Justice Is a Woman (10 page)

led away from the kitchen garden and the greenhouses and into a narrow belt of

woodland.

When she came to the end of the strip of woodland she found she had also reached the

extent of the

grounds, for here she came up against a fence. It was low, only three and a half feet high, and made of

staves wired together. The path itself ended at the fence but to the right of her was a patch of rough

scrubland, with hawthorn and bramble, that had overgrown the fence in places.

She was about to turn and retrace her steps when a piece of sacking protruding from the bushes near the

fence caught her eye. The fact that it didn’t look like old sacking made her curious.

Stepping from the

path she approached the bushes and parted the branches to reveal a partly filled sack, its top folded over

to cover its contents.

Slowly she bent down and flipped back the top and her surprised gaze saw a loaf partly wrapped in

paper, a brown—paper bag and below these carrots and onions and potatoes. She

straightened her

back and looked about her, then looked down into the sack again and, stooping, she

opened the paper

bag. It held a number of sausage rolls, some queen cakes and, wrapped in a piece of

grease proof

paper, a solitary chop.

She fastened up the paper bag again, folded the top of the sack into the shape she had found it, then

stepped back on to the path.

“Well, well.”

She walked now into the woodland and stood against a tree. The land in front of her and beyond the

fence sloped away, and in the distance she made out the dark huddle of houses that was the village,

topped by the pit-head, and the greater huddle beyond them that was the town. And she asked herself

what she was going to do about her find.

Someone in the house was evidently helping families down there. Well, from the little she had seen.

God knew they needed help. But was it fair? It was Joe’s money, or his father’s, that was being, she

had almost said, squandered. No, it was certainly not being squandered, and stolen wasn’t the right

word. Oh no! in this case stolen wasn’t the right word.

Her thinking was checked by the sound of foot steps crushing the dry leaves, and now she moved

behind the tree and pressed her back against the trunk and remained still. When the two figures passed

by her she saw they were the half-caste chauffeur David and his wife.

They were carrying two sacks each. She watched as they placed the sacks, not behind the bushes with

the others, but in the open along by the fence. Then she saw the girl pointing towards some figures now

approaching up the slope. She was in a quandary: if she moved, David and his wife

would hear her, for

around her feet was a carpet of dried leaves; if she remained where she was, the men, for now she could

see they were men who were approaching, could not help but see her.

The men had already seen her by the time she coughed, and it must have seemed like the crack of a gun,

for it caused David and Hazel to swing around and stare in her direction.

In the seconds that passed as neither they nor Betty moved, the men had reached the

railings and now

they too, taking in the situation immediately, stared at her.

She forced herself to take a step from the trees and, nodding towards David, to say, “It’s all right, carry

on.”

It sounded to her own ears as if she were back in the Army: It’s all right, corporal. Carry on.

The deep breath David let out would not have been one of shame at being found out, but of a quick

decision: turning quickly, he lifted up the sacks and handed them to the waiting men.

When each man was holding two sacks they all remained still as if formed of one body, then the

oldest-looking among them, a thin-jowled, black—capped middle-aged man, nodded

towards her and

muttered, “Thank God, miss.”

She stood as the men hurried away down the slope; watching them until they disappeared in a clump of

bushes, only to emerge within a moment or so, pushing what appeared to be a square

wheelbarrow, and

she was quick to realise that the sacks would now be camouflaged.

She hadn’t noticed David and Hazel walking towards her and she turned her head sharply in their

direction when David said, “He knows, miss.

The .. the boss, miss, he knows about it. “

“Oh well, that’s all right then.” She smiled.

“But ... but not the missis ... not madam.”

Again she said “Oh!” Well, this was no surprise; she wouldn’t expect Elaine to play

godmother to the

pit people, for apparently they were anathema to her. She had soon learned that Elaine disliked them not

only as a class, but more so because of Joe’s attitude towards them;

and, above all, she had learned that Elaine couldn’t tolerate this dark fellow here, nor his wife.

“Well, don’t worry; she won’t hear anything from me. As long as her husband knows

then, in a way,

you are just... well, just carrying out his orders.”

She watched the couple smile at each other with a deep warm ness and the look in their eyes brought

into life a peculiar feeling, the only feeling she was really afraid of, the feeling that had the power to grease

the lock on the door of the closed room of her mind, the empty, starkly bare room

wherein nothing

existed but aloneness.

“They are having it very rough, miss. It’s the hairns most of all, and the week-ends

always seem the

worse. They ... they always looked forward to a bit of a dinner on a Sunday, so we do this every 97

Saturday. Mary ... I mean Mrs. Duffy, saves us the bits and pieces from the house, and the boss says I

can have the surplus from the garden. But even so I’ve had to cut down on their rations, for we never

thought the strike would last this length of time.”

“How much longer do you think it will go on?”

“Oh, that’s anybody’s guess, miss. If they give in now they’re finished, for good an’ all, they’re finished;

it’s a kind of war. One thing’s certain: they won’t give in for themselves nor yet for their wives, but it’ll

be the hairns that’ll break the back of the strike;

it’ll be for them they’ll give in. “

“But they’re being helped, aren’t they? I mean, there are people providing food?” She didn’t say soup

kitchens, as it sounded so much like condescending charity.

“Aye, yes.” David sighed now.

“People are kind. They do their best, but ‘tisn’t good enough to keep body and soul

together. And you

know, miss, it isn’t only the food, it’s the loss of pride. Somehow if a man has to beg or grovel for food,

or be numbered two hundred and ten in a queue for it, it strips him of his manhood.

Things like that

shouldn’t be allowed. We’re all human beings whatever our work, or or our colour.”

He naturally stood head and shoulders above his wife, but his making this statement

seemed to increase

his stature further, and she, putting her hand out and taking his gently, spoke for the first time, saying,

“David, David; miss doesn’t want to go into all that.”

“Oh, but I do, I do. I agree with what your husband said.” Betty was smiling at Hazel and Hazel smiled

back at her, and what she said now surprised and embarrassed Betty, for it was almost the same words

as Mike had said to her yesterday, “I’m glad you’ve come, miss, and I hope you stay a long time.”

“Thank you. Thank you. I’m ... I’m glad to be here.” She smiled at them, then turned and walked up

the path; and they walked with her;

and when they neared the greenhouses where the path divided, she continued with them

and a few

minutes later, on a note of surprise, she said, “Good gracious! there’s the gates. I didn’t know there

was a path this way. And there’s your house across the drive.”

“Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea, miss?” Betty looked from one to the other; then her

large mouth stretching wide, she said, “Yes, I would. Thank you.” And her round brown eyes twinkling,

she leaned forward towards them and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t suppose you have any

sausage rolls left?”

For a moment David and Hazel looked at each other, then back at her, and now their

joined laughter

rang out loud on the frosty air. And the echo of their laughter reached the house and it brought Ella

upright from where she was emptying a pail of ashes on to the dry midden and she smiled as she thought,

“That’s funny to hear first thing in the morning; I wonder what the joke And the sound of laughter wafted

its way in through the open window to Mike’s bed, where he was sitting propped up after a sleepless

night and waiting impatiently for his breakfast; and it caused him to turn his head towards the window as

he thought: Laughing at this time of the mornin’. What’s there to laugh about at this time of the mornin’ ?

And the echo of it reached Joe as he crossed the hall to the dining-room, causing him to stop for a

moment, then walk to the front door and open it. Somebody laughing like that at eight in the morning! It

was a long time since he had heard laughter like that around here; not since he and David used to dive

into the lake during the holidays. He closed the door quietly. Ah well, those days were gone, never to

return.

And Elaine, pouring out her first cup of tea from the silver teapot, paused as the sound of the laughter

came to her through the open window, and it reminded her strongly of a laugh that used to grate on her.

Betty’s laugh. Betty had a coarse laugh; what was termed a belly laugh. But surely she wasn’t out at this

time of the morning. She turned her head and looked towards the window. No, no.

Anyway, what

could she be laughing at in the garden? It must be some of those hobbledehoys from the village sneaking

about to see what they could thieve ..

Joe had almost finished his breakfast when Betty hurried into the dining-room, and she apologised both

to him and to Ella, who had just entered the room carrying a fresh pot of tea: “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said,

‘but but I went for a walk in the garden and the time slipped by. “

“You went for a walk in the garden?” Joe repeated the words slowly.

“Yes ... Yes.”

She sat down and lifted up the cover of the bacon dish.

“It was early to go walking in the garden, wasn’t it?”

“Best time, I think.” She pronged two slices of bacon, a sausage and a piece of fried bread onto her

plate.

Joe wiped his mouth on his napkin before he said casually, “Which part did you get to? I don’t think

you’ve been all over it, have you?”

“I have now ... This is lovely bacon, Jane,” she said, turning to look at Ella, who was standing as if stuck

against the sideboard.

“We never get bacon like this in the south. It’s what you call green bacon, isn’t it? ... You have large

grounds.” She had brought her eyes back to her plate, and now raised them without

moving her head

and looked across the table towards Joe.

“Yes; yes, there’s quite a lot.”

“I got right to the boundary this morning ... And these sausages are good, too.” Again she turned and

looked towards Ella, and Ella stared back at her, but didn’t move or answer.

“Did you meet anyone while you were out on your early walk?” The question also

sounded casual.

“Oh yes, yes.” She reached over now and lifted a silver jug towards her, saying, “I think I’ll have coffee

instead of tea this morning;’ then went on as she poured out the coffee, “ I ran into David and Hazel

and—’ Now she paused, placed the coffee jug back on the table, then screwed up her

eyes as she

ended, “Funny, but I didn’t catch the names of the others; the other men.”

Joe and Ella exchanged quick glances; then Joe, crushing his napkin between his hands, placed it on the

table and, leaning forward, he said slowly, “Betty.”

“Yes, Joe?” She waited.

“You want to say something?”

He ran his tongue around his lips, glanced again at Ella, nodded at her, which was a

signal for her to

leave the room, although at this point she didn’t seem to understand, then swallowed

deeply and

remained mute, for he couldn’t say to Betty in front of Ella, “For God’s sake! don’t let on to Elaine about

this.” But in the next moment he knew that there would be no need for that, for, after taking a drink from

her cup, Betty said, “I don’t usually like coffee first thing in the morning but I’ve just had two cups of tea

with David and Hazel, and the last of she paused and made the slightest movement of her head towards

Ella as she ended ‘the sausage rolls.”

Again there was laughter, spluttered, smothered laughter on Joe’s part, uninhibited on Betty’s, although

the sound Ella gave vent to was almost hysterical, and she hadn’t subdued it fully as she crossed the hall.

Mike, sitting further up in the bed, said aloud, “What’s going on in this house this

morning? It’s like a

pantomime.”

And Elaine, hearing the renewed laughter, muttered to herself with deep indignation,

“That’s the girl;

either Joe or Betty has been joking with her. I wonder what next. This situation is

becoming

impossible.” But then it wasn’t likely to be Joe who had caused Jane so to forget herself as to laugh

aloud, and at that pitch, because Joe knew her feelings with regard to the servants and he wouldn’t upset

her, not in her present condition. No, it would be Betty; she had a way of hobnobbing with the servants,