Justice Is a Woman (20 page)

friend. Betty was

surprised that Joe hadn’t objected to these visits, which often kept Elaine away for two or three nights at

a time; but on these nights he himself didn’t return from the factory until eight or nine in the evening. And

then there were his visits to the Brookses, which had become more frequent since Hazel’s baby was

born in April, strangely, on the same day that Martin was born two years before, a

coincidence which

had incensed Elaine. Betty recalled Elaine’s anger at the time when Joe, stopping the car at the gates on

the sight of Hazel sitting outside nursing the baby, had got out, taken the child in his arms and brought it

back to the car, saying, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

And undoubtedly Hazel’s baby was beautiful. And there was very little sign of the

father’s colour about

her.

Yes, she had to admit to herself that there were times when she saw Elaine’s point of view with regard

to Joe’s affection for David and his wife. Granted he and David had been brought up

together, granted

he had compassion for the man, but even so his treatment of him and his wife was

unusual: it was as if he

loved them .. loved him. When this thought had first occurred to her, she had felt some embarrassment,

yet it gave her an insight into Elaine’s feelings on the subject and she couldn’t help but be in sympathy

with her on this issue at least ..

“What are you thinking about, staring ahead like that?”

“Oh, nothing... everything; it’s so peaceful here, so restful.”

“Too restful at times. That silly Miss Watkins imagined I had come here to die. She was pre paring for

the funeral, I think.”

“It was likely her concern for you.”

“Concern, huh! She should never have called herself a companion; she was more like a

politician: one

would imagine it was she herself who had pushed the flapper vote through. She actually waved the

newspaper above her head that morning last summer, yelling, “ We can do it at twenty-

one! “

Lady Mary now leaned forward again and, grip ping Betty’s hand, she muttered, “Do you know what I

said to her?” And in a hoarse whisper, her expression one of glee, she went on, “You

know what I said

to her ? “ Be quiet! woman. You’re forty and by now you should know that you can do it at any age,

past fourteen, that is. “

As she lay back in her chair, her face turned to the sky, laughing unrestrainedly, Betty held her hand over

her own mouth while her body shook.

Straightening herself up now, the old lady continued her tirade against her former

companion:

“Her mother was a suffragette: rights for women, equality, and the like; fools the lot of them, fools. I

would never allow any man to be equal with me. Mentally any woman can outshine and

outwit any male

if she has sense enough to put her mind to it. Equality! Do you know something, girl? My father was a

bully and my mother was a terror. The servants hated him and loved her. If a servant

disobeyed him or

as much as spoke before he had given him leave, he would whip him, literally whip him off his feet. He

could flick a whip like any of those cowboy men. I thought of him the other day and what his attitude

would have been to Mrs. Bailey when she stood by the dining table, her bust sticking out so much with

pride that I couldn’t see her face, and told me that her son had got to Oxford, “ He’s going to Ruskin

College, ma’am,” she said, her tone suggesting that I had tried to stop him.

Mind, I had to stop myself from saying, “Well, it’s a working man’s college; you find no gentlemen

there.” But there’s a lot of my mother in me and so I said, “You must be very proud, Mrs.

Bailey,” and

she said, “Times are changing, ma’am.

Yes, by! they are that. An’ not afore time. Nobody’ll look down on him. “ It was then I thought of my

father and that whip and I became sad for a moment at the realisation that indeed times have changed;

no-one would have dared to speak to their mistress like that in my father’s time. “

“I’m sure she meant no offence.” Betty’s tone was cool.

“Why do you always defend these people? You know, in some ways you’re like my

mother, only she

was a beauty and she had charm ... Oh! Oh!

I’m not insulting you, you’ve got charm. Even though you can’t lay claim to good looks you’ve certainly

got charm. But my mother was a character. They were both characters. Do you know

what? They

used to fight like cat and dog. Talk about the poor on a Saturday night, my parents could have

out-yelled and out-bashed them hollow. “

She now lay back in her chair and once more she turned her face up to the sky as she

went on, “I

remember one time. It was after a house party. Irene, that was my sister, and Ned, my brother he was

killed in India we were looking through the top balcony. We always got up when they

were having a go,

and this time it was my father’s turn. He was going at my mother for flirting with some fellow. I can see

her now. She came sailing out of the bedroom, her head in the air, her face bright with impish laughter,

saying, “ You know what you can do. Henry, you can kiss my backside,” and my father

bellowed, “ I

wouldn’t kiss what I could kick,” and we watched him lift his boot and plant it on her hefty buttocks and

away she went sprawling flat on her face. Then you know what he did? He picked her up and carried

her back into the bedroom. They loved each other. Yes, they did, very much. It was a

happy house.

Wherever we lived, as long as they were together, it was a happy house. I hate mealy-

mouthed

individuals, don’t you?” She brought her head up and glanced towards Betty, but Betty merely smiled at

her and waited for the rest, and it soon came.

“Sarah, you know. Lady Menton, she’s mealymouthed. Oh, isn’t she just! At least since she married

James. Prayers for breakfast, dinner and tea. But she was a different girl when we were all in India;

Sarah was no prim memsahib then, oh no. She didn’t wear four flannel petticoats then, sometimes not

even one. We used to go to the hills, you know, in the hot weather.” She now twisted

around in the

chair and looked fully at Betty and her face crinkled into myriad wrinkles as she began to sing softly in a

croaking quiver the parody on If Those Lips Could Only Speak.

“If those hills could only speak And the husbands could only see, What a wonderful,

wonderful picture

Of im-mora-li-ty.”

They were laughing again unrestrainedly, and now Betty said, “You’re a wicked woman,

you know,

Lady Mary.”

“I know I am and I take that as a compliment, girl. By the way, I was thinking: how

would you like to

learn to drive a car?”

“I can drive a car. I drove a truck for some time during the war.”

“You did? Well! well! That’s marvelous news. I’m going to buy a car and you will help me choose it,

and you’ll drive me all about this beautiful countryside. I’ve always been given to

understand that there

were no places worth seeing in the North. Well, now I’ve seen them for myself, I can tell you in truth

you can keep the South;

this is more like me. “ And she waved her hand in front of her as if to encompass the whole countryside.

“It’s rugged beauty, with very few soft spots. In a car we can go to Hawick that way’ she thrust out one

arm ‘or to Kelso that way’ she thrust out the other arm ‘or back to Kelso and over the border again

across those wild moors and fells. They drove me that way and the grandeur was

breathtaking. I never

knew such places existed before, and I’ve travelled in my time.

What car do you fancy? “

“Now, Lady Mary’ Betty’s voice was low, her words spaced “ I told you, didn’t I? A

fortnight, three

weeks at the most. “

“Well, we could go lots of places in a fortnight to three weeks.”

“But what would you do with the car afterwards ?”

“I’d’ the old head wobbled from side to side “ I’d engage a chauffeur. “

“Where would you house him?”

There was silence for a moment, then the face wrinkled again into glee, and now she was holding Betty’s

knee as she said, “I’d make him sleep with Nancy on the peril of having his legs whipped from

underneath him.”

As she laughed quietly and helplessly Betty said, “Under those conditions he’d be bound to give in.”

“Isn’t it nearly tea-time?” And to the abrupt question Betty replied, “No; there’s more than half an hour

to go yet; there’s time for a nap.”

“Who wants a nap? I want to talk.” Nevertheless Lady Mary laid her head back against

the chair and

became still, and within a few minutes she was dozing.

Betty looked at her. The dress she was wearing had been fashionable forty years ago. It was one of a

score to be found lying in trunks in the spare room. She understood that the old lady’s habit was to take

seven out at a time, wear a different one every day of the week and continue in this way for a month; then

replace them with another seven. On her own admission she was a wealthy woman, so

why did she dress

like this? Likely because she wanted to look different and so attract notice to herself; dressed in today’s

fashion she would ap pear, until she opened her mouth, to be just another old lady.

Why did she like her? At times she had a bitter tongue, and her imperious manner could be very

off-putting unless you understood what was be hind it. She liked her, she supposed,

because she did

understand what was behind it:

loneliness, a wasted life, a keen mind that saw the futility of living but nevertheless experienced a fear of

dying, a need to be cared for and loved.

Well, she could care for her and she could love her. She would find her easy to love. So why not, why

not stay? What was more, Lady Mary wouldn’t go back on her word, she would do as she

said and

provide for her. Now that she was past thirty, the years would go by quickly, so very quickly; before

she knew it she’d be forty, then fifty; and then what?

On Christmas Eve she had thrown away a sure form of security, and now she was being

given a second

chance to alleviate one worry in her mind at least. Was she going to be a fool for the second time? And

how different it would be living here;

the very setting oozed tranquillity. And there’d be no irritations.

Oh, the old lady’s tongue wouldn’t be an irritation, more a form of amusement. But the main release

would come from not seeing Joe, nor hearing him, nor sitting opposite him at breakfast.

Sometimes she thought everyone in the house hold must know how she felt about him;

yet she knew that

this was wild imagination; no-one knew how she felt. She hadn’t herself realised the

extent of her feelings

until the moment she had placed Martin in his arms.

She asked herself what it was about him that had caught at her heart from their first meeting.

It wasn’t his looks, even though she loved to sit and stare at his face and watch the way his lips shot

widely into a smile or laughter.

Was it the look in his eyes? For they were kind eyes, except when he lost his temper and the light in

them deadened like cooling steel. It wasn’t that he stood out dramatically from other men in looks or

stature yet he did stand out. His personality affected people; to some he was a nice

fellow, to others he

was bad-tempered, a hard man. But all seemed to agree on one point; he was no fool. And yet he was

blind where Elaine was concerned. But was he? Since overhearing their quarrelling she had begun to

think that he knew more about her sister than she had imagined. Perhaps the truth was he wanted to

remain blind. Mike had once said something to this effect, something about his not

wanting to wake up.

And then there was Mike. If she left the house she would miss Mike, because there had daily been

growing in her a feeling for Mike that was almost akin to love, yet wasn’t love; at least, not love as she

knew she wanted love; still, it was something that she would miss if she were to lose contact with it.

She sighed and lay back and looked over the calm scene before her.

She’d let it all settle in her mind for the next two weeks before making a final decision about moving in

with Lady Mary.

As it turned out, she was forced to make her decision after just six days.

Betty and Lady Mary were sitting in the drawing—room awaiting the hired car that was

to take them

into Kelso. Lady Mary had definitely made up her mind she was going to buy a car, one that would fit

them, she had explained. For the past two days Betty had tried to persuade her from

taking this decision

to its practical conclusion, but she remained adamant: “All right,” Lady Mary had said,

‘if you are not

going to drive it, it doesn’t matter; I shall hire a chauffeur, a gentleman one. Look at the news papers!

Ex-officers are still throwing themselves about right, left and centre to become employed: Gentleman, late of the so-and-so regiment, will accept any position.

Didn’t I read that out to you last night? This country’s heading for total collapse, and it’s that Labour

Party’s fault and the strikes they cause. In my day everybody was fitly employed, each man to his

station; now Mrs. Bailey’s son goes to Oxford. Huh! “

When the sound of a car coming on to the drive at the side of the house came to them, they both rose to