THE CINDER PATH (40 page)

better."

"Mary will be over presently; I called in

home, then rode over." The last part of

her remark was addressed to Charlie and he nodded at

her before getting to his feet, and now she took his

arm, saying gently, "Come on," and looking over her shoulder towards Arnold she added, "We'll be

back. We'll be back, Arnold."

Arnold merely nodded and watched them go out.

Neither of them spoke until they were entering the yard again and then Nellie said, "I... I was afraid

to tell you but I should have; it would have been better than getting a shock like this."

He stopped and, looking down at her, asked

quietly, "Why should this happen to me,

Nellie?" There was no whine in the question, it was more in the nature of a statement explaining that everything that

happened to him was negative, everything.

She brought his hand tight into the fold of her arm as

she answered, "These kind of things always happen

to nice people, Charlie, easygoing, kind, nice people,

they never happen to the smart-Alicks, the rogues,

the cheats, or the wily ones, for instance, to your father or mine. But you are different, Charlie, and-was Her

lips trembled and pressed together for a moment before she continued, "And that's why I love you, because you're so different."

He made no reply, he just stared at

her without speaking, then turned about and walked into the yard where again, looking about him, he asked, "What am I going to do, Nellie?"

"We'll find a way; I've thought it out."

His head came round quickly towards her and although he didn't speak there was a look of resentment on his

face. She had thought it all out, he was to be

managed again, manoeuvred by another woman.

"Come in the barn and sit down," she said softly;

"I want to talk to you."

When they reached the barn she glanced around but there was nothing to sit on, and simultaneously it seemed their

eyes lifted to the platform above on which were scattered the broken bales of hay, and she now smiled at him

as she said, "Can you risk going up into the loft with me for the second time?"

There was no answering smile on his face but he

touched her cheek, then indicated that she should go up the ladder.

When a few minutes later they were sitting side

by side on the straw she said quietly, "I

haven't been idle all these weeks. First thing

I'd like you to know is I'm ... I'm finished, my

discharge is through."

"Good. Good." There was no sound of

enthusiasm in his voice but she didn't seem

to appear to notice for she went on, "And I've

made arrangements to sell my house. It'll bring

a good price, it's got three sitting tenants and

an empty flat. And added to that I have a nice little

bit Aunty left me, together with what I've saved

from my earnings. Now I reckon this will give us a

start both outside and inside the house, and then ..."

"Be quiet! Nellie. Don't be silly.

Don't talk

rot. You know I couldn't start again on your money."

"Now! now! Charlie MacFell, don't you come

the English gentleman with me." Here was the old

Nellie talking. "What do you think you're going to do with your life? You've got to have work, some kind of work, everybody has. And you've got more than most to start

with; you've got land and a farmhouse and buildings, all you need is stock, and I'm going to buy that stock

whether you like it or not. We're going to buy that stock because what I have is yours, Charlie." Her voice

lowered now. "You won't be able to stop me no matter what you say. . . . And don't try, Charlie.

Oh, please don't try."

Slowly he turned and looked at her and, taking

her hands within his, he said, "You remember

Slater?"

"Yes . . . Ginger, the one that became a

sergeant and put you through it."

"The same. Well, he told me years ago that

I was a loser, and I didn't believe him, and the

minute before he died he again told me I was a

loser, and still I didn't believe him, but I do today

because Betty has proved it."

"Oh! Charlie. Charlie. You're not, you're

not . . . you're just easygoing and quiet and . . ."

"Shut up, Nellie, and listen to me." He

shook the hands within his. "There's some things you know about me but there's a lot you don't. I'm not easygoing

and quiet. I am lazy and weak-willed and

vindictive. . . . Nellie, I shot Slater

dead. Do you hear? I shot him when he was

practically defenceless. He had a gun but he

wouldn't have used it on me, he just used his tongue, and I took my revolver and at point-blank range

I fired into him."

When he felt her hands jerk within his, he said,

"Yes, I know how you feel, you're shocked, this

isn't what the easygoing, soft Charlie would do, it

isn't what any selfrespecting officer would do, but

I did it, Nellie. I did it."

Her lips were trembling when she said, "Then there must have been a good reason, Charlie."

"Yes, I suppose in a way there was, but as

I see it now not enough reason to shoot a man dead.

I should have left that to the Germans."

"Then . . . then why did you do it?"

He still held on to her hands, while keeping

his face turned away from her, and he looked down

on to the floor of the barn and out into the yard, and in his mind's eye he was going through the alleyway and on to the cinder path. He saw himself standing there again watching his father draw blood from the skinny undersized red-headed boy. He saw the thin body bouncing on the cinders.

He closed his eyes before turning his head once again

towards her and saying, "It all started out there on the cinder path."

"The cinder path? You mean the road that runs down to the burn?"

"The same."

"What has that to do with it?"

"Everything, everything."

Now in a quiet resigned tone he went on

to tell her about young Polly and big Polly and the

outcome of his father's decision to introduce him

into manhood. He took her through the years

of blackmail both he and Arthur suffered at the

hands of Slater, then the long agony of his term under

Slater, and how it was ended by being given a commission.

The only time he stumbled in the telling was when he

described why he had been

given a commission, and when he came to the scene in the trenches his voice faltered as he ended, "The

humiliation was too great, Nellie. I... I

thought I had achieved something, I was a lieutenant

in command of men whom I knew respected me, and then

he took the ground from under my feet more surely than

any shell could have done when he told me my

appointment had been rigged. And what was worse, I

knew that every word he said was true and that I'd known it from the beginning, but the truth was too much for me. ...

The most frightening thing in life, Nellie, is to come

face to face with yourself, and in that moment I couldn't bear it, and so I fired."

"Oh! Charlie. Charlie!" Her arms were around

him, her lips were covering his face, his brow, his

eyes, his cheeks, and when they came direct on his

mouth she held him tightly, so tightly that as they

had done once before they overbalanced and fell on to the straw, and all the while she was muttering, "Oh!

Charlie. Charlie!"

"Nellie! Nellie!"

Their faces were wet, their tears were mingling.

"Oh! Nellie. Nellie!"

He had been warned, no mental excitement, no

real physical exertion, if it moved to the right!

"Oh! Nellie, my love, my love."

It would be a good way to die. Oh! Nellie,

my Nellie.

He was loving a woman, really loving a woman;

he was not struggling with a tigress, he was the master, the man, and he was loving a woman, his woman.

"Nellie! Nellie! Nettie! Oh

Nellie!"

He had climbed the mountain and the sky was still high

above him. He reached up into it and embraced the

ecstasy and at the height of heights he was pierced

through with pain. It came and went like the prick of a needle, but he experienced it, and he was conscious that he experienced it.

He came down from the mountain bearing her in his arms

and together they lay down on the straw.

Still clinging close, they lay in the great silence of

peace and fulfilment and stared at each other.

He had killed his enemy, he had loved a

woman, really loved a woman for the first

time in his life, and death had moved in him but had

taken a turn to the left. What more could a man

want to begin again?

THE END

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