The Tide of Life Read online

  Now he opened the door of the little cupboard and, taking out a small black book, its leather cover so old that it was cracked in places, he handed it towards her, saying in a lighter tone, ‘That was all the fellow found in the drawers, and he left it there. It was no use to him, he said. Well, it was less use to me, but it must have meant something to the one that put it there, so I left it in peace. Look, it’s full of odds and ends of writing. Whoever owned it must have done some thinking, ’cos listen to this. It says on this page: “Thoughts in the mind should be diluted through the sieves of propriety before they are allowed to pass through the lips.” Now what do you make of that, sieves of propriety? Somebody with learning could make something of it, I suppose, an’ it would likely make sense.

  ‘And listen to this one.’ He turned over a page. ‘It’s like a bit of poetry and it’s headed “Sunday”:

  ‘Chopin and goldcrests

  In the garden,

  In the sun,

  Doctor Arnold,

  And philosophy,

  And God,

  All are one.

  ‘Funny, isn’t it?’

  She nodded at him again.

  ‘And then there was something else here that reminded me of you. You know I heard you at the back door one day trying to cheer your sister up an’ you said to her, “Never say die.” You often say that, don’t you? Never say die.’

  ‘Yes, yes I do’—she smiled at him now—‘’cos…’cos me mother used to always keep saying it. “Cheer up,” she would say; “never say die.” And sometimes she would say, “Buck up and be a rabbit.” I used to think that was funny.’

  ‘Aye, it is. Buck up and be a rabbit. But listen to this; this is what put me in mind of you:

  ‘Life comes in like the tide

  On a roar from the seabed,

  And is already dying before its ebb.

  Existence is the time it takes for the shingle to be wet.

  And yet,

  Are they deluded,

  Do they lie,

  Those blind with courage

  Who shout above the spray,

  Never say die?’

  He gazed at her now, saying, ‘That’s what made me think of you. It’s an odd piece of writing really, but it’s one I can understand. Can you?’

  She hesitated. ‘A bit. Read it again, it sounded nice.’

  So he read it again; and now she said, ‘Well, I suppose it just means that life is short but you should keep your pecker up.’

  He laughed outright now, crying, ‘You’ve hit it on the head, Emily, you’ve just hit it on the head. Aye, that’s what it means. Life’s like a wave coming in and goin’ out again, as short as that. So we should make the best of it, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘Aye, we should.’

  They stared at each other in silence before he added, ‘Perhaps your mother knew that poem, that’s where she got the saying from.’

  ‘No, I don’t think she knew that one because I know the lines where she got it from.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Aye, they go like this: “While there’s wood to burn and a kettle on the hob, and a fish with its eye on a fly, never say die.”’

  His head was back, his mouth wide, ‘Well, I’ve never heard that one afore. But that’s one I can understand. Well, lass, would you like this little book, it’s no use to me?’

  ‘Oh, thank you. Oh, ta, I’ll read it right through. Ta.’

  ‘Well, what do you think of me find?’ He pressed the top of the secret drawer down and when it clicked into place he turned and looked at her, and she answered, ‘Oh, I think it’s marvellous to have a place to hide things where nobody can set their eyes on them.’

  ‘Nor their fingers.’

  ‘Aye, nor their fingers.’

  ‘Well, lass’—he now turned the light down—‘it’s chilly in here, let’s go into the kitchen. And by the way, thinkin’ about it being chilly, we’ll have this room fire on every weekend, Saturday and Sunday. What do you think about that?’

  ‘That’ll be nice and comfortable for you.’

  ‘Comfortable for us both, lass.’

  ‘Oh aye, yes.’

  ‘Well now’—he was standing with his back to the fire again—‘what do you think of me now?’

  She looked at him straight and she answered him straight, ‘The same as I did afore, I think you’re a good man, and a kind one.’

  He pursed his lips and wagged his head from side to side before nodding at her and saying, ‘And I think you’re a good lass, and a kind one an’ all. We get on well together, Emily, you and me.’

  After a short awkward silence during which he stared at her, she said, ‘I’ll get you some supper.’

  ‘Aye, do that.’

  While she was in the scullery he called to her, ‘How would you like a trip up the river on Sunday?’

  ‘Up the river?’ She came to the scullery door and stretched her neck towards him.

  ‘Aye, I said up the river. You can bring your young sister along an’ all.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be lovely. Thanks. Thanks, Mr…’ She put her hand over her mouth now, then added on an embarrassed laugh, ‘Sep.’ And as she withdrew her head he said, as if half to himself, ‘We’ll make that a start,’ and she stopped for a moment, half inclined to pop her head out again and ask him what he meant. But like the sound of a far distant bell there rang through her mind just what he might mean. Even so, she closed her ears to it as if it were the distorted thinking of a dream, then continued the business of making his supper.

  Five

  Nancy McGillby had been dead for three months. It appeared much longer to Emily for at times it seemed she had been running the house on her own for years, and that she and Lucy had been going to the market on a Saturday morning to return laden with butcher meat, vegetables and groceries of all kinds for as long as she could remember.

  She was worried about their Lucy, even though it would appear she had less cause now for she was seeing to it that she was well fed. She had an arrangement, with Sep’s permission, that Lucy should call in each day after school and have a meal…Sep hadn’t been agreeable that Lucy should come in at dinner time when he was having his meal. He was funny that way, Emily considered, he liked his meal on his own; well, at least just with her.

  But in spite of her packing food into Lucy she didn’t seem to put on any weight, and she had a worried look; all the time she had a worried look on her face. When Emily questioned her all she would say was she didn’t like the lodger.

  Had he touched her?

  No, only slapped her across the bottom sometimes as if he were having a bit carry-on. In any case, Alice Broughton nearly always sent her out when he was in the house.

  When she was asked if Tommy had been at her, she answered, no, because Jack was sticking up for her.

  Emily was pleased to know that Lucy had one advocate in the house; Jack, to her mind, had always been the best of the bunch; and so she had seen to it of late that he didn’t lose by it for she slipped him a penny every week.

  But today, more than ever, she felt worried about Lucy, for she looked so peaky and down in the mouth, and she said to her now pointedly, as they entered the house and dumped their bass bags on the kitchen table, ‘Look, our Lucy, what’s up with you? You’ve had a face like a wet weekend all mornin’.’

  ‘I’m just feelin’ tired, Emily.’

  ‘But you’re always feelin’ tired. Why do you feel so tired? Is she makin’ you work?’

  ‘Not more than usual, just the washin’-up and the sweepin’ an’ things…Emily.’

  ‘Aye.’ Emily sat down on the kitchen chair and heaved a sigh while pulling the hatpins from her hat before taking it off; then, sticking them back again, she looked at the thin girl standing silently at her knee and she said sharply, ‘Well, get on with it, what do you want to say?’

  ‘Couldn’t I come here and live with you?’

  ‘Aw, our Lucy’—Emily had now closed her eyes and was
shaking her head—‘how many times have I told you I’ve asked him, an’ I keep hintin’ at it times without number, but he keeps sayin’ we’ll have to have the consent of me da; if he takes you away from her there could be trouble. And there could be, you know, because me da left you in her care. And she has the half-pay note to prove it, she’ll say. And that’s what me da said it was for an’ all.

  ‘Now look’—she caught hold of Lucy’s hand—‘I know it seems a long time till me da gets back but you’ll have to be patient. Come on, cheer up, never say die. Look, let’s get these things sorted out and then we’ll have a cup of cocoa.’ She now hunched her shoulders upwards, adding, ‘An’ we’ll have it in the front room afore the fire, eh?’ …

  When, a short while later, they were seated on the rug in front of the fire sipping their cocoa, they smiled at one another and Emily said, ‘Isn’t this nice?’ and Lucy, the smile sliding from her face and her eyes showing a depth of sadness that brought an ache to Emily’s heart, said, ‘Aye, it’s like heaven.’

  Silently now they looked at each other until Emily muttered softly, ‘I’ll do me best. I’ve got something up me sleeve, I’ll do me best.’

  After this they sat in silence, Lucy with her head down, but Emily with hers up looking round the room. It was a lovely room, wonderful to her eyes, the seven-piece plush suite, the glass-fronted china cabinet in the corner which showed off a complete teaset, the piano against the wall opposite the fireplace. Sep said she must start to learn the piano, and she would. Oh aye, she would love to play the piano; she would feel educated if she could play the piano. And there in the corner to the right of her the desk, Sep’s desk as she thought of it; and in front of the window a small polished oak table on which stood a beautiful plant pot with an aspidistra in it. Then there was the floor covering, not lino like in the kitchen and in the bedrooms, but a real carpet, with a shop rug at the fireside, on which they were sitting now, not a proggy mat like most people had in their front rooms but a bought rug; and everything everywhere was shining. Never a day went by but she dusted every article in the house, and once a week saw to it that they were polished. And every minute of her work was a joy to her. She never wanted to leave this house and…and what was more she needn’t leave it.

  Now her head was bowed over the cocoa. She knew the time wasn’t so very far off when he would say something to her. And what would she say back to him? She’d have to think carefully about this. But hadn’t she thought carefully about it? If she didn’t give him the answer he wanted somebody else would, for he was a man of position anyone would be glad to have; besides being the owner of a house he was a gaffer in the docks…It was a pity he was old.

  When she sprang to her feet she startled Lucy; then she went towards the kitchen, saying, ‘Eeh! Sitting here wastin’ time when I’ve got the dinner to see to.’

  Although she had been expecting it, when he did broach the subject that was in both their minds, it came as a surprise to her, for it was on that very same Saturday night when she was almost ready for bed that he said suddenly, ‘Sit down, lass.’

  He often said, ‘Sit down, lass,’ but there was a different note to his voice now. He had been out most of the evening, and when he came in she could smell beer on him. But he wasn’t drunk, and no way near it. He had told her that he would never get drunk again, because it was a mug’s game, but he would have his pint when he felt like it, and she had agreed with him that he should. All men except ranters liked their pint, and were no worse for it.

  As was usual when she was slightly disturbed, she joined her hands together and laid them on her lap, and she sat looking at him and he at her. Her mind was telling her that he wasn’t bad looking. His face was squarish, he had a kind of ruddy complexion with brown eyes, and a nice shaped mouth, and he looked better, younger, since he had shaved his moustache off. When she first saw him he’d had it waxed at the ends, but then he had cut them off and just had an ordinary tache. Then not long after Mrs McGillby died he had become clean-shaven and looked better for it…But he was still thirty-five!

  And now he was talking to her.

  ‘You know something, Emily? I feel that the missis has been dead for three years, not three months; in fact, at times I feel she never existed. Can you understand that?’

  Again, as was usual when disturbed, she merely nodded.

  ‘Now I don’t want to frighten you, an’ I don’t think I’m goin’ to, by what I’m going to say, for you’ve got a head on your shoulders an’ you know what’s what. That being so you’re bound to know I’ve got a feelin’ for you, Emily, and it hasn’t just come up the day or yesterday, it’s been there a long time. She must have known about it too. Aye’—he turned his head to the side—‘the way she went on at times she knew about it all right. Yet God knows by neither word nor look did I ever let on to you how I felt. Now did I? Speak fair.’

  She made another small movement with her head.

  ‘Well then, I won’t beat about the bush any longer. I want to marry you, Emily. Now’—he raised his hand—‘don’t say you’re too young, or I’m too old; I’m not an old man, I’m young in every way a man can be young, an’ that’s what counts. And you…well, I know you’re only sixteen but we can keep this between ourselves for the next few months until you reach seventeen, and then, what d’you say, Emily? What d’you say?’

  Her eyes were wide, stretched; her lips were slightly open, drawing in a thin stream of air; she felt it going down her throat and swelling her breast.

  ‘You don’t dislike me, do you?’

  ‘Oh no! No!’ The answer shot out of her.

  And it was true, she didn’t dislike him, in fact she liked him very much. But to get married to him, to lie in the big bed with him, would she like that? She didn’t know. She didn’t think she would somehow; and yet she’d have to get married one day, wouldn’t she? And who would she marry? Somebody from their street and live from hand to mouth like Peg Watson did, or Mary Nichols, or Hannah Threadgill. Pawnshop on a Monday, getting them out again on a Friday night. And if she married a man like Hannah Threadgill did she’d be knocked black and blue at times.

  ‘You like the house?’

  ‘Oh aye, yes, oh aye, Sep, I like the house. I love it.’

  ‘Well then, lass, it’s yours just for the sayin’. I’d be good to you, Emily.’ He was holding her joined hands now, gripping them tight. ‘You need fear nothin’ bad from me.’ It was as if he was reading her thoughts. ‘You’ll have your own way in everything, I promise you that. And what’s more, once it’s settled you can have Lucy here with you an’ welcome. Aye, you can; and I’ll put up with the consequences of taking her from that woman and make it right with your da when I meet him.’

  Somewhere along the line she felt he was taking an unfair advantage now; and not only now, she had glimpsed his reason for not having Lucy in the house before. He guessed that when it came to the push what she wouldn’t do for herself she’d do for Lucy. Yet she didn’t blame him; people went to all kinds of lengths when they wanted something, and he wanted her. His need of her was deep in his eyes. She’d seen it there for a long time. She felt a rising pity for him, an urge to please him, and a sudden overpowering desire for security, security for both herself and Lucy for the rest of their lives. To have a man who was always in work, and more than that, one who had a bit behind him, for he had confided in her that there was a tidy little sum in the bank besides the money in the drawer. But the main thing was she’d really be mistress of the house if she married him.

  He had said he would wait till she was seventeen. That was more than eight months away and eight months was a long time. She’d likely not mind being married in eight months’ time.

  Her hands relaxed within his. She smiled at him and moved her head once, and the next minute she was pulled to her feet and hugged to him and, his lips pressing hard on hers, she received her first kiss.

  Then he was holding her at arm’s length, laughing loudly while shaking his
head, and crying, ‘I didn’t mean to be rough, lass. It won’t happen again, but…but I thought I had a fight on me hands. Somehow I thought you would say, “Thank you very much, Sep, but I just want to be your housekeeper.” Aw, lass, I feel the happiest man in the world. And look’—his voice now dropped to a confidential whisper—‘I’m going to tell you something. Come Monday perhaps I’m going to give you something, something bonny, beautiful.’

  ‘You are?’ She looked at his face. It was gleaming with sweat, his eyes too were gleaming; and his voice still a whisper, he went on, ‘You know that lot in there, in the drawer?’ He thumbed back to the front room. ‘Well, I’m selling the lot, and all to get one piece. Aw’—he now slapped her on the shoulder with the flat of his hand—‘wait till you see it, lass. I’ll not tell you anything about it, so it’ll be a surprise, but just wait till you see it; it’s fantastic. When I first glimpsed it I thought to meself, by, lad, I’d like to give that to Emily as a wedding present. And now you’ll have it, lass, and you won’t have to wait for the weddin’, I’ll give it you straight away when I get it.

  ‘Aw, Emily’—he now took her gently by the shoulders—‘I’ll make you happy, I promise you. You could, I know, with your looks an’ the kindness of you, and your jollity, marry anybody. But let me tell you something, Emily. Nobody in the wide world could think of you as I do, an’ will take care of you as I will, and will love you like me. What do you say to that?’

  ‘I know, Sep, I know.’

  ‘An’ something more. When we’re married I’ll give such a do they won’t have seen anything like it since Coronation night. Queen Alexandra’s won’t hold a candle to the one I’ll give you.’

  She did not doubt but that he’d give her a big do, but why didn’t it make her heart glad? All she wanted to do was to cry.

  He said gently now, ‘Away to your bed afore I eat you.’

  She went, and she did cry. Her face buried in the pillow, she cried as she had never done before, and she told herself perhaps it was with happiness.