Pure as the Lily (11 page)

“Is he bad, lass “ It’s his face. “

Did they do anything? “

“They operated. I don’t know what they did, they only... they said’ she gulped in her dry throat ‘they saved his eye.”

“My God! My God!” Mrs. McArthur shook her head.

“And your da. He’s the quietest man in the street; I wouldn’t have believed it. Is it about you, lass?” Tes, Mrs. McArthur. I’m going to have a baby, Ben’s baby. “

“Aw lass! Lass! Well’—Mrs. McArthur raised her eye brows, then shook her head ‘these things happen. I was going to say, it’s God’s will, but I won’t. What are you going to do about the shop, lass?”

“The shop? I hadn’t thought, Mrs. McArthur.”

“Well, it’s Friday the morrow, lass, and people will want their things. You’ve got to keep the business going until Ben comes back.”

“Yes, Mrs. McArthur.”

“Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll go round and see to my lot and then I’ll come back to give you a hand because, my God, there’s a shambles down there.”

“Thanks, Mrs. McArthur.”

“Sit down, lass, you’re almost dropping. Look, I’ll make you some tea afore I go.” 6 8i “Thanks, Mrs. McArthur.” She felt she was going to faint; the child slipped from her arms to the floor but stood close to her knees whimpering.

Mrs. McArthur was bending over her now, saying, Now look, don’t you pass out, lass. Is there anything in the house? A drop of hard? “

There’s some spirit in the cupboard over there. “ She pointed.

When Mrs. McArthur put the whisky to her lips she sipped at it and shuddered, but after she had drunk it she felt less faint.

“I’ll be going now, lass. Will you be all right?”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. McArthur.”

“I’d better tell you, lass.” Mrs. McArthur stood with the door in her hand.

“They’re looking for your da, the polis. They went up home but he was out. Then they went along to your grannie’s, and he wasn’t there. And I think they’ve been to the allotments. I don’t know whether they’ve got him yet. He’ll get into trouble for this; you know that, don’t you lass?” She looked at the kindly woman. She couldn’t say, ^es, Mrs. McArthur,” she just nodded.

she opened the shop on the Friday morning at nine o’clock; the first person to enter was a policeman.

“Can you tell me where your da is, lass?”

“No.”

Til have to look upstairs ‘you can; he’s not there. “

“I’m sorry, lass, but I’ll have to

“You heard what I said, you can.” She lifted the flap of the counter and he passed through. A few minutes later he came down.

“If you know where he is, lass, you’d better tell, ‘cos he’ll be found in the end.”

“If I knew where he was I’d tell you.” And she meant it, because if she knew where he was, and he was alive, a little of the terror might seep out of her.

“It’s a bad business,” he said.

“I’m sorry for you; I’m sorry for you all.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Mr. Tollett’s in a bad way, they tell me.”

She didn’t answer. She knew he was in a bad way, she had phoned early this morning.

“Let’s hope for all concerned he doesn’t snuff it.”

She stared at him, but still made no comment. The shop had never had so many customers all at once since it had been a shop. People who had never spent a penny in it before came in just to look at her, and by the end of the morning she was answering their looks straight in their eyes, and defying them to say anything.

She couldn’t understand the feelings that were in her. Part of her was terrified for her da and the consequences of his act, part of her was sick with anguish for Ben Ben who was so kind and good and part of her was full of defiance, and this was supplying her with a strength, strength to keep the shop going, strength to let them all see she could keep the shop going, and the house going, and look after the child. And when the customers’ eyes, especially those of the women, rested on her stomach, she made herself stare back at them . hard.

And in the afternoon when Mrs. Mulhattan came into the shop and greeted her affably, saying, “Oh me dear, it’s heart sorry I am for you. Aye, trouble, trouble, and him a quiet man who never said a wrong word to a body in his life. It’s good of you to keep things goin’, it is, it is that. Now I’ve brought a bit off me bill. There’s ten shillings; fair’s fair, I’m

not the one to withhold what I owe an’ a man out of action. “ Mary took the ten shillings, nipped back the pages of the ledger, marked it off Mrs. Mulhattan’s account, then wrote on a piece of paper: “ Received from Mrs. Mulhattan ten shillings, balance owing four pounds,” and handed it across the counter to the beaming, flabby-breasted Hannah, who now said, “ Well now, me dear, just a few things to be getting’ on with. I’ll have. “

She got no further before Mary said quietly, “I’m sorry, Mrs.

Mulhattan, I’ve got me orders from Mr. Tollett; you can’t have anything on tick until the bill’s cleared. “ The big woman stared at Mary for a moment, then looked to the right of her where stood a boy with a holey jersey and an empty pop bottle in his hand, then to the left of him where Mrs. Brown stood looking at her. Mrs. Brown was a Nonconformist, a ranter, a woman to be spoken to every day of the week except Sunday, when Mrs. Brown attended Chapel with the other Holy Joes, while she herself went to claim contact with the true God at Mass. Then looking back at Mary, she said, ‘you brazen young bitch, you! Who the hell do you think you are! Give me back that ten bob this minute. “ Til. I’ll do nothing of the sort, Mrs. Mulhattan. And if you cause any disturbance I’ll send for the polls, I will. Georgie! “ She looked at the boy with the bottle.

“Aye, Mary?”

Then she looked back at Mrs. Mulhattan, and now the infuriated woman backed towards the door, and there, with deep eloquence, she exclaimed, “Bugger me eyes! but I’ll see me day with you, miss, and the bastard you’re brewing.”

After the door had banged Mary stood silent for a moment and a shiver passed over her body. Then she looked at the boy, who said, “I wan’-a quarter-a custard creams an’ a bottle-a lemonade, two ounces-a paste, an a quarter-a boiled ham.”

She served him, and put it on the bill, and did not wonder at such an order from a boy with a jersey hanging in threads,

because, although his father had been out of work for ten years, he had a brother still working in the mercantile, and his married sister who lived with them had turned their front room into a second-hand clothes shop.

The business of the shop on this, her first full day in it, the way of living that for years had been all about her, yet had come into vivid actuality for the first time when seen from across the counter, helped her to stem the panic that threatened to make her dash out of the place and to run helter skelter . but to where? To the hospital? or to search for her da?

At seven o’clock she closed the shop and ignored the hangings and rattlings on the door as she put the child to bed. Then she washed herself hurriedly, got into her coat and hat, and was ready to go when Mrs. McArthur came up the back stairs.

“Let them knock, don’t go down,” she said to her, and Mrs. McArthur answered, “Not me, lass. How long are you likely to be?

“It’ll take me a good forty minutes to get there, I may have to wait, and the same back. They likely won’t let me stay. I ... I should be back just after nine.... I’ll... I’ll pay you, Mrs. McArthur, I’ll pay you.”

“Oh, that’s all right, lass; we’ll talk about that later.” Mary now nodded towards the child’s bedroom, saying, “He’s settled down; you needn’t go in unless he cries.”

“Good enough, lass.”

“Make yourself some tea or something.”

“Go on about your business, I’ll see to me self never fear...” When she came to a panting stop outside the ward door and caused the sister to look up from a table in the middle of the ward at which she was writing and say, “You’re too late for visiting,” she walked slowly towards her.

“I... I couldn’t get any sooner. I just wanted to know how Mr. Tollett was. I’ve ... I’ve been looking after his shop and ,.. and the child;

I couldn’t get any sooner. “

“Oh, yes.” The sister now stood up.

“Mr. Tollett? Oh well, you can only stay a few minutes mind. Come along.” She led the way up to the top of the ward, to the last bed, which was ominously curtained, and, pulling the curtain aside, she allowed Mary to pass her, and she said again, very softly, “Only a few minutes, mind.” She was standing above him, looking down on to one eye and a bit of his cheek. The rest of his face and his head was swathed in bandages.

One hand and arm was bandaged to the elbow, but the other lifted towards her, and she gripped it and brought it to her breast as she bent over him and murmured, “Aw Ben. Ben.”

“Mary.”

“How... how you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Oh! Ben, what can I say?”

He was blotted from her sight by the tears spurting from her eyes, and he muttered low, “Don’t, Mary, don’t. I’m all right... better tomorrow.”

She hastily wiped her eyes.

“The shop, it’s all right, I’m keeping it goin’. And David, he’s all right an’ all.”

“Good. Good.”

They stared at each other. She wanted to say something to comfort him, like “Ben, I love you. I’ll... I’ll always love you,” but she couldn’t, not here.

His hand brought hers slowly up to his cheek that now no longer looked brown but deathly white, and there was a faint movement of the muscles below his eyes as if he were trying to smile. She was torn inside by the sight of him. As she bent over him the smell of ether that still hung around him made her feel. sick and faint.

A voice behind her said, “You’ll have to go now.”

She turned and looked at the nurse, then back to Ben.

“I’ll come in the morrow night, but I’ll phone in the morning to see how you are.” She wasn’t saying anything she wanted to say.

He stared at her while she backed from him; and then she

was walking blindly down the ward. When she came to the sister at the desk she stopped and, aiming to make her voice steady, she asked, “Will will he be all right?” and the sister said, “It’s early days yet, but we hope so.”

The following day she had a visit from Ben’s cousin, Annie Tollett, who lived in Wallsend. She was a little woman with a club foot. She had a thin face and thin body, and when she spoke her voice was deep, laughingly deep, almost like that of a man. She came into the shop, saying, “I’m Annie Tollett. I hear Ben’s had a mishap; bad news flies fast. You’ll be Mary. Get out of me way and let me through.” At this she pushed up the flap of the counter and walked into the storeroom, and there they surveyed each other. After a moment the little woman said, ‘you needn’t be scared of me, I’m not going to interfere. Ben’s business is his business and mine’s mine, but I hear you’re going to have his baim. “ Mary stared at the woman. She lived in Wallsend across the river. It was as she said, bad news flew fast. She did not know who had told her and she did not ask; she just said, “If you wait a minute I’ll put the lock on the door and make you a cup of tea.”

“You needn’t bother, I’m quite capable of making myself a cup of tea, you don’t want to lose any custom.... How’s the hairn?”

“He’s ..: he’s all right, he’s in his playpen.”

“Well, I’ll go on up. Come up when you have a minute.”

Mary watched the little figure hobble out of the storeroom and into the yard and disappear through the door that led to the staircase. She was a funny little woman, but not nasty, sharp-tongued but not nasty.

She didn’t look a little bit like Ben though; there was nothing about her to connect her with Ben or his family.

She had just got back into the shop when the door opened and her gran da came in. Her hand went instinctively to her

mouth, and as if she were expecting him to attack her she stepped back and leant against the framework of shelves and waited for him as he came slowly forward.

“When he stood opposite her she saw that he was indeed an old man; he seemed to have put on years since she had seen him on Thursday. His voice, too, sounded broken as he said, “ Don’t look so frightened, hinny, I’m not going to reproach you. “

“Oh Granda!” It was like a soft whimper. She moved towards the counter and put her hand across it, and he took it.

“I’m sorry, Granda “ I know you are, hinny, I know you are The da? Have you seen him? “

“That’s what I’ve come to tell you. They picked him up, I say they picked him up, but he wasn’t trying to run away, he was just bemused.

He had been lying under the slag heap all night. “

Oh, Granda! Granda! “

“Now don’t cry, hinny, don’t cry.”

“Where’ve they taken him?”

To Shields. “

The Polis Station? “

“Aye.”

“What’ll they do to him “ I don’t know, lass. But you’ve got to prepare yourself; he’ll likely have to go along the line, ‘cos he nearly killed Ben. You know that, don’t you? “ She nodded slowly, and, her head deep on her chest, she murmured, “Oh Granda! I feel terrible, terrible, I want to die.”

“It’s no use lettin’ go like that, so don’t talk daft.”

She said now, The ma? Does she know? “

Yes, she knows. “

“Is she going down to him?”

No, lass. Don’t expect you ma to go down. Your grannie and me, we’re going down; and if you get a minute, and you’re down that way, you could go in and ask to see him.

They mightn’t let you, but on the other hand they might. I . I think you should. “ She stared at her grandfather. She wanted to see her da. She wanted to tell him that she didn’t blame him. But how could she tell him that when he had nearly done for Ben, and who knew, as the sister said the next few days would tell, but that it might turn out that he had done for him. She loved her da, she still loved her da; what he had done he had done for her. She was in torment, torn all ways, ‘you should, lass. “

“Yes, Granda, I will, I will.”

“Ta-rah, lass.”

Ta-rah, Granda. “

She put the bolt in the door and went upstairs. The little woman had made tea and was nursing David on her knee, and she asked abruptly, “Have you seen him?” Yes. “