Mary Ann and Bill Page 5

  There was another silence before the priest said, ‘What kind of a dog is he?’

  ‘He’s a bull terrier, Father.’ Rose Mary thought the priest groaned. ‘Father.’ She craned her face up to the dark mesh that separated her from the faint outline of the hand that was cupping the youthful cheek of Father Carey. ‘Will you pray that she’ll like him, Father, make something happen sort of so she’ll like him?’

  The hand moved on the face and she could see the mouth now, the lips moving one over the other; then the priest said, ‘You want a miracle.’

  Rose Mary’s eyebrows, stretching upwards, seemed to make her grow taller because she was now seeing Father Carey’s whole head as she exclaimed on a high note, ‘Oh yes, please, Father. Oh yes! That would do it, a miracle.’

  The priest’s voice was hurried now and slightly stern and very dampening as he said, ‘You’ve got to pray awfully hard for miracles, awfully hard; they’re not easily come by; you’ve got to work at them. What you’ll have to do is to be very good and please your mother and keep the dog out of her way for a time while you train it.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’ Her voice was meek but some part of her mind was answering him in a different tone altogether, saying, ‘Ah, man, we’ve done all that.’

  ‘Now, for your penance say one “Our Father” and three “Hail Marys”, and be a good girl.’

  It was dismissal, but she knelt on; and then she said, ‘But I haven’t said me act of contrition, Father.’

  Her eyebrows again moved upwards because she thought she heard the priest saying, ‘Oh, Lord!’ Like that, like their David said sometimes, not holy-like at all.

  ‘Make a good act of contrition.’

  ‘Oh, my God, I am very sorry that I have sinned against Thee because Thou art so good and by the help of Thy Holy Grace I’ll never sin again. In the name of the Father, SonHolyGhostAmen. Ta-ra, Father.’

  ‘Goodnight, my child.’ The priest was coughing badly now.

  She left the confessional with her head bowed, her hands joined, and she acted holy all the way to the rail of Our Lady’s altar. And there she said her penance; and there, very much as her mother had done not so many years ago, she laid her problems before the Holy Family, and not only the problem of the dog, but the problem that was really, in a way, more important.

  She would like to have told Father Carey about this other problem but it was a jumbled confused mass of impressions in her mind; there was nothing clear cut about it as there was about Bill. Bill either went or he stayed; yet this other problem, in a way, was also about going and staying, and it concerned her mam and dad and…her. She always thought of Diana Blenkinsop as her. She didn’t like Diana Blenkinsop, and this troubled her too because she liked all the other Blenkinsops, all the boys and Susan, and Mr Blenkinsop and Mrs…Well, she liked Mrs Blenkinsop a little bit, not a lot, but she hated Diana, ’cos Diana made her da laugh, and that made her mam angry, proper angry.

  Diana Blenkinsop was always coming to the garage for this and that. She hadn’t seen her herself because she was at school, but she had heard her mam asking her dad at night why she had to leave her office so often. She had asked did Diana want her dad to sharpen her pencils for her. That could have been funny but it wasn’t; it was sort of frightening. And now, even when she tried to explain this problem to Our Lady, who was holding Jesus and looking down on her, she found she couldn’t formulate her fears into words; all she could say was, ‘Please, Holy Mary, will you make me mam happy again and laughin’ like, like she was a while back.’

  David was waiting for her outside of the church. He was kicking his toecaps alternately against the kerb. She said to him immediately, ‘Did you ask him to do something about Bill?’

  He looked sideways at her before drooping his head; then he replied briefly, ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, our David…you!’ She walked away, and he followed her, just a step behind, and she said over her shoulder, ‘You’re no help, are you? Yet what will you do if she won’t let us keep him?’ She slowed her step and they walked together now, glancing at each other.

  ‘Father Carey says we want a miracle. He’s going to try.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘I’m not daft, our David. That’s what he said. But he said we’ll have to work at it.’

  ‘How?’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Train Bill.’

  ‘Train Bill!’ he repeated scornfully; then added, ‘You know what Dad said.’

  Yes, she knew what her dad had said: anybody who could train Bill would qualify for a lion tamer. Not that Bill was like a lion, he was just playful, slap-happy like. She said now, ‘I hope he hasn’t yapped all day.’

  ‘Some hope.’

  ‘You’re some help, our David.’ Her voice was high. ‘You do nothing about anything, never.’

  ‘I do so.’

  They were standing confronting each other in the middle of the street now. ‘I do something about lots of things you don’t know about.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Never you mind.’

  ‘Tuppence you don’t fight.’ They turned their heads quickly and looked at the man who was passing them with a broad grin on his face, and they both walked away, Rose Mary remarking, ‘Cheeky thing.’

  They were unusually quiet on the bus journey home, but it wasn’t their nice conductor so there were no remarks made, and once they got off at the end of the road they ran all the way up the lane.

  This time last year the lane had been bordered by hedges; now there was no hedge on the left side and the area appeared to be a moving mass of men and machinery. Just before they reached the white stones that edged the garage drive the buzzer went and all around them became black with men hurrying towards cars and motorbikes.

  They both ran into the garage, as they always did, to say ‘Hello!’ to Corny and to see how Bill was faring, but tonight their steps were checked at the entrance, for there stood their dad leaning nonchalantly against the side of a car talking to Diana Blenkinsop. They were looking at each other and smiling, and Rose Mary turned away as Corny put his head back and laughed; then she turned quickly back again as she realised there was no excited yapping or bounding body tripping them up. David must have sensed this at the same time because he called loudly to Corny, saying, ‘Dad! Dad! Where’s Bill?’

  ‘Oh.’ Corny straightened his back; then pointing, he said, ‘He’s out the back in the woodshed; he’s been under my feet and nearly driven me mad.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the far end of the garage.

  The children stared at him for a moment, then transferred their gaze to Diana Blenkinsop, and she, looking down at them, said, ‘Hello there. Had a nice day?’

  When neither of them answered, Corny said, ‘You’re being spoken to. Miss Blenkinsop was asking you a question.’ His voice and face were stiff.

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose Mary.

  ‘Yes,’ said David. Then together they walked away down the garage.

  ‘Hello there, nippers.’ They both turned their heads in the direction of a car that was standing over the repair well, and they called back to the figure squatting underneath, ‘Hello, Jimmy, we’re going to see Bill.’

  ‘Oh, Bill. Coo! He’s been a devil the day.’

  They said nothing to this but went through the small door that led onto open ground and across it to the shed.

  Bill’s whining faded away as they unlatched the door, and then they were almost smothered with shavings.

  ‘Oh, Bill! Bill!’ Rose Mary turned her face away from the licking tongue and David, falling back onto his heels, cried, ‘Hold it! Hold it!’ Then, oblivious of the dirt, they were both kneeling on the floor, holding the dog between them, and Bill quivered his pleasure from his nose to the extreme tip of his tail.

  When eventually they got to their feet and ran back to the garage Bill was bounding between them, barking joyously now. As they neared the small door David stopped and, grabbing at Bill’s collar, said, ‘You g
o and ask Mam for a piece for me and I’ll take him down into the field.’

  Rose Mary’s face puckered. This wasn’t fair; yet it would be more unfair to take Bill back into the garage and have him getting wrong, so she cried, ‘Well, don’t go far away mind, ’cos if you do I won’t bring you any. Just the first field.’

  He was running from her now, with Bill at his heels, and Rose Mary, too, ran into the garage. But once through the door she stopped, for her mother was in the garage. She was standing some yards away from her father and Diana Blenkinsop, but Diana was talking to her. She was smiling as she said, ‘It’s patience that’s needed. You’ve got to have a way with animals, they need handling. With some you’ve got to take a firm hand. I think Bill’s one of the latter.’

  There was a slight pause before Mary Ann said, in a voice that sounded cool and thin to Rose Mary, ‘And he’s not the only one.’

  There was a funny silence in the garage now and all of a sudden her mother turned towards her, as if she had known all the time she was there, and grabbing her hand, took her through the small door again, across the open ground and through the gate into their backyard, and she never let loose of her hand until they reached the landing. Then quite suddenly she stopped and leant against the wall and put her two hands over her face.

  ‘Oh, Mam. Mam.’ Rose Mary had her arms around her waist now. ‘Don’t cry. Oh, don’t cry. Please, please, Mam.’

  Mary Ann stumbled blindly into the kitchen and, sitting down in the armchair, turned her face into the corner of it.

  ‘Oh, Mam.’ Rose Mary was stroking her hair. ‘I hate Diana Blenkinsop, I do, I do. I hope she dies. I’ll scratch her face for her, so I will.’

  Mary Ann raised her head, her eyes still closed, and she gulped in her throat a number of times before she said, ‘Be quiet. Be quiet.’ She did not say, ‘How do you know I’m crying because of Diana Blenkinsop?’ This was her child, flesh of her flesh, brain of her brain. She herself hadn’t to be told when, as a child, she had watched her mother suffer.

  She was about to get to her feet when the sound of Corny’s quick heavy tread came to them, and she muttered under her breath, ‘Go on out to play; don’t hang around. Do you hear? Go out to play.’

  Rose Mary was going out of the kitchen as her father burst in. He banged the door behind him and stood against it and he looked to where Mary Ann was taking the tablecloth from the sideboard drawer. It was some seconds before he spoke, and this alone was evidence of his anger.

  ‘Now look, we’ve got to have this out.’

  Mary Ann spread the cloth over the table, stroking down the edges, then turned to the sideboard again to get the cutlery. And now he was standing behind her. ‘Listen to me.’ When his hand came on her shoulder and he swung her round she sprang from him, her face dark with anger as she cried, ‘Yes, I’ll listen to you. But what are you going to tell me; that I’ve got a vivid imagination? That it’s all in my mind?’

  ‘You insulted her.’

  ‘WHAT! I INSULTED HER!…All right then, I insulted her. Now perhaps it’ll get through that thick skin of hers that it isn’t a done thing to throw herself at a married man.’

  ‘Aw, don’t be so ridiculous, woman.’

  ‘Ridiculous am I? She’s been down below’—she thumbed the floor—‘She’s been down below three times today to my knowledge.’

  ‘Her father sent her. He wanted some papers, consumption of petrol…’

  ‘Consumption, me granny’s aunt! Every day last week she was in the garage. Every time I went down I saw her there. Consumption of petrol! Papers! Huh! They’ve got a phone attached from the main office to yours, haven’t they? Look, Corny.’ Her voice suddenly dropped. ‘You’re no fool, and you know I’m no fool. If this had been happening to somebody else you’d say that girl wants a kick in the backside, that’s what you’d say. You would say she’s taking advantage of her father’s position; you’d say she’s a supercilious big-headed madam. And there’s something else you would say. You would say she’s sex mad.’

  Corny’s face was a dull red—it seemed to have caught alight from his hair—and his voice had a blustering note as he answered, ‘All right, all right. Say she’s all that, say you’ve hit the nail on the head, now what about me? It takes two to make a deal. What kind of a fool do you take me for?’

  ‘A big one.’ Her voice was quiet and bitter. ‘Somebody’s going to get hurt before this play is over and it won’t be Miss Diana Blenkinsop. You’ll be just one of the male heads she’s cracked in passing. She’s out for scalps. She’s the same type as her mother; I can imagine the same thing happening years ago…’

  ‘Aw, for God’s sake!’ He put his hand up to his brow. ‘It’s Mrs Blenkinsop now.’

  ‘No, it isn’t Mrs Blenkinsop now. We’ll stick to her daughter; that’s quite enough to be going on with.’

  They were staring at each other in bitter, painful silence. Then Corny, his head moving in small jerks and his body seeming to slump, said quietly, ‘Ah, Mary Ann, what’s happened? Look.’ He moved a step nearer to her. ‘You know how I feel. God in Heaven, woman, there’s never been anybody in my life but you. You know in your heart all this is bunkum; there’s only you for me, ever…ever.’

  She gulped in her throat but her eyes held his steadily as she said, ‘Yes, I know there’s only me for you; and you know I’m safely tucked away in these four small rooms, cooking, cleaning, washing, looking after the children. I’m for you up here, but downstairs you’re having your fun. All right, all right.’ She lifted her head. ‘It could be innocent on your side, but I know girls, and I’m telling you, that girl is in deadly earnest. And in your heart of hearts you know it too.’

  She drew in a deep breath now before adding, ‘We’ve talked about this in the past, haven’t we, about men going off on the side and coming back and being forgiven? And women doing the same thing. And we’ve agreed that neither of us could tolerate that; neither of us could take back the soiled article, because that’s what it is. The old-fashioned term of the woman being soiled still held good for us.’ She moved away from him back to the sideboard, and from there she said, ‘It’s up to you.’

  His body seemed on the point of exploding with the rising tide of anger as he stalked to the door, and from there he turned and bawled at her, ‘Aye, it’s up to me! And I’m not going to jeopardise all I’ve worked for to pander to your jealous whims. If you had any blooming sense, woman, you would realise that although Mr Rodney Blenkinsop put me on my feet I’ve still got to depend on Dan Blenkinsop. He could just as easily contract with Riley’s on the other side of the field for his petrol, or Baxter’s. They’re breaking their necks to get in, Baxter’s are. There’s nothing signed or sealed and you know that. Rodney Blenkinsop said he’d do this and he’d do that for me, but there’s no contract. Dan Blenkinsop could back out the morrow; he could make some excuse to Mr Rodney about it. He’s in America, and it’s a long way off, and I could be flat on my face before he comes back, and it would all be because my wife wouldn’t allow me to speak to an attractive young lass. That’s the trouble, isn’t it? Because she’s tall and elegant and attractive you can’t bear it. Well, you might have something more to bear than that afore you’ve finished. You say it’s up to me, and it is, and I’m telling you straight, I’m not jeopardising my future, all our futures, because you’re bitchy. If she comes into the place I’m speaking to her; I say, if she comes in; it’s ten-to-one she’s along in the office now telling her father about the reception she got from you. And this could be the beginning of the end, Mrs Boyle, ’cos families are funny things, especially fathers and daughters, and he thinks the sun shines out of her. Now you really have something to worry about.’

  The kitchen door banged; the bottom door banged; and Mary Ann hadn’t moved. For years she had prayed that some day Corny would have a break. She had seen the break as the road going through. They had bought the place eight years ago on the supposition that the byroad was going to connect t
he two main roads, one in and one out of the town, and thereby making the garage a thriving one. But the council had put paid to that scheme and they had merely existed for years, until the American, Mr Blenkinsop, had come on the scene and had seen the wasteland across the road as a site for his factory. And after testing Corny as to his honesty, with regard to a repair bill, he had decided to build the main gates facing the garage, and to make use of his petrol station and the spare land for garaging and lorry repairs. They had looked upon it as a sort of miracle. Now she was learning that miracles have their drawbacks, for she knew that she would give ten years of her life if the clock could be turned back for six months and Mr Blenkinsop had decided to build his gates facing onto Riley’s garage on the further road.

  Downstairs in the office Corny sat on the high stool, his elbows on the desk, his hand cupping his forehead. What had happened to her? This was crazy, crazy. They should be on top of the world. Instead …

  ‘Goodnight, boss; I’m away.’

  ‘Oh, goodnight, Jimmy. Is it that time?’

  ‘Not me usual, but I asked you, you know. We’re going to Blyth to play for a dance. I told you, you know.’

  ‘Oh aye.’ Corny nodded.

  ‘I’ll make up for it.’ Jimmy hesitated in the doorway.

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, Jimmy. Go on, go on, enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Thank you, boss…Boss.’ Jimmy’s long body was bent forward a little.

  ‘Yes, Jimmy?’

  Jimmy lowered his head, then he rubbed his none-too-clean hands over his hair and said, ‘Aw, it doesn’t matter. Goodnight, boss.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jimmy.’

  Corny got to his feet and went into the garage, and as he did so a car came onto the drive. The driver wanted five gallons of petrol. When he went back into the office for change he pulled open the till, took out the silver and his hand moved to the side where a short while ago he had seen a ten shilling note. Now there were only pound notes. He picked up four half-crowns from the silver till and went out onto the drive.