the maltese angel (58 page)

But the very thought of putting Janie out of her life was unbearable to her, as was the thought of her son existing in the woodman's cottage that was again entangled in the undergrowth.

Dear, dear! She felt old and tired. She would be seventy next year, and what had she done with her life? Her marriage of convenience in order to have a child; and what a child! one who had been driven out of his mind because of his sense of moral right.

The house seemed dead. Yet since her father's death she had worked on it daily, returning it to something like its former state and even better: replacing curtains and covers, moving furniture around, even getting rid of some, such as the bed in her father's room and the one in the room which she had once shared with Angela. She hadn't replaced either bed. Carl slept in one of the two spare bedrooms. She herself still slept in the cottage;

and that simply because of janie stubbornness.

At the moment the kitchen was empty, for Mrs. McNabb left with the men at five o'clock, at least in the winter. However, one or other of the men would return at half-past six to help with the last of the

chores.

But now it was six o'clock and there was nobody here in the house, or in the cottage, or on the farm. Carl had gone across to the Hall to look over a man her ladyship was about to engage, a man to do the

clearing, so went janie garbled story.

Jessie walked into the hall, at the moment lit by the hanging gas lamp, then made her way along the corridor to the room that had once been her father's study, then later Patsy's and Carl's bedroom, but which was now a small and comfortable sitting-room. The fire was low in the

grate but she did not immediately tend to it. She stood with her hands on the mantelpiece and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. It was long, white and drawn. She was thirty-three years old and she told herself that if she were to meet a woman who looked like her

reflection, she would say she was forty at least. She had never been beautiful. Carl had once promised her beauty when she grew up, but that was only through kindness. All the beauty had gone to Angela, only to be marred, broken and wasted. Her life, too, had been

wasted.

When there was no hope of her ever having Carl, she had grabbed at the child who had been born of cruelty as something on whom to shower her love and to receive love in return. But it hadn't happened like

that.

The measures she had had to take to confine the child had killed the return of love that she might have had from her. And now she had lost her. Oh, she had lost her a long time ago: to that man first, and then his mother, and now to the house itself .. And what about Carl? It looked as if it was going to be the repeat of her father's story, for he had hugged his mourning to himself as if all the while embracing his lost love. And Carl seemed to be following the same route, for he

never spoke of Patsy. He was civil and kind to her, but so were the paid hands.

She had a terrifying thought of him going into Newcastle and seeing a poster of a dancer on a billboard, as her father was said to have done, and falling madly in love with the girl it represented, maniacally in love with her, just as her father's loving had not been sane. Yes, the same thing could happen to Carl, for twice during the last three weeks he had been into Newcastle and never mentioned die errand he had been on.

If he were to take anotfier wife she would go mad. Yes, she would, she would go mad. She nodded into the mirror. She would go back into that cottage and lock herself in and she would go the same way as Angela had.

The gas mande on the bracket to die right of her went plop, plop, plop, and die glass shade seemed to shiver, as did her reflecdon in the

mirror, only this was shaking its head and its mouth was open, denying her last thoughts, saying. No! No! What was she thinking?

When the tears spurted from her eyes she looked upwards for a moment and whispered aloud, '0 Lord, I am so lost, so lonely. Whatever

happens, don't let me do anything silly, please. " She could no longer see her reflection in the mirror and her throat was full; and she was about to turn away when she heard footsteps coming along the corridor, and almost in a panic now she dropped on to her knees, grabbed the tongs up from the hearth and began to take lumps of coal from the brass helmet bucket at the end of the fender. And when the door opened she did not turn around as Carl said, " Oh! There you are. I've just taken Janie to the cottage. She'll make a farmer one of these days.

Anyway, the fella seems all right and he was more than willing to take on the job for a pound a week and his grub. He didn't turn a hair when he saw the condition of those rooms above the stables, even seeming to like what he saw and said that he would soon have one shipshape. And he kept thanking me, and I told him it wasn't me he should thank but the young lady. "

He stopped now and watched Jessie plying the bellows until she had kindled a flame among the coals again. And when she still didn't speak or turn round, he bent over her, saying, "What's the matter? Are you all right?"

He could just make out the mumbling, "I'm all right." But when she pulled herself up from the hearth and did not turn towards him, he took her arm and pulled her gently round to face him. And he stood staring at her bent head, her face awash with tears and it was some seconds before he said gently, "What is it, Jessie?"

She now pulled herself away from his hold and, grabbing at the lawn waist-apron she was wearing over her woollen dress, she rubbed her face vigorously with it, but still she didn't speak.

Again he took hold of her, both shoulders this time, and made her face him; and when, looking up at him, she mumbled, "I'm sorry. I... I can't help it. I... I just felt so lost, the house, everything.

Nobody here. Lonely.

I . I seemed to have been born to be lonely. I . I have lost Janie and . " She couldn't bring herself to lie and say, " Patsy, too,"

because she had known for a long time that Patsy was nearing her end, and although she had grown fond of her over the years, she could not help but think and hope what her going would mean: she would have Carl once more. He ... he would be bound to turn to her, if only for

sympathy. But he hadn't, he didn't need her sympathy. And now she

blurted out, " You .. you hardly ever speak . you .. you don't know I'm alive. "

"Oh, Jessie, Jessie." He brought one hand now and cupped her wet cheek and his voice was thick and low in his throat as he said, "I know you're alive, dear. I know you're alive, only too well. But ... but it's early days I mean ... well, you know I cared deeply for Patsy and

... and I have missed her. But I've known of late you can't live with the dead for ever. And she ... she wouldn't want that, she told me she didn't. The last thing she said to me was' his own voice was throaty now " Be happy and don't be lonely. No ..

nobody should live alone," she said." He did not add, "She knew how you felt for me and always had done," because he had immediately reacted by saying, "Never ever! I'll never put anyone in your place."

And she had smiled at him and said that her mother had a saying:

the heart has a number of rooms.

He went on now, saying, "It's seven months. I ... I would have made it easier for myself if I had been able to talk about her to you, but somehow I... I couldn't make an opening. D'you know what? Twice

lately I've been into Newcastle and got blind drunk, but it didn't help."

The tears were still running down her cheeks but more slowly now, and he took out a handkerchief, and as he wiped her face he said, "We'll take it from here, eh, Jessie?" to which she answered, "Yes, Carl."

Then the meaning of his words and the tender look in his eyes as he had said them acted like the bursting of a dam.

And now her whole body was shaking and her sobbing was audible and he was holding her to him, and it was as if he was back in that bedroom all those years ago and asking if he could hold her. In some strange way she had belonged to him from then on. Even the beautiful Angela couldn't displace her in his affection, although she was never

convinced of this. But then there came Patsy. Dear, dear Patsy. But now Patsy was no more, and he was holding that woman that had been the child, and he knew that he must go on holding her, for she had indeed been his from the day she was born.

Lady Lydia looked at the tall young girl standing before her. She was wearing a long, mole-coloured velour coat, with a fur collar. A green velour hat completed the outfit, the whole seeming to complement the face and the two deep brown eyes set in wide sockets and outlined by curved eyebrows. The nose was small in contrast to the wide mouth, and the hair framing the whole and covering the ears held a deeper tinge than the eyes, and it was drawn back and lay in a bun under the rim of the hat. The face had no claim to beauty nor could it be called

pretty, but it was arresting. The eyes alone would hold the onlooker, as would the rest of her: the way she stood, the pose of her head, the chin tilted forward, created a picture that would draw the eye and hold it, for the whole expressed a vivid personality.

"Oh, my dear, you look lovely. How did it go?"

"Fine. Grand. They looked happy." She nodded now.

"Yes, they both looked happy. And Auntie Jessie ... well' Janie gave a small laugh 'she looked so young. I've never seen her look like that before. And Carl looked ... oh, so handsome. I went with them to the station. McNabb drove us. He and Mrs. McNabb are going to look after the place for the week."

"And they're going to Devon for their honeymoon?"

"Yes; and it will be the first time in their lives that either of them has been more than a few miles from the farm. And ... and the place will be so different when they come back ... I mean ... well, happier.

But," she added now with a straight face, "I'm still not going to live in the house with them. I've told them I can manage by myself in the cottage.

Anyway' her smile returned "I'm not often there, am I? Auntie Jessie says that by being so stubborn I'm keeping the McNabbs and Rob and his family from good housing. Well, I said there was a solution, I could come and stay here, couldn't I?" Her smile was wide again.

"But what did your aunt say to that?"

"Well, up till now, you know, it's been because I'm all she's got. And that is a silly saying, isn't it? because nobody belongs to anyone, not really."

"Oh, my dear." The older woman slapped at her now, saying, "You're far too young to thiink things like that. But you do think she might

change her mind now that she is married?"

"Yes. Yes, I think she might, because she will have someone else, someone she's always wanted. I think she has been in love with him all her life. Apparently he held her when she was born and so she claimed him, as I did. I used to follow him around. He became, in a way, my father, until I met up with ... the nice man." The smile sliding slowly from her face now, she said, "How did you find him yesterday?"

"Oh, really very well. He's ... he's talking much more now, in an ordinary way."

"Then why can't he come home?"

"I've ... I've told you, my dear, it's ... he can't stand being in the company of people."

"But he's with lots of people in the hospital."

"Yes. Yes, you're right, but they're different. They don't bother him.

They .. well, I suppose they don't want to talk to him or him to talk to them. The orderlies, I suppose, don't count. He's become used to them. "

Janie now pulled off her hat and threw it on the chair, and with

definite impatience said, "Well, is he going to spend the rest of his life there?"

"No. No, dear, I don't think so. But look--' Lady Lydia smiled now, saying, " I know what you're going to do next. You're going to throw your coat on top of that lovely hat, aren't you? Now take them

both and put them in the hall closet, and then tell Nancy she may brew the tea. "

With the coat over her arm and the hat on top of it, Janie turned once more to Lady Lydia, saying, "Have Arthur and Billy finished that patch?" to which the very quick reply was: "Oh no, dear. They've been in the loft lying on their beds; they can't work unless you're standing over them with a whip."

At this, Janie, tossing her head, walked quickly from the room,

followed by her ladyship's laughter. Within a few minutes she was back and picked up the conversation as if it had never been interrupted by saying, "That could well be in Billy's case; Arthur would be willing to work all night if you let him. He said he knew Billy would, too, for Billy had been in the Army with him. But Billy is not the same as

himself, and now that there are dozens of men on the roads begging for work, I'm going to tell him he'd better watch out."

"Oh! my dear; he does a good day's work."

"He doesn't, Lady Lydia. You know he doesn't. He gives us what he calls our pound's worth. He forgets about his bed and board, and

there's many on the road, in fact, many have knocked on the door, who would gladly do what he's doing for good meals and a place to sleep.

He thinks he's still scrounging in the Army. And I can tell you this, Arthur's disappointed in him, too. Any way," her voice changed, " I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he ups and goes one of these days. I hope he does. "

Lady Lydia looked at the slim figure of the girl who already had a woman inside her, and she said to herself, it shouldn't be. It

shouldn't be. And looking back she thought that at her age, all she would have thought of was what dress she should wear for the coming ball; and would John Cook Mortimer be there? Or Jim Harding or .. ?

"What was that you said, dear?"

"What I said. Lady Lydia, was, if things improve the way they've done this year and we can send vegetables to the market as well as the

fruit, then we'll need a horse and cart, just a small one."

Lady Lydia closed her eyes as she said, "My dear, I've dipped into the funds so much."

"You won't need to dip into the funds any more, Lady Lydia. What we make next year, even without the vegetables, now that we've got the orchard cleared and the vinery and the hothouses all going, there'll be more than enough profit to buy a horse and cart. Carl would pick an old one out that had still a lot of work left in it. You can get carts at any of the sales; and if you're in a position to buy at any time, there'll always be a cheap one. It would more than pay for itself, and quickly. I'm sure it would."