The Blind Miller Page 8

  Sarah, standing apart, was experiencing a feeling of shock, and the shock in this case could almost be classed as severe. That the Hetherington family, this family from the top end who lived in the best house in the fifteen streets, who were the best people among the two thousand or more who filled the houses, that they could quarrel, that one of their members could swear, could even look as if he was going to hit his wife, the wife who appeared as aggravating as any other working man’s wife did when having a row, was a shock.

  In this moment she saw all the Hetheringtons struggling in the mire beside her, and the effect was distressing in the extreme.

  Only one thing was clear in her mind—and her reasoning on this point surprised her. She knew that she understood why John had lost his temper, and she could understand and even condone his attitude towards his wife. She watched him now screw up his eyes as if someone had suddenly thrown acid into them, clench his teeth as if the pain was unbearable, and with his head down, like a charging bull, dash from the room.

  ‘Well! Nice conduct, isn’t it?’ May looked from Dan to David, then her eyes settling on Sarah, she spoke to her directly for the first time since they had met. ‘You want to be thankful there are no two people alike in one family,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, May, May.’ Dan moved towards her. ‘You know what he’s like; he’ll be over it in no time.’

  ‘Yes, I know what he’s like, Dan. And as you say, he’ll get over it in no time, but that will make no difference to me.’ She tilted her chin on this statement and, turning slowly and deliberately about, she left the room, closing the door behind her, and this with quiet deliberation too.

  David turned on the piano stool and, facing Sarah, he bowed his head as he said, ‘I’m sorry about all this. I was going to explain it all to you later, but there’s been so little time. It’s all so very simple, Sarah.’

  ‘It’s all right, it’s all right. It doesn’t matter.’

  But it did matter. Again Sarah was feeling afraid. Nothing ever went smooth in life, did it?

  ‘You go into the kitchen, David, and have a word with them, and then you and Sarah take yourselves out for a walk. Go on.’ Dan pushed at David’s shoulder. ‘I’ll do the explaining to Sarah.’ He laughed here. ‘I’ve an idea I can do it better than you. Go on now.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’ David, his face tense looking and sad, touched Sarah’s hand, and again she said, ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Here, come and sit down.’ Dan put the tips of his fingers lightly on her arm and drew her towards the couch, adding, ‘And don’t look so worried, there’s nothing going to happen. Look, I’ll make it brief and put you out of your misery.’ He smiled again and patted her hand while she waited, sick with anxiety, to hear what he had to say.

  ‘It’s just like this. Eileen’s always been sweet on Davie, but he’s never returned the sentiments, if you follow me, not in the same way. Now her mother wanted to make a match of it. She had her own reasons.’ He smiled widely here. ‘You see, years ago her and Stan…you know, David’s father…’—he nodded towards the kitchen—‘Well, they were as good as promised to each other; nothing in the open or anything like that, but a sort of understanding between them. And then he goes and meets Mary and that was that. But Ellen’s a nice woman, a forgiving woman, and over the years the two families have kept in touch, with the precise idea on Ellen’s part that Eileen and David should make up for her lost romance. You see the pattern?’ He raised his eyebrows at her. ‘But then Mary didn’t see it like that and she had every reason. And they were good ones, I must say that much, because…well’—he wagged his head—‘you would know, anyway, sooner or later; but Eileen’s father’s in Harton, in the mental block. He’s had three trips inside these last few years, and Eileen, poor lass, has the curse of fits on her; not very bad, but nevertheless she has them. And she is also cursed, as you’ve seen for yourself, I’m sure, with a beautiful face. It’s out of this world, isn’t it…Now, look…look. You’re not going to cry, are you?’

  ‘No, no.’ Sarah swallowed. ‘But it’s sad, very sad.’

  ‘Yes, it is, I grant you. But you must believe this. Davie had never any intention of marrying her. Yet him being a soft-hearted chap…and you know he is soft-hearted, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of…’ Again his eyebrows went up. ‘Well, his mother was always a bit afraid that he would sink under the pressure both from Eileen, her mother, and Stan. And now…well, she’s relieved. But I must tell you that his father doesn’t see it in the same way as she does. In fact, I’m sure Stan would have welcomed Davie’s match with Eileen. I think at the back of his mind’—he was whispering now—‘he thought that in some way it would make up for the dirty trick he had done on Ellen. You know, we’re queer cattle, we humans. We’d sacrifice somebody else, our nearest and dearest, to our conscience. Anyway, there’s the tale. And David picked for himself, and a very, very good choice he’s made, I’ll say that for him.’

  He was smiling at her, and she should have felt warmed by his evident sincerity and the fact that David had never any idea of marrying the girl, but instead she felt afraid because her thoughts were now taken up with Mary Hetherington…That was why she had been welcomed into this higher stratum; why she had been welcomed by this woman who evidently ruled and dominated her family. It was a case of any port in a storm. She thought of the little woman’s voice saying, ‘You’re cruel, Mary, cruel. You’ve got everything…’

  If things hadn’t happened in such a whirlwind of hurry she would have asked herself before why this woman had stooped from her high perch and welcomed her. But she had the answer now: she was the lesser of two evils. Perhaps his mother had thought too that if she opposed her son’s choice he might become more pliable under the silent pressure of his father and the desire of both the girl and her mother. It was as Dan had said.

  ‘Don’t look so sad. I’ve told you there’s nothing more to it than that. Come on, smile…laugh.’ He put his fingers out to touch her cheek but withheld them before they made contact. Then with an embarrassed laugh he withdrew his hand, saying, ‘You know, you look the kind of lass that should laugh a lot.’

  Everybody thought she should laugh, just because she was big. But he was nice, this young uncle of David’s, so nice. He should have been the brother and John the odd man out. She smiled sadly at him now, saying, ‘I’ve never had very much to laugh at.’

  ‘We’ll alter all that. You know, before John was married we used to have some good nights in this room. All except Sunday.’ He pulled a face. ‘David’s a fine player, you know. He’s passed all his exams and could teach if he liked, but there’s nothing in it, he says. And his mother plays the fiddle; she’s a grand hand with the fiddle is Mary.’

  ‘Do you play anything?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Me? Oh yes, yes.’ He nodded his head quickly. ‘I’ve got me diploma, first grade; mind you, it took some getting. There was a big do at Morgan’s Hall the day it was presented.’

  Morgan’s Hall! That was at East Jarrow near the New Buildings, a big gaunt empty place. She never knew they presented prizes there. She asked politely, ‘What do you play?’

  ‘The comb. But mind’—he held his finger up—‘I have a special kind of paper on it.’

  She was laughing; her body shaking, her hands pressed over her mouth, and her face turned into the corner of the couch. And Dan was laughing too; lying back, he too was holding his mouth.

  ‘Oh!’ Sarah groaned inside. He was funny, dry; he had her believing him. She slanted her wet eyes towards him and he was looking at her, his face alight.

  ‘We needed that, didn’t we?’ His whisper was as one pal to another.

  At this moment the door opened abruptly and David entered the room with Sarah’s hat and coat in his hands. He looked to where she sat wiping her eyes and for a moment a lightness spread over his face and he drew in a long breath as if of relief. Then on a note he attempted to make jocular he said, ‘What was it? Dan been telling you a
bout the time he fell in the rain-barrel, or when Father was on the roof and he took the ladder away?’

  ‘No.’ Sarah shook her head. ‘About him passing the examination for playing the comb.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a new one.’ David nodded at Dan, then added, ‘You are a fool, you know.’

  Sarah was in her coat and hat now, and David said, ‘We won’t bother going into the other room, we’ll come back later.’

  ‘Goodnight, Mr…’ Sarah turned to Dan.

  ‘Plain Dan, Sarah.’

  ‘Goodnight, Dan.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sarah.’

  When she reached the front door she heard Dan’s voice, soft sounding and careless, call, ‘Here a minute, David.’ And as she stood waiting she heard him say, his tone changed now, low and earnest, ‘The MacDonalds are moving from next door, they’ll be out before Christmas. It mightn’t be the most suitable place, so close, but empty houses up this end are few and far between as you know. I would get things settled as soon as possible, the wind might change at any time, understand?’

  ‘Yes, Dan…thanks.’

  Out in the dark street he took her arm. It was a firm possessive hold, and when they came to the main road he said, ‘You heard what Dan said?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was low and she kept her eyes ahead.

  ‘Well?’ The pressure tightened on her arm. ‘Would you marry me before Christmas, Sarah?’

  Her heart began thumping against her ribs, knocking like a small wooden mallet. It checked her answer for some seconds. Then she stopped and, looking fully at him in the dim lamplight, she said, ‘I’ll marry you any time you like, David.’ Then she added. ‘Thanks.’ The last word had a silly sound. She wondered why she’d had to say it like that; it made her feel cheap, common. She didn’t want to feel cheap or common. She thought of what John had said about being afraid of people. But she wasn’t afraid of David, only grateful to him, so very grateful.

  Five

  Sarah stood just within the kitchen door. She still wore her hat and coat. The kitchen was warm with the heat from a blazing fire piled high in the grate, but she still felt cold, and her body seemed to become stiffer as she looked at the priest, and he at her.

  Father O’Malley was seated at one corner of the kitchen table, her father was seated at the opposite corner, and her mother at the corner nearest her. They formed the usual triangle of persuasion. One using threats—her father; one using cool fear-filled reason—the priest; one using the weapon of superstition—not the least strong of the three, her mother.

  ‘Good evening, Sarah.’

  ‘Well, don’t stand there as if you were struck. You heard the Father speaking to you.’

  ‘Yes, I heard, I’m not deaf.’

  As she glared at Pat Bradley there arose in her, yet again, an acute feeling of hate. She had always hated this man, but the feeling had become stronger during the past weeks during which he had done everything in his power to break up her association with David and the family at the other end. The weapon he used was her religion, and his natural ally was the priest—at least this priest.

  Father Bailey, on the other hand, had been understanding, even nice. He had asked her to bring David to see him, and David had gone and told him in a quiet way his reasons for not wishing to become a Catholic. He had pointed out to him that it wasn’t a case of changing his religion because he wasn’t of any particular denomination, he was an agnostic. She had felt proud that David was able to talk to the priest as he had done, and she felt that Father Bailey liked and respected him. He had said, ‘Well, the Bishop, under certain circumstances, gives permission for a mixed marriage…they are not popular.’ Father Bailey had smiled as he had said this. ‘But nevertheless permission is given on the understanding that you will allow the children to be brought up in the Catholic faith.’

  Sarah had felt embarrassed at this point, yet had waited eagerly for David’s answer. It hadn’t come immediately, but when he did speak she had let out a long slow breath, for he had said, ‘Well, as I’m no longer speaking for myself on this point…It won’t be a matter of personal opinion but what Sarah thinks too. I’ll leave it to her, Father.’

  He had buried deep into her heart when he had called the priest, Father. Oh, David was so reasonable, and Father Bailey was reasonable…Father O’Malley kept saying that he too was reasonable, but he wasn’t—he was adamant, fanatic. By the things he said anyone would think she was marrying a leper.

  Yet this same priest spoke civilly to her father simply because he attended Mass every Sunday. It was a wonder, she thought, that the church didn’t fall round about his ears. This undersized man who looked what he was: a dirty-minded swine.

  ‘Have you thought over what I said last week, Sarah?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Then you know you can expect no happiness or peace through a mixed marriage.’

  Sarah remained silent.

  ‘Can’t you answer the Father?’

  ‘Be quiet, Pat.’ The priest lifted his hand in temperate admonition, then went on, ‘I understand from Father Bailey that this man has no intention of changing his views, now or at any other time.’

  Still Sarah did not answer.

  ‘So in that case you must see your position clearly. Surely you cannot contemplate damaging your immortal soul by joining in a union with this man…? If you do you will be damned, and your children will be damned, and you will be held responsible. Do you understand that?’

  Sarah’s throat was swelling, her eyes were widening. All the pores in her body seemed to have taken on separate lives and were rubbing one against the other, jangling her whole being. Looking into the priest’s eyes, she saw the loss of her immortal soul. It took the shape of agony brought on by misfortune after misfortune as he had prophesied during the past weeks. If she married David, bad luck would dog her. The penance for her crime while she lived would come in the shape of every disaster…But no disaster that her brain could conceive would be equal to the loss of her immortal soul and the immortal souls of her children, so his eyes told her. She turned from their penetrating stare and the eyes of the others and, tearing open the staircase door, she crawled frantically like some wild animal up to her room, there to find Phyllis waiting for her.

  ‘What’s the matter? What’s he done?’

  Sarah turned from her sister and, pressing her hands over her face, leant against the door.

  ‘What is it, Sarah?’ Phyllis was tugging at her. ‘Look, what did he say?’

  The hands still covering her face, Sarah whimpered, ‘My immortal soul…He said…’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Phyllis’ sharp retort came as if from an older woman. ‘Don’t be a blasted fool, our Sarah, and let him scare the daylights out of you with that talk. Immortal soul! Tell him he can have your immortal soul, and stick it…Tell him to take my dear father’s…here’s an immortal soul for you. I bet if Father O’Malley hadn’t taken up the priesthood he’d have been twin brother to Pat Bradley.’

  ‘Ssh! Don’t talk like that, Phyllis, not about the priest.’

  ‘Look, our Sarah,’ Phyllis was whispering again. ‘I thought you had some guts. You don’t mean to tell me you’re going to let him get you down, not at this stage.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not.’ Sarah sat on the bed and, tearing off her hat, flung it into the corner of the room, repeating, ‘No, I’m not! David’s not going to turn and that’s that. He’s even willing to be married in the church, but he’s not going to turn. No, they won’t get me down.’

  ‘Look, Sarah.’ Phyllis was kneeling by Sarah’s knees now, gripping her hands, looking up into her face with an urgency that seemed in excess of sisterly interest in this matter. ‘Why don’t you do what the uncle said, the Dan one? Why don’t you get married in the registry office, then there would be neither Baptist chapel as his mother wants, nor the church?’

  ‘I couldn’t…No.’ Sarah shook her head wearily. ‘Not in a registry office; I wouldn’t feel married someho
w.’

  Phyllis pulled herself back onto her haunches and, looking up at Sarah, said, ‘You know, our Sarah, you’re a big softy; you let people play on your feelings, first one side then the other. When the only one you’ve got to think about is David. Now I’m telling you, our Sarah, things can happen, things that’ll put the kibosh on you marrying him altogether.’

  ‘Nothing’ll stop me marrying him. The only thing I want is to be married in church, and he’s for it.’

  Phyllis looked at Sarah for a long moment now before turning and walking to the window. The paper blind was down but she stared at it as if she were looking through the glass, and her tone was fierce as she whispered, ‘I expected you to be married afore this. Now I’m waiting no longer.’

  ‘Afore this?’ Sarah repeated in a harsh whisper. ‘Well, we’ve only been going together just over two months. And what do you mean, you can wait no longer?’

  Sarah was sitting on the edge of the bed now, her hands gripping the iron frame. Something that she had dreaded but forced down under the pressure of her own particular worries came rushing upwards. ‘Our Phyllis! You’re not going to do anything silly?’

  ‘It all depends on what you call silly. An’ don’t say it that way.’

  Sarah, getting up, went to Phyllis and pulled her round by the shoulders, peering into her face in the dim light.

  ‘You’re not going to live…’

  ‘Yes, I am, but I’m goin’ to marry him. I could have married him a month ago but I waited thinkin’ that you would do something definite, stop being pushed around.’

  ‘But…but you can’t, our Phyllis. You just can’t go down and live among the Arabs.’ Sarah couldn’t bring herself to say: live with an Arab, marry an Arab.

  ‘Let me tell you somethin,’ Phyllis’ voice was quiet now and her words deliberately slow. ‘If half of them round these doors were as decent as them Arabs—not all, mind you, not all, I know that, I’m not daft—but taking them singularly and weighing them one against the other, this lot would lose hands down.’