house of women (32 page)

"Yes, you could do that, but from what I understand from the solicitor you'd come off badly."

"It's scandalous, vicious. I looked after her for sixteen years; and not only that, I had to put up with your father, and ... and she knew what I went through."

"What you went through with my father. Mother, was nothing compared with what you and Great- gran contrived to make me go through by insisting that I marry Andrew Jones, when I begged you not to let it happen to me. And what I've gone through since didn't affect you. Well now, as a way of payment it seems she has left it all to me, on

conditions. But, of course, knowing her, she wouldn't rest in her grave if she thought she hadn't caused complications."

"Almost a quarter of a million pounds! " Lizzie voice was almost at hysteria point again' and the Works, besides the bonds and the property that none of us knew anything about. It isn't fair. It isn't fair. "

She looked up at Henry, and he, quietly but with a tinge of bitterness in his voice, said, " No, | it isn't fair, dear, it isn't fair. But listen to what Peggy has to say. "

Peggy was staring at her mother; and her face was tight as she brought her words through almost closed lips: "You think it isn't fair what's happened to you. Well, I think it isn't fair what's

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happened to me. Great-gran's left me a very rich woman (/, and it is a big if. I always told her that I wanted to get away from this house, but she's fixed me there, for if I leave it within the next ten years I don't get a penny. Charlie was partly right when jokingly he said to me earlier that she could leave it between the Salvation Army and the Dogs' Home. Well, among other charities, she has mentioned the

Salvation Army. My first reaction was to let the money go to the Salvation Army and the Dogs' Home for it wasn't going to tie me here; but then May pointed out something:

it says nothing in the will about my taking long holidays away from here, as I remember the wording of the will, only that this was to be my residence. " She looked at May now.

"So I have decided. May, it will still be my residence between times when I'm not travelling." She now turned to Charlie.

"And as May also pointed out, I can have the place ripped out inside and re-done to my own taste, make it into a modern interior. There's nothing in the will to say I can't do that. This being so, the money, the business, and the rest are mine. I am, as I said, a very rich woman; but I don't want to be a very rich woman, so I've decided to share it. I'm quartering it. Mother, you'll have a quarter of the money and a percentage of the profits from the Works."

Lizzie's head wagged now and her lips were pressed tightly together before she said, "A quarter. That's very kind of you; a quarter."

"It (s very kind of me, Mother. Think on it; it is very kind of me.

I'm dividing the money into four. "

"Four? Who are the others? There's only yourself and Emma."

"Yes, there's myself and Emma and two others." She now turned and looked at May.

"There is May, and you. Mother."

"Oh no!" May's disbelief was expressed in the wagging of her head.

"No, no! lass, you can't do that."

"I can do that. May. You have been a friend to everybody in this house for years: you stood by my mother, although she seems to have forgotten that;

you certainly stood by me. You also had hopes, great hopes for your son. Well, he has fulfilled them in one way, but not in another. You and I know what I mean, but you never turned against me because of it;

you've always been there. And of all the people I'm pleased to share the money with, you are the best because Emma would never have been short of money;

Richard would be in a position to see to that. "

"I've heard everything now," Lizzie said and got to her feet, at which Peggy turned on her, crying, "All right! If this doesn't satisfy you, there's nothing yet in writing. I'll divide it into three; you

might feel better if you have nothing whatever to thank me for. "

"I should have nothing to thank you for, girl, if I was getting my rights."

"Be quiet! Lizzie. Be quiet." Henry put his hand on his wife's shoulder, while looking at Peggy and saying quietly, "Thank you, Peggy.

I think you're being very fair, more than fair. And I understand the position you're in."

"Thank you. Henry. It's good to hear you say so."

As Lizzie shrugged herself from her husband's hold and marched from the room. May, after glancing at Peggy, hurried after her. And in the hall she caught her by the arm, saying, "I knew nothing about this. I never dreamt. And I know how you feel. Lizzie."

"Do you. May?"

"Yes, yes, I do."

The tears now spurted out of Lizzie's eyes as she muttered, "Tisn't fair. Tisn't fair."

"No, your grandmother was never fair, but Peggy is. She didn't want that money. Lizzie. All she wanted was to get away with Charlie, leave this house and start up a life of her own, that's all she

wanted.

She's said so again and again. But she's been chained here for

years.

You know she has. But now there are escape routes for her. So . so try to be happy for her. "

"It's all right for you, May' Lizzie was walking towards the door.

Henry by her side now' you hadn't to put up with Grandmother. "

"No, perhaps not; but it's all in the past now, so try to make the best of it."

May remained standing at the door until Lizzie and Henry had got into the car; she then closed it and stood leaning against it for a

moment.

How people changed. Lizzie would never forgive Peggy;

it would always stick in her neck. Yet, really, she should be thinking herself lucky that she'd got anything. Peggy could have kept the lot, but what had she done? She had divided it up, and even given her a share. Eeh! she couldn't really believe that: no more begging and scraping, making ends meet to keep respectable. She was lucky. Eeh!

she was lucky. She hurried back into the breakfast-room now and, going straight to Peggy, she took her hand and she said, "Peggy, that was something you needn't have done. You owe me nothing, because, like Charlie, I've loved you since you were a hairn. But to think that you've shared that fortune with me, it's like a miracle happening.

Thank you, lass. Oh, thank you. " She put her arms around her and held her close, and Peggy said in a small voice and on a broken laugh,

" It's in payment for Charlie. "

Apart from the uncontested divorce, two incidents occurred that seemed to close the final chapters on Peggy's way of life and leave the way clear for the new one she was -about to start tomorrow, when she would accompany Charlie for the first time abroad. The past weeks had been filled with business meetings with the solicitor and the working out of documents with regard to the division of her money. A fortnight before Charlie and she had been married and had spent a few days of their honeymoon touring the South Coast. Since then, the time had been mostly spent in poring over diagrams for the reconstruction of the house, deciding on colours and wallpapers; also the buying of furniture that was to await their return, mostly beds and carpets. All this, in their absence, was to be supervised by May and Frank because they would be away for at least six weeks, as Charlie had engagements in France, Germany and Spain.

She was going into Newcastle to pick up a suit that she was having altered. She was going in by

train, and had left her car in the station car park and was walking towards the station entrance when a woman, coming through the opening, hesitated as she looked at her, then stopped and said, "Mrs. Jones."

Then after a second added, "You don't recognise me, then? I'm ... I'm Rosie, Rosie Milburn. I've ... I've always wanted to meet you and say something."

Peggy stared at the woman before her; she seemed to have no connection with the Rosie Milburn that had been so helpful in the house. And yet, on closer inspection she realised it was because this woman had hardly any flesh on her bones and Rosie had been plump, all over.

Her voice was stiff as she said, "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Well, you know' the head wagged' just to say I'm sorry, but .. but I couldn't help me self at the time. I knew later I had been a damn fool but ... but you've got to learn, haven't you? He was a swine but I stuck by him. I'm glad he got his desserts, although it wasn't long enough. He left me high and dry without a penny and I could have claimed the house. I could have: it was in my name. I don't know where I'd have been if I hadn't put a bit by of me own when I was working. But that's not the point; I just ... well, I always wanted to say I was sorry. But ... but I did you a good turn,

I suppose; well, you know what I mean: took him off your hands at least part of the day . you know what I mean," the head was wagging again.

Peggy felt a rising pity in her for the creature that Rosie Milburn had become, and her voice sounded kindly as she said, "Are you living in the town again?"

"Aye. I've been back some time. I'm with me brother again. He's bed-ridden, but I'm not goin' to be daft this time. I told him I wouldn't stay unless he put it in writing about the house. When he goes, I'll get the house, and that's something: I won't be left high and dry this time. And by the time he goes I'll have paid for it because he hasn't improved; he's awful to live with; all wants and no thanks. But... but that isn't the point, as I said; I... I just wanted to say again that I'm sorry. He'll ... he'll come to a bad end; yes, he will. He was always on about his daughter, you know. He had a mania for her. Well, he's lost her, but he's got two more now."

Peggy's whole face stretched as she said, "What do you mean, he's got two more?"

"Oh, he's taken up with a divorced woman yon end of Gosforth, I understand. Nice house an' all and she's got two hairns, two little lasses, one three and one five. He might think he's fallen on his feet but he'll come to a bad end, you'll see ... I hear you're going to be married again?"

"I am married."

"Oh, I'm glad. Is it to the lad next door? I mean, Mr'Conway?"

"Yes, it's to Mr. Conway."

That's good; he was a nice fella. Made a name for himself an' all with his guitar. I once heard him play; he made that thing sing. "

When she became silent and stood, her eyes blinking, her fingers twitching one against the other, Peggy said, "I ... I must go else I'll miss my train."

"All right. Goodbye. Just a minute."

As Peggy moved away a hand came out and clutched her arm, saying,

"D'you forgive me?"

"Oh yes, don't worry about that; in fact, I never blamed you, Rosie.

And I missed you when you left, so don't worry any more. "

When the face crumpled she turned swiftly away and made for the ticket office. Poor soul. How could anyone change so much and in so short a time, because it was only a comparatively few years ago that she had been a plump, pretty, laughing, likeable young woman.

She was saddened by the meeting and wondered if she could do anything for her, but told herself, no, she'd better not. Anyway, no matter what she looked like, apparently she wasn't destitute.

In Newcastle she picked up the altered suit. The morning had turned slightly chilly and a fine rain

was beginning to fall, so she decided to go into a restaurant and have a coffee. But the first one that she approached appeared full and when, further along the street, she came to a self-service cafeteria, she went hastily inside.

With a cup of tea in her hand she went to an empty table, and she had almost finished the drink when somebody at a near table exclaimed,

"Look, it's still raining but the sun's coming out." She turned her head over her shoulder and looked through the window to where the wet road was glistening in the watery sunshine, and as she turned her head back she noticed a family leaving a table and moving towards the doorway. The woman looked young, in her mid-twenties and was smartly dressed, as were the children. The man had his back to her for a moment until he stopped to lift up the smaller of the two girls, and now his head seemed to be on a level with her own. She watched him hug the child to him, then straighten up, and now he stood glaring at her for a moment. She imagined he was going to make a move towards her, but what he did was j| hitch the child closer to him until its face was almost pressed against his own and then he smiled a smile that widened his full lips but, as she had seen before, did not separate his teeth.

The young woman now looked over her shoulder and spoke to him; she was pretty and she looked happy. She began to push up

an umbrella while he put his hand down and caught the hand of the elder child that was held up towards him, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on herself. Then something the woman said drew him through the doorway.

She now heard the children's gurgling laughter and she turned her head on her shoulder again and looked through the window. The woman was holding the umbrella over him and the children and she was laughing into his face. Then the umbrella was tilted and she saw the back of them as they moved away out of her sight.

She sat back in her chair, her body trembling. That look on his

face.

It was as if he had said, "Look what I've got now; two for the price of one." And that girl, or that woman, or that wife; had he married her?

How long would she be happy when she found out where his true love lay?

Would she be like many another woman, keep her mouth shut while her children's lives were marred and scarred for ever?

She wanted to go home; no, not home; she wanted tomorrow to come and get away. She wanted Charlie's arms about her. She wanted his love, something good and clean . An hour later she was in his arms in his mother's sitting-room and she was pouring out the incident in the cafe.

And when she ended, "It'll be the case of Emma over again, only with both of them," he

shook her gently by the shoulders saying, "You can do nothing about it. Yet, something is being done about it; it's coming into the

open;