Authors: Yelena Kopylova
Aw ! He could worry no more - sufficient unto the day . . . and the night. And this night Florrie
had her man with her again, her fancy man. His lip curled even as thé thought came to him :
God ! if only he was in his place, fancy or not, for there was in him a need that was burning him
up. It had no connection with love, it was just a need, and at this moment if he could have Tom it
out of himself, thereby depriving himself of the resulting experience of any similar need still to
come, he would have done so.
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There had been flumes of snow all day, so light at times it was like flour falling on the face. The
cold was intense and the blanket of the sky lying low over the town caused passers-by to repeat
to anyone and everyone, ”Dark days afore Christmas without a doubt, this.”
Dick came running into the garage, crying, ”Do you think it’s going to lie, Dad? Will we be able
to skate down the hill? Bob Tanner said they did last year. It was great, he said. What’re you
doing, Dad?”
”What do you think I’m doing? Use your eyes!”
”Well, I can’t see you, Dad” - Dick laughed now - ”you’re half under the car.”
”Well, what would I be under here for?”
”Mending something likely.”
Abel screwed himself along the floor from under the car and into a sitting position and, wiping
the grease from his hands with some tow, he laughed at the boy as he said, ”What you excited
about?”
”Don’t know, Dad. Just Christmas comin’ an’ the snow. Where’s Benny?”
”Where he always is, in the bicycle shed.”
”I’ll go and pelt him with a snowball.”
”You’ll be lucky; you won’t get a spoonful off the yard, it isn’t lying.”
”It is on top of the wall.”
As the boy turned and scampered from the garage Abel checked him. ”Just a minute, Dick,” he
called, and when the boy paused he said warningly, ”Go careful, don’t tease him.”
”I
never tease him, Dad.”
”Well, if he’s in one of his moods keep clear of him.”
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”All right, Dad.”
Dick now ran towards the wall bordering part of the frontage facing the road and, reaching up,
drew his hand along the flat uneven top. But when he had reached the end of it his hand had
gathered only enough snow that would fill a tablespoon. Standing now in the shelter of the wall
he gently pressed the light particles together, but try as he might they wouldn’t form into a ball;
and so, keeping his hands cupped, he ran down the yard again, past the garage, past the machine
shop where Arthur Baines was working at a lathe, and into the bicycle shed.
The shed was long, all of thirty feet, and about fifteen feet wide. One side was taken up with
bicycle stands, and with the exception of two, every stand held a bicycle because this wasn’t the
kind of weather that favoured the bicycle trade. Taking up one half of the other side of the shed
was a long narrow bench on which was spread an assortment of tools, and above it, like a row of
portraits, hung bicycle wheels. Beyond the bench the floor was clear, except for an old-fashioned
round coke stove which besides giving off a pungent smell glowed more brightly than did the
naked gas mantle in the bracket attached to the wall above where Benny Laton was sitting.
Benny Laton had all the appearance of a man. He was twentythree years old ; he was five foot
ten in height with broad shoulders and a large head ; but his arms and legs were thin. Sitting as
he was now, he looked a normal man; it was when he walked or talked that the normality ended,
for his walk was gangling and his talk was childish.
Dick came to a halt at his side, saying, ”Hello, Benny.”
”Aw, you. Back then?”
”Yes, it’s been snowin’.”
”I know that . . . dafty.”
”Guess what I’ve got in me hands ?” Dick held his closed palms up towards Benny’s face. He
was grinning mischievously.
”Won’t.”
”Go on, guess.” .,
”Bird.”
”Bird ? ... No, snow.” As he said the word snow he opened his hands and threw what remained of
the snow from his wet palms into Benny’s face.
What happened next occurred so quickly that it froze Dick’s
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ability to cry out. As Benny’s arm flung him aside he stumbled backwards and only managed to
stop himself from falling by gripping a bike stand ; then he was walking backwards with Benny
advancing on him and holding in his hand a twelve inch spanner, all the while talking
incoherently.
It wasn’t until Dick felt the heat from the stove that he was able to give voice to his fear, and he shouted, ”Don’t Benny! Don’t! I meant no harm. Don’t, Benny!”
”You . . . you took her away. Yes, you did.”
”Don’t, Benny! I’ll be burnt. I’ll be burnt.” ; ,
”Yes, yes, you will be burnt, you’ll go to hell.”
”Dad! Dad!”
When the fierce heat struck the back of his neck and he knew that if he put his hand behind him
it would touch the red-hot stove he let out a high scream; then another and another.
Abel had been crossing the yard towards the kitchen with the intention of telling Hilda that this
particular job was finished and he was going to take the car round to its owner when he heard the
scream; and Hilda heard it too, for she was busy at the sink, and in the shadowy light of the gate
lamp she had seen Abel making for the house.
Both she and Arthur Baines reached the entrance to the bicycle shed at the same moment, and
they stopped and stood transfixed watching Abel moving slowly up the middle of the shed. He
was talking quietly, soothingly, saying, ”What is it, Benny? What’s happened ? Stay your hand a
minute, Benny.” Then he stopped as Benny moved a step nearer to Dick, the spanner held over
the boy’s head now as he cried, ”You don’t come near me, mister. You don’t come near me.
You’re not me boss. He’s taken her away. I told me mam he’s taken her away.”
Hilda was now standing at Abel’s side and her voice, too, was soft and soothing as she said,
”Benny! Benny! listen to me. You wouldn’t hurt Dick, you like Dick.”
”No, I don’t. No, I don’t. He wants to sleep in the house. Me mam says that, me mam knows. Big
fellow’ll marry you, me mam says ; set his cap for you she says ; then young ’un sleeps in your
house. Me mam knows, she knows what he’s up to, the big ’un.”
There was complete silence in the shed for a matter of seconds, then Abel moved forward again.
His voice no longer soft now, he cried, ”Put that spanner down!”
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: ”No.” As he spoke, Benny gripped Dick by the shoulder and as he did so the boy slumped in his
grasp and, overcome by the ieat and fear, he fainted.
It was at this point that Abel sprang forward, but as he went to grapple with Benny, the demented
young fellow brought the spanner down with such force across his forearm that they all, with the
exception of Dick, heard the bone crack.
The fact that he had at last hit someone seemed to take all the fury out of Benny and he stood
now, the spanner hanging limp in his hand, looking to where Abel stood doubled up in agony.
And when Arthur Baines took the spanner from him he made no protest, except to turn towards
Hilda where she was lifting Dick from the floor and whimper, ”You used to like me. Best
worker, you said, best worker you had, you said. Boss Maxwell liked me, he did. Mam says
things not the same since tramp came, Tramps, that’s all they were, tramps. I’ll tell me mam.”
”Shut up!” Hilda’s voice was pitched on a scream and the young fellow shut up, and as he stood
with quivering lips looking at her, she said to Arthur Baines, ”Get him home, Arthur, will you?
Tell his mother what has happened and tell her I want to see her.”
”Will I give Abel a hand inside first and take the boy in ?’
”No, no.” It was Abel speaking now, his voice slow and thick. ”I’m all right. We’ll see to the
boy; only get him” - he closed his eyes and jerked his head sidewards - ”get him out of here.”
Arthur took hold of Benny’s arm and led him towards the door and the young fellow went
quietly, until he reached the opening. Here pulling Arthur to a halt, he said, ”Want me coat.” But
after getting his coat and putting it on, he still seemed reluctant to go and as Arthur went to pull him through the doorway he turned about and shouted, ”Tramp! Road tramp. Lookin’ for soft
spot. Me mam knows.”
It was as if Hilda hadn’t heard what Benny had said, for she busied herself in gathering Dick into
her arms ; but Abel stood with his head bowed, his eyes closed. He felt no pain in his arm now,
his whole left side seemed to have gone quite numb, but he was experiencing an emotion that
was new and strange to him. Perhaps he imagined it was like that which men experienced before
going into battle. Something they feared but something inevitable, something they knew they had
to go through with, and he knew
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in this moment that he had reached a turning point in his life and that before this night was out he would have taken another road.
He had been to the hospital and his arm had been set. Dick was in bed and asleep in one of the
spare rooms upstairs ; and now he was himself sitting before the fire drinking hot cocoa and
waiting for her to speak.
He had returned from the hospital at half past eight, it was now ten o’clock and she hadn’t
spoken more than half a dozen sentences to him during that time. However, she had been very
solicitous, cutting up a meal which she insisted on his eating, making him sit in the big leather
chair, Mr Maxwell’s chair, and placing cushions to support his slinged arm.
When she took the seat opposite him and sat looking at him straight in the face he knew he would
have to say one of two words, either of which would alter his life, the one to direct him towards
the road again, the other to security, but security at what a risk.
”Abel.”
”Yes, Hilda?”
”Things have come to a head, haven’t they ?”
”In what way?’ God! why had he to stall like this; he knew what his answer was going to be, so
why dither?
He felt embarrassed and ashamed when of a sudden she flung her head to the side and her young
plump body writhed as if she were endeavouring to cut loose from bonds.
When she became still she again looked at him straight in the face as she said, ”Don’t play blind,
Abel. You know as well as I do how things stand. Do ... do you want me to humble myself
• • . bare my soul before you have spoken? Yet I know you’ll never speak, never say it, just
because of our position. Oh Abel!”
She had sprung so quickly from the chair to kneel by his side that he was startled, and when he
openly cringed as her body knocked against his bent arm she cried contritely, ”Oh Abel, I’m
sorry, I’m sorry, have I hurt you ?”
”No, no; it’s all right.” ’ :•
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”Oh, Abel.” She was staring up into his face, heMips trembling, her eyes moist; and now he put
his free hand on to her hair and, stroking it back from her brow, he said, ”I ... I know’what must
be said but, as you put it, I could never have brought myself to say it. Even now . . . well, I ... I don’t know. . . .’
She knelt back on her hunkers and her face looked small and pitiful now as she whispered, ”I ... I
thought you liked me.”
”Oh, I do, I do.” His reply was quick and rang with truth; indeed there was no need to lie about
his feelings for her, he did like her, he liked her very much, but he had no real desire for her, not like he’d had for. . . . His mind closed down on the name that was no longer Alice as she said
softly, ”I love you, Abel, I think I’ve loved you from the first moment you stepped through that
door. I ... I had to take a pull at myself when Mr Maxwell was alive but . . . but after he’d gone
and I thought you were fancying our Florae, oh I nearly went mad. I did, I did, Abel.” She moved
her head slowly from side to side ; then her two hands gripping his fingers, she pulled herself
close to him and, her face against his shoulder, her eyes directed downwards to where his chest
showed in the gap of his open-necked shirt, she whispered, ”I ... I must tell you that . . . that I’ve never really been married. . . .’
”What! But I thought -” His tone brought her head up and, her voice holding a slightly shocked
note, she said, ”Oh, yes, yes, Mr Maxwell and I were married in that sense, in church, it was all
done proper, but . . . but what I meant was he ... he looked upon me more as a daughter and . . .
well, I couldn’t bear the thought of him as anything else. It ... it was all arranged before the
ceremony . . . well, that there would be nothing like that. . . . You know what I mean.”
He looked at her mouth which was now forming a tight prim button, and he had the desire to
laugh. He couldn’t take it in, that she had shared the bed upstairs with that man and yet remained
intact. What kind of flesh had he been made of? He wasn’t all that old. And what kind of flesh
was she made of? Yet there was one thing certain to him now, she wanted to be married, and not
only in name, the desire was emanating from her like heat ; it was in the pressure of her hands
and the closeness of her body, and openly in the depth of her eyes.
The urge to laugh left him and for a while pity took its place. He began to wonder if she would
now accept the benefits of
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marriage without the ceremony. If that could be brought about he’d have no further need for
worry.
He took his arm from around her shoulders and again he stroked her hair back from her brow, but