Cotter's England (11 page)

Marion laughed.

He ended; "Imagine that, he hung her up like a bundle of skirts and she couldn't do anything. Of course, the next day, he left. He didn't wait to see if she left him her house and garden. And the funny thing is he never heard anything about it. She never told the police, nor the sexton, nor anyone."

"More."

"He used to tell me stories by the hour. They all happened to him. It was interesting at work. He said he didn't mind the trenches; he used to tell stories by the hour; and he got through the five years without a scratch. We used to forget the work. One day he got me into serious trouble. It was that story about the church railings he was telling me. The engines were revved up and they got too hot."

"Any more?"

Someone opened the front door. "Holy Mackerel, what time is it? Is that Nellie?" He whispered, "Let's lie still; or she'll brew a pot and keep me talking all night." They fell asleep.

Marion awoke in the morning to see the light falling on his wasted rough face. His personality was asleep and he looked like hundreds of poor fellows trudging to work through the dirty air, along the dirty pavements. His hair hung about like straw. She pondered; how could she have fallen so much in love with such a thin, sad manikin? Then she put her hand over her eyes and began to cry for him. He awoke soon after and lay for a while looking like a weak little bundle of bones and wind-dried skin; then a smile flowed into his face and with it, the flesh, the energy, the youth.

He presently went down to make breakfast. It was a fine day and he thought he could start off at once to visit the healers and quacks. Time was short. They were willing to try anything.

Eliza would be home at lunchtime. Eliza said, "Nellie was so pleased you were here. She had to go out early. She'll be back. Could you wait for her, Tom? She said she had a bad night, had a row with the editor, he threw out her stuff, it was a bloody shame; she told him all theory and no practice made Jack a dull boy." Eliza burst out laughing.

Then, "Poor woman. It is a bloody shame. She got a good story and no place to put it. She waited at the office till nearly one in the morning. She said, She must see your poor girl, and she must hang herself round your neck just for once, before you go north."

"I'm not going north."

"She said you were going to see your mother. She said she knew you couldn't stay away."

He looked stern. "What about Marion?"

Eliza paused. "I said that. And then she said Marion had a home, a husband—and they have money. She never told it before."

She looked at him earnestly.

"Marion is my wife; she comes first."

The doorbell rang. Eliza went. There was a flurry and they heard Nellie's strained yearning voice, "Left me key, love. Is young Cotter here?"

She rushed down the hall, tumbled down the steps to the kitchen and cried out at the door, "Hello darling!" There was already a rich false sound, while she flew to him, folding him in her arms and saying;

"Ah, how are ye, pet? I thought you were going to give me the slip!" He disengaged himself with a smile, noticed her triumphant expression. He looked away. At the door, with Eliza standing behind her and frowning, was a short, dark, fleshy woman with a spotted black veil. It was Estelle, his former wife. He said dryly;

"Hello, Estelle."

"I brought her, chick; she wanted to see you."

Nellie smiled and breezed about, fixing chairs and looking for cups. She said to Eliza, "Bless ye, darling. I'm dying for a cup of tea. Now, chicks, let's punish the teapot before we start chatting. I set out this morning with only one cup."

She set Estelle in her chair and eyed Tom. Estelle still wore the veil. Tom turned on his heel.

"Where are you going, chick?"

"I'm late already. I'm sorry I waited," said Tom.

She hurried after him, cajoling. In the front hall he turned, said sternly, "Did you know that Marion is here?"

"Marion? No, pet. Is she here pet? Why didn't you let me know you were coming so soon, chick? I wouldn't have gone away last night. It's a great honor, chick."

He looked at her and something flashed across his face, "I saw my telegram on the mantelpiece. You knew."

She could not help the clever grin. Her big mouth twitched, "Now, pet, don't get me wrong. I was over at Flo's and Estelle was staying there with her. Poor pet, she's in terrible trouble, the poor darling and she begged me to bring her over."

"You begged her to come over," he said calmly.

"Ah, she got cold feet, pet, and said she couldn't face you; but it's best to get it over. I know you've got plenty of troubles, Tom; and it's no question whether they're of your own chosing; but you mustn't be concentrated on self. She's in very great trouble and she claims you're the cause of it all; so you must do your duty, lad. It's a tragedy, Tom; and we've got to help."

"I've got to take Marion to the doctor. It's like Bridgehead; like the old aunts sitting in the back room. What have ye been cookin' up?" he said, dropping into the home accent.

"Now, pet, you've got to face the facts of life. You can't live in your dream world. There's a human tragedy here and we've got to help her face it. Poor Estelle is very ill; it can't wait."

"Send me the doctor's bill," he said, climbing the stairs.

"Ah, no, pet. you can't get out of it that way. You've got to face the music. You're in it too. It's no laughing matter; it's for life and death. It means isolation, loneliness. It means you cannot touch man or woman: and you're both in it."

"In what?"

She poked her face forward with the bold queasy excited air of the scandalmonger. "She's been afraid of men and never went near them, Tom Cotter; and there are things that take a long time to come out. It's a terrible skin disease; and it's that, Tom Cotter. It's what men give to women."

He said in a high voice, "Is that it? If you've been stewing over it all night, you should have thought up more than that. It's not worthy of you."

"Aye, but it's the truth; and you've got to face it. The poor pet wears the veil outdoors and in. It's the shame and the fear."

"Oh, bunk."

"Ah, but the face, the face!"

"She's neurotic."

"Ah, ah, no, no."

He continued upstairs,

"I hope you girls have a good time. Maybe I'll have the DT's, too, when I come back."

She said hurriedly, looking up at him, "Tom, you had something years ago, when your feet were so bad; and now you never show your feet because it's bad there."

He stopped and looked down, "Does Estelle believe that? Who's been talking it into her? You know nothing about medicine."

"Aye, but it's true, lad."

"Look at my hands, look at my face."

She began to gabble, turning her face away from her brother, who seemed radiant and handsome to her, bending her head and unable to account for the despair rushing up through her. "At any rate, at any rate, Tom, she's got something very bad. She says it's from that time with you and I'm not earning enough money now for the clothes on me back. You've got to help her. She can't go out any more; she sits at home veiled. She went into the street, she was looking into a shop window. A man tried to peer under her veil. She felt such a deadly shame, she ran home. She says it's from you. You destroyed her."

"I don't know what's behind this; but I'm getting out of here. I'm going to take Marion home. It's safer."

Nellie straightened up.

"Ah, no. You have no right to touch Marion. Telephone whoever is with her. Let them come for her. You must never touch her again. Who knows where it came from? Perhaps from you? You don't know what her sickness is, running to the quacks. How do you know what it is?" She peered fiercely up at him, her face sharp and pale.

He went up and into Marion's room. Nellie stood for a moment ruminating and then ran upstairs after him, ran into the room, crying out, "How are ye, Marion sweetheart? Why did you stay away so long? I'm sorry to hear you're not well. You don't want to go away and leave us, pet? The house is yours, pet. This is your home. Eh, Marion, you don't look well. We must look after ye. Stay awhile and let us see you and Tom. You'll be better off here than roaming the roads, won't ye, pet?"

Marion welcomed her gladly. She said they had so much to talk about. She was feeling a bit better, and if they had the room, she'd like to stay a while and get her advice. She had a good plot for a play.

Nellie said feelingly, "Aye. It's damn good of ye, pet, if you'd let him go up to see Mother. It may be the last time, Marion: she's very weak and low. She's worn her life away for us all. I don't understand George and Tom who think we shouldn't feel guilty and responsible towards our parents who kept a roof over our heads and fed us, chick, when we were little."

"What else are they there for?" said Tom.

"No, chick, I don't understand ye. But Marion understands me, don't ye, sweetheart? And I'm damned glad you've got a good girl, there, Tom. Ye always were a waif and a stray; he's always been in the sideshow of life, Marion; aye, it's damned good of you to take an interest in me brother. So you trust me, Marion, pet? You'll stay here with me while me brother goes up to pay his respects?"

Marion said she'd be glad to. There were so many questions she wanted to ask Nellie. Nellie was delighted to hear this.

"Then it's all right, Tom. Bless you, darling. And Tom, I want ye to take something to Peggy, the poor chick, running the whole house on her own, as if she wasn't a sick girl. Come out a minute, Tom; I want to speak to ye. We don't want to disturb Marion."

Marion was curious, "Oh, you're not disturbing me."

"No, no, it's better, pet: just domestic matters."

Tom followed her out.

"Now, Tom, me puir lad, you get off as quick as you can and Lize and I will look after Marion. Estelle comes first. Now, Tom, you pack off, get off to Bridgehead; but you get away from Marion. Give me her address and I'll telegraph her folks. I'm ashamed of you."

Tom said, "Estelle would never have fallen for a thing like that when she was with me."

"You're very cocksure. Didn't ye have a friend in the war had that?"

"You think you catch it like measles? You don't know a thing about it. So that's it? You told Estelle that story. You know what I say, Nellie. If one of my bad stories gets out, I know it comes from you. I know you've betrayed me again."

She looked both ways, wanting to deny it. "When did I ever give you away, Tom? I'm your best friend. You always trusted me. You told me what you could tell no one else."

He said, laughing, "And you always betrayed me. But I can't help trusting you again. It's my weakness for you."

"I never betrayed ye, pet."

He said kindly, "It's your mania for confessions. Whenever I see them asking how it is that people confess in political trials, I laugh and think: Whoever caught Nellie, she'd confess. She'd confess so much they'd have to stuff their ears, stop the case, shut up shop, they'd hear such a damnable Arabian Nights, they'd go out of—they'd go out and get drunk."

She said angrily, "Now don't go twisting my words, Tom: making me out a fascist and a secret agent. Now you're not going to worm your way out of this. You've caused enough misery with your mischief-making. If you don't go off at once as is your duty, I'll tell Marion everything."

"If you cause Marion any pain at all, I give you my word you'll never see me again. A lifetime of affection and trust will go. I mean it."

"Ah, I'm not like that pet, causing pain."

He said, "I'm going then, but with a heavy heart; and with looking back at you. If you betray me, you'll never see me again. Now keep away from Marion. Lize is going to look after her. I'll just spend one night there and I'll be back tomorrow."

Nellie beamed;

"Ah, dear Lize. Ah, she's a darling; that woman is an angel. Now get going, Tom. I'll bring me parcels down to the car. I want you to say a few words to Estelle, pet. It's her right. When you get a divorce, you don't shed all human feeling. She thinks it's from you and even if it isn't, think of her solitude and misery; she fears all men, pet."

Estelle sat in a corner of the front room between the couch and a tall bookcase built into the wall. Tom sat in the middle of the room facing the fireplace in which a small fire burned; and Nellie, gay and eager, sat smoking on the other side of the fireplace. She looked benevolently from one to the other.

At last, in a low agreeable voice, with a melancholy drawl, an Irish note, Estelle said, "Tom, you know I'm very ill, I have an incurable disease I caught from you."

Like a lesson, thought Tom, who sat attentive, leaning forward a little to look at the red rash up her cheeks and along the jawbones. It was unsightly.

"I can't believe it is what you say, or what Nellie says. I wouldn't believe it without three opinions and a specialist. What you've got is some skin trouble; that's very common with nervous women. The men in camp had plenty of nervous skin diseases. As for me, to satisfy you, I'll send you a medical report as soon as I get back."

Estelle said bitterly, "You run it off like a record. You sound as if you explained it a lot of times." She said to Nellie, "I see you prepared him. You'd do anything for Tom. You'd betray anyone."

Nellie continued to deny everything and pretended to cheer them up.

Estelle said to Nellie, in her slow heart-rending voice, "You never gave us a chance. You always sat in on our marriage, pouncing on every mistake and talking it over with all your friends. You were jealous when I married Tom and you weren't satisfied till he left me."

Nellie was very much surprised by this attack; and countered it with a great number of warm exclamations, assurances, denials, chicks, pets and sweethearts; to which the two concerned listened as if they were using up unwanted tickets at a play. Nellie kept glancing eagerly and anxiously from one to the other, to get the affair going again; but Estelle was resigned, Tom determined; and they spoke to each other on the plane of marriage, so that Nellie did not seize quite what was going on between them. Tom said, "It's like old times. It's like Westbourne Grove. Estelle and I in trouble and Nellie post-morteming for all she's worth, wringing the juice out of the corpse. Now I must get off. I'll pay all the medical bills, though it's a hunk of non-sense. I pay you alimony. I can't do more."