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578room again, and he swung round to face her as she approached him, holding out a garment.It's a kind of dressin' gown thing. My lad used to wear it. It's a bit threadbare in parts and many's the time I've been goin' to cut it up for the mat. I don't know why I didn't; but now'-she grinned at him-'I see I've been keepin' it for you. Put it on. How's your pants?''Oh, they're almost dry. Thank you.' 'Here, give me your other togs. I'll stick them round the boiler. Oh . . . but'-she paused-'I don't think I can get them all round.

Better still, I'll bring the fireguard in and hang them over the side here. Eh?' Once more she was grinning at him, but he could say nothing in reply.Left alone again, he felt for a moment that he had walked into a dream, and more so, when she returned with the fireguard and said, 'You haven't taken your socks off.

Get them off and put them over the end of the guard, then plonk yourself down.' She pointed to the settle and he obeyed her. 'Now, Charlie, get a move on.* He realized in amazement she was talking 579I to the kettle as she ground its black bottom |into the blazing coals. Then, turning to him > while thumbing towards the kettle, she said, I'He'll be knockin' steam out of that spout | within five minutes and then we'll have a | good cup of tea, eh?'There was a gurgle rising from his stomlach. He forgot entirely for a moment, and j for the first time since he had sat at her bedjside, that his mother was dead, and he put I his head back and laughed out loud. When | he brought it forward the little woman was i standing by his knees and she, too, was i laughing as she said, 'Me talkin' to Charlie, you find that funny? Well, you know, when you live on your own you get like that. But I'm only funny in parts, lad, so don't worry.'As he wiped his eyes he watched her go to the table, take off the chenille cloth, fold it up and put it to one side; then go to a drawer and bring out a tablecloth and put it on the table; after which she laid out two cups and saucers and two plates, and from a larder that appeared to be situated partly under the stairs, she brought out various items of food: a loaf of bread on a board, a lump of butter in a dish, a plate of scones, and a glass dish

580of some preserve. After she had cut some slices of bread, she put them on a plate and carried them to the settle and, laying the plate beside him, she pointed to a long brass toasting fork hanging on a nail to the side of the fireplace, and she said, 'Get a hold of that and toast some bread. Push the guard out of the way for a minute/He did as he was bidden. Six slices he toasted, during which time she had buttered each slice of toast as it was done, mashed the tea in a brown earthenware teapot, put a woollen tea-cosy over it, placed it on a tray with a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk and set it on the side of the table, before saying, 'Well now, come on and sit up.'When he found himself sitting on a wooden straight-backed chair facing her, she said, 'Tuck in. There it is, help yourself. I've set it all out but I'm not goin' to put it into your mouth.' Her face was one large grin again and he grinned back at her. But before he reached out to take a piece of toast he leant towards her and, his voice quiet, he said, 'May I know your name, please?' And she said, 'Yes, lad, you may. It's Bertha Hanratty.'I

581And now he repeated, 'Mrs Bertha Hanratty. Well, Mrs Hanratty, will you tell me, please, if this is a dream or am I awake?'Now it was her turn to throw her head back and let out a laugh that belied her small stature. Then after a moment she said, 'Aw, lad, you find me queer, do you?''No, not at all queer, only extremely kind and . . .' When he paused she put in, 'And?''Well, this is a very odd thing for me to say now, but it's as if you had been expecting me, such was your welcome.'He watched the smile slide slowly from her face; and she picked up a slice of toast and began to cut it in two as she said, *No, lad, I wasn't expectin' you, but I was very glad to see you. I get few visitors and all them I know. The occasional tramp comes along. They have their roads, you know, and they leave signs where one following on will get a bite. And then there's a man or two now and again on the road looking for work.

They're nearly always the result of some war or other. But . . . but you were different, and this is a special kind of day because it's me birthday. I'm sixty-two.'K

582'Oh, many happy returns.'Thank you, lad, an' I may say you're as good as a birthday present. In fact, I think I'll look upon you like that.''Have you any family?''Yes. Yes. I've got a family, lad, or I had a family. But I've never seen them for years. My son, James, he's in Australia, forty-three he is. I hear from him about once a year, if that. Then me daughter's in Jersey, the island, you know, Jersey. Lena's forty, she's got two bairns. I've never seen her or the bairns, not in years. But it didn't matter so much as long as I had my Willie, that was me husband. He's been dead these eight years. Still, life must go on, mustn't it?'He couldn't say, 'Yes. Yes, it must;' he only knew of a sudden that he was in the company of an old and lonely little woman who oozed kindness.'Well, come on, keep eatin'; an' by the way, now I've given you my life story, what about yours? What're you doin' round here? Because I can see from your clothes that you're neither beggin' nor lookin' for work.''No, I ... I was looking for a houseM

583where a friend of mine used to live, called Milton Place.''Oh, Milton Place. WeU! Well! But you're on the wrong road for Milton Place. That's the Thompsons' house. Are they friends of yours?''Oh no. I ...

I only know someone who used to live there before, Mrs Filmore; but she was called Mordaunt then.''Oh! Oh!' Her face was stretching now. 'Well! Well! She's been left there years ago and she married a Filmore, didn't she? and his brother lives along the road not a mile away in Grove House.'He heard himself say, 'Does he?''Oh yes. Oh my! There's a family for you. Talk about the mighty fallin'. Eeh!

I can remember back as far as when I was ten, when I used to work for Colonel Taggard over at The Brambles. They were friends of the Filmores, backwards and forwards they were. Then there were the Maybrooks, who had breweries, and Porter, they were in shipping, and there used to be some gain's on, especially at the hunt time. Eeh! but if you were to see them now, I mean the Filmores, 584well, the one that's still livin' in The Grove. Have you met any of them?''No. No, never/'Oh, well then, I can't be givin* anythin' away. Well, with one thing and another it's like a madhouse there. And they've got a poor lass who's not all right in the head. Some say she's just deaf and gets into tempers when she would scratch your eyes out. But there's one thing she has done, they say, and that is made the kitchen garden like nobody has in years. She spends her days there, 'tis said. She's cleared up paths and hedges and bits of the rose garden. So, to my mind she's still got a bit up top. But inside the house, they say, it's like Paddy's market. Well, Mr Bright, he's been the butler there for years, he's an old fellow himself and he still tends the master, and to all accounts he's been bedridden, really bedridden for the last three or four years. The last thing I heard was they had had three different fellows there givin' him a hand, but they didn't reign long, not one of them. And the young mistress, well, she was young when she went there, but she had a life of it. He left her, you know, the son . . . the eldest son, and lived 585openly with a woman in Newcastle. For years that went on, then she goes and dies on him, so it was said, and back he comes. Well, from all I hear he's been in one job after another. He victuals ships, so I'm told, or works for people who do. And they've only got one man now in the yard because there's only a single horse left. I used to have a crack with him'-she nodded to Joseph now -'the yard man, but I haven't seen him for God knows how long. The last time he told me about the mistress there, the one that went there when young an' is now in her middle years, well she had a heart attack or some such, and not a bit of wonder by all accounts. Funny how a family can reach rock bottom, isn't it? But there, that's life.

It lifts some up and tosses others down. Anyway, young man'-she now poked her head towards him-'I've given you all me news and that of the district and you haven't had to buy a newspaper, and the odd thing is, I lon't even know your name. What do they ll you?'What did they call him? Joseph Skinner.

>r should he rightly go by his mother's lame, Whitmore? But then, that wasn't her 586name, it was her step-father's. Her name was Carter, so she had told him. Well, according to law, he supposed, that's the name he should be known under. Again he looked at the old woman and just as he had thought before, so he said to himself now. She's lonely. But like most lonely people, once they get going their tongues wag. Yet whom could she connect Joseph Skinner with? Nevertheless, he heard himself say, 'My name's Carter, Joseph Carter.''Joseph Carter. Tis a plain name, a kind that one remembers. Well now, while you finish up that toast'-she pointed to the plate now-Til go and turn your clothes on the boiler . . /She turned his clothes on the boiler. She washed up her crocks in a tin dish that was standing in a shallow, brown-glazed stone sink. Then she sat opposite him and regaled him with more history of her life and that of her husband's, from the time when this house was the toll house and her father-inlaw the toll keeper. But when she married Willie and her family began to arrive, he built on two rooms to the side. So now she had three bedrooms, where one was all she 587needed. But she was kept busy with fourteen hens, twelve ducks, six geese and a gander, besides four pigs, two in litter.When, at half-past four in the afternoon it was raining as hard as ever and the twilight seemed to have deepened, she looked out of the door and exclaimed, 'Lad, if you make for Gateshead in that, you're goin' to get wetter than when you came; and what's more, there's not a light on the road until you come to the big house. The first one will be The Grove and I shouldn't imagine they'll bother with the light on the outside gates. There will be on the Thompsons', but that's a good step further on. Then you've got some way to go to get into the town. So, lad, what about it? You're welcome to stay the night, more than welcome.*He did not hesitate in his acceptance of her offer; he couldn't face the thought of being wet through again, nor groping his way along dark roads, only to be lost yet again. But what was more, he felt comfortable here, and she had blotted out his own thoughts and the reason that had brought him to this part in the first place.She was saying now, The bed in the room 588above this won't be damp because the chimney runs up by the wall. But it's not big, you can hardly swing a cat in it. Still, I don't suppose that'll trouble you.' Then she put in, 'By the way, I've never asked you what's your trade?'What was his trade? Could he say, *I was about to go up to university in a few days time, but now I don't know'? What he said was, 'I ... I haven't really made up my mind. I would like to teach.''Oh well, if you can afford to wait to make up your mind, that's all right. Your people must be well off.''They are dead.''Oh, I'm sorry. Where d'you live, and who with?''I ... I've been staying with friends. My home is in South Shields.''My! You've come a step out of your way, lad, haven't you?'He had got used to the habit of her head being poked towards him, and here it was once again as she said,

'I'm a nosey parker, that's what you're thinkin', isn't it, I'm a nosey parker?'

589'No, not at all, not at all. I'm thinking you're a very kind lady.''Aw, well, that's nice of you, lad. But to tell you the truth, the good turn I've done is nothing to what you've done to me, because I don't mind admitting I get lonely at times.' And on a laugh she pointed to the kettle, saying, T can't get Charlie to answer me back.'They were both laughing together again; and so it went on until she showed him up the stairs to the narrow room that could hold only a single iron bed, a wooden chest, and a chair, and when she pointed to a frayed hand-worked text above the bed and, leaning forward, he read,'Cast they bread upon the waters And hope to get a baker's shop back'.Once more their laughter joined and she said,

'I've left it there. This was my lad's room. Well, he went to Australia, as I told you, but I don't know whether he got his baker's shop because he never sends me any of his bread.' For a full moment the smile 590left her face; then she said, 'Good-night, lad. You'll sleep well,'He did sleep well, and was woken in the morning with a cup of strong tea and his clothes laid ready on the one chair. When, later in the kitchen, he sat down to a breakfast of two eggs and two thick slices of ham reposing on pieces of fried bread, he ate it all.Before he left she took him out the back way and showed him her smallholding, from which she derived a livelihood; then she was standing at the gate with him looking up to the sky and saying, 'By! that sun's got a nerve to come out after yesterday, hasn't he?'He made no rejoinder to this, but he took both her hands in his and shook them gently, as he said, 'These last hours will stay with me for a long time, Mrs Hanratty, and as I promised you, I shall come back and see you; because you won't take payment for your kindness, I'll always feel in your debt, and that's the only way I'll be able to repay you.'The little woman now made no reply, but

591her head kept nodding, and as he walked away from her down the road he knew that her eyes were still on him, as was the weight of her loneliness, caused mostly, he thought, by the neglect of her family.

Life was strange. Some people were deprived of love, others were surrounded by it. He himself had been surrounded by it and he had accepted it as normal, even at times being irritated by it and its demands.He had been walking smartly for about twenty minutes along a road that lay between open farmland; but abruptly the landscape changed, for to the left of him began grounds bordered by railings, some lying drunkenly on the brushwood, while spiderly trees struggled up between the branches of larger ones. He now felt the beat of his heart quicken as he realized that he was nearing the house he had come purposely to see.It was some distance further before he came to the iron gates. One was open, permanently so, because he noted that the grass was growing high into the filigreed ironwork. He stood, his hand gripping the cold edge of the other gate. The drive ahead disappeared into the darkness of overgrown