Pure as the Lily (40 page)

“It’s scandalous,” Annie said, ‘utterly, utterly scandalous and for more reasons than one, getting married two days ? I; i after Granda is buried. And then the sneakiness of it, and her career. This is the repayment I’ve got for the years of thought I’ve bestowed on her, and there’s only one person to blame for it. “ J’^ “ And that’s me, “Mary said. | fv “ Yes, yes, it’s you, Mam. You’ve encouraged her. “

“It’s no use me saying I hadn’t anything to do with it, is it?”

“No, because I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Ben. Of all people, Ben!” Annie literally stormed up and down the room while her husband sat with his head bowed and his hands between his knees, with Mary opposite him watching her daughter.

After a few minutes she said, ““ If she travelled the world over she’d never do better than Ben. “

“Never do better than Ben!” Annie had stopped in her prancing.

“A

mechanic! “

“A garage owner, he has his own garage, and this is only the beginning.”

“He couldn’t even get his A-levels.”

“No, he couldn’t even get his A-levels. But nevertheless he’s got a head on his shoulders, a business head, and before many years are over he’ll have garages in every town both sides of this river; he’ll be another Adams and Gibbon, or better. “

“Adams and Gibbon! That’s got to be proved. As I see it now, it’s just high falluting thinking.”

“Well, if it is and he only has the one place he’ll still be well off, because I might as well tell you now, so’s it won’t come as a shock to you later, he’ll have all I’ve got when I go all of it!”

“OH MAM!”

Yes, oh mam. Tom there’—she nodded to her son-in-law, who was looking at her now from under his brows Tie’s able to provide you with all you need, and more, and when Ben gets my money he’ll be able to provide Pat with all she’ll ever need. But as I see it he’ll be doing that off his own bat afore long. “

“You’ve always cared more about him than any one of us, Pat or me or.. oh!” Mary looked at her daughter, and she thought, She looks just like me ma in 1933, and she said, “He’s been as a son to me, Annie.”

“And I’ve never been as a daughter You were married when you were hardly nineteen, and before that you were spoilt by your father, by your gran da and your Uncle Jimmy.”

“But never you?”

“Well, somebody had to keep you in order.” And she could have added, “Try to erase your grandmother’s traits that were very evident in you from a child.”

“Where’ve they gone, do you know, Mam?” It was Tom speaking now, and she answered, “Yes, I know, Tom, but I’m not going to say. They’ll be back at the end of the week.”

“Where’re they going to live?” It was a demand from Annie.

“Above the garage; they’ve got it all planned “ Above the garage! “ Annie tossed her head scornfully to SOS

one side and gazed up at the ceiling, and Mary put in quickly, “Yes, above a garage; not forgetting, Annie, that you were brought up above a shop, and it didn’t do you any harm.”

“She’s different.”

^es, she’s different,” said Mary sharply now, Taecause she doesn’t want to get away from her early surroundings. As strange as that may seem to you, she wants to live in Jarrow, because she was happy here.

She was born here, she feels part of the place. Newcastle was like a foreign country. An’ the University. oh, it’s all right for some, but she didn’t fit in. “

“Not fit in? With her brains!” Annie’s head was swinging from shoulder to shoulder.

“Not fit in! She could have fitted in anywhere Cambridge, anywhere. And now to live above a gar....”

“Stop it, Annie. Stop it. She can still use her brains.”

“On what, I ask you, a baim a year?”

“Well, she could do worse.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“All right, it’s a matter of opinion. You have yours, and I have mine.” In the silence that followed Tom’s quiet voice put in, “What are you going to do, Mam, now that you’re on your own?”

“Live, I hope, Tom,” she answered.

“Where?” Annie’s voice now prodded her like a skewer being rammed into meat.

“I don’t know yet.” Mary’s answer was sharp, and loud.

“Then I think it’s about time you did, if you say they’ve now told you you’ve got to be out of here in a month.”

“Well, I’ve got a month then,” said Mary.

“I’ll find some place. If not, I’ll put the furniture into store, the bits I want to keep, and then I’ll have a look round. That is, after I’ve had a holiday, a long one, perhaps touring ... round the world. Why not?

I’ve promised myself this for years.”

“Touring! On your own?” Annie’s voice was scornful.

Yes, I’m past school age. But what am I talking about anyway, school age! The youngsters hitch-hike across Europe, so I suppose a boat or a plane will take me. “

“Oh! come on.” Annie’s voice brought Tom up slowly from his chair.

Looking at Mary, he smiled gently as he said, “Well, if you’re stuck, Mam, you know where to come.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

Annie came and stood in front of her now, her mouth a thin line, and wagging her head while she blinked the tears from her eyes she said, “I’ll never forgive you, Mam.”

“I know that, love, I know that, but at bottom, Annie, what you want, and what I want, what we all want, is Pat’s happiness, and if she’s going to be happy with Ben, and she is happy with him, then we should all be happy.... And what you don’t know, lass, is she’s been in love with him for years, chasing him for years.”

“Oh, Mam! my Pat chasing Ben? Talk about imagination!”

Yes, talk about it. Anyway, as I said, as long as she’s happy why should we tear each other’s eyes out? “

“It’s the way it’s been done, underhand.”

“Well, if they had tried to doit straight you’d have put your spoke in and spoilt things. I’m sorry, I’m sorry’—she raised her hand But you know yourself you would; if you’re honest with yourself you know you would.”

“I’m going.”

Mary leant forward and kissed the stiff cheek and smiled as she said, “Try not to hate me too much.

And about me will, I’ll leave you enough to buy a stick of rock. But don’t think you’re going to get it just yet.” She poked her daughter in the shoulder, and Annie flounced round and went out of the room.

When Tom came towards her and kissed her gently, he whispered, “She’ll get over it.”

“I know, Tom.”

“Tell Pat I’m glad she’s happy.”

Mary put her arms around her son-in-law’s neck now and

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they hugged each other, and she said, in not too Iowa voice so that it would carry to her daughter, “I know one thing, Tom. My daughter was damned lucky to get you, and if she’s wise she’ll mind her p’s and q’s and hang on to you. With this self—service divorce business now and women snatching at blokes right, left and centre, she should look out.” She now pulled a face at him and stabbed her finger towards the open door, and he doubled his fist and wagged it at her, and they both suppressed their laughter. I . I’,” When they had gone Mary slowly sat down on the couch and gazed at the fire. There was a strange, soft hush over the house and she attributed it for the moment to the snaw that was falling and had been doing so all day. There was no sound of footsteps coming from the road or the street. Yet as she listened to the silence she knew it wasn’t caused by the muting of the snow, but by the absence of people in the | |p” house.

fe For the first time in forty years she was alone in this house |S and for the first time in forty years there was no one to call 1^ her name, bring her attention to them. She had achieved the |j, state for which she had longed, the state of freedom. All the I;;1;! time in the future was her own.

% She leant forward and, resting her forearms on her knees, looked at the floor. She had at last got what she had, wanted ; but now she had got it, what was she going to do with it? She ^ hadn’t thought it would be like this, she had thought it i; would be exhilarating. She had seen herself dashing down | i into the shop, grabbing up a couple of cases and packing. She | had seen herself telephoning a travel bureau and asking when the next ship was going to Norway, or how did she go about taking a plane to New York. She had gone over it all in her mind scores and scores of times.

She moved her head and looked around her. She was ; doing none of the things she thought she would do. She was just sitting here feeling like a lost old woman . 65 . 75, not 55. What was she going to do with herself in the future? Whether it was to be short or long how was she going to fill it? Even tonight, what was she going to do with herself? She looked at the television. She could switch it on. She looked at the book shelves. She could read a book. There was her knitting, there was a pullover for Ben half finished. She could pick up the morning paper and look over the Stock Market; she hadn’t looked at it for two or three days. But all she wanted to do was to sit here and cry.

Well, she wasn’t going to!

She would start packing, because, whether she liked it or not, she must be out of here within a month, and there was all that stuff down in the shop to be rid of. And whichever house she took she’d start from scratch. She wasn’t going to carry bundles of memories with her, even wrapped up in furniture, she had enough in her head to last her the rest of her life. Yes, she’d start sorting out in earnest, she’d work it off. It was a good slogan that, work it off.

She worked it off all the week. She burnt business papers going back to when Ben’s father first took the shop. She gave away boxes and framework and sweet bottles and all the paraphernalia that had gone to make up the shop, to the children and handymen around the doors, and most of the contents of the room she allotted to the various neighbours to collect when she was ready to go. And in this way, miserably, she passed the first days of her freedom. Now it was Friday and she was longing for the morrow when Ben and Pat would return.

It was about five o’clock when she decided to call it a day. She had a bath, dressed, made herself a cup of tea and was just settling down in the sitting-room when there was a hammering on the back door and she heard a childish voice shouting, “Mrs. Tollett! Mrs. Tollett! Are you in, Mrs. Tollett?” She went down the stairs and opened the door. It was dark in the yard, but standing on the step, shown up by the light from the stairs, was a small boy well-known to her, Mrs. McArthur’s grandson, Freddie.

“What is it, Freddie?” she said.

“This man, Mrs. Tollett, he’s been luckin’ for you. He asked us if you was still livin’ hereabouts ‘cos the shop’s all boarded up, an’ I said aye, an’ you’d be in round the corner. An’ you are.” Mary peered over the boy’s head into the darkness. Then she lifted her hand and switched on the yard light, and there she saw the man standing midway down the snow-covered yard. He was a tall man, broad, wearing a heavy coat with a sort of astrakhan collar; he had a trilby hat on, which he now took off. He walked towards her, and when he was close he looked down on her and said in a thick slow drawl, that spoke of an American, “Mary Walton? I mean Mrs. Tollett?” Yes, yes. “

She stared up into the face, then slowly raised both hands to her mouth and whispered, “Hu... Hughie Amesden!” She still continued to stare at him, then on a high note she cried, “Well! come on up. What are you standing in the cold for? Oh thanks, Freddie, thank you. See you in the morning.”

“Aye, Mrs. Tollett. All right, Mrs. Tollett.”

She stood aside, her arm outstretched, her hand pointing up the stairs, saying, “Go on up. Go on up.

Please, go on up.” She closed the bottom door, then ran up the stairs, and in the hallway they stood and looked at each other.

Hughie Amesden! She would hardly have known him. She could have passed him in the street. He seemed to be twice the breadth he had been when they last met. But the greatest change was in his face. His skin was tanned to a ruddy brown ness She remembered it had been very fair, beautiful skin, a beautiful face. He was still not a bad-looking man, but different, rugged looking. There were lines all around his eyes and two deep lines running from his nose to the corners of his mouth.

But he was Hughie Amesden.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He was gazing at her.

“Oh, that’s silly. All these years! What is it, twenty-five?

twenty-eight? But come along in. What are we standing here for? “ She led the way into the sitting-room.

“I was just going

to have a cup of tea; wait till I get another cup. “ She almost ran out of the room. When she returned he was still standing, and she said, “ Take your coat off, do, and sit down. “

“Thanks.”

She took his coat and laid it over a chair; she noted that his clothes were very good she had an eye for clothes, quality clothes. She picked up the teapot and as she poured out the tea she said, “Fancy!

the last person on earth I expected to see. “

“It’s been a long time.”

“Are you on holiday?”

Sort of. “

“Have you been in England long?”

“No, I only arrived yesterday To tell you the truth I haven’t long got off the train from London.”

“From London?” She stopped, the teapot poised in her hand.

“Why! you must be famished, I’ll get you something....”

“No, no, I had a good meal, in fact two on the train. Quite good, quite good.” He kept his eyes on her all the time he was speaking.

“Well, drink that cup of tea.”

He sipped at the tea, than said. Tea . this is English if nothing else, I drink mostly coffee now. “

“Oh, I’ll make you a coffee if you would....”

“No, no, no!” He shook his head.

“I love a cup of tea.”

She sat down on the chair opposite to where he was sitting on the couch, and biting on her lip, she said,

“I really can’t believe it.”

“Nor me.”

“And you know, it’s odd you calling at this time for I’m. x I’m packing up. Another week or so and I’d be gone.”

You’re leaving here? “ He raised his eyebrows slightly “ Yes; they’re demolishing the whole place. “