the maltese angel (4 page)

It was a drizzling rain, and Annie remarked on it: "It's in for the night," she said; 'you'll get sodden. " She now raised her eyebrows, so stretching her longish features even further as she said, " Have you got to go in? "

"Yes, Annie; I've got to go in. But as for asking me what I've got to go in for, well, I'll tell you shortly; and I might do it with a

pleasant grin on my face or, on the other hand, looking at me, you'll know it's better to keep your tongue quiet and not ask questions."

"Like that, is it?"

"It's like that, Annie. Yes, it's like that."

"Well, I only hope she's worth it." She was standing at the wooden sink and looking out of the kitchen window, and she exclaimed, "You won't be goin' this minute, you've got company."

"Who is it?" He went quickly across the room to stand by her side, and when he saw John Mason step down from his trap he bit on his lower lip, and before turning away, he said quietly, "Show him into the

sitting-room, Annie."

"The sitting-room?" Her face stretched again.

"Well, all right, I'll do that; but he's always come straight into the kitchen afore; all of them have. But as you say ..."

She went from him, leaving him again nipping on his lip, this time whilst waiting for Annie's welcome:

"Oh; good evenin', Mr. Mason. Can I have your coat;

you're a bit wet. "

"Is Ward anywhere about?"

"Yes; yes, he is. If you'll just take a seat in the parlour, I'll go fetch him for you."

By the silence that followed Ward could imagine the man hesitating on the invitation to go into the parlour as if he were a stranger.

A minute or so later, on Annie's entering the kitchen, Ward held up his hand to silence anything she might say, then walked past her across the stone-flagged hall and into the parlour.

John Mason was standing with his back to the empty grate, and his

greeting was, "Hello, there. Ward. Oh ... oh, I see you're ready for going on the road. Well, I won't keep you long."

When Ward stood before him, the older man stared at his face, then turned his head to the side before saying softly, "I'm sorry she did that to you. But she was upset. Oh, yes, she was upset... What's come over you, Ward?"

He didn't answer for quite some time, for what could he say to this decent man, a man he had always liked, because he was a fair man in all his dealings. Not so his two sons, at least not so Sep. He had never liked Sep;

he was a big-mouth. And Pete .. well, Pete didn't talk as much, but there had always been a slyness about Pete. Yet the father and mother were the nicest couple you could meet in a day's walk; and so, could he say to this man that he had become obsessed, because that word somehow fitted his feelings, and to a girl to whom he had never spoken and knew nothing whatever about except that she danced beautifully and was

beautiful to look at, yet so fragile?

What he did say was, "I never mentioned marriage to Daisy, Mr.

Mason."

"No, lad; no. Perhaps you didn't mention the word, but all your actions over the past years have sort of implied that was your

intention. To tell you the truth, me and her mother took it for

granted that you would one day match up, because she would have made you a good wife. She knows everything about a farm that is to know; besides which she's a fine cook .. Not much

good with her needle. " A faint smile came on his face now.

"Not like her mother in that way; but you can't have everything. I thought, though, she had everything that you needed, Ward. Oh yes. And I still do."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mason. I am indeed. I'm sorry to the heart to upset you and your wife, because you've both always been very kind to me; and I shall never forget the help you were when both Mam and Dad died. But look at it from my point of view if you can. I've known Daisy all me life. We were like friends. She was ... well, it's a funny way to put it, but she was like a mate to me, as neither Sep nor Pete were."

"Well, if that was the case. Ward, why did you continue to keep company with her and not take up with some other girl in the village or hereabouts? No .. no." Mr. Mason moved his head slowly now.

"Be fair. Ward, there only seemed to be Daisy for you. You took her to the barn dances, you took her to the Hoppings, Sunday after Sunday you used to drop in to tea. Well, that was some time back, I admit, before your people went; but, nevertheless, our house was like your second home."

"That's it, Mr. Mason," Ward put in quickly, 'it was like my second home; you were all too close; too familiar;

there was no . well, excitement. Oh He half turned away now, saying,

"I'm sorry about all this. I keep saying that, but I really am."

"Tell me truthfully, Ward. Just answer me a simple question: have you found somebody else?"

Ward turned now and, facing Mr. Mason again, he said, "You could put it like that, Mr. Mason; yes, you could put it like that."

Mr. Mason now walked slowly past Ward and towards the door, saying as he went, "One could say, this is life, and these things happen; but that's from people standing apart. They are the onlookers, not the ones it's actually happening to. And it's happening to my Daisy, and she's hurt to the core." He stopped, and he opened the parlour door before turning and saying to Ward, "I haven't it in me to wish you harm because I've always imagined you becoming another son, but I would be lying if I said I wish you luck and happiness in your choice,

because, in a way, you've ruined my lass's life. Yes; yes, you have.

Ward.," When the door had closed on him, Ward turned to the mantel shelf and, laying his arm along it, he drooped his head on to it, and as he muttered, "God in heaven!" his fist thumped the wood.

After a moment he straightened up; and now he was looking into the iron-framed mirror above the fireplace, and his reflection was telling him Mr. Mason was right:

he had acted as if he had intended to marry Daisy. He had been utterly thoughtless, at least until a year or so ago when he guessed how things were with her. But still, in the end, perhaps he would have married her if this other thing hadn't hit him, for there would have been this same strong need in him; and it wasn't possible he would ever again come across such an obliging and understanding woman as Mrs. Oswald.

And now he was in a fix, all because he had dropped into The Empire a week ago.

Was he mad? He must be. He had seen the creature only four times. God above! Why was he thinking of her as a creature now? Because she

could be a creature:

on closer acquaintance she could prove to be just a painted doll.

Those bright lights bamboozled people. She could be a slut; most of them were; a lot of them sold themselves to men .. old men, for money and big houses . or titles.

He turned from the mirror, and his gaze now focused on the horse-hair sofa that fronted the hand-made rug set before the hearth, and he

seemed to address it as his galloping thoughts said. Well die only thing to do to find out what she is really like is to wait till after the show's over and speak to her.

He had only once joined the crowd outside, and that had been on

Saturday night. But she hadn't put in an

appearance. The leading lady had come out, and made her way to the waiting cab; and the comedian and the juggler and six chorus girls had come out of the stage door; but she hadn't put in an appearance, and so, left alone on the pavement, he had surmised there must be another way out at the back of the theatre.

But tonight, stage door or back door, he must speak to her and he

would, so what was he standing here for?

When he reached the yard, Billy was coming out of the open barn and, seeing him, called, "I'm having trouble with the youngster."

"Trouble? Why?"

"As soon as he saw Mr. Mason come into the yard he scooted up into the loft, and there he is up against the timbers again as if he was

glued.

An' I can't talk him down. And another thing: I think his back should be seen to; one of those weals is running matter. Would you think

about callin' the doctor on your way to Newcastle? "

"No, I wouldn't think about calling the doctor; unless you want the child to be whipped back to wherever he came from. What's the matter with your head, Billy? You should know Old Wheatley by this time, for, either drunk or sober, he's always for the law, especially where lads are concerned. Spare the whip and spoil the child. He wouldn't give youngsters the light of day until they were ready for work, of one kind or another, if he had his way. You know him. Anyway, I'll have a look at it when I come back ... He seemed all right earlier on."

"Oh, I think he was trying his best to show us he could work. But now he's a bundle of fear again. Could you give him a shout, do you

think?"

Ward drew in a long breath. Already he'd be too late for the

opening;

and so he'd have to stay at the back. Anyway, it wasn't the show he wanted to see, it was her. But it was impatiently he marched into the barn and stood at the foot of the ladder shouting, "Boy! Come down this minute!"

When there was no response, his voice louder and angry sounding, he cried, "I am dressed for the road, and I am not coming up this ladder.

If you don't put in an appearance before I count five you'll be on your way back tomorrow to where you came from. Do you hear me? "

He couldn't have reached three when the small head looked down on

him;

then the thin shanks stepped down slowly from one rung of the ladder to another.

Having reached the floor, he stood with his head down, and Ward,

speaking slowly now, said, "You know what I promised you last night: that you could be here for good, but I want a worker. " He now glanced sharply towards Billy before going on, " And not a lad that skitters into the barn every time a trap comes into the yard. "

The small head came up, and the boy's voice became a stutter as he said, "I I th ... th ... thought he had come for me. He s s ... said he would."

"Who's he? What's his name?"

Again the head drooped.

Ward became impatient, saying, "I'm not going through all this again tonight. Now, listen to me, and finally:

nobody's going to take you back to that place. I promised you. Now go to the house and get your supper. "

As the boy now hurried from them. Billy put in flatly, "He was right to skitter, for you could have the authorities round here if anybody gets wind of him. Well, I mean they would want to know where we got him, and all the rest of it. You know yourself you can't keep anything quiet for long, not round here. In the village your business is their business, at least, so it seems. So, in a way, the youngster was wise to make himself scarce. They all seem to know about what they call the Poor Law Contract; they know they'll be sent back, no matter where they're found, either to the same farm or to the same workhouse. You know yourself what the so-called guardians are like. Remember the

business over at Burnley's farm a few years back?"

"Those boys were mental."

"Aye. If I remember rightly they had escaped an' all; but Burnley kept them on. Then what happened when he was taken up for it? He said if the lads were mental then he was mental an' all; and they should never have been put away as children ... They fined him. Oh, heavy."

Impatient to be gone. Ward hurried from the barn and into the

stables;

and when presently he led the saddled horse into the yard. Billy

called, "She hates the rain. You'll get her under cover, I suppose?"

And at this, Ward turned a look of disdain on the man for whom he had a deep affection, before putting the horse into a trot that turned into a gallop as soon as they left the farm yard; and Billy's remark to the wind and rain was, "He's caught something a poultice won't help."

He couldn't understand it. He was on the pavement outside the theatre looking at the rain-soaked poster on the wall. It was the same as last week's, except for one thing: there was no flying angel across the middle, but over it had been stuck a bill that read:

Laugh With The Lorenzoes, the three sidesplitting maniac acrobats from Spain. Above them and central was the picture of the soprano, with, to one side of her, the big fat woman and the little fat man with their four poodles, and, to the other side, the juggler. Below were the

names of the 'lesser turns', the print getting smaller towards the end of the bill.

But where was the Maltese Angel? Gone too was her picture from the sandwich board that was positioned further along the pavement, He did not go into the booking hall but hurried towards the stage door at the side; and when he saw the doorman standing in the passage-way, he

gabbled, "What's happened? I mean to the Maltese Angel? To ... well, the dancer? "

The doorman looked him up and down, and grinned as he said, "Oh! You here again? Not a night to come out and have your journey for nowt."

"What's happened to her?"

"Oh, she had a bit of an accident. She won't be tripping the light fantastic for a few weeks, I would say. The wire gave way and she hurt her foot."

"Where is she now?"

"Oh; back at her lodgings, I suppose. Yes, that's where she is."

As the spout above him overflowed, Ward stepped quickly into the

doorway, and from there into the hallway to where the doorman had

retreated, only to be surprised by being sharply admonished by the man:

"Here! There's no entrance this way," which succeeded in bringing forth an equally sharp reply from Ward: "I'm not thinking about going in this way, but I'm not going to stand out in that while I'm asking you a question."

The change of note in Ward's voice caused the man to back from him and again to look him up and down, then say, "Well, the answer you'll get to your question will be no; I'm not at liberty to tell you where she's staying. An' you're not the only one this week who would have liked to know that."

"I can understand your position; but I must tell you, I mean the lady no harm none at all."