Authors: Yelena Kopylova
pinch of salt, and a scoopful of sugar, and she returned it to the hob before taking her seat again. And
there she said, “Can you not just write to him?”
“No, I... I do not think it good, satisfactory. There are documents to be signatured.”
She now brought herself quickly to the edge of the chair and the folds of her black velvet skirt touched
one of John’s leggings. And her hand went out to him and covered his wrist where his
hand was lying on
his knee and, her voice eager, she looked into his face as she said, “I must tell you this, all, and you, ma
chere.” She extended her other hand out to Maggie, and Maggie moved towards the end
of the settle
but didn’t reach out towards the extended hand, keeping her two hands joined in her lap.
Yvonne quickly withdrew her hand from John’s wrist and looked down towards her
swinging feet and
she said, “You must help me with my English words as it is difficult for me to clear
myself.”
“Make yourself plain,” Maggie interrupted gently. And at this John made an impatient
movement,
saying, “Leave her be. Go on. “ He looked at Yvonne, and now she began:
“There is a house, my father’s house. More so, it was his wife’s house. She ... she it was who owned
all. Her husband ... the first, was of money, and when she married my father she does all for him. She
wants to make him famous, noted in the artist’s world. Well She now bowed her head,
then went on,
slowly now, “ There are many artists in Paris, very good, very good. My father, he was good with
portraiture.
His wife, she pressed him hard. She paid for his exhibitions and the’—she now waved
her
hands—’pamphlets, programmers to spread his work.
Artists are mostly poverty, I mean poor. They find difficulty in selling. My father too, but it did not
matter so much because of the money. His wife had friends in London, and also in Rome.
I think my
father, he protest, but she was of strong mind, and in some ways I fear She now looked down and
moved her head from side to side before she added, “He was not of strong character.
Lovable, yes.”
She looked from one to the other now, waiting for their confirmation of the right term, but neither of them
spoke, and so she went on: “She bought this house on the outskirts of Paris. It was a very nice house.
She liked entertain. My mother told me of her. She not tolerate women, mostly men
friends. She was
very jealous for my father ... of my father. She arranged all his life.”
For the first time Maggie interrupted, saying now, “Did she know about your mother?”
“No, I do not think so or, as my father ... hint? yes, hint, she would have changed her will. Well, she
die and all her money and house, it is my father’s, and’—she now lifted her shoulders and spread her
hands wide ‘it is mine. Unfortunate it is mine, and I must go back and see what they will do with it.”
For the first time John spoke. Looking into her face, he said, “You will live there?”
“No, Jean, I do not wish I live there.”
“But your home, your house?”
“It could be sold. It is a very nice house, not too big, eight sal... rooms. And up above’—
she waved her
hand above her head now ‘all the top is studio for my father. That is another thing. I ... I must see to his
pictures. There is, what you call, an agent, that sell them when he could.”
“When will you go?”
“I... I write back tomorrow and make arrangements. You see, I... it is not wise I travel alone. My
father, he ... he never left me. He never allow me travel alone.”
“What will you do then?”
“There are two ladies in next house. One, Mademoiselle Marie, she teaches in the lycee.
Mademoiselle
Estelle, she remains at the house, cooking, and cleaning. They have little money. Father used to engage
her to accompany me.”
“You mean you could never go out alone?”
“No.” Yvonne now smiled a knowing smile at Maggie as she shook her head.
“It was not advisable. You under stand?”
Maggie understood, then said, “Tis coming to some thing when a child can’t take a walk on her own.
“Tis a strange country.”
“Not at all,” John put in now; ‘there are times here in Newcastle when it wouldn’t be safe for a woman
of class to walk the streets by herself. “
Looking at Maggie now, Yvonne said slowly, “I am not a child, Maggie, nor have been
for some long
time.”
“What do you mean? I know you’re sixteen, but you still look like a girl of fourteen.”
“No, no, Maggie.” The voice was strong now, the tone contradictory.
“I
must tell you. There has been a deception. It was my father’s wish . idea, my birthday is in January. I
shall not be seventeen, I shall be nineteen years old. He thought, my father, that it was more possible for
your mama to give protection in her home if I was a young girl, and it is unfortunate that I look so. So he
said we will say sixteen. I was upset, but he advise it. He had a longing that I live in England. He had
friends in London, but they were friends of his wife. We met but I was not sympathi—
que with them.
They do not accept me, so She looked at John. His face was straight, his eyes narrowed, and her voice
low now, she said, “You angry? It is a bad thing I do?” He shook his head but didn’t
speak.
And now she added, “Will you tell your mama for me? I stand a little in fear ... awe of her.”
“No, no.” It was Maggie speaking again.
“Better not. What do you say, John? Better not, at least for a time?”
Again he nodded but without looking at Maggie; he continued to stare into the eyes that, in the lamplight,
seemed to encompass the whole face, and the sadness in them caught at his throat.
Maggie rising brought his gaze from the girl; she had gone to take the pan from the hob, and at the table
she divided the contents into three bowls. When she handed John a bowl on a wooden
platter, together
with a spoon, he took it without a word. But he didn’t begin to eat, not until Yvonne
again said, “You
are angry, shocked?”
“No, no,” he answered.
“No, not at all, only surprised.”
“Yes’—she nodded her head ‘surprised. I am unfortunate that I look so.”
“No, no.” He was quick to contradict her.
“No, you look all right.” He gave her a weak smile. And when Maggie handed her the
other bowl she
gazed up at her, saying, “I would love to look like you, Maggie, beautiful and fresh.”
“Beautiful? Don’t be silly!” Maggie tossed her head.
“Get on with that. See if you like it.”
She herself now sat down on the settle and began to eat the boily, and there was silence for a moment or
two, until Yvonne said, “Very nice.
Very nice. “ Then Maggie said abruptly,” Tis a wonder you’re not married by now then,
being as old as
you are. “
Gulping on a mouthful of the hot bread and milk, Yvonne made a small sound in her
throat that
resembled a laugh, then said, “Three times I was proposed Three times, and serious, you know. Two
were father’s friends. He was vexed. One young man, an artist too, but he could not feed himself. He
only ate when at our table, so poor.” She smiled widely, but when John got up abruptly, she rose from
the chair, saying, “You are annoyed all over? I am sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said; “I understand.” And he emphasized his words by lifting his hand as if to touch
her. Instead, he patted the air, then said, “Well, I’m off to bed. Good-night. And you, Maggie,
goodnight.”
“Good-night, John.”
After he had gone Yvonne stood looking towards the far door through which he had
disappeared. The
radius of the light from the lamp left half the kitchen in shadow, and she now walked into it, but there
stopped and bowed her head and placed a hand over her face. And Maggie called to her,”
‘tis all right.
Don’t take on. I would get to bed.
Things’ll look different in the morning. “
Standing in the shadow, Yvonne now said, “I would not hurt Jean. I have an affection for him.” Then
softly she added, “Good-night, Maggie,” before walking slowly from the kitchen.
Maggie had not answered Yvonne’s good-night, but she stood looking into the shadow of
the room.
She had an affection for John, she said, and he had for her, like herself she surmised, as the daughter he
had never had. That was when they had imagined she was sixteen. But now they both
realized they
were no longer playing mother or father to a young girl who looked even younger than
her sixteen years,
for she had turned into a young woman . who had been offered marriage three times.
She sighed deeply and, going to the dresser drawer, took out a rough linen cloth which she spread over
two thirds of the wooden table, and on this she laid out the crockery for the breakfast.
Then going over
to the stone sink that was set below the window, she washed up the three bowls and
spoons. And it was
as she leant sideways to grip the handle of the pump in order to swill the sink that her fingers became tight
on it, for there, out of the corner of her eyes, she imagined she saw a figure standing, that of a man. It
wasn’t until he moved into the dim radius of the light in the yard that she breathed freely, saying to herself,
“Willy! What’s he doing there?”
By the time she reached the door, he was standing outside it, and she said to him,
“Something wrong?”
634 “No, nothing’s wrong. I... I hope I didn’t give you a gliff.”
“You did a bit. Being your half-day, I didn’t expect you round in the yard.”
“Oh, that makes no difference.”
When she gave an audible shudder with the cold, he said, “I’m sorry.
Go on in. “
“No, no, I’m all right. Have you had a drink, anything hot?” She pulled the door wider.
“Come in a minute.”
He hesitated, then stepped into the light of the lamp, and she looked at him for a moment without
speaking. He always dressed smartly, not like a farmhand at all. Of course it was the old gentleman’s
clothes, and they certainly suited him. He had on an overcoat tonight that was made of Melton cloth. It
was better than even the one her father had.
She heard herself speaking her thoughts:
“You look very smart,” she said.
“Oh aye, yes, they skit ted me down at the Boar’s Head. Lord Cowhand, they called me.”
When he smiled she asked tartly, “You weren’t vexed?”
“No. Why should I be? Aren’t I asking for it, going out dressed like this? I understand them.”
She moved her head as if in perplexity, then said, “You’re sure you won’t have
something hot? Have
you had a meal today?”
“Yes. I had a good one in Hexham. I had my meal in a hotel, and the waiter said, “ What can I get you,
sir? “ Strange, isn’t it? Then I walked round the Abbey. I like walking round the Abbey.
It arouses
memories in me. Strange memories. Memories of men without women down the ages.
How did they
manage without women? Some of them didn’t I know. It was too hard for them. For
others it would be
easy. I had a few words with the Rector. We got on to that subject. He’s a very wise man.
He said he
hadn’t seen me there before. What was my work? And he didn’t bat an eyelid when I said cowhand.
Of course, he was the kind of man who wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if I’d said I was the Archangel
Gabriel.” He put his head back and laughed, then brought his hand to his mouth to still the sound, saying,
“I’m sorry.” And after a moment’s silence, during which they stared at each other, he said softly, “I feel
very happy tonight, Maggie, and it isn’t because I’ve gone over my allotted three mugs of ale. No, I
keep to that. I’m happy because I came to a decision today, and it was just that, what I’ve said, your
name, Maggie. Have you noticed that I’ve never called you Miss Maggie since shortly
after I came here,
because I never thought of you as Miss Maggie. But please’—he put his hand out towards her but didn’t
touch her ‘don’t be upset. I’m not going to say, don’t be offended, because I don’t think you would be.
I know what I know and you know what you know. AH I want to say now, Maggie, is
that I know
nothing can come of this. Oh, aye, my head’s on me shoulders in that way, and ‘tis a
great pity, but I
wanted you to know that there is someone who thinks of you and not just as a hand on the farm.”
There had come into his voice now a bitter note and his face was straight as he said,” Tis a shame. I’ve
always felt how some people are taken for granted, and used, because they are of the
family. I think
about you a lot. You work from morning till night, and what is ahead of you? More work from mornin’
till night.”
He remained silent for a moment, then drew in a long breath that swelled his overcoat as he said, “I’ll be
away. Tomorrow things will be back to where they were. Yet not quite. We will meet and talk about
passing items, but underneath you will know, and I will know what I’ve always known,
that you are a
beautiful woman, Maggie, and it is a shame unto God that you are not in a house of your own with a
family of your own. Would, to the powers of law and class, that things could be different.
Good night,
Maggie.”
She still did not open her mouth, but watched him turn and go out and draw the door