could have gone to the polis station, I could have said who I was? I could have blown the whole thing into the open, but I didn’t, I kept quiet, I didn’t even go and see me da. I kept out of his way even when I saw him at the funeral. And I won’t see him now, ’cos he’d open his mouth. It would only be natural. But . . . but when she sent for me and . . . and she knew I was going back there, she asked if she could do anything for me and I said aye, yes, she could. I told her, I told her what it was like there. They had nothing or next to nothing. The boats were dropping to bits. It . . . it was she who named the sum. Five hundred, she said, and I didn’t say, yes, aye, or nay.’
‘You mean she gave you five hundred straightaway like that?’ Paddy was peering at her through narrowed lids.
‘No, she gave me a paper. I’ve . . . I’ve got to go to a French bank. She’s puttin’ four hundred and fifty pounds in there; she gave me the rest in sovereigns.’
‘And after that, lass, you still haven’t got a good word in yer belly for her?’
She dropped her eyes from Lizzie’s gaze, then said, ‘I can’t be like you all, fallin’ on her neck.’
‘Nobody’s fell on her neck.’
She turned and looked at Jimmy. ‘No, you didn’t fall on her neck, Jimmy, just into her arms. You were as bad as Rory. I’ve got to say it, it’s funny what money can do, by aye, it is. I wouldn’t ’ve believed it.’
‘Well, you’re not turnin’ your nose up at it, are you, Janie?’
‘No, no, I’m not, Jimmy, but as I look at it now I’m only takin’ what’s due to me, ’cos as things were he would have had to support me. And in the long run it would have cost him more than five hundred pounds ’cos I’m likely to live a long time.’
They all stared at her, Ruth, Lizzie, Paddy and Jimmy. This was the little girl who had grown up next door. This was the young lass, the kindly young lass, who had cared for her grannie, who had been full of high spirits and kindliness. Each in his own way was realizing what life could do to any one of them. Each in his own way knew a moment of understanding, and so it was Ruth who spoke first, saying, ‘Well, wherever you go, lass, whatever you do, our good wishes ’ll go with you. Our memories are long; we’ll always remember you.’ She did not add ‘as you once were.’
‘Aye, that goes for me an’ all.’ Paddy was nodding at her. ‘We’ve had some good times together, Janie, and in this very kitchen. I’ll think back on ’em, Janie.’
Lizzie’s face and voice was soft as she said, ‘As you say, you’ll live a long time, lass, and you’ll marry and have a sturdy family, an’ when you do, name some of them after us, eh?’
Janie’s head was up, her lips were tight pressed together, her eyes were wide and bright; then as the tears sprang from them, they came around her, patting her, comforting her; even Paddy hobbled from his chair, saying, ‘There, lass. There, lass.’
‘I’ve . . . I’ve got to go.’
‘Yes, yes, you’ve got to go.’ Ruth dried her eyes and smiled. ‘And have a safe journey, lass. It’s a long way to go, across the sea to another country. Aren’t you feared?’
‘No.’ Janie shook her head as she blew her nose. I know me way, an’ I won’t have to ride in the cattle trucks.’ She smiled weakly, and Lizzie said somewhat tentatively now, ‘Why didn’t you get yourself a decent rig-out, lass, to go back with?’
‘No, Lizzie, no.’ Again she shook her head. I came like this and that’s how I’m goin’ back. And . . . and you see, they wouldn’t understand, not if I went back dressed up. I’ll . . . I’ll be one of them again like this. But at the same time I’ve seen things, and I know things what they don’t, and I’ll be able to help . . . It’s funny, isn’t it, how life works out?’
As she looked from one to the other they saw a glimpse of the old Janie, and they smiled tenderly at her.
‘Eeh! well, I’ll be away. I’ve got to get the train.’
She backed from them now and, with the exception of Jimmy, they didn’t move towards her, not even to come to the door. Jimmy opened the door for her, and with one backward glance at them she went out, and he followed her down the path. At the gate he said, ‘Look, wait a minute, I’ll go back and get me coat and come down with you to the station.’
‘No. No, Jimmy. Thanks all the same. Anyway, you’re in no fit state to be about yet, never mind walking to the station.’
He took her hand and they stared at each other. ‘Be happy, Janie. Try to forget all that’s happened. And . . . and another thing I’d like to say, thank you for not letting on to them’—he jerked his head back towards the cottage—‘about, well, you know what, the John George business.’
She stared at him blankly. This was the second time those very words had been said to her within a short space.
Yesterday she had stood in that beautiful room and thought to herself with still remaining bitterness, I can see why he didn’t want to come back, for who’d want to give up all this for a boathouse, ignoring the fact that it was the tall black-garbed, sad-looking woman facing her who had been the magnet that had kept him there. Nor had she softened towards her when, in open generosity Charlotte had said, ‘I understand how you feel for he was such a wonderful man,’ but she had blurted out before she could check herself, ‘You didn’t know him long enough to know what he was like . . . really like.’
‘I did know what he was really like.’ Charlotte’s tone had altered to tartness.
She had stared hard at the woman before retorting, ‘I shouldn’t say it at this time, but I doubt it,’ and the answer she received was, ‘You needn’t, for I knew my husband’—the last word was stressed—‘better than most. I was aware of all his weaknesses. I knew everything about him before I married him . . . with the exception of one thing . . .’
‘Yes, and I know what that was,’ she had said. ‘He wouldn’t let on about that.’
It had appeared as if they were fighting.
‘Do you?’
‘Aye.’
‘Well, tell me what you think it was,’ said Charlotte.
She had become flustered at this. ‘It was his business,’ she said. ‘It’s over, it’s best left alone.’ Then she had stood there amazed as she listened to the woman saying, ‘You are referring to the John George Armstrong affair and Rory taking the five pounds and letting his friend shoulder the blame for the whole amount, aren’t you?’
She had gaped at her, then whispered, ‘He told you that?’
‘Yes, he did, but I already knew all about it. I had pieced things together from the events that followed the court case.’
‘And you did nothin’, I mean to get John George off?’
‘He had been stealing for some time. His sentence would have been the same . . .’
She had stared open-mouthed at the woman, she couldn’t understand her. She was a lady yet such were her feelings for a fellow like Rory that she had treated as nothing something that she herself had thought of as a crime and condemned him wholesale for. In fact, so big was it in her eyes that she saw it now as the cause of all that had happened to her—all the heartache and the hardship.
She hadn’t been able to understand her own feelings at that moment for strange thoughts had galloped about in her mind. She had made a mistake somewhere. Had she ever loved Rory? Of course, she had. But not like this woman had loved him.
Perhaps her own mistake lay in that she had liked too many people, and it had sort of watered down her love; whereas this woman had concentrated all her feelings in one direction and had gained Rory’s love in return . . . she hadn’t bought him. It seemed to be the last bitter pill she had to swallow.
. . . ‘The only thing he kept from me was the fact that Lizzie is his mother.’
‘That?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, he always was ashamed of it. Yet I couldn’t understand why ’cos Lizzie’s all right.’
‘Yes, Lizzie’s all right.’
She had asked her to sit down after that, and then she had offered her the money. But even when she took it she still couldn’t like her, or soften towards her . . .
. . . ‘You all right, Janie?’
‘Aye, Jimmy.’
