The Gambling Man

clogs clip-clopping against the cobbles.

On the river-front now, she hurried in a purposeful way along it until she came to where had stood the square of waste land, and here she looked about her in some perplexity, for the ground was now railed in, its railings joining those which surrounded the boatyard. Her steps slowed as she approached the alleyway; the light was almost gone, and when she went to open the gate and found it locked, she rattled it, then knocked on it, waited a moment, and, now almost in a frenzy, took her fist and banged on it.

When there was still no reply she looked up and down the alleyway before hurrying towards the far end where it terminated at the river wall; and now she did what she had done a number of times before when Jimmy had bolted the gate from the inside, she gripped the last post of the fence where it hung out over the river and swung herself round it, and so entered the boatyard.

Now she stood perfectly still looking up towards the house. There was a light in the window of the long room. Again she put her hand inside her cloak and placed it over her ribs, then slowly she went towards the steps and mounted them. She didn’t open the door but knocked on it.

She heard the footsteps coming across the wooden floor towards it, but it didn’t open. A voice said, ‘Who’s there?’

She waited a second before answering, ‘Open the door, Jimmy.’

There was complete silence all about her now, no movement from inside the room. She said again, ‘Open the door, Jimmy, please. Please open the door.’

Again there was no answer. She heard the steps moving away from the door. She turned her head and saw the curtains pulled to the side; she saw the outline of Jimmy’s white face pressed against the pane. She held out her hand towards it.

She didn’t hear the footsteps return to the door; nor was there any other sound, not even any movement from the river. It seemed to her that she was dead again. Her voice high now, beseeching, she called, ‘Jimmy! Jimmy, it’s me. Open the door. Please open the door.’

When at last the door opened it seemed it did so of its own accord; it swung wide and there was no one in the opening. She stepped over the threshold and looked along the room to where Jimmy was backing slowly along the side of the table towards its far end, and she stood, with her hand on the door and said, almost in a whimper, ‘Don’t be frightened, Jimmy, I’m . . . I’m not a ghost. It’s . . . it’s me, Janie. I . . . I’ve been bad. I . . . I wasn’t drowned.’ She closed the door, then leant her back against it and slowly slid down on to the floor and slumped on to her side.

Jimmy gazed at the crumpled figure but didn’t move. He had never been so terrified in all his life, he wanted to run, jump out of the window, get away from it . . . her. Yet . . . yet it was Janie’s voice, and she said she was Janie. That’s all he had to go on, for from what he could see of her, her skin was like an Arab’s and her hair was white. Janie had been bonny, and her skin was as fair as a peach and her hair brown, lovely brown.

When she moved and spoke again, he started.

‘Give me a drink, Jimmy, tea, anything.’

As if mesmerized now, he went to the hob and picked up the teapot that had been stewing there for the past hour, and with a hand that shook he filled a cup, spooned in some sugar, then slowly advanced towards her.

He watched her pulling herself to her feet, and as he stood with the cup in his hand, staring wildly at her, she passed him and went towards a chair, and after a moment she held out her hand and took the cup from him, and although the tea was scalding she gulped at it, then asked, ‘Where’s Rory?’

The gasp he gave brought her leaning towards him, and she asked softly, ‘Nothin’ . . . nothin’s happened him?’

His head moved as if in a shudder and then he spoke for the first time. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he said.

‘I . . . I was washed up there. I don’t remember anything about it but they told me . . . at least after a long time when the priest came over the hills; he could speak English. The fishing-boat, it found me off Le Palais. I was clinging to this wood and they thought I was dead. I must have been in the water for a long time swept by a current, they said, and . . . and when I came to meself I didn’t know who I was. I . . . I never knew who I was till a month ago.’

‘Just a month ago?’

‘Aye.’ She nodded slowly.

He gulped twice before he asked, ‘Well, how did you get on? Who did you think you were?’

‘Nobody; I just couldn’t remember anything except vaguely. I seemed to remember holding a child. I told the priest that, and when he came next, he only came twice a year, he said he had inquired along the coast and he’d heard of nobody who had lost a wife and child. There had been great storms that year and lots of boats had been sunk. He told me to be patient an’ me memory’d come back and I’d know who I was. It . . . it was Henri who brought it back.’

‘Who’s Henry?’

‘He was madame’s son. They’re all fisherfolk, she looked after me. Life was very hard for them all, so very hard, much . . . much harder than here.’ She looked slowly around the room. ‘I . . . I remember how I used to talk about guttin’ fish as being something lowly. I had to learn to gut fish. They all worked so hard from mornin’ till night. It was a case of fish or die. You don’t know.’ She shook her head in wide movements. ‘But they were kind and . . . and they were happy.’

Jimmy gulped. His mind was racing. This was Janie. It was Janie all right. Eeh! God, what would happen? Why couldn’t she have stayed where she was? What was he saying? He muttered now, ‘How did you get your memory back?’

It was through Henri, he couldn’t understand about me not wantin’ to learn to swim. The young ones swam, it was their one pleasure, and this day he . . . he came behind me and pushed me off the rock. It . . . it was as I hit the water it all came back. He was sorry, very sorry I mean that it had come back.’ She looked down towards the table and up again suddenly. ‘Where’s Rory? Is he up home?’

Jimmy turned from her. He was shaking his head wildly now. He lifted up the teapot from the hob, put it down again, then, swinging round towards her, he said, ‘You’ve . . . you’ve been away nearly . . . nearly two years, Janie, things’ve happened.’

She rose slowly to her feet. ‘What things? What kind of things?’

‘Well . . . well, this is goin’ to be another shock to you. I’m . . . I’m sorry, Janie. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cut up, he nearly went mad. And . . . and it was likely ’cos he was so lonely he did it, but—’ now his voice faded to a mere whisper, and he bowed his head before finishing, he got married again.’

She turned her ear slightly towards him as if she hadn’t heard aright; then her mouth opened and closed, but she didn’t speak. She sat down with a sudden plop, and once more she looked around the room. Then she asked simply, ‘Who to?’

Jimmy now put his hand across his mouth. He knew before he said the name that this would be even harder for her to understand.

‘Who to?’ She was shouting now, screaming at him.

If he had had any doubts before that this was Janie they were dispelled.

‘Miss . . . Miss Kean.’

‘What!’ She was on her feet coming towards him, and he actually backed from her in fear.

‘You’re jokin’?’

‘No, no, I’m not, Janie. No.’ He stopped at the foot of the ladder and she stopped too. With one wild sweep she unhooked the clasp of her cloak and flung it aside, then she tore the bonnet from her head and flung it on to the cloak. And now she walked back to the table, and she leant over it as she cried, ‘Money! Money! He married her for money. He couldn’t get it by gamin’, but he had to have it some way.’

‘No, no, it wasn’t like that . . .’

She swung round and was facing him again, and he noted with surprise that her figure was no longer plump, it was almost as flat as Charlotte Kean’s had been before her body started to swell with the bairn. Eeh! and that was another thing, the bairn. Oh my God! Where would this end? He said now harshly, ‘It’s nearly two years, you’ve got to remember that. He . . . he was her manager, and . . . and she was lonely.’

‘Lonely? Lonely?’ She started to laugh; then thrusting her white head forward, she