Road to Berry Edge, The (16 page)

She didn't answer, she wasn't even looking at him. Harry had a great desire to smack her face.

‘Well?' he demanded.

When she still didn't answer, Harry got to his feet. Faith actually left her chair and retreated a step or two. Harry was angry and he didn't understand why. She was an old maid. Nobody would ever want her, nobody would ever marry her. She would go on fussing with her small life, filling her days with Chapel teas and Bible meetings forever. Why should he try to change that? Socially she was far beneath him even if she didn't know it.

She looked as though at any moment she was going to turn and run for the door, not like a woman of thirty. In Harry's world women of thirty were fashionable and sophisticated, married to powerful men, running households, having children, talking of art and literature and music. Sarah had been like that. How strange it must be for Rob to come back here and be faced with this plain, diminutive woman who was holding her hatred of him because she had so little else in her life. She spoke of John Berkeley as though he was still alive, and her speaking of him kept him alive in her mind.

‘Faith doesn't have to go with us,' Rob pointed out softly.

Harry had sense enough to say nothing before her mother came back in with the tea tray. As they walked slowly across the road some time later he said, ‘I've been turned down for another man, I've been turned down for another day, but I've never before been turned down for a Chapel tea.'

Rob smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘You have to come to Berry Edge for some things,' he said.

*

That Sunday, after Rob and Harry had come home for the big meal, Harry went to the churchyard. There was Faith, tidying up and putting greenery on John's grave. It was cold and wet; the trees in the churchyard dripped.

She looked up but she didn't speak to him, just went on with what she was doing.

‘Will you let me apologise?' he said.

‘I don't think so.'

Harry stared across the wet foggy day. Leaves were still there from the autumn winds as though an unseen hand had stuffed them down beside each gravestone.

‘Are you going to hate Rob for the rest of your life?' he said.

‘I don't hate him any more.'

‘You must. You couldn't treat him so badly if you didn't.'

‘You … you have no idea how difficult it is. He looks now exactly like John. When I see him I think it's John, only it never is. John was a good man, the best I ever met. He was a good Methodist. He didn't drink or smoke or— or chase women.'

‘You can be a good man and still drink, smoke and chase women,' Harry said. ‘Will you come for a walk?'

‘It's not much of a day for walking.'

‘What could be more depressing than a graveyard?'

‘I don't find it depressing.'

‘No, of course you don't. Your whole life is buried here; not only your past, but your present and your future. If you could take your meals here, no doubt your life would be complete.'

‘You don't have to stay,' Faith said.

‘Come and walk just a little. I want to talk to you.'

Faith finished what she was doing and they set off up the hill towards the park. Even in this weather, Harry thought, the park was congenial. It had been carefully planned, with so many different kinds of trees all set out to best advantage, that even bare of leaves the trees were still interesting.

‘How are you? What have you been doing?'

‘I'm fine. I went to Chapel this morning. Do you go to church?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

‘I wasn't brought up to it, my father doesn't believe in God. He's essentially a scientist, I think.'

The park was deserted.

‘I've never met anyone who didn't believe in God. Isn't he afraid of there being Hell?'

Harry laughed.

‘He's completely fearless. I admire him more than any man I ever met. I'm very proud of him, and he's honest. Don't you think God would forgive an honest man? He's not afraid to die so he has nothing to fear. Do you think God will forgive you for hating Rob?'

‘I can't help it.'

‘You could tell him that you have.'

‘It would be a lie.'

‘Faith, he has been carrying this guilt around for ten years now. Surely, you could manage among your personal feelings a little deception on his behalf.'

‘I have no idea what you're talking about.'

‘Yes, you do. Don't give me that “I'm a woman and I don't understand” kind of shite—'

‘Harry!' Faith said.

‘Oh come on, Faith. Tell him you forgive him. What is it benefiting you? Try and be nice to him. You'll get it back tenfold, people always do with him.'

‘I couldn't.'

They were standing under a tree. Harry had doubted the wisdom of this to begin with, and now it was steadily dripping icy water down the back of his neck. He moved forward out of the way and Faith, who was standing in front of him, moved back almost against the tree. To Harry's astonishment, as he looked at her he began to wonder what
it would be like to kiss her. He couldn't understand his reaction. For years his mother had been trying to find a girl he liked. The truth was that he liked them all.

At twenty Faith would have been very pretty, but in Nottinghamshire society there were dozens of pretty girls. She was thirty and had lost her looks. She was religious and she had a flat, northern voice. She was unworldly, uneducated, she didn't even like him as far as he was aware. He couldn't understand himself. He turned away slightly in confusion so that he would stop looking at her mouth, and told himself it was just that here he was nobody and Faith didn't like him, whereas at home he was rich and eligible and could have anybody; her disliking him had needled his pride, that was all it was.

‘Rob's changed,' Faith said. ‘I couldn't believe it when I saw him. I couldn't believe that he was the same careless young man.'

‘He isn't. How could he be? He lost everything when he left here - but he came back, Faith. Surely you can forgive him because he had the courage to come back. He didn't have to. He made a new life for himself and it's sitting there waiting for him any time he chooses to leave here. This isn't his world any more. He came back for his parents' sake, but he won't stay. You should have left.'

‘I don't want to leave. It's not just because of John. This is my home. I belong here. I like being somewhere that I know people. I've lived here all my life. Don't you feel like that about Nottingham?'

‘No. I don't care about things like that. Only people. Will you accept my apology now?'

Faith smiled a little.

‘Yes.'

‘And you'll have tea with us?'

‘All right.' They turned and began walking back down the hill through the park.

Spring came slowly to Berry Edge. Rob had forgotten. He had thought that his father would get better as the weather warmed, but he did not. Rob and Harry spent their time at work.

They were comfortable at home now, and it was just as well, because at work things got better very slowly. The men didn't like Rob because the works had been left for so long to go down. They were not in the habit of changing their ways and took slowly to his new and strange ideas, to new machinery, to new bosses.

They liked Harry better because he joked and laughed and remembered their names, and also because they realised that he knew what he was talking about. He admired their work, encouraged them, and Rob was happy to let him do this while he did the difficult parts and the men went on hating him.

The orders began to come in. Many of the office ways were reorganised. Rob employed women there. He found them capable and quick, and glad of the work.

The window in Rob's office looked into the works. He could see from there quite a lot of what was happening without actually going in and interfering. The place was very big, so there was also quite a lot that he couldn't see. He had taken on a number of men at the different mills to manage them, and although the works was so big it made
him feel in touch. He hoped that it made the new men think that he might just be keeping an eye on them. In fact he sent Harry around to all the various workplaces. It was better than going himself because Harry was a stranger, good with people, even sounded different. Rob realised almost from the first that Harry was beginning to like the place rather as he had liked it when he was fifteen and had worked there alongside all the others.

Rob went often to the pits which were owned by the works. Sometimes at the Diamond Pit he saw Michael McFadden. Michael behaved as though they had never met. Rob had learned to do the same. The memories of his childhood were tarnished now, all tinged with Michael lying on the floor of the Station Hotel where Rob had so efficiently put him. Rob knew also that the men were aware of what he had done and that it had done him no ill in their eyes. Every day in this place he had to prove that he was not soft. They didn't admire him for his mind, for his new ideas or his methods. They despised the men he put to be masters over them.

Rob wore old suits when he went to the works and to the pits. He spoke curtly and walked tall. He wasn't as big as Michael but luckily he was quite a bit bigger than most of the men. That made it hell in the pits, but was very useful otherwise. He could not be friends with any man, not even the managers. They were frightened of him and he knew it. They called him Mr Berkeley and were respectful - to his face. He knew very well that in the pubs of Berry Edge at night they called him other things, but it worked.

He went out all over the country for work and he sent Harry too in other directions. He sold the goods far and wide, he provided work and he interfered in the lives of his employees - as he would have despised his father or any man for doing before now - because if the steelworks was to succeed, everyone had to co-operate in every way. If they didn't come in when they should, he penalised them,
and then if it continued got rid of them. If there were serious disturbances he had them thrown out of their houses. If they quarrelled he had it stopped. He was involved with the shopkeepers, the churches, the schools, he organised outings for the children, he sat on committees, he gave orders, he went to the mines and into the various shops and mills at work and he watched carefully. When the managers made mistakes, he took them aside in an office and gave them the kind of treatment that he had learned from Vincent. He had seen pure hatred in their eyes. Only late at night in his room did Rob stop being that man, and only on Saturday nights in Susannah's arms did he give in completely.

His father was not well that spring and his mother was too busy to see to the house, so Rob told Nancy to take on a third maid, and put her in charge. He gave her more than enough money to do so, and was amused at how carefully and economically she ran the household. She liked it, he could tell that she did. The only thing they both agreed that wasn't satisfactory was the fact that she was not there on Sundays. Rob and Harry contrived to be out most of the weekend so it was not a big problem. Nancy said again that she ought to be there to supervise the Sunday dinner.

‘I think your children are more important than the dinner,' Rob said flatly.

He and Nancy were in the sitting room. Rob had been doing paperwork in there, since his mother was upstairs mostly. It was truly spring at last. The flowers were lifting their heads in the garden and the sunshine was actually warm through the window. It was Saturday afternoon, Nancy had come over especially to see Rob even though he told her it wasn't necessary. She liked the responsibility of making sure everything was going well in the household.

‘Theresa doesn't get the dinner right, Mr Shaw says,' Nancy insisted.

‘Mr Shaw has spent his whole life complaining,' Rob said, ‘just ignore him.'

‘Was the money correct, sir?'

Every week Nancy asked this about the expenditure. Rob had never yet looked at it.

‘Nancy, it's fine, it always is.'

‘You wouldn't know. You haven't set eyes on it,' she accused him.

‘I don't think I have anything to worry about. Are the children well?'

‘Yes, sir, grand.'

‘What's your house like?'

‘Sir?'

‘Your house. Come and have a look at this.'

Nancy went over to the desk and on it was some kind of drawing.

‘New houses. We're starting them this week now that the weather's better. They're long overdue.'

‘I like the one I've got. It's near.'

‘Yes, but if you could move into one of these, then have your old house done up so that it was really nice, and then move back, how would that be?'

‘I can't see anything wrong with that. I like my neighbours, I don't want to move any place. We're near the shops and the school and the church. I like it.'

‘They're not good houses, though, we can do better.'

‘You are doing better, sir, you're doing grand.'

He hadn't realised that he was in need of reassurance, but Nancy had obviously sensed it.

‘I hope I'm not this transparent when I'm at work,' he said, smiling ruefully.

Nancy walked home in the half light. Sometimes she found it difficult to reconcile the man whose house she ran with the man who ran the area, and he did run it. He was putting the wind up a lot of people in a lot of ways. At home he was courteous, generous, even gentle
and funny sometimes, but Nancy knew very well that Rob was a different person outside the house. She was loyal to him, she didn't discuss him with anybody, and she could have. She could have told the whole of Berry Edge many secrets which Rob and Harry had, because they were less than discreet.

She had to protect them from gossip, and tried her best, but it was difficult. She had told the other two maids that if she heard anything which she thought had come from them, they would be sacked straight away.