The Moth, page 22
‘Will you ask her, Ma?’
‘Aye, I can do.’
‘I wonder if she’ll give me the first dance?’
They all looked at Greg Hubbard before bursting out laughing, and Maggie, pushing him in the arm, now said, ‘You’ll have to put your name down on her card. That’s what they have at the big dances, young ladies, cards. Don’t they, Aunty?’
‘Yes, that’s what they have.’ Peggy nodded across the table at Maggie. ‘And Miss Agnes has got a lot of her mother’s cards, one special one that she had at her coming-out ball in London when she was presented to the Queen.’
‘Eeh! Fancy that’ – Maggie shook her head – ‘being presented to the Queen herself. I would have dropped down dead.’
‘And they would have given you a military funeral with the Durham Light Infantry, the Horse Guards, and the Royal Salute from the Tower.’
They were all laughing and looking at Greg Hubbard. By! There, Robert thought, goes a changed man if ever I saw one. And all because he’s in love. Well, they say that particular emotion either makes or breaks you. And Maggie was willing. He was glad of that. He wondered if Dave and Peggy Waters knew, or if Ruthie had twigged anything. Perhaps when it did come into the open Ruthie would be a little jealous for she was nearer Greg’s age, but although she wasn’t as plain as Maggie, she hadn’t the advantage of Maggie’s disposition.
As the laughter died away the green-baized door at the far end of the room opened and Agnes entered, only to come to a stop, saying, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were at a meal.’
Dave Waters was the first to rise from the table, saying as he did so, ‘We are not at a meal, Miss Agnes. Were you wanting something?’
Robert too had risen and he watched her move again slowly down the room, and as she neared the table Peggy said, ‘We are just having a cup, we’re keeping our appetites for later on.’
‘Oh, yes, yes.’ Agnes now looked from one to the other, and she seemed to embrace them all as she said, ‘I . . . I wondered if you would care to come to the drawing room later to see the New Year in?’
‘Well, well.’ Peggy smiled broadly now and stepping near to Agnes, she went to put her hand lightly on her arm but stopped, then said, ‘We were just planning to come and ask you to join us. We’re having a little do in the hall, a bit of jollification like. We’d be very happy if you and Miss Millie would come and share it with us.’ It was one thing for Peggy to speak to her mistress on an equal footing when they were alone, but she always gave her her place when in the presence of the others. And now she added words that she might have used to Agnes’ mother long ago when to be mistress of this establishment meant something: ‘We’d be honoured if you would, miss,’ she ended.
Agnes looked from one to the other and she was smiling as she answered, ‘I’d be very pleased. Yes, indeed I’d be very pleased to join you. And I’m sure Millie will be delighted. But—’ her smile widened and her eyes seemed to rest on Robert for a moment as she said, ‘you won’t have to be surprised if she wants to dance.’
‘I’ll show her how to do the Irish jig, miss.’
‘Maggie!’ Her uncle almost barked at her, but refrained from adding, ‘Your manners, girl!’ which he might as well have done. But apart from lowering her eyelids, Maggie seemed unmoved by the rebuff, and Agnes relieved any further tension by saying, ‘What time will you? I mean what time should we . . . ?’
‘Oh, any time after ten,’ said Peggy. ‘We’re going to have the meal around eleven, if that would suit you.’
‘Of course, of course.’ Agnes nodded, ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Then she took a step backwards before turning and going hastily out of the room.
In the drawing room she sat down before the fire and looked at Millie who was sitting curled up in a deep chair to the side of the fireplace with the puppy lying asleep on her lap; she had one hand on its head while the other supported a picture book resting on the arm of the chair. Agnes was beginning to bless that puppy: wherever the puppy was there she would find Millie. It was wonderful to be able to leave her for five minutes, knowing when she returned she would find her in the same place.
In a way the puppy seemed to have taken Bradley’s place in her mind. And yet, not altogether for whenever she saw Bradley she made for him, and he would talk to her, they would talk to each other. There was no getting away from the fact that Millie wasn’t normal, so how was it that Bradley should make her appear as if she were? He was a perplexing man; she could not really understand him. No she couldn’t. And she had already ceased to ask herself if there was any need to do so.
Tonight she was going to a party, a New Year’s party, at which it had been decided that he was to be first-foot. But this business of first-footing had never been kept up in the house proper, only in the kitchen quarters, and she knew that on New Year’s Eves Dave had always gone outside with a lump of coal and a flask of whisky to wait for the hooters to herald in a New Year, but she herself had never witnessed it. But she remembered the piper playing it in, and all the family and friends joining hands in the drawing room.
It was Maggie as usual pushing in where angels feared to tread who had apparently suggested that Bradley be first-foot this year because he was darker by far than Dave. Peggy had reported that the suggestion had at first upset Dave, and that Bradley had noticed this and had refused the honour. However, afterwards Dave had gone to him and said, he must do it, as younger blood might bring a little luck to the house for it was badly needed.
The hall was decorated with holly – another thing that hadn’t happened for some years – and there were sprigs of it above some of the pictures in the drawing room. She’d had a number of Christmas cards and these were arrayed on various tables in the room. The whole house seemed to have taken on a festive warm feeling, but this had found no answering note within her, for she was lonely. At times she even longed for the company of James, just his company would have done, without passionless kisses or embraces, just to sit and have her hand held. She had hoped all day that Stanley would return, yet at the same time knowing if he had she would not have been able to join the party in the servants’ hall. No doubt he would have acted the master and looked in on them and wished them a Happy New Year, then let them get on with their jollification, but as to sitting down to a meal with them, he wouldn’t have considered it the done thing. He was even more stiff than their father in this way, she thought, because she could remember years ago her father having the whole staff in the hall on New Year’s morning for a drink and he being jolly. Strangely, it was the only memory she had of her father being jolly.
She did not think it strange that she’d had no invitations from outside this year, because those she’d received last year had come via James, she being his fiancée, and her mother’s friends seemed to have faded away.
At seven o’clock Peggy brought her a light meal into the dining room, and Agnes noted that this staid and dear friend of hers had an air of excitement about her, and she said to her, ‘You are looking forward to the party, aren’t you, Peggy?’ And Peggy, joining her hands on the band of her white apron, nodded saying, ‘I am, I am, because it’s the first bit of jollification we’ve had for a long time. And Dave’s a bit more himself these days, and oh I’m glad of that.’ Her face taking on a more serious look now, she said, ‘I was worried, for a time I was very worried about him.’
‘Yes, I know, I know you were. I was too. Still, it’s all over and forgotten.’
‘Oh, me dear, I don’t think it’s forgotten, not with Dave, it’s still there. I see him brooding at times. But anyway, on the whole he’s better. But . . . but he’s still not sure of Robert . . . Bradley. If I could only get him to believe that that man is as close as a clam, for all his strange ways. Well, perhaps strange isn’t the right word, unfitting ways would be better, because he’ll never toe the line. As I said the day, things are changing, people are changing, you can’t get people to bend their knee like they used to. I’m sorry, dear’ – she put her hand on Agnes’ shoulder – ‘but perhaps you understand what I mean.’
Yes, she understood what she meant all right, and part of her was even in sympathy with those who had to toe the line, but another tangent of thought said, there must be servants and servants must be subject to masters. It wasn’t only the rule in households but in factories and shipyards.
The thought of shipyards brought her mind firmly on to the man in question and she asked herself what the difference was in taking an order from Dave or any member of the household to that from a foreman in a workshop. At this moment she certainly couldn’t see any difference; and after all what was it about service that Bradley should object to when a man like Dave and a woman like Peggy, forgetting the others, were happy in service and were very well off compared with many people round about, such as pitmen and their families. Here, they had good food and uniform and were housed well. Granted their wages weren’t high, anything but. Still, were they in the outside world, they would have to pay for accommodation, food and working clothes. And that had to be taken into consideration, hadn’t it? But a man like Robert . . . Bradley . . . Why had she thought of him as Robert? Likely because Peggy used his Christian name now and again. Well, he must remain Bradley to her, that was definite.
Peggy now put her hand again on Agnes’ shoulder and, bending down to her, she said, ‘You feeling lonely, lass?’
It was on the point of her tongue to deny this, but looking up into the kindly face, she said, ‘A bit, Peggy. It’s the first time I’ve been alone at Christmas or New Year. Even when things weren’t good, there was always someone here.’
‘Those brothers of yours want somebody’s tongue around them, especially Mr Stanley, he could have come back. Who are these people he’s with anyway? He’s never away from their house.’
‘Oh, this isn’t the Cunninghams, it’s a friend of his from Oxford. I . . . I think they’ve got a good stable. That’s the attraction.’
‘Has he got sisters, the friend?’
Agnes smiled faintly as she said, ‘Not that I know of; and even if he had I don’t think they would have any pull compared to a horse. Oh’ – she bowed her head – ‘that’s a pun.’
Peggy didn’t refer to the pun but said, ‘How are things going, money-like, on the books?’
‘Oh, not too bad, Peggy; in fact, much better than in previous years lately. Arnold has been quite generous, considering how he’s got to spread the little money around. And I’ve got ideas for next year. I was thinking if we’re able to develop the kitchen garden we could send some of the surplus to market.’
If she had expected an enthusiastic approval of this from Peggy she was disappointed, for Peggy just stared at her: selling poultry and livestock was one thing, it was sort of farming, but selling surplus vegetables in the market, that was for smallholders and allotment keepers. Still, she supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers and if Miss Agnes saw no let-down in doing it who was she to quibble. And so now she said, ‘It’s a thought. Aye, it’s a thought.’
But not one that Peggy approved of, Agnes saw, and she smiled inwardly. People were odd, very odd. Everybody was odd, including herself, and she never felt more odd than she had done over the past few days, in fact since Christmas when Bradley had given her the copy of Rural Rides. The fact that he had chosen such a book and had already read it himself upset still further her ideas of what was right and proper. If one of her brothers had given her the book she would have thought nothing of it, but that a working man, a carpenter from a shipyard in Jarrow, had not only read this book but many others of greater depth, had set her mind questioning.
The conclusion she had come to so far was not one that classified Bradley, but one that showed herself to be ignorant, not only of literature but of life beyond the narrow confines of this estate. She had come to realise she had no conception of how people lived or thought, although she had accepted that she was more at home among those behind the green-baized doors than she was in the house and with those who had inhabited it. She was still very much aware that she was a lady, bred of a lady who could trace her ancestors back for four hundred years or more, and they had not depended on commerce for their existence as those belonging to her father had done.
‘I’ll go and bring Miss Millie down, if I can get her away from that puppy.’ Peggy’s interruption of her thoughts did not elicit a reply, but as the door closed on her, there arose in Agnes a deep protest and she cried inwardly, ‘They shouldn’t have left me here alone. It isn’t fair. I’m becoming torn.’ She did not go on to explain to herself why she was being torn, and about what, but, getting up, she walked rapidly down the drawing room to the tall window that was bare to the night, and looking out on to the frost-rimmed hedge that bordered this side of the house, she again said, ‘It isn’t fair. What if I were to do something silly? What would happen then? They would come scurrying back quick enough then. Oh yes; yes, they would.’
But what could she do that was silly? She turned from the window and straightened her shoulders, at the same time bringing her chin up. She would never do anything silly; she knew her place, and had the power to keep others in theirs.
Four
They had had their supper. It had been a splendid meal: a shoulder of lamb, roast potatoes, sprouts and turnip, and a suet pudding covered with rich gravy; then they had the choice of bacon and ham pie or pork pie; and to finish off they had the last of the Christmas puddings. Everybody had enjoyed it, most of all Millie who had caused a great deal of laughter at the table as she backchatted with Robert.
Agnes had tried to stop her talking so much, but when she realised that her chatter was raising laughter without embarrassment she ceased to reprimand her.
Bradley was sitting opposite to her. He looked very smart. That was another thing about him that was disturbing for, when out of his workday clothes, he dressed quite well, not as a gentleman would, but in good homespun cloth. Tonight he had on a grey tweed jacket and dark trousers; also he was wearing a collar and tie. His shirt was white and the tie a russet brown with a fleck in it. His hands, she noticed were squarish and his nails clean. And he looked happy: there was a gaiety about him that seemed to be affecting them all.
After the supper they had pushed back the tables and Bloom was now playing the accordion and Hubbard the mouth organ, and very well they sounded together.
It was Dave Waters who surprisingly said to Maggie, ‘Go on; you can give us a jig, girl.’ And at this the players changed the tune to a rousing jig and Maggie took the floor and began to dance. Agnes had not seen her dance before and she found it fascinating, except she wondered why she held her body so stiffly, not moving her arms, while her feet, those big heavy feet seemed to have wings.
The dance ended, Maggie, almost doubled up with laughing, now said, ‘’Tis years since I did a proper one, I’m puffed.’ Then in her exuberant way she cried, ‘Come on! let’s have the Lancers. Come on all of you’s!’ And she held out her hand towards Millie, but Millie, on the point of jumping up, was prevented by Agnes saying softly, ‘No, no; you can’t,’ until a voice behind her said, ‘Let her. There’s no harm in it. Let her.’
She turned her head on her shoulder and looked up into Robert’s face, and her lids began to blink rapidly and when he added still softly, ‘And you, miss, come on, join in. ’Tis New Year’s Eve, you can forget about it the morrow,’ she felt her throat swell and the colour flushing over her face.
‘Oh! Come on, Aggie.’ Millie was standing in front of her. ‘Bradley will show us how to do it, won’t you, Bradley? Oh! come on. I’d love to dance, I would, I would. Come on.’
What could she do when all the attention of those in the room seemed to be focused on her? But when she rose to her feet Dave Waters was standing before her with the look on his face telling her he wasn’t at all pleased. It was as if he were saying, ‘Don’t do it; you’d be lowering yourself.’
The look didn’t go unnoticed by Robert, who having taken Millie’s hand in one of his, now extended his other to Betty Trollop, and, Betty laughing widely, they all three ran to the middle of the room and helped to form the ring, and when Agnes joined them she was flanked by both Dave and Peggy Waters.
It was immediately apparent that the only ones who knew anything about the Lancers were Mrs Bloom and Robert, for there was much laughter and much confusion as they wound in and out of each other, hands clasping. It should be strange that never once did Robert clasp Agnes’ hand. He could have a number of times, but adroitly he appeared to avoid doing so.
Some while later when she sat down panting with the rest, she made herself smile while thinking, Why did he make it so obvious? There was no need; it would have been quite natural, ordinary. Once he had deliberately swung round and turned his back on her. What did he mean by it? He was . . . he was a disturbing creature . . .
At five minutes to twelve they were all mingling in the hall. In one hand Robert was holding a piece of paper on which reposed a lump of coal, and in the other a flask of whisky and he laughed down into Peggy’s face as she pulled the collar of his coat up about his ears, saying as she did so, ‘It’s enough to cut them off you out there tonight. Now get yourself away.’ And she pushed him as she might have done a son, and amid varying cries, such as, ‘Don’t forget to pick up the luck as you are coming in,’ and ‘It’s money I’m after, enough to set up house with.’ This was from Greg as he glanced knowingly towards Maggie, and she, laughing loudly, called to Robert, ‘’Tis health I want an’ an unworried mind.’ And on Betty Trollop’s request, ‘A lad and a good job for me, Robert, that’s all, a lad and a good job,’ he turned his head and laughed back at her.
