house of women (10 page)

Or was it before that, from the first day he had come to be interviewed at the house? His wife had died only three months previously, in childbirth. He had looked sad and lost. She had given him tea in the drawing-room, and she had liked his voice and his quiet manner. And she had learned since about his sense of humour and his sense of fairness.

"It... it just slipped out."

He took a step nearer to her.

"Your name slipped out, a long time ago, Lizzie. We ... we've been so polite to each other, haven't we, while knowing all the time? At least I did. What about you?"

"Oh yes, yes."

When her eyelids began to blink and the moisture to ooze from them he turned swiftly and went towards the window and, as he did every night before leaving the office, he let down the Venetian blind;

then, just as naturally, he walked back to her, put his arms around her and said softly, "If he were a different kind of man and I had known you were happy, I should have squashed it at the beginning. I could have done so; I could have moved on. But I didn't, and I know why I stayed. Many a time I've asked myself what I was hoping for, and then quite slowly it came, the look in your eyes, and I felt it might be the same with you."

After he kissed her a long, warm, lingering kiss, she leant against him, murmuring, "Oh, my dear. Oh, Henry, what's going to come of it?"

"Would you divorce him?"

"Oh yes, tomorrow. But I'd have to have grounds, you know."

"Well, we could give him grounds."

"Oh, that's the other side of it; I'm sure he would never divorce me.

If it was only out of spite he would hang on, especially if he had to leave that house. "

"But there are other ways. If you were separated for a certain rime divorce would come naturally;

and I'll wait. I'm used to waiting; as long as I know you're there at the end. There's one thing, though; I don't think I could stand being an assistant to him if your grandmother decided to bring him in here.

Leaving wouldn't worry me. I must tell you' he now tweaked her nose "I had an offer about a month ago from Rankins."

"Rankins?" She pressed herself from him.

"The firm that wanted to buy us out?"

"The very one. They offered me the post of man ager and I turned it down. But I understand they are not very satisfied with their new man.

So, if Len gets the job here I can easily go in a different direction to work. It'll only be a five minutes' longer car ride from my

cottage. And Rankins is a bigger firm than this, you know, and

expanding, so don't think I'll be so very disappointed if your

grandmother decides to move him up. In fact, I think it would be all to the good; he might be more likely to let you go then. "

"Not him! Oh no, he can see the whole business coming into my hands when anything happens to Gran; we'd have to bear the brunt of any divorce."

"Well, my dear, like Barkis, here's somebody ready and willing."

They laughed; then as if it had always been so, they clung together again; and when at last she muttered, "I must get back," he said,

"We've got to make some arrangement about meeting. You won't know my place on the outskirts."

"No, I don't."

"Well, it's some way out beyond Brampton Hill and the new estate. It's a good seven miles from here. It's called Holeman's Rise, a very odd name for a cottage. I usually see to the garden on a Sunday and do a bit of cleaning up. I ... I've never had anyone in since Jane went and it's not as spruce as it should be, but still it's no pigsty; so, do you think you could make your way there some evening or Sunday?"

"I'll ... I'll try. Oh, yes, I'll try."

They embraced again, and she muttered, "Oh, I can't believe this," and he said, "Nor I; but it's true, it's happening."

In seeing her to her car they walked apart, all very circumspect.

"Good night, Mrs. Hammond," he said as he closed the door on her and smiled, while she in her turn said, "Good night, Mr. Brooker." Then she drove away.

She was a girl again. She was in love. She had been in love for a long time; it had been like an underground spring, but now it had burst through. Life looked bright; there could be happiness ahead.

Yes, there could; though there would undoubtedly be trouble, and she was going back to it.

She knew she was right in it as she opened the front door, because there in the hall stood her mother and Peggy. And Peggy, rushing to wards her, said, "He's in the drawing-room with Great-gran. Listen to him. He's been bawling at her." As soon as her mother reached her she said.

"I daren't go in, Lizzie. I know I should, but I daren't. I'm dead scared of that man when he's in a temper, and it brings on my migraine.

I've had it all day... " Be quiet! Mother. " She pulled off her coat and placed it on a chair and went quickly towards the drawing-room door. And as she opened it she saw her husband, his arm outstretched, his finger stabbing towards her grandmother as he cried, " You can't do this, old woman. You won't!

By God! I won't let you do this to me. I've worked there all these years, and . "Len!" Lizzie's voice halted his tirade, and he swung round towards her and yelled at her, "You knew this! You're another one."

"Shut up!" Mrs. Funnell's voice was louder than either of theirs and her face was screwed up in protest. But it brought the silence it demanded. And now, with an effort she spoke normally again, saying,

"She knew nothing about my decision. And I didn't make it today or yesterday, but years ago. Do you hear me, Leonard Hammond? Years ago, when I took your measure as an incompetent, big-headed bully, aiming to be what he wasn't and could never be, a gentleman in any shape or form.

You came into this house under false pretences. And let me tell you, you've been here on sufferance ever since. If it hadn't been for her--' it was she now who stabbed a finger forward towards Lizzie before going on, 'you would have been out on your neck years ago. Yes, Henry Brooker is going to be manager, and if you're wise you'll keep on the right side of him, because I saw him from the beginning as a stronger character than Cartwright and much more capable to run that place. And finally, yes, finally, let me tell you, Leonard Hammond, just you dare to come in here and bawl at me once more, just once more, or if I hear you bawling at my granddaughter, you will have no job and no home, not in this house, anyway. But when you leave it you leave alone. You have thrown your daughter out of your life and, if she's wise, your wife will throw you out. Now I say to you, get out."

Hammond didn't move. Lizzie saw that he couldn't;

he had turned pale and his rage seemed to have paralysed him. His fists were clenched and his arms held out slightly from his sides, and she became

fearful as she saw the look on his face that was directed towards her grandmother. The threat that he had made earlier could well take place at any moment. She walked quickly past him and stood by her

grandmother's side. And now his infuriated gaze was on her.

When at last he turned from them it wasn't as a beaten man. His head up, his shoulders back, he marched from the room; he even closed the door behind him, an action which in itself added to her fear of the moment.

"Lizzie."

She started and looked down at her grandmother.

"Why haven't you got rid of him before? Why haven't you left him? Oh'

the grey hair wagged from side to side now 'what am I talking about? It would have meant you walking out, not him. He'll have to be thrown out of here. And he will, he will be shortly, because I can't put up with him any more. My God! girl, how have you stood him all these years?"

She did not wait for an answer but, leaning back in her chair she let out a long breath, saying on it, "Get me a glass of sherry, will you?"

Her mother and Peggy were still standing in the hall, but in the far corner near the kitchen door, as if they had delayed too long their escape; and Peggy called to her mother: "He's gone out. There ...

there's the car starting." She looked towards the front door.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later," Lizzie said, then spoke directly to her mother:

"Take the sherry in. Mother, will you? Gran's a bit upset," and addressing her daughter again, she said, "Andrew's home. Hadn't you better go and see to the meal?"

"He's having his bath. I was going out to put something in the dustbin and I thought I heard somebody yelling. I... I didn't think it was him. I didn't know he was back; the car wasn't on the drive."

"It's all right." Lizzie put a hand on Peggy's shoulder.

"Stop shivering. Go on. Go on over home."

It was odd, but in her mind the annexe was already cut off from the house- she looked upon it as her daughter's home- yet she had only to step through a door and she was in it.

Before doing as Lizzie had bidden her, Peggy said, "It's about the job, isn't it? He hasn't got it. What d'you think he'll do?"

"I don't know," her mother answered her; "I just don't know. But he'll do something."

He could have a car smash or go into the river. Peggy took a gasping breath: she must stop thinking like this about him; it was dreadful.

She turned away quickly, saying, "Will ... will you come in later, Mam?" And Lizzie answered brusquely, "Yes; yes, later."

izo

Peggy found Andrew standing waiting for her in the kitchen. He looked fresh and smelt clean. He enquired immediately, "What's the matter?

Trouble? "

"Yes. Great-gran's passed over Dad for the management and he's gone nearly berserk."

"Well, he shouldn't be surprised at that; every body in the shop seemed to know that Mr. Brooker was set for it."

"Did they?"

"Oh yes."

For a moment Peggy felt herself on the defensive, and she said, "Well, how could they? Why was that? Dad's been there for years and Mr.

Brooker's comparatively new."

He turned from her.

"Well, you're not the only one that doesn't like your dad. Anyway, what's that lovely smell?" He now pointed to the oven, and she said,

"It's a casserole."

"I'm hungry."

She immediately set about getting the dish out of the oven. She heaped his plate full with the stew and placed only a small portion on her own. And she could not help but feel satisfaction as she watched him eat.

"Is it all right?" she asked.

He raised his eyes and said with emphasis, "Lovely. Lovely. You can cook."

"Mam did most of it," she confessed.

"Well, she showed me how to do it with the herbs and things."

"Is there any left?"

"A little." She scooped the remainder of the stew on to his plate, saying as she did so, "You want to leave a bit of room for the apple pie."

When the meal was finished and he was sitting back in his chair she said, "Do you want to go to the pictures?"

After letting out a long breath, he replied, "Yes and no. Quite candidly I feel too full and tired to move. Anyway, I'd bet you a shilling, within five minutes of getting in I'd slip off the seat and lie on my back, because I seem to spend my life now lying on my

back."

She laughed, then said, "I'm not particular either. Anyway I feel we should be here in case Dad comes back and starts anything."

"Huh! What could we do? What could I do? Stand up to him, hit him?"

She laughed again.

"Well, you could have a try," she said.

He sighed as he said, "He's an old man." Then he added, "I'd like to finish that drawing of the car."

"Oh, go ahead."

So it was that Lizzie, coming over an hour later, saw for the first time his drawing of a car with a model draped across the bonnet. But what intrigued her more was the border, which was made up of izz smaller drawings of all the pieces that went to make an engine.

Lizzie was now looking over his shoulder.

"I didn't know you could draw like that," she said.

"And you've shown all the odds and ends.

You're a quick learner. "

"Well, it was the only thing I was good at at school. Likely I would have taken it further had I stayed on."

"Now if that was in colour it would make a nice poster, especially with a caption."

He looked up at her and said brightly, "Yes. Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" as if this very idea hadn't come to him two nights ago, about both the poster and the caption.

Turning to Peggy now, she said, "He's back. He went straight upstairs.

He's had nothing to eat that I know of. "

"Well, Mam, you wouldn't expect him to come down into the dining-room, would you?"

"Yes, I would. Knowing him, I would. There have been rows before, but he's always liked his food."

"What do you think he'll do?"

"As I said before, dear, you know as much about that as I do. Whatever he does it will be to please himself, you can be sure of that; what he terms the right course. Anyway, we can only wait and see."

Lizzie couldn't understand it. Acceptance in no way matched her

husband's character; yet on the Monday he went to the Works as if nothing untoward had happened. All day she had waited for a phone call from Henry to say that her husband had smashed up the showrooms. But he had returned shortly after five and eaten his dinner. Years ago she had arranged that they had their dinner sharp at six; he would have had only a light lunch at a nearby cafe at noon. Afterwards he went to the Boys' Club. He had for years done two evenings a week at the Boys'

Club, Mondays and Fridays. She could never understand why, of all the hobbies and pursuits he could have taken up, he should give his spare time to a group of boys, but especially these who were mostly from Bog's End and would be a rowdy crew. He had never been fond of

children. She knew he could have done without having even a daughter, and he had certainly seen to it over the years that she herself did not fall pregnant again.

12. By the end of the week her fears had subsided, for he was still acting normally; at least he was keeping to character. She had quizzed Andrew as to how the staff viewed his attitude, and he had said that at least those in the workshop felt he had obviously decided to make the best of a bad job, and that he must have thought it a bad job when Mr.