Miss Mary Martha Crawford (10 page)

She had heard it before, that voice, grim, aggressive, even when it was making a simple statement like, "He's asking you if you want a return ticket."

She now saw the face. It was the man who had stood behind her at the booking office, and he was making for the drawing-room door as if he were familiar with the house.

Oh, that woman . that creature. Not satisfied with ruining her

father. But no, she hadn't ruined her father. She herself had some

rethinking to do here, fresh thinking, truthful thinking. But. but

that man, he must be another of . of her. She couldn't place on him a name such as fancy man, for then she would be putting her father in the same category. Well, wasn't he? And this man, too, was from Hexham.

He had entered the room and closed the door behind him, but she could hear his voice, loud with what might be a threatening note to it. She looked to where the maid was beckoning her to the door and she rose

unsteadily and walked along the passage, and it was as she passed the drawing-room door that she heard the man crying, "You! you little bitch! Do that just once more and you know what I'll do?" And the woman answered, "As usual you'll just talk an' talk Aw' shut up! I've got enough to think about the day...."

Whether she had unconsciously slowed in her walk she didn't know but when the maid, hurrying from the front door, went-to grab at her arm she turned on her a look that said clearly, "Don't touch me!" then she was walking down the steps into the frosty grey stillness of the

street.

Automatically she turned in the direction from which the cab had

come.

She was walking like one in a dream now. When she reached the end of the street she hesitated, not knowing which way to go. She turned

right and after walking through a number of side streets she same into Shields Street, then into a thoroughfare that was broader still; this was Portland Road, and in it, among the traffic, she espied a cab.

Like the cab driver at the station, this one too seemed to

7i sense that she needed to be driven somewhere, and he drew up by the side of the kerb and when she looked up at him and said, "Drive me to the station, please," he merely nodded, and did not, like his

counterpart, ask if she wanted to go by the shortest or longest route, for now she no longer looked, or sounded, like a country kitten come to town. It wasn't until she had almost reached Hexham that the anger in her began to subside, and like a mist clearing from before her eyes she looked through it and back on to the situation. But as she did so a

sickness assailed her, for she knew that no matter how she came to view her father's liaison with that woman there would remain m her a hate of him until the day she died. And in a way she realized now it was he

whom she was hating when she faced the woman. It was he whom she had wanted to strike for it was he who had duped her. and them all, but

mostly he had duped her.

She heard his voice saying, "I'm sorry I can't afford new gowns for you this year, but there are your mother's trunks in the attic; why don't you put the dresses to use, you are so good with your needle my dear.

But leave one trunk, the one with her wedding and party gowns in it. I would like to keep them for remembrance." And all the while he had been showering his money and her mother's jewellery on that person.

And. the house.

The house! He had passed Great-Uncle James's house on to that woman as a deed of gift. Whatever that might mean, it must have been legal.

And he had sold the mill and his shares in the other firms. And all

during the past four years to keep that creature in opulence, and such opulence. For now she could see what had escaped her in those moments of stress, the house had been beautifully decorated, and refurnished.

It was what one would call modem, and not what an old man, like

Great-Uncle James, would have lived with.

Again she heard her father's voice coming over the distance of two

years saying, "Nick will have to carry on alone. He's a lazy beggar anyway, I can't afford to keep two on any longer, and Ned will be

expecting a man's wage this year."

Nick Bailey was in some ways defective but he was not so stupid as to try to do two men's work, as the deterioration of the place showed.

Now like pus spurting from a boil, there came flooding her mind his

constant jocular chastisement of her over petty misdemeanours

concerning the table or his personal linen: should she omit to roll his breakfast bun in a napkin to keep it hot, should the white of his fried egg not be crisped brown while the yokes remained soft, he would bestow on her a pained glance. Even on that very morning he paid his last

visit to Newcastle he had remarked on the crease in the back of his

shirt just below his collar. No, he had admitted, she was right, it

couldn't be seen; nevertheless he was aware of it being there. And

he'd also remarked on the ironing of his handkerchiefs.

"Speak to Dilly," he had said.

"She should after all be able to do such simple work as ironing a handkerchief straight without even thinking about it."

She found her hands gripping the edge of the seat, and the action did not go unnoticed by the two women opposite her, and when one of them, smiling, said kindly, "Don't worry, it's quite safe," she merely nodded at her, loosened her fingers from the seat and joined her hands on her lap.

She was surprised that it was just turned two o'clock when she alighted at Hexham, and as she walked from the station she dwelt on the change in herself between the time she had begun the journey and when it

ended. A bolt of lightning from heaven, had it struck her, could not, she considered, have done more harm to her personality than that

journey. Unreasonably she thought now, she would always hate trains.

On her way to the chandler's she stopped and stood looking into a shop window, asking herself what she must do now. She could not immediately return home in this state, she must have help. Mr. Paine, he must

have known what her father was doing with the money. He must have

known about Great-Uncle James as well. Why hadn't he told her, given her some inkling before she went to that house? She now recalled his choking attack when she had put the question to him about appealing to Great-Uncle James.

When she reached Mr. Paine's office his clerk asked her to take a

seat, Mr. Paine had only that moment come in. He would see if he was not engaged.

Mr. Paine came to the intersecting doors and looked at her for a

moment before coming across the dusty office and taking her hand and saying, "How are you, my dear?"

"I... I haven't made an appointment, is it possible to talk with you?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Come along in." He led her as if she were an invalid into the inner office, which, in contrast to the outer, was

very comfortable and warm, and after she was seated in a leather chair opposite his desk and he himself was seated facing her, he said, "What can I do for you, my dear?"

"I have just returned from Newcastle, Mr. Paine. I went to see

Great-Uncle James and beg his assistance."

They stared at each other and it was Mr. Paine whose gaze dropped

first. Taking up a pen now, he tapped the nib against the ink-well as he said, "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before, but it was very difficult on the day of the funeral, yet if I had spoken, what could I have said? You see--' he now looked fully at her " I knew nothing whatever about your Great-Uncle James dying or the transfer of the

house to a certain person, for almost a year after the event took

place. Your father did not engage me in the transaction, and I only

came to hear of it in. quite a roundabout way. But what could I do?

It was none of my business. But it proved to be the reason for your

father's lack of money, or I should say the quarter in which his money was being used, for after your mother died there was no lack of money, and although the businesses were such that they would never have made fortunes, they should nevertheless have kept you all very comfortable for the remainder of your lives. "

He now leant forward and said softly, "I did try to speak to your father on more than one occasion but he had a disarming way, as you

know only too well, of putting one off. There was always tomorrow."

"Can... can nothing be done against this person?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear."

"She ... she has all my mother's jewellery too. You know, Mr. Paine, my mother had quite a lot of nice pieces; they were her mother's and her grandmother's. They might have been old-fashioned but... but they were of value."

"And this person has them too?" His eyebrows were raised high now.

Tes. My father told me they were in the bank; he . he took them some time ago and said he would keep them there, until we all came of age.

"

"Oh, my dear Miss Grawford." Mr. Paine was now shaking his head.

"It's a sad, sad affair. I don't know when I've dealt with a worse, and I don't know how I can help you. You see, as your affairs stand by the way I say your affairs when it should be Master Roland who should be here now bearing the burden, not you. I understand he has gone back to school."

"Yes, yes, we thought it wise, at least I persuaded him because my--'

she could hardly make herself say the name now 'my father made me

promise I would not divulge anything to Roland. I promised but I did not know what I was promising."

"Then I think you should forget your promise; he should know the situation and why it has arisen."

"My mind is in a most chaotic state at the moment, Mr. Paine, I am sure you will understand this, so if I could think about that part of the matter for a time."

"Yes, yes, of course. But to come back to what I was saying. There is no money whatever except the weekly returns from the two shops. Now

the profits, even jointly, will barely meet the mortgage on the

properties, by these I mean your home and the shops themselves. If you are asking my advice I would say, as I've said before, sell the

chandler's because that after all is the biggest mortgage. Your home being so far out of town and in such an isolated spot is not worth so much in the property market; and then again, I think it is your desire to stay there."

"Yes, yes, it is." Her voice was merely a whisper now; her eyes were wide; she was gulping audibly in her throat, when

Mr. Paine rose and came round the desk and, taking her hand, said,

There, there. There, there. Don't upset yourself, my dear. " He was right. She mustn't distress herself. She mustn't give way to tears,

at least not here; she must wait until she reached home. And not even then, not in front of the others.

What would she tell the others? That would have to ;i wait. Mr.

Paine had just said they could keep their home. I She looked up at

him, her eyes blinking away the burning | sensation under her lids as she said, Til . I'll do anything | that you suggest, Mr. Paine, as

long as we can keep The i Habitation. "

"Yes, yes." He patted her hand; then nodded at her, ; walked round the desk again, sat down, took up his pen once . [ more and studied it

before saying, "I'm sure there's no way you can cut down on household expenses, but you could economize just the smallest bit by letting one of your sisters ; take up a position in the bookshop. How much do you pay the female who is already there?" ] How strange he should make the same suggestion as j Roland. It seemed inevitable that Mildred should work in the shop. She said on a sigh, "Five shillings a week."

"Well, well." He looked to the side, arranged some loose sheets of paper on his desk and tapped the pen once more on the inkwell before he continued, "Five shillings is five shillings. And " then there's the manager. Ducat, isn't it? Yes, yes, I know the gentleman. " He

nodded his head.

"Very well read man from what I gather from our conversations in the shop. Of course, there's no possibility of dispensing with his

services. What is his wage?" "Fourteen shillings a week."

"H'm! him! Fourteen shillings. That doesn't allow for a reduction, not when everyone is crying out to have their wages raised." He nodded towards her now and added in a conversational tone. They all tell you that prices have risen [ over the past year as if the rise in prices didn't affect oneself. Oh, I have my own experience of this. "He glanced towards the door and the outer office, then said, " Well now, what you

have to do, my dear Miss Crawford, is to go home . -,v this matter

over with the family. I think Mastgy u , A should be advised of the

situation. Could he pos^j ^ home for a time? "

"I... I don't think so, unless the matter was very y , " Well, as I see it, this matter is very urgent. but ^ . " ,rf up to you; the burden seems to have fallen on yoy- r i/ ders. But you know my advice, sell the chandlei'g , ,^r doing so you will clear the mortgage, and if the Sa]g j , pit ious then there might be a little over to pay ^ y.y p ^

some of the debts and help you along for the , f months. Anyway--' he again rose to his feet 'it is foy Master Roland, to make the final

decision. And--' og ^ he was holding her hand 'with regard to your tat hp ri- this unfortunate business, try not to let it worry ^ ^ much.

These things happen; unfortunately they ^onp i<. the time, but I can well understand what a shock tl" , i / , "ie revels at ion has been to you.

She wetted her lips twice before she asked, "Doyg " ,; many people are aware of, of the matter, I mi^, . x. town? " He veiled his eyes for a moment, then said, " Wel -f. but say truthfully there was some

interest as to wiy ip u the hatter's and his share in the glove

factory, but hq. ,. ,1why he got rid of the mill, and having done so s11| j-j : settle his debts in the town. There were, I s^ r . " , rumours and guesses; but I don't think anything; came to light."

There was a pause before she said, "Thank yoi fg . help, Mr. Paine, I am very grateful. I will do as y^ sup-o-py- : and ... and think the