The Secret Journey (56 page)

The two brothers were standing at the bottom of Hatfields, Occasionally a passing neighbour waved his hand to Anthony. That was the lad who had the accident. The other one was he who always went out the back way when it was dark. Yes. Nobody had seen him in broad daylight. But Anthony was different, of course; they nodded to him, ‘Good-day, home again?' to which he replied, ‘Hello, Mister, how are you?' Then he turned to his brother. ‘We must have a talk over things this evening. You know I had a long letter from Mother. She's got some funny ideas lately, don't you think so?' he said, laughing. ‘She wants me to stop at home. I mean, to work ashore. Easier said than done. What good would I be working ashore? Besides, I don't want to. I'm quite happy where I am. But tell me, why did you give it up? When Dad wrote me he said you were delighted with the job. And now you've chucked it all up. But why? Look here, Peter, all the things Mother says aren't sensible ones. Don't you think it's unfair to be taken away from your job, especially if you are happy there? You see, I've been at sea since I left school, and now she wants me to give it all up. What d'you think about it?' He kept looking at his brother's soft hands.

‘At first I thought what you are thinking now. Father's to blame for this. Didn't he clear off once before, before we were born? Desmond was the bread-winner then. And yet—yet—you know, Mother does feel lonely. You see, Anthony, that's why I swallowed the anchor. She looked so sad, so miserable. You're like Dad, you see so little of what goes on here. Besides——'

‘And what does go on?' asked Anthony, fixing his eyes upon his brother. ‘What does go on? Why has the old chap been packed off so suddenly? Was that Mother or was it Aunt B.?'

‘I don't know. That's their business. Mother daren't tell me everything she's going to do. I'm going to be pretty straight with you, brother Anthony. You were right, quite right. I'm not made for any priesthood. All right. I got out of it. But what happened? I felt absolutely lost. And all the fine friends turned away. I don't speak to anybody now—go to another chapel—so does Mother. She's ashamed too, you see! You understand how awkward my position was? It couldn't have been worse. I jumped at the idea of going to sea. Jumped at it. I was glad to get away from home. Glad to get away from all those staring neighbours—but most of all to get away from the house. It might make you laugh, but it's a fact—I'm scared of Mother! I'm different from you—different from everybody. She smothered me in affection. All to get her own way. And now she's done it again. Instead of saying, “No, I'm off,” I said nothing. I gave in! She bent me again! But really she is lonely. It's one of Mother's great pleasures just having us at home—she thinks everything of the home. Can you blame her? I can't. I can see things better now. And all the women in Hatfields must be the same as her. It's their world, they live there—it's everything. But haven't you noticed how she's changed? One time she used to rule everybody—the house—even Father. She doesn't do that now. She almost kneels down to you, bows and cringes. Well, I'm on something else. How long I'll be at it is another thing. I suppose I'll be chopping and changing about until I find what I like. Now, somehow, I don't care very much. I don't want to be anything. I even envy you who hasn't had his brain turned soft by the stuff I've had to swallow! But I kept vomiting it all up. My head's getting clearer now. Hell! I wish I was like you. But I'm not. I'm dissatisfied. I hate living in Hatfields. Mother doesn't, I'm certain of it. I even believe she likes it.'

‘Is that a nice thing to say?' said Anthony. ‘Is it? D'you think Mother's content just stuck in that bloody old house?'

‘She'll always be there, Anthony! Always. Nothing we could do would make her go. She's rooted there. Anyhow, it's hardly worth while making a break at her age. All she wants now is to see us going off to work and coming home—getting our meals, washing our clothes, feeding us, seeing we go to chapel! That's all. Very simple, isn't it? And this will go on till she dies. She doesn't seem to miss Dad, and maybe he's not worrying overmuch. He never did if I know anything. The home's broken up, it won't ever be the same again, but Mother thinks it will. She's crazy. Quite crazy.'

‘I know, of course,' said Anthony, ‘that being at sea is a good thing. I can see what it's going to be like if I stay ashore.'

‘She's certain you will. She's hanging on to that idea. And if you do, if we're both here—then she won't care much whether Dad returns or not.'

‘Aye!' said Anthony, spreading out his legs, and digging his hands into his pockets. ‘Mother thinks one thing, but I think another. I don't think I'll agree to that. Well, there's your whistle. You'd better be off. See you this evening. So-long.' And smiling he turned away. ‘Peter,' he shouted—and he ran back to him. He shook hands, saying, ‘I am glad to see you again,' and he felt Peter's fingers tighten round his own.

‘And I'm pleased to meet you,' he said. Then they parted, Peter back to his work, Anthony on to Price Street to see his sister.

‘What a size that fellow is! Desmond's nowhere with him. I think he's clever too. Well! blast it, I have nothing against that,' and he immediately forgot Peter, and gave his mind solely to the thoughts of the welcome he would receive at Price Street from Joe and Dermod and Maureen. He found his sister cleaning the parlour window. Mr. Kilkey was at work. Dermod sprawled and talked to himself upon the mat in front of the fire.

‘Hello there!' Anthony said, and caught his sister round the waist. He lifted her down. ‘Hello, Maury! Busy as usual. How are you?' They kissed each other.

‘Anthony! Well! When did you arrive? How are you? Are your feet mending?'

‘Yes. They're feeling very well at the moment. Hey, there!' He picked up the child, sat down and went on talking to his sister. ‘How clean you keep the place. Has Joe given you a medal yet? You deserve one! Our place used to shine once upon a time, but that was before you became a family.'

‘Mother's getting old, and she doesn't seem to care either,' remarked Maureen. ‘But tell me about yourself. One can hardly keep Mother out of any conversation. Are you happy? Still in the wheel-house? When are you sailing?'

‘Eight days' time,' said Anthony. ‘Time flies away. Here to-day, gone to-morrow. And how's this little man?' he said, lifting the child over his head.

‘He's a demon, that's what he is.'

‘And you! How's things with you?' he asked. ‘You look a bit under the weather.'

‘Do I?' she remarked, laughing. ‘Did you see the other fellow?' she asked.

‘The other fellow?' Anthony put Dermod on the mat. ‘The other fellow?'

‘Peter.'

‘Oh! I didn't know who you meant,' he replied. ‘The other fellow. Oh! I see! Yes, I met him. Six-footer. Quite six. I like him too. He's lost that babyish way he used to have. Remember him at school. I got quite a surprise. I thought he was on the briny by this time.'

‘Let me give you a piece of good advice, Anthony,' said Maureen, leaning against her brother's shoulder and looking up into his face, watching his greenish-grey eyes, that seemed to be changing colour. ‘It's this! I believe Mother was secretly glad to see the back of Dad! But don't say anything, for heaven's sake. I even believe she hoped he'd go all the while. Now she'll want you. She'll ask you to stay at home. She's going to have her children round her skirts, at whatever cost. But don't you do it. Don't you do it, Anthony. Ever since the other fellow went to college Mother has been just like a lunatic. She's up to her eyes in all kinds of debt, and if you stay and work ashore—as I believe she wants you to do—you'll have a rotten time. You stick by your ship. Anyway, what could you do ashore? At least at sea you'll have quiet, and be able to turn into your bunk, and rest your feet, but round there you can't get a chance to rest anything. From the first day you stay at home she'll begin. She'll drag out all her old ghosts. What a life she's had. What she has to do. The devil Father was, and how indifferent Aunt Brigid is. H'm! Aunt Brigid is a wise woman. She knows how to keep out of it all. And she never comes to Gelton unless she's going to get something from it.'

‘Yes,' remarked Anthony. ‘Maybe that's why she shunted Grand-dad off with her! Mother must be quick to think. Fancy not being able to see through that fat old blighter. I'm surprised.'

‘Don't be! and don't waste your breath! Mother's got into a way of completely shutting her eyes to everything that she doesn't want to see. She doesn't care. Can you think of Mother saying that she was glad to let the old man go? That she had grown to hate him. She did, so there! The things she's said lately! Peter is nearer than we are. He said she was getting a bit light in the head.'

‘Ah! Get away!' said Anthony. ‘Mother light in the head? Don't be such a fool. Mother's far from light in the head. A bit contrary if you ask me anything, but that's all, and if she did hate her father—I suppose she had a right to if she wanted.'

‘You're like Dad! Can't understand. What sailor can, anyhow?' And she began to tease him unmercifully. ‘Are you going to take me out?' she asked. ‘Joe never does now! Hasn't time. Soon we're going to leave here. We're tired of the same bloody old street. We're looking for another place.'

‘Oh!' Anthony paused. ‘I didn't know that. Mother will miss seeing you!'

‘She will not. We see very little of each other, and Mother is so occupied with her damn secrets. She's up to the eyes in debt, and she never comes here, unless it's to growl—to complain of my coldness, my indifference, my failure to appreciate what a good husband I've got, and all that sort of drivel. Wisely enough, we keep out of Mother's way.' She looked at her brother.

Anthony Fury had no comment to make, but observed how different people were ashore from what people were like at sea. Quite different. Something dirty and narrow about them. Here was Maureen with hardly a good word to say for anybody. What he now felt, he showed plainly in his face. He sat silent for a few minutes, and then asked quite casually, as though he wasn't much caring whether she answered him or not, ‘Do you see anything of Desmond now? I often wonder how he's getting on. It is funny there's never been a child there, don't you think so, Maury?' He lit a cigarette.

‘I haven't seen him for ages and ages,' she replied. ‘But Mother did.'

‘Mother! Mother and Desmond met? Well, I'll be hanged. Was there an explosion?'

‘No! They spoke quite civilly to each other, but only for a few minutes. They bumped into each other in Deany's—quite by accident, of course. But nobody's seen him since then.' He noticed she coloured a little as his eyes fell upon her face. ‘Why?' she asked. ‘Are you dying to shake hands with him?'

‘Oh, for Christ's sake, Maury,' he said, ‘talk plain. Keep that other tongue for your husband. Desmond's my brother, why shouldn't I see him? All this bloody nonsense about being out of the family. Why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't they come and see us? I'm a good Catholic myself, I hope—but I'm not a bloody hypocrite, thank God. What's it matter, if they're happy? They must be. Married all this time, and still together! You're a caution,' he concluded.

‘There are some people who think quite differently,' she replied. ‘But I have nothing against him either. Sometimes I wish that my husband had as much spunk in him as that fellow has. He's got a big head, and I used to think it was quite wooden, but I've altered my opinion, believe me. When I saw him last he was dressed up to beat the band, even had his gold watch and chain, and now—what d'you think, he's putting up for the Gelton Council now.'

‘Good!' said Anthony. ‘More power to his elbow. And does Mother hear all this? What does she think?'

‘I don't know! Haven't I told you that Mother and I don't see eye to eye any more? Can't you understand? Why must Mother come into every talk we have? You'd think the whole bloody world depended on Mother. I don't know, and I don't care. I'm giving you a bit of sound advice. You stick by your ship, mister, or you'll be sorry. If we're all in Hatfields, this bloody, stinking hole, through Mother's fancy ideas, then we must get out of it, but through our own efforts. Think why I married my grandfather of a husband. And
we
are getting out soon. Mother can stick in her dirt. I believe she likes it. They're both as thick as the wall, that's why they're still at number three with cobwebs all round them. And sometimes when I see this steady, patient plodder of a man I've got, I almost believe I've married a branch of my own family by mistake. Yes, I work myself up about it. When I think of that fellow, Desmond. He's getting somewhere. He knows where he's going, too. When he made up his mind, he made it up. He flung hard work away, and now he's sitting on his bottom in comfort. But is he satisfied? Not he. That fellow will dive into Parliament, though I doubt if he has brains enough for that.'

‘I had an idea,' said Anthony, ‘that things weren't exactly on the level here. But Joe's a decent chap, isn't he? I mean, he works hard. And what more can one expect of any man if he works hard? You want to gallop before you can walk, Maury. Take it easy. Let's go to the Bioscope this afternoon. You can leave Dermod with Mother, or next door if you prefer it.'

‘Horses work hard, and so do cows,' she said. ‘But who wants to be tied for ever to a good, patient, plodding cow? I was happier when I was at the factory. At least my life was different. I did have a shilling in my pocket at the end of the week. I did have girl friends. I could go out. Now you can do nothing.' Her voice trailed off with a sort of growl.