the maltese angel (47 page)

cow."

It was when the bottle was half-empty that she heard Mike come into the byre, and he was talking to someone.

"You see," he was saying, 'look at the length of this place. There's plenty to do an' this is just half of 'em. So, what we need here is more hands, not to lose any. "

And now she heard a voice, one that she didn't recognise, reply, "Well, I should say you're safe enough."

"And so are all the others, mister."

"I understand you have a son working for you."

"Aye, you've been well informed. Me son does work here, but he's on forty. So, I should think it's been a waste of your journey trying to recruit round here."

"Oh, not entirely, not entirely. I got four from the village

yesterday."

"Huh! I bet they were half canned." Janie now heard the stranger's voice turn to laughter as he replied, "Well, not quite, but it helps, it helps. By! that's a funny village of yours down there."

"It isn't my village, mister, never has been."

"No? You don't seem to think much of it."

"You're right there, you're right there."

"Well, if one believes only half of what that lot get talking about in the inn there's no love lost. By! they can spin the yarns like

fairy-tales.

But I suppose there was something in it, for they say all the mischief started when your boss jilted a lass in the village and went and

married a dancing piece from Newcastle. Is there any truth in that?

"

"There's truth in part, mister. She was no piece, she was a lady."

"Oh! But did he jilt anybody?"

"I don't know so much about that. I can only repeat what I've said: his wife was a lady. "

"Well, is it true that the supposed jilted one set fire to the place?"

"She didn't set fire to the place, just a field."

"Oh, just a field. Well, as I said they spin the yarns down there.

They even said she killed the wife, I mean .. dancing lady, with a catapult. I laughed at that, but they swore it was true. "

There was silence in the barn for a moment; then the stranger's voice said again, "They say he had her put away in an asylum, and there she is to this day."

Still Mike made no reply until the stranger said, in a low tone now:

"If what they said next is true, I'd put them down as a rotten spiteful lot of buggers, for they said that three of the village blokes raped his daughter, and her but a lass of fifteen. And she had a child and the lass is of an age now ... Well, I gather by your silence there was some truth in it. By God! All I can say is, I would have helped that lass's father to strip those buggers, as they said he did, an' pin 'em up on the church screen. By! I would. And I would have helped to

flail them an' all. They deserve to be shot. And you know something?

I didn't like the village when I came into it. I'm a recruiting

sergeant, right enough, an' I take all I can get me hands on, because that's me duty, but as I said, I never liked that village from when I first smelt it; and I've been in lots of villages. They're all

peculiar in their own ways. Give me the city any time. And it's true what I said, mister, I didn't believe half of it. But I can see now, as I said, by your still tongue, I didn't know the half of it.

That child will never find out from where she sprang, will she? And they talk about the atrocities of the bloody Germans and what they did to the Belgian women! Well, I would say you couldn't go much further than this village. Anyway, we'll be leaving it the night and I won't be sorry. But thank you, mate, for showing me around. And I'll take your word the whole place is run by old codgers. "

There was the sound of laughter now, then the byre door closed, and the empty bottle dropped out of janie hand on to the straw. And she sat staring across the calf at the wall opposite ..

How long she sat there she never knew, but she didn't seem to come to herself until Jessie's voice said, "Have you gone to sleep, dear?"

She turned to see Jessie standing in the opening to the little byre, and she gave her no answer but tried to stretch out her legs, which had gone into cramp. And when Jessie's hands came under her arms and

lifted her up and her voice said, "Did you fall asleep?" she muttered,

"Yes. Yes, I must have."

Jessie now stooped and picked up the empty bottle, saying, "It drank it all. And oh, it looks more lively. Come along."

As they walked up the byre Jessie, bending down to her, said, "You must have fallen asleep; you look dozy. Are you all right? You're not

feeling tired?"

Janie shook her head slowly.

"No," she said; 'it . it was warm in there. "

"Yes. Yes, and you must have dropped off to sleep. Come and have a cup of tea. I've made some of those scones you like."

Janie drank a cup of tea and forced herself to eat a scone.

"Must I have my history lesson this morning? I ... I could do it later on today."

Jessie looked at her closely.

"Well, you have done your English and geography," she mused.

"Yes, I sup pose you could have your history lesson later. But what do you wish to do instead?"

"I ...I would just like to take a walk."

Jessie remained silent for a moment. She had just checked herself from saying, "You won't go over to the Hall again, will you? I mean, you mustn't trouble them." But she knew if she voiced those words a look would appear on janie face that she had come to dread. The only name she could give to it was withdrawal; and oh, she didn't want her

child, as she still thought of her, to move away from her again,

because lately, through not penning her in any way they had become close. Nevertheless she was worried about the association with that man, who had outrageous ideas and was said to be a conscientious

objector. Oh, how she wished they would force him into the services, so that his absence would break his self-imposed responsibility for her.

"You won't go far, will you? You get tired so easily, you know."

"I won't get tired, Auntie Jessie. I'll walk slowly."

"Well then, you must wrap up well. Come and put on your thicker coat and your woollen hat."

She now helped Janie into her outdoor clothes, and lastly she put a woollen muffler around her neck before handing her her gloves. Then stooping, she kissed her cheek, saying, "Don't be long now, dear, because it will soon be dinner time."

Without giving her aunt any response other than a smile, Janie turned and left the cottage, walked across the yard and into the road; then along it until she came to the stile. Having crossed this, she walked half round the perimeter of the field, pulled herself up into a sitting position on top of a low stone wall, then swung her legs over and

walked across the meadow and into the wood. Beyond this, she skirted another field before arriving at the edge of the small holding and from there she made her way towards the first of the long greenhouses; but seeing Gerald apparently in serious conversation with McNamara, she stopped. But presently McNamara pointed towards her; and then there he was .. her nice man, standing before her, saying, "Where have you sprung from? This is a coincidence. I was just on my way to visit

you."

"You were?"

"Yes. Yes, I was. I ... I wanted to tell you something. Come

along;

come into the house. "

39x

She did not move, but said, "Could ... could we go to the cottage first?"

He looked down on her for a moment before saying, "Yes. Yes, of course, if you wish." And so they walked side by side along a roughly hewn path until they came to the cottage. The outside had been cleared of dank grass and weeds and the door was now upright on its hinges. He pushed it open; then when they were both inside and he had closed the door, he shivered and said, "Well there's one thing: we can't remain long in here, it's enough to freeze you. But come and sit down a

minute."

They went into the next room, which no longer held the bed. Its window had been mended, and the presence of a number of large wooden crates showed it had been used as a storeroom.

She sat down on one of the crates, and he pulled another in order that he could sit opposite to her. And now, bending forward, he said,

"Something wrong?"

"I ... I don't know. What I mean is, yes, there is something wrong.

But it must have happened a long time ago. A lot of wrong things

happened a long time ago. And that's why I am--' she stopped now and shook her head, then said, The. "

His voice was quiet when he spoke, saying, "You're beating about the bush. What has happened?" He now watched her bend forward and put her joined hands between her knees, and this, as always, indicated her troubled mind. Then she started: "I was in the cow byre," she said,

'we've got a sick calf; I was feeding it. No-one could see me; it's partitioned off. Then Mike came in. I recpgnised his voice but not the man's who was with him. From what I know now, he is one of those men who go around gathering recruits. Well, he was in a public house in the village and he heard things that he didn't believe or only

half-believed. And he asked Mike if they were true or not. "

She lifted her head and looked at him, and she said, "Now I know what it's all about: why ... why I am lonely, always have been lonely; and why, when I once asked Auntie Jessie if my mother was upstairs ill, and where my father was, and why wasn't he with her, she screamed at me and yelled, " He's dead. He's dead! Do you hear? He's dead! " And now I wish he was dead, because I don't know who my father is, do I?"

The words that were passing through his mind could have been considered blasphemous. He continued staring back into her eyes, when all the while he wanted to turn away from her, or yell in much the same manner as Jessie had done: not "He's dead! He's dead!" but "It doesn't matter who your father was. You are you, yourself, and you are a

wonderful little girl, one growing rapidly into a tall big girl."

Oh, my God! what was he going to say? This shouldn't be happening to him. That stiff-necked individual should in some way have broken it to her.

Yet, how could anyone break such news to a thinking child? But no; she was no longer a child; she had never been a child. They had never

allowed her to be a child. She had a mind and she used it. A mind

that had been cultured in an adult school without love, or with such love that was frustrated through fear. He put out his hands now and gathered hers into them. Then, his voice cracking on the words, he said, "It makes no matter who your father was' he could not say which one was your father 'you are yourself, someone very special; and not only to your aunt, but ... but to me. Yes, to me." He nodded at her.

"Always remember that." And now feeling he had found a way to take her mind off the present situation by enlisting her sympathy for him, he added, "I may not see you for a long, long time after today. I ... I'm leaving in a few hours."

"No! Not She was on her feet now, her knees touching his, her hands still between his, pressed against his chest;

and again she cried, "No! No! Oh, please, please don't go. You are the only one I have."

"I've ... I've got to, my dear. I am not going into the Army because, as I think I told you, I'm against killing people, but ... but this is a kind of job that others don't like doing, you know. "

She closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side in a

despairing fashion as she said, "I will have nobody. Nobody."

"Look at me. I shall write to you and you will write to me; and in the meantime you must continue to come over and see my mother. She's very fond of you, and you can keep her company now and again."

"She's not you. I can't talk to her, tell her things like I can to you. You're the only one I can talk to. And now I know this dreadful thing, I won't be able to speak about it to anyone else."

"Well, that's as it should be: it is all past and finished with; you now have only yourself to contend with. By that I mean ..."

Shaking her head impatiently, she interrupted him; "I know what you mean," she said, "I know what you mean. You mean that I shall never get rid of this well, what I know."

' I mean nothing of the sort. I mean, as you grow older your common sense will tell you that it is something you've got to accept. You cannot change yourself. You are what you are' he paused 'a very

beautiful person. "

When she fell against him he put his arms about her, but when he felt her body shudder he pressed her gently from him, saying, "Now, now. No tears. I don't want to remember you with a wet face." When her eyelids blinked rapidly he leaned forward and put his lips gently on her brow.

But when her arms came around his neck he bit tightly on his lip and pulled himself to his feet. His own lids moving rapidly now, he looked down on her, saying, "Come along. We'll go and see my mother." But when she said quickly, "No, no. Please not now. And anyway, I promised I wouldn't be long. But I will, I will come and see her soon.

Yes,

very soon, because she will tell me what you are doing. And . and

you will write to me? "

"Oh yes, I will write to you. And I will expect long letters back mind."

"I have never written a letter to anyone, but I can write well."

"Then you must practise your letter writing on me."

They were outside the cottage now and when he said, "I will see you to the stile," she answered quickly, "No. No. I'll leave you here. I...

I would rather. Yes, I would rather I left you here because this is where we first met. I don't count the time by the wall."

He held out a hand now, saying, "Goodbye then, my dear." And she, placing hers in it, said, "Goodbye," then she turned and walked away from him. And he watched her until she had disappeared into the

thicket.

Slowly now he made his way back to the Hall, and there, after telling his mother what had transpired, he said, "Keep an eye on her, will you, dear? Make her welcome. Try to get her to talk' he smiled 'if it's only about me."