Justice Is a Woman (28 page)

Joe blinked his eyes as if he were emerging from a trance, and he stared at the doctor, but gave him no

answer; and the doctor stared back at him and after a moment he said, “Well, I hope it’s done the trick;

but only time will tell if the memory has been buried deep enough not to trouble him

again.”

He turned about now and as he re-crossed the room he asked casually, “Have you seen

Marcus lately?”

“Yes. Yes, I ... I saw him on Monday. He was in the club.”

“How is your wife keeping? Is she quite recovered?”

Joe swallowed deeply, and it was with some effort that he replied, “Yes, she’s ... she’s quite recovered.

She’s in London, shopping at the moment.”

No more small talk passed between them. The doctor remained standing, looking at his

watch;

then sat down facing Martin and said quietly, “When I count to six, Martin, you will

wake up and you

won’t remember anything that has happened, but you will say you are thirsty and ask for a drink.

“One ... two ... three ... four ... five ... six:

“Oh!” The boy opened his eyes, passed one lip over the other then said, “I feel very

thirsty. May ...

may I have a drink, please?”

“Yes, yes, of course. What would you like? Lemonade? Ginger beer?”

“Oh, ginger beer, please.”

While Martin drank his ginger beer and Joe a cup of coffee, the doctor chatted amiably.

Then a short

while later, when he was bidding them goodbye, he looked straight at Joe and said under his breath, “A

doctor’s surgery is like a confessional.”

Joe gave no reply to this statement, but just stared back into the deep brown eyes for a moment before,

his head drooping forward, he turned about and followed Martin into the

“Where the hell has he got to?” asked Mike.

“How should I know?” Betty’s voice had just as strong a note of impatience in it.

“I told you what he said on the phone.”

“He didn’t say where he was going?”

“No; he only said that David was taking Martin to see Elizabeth in the school concert.”

“And he rang from Fellburn?”

“Yes.”

“Well’ Mike shook his head slowly ‘if it was four o’clock in the afternoon when he rang and he had

passed the boy over to David, that would mean David taking him on to the Egans’,

because the school

concert wouldn’t start before six, if then. My God! if she was to hear that she’d go

hairless ... mad!

Not that I’d mind.” He lifted up his hand and wagged his bent forefinger at Betty.

“That’s what the lad wants, to get around and see how the other half lives. But what I’m saying is, he’s

never gone against her this far before ... do you think something happened at the

doctor’s? Didn’t he say

anything about it?”

“No, he didn’t.” Betty sat down across from Mike and, leaning towards him, she said,

“I’ve told you,

Mike, exactly what he said. He was very brief.

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He had brought Martin back to Fellburn, he said, and David was taking him to see

Elizabeth in the

concert, and when I asked him if he himself was on his way home, he said he was going back to

Newcastle. “

“Did he sound drunk?”

“Drunk? At four o’clock in the afternoon! Of course not, but ...”

“Aye, go on.

“But” , you said. “

“He didn’t sound himself; he was very abrupt.”

“How do you mean abrupt? Offhand or short or ...?”

“Oh, Mike!” She got to her feet.

“Look, I’ve told you all I know. And for goodness’ sake stop worrying, or the next thing you know

you’ll be in bed again. And let me tell you’ she wagged her finger at him now ‘if that happens I’m

bringing you down to the first floor; our legs are worn off to the knees running up and down these stairs.”

“Oh! Oh!” His head began to bob as if it were on springs.

“That’s it, that’s it, I’m a trouble and I’m to be treated like some doddery old bugger.”

“Yes, exactly.” She turned now and went hastily to the door, and as she went out he

yelled after her,

“Well, you take it from me, when you get me down to the first floor it’ll be in me box, and I don’t care if

all the bloody legs in the house are worn down to the hips!”

Betty stood on the landing, her lips tight as she tried to stop herself from laughing. Mike was a

stimulant. You could say that for him.

She went down the stairs, crossed the first landing but stopped at the head of the main staircase and

looked down into the hall.

The telephone was on a table to the right of the door, and as she stood there she recalled Joe’s voice.

There had been something about it that she couldn’t make out: offhand didn’t fit it, tense didn’t fit it. She

had been about to ask him what had transpired at the doctor’s when he had rung off. Yet Martin must

be all right, else he wouldn’t have allowed David to take him, and, as Mike had said, with understandable

surprise, to the Egans’.

She now continued her way down the stairs, across the hall and into the kitchen. Mary was sitting by

the table cleaning fruit, and she looked up and said, “You after your supper, miss?”

“No, no.” Betty shook her head.

“And I’ll see to it myself. Can I help you with that?”

“No.” Mary emptied the currants into a large, brown, earthenware bowl, saying again,

“No, thanks,

miss. I’m just getting’ them ready for the morrow. Eeh!” She shook her head slowly.

“Other years I’ve had the Christmas cakes and puddings made weeks afore this. But I’ve only one pair

of hands.”

“Yes, yes, I know you have, Mary. And don’t worry.” Betty leaned across the table

towards her.

“Anyway, what does it matter when they’re made so long as they’re there for

Christmas?”

“Tisn’t the same, miss; they should be made well in advance and tinned; it helps to richen them.” She

puckered up her lips now as she ended, “Duffy used

to do all the fruit for me. Sit here he would, hour after hour, cleaning pound after pound.

Since he died,

I miss him, miss. “

“Of course you do, Mary.”

“The house isn’t the same; it’s not the same in any way, miss, like it used to be. Do you think it is?”

Betty didn’t give her a straight answer, but replied, “Well, I haven’t been here as long as you, Mary.”

“No, that’s true, miss. You know, when the first mistress was alive we had seven in the house and four

outside. Yes, we did. We had one maid alone for doing the washing, and now what have

we? Meself

and Ella ... I mean, Jane. She’s a good girl, is Jane. Her tongue’s the worst part about her, but she’s a

good worker. Yet she can’t make up for Duffy and Nellie. And them stairs up to that attic could kill a

horse.

They’re takin’ their toll on you. “ She nodded now at Betty, and Betty replied quietly, “

We’ll never get

him to come down to the first floor.

It’s the view, and his workshop. “

“Aye, I know, I know. And I wouldn’t do anything to disturb what peace is left for him.

But... but I do

think Mr. Joe could engage another lass; a young ‘un whose legs would take the stairs.”

“He would like to, Mary.” Betty’s voice was low now.

“I know he would like to very much, but things are not going well at the works; he’s

having to cut down

all round.”

“All round, did you say, miss ?” Mary now slanted her gaze up at Betty, and Betty looked down

towards the table. She would have liked to reply to

the implication in Mary’s tone by saying, “I know, Mary. I feel the same about it as you do.” But you

just didn’t say things like that to a servant about the mistress of the house who was also your sister.

There had been times of late when she found it difficult not to tell Elaine that the money she spent on

cosmetics alone would pay for another housemaid; and that for just half the money she spent on clothes

she could have a kitchen maid and an outside boy to help David. But on consideration she knew she

wouldn’t have mentioned David’s name, for Elaine’s hate of him seemed to increase with the years.

“I’ll have a talk with Mr. Joe, Mary,” she said, ‘and see what we can do about getting you some help in

the kitchen. By the way, how is Jane going to get back tonight? “

“Oh, she’ll get back all right, miss; she’s used to snow. And, anyway, Bill Laidler will be only too glad

of the chance to carry her over his shoulder.” She laughed now, a deep chuckling laugh; and Betty

laughed with her; then she asked, “When do you think they’ll be married?”

“Oh, God only knows that, miss. Things were looking up this time last year, but since this Hitler

business they’ve stopped building; they can’t get the stuff. He’s been on the dole again now for five

weeks.

As Ella said, come the war there’ll be work for everybody, and the sooner the better.

She’s got a

tongue, has that Ella, but she’s right, come a war men will become men then, not just corner-end props.

“

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right, Mary. But I wouldn’t want to see a .. “

Her voice was cut off by the distant sound of Mike’s bell ringing furiously, and they looked at each other

across the table as Betty said, “I’ve just come down.”

“I’d let him ring. He takes advantage of you, miss, he does. We all say that. He does. You know

what Duffy used to say ? He used to say that if miss was his wife himself couldn’t expect more from her.

And he said, an’ it’s true, that with one an’ another of them they’d make you old afore your time.”

Dear God, people rubbed it in, even the kindest of them. She turned from the table,

saying, “Well, I’d

better see what the trouble is; he doesn’t usually ring for nothing,” which elicited a grunt from Mary.

The bell was still ringing furiously as she mounted the main staircase, but she didn’t hurry. Old before

her time. Did she look that old at forty ? Her mirror showed her no change in her face: her features

looked the same as they always had, large and plain. What had altered over the years was her figure;

she was slim now, as slim as her frame would allow.

At the foot of the attic stairs she paused and looked up and was amazed to see Mike

standing on the

landing; and when he cried at her, “Where’ve you been, lass? Come on!” she began to

run up the stairs,

but on her reaching the landing he had already turned and was shuffling towards his

sitting-room door.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Our Joe.”

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“Joe?”

“Aye, Joe, in the car.”

He was now leaning on the window-sill.

“I saw his car coming along there a few minutes ago,” he said, nodding his head as

though indicating the

road that passed by the gate.

“It went over, head over heels down the gully into Robson’s field.”

Betty now peered at him through narrowed lids and said slowly, “Mike!

Mike! you could never have seen his car .. “

“Look, lass’ he turned on her furiously “ I’ve sat at this window for years; I know every turn of the

wheel of that car. What’s more, there’s no other cars come along this way unless it’s the doctor’s or

tradesmen’s vans and such, and nobody would be taking that road the night with the snow up to the

axles. Our Joe’s car’s down there in the gully, I tell you, lass. “ His voice ended in a yell, and hers was

almost on the same key as she cried back at him and pointing to the window, “ But you can’t see a thing

out there, Mike. “

“Look.” He brought his body full round to face her and he gritted his teeth for a moment.

“I was sitting here in the dark. I was on the look-out for him comin’, and if you look into the dark long

enough you’re able to see. And I saw its shape in the distance against the snow. Anyway, I know those

headlights. I should.” And now there was an imploring note in his voice as he ended,

“Believe me,

Betty, I haven’t gone round the bend;

I tell you the car’s gone down the little gully. Put out the light and look for yourself. You won’t

see the car, but after a minute or so you’ll be able to see into the distance. “

She didn’t follow his command, for now she believed him and she put her hand to her

lips as she said,

“There’s nobody in The Cottage, and even Jane’s out for the night.”

“You go, lass; go down and see. If I’ve been wrong, well, you’ve had your journey for nowt, but if I

haven’t ...” His head drooped.

“Go on. Go on, lass, for my sake. Ease me.”

She turned now and ran from the room, down the attic stairs and across the landing to her room. There

she pulled on a pair of ankle-length boots, then snatched a hooded coat from the

wardrobe and struggled

into it as she ran across the landing and down the main staircase. In the hall she grabbed up a large torch

from the drawer of the side table; then she paused a moment and looked towards the

kitchen, wondering

if she should tell Mary, but decided against it.

The journey to the gates was comparatively easy, for David had cleared a path earlier in the day, but

once on the main road the going was difficult, and the snow came over her boot tops. It was still

snowing, but it was thin and was being blown about like curtains of mist.

Within a matter of minutes she had reached the part of the road where the ground sloped quite steeply

away down to a field. It was the boundary field of farmland, and the drop from the road to it, always

referred to as Robson’s Gully, was about fifteen feet deep, and towards the bottom z8i and seeming to separate it from the field fence was a border of trees.