A man who cried (25 page)

the armed forces ; and the Saturday night hops held there were patronized not only by those who

could dance without the stimulation of intoxicating drink but by non-teetotallers too because ”the

eats” were invariably good and plentiful. This abundancy in these very stringent times was

rumoured to be the result of a friendship between the quartermaster at the adjoining barracks and

a certain lady member of the church. Of course this was only a rumour. Some said it was the

miracle of the loaves and fishes over again. And who was going to question such a miracle in

these days ? Not even the other lady members of the church committee, not when the miracle

provided

!59

«c

them with pats of butter, quarter pounds of cheese, and «Iried fruit now and again; and as long as

the miracle in the form of Quartermaster Dickinson didn’t get posted the Dorset Street rest-room

would continue to be popular.

Abel stood now just within the doorway of the hall and looked to where lines of linked couples

were doing the Lambeth Walk to the accompaniment of the blaring quartet.

At the far end of the room he saw Hilda standing talking to the Reverend Gilmore. He often

wondered if she made for him or he for her, for on most Saturday nights he would see them

standing together chatting. She was already dressed for the road and he could detect a look of

impatience on her face as she waited for the dance to finish, because Dick and Molly were still

stepping it out at the end of a line. Dick had one arm around Molly’s waist and the other around a

young woman in uniform. He was evidently enjoying himself, as was Molly. He was glad Molly

was having a good time because that lass was living in a cage. He wished she were a little

younger or Dick a little older, or Dick a little taller and she a little shorter. Still, what was four years difference ? Not as noticeable really as the three inches between them. It was a pity the lad

had never seemed to sprout up; and there certainly wasn’t much hope that he would now.

The music stopped, and the line of dancers to which Dick and Molly were attached was only a

few feet away from him when as though with a final fling Dick, his arm still about the two girls,

swung them round so that the three of them stopped in front of him, all laughing.

”Enjoyed yourselves ?”

Abel looked towards Molly as he spoke. Her face still wide with laughter, she answered, ”Oh

yes! It’s been a grand night.”

Abel now looked at Dick, who had released the young woman and was laughing loudly; then his

attention was drawn to the young woman herself, she was looking full at him, she had stopped

laughing but her mouth was still wide open even while her eyes were narrowing; then as if she

had just made a discovery which she had - she thrust out her arm, her finger pointing, and said, ”I

know you. Of course, I know you.”

Abel’s face became straight and he said quietly, ”You do ? Then you’ve got one over me.”

”Don’t you remember me? Not at all?” Her voice was high.

160

”No I’m afraid I don’t.” As he spoke he was aware that Hilda had joined the group and that the

Reverend Gilmore was at her

side.

”The boat, on the river.” The young woman was now standing close to Abel looking into his

face, her own bright with discovery. ”I’m Daphne. You remember? Mother and the boat. And . . .

and don’t tell me” - she turned now towards Dick ”you must be ... Why yes ! Do you know I felt

that we had met before; something -” She shook her head. ”Well I never! After all these years.”

Dick’s face too was straight now, and his shoulder began to jerk. His mind was groping at the

memory of the young girl; he couldn’t place her with this well-built young woman.

Abel was conscious that Hilda’s eyes were boring into him like screwdrivers, yet he hadn’t

looked towards her; nor did he now when he said, ”How is your mother?”

”Oh.” The young woman gave a high laugh. ”Oh, she eventually hooked a man; but as I

remember she took some time to get over you. I also recall that she turned the boat round and cut

our holiday short the morning you left. What you doing now ? You live hereabouts.” It wasn’t a

question but a statement, and he nodded his head once; then turning and looking at Hilda for the

first time he said, ”This is my wife.”

”Oh. Oh, pleased to meet you.” The girl held out her hand, but it was decidedly seconds before

Hilda raised hers towards it. Nor did she make any comment whatever when the young woman

said, ”We’ll have to get together and have a chat, and about this husband of yours. . . . You

know, he could have been my stepfather.” She dropped the hand; then looking fully at Abel, she

said, ”Pity you weren’t,” then quickly turned again to Hilda and added, ”No offence meant.” No

one spoke, and so lamely she said, ”Well, I’ll be seeing you some time. I ... I often drop in here;

just stationed down the road. Be seeing you some time, eh ?” She was speaking to the four of

them now and she took two steps backwards before turning about and crossing the now empty

floor towards the refreshment counter.

”I’ll get my things.” Molly’s voice was small, and when she moved away from the group Dick

followed her.

The Reverend Gilmore, face solemn now, turned to Hilda and in a voice in which he might have

intoned a sermon from the pul-

161

pit he said ”Good-night, my dear, and thank you once more £6r your kind help. I don’t know

what we should do without you.” It might have appeared that Hilda was too full for words

because she made no reply whatever, she merely inclined her head towards the vicar, then went

quickly to the door, pulled back the blackout and pushed through into the blackness of the porch,

and there she stood waiting.

It was only seconds later when Abel joined her and immediately she swung her dimmed torch up

into his face and demanded, ”What was all that about?”

”Just what you heard.” His voice sounded slightly weary. ”Well, by the sound of it, what I heard

indicated that you were having a carry-on with a woman on a boat.”

”I was having no carry-on with a woman on a boat. She offered to give the boy and me a lift in

return for my help.” ”Well, and did you help her ?”

”Yes ; yes, I helped her. I got the boat through a lock, I swilled the decks, I did what a crew man

usually does. I was only three days on the boat altogether.”

”Really!” She drew the word out. ”Then all I can say, you must have been a fast worker.”

”No; she was. And now for the rest of the story.” His voice low, he turned and hissed at her, ”She

wanted me to marry her. And she wasn’t the only one who was in the marrying mood around that

time, was she, eh? Was she, Hilda?”

Before she could make any retort to this the door behind them opened and two people emerged,

and the man, swinging his torch, said, ”Oh, hello there. It’s you Mrs Gray. Good-night. It’s been

a good one, hasn’t it?”

She made a sound in her throat and the man hesitated before stepping out from the shelter of the

porch and, his voice now low, saying, ”I was very sorry to hear of your sister’s trouble. Hard

lines him catching it like that. This war! Oh, this war! . . . Goodnight.”

There was silence for a moment during which Abel screwed up his face in perplexity; then he

was holding her by the arm. Gripping it tightly, he swung her towards him and brought his face

down to hers and, unseeing, he stared into it and demanded, ”What did he mean, your sister’s

man catching it like that ?” When she didn’t answer he shook her and said, ”Do you mean

162

to say that something’s happened to Peter Ford and you’ve never

let on?” The door behind them opened again and Dick and Molly came

out.

Abel, still holding Hilda’s arm, led her towards the van. The torches flashed dully and they all

took their seats in the van without exchanging a word. . . .

In the garage yard Molly said, ”Good-night, Mrs Gray. Goodnight, Mr Gray,” and they both

answered flatly, ”Good-night, Mollv.” But Dick said nothing. Turning, he walked with Molly out

of the yard, along the road, and towards her front door.

Back in the yard, Abel had put the van away and having closed the garage doors he stood for a

moment hesitating, then looked at his watch. The illuminated pointer said five to eleven. He

hesitated again only a moment now before hurrying towards the kitchen. Hilda wasn’t there. He

went into the hall where he found her standing in front of the mirror stroking her hair down, and

without any preamble he said, ”I’m asking you again, what happened to Peter Ford ?”

Now she rounded on him, her body bristling with temper. ”He went down with his boat three

weeks ago, if you want to know. And why didn’t I tell you ? Well, you’ve got your answer

tonight: that girl remembering your carrying-on with her mother on the boat; and then that other

woman who was supposed to chain you up. You’re woman mad. That’s what you are, you’re

woman mad.”

For a moment he stared at her open-mouthed, then he shook his head and his voice was strangely

quiet as he replied, ”And you know what you are, Hilda? You’re a woman with a distorted mind,

an insanely jealous, distorted mind; and you’ve never made anybody happy, me least of all. And

you’re jealous of your sister because she’s the -” He seemed to be searching for a word. His eyes

blinked, his mouth worked, and then he brought out, ”The antithesis of you. Yes, yes, yes” - he

bounced his head three times, his voice loud now - ”she is the opposite in all ways from you:

she’s a woman who loves and is loved in return, and if she’s had twenty men she’d still be purer

in mind than you are.”

”Oh! Oh!” Her mouth was quivering, her eyes were full of tears, and now she cried brokenly,

”You see ... you see, you give yourself away. There’s another answer to why I didn’t tell you,

163

because you would have been round there like a shot.” I*

”Yes, you’re right; and I’m going round there like a shot this minute. Now just sit and worry

about that, and pray. Oh yes pray,- pray that nothing happens between us.”

When she closed her eyes tightly he swung round from her and went through the kitchen and out

through the door, banging it behind him.

It was only five minutes’ walk to the post. He went through the schoolyard and into the school

and to the room used as a duty room for the wardens. There were four men in the room; one was

writing at a desk, one was making tea, the other two were sitting talking. Each looked up and

said, ”Hello there, Abel” and he answered ”Hello” ; then going to the desk he looked down at

* ’Henry Blythe, the potter, and said, ”Do you think you could spare me a half-hour, Henry, I’ve

just heard that my sister-inlaw’s man’s been drowned and I’d like to slip along?”

”Yes, yes, Abel, of course, there’s nothing much doing tonight, at least I hope not.” He grinned.

”Anyway, if the siren goes you can always scoot back. Is it very far?”

”No, not five minutes’ walk away.”

”All right. Take your time, there’s nothing spoiling, you’d just be taking calls the night anyway.

By the way, you’ve never been along for the last fortnight or so; nothing for the kiln?”

”Yes, I’ve got one or two bits but I’m working more on some of those little ducks. The owner of

the hardware shop in Cable Street says he can sell as many as I can do but he doesn’t seem to

want anything else but ducks.”

They both laughed. ”Well, perhaps he’s got something there because they look lifelike, real. If

you made them bigger you could sell them as decoys.”

”So long.” Abel nodded from one to the other of the men and went out; then he almost ran from

the school to Brampton Hill.

What if she was in bed? No, no, she wouldn’t be in bed; just after eleven, more likely she was

out. He hurried up the drive and round the side towards the garden flat, but he stopped before he

reached the french windows. He should have gone through the hall and rung the bell, he might

frighten her if he knocked on the window. He couldn’t see a vestige of light. Perhaps she was in

bed after all. Or again, perhaps she had a very good blackout.

164

He walked slowly towards the windows and when he heard the faint sound of music he drew in a

sharp breath. The wireless was going. His hand went slowly out and tapped on the pane.

He waited, but there was no response to his knock. Again he tapped, a little louder this time; and

now he knew it had been heard because the music stopped.

”Who’s there?”

”It’s me, Abel.”

There was silence, the blackout didn’t move aside, the door didn’t open, and so after a moment

he said again, ”It’s me, Florrie, Abel.”

There was another pause, and now he saw the curtain lift and a hand come round and turn the key

in the doors, and when one door was pulled open he squeezed in between it and the curtain. Then

he was in the room and standing close beside her as she pushed the blackout into place again.

It was all of eighteen months since he had last seen her. It was shortly after the war had begun.

They had met in the street and she had said jauntily, ”How goes it ?” and he had answered, ”Not

too bad. How goes it with you ?” And to this she had replied, ”It goes very well, I was married

last week.”

He hadn’t spoken but just looked at her, and she had laughed as she said, ”Don’t look so