The Chainmakers (18 page)

'It is no use to write chérie, I cannot read the English. I can speak, but not read or write it. Even in the French I don't write well.'

Anna assured her she would not expect a reply. 'All the same,' she promised, 'I shall write to you from time to time. If you have no one to translate, you must wait until Jacques comes, he will do it.'

'Yes, cherie, that will be good. Or Monsieur Robert.'

'Yes, or Monsieur Robert,' Anna agreed dully.

She had not seen Robert since the previous evening, when she had made it plain she would not allow him to accompany her to the station. He had handed her an envelope containing her wages for the previous month, together with what he called a small bonus. Anna had remonstrated, but Robert had insisted, and after a moment she had put the envelope into her purse unopened. In her room later she found he had included an extra ten pounds. Generous though the sum was, she could not help the uneasy feeling that she had been paid off, like some common whore.

These thoughts intruded again, as the carriage jolted its way to the station. She glanced across at Jacques and Sylvie, who had both insisted on seeing her off.

'Aren't you going to open it?' Jacques asked.

'Open what?... Oh, of course...' Still clutched in her hand was a small package Alphonse had given her as she left the house. He had kissed her roundly and said 'Bon journee et bon chance!' several times.

Sylvie and Jacques watched as she unwrapped the package. It was a box of sweetmeats for the journey, and she smiled and asked Jacques to pass on her thanks.

At the station Jacques took her luggage and they both escorted her to the train. When Jacques disappeared to find the guard, Sylvie spoke.

'I 'ave enjoy to know you, Anna. I think you 'ave enjoy too, at La Maison Blanche.'

'Yes, Sylvie, I have enjoyed. I'll never forget you, all of you.'

Sylvie put a large folder she was carrying onto the seat next to Anna. 'For you,' she said, in her heavy guttural accent. 'You can per'aps sell one day, if you need money.'

Anna stared. 'Is it... is it a painting?' She knew Sylvie never parted with a picture, she even hated selling them.

'Yes, I think you like.'

'Oh, I will... oh, Sylvie, thank you...'

At that moment Jacques returned, and the guard blew his whistle.

Jacques gave Anna a kiss. His bushy beard tickled her face. 'I 'ave arranged for the guard to take care of you,' he said. 'Au 'voir ma petite, bon chance!' He leaned forward and pushed a small packet at Anna as the train began to move. 'A memory from Paris,' he said, waving.

Anna watched and waved until their figures merged into the distance. She sat down and opened Sylvie's folder. It was the glorious painting of the courtyard at La Maison Blanche, showing herself seated on the terrace, preparing vegetables. Anna felt the tears dim her eyes, she would treasure this for the rest of her life. She put it away hastily, trying to hide her emotion from the other passengers.

Clancy's thoughts were black. He trudged up the hill from the foundry, making his reluctant way to the tiny house which seemed even more prisonlike since his mother's death. The numbing sense of loss which had come upon him then had at least been lightened by the prospect of Anna's return, and hopes of their future in America. Now the bleak road ahead seemed to allow no glimmer of light to penetrate his dark solitude, and the horizon was hazy and uncertain.

As he turned the corner he saw Will Gibson approaching, and felt a small fluttering of hope.

'Will, I'm glad to see you.' Clancy smiled with relief. 'Did ye see her? Did ye ask her?'

Will's face was like a mask. 'Arr, I saw 'er,' he answered. 'There's a deal to it, more ter tell like...'

'Well, come in man,' Clancy said as they reached his front door. He opened the door and Will followed him inside. The fire was almost out, but Clancy attacked the compacted lump of slack with a poker, and it soon broke into a blaze. He added some small coal and pulled the kettle across on its trivet.

'There, kettle won't be long. Have a seat.' Clancy smiled as he reached down two enamel mugs from the shelf. He liked Anna's brother, he was a man you could trust.

'No tea thanks.' Will said. He seemed ill at ease, and Clancy had a sudden premonition.

'She still won't see me?'

As Will shook his head Clancy burst out, 'For Heaven's sake man, I don't deserve this! I can understand if she's decided not to marry me, or feels she can't face going to America, but why this? What have I done that she won't even speak to me? She's been back a week now...'

'It ay that Clancy.' Will's tone was solemn. 'Yo' ay done nothin'. It's 'er. Our Anna.' He stopped, as if choosing his words.

'Well?'

'I couldn't understand it either. Since 'er's been back 'er ay said two waerds to anybody.' Will sighed. 'I was worried, real worried. 'Er said nothin' about France, what 'er's been doin'. Yo'd think 'er would be bendin' our ears, borin' us to death with all 'er adventures.'

'Well?' Clancy said again.

'Last night I went to see 'er when Dad was at the pub. I got to the bottom of it at last. 'Er ay mad with yo' Clancy, far from it. 'Er's ashamed.'

'Ashamed? What about?' A sudden fear began to gnaw at Clancy.

As if in answer to his thoughts Will said. 'That bastard Nicholson... Robert Nicholson...'

Clancy's mind screamed in revolt, and he felt a great wave of loss and sadness overwhelm him. He wanted to deny it, to tell Will there was a mistake... but he said simply, 'I should have expected it. Your sister is very beautiful and he... he can offer her much more than I can...'

''E's offered her nothin',' Will said bitterly. 'Apparently he's gettin' married next Spring to some 'igh falutin' lady. 'E's thrown 'er over...'

'What?' Clancy was distressed, and muttered briefly, 'Poor Anna.' He turned to Will. 'Whatever's happened Will, it means Anna is still free... I still love her...'

Will raised a tired face. 'Yo' don't understand Clancy. Anna's in the club. 'Er's 'avin' a babby.'

~

The small back room in Dawkins Street was silent as the grave. Anna found the house oppressive, but had not cared to walk out. Only the gentle crackle of the fire and the slight hiss from the simmering kettle broke the quietness as she sat, mending a shirt of her father's. She seemed unable to shake off the heavy feeling of depression which had descended upon her like a thick blanket. Her unhappiness was broken only by occasional moments of sheer panic, when she forced herself to think about what lay ahead.

Even after confessing all to Will a few days ago, she had been unable to bring herself to tell her father. In spite of the fact that they seemed to be getting along quite well, she was sure he would turn her out once he knew of her condition. Will and Mary had already said that if the worst happened she could move in with them, but they were already overcrowded and Anna hated the thought of putting them to such inconvenience. The worst aspect of all was Anna's dread of the gossip which would undoubtedly surround her. The talk and backbiting would be inevitable once her pregnancy started to show. What a laugh the girls would have, she thought, biting off her thread and surveying her work. The shirt would 'count as one' as her mother would have said, although it would not last much longer.

As usual the thought of her mother brought unbidden tears to sting her eyes, but Anna consoled herself with the thought that at least her mother would not witness her daughter's disgrace.

The girls would certainly enjoy the scandal. "Miss Toffeenose" herself in the club! Ma Higgins had agreed to take her back to make chain, starting Monday, but Anna knew it was likely she would be dismissed as soon as her secret was out. Married women often worked right up to the day before birth, but if you were unmarried it was very different, you were regarded as a sinner likely to corrupt decent people. Anna could well remember seeing small children throwing stones and shouting names at a woman everyone called "Daft Molly".

Anna started as there was a tap at the back door. It could only be Will, and he did not bother to knock. Her face flamed into confusion as the door opened and Clancy came in.

'Oh, there ye are. I thought I'd catch ye, so I did.'

The look of him standing there, solid and reassuring as ever, and the soft sound of his Irish brogue seemed to turn Anna's stomach to water. She began to tremble violently, but managed 'Hello, Clancy,' almost in a whisper.

He came in and sat down in her father's chair. 'You're looking well,' he said conversationally. 'Nice and brown after your holiday.'

Anna looked at him, but it did not seem he was being sarcastic. She suddenly remembered her manners.

'I'm not sure why you're here Clancy, but could I just say... before you say anything... I was really sorry about your mother.'

'Thank you. It was a blessed release for her, at the end.'

Anna nodded, and there was a short silence.

'I... er... I came to talk to you,' Clancy said hesitantly. 'Will told me... about everything... how you're placed...'

'I know.' Anna felt her cheeks burn.

'I think you could have told me yourself,' Clancy said shortly.

'I couldn't! Oh Clancy, I just couldn't! I didn't want to hurt you and I knew I had... and I was so ashamed...' her small outburst ended in a whisper of anguish.

'Well, that's as maybe.' Clancy responded quietly. 'Anyway, I want to hear it from your own lips, not from someone else, even Will, good chap that he is. It's taken me a couple of days to think it over, but that's why I've come.'

'I don't understand...' Anna whispered. 'What... what do you want to know?'

'Everything.' Clancy said firmly. 'Everything that happened to you from the time you left here.'

'But why? What good will it do?' Anna's tone was bitter. 'Knowing everything will only hurt you more than ever, and I've hurt you enough.'

'That's my choice Anna.' Clancy said. 'And you owe me that at least,' he added quietly.

Anna swallowed. 'Alright, I'll try to explain.'

It was difficult at first. She began hesitantly, with details of the journey and her arrival at La Maison Blanche, but as memory came flooding back the telling became easier, and details poured out about life at the farmhouse, Therese, the joy of the cooking she had learned, Sylvie and Alphonse and dear Jacques... the local market on a Wednesday, the hens and the ducks...

As her story progressed, Anna found herself trying to make Clancy understand the feeling of freedom she had felt in France. She tried to explain what she herself now dimly realised, that it was not only Robert, but a whole way of life which had seduced her, intoxicated her so that she suspended her normal judgment. She made no excuses and told briefly but honestly how Robert and she had become lovers. Her story tailed off in a whisper as she told him of Delphine's visit, and how Robert was due to be married in the Spring.

'He ditched ye...' said Clancy bitterly. 'That's what I find so hard.'