A man who cried (37 page)

he could have grabbed the whole business and gone off. Or words to that effect. Anyway, I

thought I was listening to a miracle, I couldn’t believe it was our Hilda writing that letter. She

must have changed.”

236

After a moment, Florrie said quietly, ”I’ll owe her that an’ all. I’ve I’ve put her through an awful time. I feel guilty about it. All the time I feel guilty about it.”

”It was nobody’s fault but her own. She pushed him into it, dragged him into it, an’ by her own

admittance. The judge said he

was weak.” ”He’s not weak!” Her tone was vehement. ”He’s kind, too

kind.”

”Well, have it your own way, but I would say he was soft, damn soft for not putting up a stand

against her getting him into the registry office. Anyway, as I see it, she’s got his sentence halved this mornin’ ’cos he had nothing going for him until that letter was read out. An’ why do

prosecutors have more to say than them that are standing for the defence, eh? My God! you

should have heard how that fellow went at him. It was as if Hitler was being tried. But you know,

prosecution or defence, it’s all a bloody game with them ’cos as I waited outside to give a nod to

Abel there they were, the two of them, walking along together grinning like Cheshire cats, in fact

I heard them laughing as they went through the door. Bugger me eyes ! what chance has anybody

got. I’d like to bet they have it all cut and dried afore they go into the place.” He swallowed the

rest of the whisky and as he put the glass down on a table he moved his head slowly as he said,

”But I’m still surprised he only got nine months.”

Nine months ; but he could be out in six. Even so, she could see the days stretching away, seven

days a week, four weeks in a month. Twenty-four of them before she saw him again ! No, it

needn’t be. She suddenly turned and lifted up the baby. She could go and see him. Of course. Of

course. What was she thinking about? She could visit him. Last night they had talked about

everything under the sun but not about the possibility of visiting him in prison. The last words he

said to her this morning as he held her tightly were, ”Whatever happens, remember there’s only

you, there’ll only ever be you.”

Oh! Abel. Abel.

”Come on, lass, come on. Enough of that now! There’s the bairn to see to, an’ life’s got to be

lived.” He gave a rumbling laugh before he added, ”As long as Hitler keeps his bloody bombs to

hissel.”

237

8

The Reverend Gilmore took up his characteristic pose, that of joining his hands together at his

waist and bending slightly forward, as he said, ”I must talk to you, Hilda; it’s important,

important to both of us. Shall we sit down ?”

”I’d rather not, I’m ... I’m busy.”

The vicar showed no undue surprise at her attitude towards him and he demonstrated this with

his words as he said, ”I understand exactly how you’re feeling, and what you have suffered these

past months. No one knows better than I do, or has felt more for you, but now I must speak

plainly.” He straightened his body slightly before going on. ”You know I have been a friend to

you for years, you have sought my advice and I’ve always given it to you honestly, but now I ...

well, I haven’t come here to give you any advice, I’ve come here to ask you a question. . . .”

”I wish you wouldn’t, Mr Gilmore.” - -•-’:

”Why?” .••’.;•..:•

”Just because I don’t want to hear your question.”

”So you know what it is ?”

”I’ve a pretty good idea.” As she turned from him, his hand shot out suddenly and caught at her

arm and she became still ; then moving her head slowly to the side she looked at him, and when

he said, ”I’m offering you marriage, Hilda, honourable marriage,” she asked tersely, ”The same

as you persuaded me to go through with Mr Maxwell ?”

His chin went up, his body straightened, but he still retained his hold on her, and his voice

changed now as he said quickly, ”You weren’t exactly a young girl, you knew what to expect

from that proposition.”

”I didn’t, not really. No, I didn’t, and I was a young girl, innocent.”

”Then you deceived me, Mr Maxwell, and yourself also; but

238

but now Hilda.” He made to draw her to him and he showed his astonishment when she snapped

her arm from his grasp and, looking him straight in the face, said, ”Mr Gilmore, I wouldn’t marry

you if you were the last man on God’s earth, and I don’t thank you for the offer either. Looking

back, you have caused more harm in my life than good, at least you have caused me to create

more harm in it than good.”

”Hilda! Hilda! How dare you say such a thing.” He was genuinely shocked and showed it. ”You

have changed. This disaster that has fallen upon you has changed your character entirely.”

”Well, if that’s so I’ve got the disaster to thank for something positive. And look, as I said, I’m

busy and . . . and I would like you to leave. And furthermore you needn’t expect to see me in

church again.”

The Reverend Gilmore was stunned into silence, but seeming to remember his vocation, he

apparently forced himself to work at it now, saying slowly, ’Whatever you feel about me, Hilda,

you mustn’t take it out on God. It’s not going to help you at all denying the Almighty.”

”I’m not denying the Almighty, I’m only telling you that I won’t seek Him under your guidance

again, I’ll find my own way to God, at least I hope so.”

”I hope so too. Indeed I hope so.” His tone now was like that of a schoolmaster who had lost a

battle with a pupil ; and he glared down on her for a moment before stalking from the room, and

if the resounding clash echoing from the front door was anything to go by it proved that the vicar

was more than a little put out.

Hilda sat down on the couch and, leaning her elbow on the arm, drooped her head on to the

support of her hand as she asked herself how she had put up with that man’s sanctimonious

twaddle all these years. But to go for him as she had done proved without doubt the change in

her. She couldn’t recognize herself. There had been times of late when she was a little afraid of

what was happening to her. Things that she would have condemned a year ago, and verbally to

Abel, thereby arousing his quiet disdain or open angry comment, now didn’t even attract her

notice.

On nights when, afraid to stay in the house alone, she waited at the open gateway for Dick

returning from his late shift, or from taking Molly to the pictures, and watched the uniformed

men going by, their arms round girls, making for the outskirts and lonely

239

tr

lanes, she no longer thought: Scandalous! it should be put a-s”top to. A different one every night

no doubt. She just let them pass without mental comment. Perhaps the sight of the entwined

figures aroused somewhere in the hitherto shuttered depths of her a feeling akin to jealousy.

Last night while sitting wide-eyed, propped up against the pillows, she had asked herself, would

she now willingly make Abel happy if she was given the chance, and her answer had been that it

was a stupid question, because she would never get the chance. A woman like her never got a

second chance, second chances were doled out to people like Florrie who weren’t afraid to take

them; to people who grabbed at life, and lived it, lived it as if each day was their first and last.

*4
On the sound of three hoots of a car horn penetrating the house, she pulled herself up from the couch. The signal meant that Arthur was in need of help. That was another thing she hadn’t

realized, all the work that Abel had done in the yard. He had not only done the repairs to the odd

car they got in, but repaired all the bikes, and that was a no mean feat when he had to literally

make his own spare parts. He had also seen to the running of the business. She had imagined that

she was running the whole show because she did the books, but during the past months she had

learned differently. She had’also learned that Arthur Baines didn’t work for her as he had done

for Abel ; she was a woman, and as she heard him say, she didn’t know a chassis from a bumper

or a threespeed from an inner tube. She could have enlightened him on these points, but she knew

that if she had words with him, he would walk out, men were scarce, even old men.

She was tired of the business, she was tired of everything. Perhaps when the war ended Dick

would take the business over and she would retire . . . and do what? Go on coach tours, like the

widows with money did before the war; go on a sea voyage hoping to find another man. No, she

mustn’t give up the business, and war or no war she must let Arthur Baines know she was still

here. But oh, the effort.

As she opened the kitchen door she saw Dick hurrying up the yard. It was his day off from the

factory and he had been out since eight o’clock this morning and now it was just on four. She

never asked him where he went because most times when he went out without Molly she knew

where he was bound for. Time and again

240

she had wanted to ask him how Abel was taking things, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it;

and he never mentioned his father. With him leaving early this morning, she guessed where he

was

goingShe stepped back into the kitchen. Arthur Baines could get on

with it whatever it was.

She waited for Dick’s coming, and he smiled at her as he came into the room. As he took offhis

coat he said, ”Phew! I’m hot. . . . You all right?”

”Yes.”

”Anything happened?” ;

”No. Oh well, I had a visit from Mr Gilmpre.”

”Oh!”

”I ... I don’t think he’ll be back again.”

”No ?” Dick showed his surprise, and she shook her head and, her face unsmiling, she said, ”No;

he made me an offer of marriage.”

”Oh Lord!”

”Yes, oh Lord!”

”I’m . . . I’m sorry. You refused him ? You did, didn’t you ?”

”Yes.”

”He’s got a nerve. At his age! he’s near retirement I should say.”

”I think he’s past it, he’s only being kept on because of the war. Anyway, as I said, he won’t be

coming back again, and I won’t be going to hear him.”

”You’re not going to church any more ?” Dick could not prevent his eyebrows from rising.

”Not his anyway; perhaps not any, it’ll all depend how great the need is.”

Impulsively he caught hold of her hand, and when her head dropped on to her chest as she

muttered, ”Oh Dick!” he put his arms around her and said, ”There now. There now.”

When she drew herself away from him she blinked her eyes and rubbed her hand hard over her

lips before asking, ”Have you had anything to eat ?”

”No; I’m starving.”

”Well, hang on just a minute, I’ve got a casserole in the oven. I’ll just slip down and see what

Arthur wants, then I’ll get you something.”

241

... By the time she returned he had set the tabte for both of ! j them and she looked towards it,

saying, ”Oh good!” then having

heaped his plate with the food she put it before him.

He looked at it, then from it to her and said, <’What about [ you?”

”I’m not hungry.”

”You should eat.”

There was a vestige of a smile on her lips now as she said, ”At one time you were always telling

me I was eating too much.”

”Yes, I know, but now you’re eating too little, the flesh is dropi ping off you.”

”Well, that’s all for the best, I’m getting a figure for the first time in me life.”

*****
He took up his knife and fork, but dropping his hands to either

side of his plate he looked down on the food as he said, ”I saw him today and from what I can

gather he’ll be out in a couple of weeks or so.”

He now raised his eyes to hers and she said quietly, ”I’m glad. -

1 Believe me” - she nodded her head - ”I’m glad. I won’t begin to

1 know any peace until he’s free.”

I | ”He asked after you.”

I ” She stared at him for a full minute before she said, ”Don’t be

Ik kind, Dick; I’d rather you didn’t.”

I j He dropped the knife and fork on to the table and, bending for-

I ward, he said, ”I’m not being kind. I’ve never said this before,

I have I, and I’ve been to see him a number of times. I tell you he

I asked after you. What he said was just simple. ’How’s Hilda ?’ he

I said. I think he realizes better than anybody that his stretch would

H have been two or three times the length it is if it hadn’t been for

H that letter you wrote.”

I She walked round the table, then went to the fireplace before

I she said, ”It... it was as little as I could do. I hadn’t played fair

I by him no more than he had played fair by me. I ... I never made

I him happy. You understand ?” She turned her head to the side. ”I

I felt I owed him something. If... if I’d been sensible and not been

I . so damned hidebound he might never have gone to our Florrie,

I even . . . even though I knew he was struck on her from the

I first.”

I Dick stared across the table at the bowed head. It wasn’t the

I first time she had said damn over the last months, nor used the

I 242

term, my God! How she had changed. His dad wouldn’t recognize her. What a pity it was all too

late. •

As he looked at her now he knew he felt for her as if she were his mother, his real mother; and

she had been a mother to him for years. That other woman, that woman in the court that day, God