A man who cried (15 page)

particular old man.

He continued to stare at her, taking in her face. She was a beautiful woman. Well no, not

beautiful, her nose was too big for beauty, her mouth too wide. Her eyes, too, although dark

brown and deep-lashed should also have been wide in order to qualify for beauty; instead they

were round. And yet they looked widely spaced; but that was the effect of her eyebrows which

curved well beyond the bone formation of the eye sockets. Her skin was pale and in this light

appeared colourless ; but her hair, her hair was another thing, that was beautiful. It wasn’t blonde or flaxen or light brown. What colour was it ? A bit of all three, and she had plenty of it. He just couldn’t place her as that old man’s daughter or as Hilda Maxwell’s sister. Oh no, not as Hilda’s

sister. Not only was there no resemblance in the faces, their figures denied any family connection

whatever. Hilda was short and plump, seeming still clothed in her puppy fat although she was

well past twenty. Homely had been his first impression of her; it still was. But this woman, she

didn’t appear to have any shape to her body : her chest was as flat as a boy’s underneath that

garment, and her

>

92

ankles and slippered feet looked bony, yet her thinness suggested elegance. She looked a woman.

She was a woman; he doubted if she would see thirty again.

”I suppose you know all about me?”

”What!”

”I said I suppose you know all about me?” Her words were spaced.

”No, I can assure you I know nothing about you. I didn’t know of your existence until tonight,

just over an hour ago to be exact; nor of your father’s either.”

”My father? Oh.” She put her hand across her mouth in order to still her laughter and she almost

spluttered as she said, ”You . . . you haven’t . . . you haven’t, have you ?”

”Yes.” He was smiling broadly at her.

”You mean you’ve been along to see my father ?”

”Yes ; I’ve just come from there.”

”Oh! Oh, my goodness! . . . Did he throw anything at you?”

”Only words.”

”I bet.”

She got to her feet now, looked down at him for a moment, bit on her lip, then crossing her arms,

she pressed both hands under her oxters and walked twice up and down the rug that lay between

the couches before she stopped and looked at him again, saying slowly now, ”She must be

feeling low to send for us, particularly me dad. ... I say particularly him, but I am as bad. Oh no, worse; in her eyes I’m a bad woman.” She bent down towards him now nodding her head at him.

”Do you know that? I’m a bad woman.”

”No, I didn’t.” A corner of his lips was pulled up in a onesided smile.

”Well, it’s a wonder she didn’t warn you before sending you out on this errand. But don’t worry,

now she’s brought me into the open you’ll hear the whole tale. Oh dear me !” She straightened

up, bit tight on her lip, put her head back and looked towards the high ceiling as she ended on a

note that sounded like compassion in her voice, ”Poor Hilda!” Then swinging round from him

with the agility that put him in mind of the nicking end of a whip, she was across the room and at

the far door, having said as she went, ”I’ll be ready in two or three minutes.”

He was looking towards what was apparently the open bed-

93

i room door when she appeared again, saying, ”Inpnat cabinet

|! behind you you’ll find some drink, help yourself.”

.:’ j He was on the point of saying ”I’m on the waggon, I’ve had to

ji I be,” instead, remaining quiet he pulled himself upwards from the

I ! couch and went towards the cabinet. Here, opening the doors, he |! I displayed a

double row of bottles and a whisky decanter three-

| quarters full. His hand on the decanter he looked over his shoulder,

i saying, ”I’ll . . . I’ll have a whisky; shall I pour you something ?”

”Same as you.” The voice was muffled and he gathered she was getting into some garment or

other.

He had poured the whiskies and brought them to a small table at the head of the couch on which

he had been sitting when she i?w came into the room again. She was wearing what appeared to

be

a shapeless blue woollen dress. It hardly reached her calves and i was clinging to her body like a

skin. She had a pair of high-heeled

I
shoes in one hand and a dark blue coat over her arm. Sitting down,

U she threw off her slippers, then pulled on the shoes, and when she

I stood up to take the drink from his hand their eyes were on a*Mfc

I ’ level.

I The first swallow of whisky hit the back of his throat and as he

| bent forward and coughed she said, ”You definitely want more

I water with it.”

I | Still coughing and patting his mouth with his handkerchief, he

I I said, ”I’m not used to it, I’ve been on the waggon.”

I ! ”Oh, I can quite believe that. 3 Newton Road’s a T.T. citadel.

I i It had to be with Mr Maxwell, and, of course, Hilda wouldn’t

I ! have had it otherwise. Oh no ; not our Hilda. ... I sound spiteful,

I1 don’t I?”

; ”You must have your reasons.”

”Oh, I’ve got my reasons all right. But on the other hand so has she, and we both think they’re

good ones. Anyway, let’s get going.”

As she went to get into her coat he quickly put down his glass and assisted her and she looked

over her shoulder and stared into his eyes for a moment before saying, ”You don’t look the kind

of fellow somehow to stand a set-up like that.”

He stepped back from her, on the defensive for the moment as he replied, ”I was more than glad

to accept what they had to offer six months ago, I was out of work, had a young boy to see to.”

”Yes, so I heard. Well, the saying is, beggars can’t be choosers

94

. . . and I know something about that an* all.” She did not elaborate on this but went from him

now and switched off the table lamp, saying as she made her way towards the french window,

”We’ll go out this way, it cuts off about a quarter of a mile and that’s something to consider

when you’re walking in high heels. . . .”

”I’ve . . . I’ve got the car outside.”

”Oh. Oh.” She made a deep obeisance with her head/”The car. Well! well! that’s different. But

we can still go out this way.” She switched on an outside light, then pulled back a pair of velvet

curtains, unlocked a french window, and when they were outside again, she relocked it before

saying, ”Round this way. I’ll leave the light on until I get back.”

She was seated in the car and he was about to close her door when she said softly, ”God! but I’m

as nervous as a kitten.”

It was such a change of front that it was a moment before he leaned down towards her and said,

”Nervous? Why?”

”Of ... of meeting our Hilda.” There was that ordinary tone of voice again, the voice that was

wavering between Bog’s End and Brampton Hill.

”Why should you be nervous of meeting her? I should have imagined the boot would be on the

other foot.”

”Oh no.” She gave a tight laugh. ”Our Hilda’s the kind of person who can enlarge your sins

without saying a word, she’s just got to look at you. Even as a child she was the same. Good

people are like that and she’s good at bottom ; you haven’t got to believe all that Dad says about

her. He’d give you the impression that she just took Maxwell because of his business and his

house. But I don’t believe that, well, not all of it. Naturally there was an attraction in that quarter, and I don’t blame her for that. Oh no, it’s no use the kettle calling the frying-pan black. No, I

think she’s one of these people who really tries to be good, but. . . well” she gave another small

laugh - ”they sort of make you uncomfortable doing it. You know what I mean?”

He answered her laugh with a quiet chuckle as he said, ”Yes, yes, indeed, I know what you mean.

But I can only repeat I can’t see you’ve got anything to worry about.”

”Aw, lad” - she was laughing aloud now - ”you know nothing, nothing at all about our set-up.”

He started the car. In some strange way there was rising in him a kind of happiness, it was just a

tinge, a tiny, tiny candle flame in

95

the univetse of sorrow that had been weighing”him down for months. Buried under the gratitude

he owed the Maxwells and under the new security and happiness that Dick had found had

remained the ache left by Alice. Now, for the first time a corner of the pall was being lifted. He

didn’t ask himself how or why.

96

There was a large turn-out at Peter Maxwell’s funeral. As the vicar remarked to Hilda, it was

very gratifying, not only from her point of view but from dear Mr Maxwell’s, for it showed how

highly respected he had been among the parishioners, a good man, in all ways a good man.

Later that evening, when the last well-fed mourners had left and there remained in the sittingroom

only her father and sister and Abel, Hilda repeated the vicar’s words from where she was

sitting on the edge of an armchair. She looked from the small man seated in the chair opposite, to

the tall, lithe figure on the couch, but her accusing glance did not take in Abel as she said, ”He

was a good man. Say what you like, he was a good man.”

”I’m sayin’ nowt against him, lass. He’s gone an’ he’s where the good God pleases at this

minute. Let the dead bury the dead so to speak, that’s my opinion.”

”You never had a good word for him when he was alive, either of you.” She was still looking at

her father.

”What’s past is past.”

”It isn’t in my mind.”

”Aw well -” Fred now wriggled himself up out of the chair, saying in a voice that was much

more natural to him, ”If you’re gonna start on that track I’ll make meself scarce ’cos I don’t want

to bandy words with you the night of all nights. If you want me you know where I am, I’ll come

if you call, but I’m not stickin’ me neb in now, no more than I did afore.”

Hilda had risen to her feet and now she looked towards where Florrie was also making to rise and

with a tremble in her voice, she said, ”I suppose you’re going too ?”

Florrie became still and, looking straight at Hilda, said in a quiet voice, ”Not if you want me to

stay.”

97

, ’

iff

”Please yourself.” As Hilda swung round and went fo precede her father out of the room, she

looked full at Abel, who had not spoken since he had entered the sitting-room ten minutes before,

and she seemed to bring him into the orbit of her small family as she said, ”It’s always the same,

always.”

He made no remark whatever because he couldn’t see how her statement refuted anything that

had been said. It was as if she was expecting him to know the ins and outs of some past family

situation.

When he was alone in the room with Florrie he looked towards her. She was sitting well back in

the couch, her eyes were cast downwards looking to where she was slowly moving the

diamondstudded ring round and round the third finger of her left hand.

He walked quietly towards the fire and stood with his back to it for some seconds before he said,

”She’s upset. It’s natural.”
•••

She raised her eyes to his. ”Yes, it’s natural.”

”Will you stay the night with her?” ;

”Yes, if she wants me to. But it’ll only be for the night . . .-Ir mean she’ll only need me tonight, she’ll be in control of herself” tomorrow.”

”You think so?” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

”Oh yes, yes.” She nodded slowly at him. ”I know so. Huh!” It was that small imitation of a

laugh he had heard her use before. ”I always think that sounds so silly, I know so, yet from time

to time I hear myself saying it. It sounds so pompous, so Godinspired, and I haven’t much time

for God. . . . Are you like -•” She now waved her hand towards the door before adding, ”I mean,

do you keep up a religion?”

”No.”

”Didn’t they manage to convert you ?” : «No_,, - ...... , . , .. ;,

”You must be a strong character.” •• •’•

”Just stubborn.” ’•’•’’

The door opened and Hilda came in the room again and she began to talk immediately, with the

same defensive ring in her tone. ”He doesn’t change, not in any way. You would have thought he

would have bought a new suit, but no, he had to be himself and come in that old grey thing.”

”He’s not flush, you know that.” ”I would have given it to him if he had asked me.” >••

98

”Oh, Hilda!” ’

Now Abel saw a startling change in the tall, elegantly dressed Florrie. Using the same movement

that had caught his attention in her own room, she swung herself up from the couch and seemed

to tower over her sister as she said, ”Ask you for it ! You know he’s never asked either of us for

anything, and under the circumstances he would have died rather than ask you for money for a

suit to go to your husband’s funeral in. Talk sense.”

”That’s it. That’s it, start ! There’s a pair of you. Everything I do is wrong in your eyes, always

has been.”

”There you’re wrong.” Florrie’s voice held a note of deep bitterness now. ”There’s not a pair of

us, there’s a pair of you, because he spoilt you from the beginning, but since you were able to

step out on your own, you’ve treated him like dirt, muck beneath your feet. Anyway, look ; I’m

going, you don’t need me. If I stayed it would only end up in one holy row, and this is not the

night for it.” Florrie’s voice now dropped to an even note as she added, ”Good-night. Like Dad