Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly Page 5

  No sleep till morn …

  ‘I’ve forgotten the rest but she used to say that was me, unconfined, except…’

  ‘Hold your tongue!’

  She stopped herself only just in time from saying, ‘I can’t, I’ll get me fingers wet,’ because that’s what they said to each other at school when the teacher told them to hold their tongue.

  Now her grandfather was going for Miss Braithwaite: ‘You weren’t due until tomorrow and she’s going out now!’

  ‘Well, that’s all right, Mr Dodd. Are you taking her for a ride?’

  ‘No, I’m not! She’s going with young Thompson to the coast.’

  ‘Young Thompson?’ There was a note of enquiry in Miss Braithwaite’s voice. ‘A boy?’

  ‘Aye, a boy.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Fourteen or so I should say. What does it matter?’

  ‘I should think it matters a great deal. Are there no little girls…?’

  ‘No, there are no little girls hereabouts, except in the village, and they’re still in rompers. This boy is of good character. I’m a judge of character. He’s got one fault but it isn’t his, he happens to be the son of his father.’

  Bella now heard the two visitors clear their throats; then Miss Braithwaite said, ‘Well, we won’t trouble you any further, Mr Dodd. Bella looks in good health; she’s got roses in her cheeks and she seems to be enjoying her stay. Would you mind if we took her for a walk, perhaps along the road to meet this new friend of hers?’

  ‘I’ve no objection, it’ll save further talk, and an argument likely. Good day to you.’

  When Bella heard her grandfather turn away she said, ‘Ta-ra, Granda.’ There was a pause in his step but he made no reply; then Miss Braithwaite took hold of her hand, saying gently, ‘Come along, Bella.’

  At the gate Miss Braithwaite asked, ‘From which way does your friend come?’

  ‘Sometimes he comes by the road but sometimes he jumps Mr Pollock’s gate. I go to meet him by myself now. I know the road, an’ there’s no motor cars come this way, an’ I always have time to get out of the way of a horse and cart. Look, I can walk in the middle of it and keep a straight line.’

  She darted from them, and as she proceeded to demonstrate she heard Miss Braithwaite say to her companion, ‘Well, now you see what we’re up against,’ and the lady reply slowly, ‘Yes; yes, I do. I do indeed.’

  She stopped and waited for them coming towards her, and when they were abreast of her she turned and held out both her hands to them, saying, ‘We’re near the gates of the big house, the one you told me about when you brought me, Miss Braithwaite. Remember?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. It’s a derelict house—’ Miss Braithwaite now explained to her companion. ‘A small country mansion. It’s very overgrown…’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t that what you say,’ Bella now put in, ‘I mean derelict, because somebody lives there now.’

  ‘Really!’

  ‘Yes, the end of Granda’s wood isn’t far from the top of their drive and I’ve heard the gentleman walking up the drive numbers of times. And yesterday I heard him talking, I heard what he said. He said he was expecting the minister to call, and he laughed about it.’

  ‘You have very sharp ears, Bella.’

  ‘Yes, yes I have, Miss Braithwaite.’

  ‘Oh. Oh’—Miss Braithwaite was speaking under her breath now—‘here’s someone coming through the gates, a…a gentleman.’

  Bella waited, her face turned to the side as the footsteps neared them. They were firm footsteps, hitting the ground hard, and when they came to a halt in front of them and the gentleman spoke, saying, ‘Good day, ladies,’ she thought, ‘He’s got a nice voice but…’ She didn’t know why she added the ‘but’. It was just a sort of odd feeling the voice gave her.

  Both Miss Braithwaite and her friend answered together, ‘Good day,’ and the gentleman said, ‘It’s a beautiful one, isn’t it? A day for walking.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Indeed.’

  Bella knew that Miss Braithwaite was smiling.

  ‘And who have we here? I think I recognise this young lady.’

  ‘She…she happens to be a neighbour of yours, she is Mr Dodd’s granddaughter.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes.’ There was a pause now, and she knew that it was being filled with signs from Miss Braithwaite to the gentleman to indicate that she couldn’t see him. She heard faint whispered words, which he cut off immediately, but which she recognised as ‘How sad.’ People always said that, how sad, and she wasn’t sad, well, not all the time, like today when she could feel Miss Braithwaite’s and the lady’s hands holding hers, and very shortly John would hold her hand and even help her over gates and to jump ditches.

  ‘Well, good day. I hope you enjoy your walk.’

  The gentleman was moving away, and she joined her voice to Miss Braithwaite’s and the lady’s, saying, ‘Good day.’

  ‘What a nice man.’ Miss Braithwaite sounded impressed.

  ‘Is he big? Is he old?’

  ‘Yes, he is big, tall, very tall.’

  ‘Old?’

  ‘No; about forty I should say, and very handsome. Don’t you think so, Mrs Campbell?’

  It seemed to Bella strange that Miss Braithwaite should call her friend Mrs Campbell, and it was also strange that the friend didn’t answer Miss Braithwaite straight away. In fact Miss Braithwaite had to repeat the question, and when Mrs Campbell replied it was as if she were just coming to out of sleep, or some such. It was like when she was at school and the teacher would say ‘You’re not paying attention, wake up! Wake up! You’re not paying attention.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose he was, but…but a little over suave. I…I can’t see a man like that settling in the country.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, he seemingly has. And oh, here’s another young man coming towards us.’ She now wagged Bella’s hand. ‘It could be your companion.’

  When the footsteps halted in front of them Bella said, ‘Hello, John.’ But, like her grandfather, John made no reply. It wasn’t until Miss Braithwaite said, ‘Hello there,’ that he mumbled, ‘Hello, miss.’

  ‘I understand you and Bella have become friends.’

  ‘Well…I…I take her around.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you. I…I am Miss Braithwaite, and this is a friend of mine, Mrs Campbell. You’ll likely be seeing much more of Mrs Campbell than of me because she’s…she’s having a holiday here.’

  ‘Oh…I…I hope you enjoy it, it’s nice country.’

  ‘Yes…yes it is, very nice country.’

  Bella noted that Mrs Campbell’s voice was soft and had a kind of tremble in it as if she was afraid of something. Bella now held out her hand to John, and when, after a moment’s hesitation, he took it, she turned to the ladies and said, ‘Well, thank you for coming all this way to see me, Miss Braithwaite. Will you be coming next week too?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose so. I’ll be visiting you until Miss Talbot can return to duty.’

  ‘Is she still bad?’

  ‘Yes, yes; she’s been very ill. But in the meantime you’ll be seeing quite a bit of Mrs Campbell because I’m sure she’ll be taking walks along this road, won’t you, Mrs Campbell?’

  ‘Yes, yes, indeed; I…I like walking.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be nice.’

  ‘Well, we’re going now. Bye-bye.’

  ‘Bye-bye, Bella,’ said Miss Braithwaite cheerfully; but the other lady just said, ‘Bye-bye,’ in a sad sort of way. Bella didn’t know what to make of Mrs Campbell, not yet at any rate.

  They were well out of earshot before John spoke, and then he said, ‘You were bragging yesterday that you could walk the road by yourself, so why do you want to hang on to me?’

  ‘I don’t want to hang on to you, I just like holding your hand. Don’t you like holding my hand?’

  John made no direct reply to this but what he said now was, ‘Going this way, we�
��ve got to pass the Pictons’ cottage. They’re a rough lot. They used to be charcoal burners; they still do a bit of it. Your grandfather supplies them with chips. If Gerry and Pat are about they’ll likely call and jibe.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, just because they’re made that way. They’re tough, they always want to fight.’

  ‘Can’t we go any other way?’

  ‘Yes, we could, but it would be too far for you to walk; this way cuts off nearly a mile and a half.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t want to hold my hand?’

  He did not reply for some seconds, and then he muttered, ‘It looks cissy. To anybody it looks cissy, but they’ll make something more of it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Gently she withdrew her fingers from his grasp, and now he said immediately, in a contrite tone, ‘It’ll be all right; I’ll keep one arm still and you can feel my sleeve.’

  ‘How far is it to this place?’

  ‘Oh, another ten minutes’ walk or so.’

  ‘We’re going downhill now, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but it levels out in a minute. Then the road runs straight to the cottages. There’s a wood on one side and some banks on the other.’

  ‘How far is it then to the sea?’

  ‘Twenty minutes to half an hour, it all depends how we walk it.’

  ‘It’s a nice day; I…I feel I want to skip.’

  ‘Well don’t, unless you want to break your neck; there’s a ditch to the right of you and it’s deep.’

  ‘I can feel the sun on my eyes and I can see all coloured lights, beautiful coloured lights.’

  His hand now pulled her to a stop. ‘You can see coloured lights?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t just see blanks?’

  ‘No, no, like I told you, I can tell you when it’s night or day or when the moon is shining.’

  ‘But colour?’

  ‘Well, I remember colours, black, white, blue, green, yellow, pink, mauve. Why are you staring at me?’

  ‘I…I was just thinking. Anyway, how do you know I’m staring at you?…Aw, come on.’

  They had walked about a dozen steps when she heard him exclaim, ‘Oh!’ under his breath and the sound of the word made her ask, ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s…it’s the Pictons; they’re on the road.’

  ‘Are they…are they not nice lads?’

  ‘No, they’re not nice lads. Keep close to me and keep walking.’

  She kept walking, her head going from one side to the other the while, and she knew that they were nearing the boys before the rough voice came at them, saying, ‘Ah, here’s Gentleman John out for a walk with his lass. Cor! Can’t you get one your own size?’

  Sensing danger in the taunt, she put her hand out quickly and caught John’s arm.

  ‘Where you goin’?’

  ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘Not so. ’Tis our business an’ all, you’re walkin’ on our path.’

  ‘It’s a public road.’

  ‘Who said so?’

  ‘I said so.’ Bella felt herself jerked to a stop and she was startled by the loudness of John’s voice. She hadn’t heard him raise his voice before. Now a different voice spoke and it came from the right of her and it had a sort of laughing gurgle in its tone when it said, ‘Aw, let them be, our Gerry.’

  ‘Who’s touchin’ ’em?…What’s the matter with her? Gapin’ like a stuffed pig.’

  ‘Shut up, you!’ It was the laughing voice again but not laughing very much now as it finished, ‘That’s old Dodd’s kid, the blind ’un.’

  Bella felt herself jerked forward and they were some way along the path when the rough voice came, crying, ‘I’ll get you some time on your own, fancy boy,’ and Bella knew that John had half turned in the road as he cried back, ‘Any time. Any time.’

  It was a little while before she proffered a remark, and then she said, ‘They’re not nice.’

  ‘Well, what do you expect? They live like wild animals out there.’

  ‘If they had hit you what would you have done?’

  ‘What do you think? I would have hit them back.’

  ‘Two to one?’

  ‘Oh, be quiet! It’s true what your grandfather says, you never stop talking.’

  It was some moments before she said, ‘That’s the only way I can see people…and when I touch them.’

  And it was some moments later too when he muttered, ‘I’m sorry.’

  And she covered his embarrassment immediately by crying, ‘Can we run?’

  ‘Oh, no, no!’ He pulled her back. ‘We’re nearing the top of the cliff. Can’t you feel the breeze?’

  She stopped and sniffed and said, ‘Yes, yes; but I thought you said it was flat near the sea.’

  ‘Yes, it is once you get down onto the beach, but we’ve got to go some way along the top here before we can find a way down, and then it’s pretty steep. That’s why there’s never many people here because the going’s so rough.’

  A few minutes later he said to her, ‘Now look, do as I say. There’s a path cutting the side of the cliff and it’s very steep, but you’ll be all right if you do as I tell you. I’m going down backwards and I’ll hold your hand, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  Only once did she lose her footing on the way down, and when he grabbed at her and pulled her back against the rock face he seemed to knock the wind out of her body for a moment, and she stood gasping until he said, ‘I’m sorry. I had to grab you like that else you would have been over.’

  ‘Was it my fault?’

  ‘No, but the ledge narrows here. Anyway, we’re nearly there.’ When a few minutes later he said, ‘Here we are!’ she cried at him, ‘Tell me what it’s like.’

  ‘Well, it’s just a little bay. The sand here is dry but the tide’s been turned some time and in another hour this will be covered with water.’

  ‘Can I plodge?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, if you want to.’

  ‘Oh, I want to!’

  When she sat down on the sands and lifted up her dress and pulled down the garter from below her knee, John turned away, shaking his head.

  A minute later she was on her feet, crying, ‘Come on! Have you got your shoes and socks off?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to plodge?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Aw, John! Aw, come on; I can’t plodge on me own.’

  He looked upwards. There was nobody walking along the top of the cliff there to see him; nevertheless he told himself that he felt daft at his age, plodging.

  Reluctantly he sat down and took off his shoes and socks; then he was running with her towards the sea.

  When they emerged from the shelter of the cove the wind caught them and she cried, ‘Oh, me hat!’

  ‘Take it off.’

  Before he had finished speaking she had pulled the elastic from under her chin, and thrown the hat behind her; then she squealed a high joyful squeal as her toes touched the incoming wave.

  For the next half-hour she jumped and ran and splashed the water up onto John, and he, forgetting his great age, splashed her back again, and when at last he called a halt and said, ‘Come on, you’ve had enough,’ she went obediently with him; and when they were sitting down under the shelter of the cliff and he pressed something into her hand, her fingers moved round it and she said, ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Chocolate.’

  He almost overbalanced as she flung herself upon him, her arms about his neck, crying, ‘Oh thank you, John! Thank you. Oh, I’m so happy! Oh, I’ve never been so happy! Isn’t it a lovely day? I’ve plodged before but never like that.’

  ‘Give over! Let go!’ He tried to disentangle himself from her.

  His face red with embarrassment, he finally pushed her onto the sand again, but his brusqueness in no way affected her talking, and his face grew even more red as she gabbled, ‘Oh, I do love you, John. Have you got a girl? Mr Jarvis, you know the basket te
acher, he’s got a girl, a young lady he calls her. She’s a teacher in a big school and she sometimes comes and reads to us. Dennis Bottomley, he’s the one that can see a bit, he said they hold hands. Well, that’s nothing, holding hands, is it?…But have you got a girl?’

  ‘Don’t be silly! Don’t talk such rubbish.’

  ‘I just asked you.’ Her tone was less exuberant now.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t ask questions like that, they embarrass people.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She sighed and, her voice now low, she said, ‘Mrs Golightly used to check me about that—embarrassing people. She said it was because I couldn’t see their faces. But she also said that, when I grew up, a prince would come along and whisk me away, and we’d be happy ever after, like in the stories. But I knew it was just a story and she was just saying it to comfort me so I would have something nice to think about when I was by meself and not feel so lonely, ’cos I know that no-one will ever really want me, not off their own bat, they won’t. They might be pressed into it like me granda was in taking me on for a month…’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’ He cut in on her now. ‘I never heard such rot. Where do you get those ideas from anyway? Of course somebody will want you, ’cos you’re beautiful.’

  In the silence that followed even the waves didn’t seem to create any sound, but she knew that he had got to his feet, and she also knew in a way that he had embarrassed himself more than she had by what he had said.

  Her voice was very quiet now as she muttered, ‘You’re not just saying that to please me?’

  ‘…No, no, I’m not. Anybody’ll tell you if you ask them.’

  ‘Well, you can’t ask people that, can you? I could have Mrs Golightly, but nobody else. What does my face look like, John? Tell me, please…Please.’

  ‘Well…’ There was a long pause during which she knew that his eyes were on her, and she waited, her face turned up to his, and then he said haltingly, ‘It’s sort of round, yet your chin sticks out a bit; your nose is small, and…and your eyes are big and a lovely colour, brown; and your hair matches; and your skin is…well, it has a creamy texture, a thick creamy texture.’