Authors: Yelena Kopylova
income for the month
and Mary Ellen was sitting opposite to him at the other side of the desk.
She had her arms folded tightly across her breasts, and her lips, too, were tight. She determined to let
him go on and get out of his system a suspicion that had come into his mind when he had brought Roddy
home yesterday. He was on now about Kate’s reaction, but she knew that any minute
now he would
hark back to the main subject that was troubling him.
“It amazed me that she should like him. He’s a bighead. I would have thought with her
common sense
she would be able to see through him. My God! To think that we worked side by side in
the mill,
tramped the hills together;
and it was me who used to go gathering charcoal so he could do his damned drawings.
And another
thing I’ll tell you, he’s not as well off as he makes out to be. Anybody can go round
visiting fancy places
if they live in a city. If I was going over to France I could brag about all the fine buildings in Newcastle.
Anyway, people know that artists are ten a penny and that they don’t make all that money unless they’re
right at the top of the tree. “
She couldn’t keep her tongue still any longer, for she now snapped at him, “He appears to have got
there, doesn’t he?”
“Aye, appears, appears. You’re taken in by his fancy clothes and his pot belly. By God!
I’ve never
seen anybody so bloated. Look at his face. Where’s your bonny boy now? But even so,
you were
sorry for him, weren’t you? He got back at you, didn’t he? Pushed you to where you used to be,
goggle-eyed gazing at him, wishing now that he had taken you to London with him the
last time you saw
him....”
He was startled as she jumped up, her face aflame now, and crying at him, but in a low voice, “I’ve
heard enough. After all these years, I still haven’t been able to convince you. Deep in you, you’re still
holding it against me that I had her. Well, I’ll say what I said to you years ago, it was my fault that I had
her, not his. He wasn’t to blame. I made him. And don’t say a woman can’t make a man
do what she
wants. Some don’t need much coaxing, but let me tell you what I’ve never told you afore, he needed a
lot of coaxing. So there you have it, Hal Roystan. And you’ve spoilt something that was...
was—’ she
choked and now stammered through spurting tears, ‘bea ... beautiful.”
He was round the desk and holding her straining body to him, pleading with her now,
“Mary Ellen.
Mary Ellen. I’m sorry. I am. But I was scared, scared daft. I was, I was. I’d always
thought that there
could be twenty Roddys come back to see you and I wouldn’t turn a hair. But from the
minute I saw
him looking at you, I knew that he was regretting letting you go, and you recognizing
this. Why, lass, I
nearly went mad.
“Twas a wonder I didn’t hit him, especially at the last when I thought he was going to kiss you. I would,
I would, I would have hit him. Aw, Mary Ellen, don’t, don’t cry, please. It’s ‘cos I love you. I still feel
like a young lad inside about you. I’ve been so sure of me damn self all these years, and now I’m not
and never will be again.” As his arm slackened about her she looked up at him, and now, slowly taking
his face between her two hands, she muttered, “Oh, Hal, Hal, if you don’t know now,
there’s no way I
can make you believe it. And yes, I was sorry for him. I pitied him, and at the same time I was thanking
God things happened as they did, for I know now I’d never have been able to put up with him.
Underneath, he’s still Roddy Greenbank, out for number one. To use old Kate’s words,
I’d sooner have
a dinner of herbs with you than a fat ox with him.”
“Ah, lass.” He held her close, and after a moment he said, “Another thing that had me
sick, I thought
Kate would go off with him.”
“Never.”
“You didn’t think so?”
“No, it never crossed my mind. Anyway, if it had, I would have put it aside, knowing that Kate would
never do anything to hurt us, and that certainly would.”
“No.” He nodded his head.
“You’re right there.”
Kate knew that her attitude towards her father during his 452
long overdue visit was being discussed throughout the family, but John was the only one who had put a
pointed question to her.
“Did you like him, Kate?” he had said. And the telling pause that preceded her answer
was, in a way,
as explanatory to him as it was to her, “Yes and no.” To which he had said, “Well, you should know if
you do or you don’t.”
Yes, she supposed she should have been able to say precisely what her impression of the man was.
Yet, wasn’t it asking something of oneself to be able to define a character after such a short
acquaintance? One thing, though, she did know: if she hadn’t been so inwardly happy,
she might have
succumbed to the offer to visit him in France. And that, she knew, would have been
looked upon, at
least by her mother and father, as something of a betrayal. As it was now, her whole
reaction to the man
was tinged with pity, for his life, so successful on the surface, was barren underneath, and this she
considered to be a dear price to pay for his fame.
Altogether, his visit had disturbed her less than it had other members of the family
because all the while
she had been holding close to her heart the thought of Ben. And at this moment, all she wanted was to
get on a horse and race across those moors and feel his arms holding her.
Last night, it had not been her father’s visit that had troubled her dreams; but three times she had woken
up and questioned if it could be true that the man who had come out of nowhere and who, she imagined,
could have the choice of any girl he set his mind to, could he really love her? Was there not some catch
in it somewhere? At one period she had lain awake thinking. There must be. There must
be. This kind
of thing doesn’t happen. In the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm there was always an
ogre. Who could
represent the ogre in her life?
Her dad, Hal?
Sitting up in bed at this thought, she had whispered to herself, “No, no.” But her common sense had
protested, “Yes, yes.” Her dad was the ogre and he had to be
of coaxing. So there you have it, Hal Roystan. And you’ve spoilt something that was. was
—’ she
choked and now stammered through spurting tears, ‘bea . beautiful. “
He was round the desk and holding her straining body to him, pleading with her now,
“Mary Ellen.
Mary Ellen. I’m sorry. I am. But I was scared, scared daft. I was, I was. I’d always
thought that there
could be twenty Roddys come back to see you and I wouldn’t turn a hair. But from the
minute I saw
him looking at you, I knew that he was regretting letting you go, and you recognizing
this. Why, lass, I
nearly went mad.
“Twas a wonder I didn’t hit him, especially at the last when I thought he was going to kiss you. I would,
I would, I would have hit him. Aw, Mary Ellen, don’t, don’t cry, please. It’s ‘cos I love you. I still feel
like a young lad inside about you. I’ve been so sure of me damn self all these years, and now I’m not
and never will be again.” As his arm slackened about her she looked up at him, and now, slowly taking
his face between her two hands, she muttered, “Oh, Hal, Hal, if you don’t know now,
there’s no way I
can make you believe it. And yes, I was sorry for him. I pitied him, and at the same time I was thanking
God things happened as they did, for I know now I’d never have been able to put up with him.
Underneath, he’s still Roddy Greenbank, out for number one. To use old Kate’s words,
I’d sooner have
a dinner of herbs with you than a fat ox with him.”
“Ah, lass.” He held her close, and after a moment he said, “Another thing that had me
sick, I thought
Kate would go off with him.”
Never. “
“You didn’t think so?”
“No, it never crossed my mind. Anyway, if it had, I would have put it aside, knowing that Kate would
never do anything to hurt us, and that certainly would.”
“No.” He nodded his head.
“You’re right there.”
Kate knew that her attitude towards her father during his 452
long overdue visit was being discussed throughout the family, but John was the only one who had put a
pointed question to her.
“Did you like him, Kate?” he had said. And the telling pause that preceded her answer
was, in a way,
as explanatory to him as it was to her, “Yes and no.” To which he had said, “Well, you should know if
you do or you don’t.”
Yes, she supposed she should have been able to say precisely what her impression of the man was.
Yet, wasn’t it asking something of oneself to be able to define a character after such a short
acquaintance? One thing, though, she did know: if she hadn’t been so inwardly happy,
she might have
succumbed to the offer to visit him in France. And that, she knew, would have been
looked upon, at
least by her mother and father, as something of a betrayal. As it was now, her whole
reaction to the man
was tinged with pity, for his life, so successful on the surface, was barren underneath, and this she
considered to be a dear price to pay for his fame.
Altogether, his visit had disturbed her less than it had other members of the family
because all the while
she had been holding close to her heart the thought of Ben. And at this moment, all she wanted was to
get on a horse and race across those moors and feel his arms holding her.
Last night, it had not been her father’s visit that had troubled her dreams; but three times she had woken
up and questioned if it could be true that the man who had come out of nowhere and who, she imagined,
could have the choice of any girl he set his mind to, could he really love her? Was there not some catch
in it somewhere? At one period she had lain awake thinking. There must be. There must
be. This kind
of thing doesn’t happen. In the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm there was always an
ogre. Who could
represent the ogre in her life?
Her dad, Hal?
Sitting up in bed at this thought, she had whispered to herself, “No, no.” But her common sense had
protested, “Yes, yes.” Her dad was the ogre and he had to be
overcome. But how? If Ben talked to him, would he listen to reason?
She had lain back and dropped off to sleep, and this morning she had forgotten the
answer she had
given to herself. At the breakfast table the conversation was general, purposely so it appeared to Kate.
Tom was saying, “Terry’s taking the sheep into Allendale this morning.” He was looking at Gabriel, and
Gabriel answered, “Well good Lord, there’s only a handful, he can manage those.”
“Tisn’t the sheep I’m thinking about,” Tom said, ‘it’s the return journey, him coming
straight back or
winding his way into one of the inns. You know what happened a week gone. “
“Funny that. “ They were all looking at their father now, and he chewed on a piece of
bacon before
saying with a smile, “You would say that Terry was the quietest fellow in the valley, yet put a couple of
pints of small ale into him and what have you? A rip-roaring wrecker.”
There were smiles all round the table now, and Gabriel said almost on a splutter, “I’ll never forget that
day when they tried to put him into the stocks.”
“Aye.” Tom laughed now.
“And you nearly went with him. You were hanging onto his coat tails, and I had to pick you up and
whack you.”
“I hear they’re going to take the stocks down....” Before Maggie could go on any further, Tom
interrupted her: “Well, as long as they don’t do away with the ducking stool, I’ll be quite happy.” And he
grinned at Maggie as she tossed her head, saying, “Oh, you!”
“Why are you sending the sheep in today?” This was from Mary Ellen and she was
looking at Hal now,
and after another bite and a large swallow of bacon, he answered her: “Well, if you want the truth on the
subject:
as in the past it’ll upset your delicate stomachs’—he glanced now at his daughters
‘there’s a crowdy
main on the morrow, and you know what Terry is forcockfighting. His pay will drop like bolts of
lightning down into the cockpit. “
“I think it’s terrible. It should be stopped.” FIorrie was not given to airing opinions and she had all their
attention now as she went on, “A cockfight is bad enough, two birds, but all those birds thrown into the
hole and people joying in their dying. I think it’s awful. And you, our Tom, should be ashamed of
yourself for....”
“Now, now, hold your hand a minute.” Tom was wagging his finger at her.
“I’m not the only one in this household that likes a bit of sport.”
“No, but you should have more sense.”
“Why should I have more sense than the others?” They were all laughing now at Tom’s
stretched face.
“Neither of them’—he glanced at his mother and father—’had any wits to pass on, they
had hardly
enough to keep themselves going.”
When the laughing uproar had subsided, FIorrie, looking across at Kate and as if giving the final word
on the subject, said, “And Kate can’t abide cock fighting Can you, Kate?”