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And now it's, Please, Amy. As I said, I know how you feel in losing Lily, but the way you're going on you'll lose everybody. Yes. Yes, you will.' She was shouting now. 'And me!'Her statement seemed to have shocked her into immobility, for she stood stiffly, her mouth half open, staring at him, and as he stared back at her he was saying loudly in his mind, Oh, no! Amy. No! I won't lose you. But there are things I must do, things I must get to the bottom of before I let myself go where you're concerned.

564Why should he suddenly feel old? A few weeks ago he had been looking forward to the time when he would go to Cambridge and enter a new way of life; that was before he realized the seriousness of his mother's illness. Even then, there was still the light shining in the distance; but not any more; the feeling in him now was that there would be no more school of any kind for him.Amy's turning away brought him back to the situation, and he said, although now more out of politeness than of interest, 'Where are you going?'She was at the door now and she turned round and snapped, 'Not the same place as you're going finally, and that's nowhere and achieving nothing. And I'll tell you something more: I'm finished throwing myself at your feet. If there's any kneeling to be done in the future it won't be coming from me.'The door was closed with such a bang that for a moment he screwed up his eyes against the sound. Then he sat down in the wooden chair by the table on which his breakfast things still remained and, holding his head between his hands, he swore aloud . . .When Amy entered the hall it was to see 565her father and mother going up the stairs, and they both turned and looked down at her. 'You were talking about going for a few days to Harrogate,' she said, and Bridget answered, 'Yes, dear, we were.''All right.''You would like to go?''Well, what am I saying? Yes! Yes, I would like to go.'Another time Douglas would have retorted quickly, saying, 'Remember to whom you are speaking!' But a tight grip on his arm turned him about, and they proceeded up the stairs and not until they were in their bedroom did Bridget speak, when she said, 'Chastising will not help at this stage. He'll be gone next week and she'll have weeks to cool down. We'll have to arrange theatres and trips and . . .''I think he should be told, at least what is necessary at the moment.'At this, two thoughts clashed in her mind: the first that the road would then be open to him; he would no longer class himself as inferior, the son of a servant. He would see himself as Amy's equal, in status anyway; that his mother had been a servant would no

566longer carry any weight. Then the second: why did Douglas always seem to suggest that there was something more than the boy's parentage to divulge? Right from the time of his nightmare she had felt there was something worrying him at the back of his mind, especially so when he had called out Joe's name.However, her main concern now was her daughter and her happiness. She could see no happiness for her married to the son of Lionel Filmore; and Douglas was of the same mind. This she knew, but here he was saying that he was going to tell Joseph of their true relationship.She said quietly, 'I ... I would leave it for a time. It might be too much coming on top of Lily's going.'Douglas thought for a moment, then nodded at her, saying, 'Yes. Yes, it might, but it should be soon because it's beginning to worry me and the fact that we've kept it from him for so long. It will be no use telling him that Lily wanted it that way.' He then asked, 'How long do you intend we should stay in Harrogate?'

1 567r'Well, we have the weekend and perhaps we could return on Tuesday or Wednesday.''Better make it Tuesday at the latest. There's quite a lot of work in and . . .''Oh! you and your work.' She went to him and put her arms around his neck and as she did so he said, 'And you, too, missis, you and your work, opening another polish factory. I've never heard of such a thing.''It's going to be modern, right up-to-date. I've told you, you should come through and see the sight and . . .''You know what I feel about factories of any kind. Why don't you sell the lot?''Oh'-she pushed him away from her'd'you want to break my heart? What would I do with my days when you're stuck down there with your lumps of stone?

I do finish at a decent hour and some days I don't work at all; but you, it's seven days a week with you.

So, don't you tell me, sir, to sell my pet hobby.'He put his head back now as he laughed and repeated,

'Pet hobby, and you competing with some of the big names in the city. D'you know you are actually feared in some quarters?'

568'Oh, yes, yes, I know that, and that's how I want it.''Oh my dear/ His voice dropping to a lower tone, she turned and looked at him as he went on, 'Nobody would believe there are two distinct women inside you.' She moved towards him and again she had her arms around him and his around her, and she said, and also softly, 'And no one would believe that it's only because I live with a wonderful man who makes me feel, as I never felt before in my life until I met him, like a girl.' Her head dropped back and she laughed, adding, That's why I daren't look in the mirror very often, because it would give the lie . . .'Her words were cut off by his lips tracing each feature of her face, and when they came to her mouth she returned his kiss as passionately as when their mouths had first met on that New Year's morning.

He had taken the train from Shields to Gateshead. He had been in the town a number of times before when, together with Amy, he had accompanied her mother on a tour of the two factories. The first visit had been when he was quite a young boy and the impression it had left on him was that of a dark, dusty and dirty place. It wasn't until he was in his teens that he became critical in his mind of the conditions under which the people worked. He was given to understand that there had been great improvements made over the nine years in both the machinery in the factories and the conditions of the workers. It must be two years ago since he last visited the polish works with Amy and her mother, and what became evident to him on that occasion was there were two

570Mrs Filmores: one who talked business like a man, he imagined; the other the doting wife and mother and lady of the house. Now, as he passed Honeybee Place, he noticed that some of the houses were being knocked down, and not before time, he thought.When he skirted the iron railings that now bordered the factory premises he stopped and looked about him. He knew that Mrs Filmore had once lived within a couple of miles of the factory in a house called Milton Place, and he also knew Mr Filmore had been born quite near there. He didn't know the name of the house, but from what he had picked up from the servants in the kitchen he knew that Mr Filmore's brother still lived there and was married to Mrs Filmore's cousin.When he had asked his mother about it and why the two ladies never visited each other, she had said she didn't know. It was family business and he wasn't to question Miss Amy about it.

It was up to them to mind their own business. Now did he understand?And such had been her tone and manner that he had said, yes, he understood, even

571though he didn't; he only knew it was something that hadn't to be talked about.There was a man passing and he stopped him and asked, 'Could you please direct me to a house called Milton Place?'The man didn't answer for a moment. He turned his head to one side, rubbed his tongue around his front teeth, then said, 'Milton Place? Now, now let me see.' And he looked about him; then seeming to come to a decision, he pointed to a narrow path, saying, 'The bridle path leads you into the ields, then into a wood, and people use it asshort cut to I don't know where. But youant Milton Place.'His tongue made another journey over his teeth before he pointed to the left of him, saying, 'Your best bet, I think, is to take the straight road, though it might seem round ibout to you, 'cos I imagine it would be a £ood mile or more. And if I were you'-he looked upwards now and pointed to the sky-'I'd put your best foot forward because re're in for rain, an' if it's anything like yesterday's lot you'll be drenched. And you're [without a mackintosh, lad.'Joseph smiled at the man. He felt inclined

572to laugh, for he had made a pantomime out of directing him; but he said, 'Thank you very much, sir.''You're welcome, lad, you're welcome. But do as I say and act like spring-heeledJack, or else you're goin' to be sodden.'Joseph actually did laugh now and he nodded to his informant before hurrying across the open space and taking the road the man had indicated.Who was spring-heeled-Jack? And he would be sodden . . . What a character. And there were so many like him, kind and humorous men; and yet they seemed to be only among the workers.At school in Newcastle he had met the fathers of two or three of the boys, but they seemed to be all of a pattern; doctors, solicitors, business men, all correctly dressed, all speaking the same language; polite, dry, condescending to youth.But that man was right, the sky was darkening; it was now almost like deep twilight and it was only one o'clock.He was walking through a built-up area and he noticed that the front doors were all painted in different colours, as were those of

573many of the houses in the streets in South Shields. But quite suddenly the houses gave way to fields and now he was walking along a narrow road bordered by a dry stone wall, and it seemed never ending.

But it was as it eventually joined up with a rough main road that the rain started in earnest.He stood peering first one way then the >ther while the rain poured down his face, )ut he could see no sign of shelter or habita(lon. So now, choosing the road to the left helid actually run, and quickly, but the road seemed endless. He stopped; he was out of breath. The rain/as now coming down in sheets and he wouldn't see more than a couple of yards in front of him; and he was aware that it had >enetrated through to his shirt and vest.tead down into the rain, he walked on, ask-ig himself why had he been such a fool as to follow that man's instructions, because he ladn't himself really known where the place/as.

Anything amusing about the encounter dismissed from his mind for he knew fhat he was actually lost, and what was more le had to make the return journey. So why :eep walking straight on?

574It was just at this moment of decision to turn around that the cottage loomed up. It almost seemed to him that it had sprung out of the ground, for there it was set back behind what appeared, through his rainwashed gaze, to be a low white fence.He stumbled through the gate and groped at the black-iron knocker on the door, and it seemed to him that the door was opened as quickly as the cottage had appeared.'Yes? Oh dear! Oh dear! You are wet, aren't you?'Tm ... I think I'm lost. I wonder if ... if you could tell me how to get to ... well, I just mean, back to the town?''Come away in, unless you want to get your death standing there.'Tm . . . I'm very wet.''Of course you're wet, lad. Come away in.' A hand came out and gripped his arm and none too gently he was pulled over the threshold into a lamplit room, then pushed aside so the small dumpy woman could bang the door closed.'My! My! You are in a pickle.

You're wet enough to be wrung out.' She laughed up into his face now, adding, 'I could put you 575through the mangle. Give us your coat here.' Her movements, like the grip on his arm, were rough as she helped to pull the coat from him. Then she exclaimed, 'My! you're wet to the skin. What brought you out on a day like this without a top-coat?''It ... it was quite fine when I left home.''Well, 'tisn't fine now and hasn't been for i days up here. Yesterday we had a flood and i it looks like another one the day, because it's ! in for it.' She thumbed towards the window | to the side of the door now, then said, 'Where you makin' for?''I ... I was looking for a certain house and . . .'She cut off his voice saying, 'You're j makin' a pool on me mat. Take your boots off, then get to the fire.' When she saw him hesitate, she said,

'Well, d'you want to get dry or not?''Oh yes. Yes, please.''Well, get yourself to the fire.'He had taken off his hat as soon as he entered the room; she now helped to divest him of his waistcoat, which he laid on a wooden chair to the side of the door, only

576for her to whip it up, saying, Til put them out the back. I've had the boiler on in the wash-house. I cook the hen and duck crowdie in it, you know. Anyway, it's warm in there and they'll dry off.'He watched her now scurry across the room and disappear through a door; then he walked to the fire. It was an open range and it was heaped high with blazing coal; a kettle was sizzling on the hob. He looked at the basket chair that was set to one side of the fireplace. It had a padded seat and a head cushion pinned to its high back. He looked to the other side where, at right angles to the fireplace, was a short settle. It, too, had a padded seat.He stood with his back to the fire and surveyed the room. It was a largish kitchen and the table in the middle of it was covered with a green chenille cloth trimmed with bobbles. A black oak delft rack stood against the wall and in the far corner of the room he could make out a whatnot, the wood of its shelves almost hidden by the pieces of china standing on them. The floor of the room was made of stone slabs but covered here and there with what his mother had called clippy 577mats. The ceiling was low and black-beamed and from it hung various shapes he thought must be small hams, and in between them bunches of herbs. It was like a farm kitchen. Perhaps it was a farm.'Oh, my stars! You're steamin' all over, lad. Now that'll bring on somethin'; give you your death. Take off your shirt and vest.''It'll soon dr . . .''Take them off! There's nothin' that a man has that I haven't seen. But anyway, you'll have linings on; and look, I'll get you a cover of sorts. In the meantime, get them off.'She now went along the kitchen and opened a door and to his surprise he heard her mounting some stairs, then the sound of her footsteps overhead, and he looked upwards as he thought, What a surprising little woman. In a way she was like the man who had put him on the wrong road.Slowly he pulled off his shirt and vest and, more slowly still, stepped out of his trousers. He was wearing knee-length linings and they were dry round the hips but wet towards his knees.He was standing holding his trousers out towards the fire when she came back into the