Justice Is a Woman (38 page)

the junction.”

“Yes, yes.” Joe now looked at Betty. She was standing with her fingers across her lips.

He did not

speak to her but they exchanged a look, and then he went out, followed by David.

In answer to Joe’s enquiries, Fowler’s said they’d had no call from Mrs. Remington. But Rowland’s

said they’d had a call, but the driver hadn’t been able to get an answer and then the siren had gone and

he thought it better to make tracks for home.

“So he didn’t pick up Mrs. Remington?” Joe cast a glance back to where David was

standing holding

open the door, and when the answer came, “No;

I’ve told you,” he slowly replaced the receiver. And stepping out of the box he gripped a handful of his

hair as he said, “ She must be in there. “

Three hours later they brought her out. She must have been in the hall when the bomb

struck. But

37i

for the dust that covered her she appeared to be unharmed. She still had her handbag over one arm and

her hands were encased in grey silk gloves. A beam lay across her legs but the upper part of her body

had been protected by the section of the stairs that had acted as a lean-to over her, and this had

prevented the masonry from crushing her altogether. It was strange that a matter of a few yards away

Mary’s body had been unmercifully blasted, yet Elaine looked apparently untouched .

The following day

when Joe stood by the coffin in the chapel of rest and looked down on the face that had once enthralled

him, he was glad that her beauty hadn’t been marred; she would have hated that. All his thoughts

concerning her now were guilt-ridden, and he resented this feeling, yet could do nothing about it. And he

said so as he and Betty walked away from the undertaker’s chapel.

“If I had divorced her I’d have gone on loathing her and felt justified inside, for, one way and another,

she had led me a hell of a life; but here I am all the time asking myself, was I to blame in the first place for

bringing her here, which to her was a foreign environment. I’m even viewing her killing of the child now

as compassionate; I’m seeing her action from Father’s point of view. And although I

know that she

would likely be here now if she hadn’t tried to take Martin from me, I can’t help but see her point of

view. It’s unreasonable, it’s hypocritical, for death doesn’t wipe away people’s meanness, cruelty or

physical torture, and I know this, yet here I am swamped with remorse.”

“You’re not the only one,” replied Betty.

“She was my sister; I knew her longer than you did, Joe. From when she could first walk she showed

selfish traits. As a child, everything had to go her way or else life for those around her became trying, to

say the least; and, even then, she could make you feel that you were in the wrong. She made use of me

all my life, and there were times out of number when she was cruel to me, mentally cruel.

The scars of a

physical beating heal but never those of the mind. There were times when I hated her, and now I’ve got

to confess that there was no time when I ever loved her. Other women couldn’t love her, either: she was

a threat to them, and she enjoyed hurting them through their men. Yet, knowing all this I, like you, am

consumed at this moment with guilt, more so because of my deception this last year.

Until now I had

thought I wasn’t doing anybody any harm, that she didn’t want you and I did. Now I

don’t know what

to think.”

At this point Joe caught hold of her arm and pulled it tightly against his side as he said,

“That’s one thing

you need have no regrets about.

And we have to face up to the fact that we’re in an emotional stage;

but it will pass, please God. Dr. Pearce said something to me this morning to that effect.

He knew the

situation between us, has done for years.

“You’re going to feel hellish about this,” he said.

“For weeks it will appear as though she was an angel; but then reality will take over again.”

“He said that?”

He nodded: “Yes, he did. I didn’t take much heed of it at the time, but now I feel he was speaking from

experience. He said it happens frequently with women who have looked after parents,

given their life to

them, then when the old people die they are eaten up with remorse and guilt for the

thoughts they have

harboured against them. He said it’s a most natural reaction.”

“I only hope so.”

They were walking by the river now and, gazing down at the path, he said quietly, “You told me that you

promised to stay with the old lady. Does that still hold good?”

It was some seconds before she answered, “Yes, Joe; I’m afraid it must. She she

welcomed me with

open arms when, under the circumstances, she could have shown me the door, being of a generation that

didn’t hold with looseness.”

“Looseness!” His look was accusing.

“Yes, that’s what she could have termed it, looseness, although she didn’t. I promised to stay with her

until she dies. And... and what I’m about to tell you now makes no difference, but I just want you to

know how she considers me: she made a will, you know, some months ago, leaving me

the cottage and’

her voice dropped to a whisper ‘the bulk of her money, which is a considerable amount.”

When he made no comment she turned and looked at him, and he said, slowly, “I’m glad

for you.”

“Oh, Joe! I’m in a cleft stick, but... but you can get me out of it.”

“I don’t see how.” ,:onds before They walked on, and it was so. ^ us morning. she said, “I was on the

phone to l ( come there, She ... she wants you and MarA, J too, and to make it your home.

“ t. He

stopped dead and confront j i/( tossed his “ Live out there with her?

Oh’. _ f^nd I don’t head ‘she wouldn’t tolerate t), know whether I could, either. “ would love “ She

would not only tolerate iA d/P^i J0^ she it. I understand her, and I’m tell^ j ^. nd Martin would love to

have you in the ho.

—UoC* too.

“But what about my work?” s place any” You didn’t want to manage B^ a” , you’d find

way, did you?

And the town’s quit^ you’re likely something else; in fact, as things 3 y managing a to get something more

important t~l box factory. “ said quietly, They walked on again, and there Lp f about that.

“I’d have to see, Betty. I’d have to : I love you At the moment I only know one tk—^

And I want and I

need you. Oh, how I need y / to marry you.”

The sun was glinting on the river. Martin was sitting on the river bank, his feet dangling an inch above

the water, and glancing to the side of him where Betty lay resting on her elbow in the grass, he said,

“Would it be possible to have a sculler on here, Aunty Bett?”

“A sculler? I don’t see why not, though I don’t know how far you could go without

bumping into a

rock. Still, this part’s clear.”

“I like it here, Aunty Bett.” The boy’s voice was quiet.

“I’m glad of that, Martin.”

“I miss Grandpa, Aunty Bett.”

“I do, too, Martin.”

“And ... I’ve been lonely since Elizabeth was evacuated. It was only last week, but it seems years ago.”

“She’ll write.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“Do you like Lady Mary?”

“Oh yes.” The boy laughed now.

“I think she’s fun. She punched me in the chest this morning and told me I’d have to take boxing

lessons.”

“Boxing lessons!” Betty laughed.

“Why boxing lessons?”

“She said because she always admired boxers.” Their laughter joined now, and Betty

turned her head

to see the lady in question sitting in her chair, with Joe to the side of her, and she sent up a silent prayer

that Lady Mary’s acidity would be watered down this afternoon.

And undoubtedly it was, but questionably, for she was saying now, “If I’d had a daughter I’d have

wished her to be like Betty: plain, so that she wouldn’t have outshone me even in middle age, and

sensible, no damn nonsense. But, of course, she wouldn’t have been: she’d have been

beautiful and

selfish and spoilt and I would be sitting here now bemoaning her neglect of me, and she’d be waiting for

me to die in order to get my money. Oh! Oh! don’t look so disapproving, for the world is full of

mercenary people, and what we won’t own up to is they are part of ourselves, our

offspring.” She

became still for a moment, plucking at a lace ruffle on the front of her gown, then she smoothed the long

skirt down over her knees before she went on, “It would appear that there is going to be a tug-of-war

between us, Mr. Remington, and I’m sure neither you nor I want that. Yet you are bent on marrying

Betty and making her your wife, and rightly so, yes, rightly so, because she is carrying your child. For

myself, I want her, at least partly, for a number of selfish reasons; I want her company, but more so I ... I

don’t want to die alone. However, there is another side to it: I want to give her security; I want to see

her with a place of her own. And mind’ she now wagged her finger at him “ I saw to this before

I had any real suspicion of what was between you both, because I didn’t want her to go on being a slave

to stuffy old women. I’m not a stuffy old woman. No, I’m not. So what are we going to do about it . ?

No, wait; I haven’t finished yet. “ She now pressed her buttocks back on the wicker chair, straightened

her back, turned her head away from his and looked down towards the river bank to

where Betty and

Martin were sitting, and she said quietly, “ It would give me the greatest pleasure to have you live in this

house, permanently, because a home is not really a home unless there’s a man at the head of it. When I

lost my third husband I began to wander from hotel room to hotel room, and when I

finally settled in this

cottage, with the hope that it would be an inducement to Betty to join me, I pictured our life going along

happily together. And undoubtedly it would have done, but without the zest that the

presence of a male

gives to a house. It is the male that makes the family in more ways than one, and so, Mr.

Remington, if

you would care to come and be the head of this house I would welcome you, for then in my dotage I

could imagine that I have not only a daughter but a son, and .. and grandchildren. “

A short period of time followed before she turned and looked at him;

and now, his face breaking into a slow smile, he said gently, “What can I say but thank you, Lady

Mary?”

“Well, that’s settled then. Huh! Huh! After all the worry, fuss and bother it’s as simple as that. Well!

well!” Her voice rose.

“So what are you sitting

there for, with Betty worrying her guts out? Get yourself away! “

As he rose to his feet he nipped at his lip, but his eyes were bright as he looked down on her, until she

said, “I understand you have a coloured half-brother. Well, he’ll be welcome here too. I don’t believe in

the sins of the father, etcetera.”

His face was straight but his eyes held a tender light as he again said, “Thank you,” then added, ‘so very

much, and I hope you will live to . to find me a good son. “

She made no reply, only champed her lips until he was walking away, when she stopped

him with her

strident call: “Is there any chance of your getting any petrol on the side? I like a trip out now and then!”

He turned fully round to face her, and as his body shook with laughter her own face

crinkled and, her

mouth wide, she cried, “Well, they’re all at it, so why not us? See about it!”

Betty was waiting for him; and Martin, too, was on his feet, and he put his arms around them both and

hugged them to him, and Betty asked softly, “It’s all right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all right, except that ... that I’m expected to join the black market. There’s a price to be

paid for everything.”

Joe now pushed Martin gently from him, saying, “Go up and sit with Lady Mary,” and

when the boy ran

off he took Betty’s hand and led her along the river bank until they were hidden from the house by a

group of trees; and there, taking her in his

arms, he held her tightly and, looking into her eyes, he said softly, “It’s all too good to be true. At the

moment I can’t see an obstacle on the horizon; but if one should appear in the future, and I’m serious

about this, promise me one thing.”

“Anything. Anything, Joe.”

“Promise me you’ll never lock your door on me.”

“Oh! Joe. Joe.”

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t. Don’t lock my door on you ... oh! Joe.”

As her laughter died away she saw revealed in his face, perhaps for the first time, the true depth of his

feeling for her. And there rose in her a new estimation of herself: she had the power of someone who

was beloved. An ingredient of love is the fear of loss, and it was this fear that was making her man say,

don’t lock your door on me. She was now a woman who had the power to lock her door

on a man . if

she wanted to . Men were strange. Life was strange, for she felt in this moment she was holding both

Mike and him to her. Both had suffered from women locking their doors on them, and in Joe’s case it

must have been a threat to his manhood, a blow to his ego. But the very fact that he had now voiced his

fear made her feel .. what? Desirable?

Yes, desirable.

She put her mouth on his and held him tightly until lack of breath and the uncomfortable mound of her