hat-boxes and bags and if her young man was only there to see her off and hate her for going and if Miss Fellowes had no more to do than kiss her niece and wave good-bye, Miss Angela Crevy must find porters and connect with Evelyn Henderson, who was also going and who had all the tickets.

People were gathering everywhere then at this time and making their way to the station.

Of their party two more had also arrived who like Miss Fellowes had only come to wave good-bye; two nannies dressed in granite with black straw hats and white hair. They were just now going downstairs in the centre of an open space and those stairs had L
ADIES
lit up over them.

Meantime Miss Crevy's young man said:

'This porter here says the fog outside is appalling, Angela darling.' He went on to say it was common knowledge with all the porters that no more trains would go out that evening, it was four-thirty now, it would soon be dark, then so much worse. But she said now they had got a porter it would be silly to go away and certainly she must see the others first. Besides she knew Robin did not want her to go and though she did not mind she wondered how much he wanted her to stay. Anyway, nothing on earth would prevent her going. Their porter then made difficulties and did not want to come with them; he would only offer to put her things in the cloakroom, so her young man, Robin, had to tip him in advance and so at last they too went in under into one of those tunnels.

Descending underground, down fifty steps, these two nannies saw beneath them a quarter-opened door and beyond, in electric light, another old woman who must be the guardian of this place; it might have been one of their sisters, looking upstairs at them. As they came down she looked over behind her and then back at them.

For Miss Fellowes, as they soon saw, had drawn up her sleeves and on the now dirty water with a thin wreath or two of blood, feathers puffed up and its head sideways, drowned along one wing, lay her dead pigeon. Air just above it was dizzy with a little steam, for she was doing what she felt must be done with hot water, turning her fingers to the colour of its legs and blood.

No word passed. The attendant watched the two nannies who stood in a corner. In one hand she gripped her Lysol bottle, her other was in her pocket and held a two-shilling piece that Miss Fellowes had slipped her. She whispered to them:

'She won't be long,' and turning she watched her stairs again, uneasy lest there should be more witnesses.

At this moment Mr Wray was telling how his niece Miss Julia Wray and party would be travelling by the boat train and 'Roberts,' he said over the telephone, 'get on to the station master's office, will you, and tell him to look out for her.' Mr Wray was a director of the
line. Mr Roberts said they would be delighted to look out for Miss Wray and that they were only too glad to be of service to Mr Wray at any time. Mr Wray said 'So that's all right then,' and rang off just when Mr Roberts was going on to explain how thick the fog was, not down to the ground right here but two miles out it was as bad as any could remember: 'impenetrable, Mr Wray – why he must have hung up on me.'

'What I want now is some brown paper and a piece of string,' Miss Fellowes quite firmly said and all that attendant could get out was, 'Well, I never did.' Not so loud though that Miss Fellowes could hear; it was on account of those two nannies that she minded, not realizing that they knew Miss Fellowes, sister to one of their employers. They did not say anything to this. They did not care to retire as that might seem as if they were embarrassed by what they were seeing, speak they could not as they had not been spoken to, nor could they pass remarks with this attendant out of loyalty to homes they were pensioners of and of which Miss Fellowes was a part.

And as Miss Fellowes considered it was a private act she was performing and thought it was a bore their being there, for she saw who they were, when she went out she ignored them and it was not their place to look up at her.

Now Miss Fellowes did not feel well, so, when she got to the top of those steps she rested there leaning on a handrail. Miss Crevy and her young man came by, Miss Fellowes saw them and they saw her, they hesitated and then greeted each other, Miss Crevy being extremely sweet. So was she going on this trip, too, Miss Fellowes asked, wondering if she were going to faint after all, and Miss Crevy said she was and had Miss Fellowes met Mr Robin Adams? Miss Fellowes said which was the platform, did she know, on which Miss Crevy's young man broke in with 'I shouldn't bother about that, there'll be no train for hours with this fog.'

'Then aren't you going with them all?' and saying this she took an extra grip on that handrail and said to herself that it was coming over her now and when it did come would she fall over backwards and down those stairs and she smiled vaguely over clenched teeth. 'O what a pity,' she said. Below those two nannies poked out their heads together to see if all was clear but when they saw her still there they withdrew. And now Miss Crevy was telling her who was
coming with them. 'The Hignams,' she pronounced Hinnem, 'Robert and your niece Claire, Evelyn Henderson, who has all our tickets, Julia, Alex Alexander and Max Adey.'

'Is that the young man I hear so much about nowadays?' she said and then felt worse. She felt that if she were going to faint then she would not do it in front of this rude young man and in despair she turned to him and said:, 'I wonder if you would mind throwing this parcel away in the first wastepaper basket' He took it and went off. She felt better at once, it began to go off and relief came over her in a glow following out her weakness.

'Do you mean Max?' Miss Crevy asked self-consciously.

'Yes, he goes about a great deal, doesn't he?'

She was reviving and her eyes moved away from a fixed spot just beyond Miss Crevy and, taking in what was round about, spotted Mr Adams coming back.

'How kind of him,' she said and to herself she thought how wonderful it's gone, I feel quite strong again, what an awful day it's been and how idiotic to be here. 'Then you won't be even numbers, dear, will you?'

'No, you see no one quite knew whether Max would come or not.'

As she had not thanked him yet Adams thought he would try to get something out of this old woman, so he said:

'I put your parcel away for you.'

'Oh, did you find somewhere to put it, how very kind of you. I wonder if you would show me which one you put it in,' and when he had shown her she made excuses and broke away, asking Miss Crevy to tell Julia she would be on the platform later. Once free of them she went to where he had shown her and, partly because she felt so much better now, she retrieved her dead pigeon done up in brown paper.

The main office district of London centred round this station and now innumerable people, male and female, after thinking about getting home, were yawning, stretching, having another look at their clocks, putting files away and closing books, some were signing their last letters almost without reading what they had dictated and licking the flaps where earlier on they would have wetted their fingers and taken time.

Now they came out in ones and threes and now a flood was
coming out and spreading into streets round; but while traffic might be going in any direction there was no one on foot who was not making his way home and that meant for most by way of the station.

As pavements swelled out under this dark flood so that if you had been ensconced in that pall of fog looking down below at twenty foot deep of night illuminated by street lamps, these crowded pavements would have looked to you as if for all the world they might have been conduits.

While these others walked all in one direction, the traffic was motionless for long and then longer periods. Fog was down to ground level outside London, no cars could penetrate there so that if you had been seven thousand feet up and could have seen through you would have been amused at blocked main roads in solid lines and, on the pavements within two miles of this station, crawling worms on either side.

In ones and threes they came into the station by way of those tunnels, then out under that huge vault of glass. As they filed in, Miss Fellowes, who was looking round for a porter to ask him which platform was hers, thought every porter had deserted. But as it happened what few there were had been obscured.

At this moment Mr Roberts, ensconced in his office where he could see hundreds below, for his windows overlooked the station, was telephoning for police reinforcements. 'There are hundreds here now, Mr Clarke,' he said, 'in another quarter of an hour these hundreds will be thousands. They tell me no buses are running and "this must be one of those nights you'll be glad you live over your work,"' he said. Then they talked for some time about who was to pay for all this – as railways have to keep their own police – and they enjoyed quoting Acts of Parliament to each other.

One then of legion when she had left her uncle's house, Miss Julia Wray left where she lived saying she would rather walk. With all this fog she felt certain she would get to the station before her luggage.

As she stepped out into this darkness of fog above and left warm rooms with bells and servants and her uncle who was one of Mr Roberts' directors – a rich important man – she lost her name and was all at once anonymous; if it had not been for her rich coat she might have been any typist making her way home.

Or she might have been a poisoner, anything. Few people passed her and they did not look up, as if they also were guilty. As each and every one went about their business they were divided by this gloom and were nervous, and as she herself turned into the Green Park it was so dim she was sorry she had not gone by car.

Air she breathed was harsh, and here where there were no lamps or what few there were shone at greater distances, it was like night with fog as a ceiling shutting out the sky, lying below tops of trees.

Where hundreds of thousands she could not see were now going home, their day done, she was only starting out and there was this difference that where she had been nervous of her journey and of starting, so that she had said she would rather go on foot to the station to walk it off, she was frightened now. As a path she was following turned this way and that round bushes and shrubs that hid from her what she would find she felt she would next come upon this fog dropped suddenly down to the ground, when she would be lost.

Then at another turn she was on more open ground. Headlights of cars above turning into a road as they swept round hooting swept their light above where she walked, illuminating lower branches of trees. As she hurried she started at each blaring horn and each time she would look up to make sure that noise heralded a light and then was reassured to see leaves brilliantly green veined like marble with wet dirt and these veins reflecting each light back for a moment then it would be gone out beyond her and then was altogether gone and there was another.

These lights would come like thoughts in darkness, in a stream; a flash and then each was away. Looking round, and she was always glancing back, she would now and then see loving couples dimly two by two; in flashes their faces and anything white in their clothes picked up what light was at moments reflected down on them.

What a fuss and trouble it had been, and how terrible it all was she thought of Max, and then it was a stretch of water she was going by and lights still curved overhead as drivers sounded horns and birds, deceived by darkness, woken by these lights, stirred in their sleep, mesmerized in darkness.

It was so wrong, so unfair of Max not to say whether he was really coming, not to be in when she rang up, leaving that man of his, Edwards, to say he had gone out, leaving it like that to the last
so that none of them knew if he was going to come or not. She imagined she met him now on this path looking particularly dark and how she would stop him and ask him why he was here, why wasn't he at the station? He would only ask her what she was doing herself. Then she would not be able to tell him she was frightened because he would think it silly. She would hardly admit to herself that she was only walking to try and calm herself, she was so certain he would not come after all.

It was so strange and dreadful to be walking here in darkness when it was only half-past four, so unlucky they had ever discussed all going off together though he had been the first to suggest it. How did people manage when they said they would do something and then did not do it? How silly she had been ever to say she would be of this party for now she would have to go with them, she could not go home now she was packed, they would not understand. But how could people be vague about going abroad what with passports and travelling? He had her at a hopeless disadvantage, he could gad about London with her gone and go to bed with every girl.