THE CINDER PATH (25 page)

settled. She looked just like a thousand and one other

women that could be encountered on the streets of

Gateshead or Newcastle.

"How are you, Charlie?"

"Oh ... oh not so bad, Polly. And you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine."

As she spoke he repeated to himself, fine, fine.

Funny, she could say she was fine and she was

Slater's wife. Yet there was no evidence in her

face that she was anything other than fine. Her skin was as clear as ever, her eyes were bright, she was still

bonny, yet she looked different, ordinary. It was

funny, even fantastic, but if he had met her

yesterday he would have told himself he was still a little in love with her. But everything had changed since

yesterday, and the main thing was, not that he had found his wife with another man, but that he had suddenly felt

a deep, exciting warmth seep through him when

Nellie had kissed him. But could a moment like that

wipe out years of love? And he had loved

Polly. Oh yes, he had loved her. But how had

he loved her? That was the question.

"Charlie."

"Yes, Polly?"

"Do ... do you think we could get off and have a cup of tea?"

He hesitated for a moment while he stared at

her; then said, "Of course. Why not?"

They rose together and left the bus at the next

stop and they were half-way up Northumberland

Street before she said, "Til . . .

I'll leave you to pick a place. Somewhere quiet,

Charlie, but not posh, please."

"Posh!" He laughed at her now. "They don't allow privates in posh places, Polly."

"Well, you know what I mean, it doesn't

matter where it is as long as it's quiet. You see

it's funny, but I've been sort of prayin"

I'd come across you, Charlie, "cos I wanted to have a talk with you."

"Oh! anything wrong?" Even although his mind had accepted the burial of his boyhood love, he was

hoping to hear that her feelings hadn't altered, that she was unhappy. And who wouldn't be unhappy with a man

like Slater? Now if it had been anybody else

he

TCP 10

would have accepted the fact that she had transferred her affections.

"Will this cafe do?" She was pointing to a dimly lit window. "I've been in there before, it's usually quiet."

"Fine. Fine."

A few minutes later they were seated at a

corner table and, looking across at her, he said, "Just tea? Anything to eat?"

"No; no thank you, Charlie. It's not long

since I had a meal. I've just come from me mother's."

. "How is she?"

"Oh, she's fine, fine."

He smiled at her before turning and threading his way

to the counter.

"Yes, lad?"

"Two teas, please."

"I was here afore 'im."

The elderly waitress behind the counter looked at

the man in civilian clothes and said, "And likely

you'll be here after 'im an" all, "cos there's no chance of you being shot, not in those clothes, is there?"

As the young fellow turned his head away muttering

"God!" Charlie wanted to put his hand out and reassure him, saying, "It's all right, it's all

right, I know just how you feel,

backslash

I've been through it," but he took the two

teas from the smiling waitress and returned to the

table.

As he handed Polly a cup she looked around her

and said, "It's packed; I've never seen it as

full as this. But then I've never been here at night

afore."

There followed some moments of uneasy silence

while they sat drinking their tea. Then in the

impulsive way that he remembered she thrust her

cup on to the saucer, leant towards him and in a low

tone began to talk rapidly. "I just wanted to say

I'm sorry, Charlie, 'cos I know what you've

been goin" through these past weeks. He must have led you hell. He ... he says as much. He's bent on

gettin' his own back. In a way I understand him,

Charlie. You can't blame him "cos, you know, your

father put him through it then-was Her eyes fell away from his now. "And he knows that I was fond of you an" he thought you were likewise. It's all mixed up in his

mind. And then there was the business of our Arthur. But as I said to him, why take it all out on you? It

worries me, it's the only thing his

"All right, all right, Polly." He checked

her gabbling and smiled at her as he said,

"It's all right, don't worry. Anyway, I

think I'm on embarkation leave so we'll soon be

parting, at least I hope so."

"Yes, I know, I know; but he might go along

of you."

"I sincerely hope not."

"So do I. Oh so do I, Charlie, for

your sake."

"What about you? How . . . how does he treat

you?"

"Oh me! Treat me?" Her eyes widened.

"Oh, I've got nothin' to complain of, Charlie,

not there. He's as good as gold to me. I couldn't have

a better husband, an' I'd be ... well-was She

turned her face from him as she finished, "I'd be as happy as Larry if it wasn't that I had you on

me mind and how he's treatin' you."

It was unbelievable that Slater could treat anyone

well, the mean little swine that he was, yet here was

Polly, his Polly as he used to think of her, almost

glowing with affection for him. The longer he lived the more puzzling he was finding people.

"I've got two bairns now, you know."

"Yes, yes, so I understand, Polly."

"And I'll have a third come spring."

She was bragging about his bairns. Could

he himself have given her any bairns? He hadn't

given Victoria any. But then Victoria was like

a species from another planet, a wild

Amazon; and she had stated openly that she hadn't

wanted children.

"Oh, I'm so glad I met you,

Charlie; me mind '11 be at peace now."

He stared at her. He had always thought she was a

bright girl, an intelligent girl. And she was,

yes, she was, but as in everything else there were

levels. Because she had seen him and talked to him she

imagined that he could now accept her husband's

treatment as the natural, and even right, outcome of the rejection, frustration and humiliation he had suffered

when young. She could never understand that what Slater was doing was taking it out of him not only because he had been flayed on the cinder path, but also because he had been born in the workhouse, It all stemmed from there. He

recalled his expressed need for a father and his inability to understand anyone covering up the murder of his own father.

The past was all too complicated, but what was

evident here in the present was the fact that Slater

could be making a woman happy

while at the same time finding new ways each day

to torture someone else.

He was surprised when again in her impetuous way

she rose to her feet and, looking down at him, said,

"Don't bother to come with me, Charlie, I'd rather you didn't." She didn't add, "Just in case we

are seen," but went on, "There's only one thing.

If. . . if you should both go out there together be

careful, Charlie, I mean"-she shook her head"...g carefully with him. Try to understand."

He was on his feet now shaking her hand. "Don't

worry, Polly, everything will work out. I'm glad

you're happy."

"Thanks, Charlie. B. . . but I must say

it, I'm sorry you're not, I am from the bottom of

me heart."

He sat down again and watched her threading her way

towards the door. Her back view was broad and

dumpy, so ordinary. But what had she said? "Be

careful, Charlie." That had been a warning. Oh

yes, that had been a warning; although she had altered it to "Be careful with him," she really had meant,

"Be careful of him, Charlie."

What a day! Embarkation leave; his sister

ravenous for sole control of the farm, for let him

face it that's what Betty wanted, sole

control; his wife, a brazen whore; his sisterin-law

a drunk; and lastly his sweetheart, telling him in

so many words he'd better look out if he wanted

to survive.

Well, what better way to end a day like this than

to get drunk . . . But if he did they wouldn't

let him into the Y.m.c.a., nor any

other place except a common lodging-house.

He had a longing to be with Johnny, to talk

to him, to be tickled by his humour and to be soothed

by his rough understanding, but most of all to be warmed by his affection.

Women caused nothing but trouble. Wherever there were

women there was trouble. The only thing that was worth while in life was the companionship, the comradeship of

another man; in that you could rest and be refreshed . .

.

He left the cafe, went to the Y.m.c.a.,

spent a restless night, and had returned to the camp

before twelve the next day.

T

"caret HE rumours were still running rife; they were going to France, they were going to Gallipoli; they were going to Aldershot, but one thing was sure, their company was going some place because the officers were on their toes and the N.c.odds were running round like scalded cats,

so said Johnny. He also said he'd go round the bend

if he wasn't soon put out of his misery.

It was twenty-three hours now since he had

returned to camp and they knew nothing more than they had done before they had been given leave. For the past hour they had been on the square listening

to Slater's voice mingling with those of other sergeants bellowing, "Left! right! left! right! Lift "em up! At the double! Move! move!"

Although the day was grey and raw each man was sweating when at last they were told to stand easy. Charlie was

at the end of the line, his eyes directed straight

ahead, his stomach muscles tight as he waited for

Slater to walk past him, then round behind him.

Sometimes he did it without a word, at others it was with a skin-searing remark. He was coming from the other end of the line but when he was halfway he was stopped by a

corporal who had come to his side and was apparently

giving him some message. Whatever the message

was, Charlie noted that Slater pondered on it before

continuing on. And now the dreaded moment had arrived

again, he was about to pass. But no, this apparently was going to be one of the mornings he intended to indulge

himself in a frontal attack.

"MacFell!"

"Sergeant."

"What have you been up to now?"

Charlie made no answer.

"I asked you a question."

"I don't know to what you are referring,

Sergeant."

There was a long pause before Slater said, "You are to report to Lieutenant Swaine. Two paces

forward, march!"

Charlie marched forward.

"Accompany the corporal. Right turn; quick

march!"

He quick marched down the line to the waiting

corporal, who turned and fell into

step with him. Across the square they went through a

passage between two buildings and into another square,

this one sporting a lawn which they circled before mounting a set of wide stone steps and going into the building that had once been a college.

The hall was large and men were coming out of and going into different doors; some had either one, two, or

three stripes on their arms, others one, two, or

three pips.

They crossed the hall now still in step and came to a

stop opposite a door marked Four. For the first time

the corporal spoke. "Wait here," he said, the words coming out of the corner of his mouth. Then he bent stiffly forward, knocked on the door, opened it, and

after entering the room he closed the door again.

Two minutes passed, the door was pulled open.

The corporal gave a slight jerk of his

head. Charlie stepped smartly forward and into the

room.

The officer sitting at the desk looked at the

corporal and said, "That will be all," to which the corporal answered, "Yes, sir," came

smartly to attention, saluted, turned about and went

out.

Also standing stiffly to attention, Charlie

looked across the desk and over the head of

Lieutenant Swaine.

Lieutenant Swaine was dubbed as a decent

bloke amongst the men. He was a Southerner, at

least from well south of this area, but cornpared with some of the others he wasn't bad at

all.

"MacFell?" He looked up at Charlie.

"Yes, sir."

"Stand easy."

"Well now." The officer eased himself back in his chair, twisted his body slightly, put his elbow

on one arm of the chair and capped the other arm with the flat of his hand as he repeated, "Well now." Then went on, "Let me first ask you a question. Have you ever thought about a commission?"

There was a pause before Charlie said,

"Sir!"

"Don't look so surprised; I said have you ever

thought about putting in for a commission?"

"No, sir."

"Why?"

Charlie considered a moment. "I suppose it's

because I couldn't see myself in command of men, sir."

"But"-Now Lieutenant Swaine leant forward

and gently spread out some papers on his desk and

scanned them as he murmured, "You were a farmer?"

He raised his eyes up to Charlie.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you would have had men under you?"

"Four at most, sir."

"Nevertheless"-the officer lay back in the chair again-"you have handled men; you had to give them orders."