Goodbye Hamilton Read online

  And as Bella went to obey, her mistress said, ‘There’s one, thank goodness, who I’m sure never had any hallucinations.’

  Bella had reached the door before she turned, and her smile was tinged with bitterness as she said, ‘There you are wrong, Mrs Balfour; I did have what you call an hallucination. It was about a knight on a white horse, but he was always riding the wrong way.’ Her smile slipped away and she made a sound in her throat which I put down poetically to the knell tolling the death of lost hopes.

  For a moment I was touched by the depth of sadness that must lie in Bella, created mostly, I should imagine, by her life spent under this old tyrant. And I asked myself, how had she come to give birth to such a nice fellow as Tommy. Nardy had told me that Tommy took after his father, who had died some twenty years ago but whom he remembered as being a quiet man with a strong sense of humour. And he must have had a sense of humour and a great patience to stick this woman. Perhaps, though, she hadn’t always been as she was now. But I couldn’t see her any different; some women were born like her, tyrants from birth, who yet managed to cloak their inordinate desire for power until they hooked some poor fellow, such as Tommy’s father.

  ‘You could have done a great deal of harm with that book, and I’ve already expressed my opinion to Nardy there, haven’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you have. But you remember I didn’t agree with you.’

  ‘Besotted individuals are devoid of reason. But how on earth…’ She pulled herself up short, and at this I bowed my head when I saw Hamilton do his famous kick in the back of the front and the spiteful old lady being lifted straight from her chair on the point of his hoof before sailing out through the front window opposite, over the iron railings that skirted the patch of garden and right into the middle of the road.

  ‘You’ve got a cough. People with your fleshless frame often have.’

  I swallowed deeply, and while my eyelids blinked rapidly I looked at her and said, ‘I don’t usually cough.’ Then I couldn’t prevent myself from hitting back at this tactless and dominant being by smiling at her as I went on, ‘Quite candidly, I was choking. You see, I have this wicked sense of humour and your last words conjured up a situation that gave me a little episode for my next book.’

  ‘Episode, for your next book!’ She was bridling now. ‘What have I said that was so amusing?’

  ‘Well, really, it wasn’t what you said that made it amusing, but my horse’s reactions to your words, “besotted individuals are devoid of reason”, by which I think you meant that Nardy could not, to put it in ordinary words, see straight, or think straight where I was concerned.’

  Her mouth opened twice; her eyes widened; I watched the hairs on her chin jerk before she said, ‘You mean to say you are seeing that horse in my house, and it’s having reactions?’

  ‘Mrs Balfour,’ Nardy’s voice broke in soothingly, ‘my wife is a bit of a tease.’ He cast a warning glance in my direction now. ‘Of course she’s not seeing the horse here; it is…well, it is really a fictional character. We all know that, don’t we, Tommy?’

  There was not a little consternation in the room when Tommy didn’t confirm Nardy’s statement, but after a moment, during which he put his big head on one side and looked at me, he smiled and said, ‘I’d give my eye teeth to see Hamilton career round this room.’

  ‘Tommy!’ The name vibrated like thunder over our heads, and the voice went on, ‘Have you lost your senses?’

  Her son now stood up and said quietly, ‘Just about, Mother,’ then turned on his heel, saying, ‘I’ll see what Bella’s doing.’

  I watched the tall body sink back into the chair. The head was nodding now, and she addressed herself solely to Nardy as she said in, what for her, was a quiet voice, ‘Tell me, Nardy, have you noticed anything odd about Tommy lately?’

  ‘Odd? No. Tommy odd? No. Of all my friends and acquaintances he’s the least odd. I can say that with all truth. What makes you think…?’

  ‘He’s been acting strange.’ She now leant forward and beckoned Nardy towards her, and he rose from his chair and went to her, and in a whisper, with each word perfectly clear to me, she said, ‘He was away all last weekend, and he wouldn’t tell me where. That’s the second time it’s happened of late. He wasn’t with you, because I rang, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, yes, you did.’

  ‘Have you any idea what’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of. I haven’t seen any change in him.’

  I would have loved to butt in here and say, ‘That isn’t strictly true, dear, because only a week or so ago, you said to me, Tommy’s all on edge. It’s that old witch of a mother of his; she’s getting on his nerves.’

  ‘Perhaps he went to stay with a friend.’

  ‘I know all his friends. I rang round. No-one had seen him.’

  ‘Well, did you ask him?’

  ‘Of course I did, but he said he had been for a walk. Imagine it, not home Friday night, Saturday night, or Sunday night, and he had been for a walk. I’m worried…I’m worried, Nardy. Look, promise me you’ll try to find out what’s afoot.’ Her voice sank lower now: ‘I think he’s got a woman somewhere: some common piece has got her claws into him, and he wouldn’t dare bring her back here.’

  As the door opened Mrs Balfour leant back and pushed Nardy from her, and he resumed his seat, and Bella poured the tea and handed round her home-made scones and pastries which were very nice indeed, and I congratulated her on them. But such praise wasn’t allowed to pass, and her mistress turned from carrying on a conversation with Nardy to say, ‘She has me to thank for that. She couldn’t boil water when she came to me first.’

  ‘Well, Mother, she’s had forty years to learn.’

  I looked at Tommy. He was changed. There was a change in him: he was standing up for himself. And so was Hamilton, for having now been joined by Begonia, he was tugging on one of Mrs Balfour’s big ears while directing Begonia to pull harder on the other. And Begonia’s lips were well back from her beautiful white teeth. And for the first time I recognised that she was really enjoying herself as the old lady’s ‘cuddy’s lugs’, as Gran would have termed them, stretched further and further out across the room.

  I closed my eyes for a moment as I told myself I must stop this, and I took a firm hold on myself as I glanced at Nardy. He was looking rather perturbed and, as I wouldn’t have him worried for anything in the world, I made myself speak to the old dragon politely: ‘Do you spend Christmas at home, Mrs Balfour, or do you go away?’

  ‘Why should I go away? What’s a home for if not to spend Christmas in? Everyone makes for home at Christmas. I thought that was universally understood.’

  Still endeavouring to please, I said, ‘Oh, some folks, I understand, take the opportunity to turn it into a restful and entertaining holiday and book up in hotels.’

  ‘Well,’ she said, looking straight at me, ‘some people are odd; that is a well-known fact too,’ and I was aware of the meaning behind her words.

  It was Tommy who broke in again, and what he said proved one thing conclusively, he had declared war on his mother: ‘I think that’s a splendid idea, Maisie—’ he said; ‘a knees-up, Mother Brown, would do us all good.’

  That his mother was both astounded and somewhat upset was evident. And when Nardy looked at his watch and, turning to me, said, ‘If you want to keep that appointment, dear, I think we’d better be making our way,’ I fell in with it and said, ‘Oh, yes, yes. I’d almost forgotten.’ And I rose to my feet and, standing before the dragon, whose shoulder I now did come up to, I looked into those hard round eyes and, smiling, said, ‘Goodbye, Mrs Balfour. You must call on us sometime when you feel able.’

  She did not speak, merely inclined her head towards me.

  Bella was clearing the tea things away and I said, ‘Goodbye, Bella. Pop in sometime when you are free, will you?’ She stopped what she was doing and she smiled at me as she said, ‘I will, Mrs Leviston. Yes, I will. And thank you very much.’
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  I had just passed through the door into the hall when Mrs Balfour’s voice came clearly to me, saying, ‘What in the name of God did he see in her? An undersized giggling nincompoop.’

  Nardy was in the process of getting into his coat and Tommy had my coat over one arm and my hat in his other hand. They had both heard plainly what she had said. My head drooped slightly as I walked towards them. Tommy was definitely agitated and was about to say something when Nardy, helping me on with my coat, said, ‘We are going up to Fellburn for the New Year, what about joining us then?’

  I turned, and Tommy handed my hat to me and as I looked at him I thought for an awful moment that he was about to cry; his face looked all twisted up. Then, he was saying, ‘Thanks, Nardy. I’ll be glad to. Yes, I’ll be glad to. When may I come?’

  ‘Come up with us; we’ll be going the day before New Year’s Eve. And as the office isn’t opening again until the following week, we’ll be staying until about the third, won’t we, dear?’

  I could not answer for the moment but nodded.

  ‘But would there be enough room?’

  ‘We’ll make room,’ said Nardy …

  We had come by tube because the station was quite near; but now Nardy hailed a taxi, and when we were seated in it, he caught my hand and held it tightly. It was the wrong thing to do because the silent sympathy made me want to cry…What in the name of God did he see in her, an undersized giggling nincompoop. I didn’t giggle. But as to the words undersized nincompoop, that was a good description of how I’d seen myself all those years ago, a plain little nothing, loved by only two people, and knowing that their emotion had been bred out of pity. But for some time now, ever since I had won the court case and proved that I had a mind, I had felt that I was looked upon at least as an intelligent human being, still small and plain with a deformed arm, nothing about me but becoming quite good company as a conversationalist, and particularly so with those people with whom I felt at home. But that woman, she was like a demon. And that was the word Nardy now used.

  ‘She’s a demon,’ he said. ‘How Tommy has stood by her all these years I just can’t understand. But the worm is definitely turning.’

  I knew he was ignoring her last remark but I couldn’t let it pass, and so I said softly, ‘What in the name of God did you see in me?’

  He drew me closer, saying now and just as softly, ‘Oh, Maisie, Maisie, you shouldn’t even have to think about that. I fell, as you must know, when I witnessed your first reaction to strong drink in the Café Royal.’ He now put his arm about me and hugged me to him …

  Once indoors and seated before the fire with the tea trolley to the side of the couch and Sandy at our feet, I watched him lie back, join his hands behind his head and say, ‘I wonder if Tommy’s got a woman. I heard years ago he was strong on one of the girls in the office, but I think she met his mother and that was that, as you can imagine.’ He slanted his eyes towards me, then said, ‘What a pity Bella is so much older. She’s such a nice woman, Bella, and she’s been slave to that individual all her life.’ Then looking at the ceiling, he said, ‘I would like to know where he got to last weekend.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’ Then he added, ‘Do you wish you were going up to George’s for Christmas as well?’

  ‘No. No, of course not; I want to spend it here, in our own house.’

  ‘So do I.’

  It hadn’t been strictly true what I had said, that I didn’t want to go up to George’s for Christmas; I had a great longing to be with them all, if only for a short time. Yet, Nardy, I knew, wanted our first Christmas together to be spent in his home. And it turned out to be a lovely time.

  On Christmas morning he brought our tea and toast to bed and we laughed and talked for a while. And later, when I got up to dress, I had another twinge in my side. That was the third one during the last week, but it was really nothing, just a twinge. However, I knew that the time was near when I should have to do something about this twinge, but I prayed we should get the holiday over first.

  I dressed and went leisurely into the drawing room where we were going to open our Christmas presents, but I stopped halfway up the room, for there, added to the parcels around the foot of the tree, was one extremely large one. I turned and looked at Nardy, saying, ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What’s what?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. That parcel. It wasn’t there last night.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  ‘I…I didn’t see you bring it in. I…’

  ‘I didn’t bring it in, Father Christmas brought it down the chimney.’

  ‘Oh, you!’ I pushed him and he said quietly, ‘Go and open it.’

  I opened it, and there disclosed something that delighted me on sight yet at the same time hit my conscience. And when I looked up at him, he said, ‘Oh, yes, yes I know what you think about animal cruelty, but those animals have been dead for years. Put it on, woman.’

  I lifted up the beautiful mink coat and held it to me for a moment; my hands, going over the skins, felt they were tracing silk. I put the coat on, then hurried out into the hall where there was a long mirror. The picture it gave me was like a transformation. It was longer than my usual coats, reaching down to just below my calves, and it had a large collar which, when I lifted it up at the back, almost formed a hood. Nardy was looking over my shoulder and there were tears in my eyes when I turned about and threw my arms around him, muttering, ‘It’s beautiful. It’s beautiful. I never imagined wearing anything like this.’

  ‘You suit it. It has two pockets.’

  ‘Has it?’ I fumbled excitedly for the pockets. ‘For handkerchiefs,’ I said.

  He preened. ‘Or invitation cards. At least, that’s what the salesman pointed out to me.’ And he bowed.

  I bowed back; then tugging him back into the drawing room, I said, ‘Come and see yours. They’ll seem insignificant now.’

  He was delighted with his presents: a gold wristwatch, and a silk scarf with initialled handkerchiefs to match. And when I opened my smaller parcels I found in one a beautiful mauve silk negligee, in another a pair of calf gloves, and lastly, a charm bracelet, a beautiful thing in gold and platinum. Oh, I’d never known such a Christmas. And then there were Sandy’s presents: a new collar and a tartan coat which, when we put it on him, he tried his best to take off, going as far as to roll around on the carpet on his back, and his antics caused us to laugh and to hug him.

  I look back on it as a fairy tale Christmas. We had a jolly time at the Freemans, and the day after they came to us when a number of the staff also called in for we had arranged to go to a pantomime. And when the Dame yelled, ‘Shall I beat Jack?’ we yelled back with the children, ‘No!’ And when she went on to say, ‘Yes, I will!’ we all yelled, ‘No, you won’t!’ I was back in childhood, but one I had never experienced. Later, we went to a restaurant and had a lovely meal, and enjoyed the floor show. When we returned home that night I was indeed drunk with happiness.

  Janet, who was on holiday, popped in the morning we were due to leave for Fellburn to pick up the key. She’d always had Christmas off, I understood, to see to her family.

  She came in, her face red with the cold, but this morning her stockings weren’t wet for she was sporting a pair of high legged fur-lined suede boots, and proudly she showed them off, saying, ‘They clubbed up and got them for me.’

  Clubbed up, I thought. How many of them did it take to buy her these boots?

  ‘What else did you get?’ I asked as we sat at opposite sides of the kitchen table drinking our coffee laced with brandy.

  ‘Oh’—she put her head to one side—‘the usual, you know: a couple of aprons, three tea towels, a tea cosy.’ Then giving a funny little laugh that wasn’t really unhappy but full of understanding she said, ‘You know, you’re no longer a mother after you’ve had eight, you’re just somebody who works in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh, Janet.’

  �
��Oh, yes, ma’am. Oh yes. You don’t know.’

  ‘What did your husband buy you?’

  ‘What did he buy me? Let’s think.’ She put her head first to one side and then to the other while directing her gaze to the ceiling, then said, ‘He brought me in a bottle of whisky.’ Now closing her eyes and shaking her head, she said, ‘And I don’t like whisky. What I do like is a glass of sherry; but I’ve never been able to stand whisky. He likes it though. Ho! Ho!’

  Hamilton was now at one end of the table, his forelegs crossed on it, his face almost between us both, and he was enjoying himself. Yet, when Janet said, ‘You know, Mrs Leviston, ma’am, that man’s never bought me a Christmas present in me life. All the years we’ve been together I’ve never had a Christmas present from him, not even a card. And some of the older ones take after him.’

  It was at this Hamilton drew his head and legs back and sat down on the chair. And as I forced myself to say, ‘But…but he’s likely been a good father and seen to the children,’ she hesitated, then said, ‘My answer to that, ma’am, is that he works when he can get it. And when the two eldest were young he made them odds and ends; he was good with his hands, woodwork like. But he’s never done anything like that for years.’ She stood up now, laughing. ‘His main occupation in life is to see how much he can put down his gullet afore fallin’ over.’

  At this Hamilton couped his creels, head over heels he went. And Janet, laughing now, said, ‘My mother used to say a woman in my position had three choices, the same as she’d had: the first was, to walk out and to keep on walking; the second was, to do him in; and the third was, to commit suicide.’

  We were both laughing loudly now, and, as always when I laughed, Sandy joined in: he was racing round the table barking his head off.

  When I said, ‘Oh, Janet, it’s dreadful to laugh at calamities, really,’ she answered, ‘Well, as I found out, Mrs Leviston, ma’am, if you didn’t laugh at times, you would do one or the other of those things. Yet, you know, it’s funny, Rodney, who’s the only thinkin’ one of the lot, says if I was to peg out tomorrow his dad wouldn’t be long after me, ’cos his stay would be gone. Funny that, when you come to think of it, because there’s hardly half a dozen words pass between us in the twenty-four hours. And there I’ve been, lying side by side with him all these years, and the only time I seem to know he’s there now is when he snores.’