Authors: Yelena Kopylova
Yet what was
to be done? The only solution that appeared to her mind was a slow breaking down of her father’s
prejudices, and it wasn’t just the prejudices, it was the deep hate.
Her mother had once told her that her father had periods when he would wake up in the
night groaning
and trying to
speak. He would be reliving in nightmares the period when he was strung to the beam
and knew he
would suffer in agony till he died.
“I... I will come across with you and....”
She almost toppled him onto his back, so quickly did she rise to her feet. But then, her hand going out to
him, she pulled him upwards, and she said, “Leave it for a while, please. Let me see what can be done.
I shall try to pave the way somehow. But, Ben’—her voice dropped to a murmur
—’however I go
about it I. 1 know there will be trouble. “
“I can face trouble, any kind of trouble, as long as I know in the end we shall be together, and for good,
whether it is here or across the water.”
Quietly now he gripped her hand and they walked from the kitchen and into the hall, and there, taking a
key from his pocket, he opened the oak door, and when they had passed through he
locked it again. He
untethered the horses, and before helping her to mount he went to take her in his arms.
When she
glanced around somewhat apprehensively he laughed gently and said, “No one ever
comes here, at least
I haven’t seen anyone. But at the moment I wish there was a crowd standing at the gate, and then they
could spread the news.”
When she shuddered the jollity went from his voice and he said “Everything will turn out all right. You’ll
see.”
The answer that was on the tip of her tongue was, “You don’t know. You have no idea of the strength
of feeling that you’ll have to combat before everything is all right,” assuming that it ever could be
combated, in which case it would mean they would never come together, no, no, this
wondrous thing that
had come into the wilderness that was her inner life would be lost. She must fight for it as he was
prepared to.
After they had kissed, not once, not twice, but three times, she had to draw herself from him. And now
he helped her up into the saddle, and when she leant forward and, taking his hand, laid it tenderly against
her cheek, the softness in his dark eyes deepened and he murmured, “My Kate. My
Kate.”
They rode out of the gate side by side, and had little to say except in their exchanged glances until they
came to where the paths divided and she would not let him come any further. His last
words to her
were, “Will you come tomorrow?” And she answered after a moment’s thought, “I
couldn’t tomorrow.”
And when she added, “It’s my turn for the ironing,” he put his head back and laughed as he said, “Oh,
Kate, Kate, it’s your turn for the ironing. Oh, that is lovely, lovely... When then? The following day?”
“Yes.”
“So be it. I’ll be waiting here at the same time. Bring me news that you have broken the ice.”
She made no reply to this, but, turning her horse sharply, she rode off, without looking back.
In the yard John helped her down from her horse, saying, “Had a nice ride?” There was a big question
mark in his words, and she answered, “Yes, John. I’ve had a very nice ride.”
“I’m glad, Kate.” He smiled at her.
“Charles thinks he’s a fine fellow.”
“He is, John.”
“Why don’t you fetch him home?” He nodded towards the house.
“I ... I will, one of these days.”
“Do. Do, Kate. It would probably ease things. You see, something else seems to have got into Dad
now; he’s come back from Newcastle in a tear.”
She left him with a puzzled look on his face and went into the kitchen. There, Maggie
and Florrie were
talking to Gabriel, and they turned and looked at her in such a way that she was forced to ask, “Is
anything the matter?”
“We don’t know,” Gabriel answered; ‘but, as you know, Father went early into
Newcastle this morning
to see the solicitor about buying Morgan’s piece of land. He said if things held him up he would stay
overnight. Well, he couldn’t have been there more than a couple of hours, and he’s come back, and in a
bit of a rage if his face is anything to go by. “
Kate felt a fluttering in her throat. Could he have heard about Ben’s true identity? But then no one
except herself knew. Then what could have caused him to come racing back like this? He enjoyed his
visits to Newcastle, and if he couldn’t pick up a coach that would stop at Haydon Bridge or Haltwhistle,
from where he could hire a horse, he often stayed in Newcastle overnight. Her voice was small as she
asked, “Where is he?”
“Closeted with Mother in the office. They’ve been there this past half hour or more.
Something’s up.”
Maggie was nodding her head. She looked at Kate as much as to say:
Your business has hardly cooled down and now there’s something else afoot.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Kate?” Florrie went towards the big brown teapot resting on the hob,
and Kate answered, “Yes. I’ll come back for it; I want to get my things off.”
She went swiftly up the kitchen and was crossing the hall to the stairs when, along the corridor that went
off to the right, the door opened and her mother appeared. She stood staring at her for a moment, then
said quietly, “Will you come in here a minute, Kate?”
Dear God! They had found out. Some way or other they had found out.
And what now? Well, she would make a stand. It was either them or Ben, and it would
always be
Ben. Always. She couldn’t lose this precious thing that had seemingly been sent straight from heaven
into her life.
When she entered the room her father was standing and she was surprised to see that his face was not
grim and that he wasn’t in a raging temper. She was puzzled, even by the sound of his
voice as he said,
“Hello, lass.”
“Hello, Dad.”
“Come and sit down.”
She sat down, and when her mother sat near her and took hold of her hand, she looked at her and said,
“What is it? Something happened?”
“You could say that.” Mary Ellen nodded.
“Aye, you could say that.
I’ll . I’ll let your dad explain. “
Kate now watched Hal rub one lip over the other two or three times as though preparing to speak. But
even before doing so he placed his hands on his knees and bent slightly forward and
concentrated his
gaze on the carpet; then abruptly he said, “I was a bit late in getting into the city, there was a hold-up with
the coach at one of the tollgates. A carrier waggon had capsized right across the road.
Truth was, one
of the horses had given up. Anyway, it delayed us for a while. But you know’—he gave a forced smile
now “ I only need a bit of an excuse to lengthen me stay in Newcastle, ‘cos I like a look round.
Anyway, I went as usual to the Queen’s Head in Pilgrim Street, left me bag, and
sauntered about. My
meeting with the solicitor fellow was not till half past one. So I dandered a bit and ended up in the Eldon
Coffee Rooms in Blackett Street. “ Again he gave a thin smile as he said, “ You can’t
only get coffee
there now, you know, but a drop of the hard an’ all. And being Tuesday, I managed to get the Tyne
Mercury an’ the Northumberland and Durham Gazette, hot, as you could say, from the
press, otherwise
I’ve got to wait days for them, that’s if there’s any left. “ His tone now changed and, looking at Mary
Ellen who had closed her eyes for a moment, he said, “ All right, all right, I’m getting to it. Going the long
way around I suppose, but I’ll come to it soon enough. You know I will-’ Kate looked
from one to the
other. What was this? She was sure now it had nothing to do with her and Ben, for this tentative lead up
to what he had to tell her would certainly not have been his reaction in that case.
“Anyway, there I was sitting looking at it and I saw an advert. It was for a coming
exhibition opening on
Friday to be exact. A man—’ Kate watched him gulp at this point, and he repeated, “ A
man from these
parts was putting on a show of his pictures. “ He stopped and straightened himself and looked straight at
her, and now she knew what was to come.
His voice low, he said, “Twas a big advert, praising this fellow’s work and saying that he had lived in
France for more than half his life and he’d just had a successful exhibition in London, and he was now in
the city, prepared to open his latest on Friday. Well’—he drew in a long breath “ I didn’t stay long in the
coffee-house, but I walked along to the Assembly Rooms. That’s where the exhibition
was to take
place. There was quite a bit of activity outside and as I stood a man and woman came out of the door. I
couldn’t recognize the woman and I barely recognized the man. But I couldn’t have
changed as much as
him, for he recognized me. Twas your father, Kate, and his wife. “
They were both looking at her. Her face, she knew, had gone scarlet again. It was no use telling herself
that the news didn’t affect her.
Since she had known she had another father she had often wondered what he was like.
But the love
showered on her by Hal had diluted the desire to meet him. She had only once spoken of him to her
mother and that was during her teens, when she said, “I’m no good at drawing and that’s funny, because
you said my father was an artist.” And she had added, “Was he a good artist?” And her
mother had
replied, “Yes, they said so.” And then after a long moment she had put the question, “Has he ever seen
me?” And Mary Ellen said, “When you were a little baby.”
And the subject had seemed closed when she had said, “Then he wouldn’t know me if he
was to come
upon me now, would he?”
At this moment Kate was recalling those words: He wouldn’t know me if he was to come
upon me now,
would he? This man, who was an artist and who would, undoubtedly, like bpauty, had
been the begetter
of something that was ‘far from beautiful. Yet Ben had said. Ben.
For these two things to have happened in the one day. It was too much.
As she laid her head back against the chair Mary Ellen said anxiously, “Tis all right, dear,
‘tis all right.
You needn’t see him if you don’t want to.” She didn’t turn to her mother but looked at Hal, saying now,
“Did he ask to see me?”
“Yes ... aye, he did. And being me, I told him he had left it a bit late. And being him, he made excuses,
saying he had only been in England twice in the past twenty years.”
“What is he like?” Her voice was low.
Hal moved uneasily in his chair. What could he say to her about this man, his one-time friend who had
brought her into being, and whom he himself had followed for years, not only because he wanted his
companionship but also he was something good to look upon? The successful artist he
had seen outside
the Assembly Rooms certainly wasn’t that man. The slightly outlandishly dressed painter was big and
blowzy like a woman gone to seed, with a belly on him like a poisoned pup, so much so
that as he
looked at him he had for the first time in his life felt physically superior to him: there was no surplus fat on
him; his stomach was as flat as it had been in his youth;
there were streaks of grey in his hair, and his face was ruddied by the weather; he had no bags under his
eyes, just two deep lines running from the corners of his nose down almost to his chin.
He had often
wondered what his reaction would be if confronted with Mary Ellen’s first love. And
what her reaction
would be too. Now he had no fear in that quarter. His fear was for this girl . this young woman sitting
opposite, this being that he loved almost as much as he did her mother. There was no
length he wouldn’t
go to to save her being hurt, because he was well aware that if she was to be surprised at the sight of her
father, he would certainly be surprised when he saw his daughter.
Kate now said quietly, “Do you want me to go to the exhibition?” She looked from one to the other.
And it was Hal who answered again, saying, “He asked me to bring
you. But I said no, if he wanted to see you, he had to come here. I suppose it was a kind of conceit on
my part, for I want to show him how you’ve been brought up, not in a cottage where he
last saw you, but
in a home fit for a young lady. An’ that’s what you are, Kate, a young lady. And never forget it. “
“Oh, Dad.” Impulsively she got up now and, going to him, she put her arms around his
neck and kissed
him. And he blinked his eyes a number of times and rubbed his hand roughly across his
lips before he
said, “That’s the worst thing about it: I’m not, am I, your dad.”
“You will always be my dad and I want no other. I... I don’t want to see him.”
“You’ll have to now, lass; I’ve invited him, and he’s comin’ the morrow. I suppose He
nodded towards
Mary Ellen now, saying, “ I should have asked that one there before I scattered me
invitations, but I also
wanted him to see her as mistress of a fine house and a thriving farm, and a mother of a grand family. I
wanted him to see what he had missed. “ He turned now to Mary Ellen, putting out his
hand and