the local papers, but those in Newcastle as well carried the story of how there had been attempts to monopolize the river trade, and that Mr Connor’s boats had not only been set adrift, but also been sunk when they were full of cargo.
The reports made Jimmy’s little boats appear the size of tramp steamers or tea clippers, and himself as a thriving young businessman.
The private carriages had stretched the entire length of the road passing Westoe village and far beyond. The occupants were all male. In fact, the entire cortege was male, with one exception. Mrs Connor was present at her husband’s funeral and what made her presence even more embarrassing to the gentlemen mourners was that it was whispered she was someway gone in pregnancy. She wore a black silk coat and a fashionable hat with widow’s weeds flowing low down at the back but reaching no farther than her chest at the front. She was a remarkable woman really . . . nothing to look at personally, but sort of remarkable, a kind of law unto herself.
Another thing that was remarkable, but only to the occupants of the kitchen, was that John George had been present at the burial, but had not shown his face to condole with them nor had he spoken with Paddy who had struggled to the cemetery on sticks. All except Jimmy said they couldn’t make him out. But then prison changed a man, and likely he was deeply ashamed, and of more than one thing, for was he not now living with another man’s wife?
Poor John George, they said. Yet in all their minds was the faint niggling question, Who was the poorer? John George was alive; Rory, the tough gambling man, was dead.
And this was exactly what had passed through Jimmy’s mind when he had seen John George standing against the wall of an outbuilding in the cemetery.
It happened that as they left the grave-side he had become separated from Charlotte. He’d had to make way for gentlemen who had ranked themselves on each side of her. He could not see his father, and so he walked on alone, weighed down with the pain in his heart and the sense of utter desolation, and wondering how he was going to live through the endless days ahead.
It was as he crossed an intersecting path that he saw in the distance the unmistakable lanky figure of John George. He was standing alone, head bowed, and his very stance seemed to be portraying his own feelings.
Without hesitating, he went towards him; but not until he was almost in front of him did John George raise his head.
For almost a full minute they looked at each other without speaking. Then it was Jimmy who said, ‘I’m glad you came, John George.’
John George swallowed deeply, wet his lips, sniffed, then brought out a handkerchief and rubbed it roughly around his face before mumbling, ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy, sorry to the heart.’
‘Aye, I knew you’d feel like that, John George. In spite of everything I knew you’d have it in your heart to forgive him.’
‘Oh, that.’ John George shook his head vigorously, then bowed it again before ending, ‘Oh, that was over and done with a long time ago.’
‘It’s like you to say that, John George. You were always a good chap.’
‘No, not good, just weak, Jimmy. And you know, in a funny sort of way I feel responsible for . . .’
‘No! Don’t be silly, John George.’ Jimmy cut in. ‘Now don’t get that into your head. It’s me, if anybody, who should shoulder the blame for Rory’s going. It’s me. If I hadn’t wanted the damned boatyard he’d be here the day. Aye, he would.’
‘No, no, don’t blame yourself, Jimmy. It was just one of those things. Life’s made up of them when you think about it, isn’t it?’ He paused, then asked softly, ‘How’s she, Miss . . . I mean his wife? How’s she taking it?’
‘Oh, hard, though she’s puttin’ a face on it to outsiders. She was more than fond of him you know.’
‘Aye. Yes, I guessed that. Yet it came as a surprise when I heard they’d married. But I got a bigger surprise when she sought me out. I couldn’t take it in. After all . . . well, you know, doing what I did, and the case and things. I’d imagined she was like her father. You knew about what she did for me, like setting me up?’
‘Yes, John George.’
‘And you didn’t hold it against me for taking it?’
‘Why, no, man. Why, no; I was glad; it showed you held no hard feelings.’
‘Some wouldn’t see it that way. What did they think about it in the kitchen?’
‘Oh, they just thought it was kind of her; they don’t know the true ins and outs of it, John George.’
Again they stared at each other without speaking. Then John George said, ‘Well, they’ll never hear it from me, Jimmy. I’ve never let on to a soul, not even to Maggie.’
‘Thanks, John George. You’re one in a thousand.’
‘No, just soft, I suppose. He used to say I was soft.’
He turned and looked over the headstones in the direction of the grave, but there was no rancour in his words. Then looking at Jimmy again, he said, ‘It’s eased me somewhat, Jimmy, to have a word with you. I hope I’ll see you again.’
‘Me an’ all, John George. Aye, I’d like that. I’ll come up sometime, if you don’t mind.’
‘You’d be more than welcome, Jimmy, more than welcome.’
‘Well, I’ve got to go now, they’ll likely be waiting and I’ll be holding up the carriages. So long, John George.’ Jimmy held out his hand.
John George gripped it. ‘So long, Jimmy.’
They now nodded at each other, then simultaneously turned away, John George in the direction of the grave and Jimmy towards the gates, the carriage and Charlotte, and the coming night, which seemed the first he was about to spend without Rory, for up till now his body had lain in the house.
It was as he crossed the intersecting path again that he saw Stoddard hurrying towards him.
‘Oh, there you are, sir. The mistress was wondering.’
‘I’m sorry. I saw an old friend of . . . of my brother’s. I . . . I had to have a word . . .’
‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’
It was funny to be called sir, he’d never get used to it like Rory had.
They were making their way through small groups of men in order to reach the gates and the carriage beyond when he saw her. Perhaps it was because of the strong contrast in dress that the weirdly garbed figure standing in the shadow of the cypress tree stood out. Both Jimmy and Stoddard looked towards it, and Jimmy almost came to a stop and would once again have diverted had not Stoddard said quietly, ‘The mistress is waiting, sir.’
‘Oh yes, yes.’ Poor Janie. What must she be feeling at this moment? Rory’s wife, his real wife after all was said and done, hidden away like a criminal. But she had come; despite the protests she had come. Her presence would surely cause comment.
So thought Stoddard. But then, as he told himself yet again what he had said to the staff last night, it was a lucky family that hadn’t someone they were ashamed to own because of their oddities. It happened in the highest society, and certainly in the lowest, and you couldn’t blame the master or his folks for not wanting to bring that creature to the fore.
8
They were gathered in the kitchen. Paddy sitting by the fire with his leg propped up on a chair; Ruth sitting opposite to him, a half-made shirt lying on her lap, her hands resting on top of it; Jimmy sitting by the corner of the table, and Lizzie standing by the table to the side of him, while Janie stood at the end of it facing them all.
She was dressed as she had been since she came back; even, within doors she kept the strange hat on her head. She looked from one to the other as she said, ‘You’re blamin’ me for taking it, aren’t you? After the stand I made you think I should have thrown the money back in her face?’
‘No, no.’ They all said it in different ways, shakes of the head, movements of the hands, mutters, but their protests didn’t sound convincing to her, and now, her voice raised, she said, ‘You took from her. It was all right for you to take from her, all of you. And what had she done to you? Nowt.’
‘Nobody’s sayin’ you shouldn’t ’ve taken it, Janie. We’re just sad like that you still feel this way about things.’
She turned and looked at Jimmy, and her body seemed to slump inside the cloak. She said now flatly, ‘How would any of you have felt, I ask you? Look at yourselves. Would you have acted any differently? And don’t forget, I
