for, as he admitted, he had been tampering with the books for some long time, and as he also admitted, not only for ten shillings at a time either.’
All this time their hands had been joined and he looked down on them as he asked quietly, ‘Why am I here now? Tell me that. Knowing all this about me, why am I here now?’
She now withdrew her hands from his and, rising to her feet, went towards the fire and once again looked at the picture above the mantelpiece. Then she wetted her lips twice and drew in a long breath before she said softly, I . . . I happen to care for you . . . This, of course, wipes out all my fine talk about friendship et cetera, but you see—’ again she wetted her lips—‘I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you in my father’s office. It was just like that, quickly, the most sudden thing in my life. I remember thinking, that’s the kind of man I would like to marry if it were possible. I knew it was a preposterous desire, quite hopeless, utterly hopeless. My father would never have countenanced it. Strangely, he didn’t like you. But then he liked so few people, and if I’d shown the slightest interest in you, even mentioned your name in a kindly fashion, he would have dismissed you.’
She turned and looked at him. ‘I’m a fraud, but I really did not intend that you should know this. I . . . I was going to acquire you under false pretences. But . . . but it makes no difference to the bargain. That can remain as it stands. But—’ she laughed self-consciously—‘so much for all my fine platonic talk. You know, Rory, the emotions are not measured in proportion to one’s looks: if that were so all the beauties in the world would be passionate lovers, but from what I have gauged from my reading they’re often very cold women. My . . . my emotions don’t match my looks, Rory, but as I said the bargain stands: you give me your friendship and protection as a husband, I will give you what . . . well, what I cannot help giving you.’
He rose from the couch and went slowly towards her, and he stared into her face before he said softly, ‘There must be a dozen men in this town who’d be only too glad to have married you, and would serve you better than I’ll ever be able to.’
‘Doubtless, doubtless.’ She nodded slowly at him. ‘But you see, and here we come to the question of truth again, they would have been marrying me for one thing, my money, and they would likely have been men with whom I couldn’t bargain. In their cases I would most assuredly have wished them to have their own apartments, but in their cases they would assuredly not have complied, for let us face the fact that most men’s needs do not require the stimulus of love . . .’
Slowly and firmly now he put his arms about her and drew her thin form towards him, and when he felt her taut body relax against him, and her head bury itself in his shoulder, he put his face into the dark coils of her hair and murmured, ‘Don’t. There, there, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’ll . . . I’ll make you happy, Charlotte. I promise I’ll make you happy.’
He didn’t know how he was going to do it. The only thing he was sure of in this fantastic moment was that he’d have a damned good try.
2
He stood in the kitchen at the end of the long table, while they, like a combating force, stood at the other end, Ruth, his father, and Lizzie. Jimmy stood to the side towards the middle of the table, his face pale, anxious, his eyes darting between them like a troubled referee.
‘Well, you can say something, can’t you?’ His voice re-echoed through the timbers in the roof.
It was his father who spoke. Quietly he said, ‘Janie’s hardly cold.’
‘Janie’s been dead over a year, a year and three weeks to be exact.’
‘Huh! Well.’ Paddy broke away from the group and walked towards the fireplace and, picking up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, he bent and tapped it on the hob, knocking out the doddle as he said, ‘You’re doin’ well for yersel, there’s that much to be said. Aye, aye. They used to say old Kean could buy Shields, that is the parts Cookson hadn’t bought up. Money grabbers, the lot of them I . . .’
‘It wasn’t the money . . .’
‘Well, begod! it couldn’t be her face.’
Rory swung round and glared at Lizzie. It looked for a moment as if he would spring down the table and strike her. Their eyes held across the distance before she snapped her gaze from his and, swinging round, went towards the scullery, muttering, ‘My God! My God! What next!’
The anger in him blinded him for a moment. Any other family in the town, any other family from here to Newcastle, would, he imagined, have fallen on his neck for making such a match, but not his family, aw no. In their ignorance they thought you must keep loyal to the dead, if not for ever, then for a decent period of years.
His vision clearing, he glared now at Ruth. She was usually the one to see both sides of everything, but she wasn’t seeing his side of this, there was a stricken look on her face. He put his hands on the table and leant towards her now as he cried, ‘You didn’t condemn her da, did you—’ he jerked his head back in the direction of the cottage next door—‘when he went off and lived with his woman in Jarrow after Gran died. He couldn’t wait. Six weeks, that’s all he stayed there alone, six weeks. But you said nothin’ about that. And I’m marrying her. Do you hear?’ He flashed a glance towards his father’s bent head. ‘I’m not taking her on the side. And one at a time’ll be enough for me.’
There was no sound in the kitchen. Paddy hadn’t moved, Ruth hadn’t moved, Lizzie hadn’t burst into the room from the scullery. He stood breathing deeply. Then looking at Jimmy, he yelled, ‘I came here, you know I came here to say that she wanted to meet them. My God! she didn’t know what she was askin’ . . . Well, it doesn’t matter. I know where I stand now; you’ll want me afore I’ll want you, the lot of you.’ And on this he turned round and marched out of the room.
Before the door had crashed closed Lizzie appeared in the kitchen. Paddy turned from the fireplace, and Ruth, putting her hand out towards Jimmy as if she were pushing him, said quickly and in a choked voice, ‘Go after him. Stay with him. Tell . . . tell him it’ll be all right.’
She was now pressing Jimmy towards the door. ‘Tell . . . tell him I understand, and . . . and shell be welcome. Tell him that, shell be welcome.’
Jimmy didn’t speak but, grabbing up his cap, he pulled it tight down on his head, then ran wobbling down the path and out of the gate, calling, ‘Rory! Rory!’
He was at the top of the bank before he caught up with Rory.
‘Aw, man, hold your hand a minute. It’s . . . it’s no use gettin’ in a paddy. I . . . I told you afore we come it would give them a gliff; it gave me a gliff, not only . . . not because of Janie, but . . .’
‘But what?’ Rory pulled up so suddenly that Jimmy went on a couple of steps before turning to him and looking up at him and saying fearlessly, ‘You want the truth? All right, you’ll get it. She’s different, older; plain, as Lizzie said, plain an’ . . .’
‘Aye, go on.’ Rory’s voice came from deep within his throat.
‘Well . . . All right then, I’ll say it, I will, I’ll say it, she’s a different class from you. You’ll . . . you’ll be like a fish out of water.’
Rory, his voice a tone quieter now, bent over Jimmy and said slowly, ‘Did you feel like a fish out of water last night when you met her?’
Jimmy tossed his head, blinked, then turned and walked on, Rory with him now, and after a moment, he answered, ‘No, ’cos . . . ’cos I felt she had set out to make me like her. But I won’t be livin’ with her.’ He now turned his head up to Rory. ‘That’s the difference, I won’t have to live her life and meet her kind of people. I won’t have to live up to her.’
‘And you think I can’t?’
Jimmy’s head swayed from one side to the other following the motion of his body, and he said, ‘Aye, just that.’
‘Thanks. Thanks very much.’
‘I . . . I didn’t mean it nasty, man, no more than they meant to be nasty.’
‘Huh! They didn’t mean to be nasty? My God! You must have ten skins. You were there, you were there, man, weren’t you?’
Jimmy didn’t answer for a while, and then he said quietly, ‘Me ma says she’ll be welcome; you can bring her and she’ll be welcome.’
‘Like hell I will! Take her up there among that bigoted tribe? Not on your bloody life. Well—’ he squared his shoulders and his step quickened and his arms swung wider—‘why should I worry me head, they’re the losers, they’ve potched themselves. I could have put them all on their feet, I could have set them all up, set them up for
