Riley, page 22
‘Yes, you’ve said it, one of his old cronies, Mr Peter. Yes, just as you say. But you can be thankful that your whisky will be able to live a little longer,’ and she flounced down the room.
Riley whispered, ‘I think someone should tip that fellow the wink,’ and Nyrene whispered back, ‘Well, don’t let it be you; things will work out in the end. Mind your own business, Mr Riley; Mac wouldn’t thank you for any help in that quarter, I’m telling you.’ …
It was just on five minutes to twelve when Nyrene pulled the lambswool collar tightly around Riley’s neck, but when she went to draw down the woollen flaps over his ears, he said, ‘Don’t cover up my lugs, woman, I won’t be able to hear.’
‘You’ll not have any lugs left if you go out there bare-faced, Mr Peter.’
‘Oh, that won’t make any difference,’ put in Nyrene quickly, ‘he’s always been bare-faced…Somebody’s outside. There’s somebody coming along the front.’
They became quiet, listening, and when the footsteps stopped outside the door they waited a moment for the knock. It didn’t come, but a voice said, ‘I ken ye’ll be standin’ there, Mr Riley, sir, all ready to come out.’
They exchanged quick glances and there was a muttered, ‘Who would believe it?’ from Mrs Atkins, and when the voice said again, ‘Ye can come out and join me but I ken if such was ye did, and your good lady was going to have a bairn ’twould sure be twins.’
Nyrene closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hand, while Riley bit tightly on his lip before calling, and in a good imitation of Mac’s voice, ‘Well, man, I’m not after wanting twins, so I’ll bide awhile and let you freeze a bit longer.’
‘Shush, now! Here it comes, the New Year. The New Year.’
At this distance from the towns there was no ringing of church bells or of tooting hooters, other than that from the television set behind them, and they weren’t laughing, not even smiling. It could be said there was a sad and enquiring expression in their mingled glances; that is until the hammering came on the door and Riley, quickly pulling it open, let in the tall, rimed figure of Hamish McIntyre, and he, holding up a piece of coal in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other as if in blessing, said, ‘Let there be nowt but peace and happiness in this house in the coming year.’ And there followed the exchange of greetings: ‘Happy New Year. A Happy New Year.’ And Riley took Nyrene into his arms and kissed her hard; then held her for a moment away from him and looked deeply into her eyes; and she returned the look, before he swung round to Mrs Atkins and, putting his arms around her ample body, he kissed her, which brought a giggling laugh from her: ‘Oh, Mr Peter! Mr Peter. A Happy New Year. A Happy New Year.’ Then she turned to the big ruddy Scot, and he said, ‘I’ll take no such liberties with ye, ma’am; for they wouldn’t be to your liking; but I’ll take your hand and I’ll implant my lips on it in wishing ye all ye wish yourself,’ and at this he grabbed her hand and carried out his intention.
‘You big drunken dopey!’
Mrs A’s words could hardly be heard for Nyrene’s and Riley’s laughter; and Mac, wagging his finger at her, retorted, ‘Careful, now! Careful, woman! I am far from being in me cups as yet. Another two hours and who knows, the hospitality being lavish I could claim then to be what you English diddies call slightly intoxicated, but as for now, I could stand on one leg and gesticulate while reciting my dear Robbie’s rhymes and not totter an inch.’
Mrs Atkins’s derision and the ensuing laughter set the pattern for the next hour; and this was enlivened by Hamish taking a flute from the inside of his greatcoat which was now hanging on the back of the kitchen door and, even to the amazement of Mrs Atkins, playing it expertly.
‘I didn’t know you were a musician,’ said Riley, to which Hamish answered, ‘Ye don’t know the half of me, nor of this.’ He tapped the flute. ‘Bridie here cost me seven days in jail, all because I tried to measure a pollis’s gullet with her. She didn’t get very far, and she couldn’t speak up for herself, so they gave me seven days in which to learn her. And she paid for her keep because she kept the lads happy.’ He now turned swiftly towards Mrs Atkins and added, ‘I’m a bad wee Scot,’ and she answered as quickly, ‘You’re a big-headed thick galoot, if I know anything.’
It was just on one o’clock when the company arrived. There were ten of them altogether, and Ken explained the reason why Angus was carrying a fiddle case was because they knew there was no piano in the house, and they would need something to jig to; you couldn’t rely on the silly television.
Nyrene was to remember this night as the jolliest she’d ever had for, to the tune of the fiddle and the flute, they danced reels and jigs: the Gay Gordons, Spanish Tangos, and even a Knees-Up Mother Brown, until four o’clock, by which time most of them were sprawled either on the couch or on chairs or lying full length on the rug. But, led by Hamish, they were still singing chorus after chorus. That man seemed to know every chorus that had ever been written.
After downing mugs of black coffee, unlaced now, the company left at five, in single file, hand on shoulder, endeavouring by song to break the glass in ten green bottles.
When eventually their voices faded away and the door was closed, Riley leant his back against it and shuddered with the cold. Mrs Atkins, whose eyes were unnaturally bright, pointed to where Hamish was sprawled in a big chair to the side of the fire, his voice fading on the line ‘When one green bottle should accidentally fall’. His head momentarily drooped to the side and Mrs Atkins said again; ‘Well! What about him?’
‘Leave him where he is,’ said Nyrene. ‘We’ll put the guard round the fire; he’ll be all right. And you’—she now pushed Mrs Atkins down the room—‘get yourself well wrapped up and over the road, and don’t think about food till dinner time tonight.’
‘I’ll see ye across.’
The voice came from deep in the chair, and at this Mrs Atkins said, ‘I have no need to be seen across, I can still walk straight,’ only for Riley to put in, ‘Stay where you are, Mac, I’ll see to her! Now look! Go on!’ He pushed the man back into the chair. ‘Stay where you are and do as you’re told for once: get yourself to sleep. We’ll be upstairs in a minute.’
Ten minutes later they were upstairs and in bed, and as Riley held Nyrene in his arms he said, ‘I am sorry, Mrs Riley, but I’ve got a headache.’
‘I’m so glad, Mr Riley,’ she replied, ‘because I’ve got two and a bit.’
‘A Happy New Year, my love.’
‘A Happy New Year, dearest.’
‘It’s been a wonderful night, hasn’t it?’
‘Wonderful. Wonderful. Life is wonderful, everything is wonderful.’
Four
It took the rest of New Year’s Day to get over the early morning’s jollification. Little was eaten and less drunk. There had been various phone calls; a long one from Fred and Louise, others from their early-morning guests, all with thick heads.
They had agreed on an early night. The child was asleep. Mrs Atkins had just bidden them goodnight and gone across to her rooms. Hamish had made a short visit during the day, long enough to leave a good stack of wood outside the kitchen door, and to take the youngster for a scamper through the grounds; more than ever today his energy had worn them out indoors. It would appear that the rule ‘run outside and walk inside’ had gone by the board, excused by Riley saying it was holiday time.
He was on the point of walking to the front door to drop the old-fashioned bar into the slats when the phone rang. He picked it up and a little impatiently said, ‘Yes? This is…Peter.’
‘This is Betty here.’
‘Betty? Oh! Hello, Betty. A Happy New Year to you. How’s everything?’
‘Peter, I’m ringing to tell you that Dad’s very ill.’
‘What?’
‘I said, Dad’s very ill. He was taken into hospital first thing this morning and he’s going to be operated upon tomorrow.’
‘Dad? What’s the matter with him?’
‘It’s cancer of the bowel.’
‘Good God! How long has he known about this?’
‘Oh, I think for some time; but he wouldn’t have anything done; he said it was just cramp and one thing and another. Here’s Nurse.’
It was odd, but no-one spoke of Alex Riley’s girlfriend or common-law wife, however you looked at it, in any other way than as Nurse, and Riley said immediately, ‘Hello, Nurse. This is awful. How bad is he really?’
‘I would say pretty bad, Peter; but they won’t know until they get inside, not really. He’s had these pains for ages; but you know what he’s like, he’s stubborn and he doesn’t like hospitals or doctors. Last night, when I came in off duty, I found him writhing on the floor in pain. He insisted it was just cramp. Anyway, I got the doctor first thing this morning and within an hour he was in hospital, and after an examination they said he’s for the theatre tomorrow morning. Peter, there’s something I’d like to ask you, put to you. He’s never said openly he would like to see you but he keeps talking about you and…Oh, I think it would make a great difference when he came round if you could be there, if only for a short time.’
‘Yes. Yes, Nurse. I’ll get away first thing in the morning. I don’t know as yet how the trains are, it being holiday time, but once I get to Edinburgh I’ll be able to get one straight through, I know.’
‘Thank you, Peter. You can stay here as long as you like; there’s plenty of room.’
‘Thanks. Thanks, Nurse. I’ll see you some time tomorrow.’
‘I’ll put Betty on again.’
Betty’s voice sounded tearful as she said, ‘I feel awful about him. He never seemed to have a chance. He could be so happy with Nurse ’cos she’s a lovely woman and she cares for him, but Mam keeps sending her filthy letters. You remember how she once tried to set the place on fire?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Dad wouldn’t let me tell you details about the letters, but they’ve become so offensive, Nurse has put them in the hands of a solicitor.’
‘Good gracious! I can’t believe it.’
‘Oh, you’d believe it all right if you saw her, Peter. And since I’ve left home she sends the girls round here, supposedly to see their father. Susie’s all right, she’s no tale-bearer, but Florrie is, so we give her plenty to carry back. Susie’s dying to come and live here, but I think Mam would kill her if she even mentioned it. It would be the last straw. I’m going to be married, Peter, to Harry on me twenty-first birthday, but we daren’t let her know because God only knows what she would do. We’ve got a flat, but she practically parades there at night-time to see if I’m staying with him. I’ll be glad to see you, Peter, and have a talk.’
‘Me too, Betty, me too. I didn’t know all this was going on, and I’m so sorry.’
‘How much more holiday have you got?’
‘Oh, another three weeks before I’m due for the road again.’
‘How is Nyrene?’
‘She’s marvellous. Marvellous.’
‘Will she be coming with you?’
‘I’ll have to see: there’s the boy, you know, and he’s a bit of a handful. He’s never still, and he likes plenty of space. Anyway, we’ll see. In any case I’ll be there tomorrow, dear. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Peter. And thank you. Oh,’ she said, ‘just a minute. I’ll be going in first thing in the morning and I’ll tell Dad; it will make all the difference before he goes down to the theatre.’
‘Do that, dear. Do that. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Peter.’
He turned to Nyrene where she was standing at the foot of the stairs, and she said simply, ‘Your dad?’
‘Yes. He’s due for an operation tomorrow, cancer of the bowel.’
‘Oh, my goodness! Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘And by the sound of it, my mother is playing hell with the lot of them, sending filthy notes to Nurse now.’
‘Never!’
‘Well, that’s what Betty’s just said.’
He went towards her and put his arm around her shoulders and said, ‘It was too good to last, three weeks at home, but I’ll have to go.’
‘Of course. Of course, dear.’
‘Will you come with me?’
She paused for a moment. ‘I’d love to. Yes, I’d love to, if you think we could leave the linty for a few days.’
‘I don’t see why not: there’s Mac and Mrs Atkins, and there’s Ivy and Ken; he’d be well looked after. Come on! Let’s go to bed; we’ll work out the timetables in the morning.’
How often had she thought about dashing away to some far-off place to be with him on a Saturday night and for a few hours on a Sunday. But it was always the child who had stopped her. But this time, she felt it imperative she go with him, dismissing from her mind the times she had left the child for a day to go with Ivy and Ken into Aberdeen for a day’s shopping, only, on her return, to hear that the child had gone into one of his silences and to be greeted by him with: ‘Not leave me, Mummy. Not leave me.’
She always had to reassure him she would never leave him, that she was just going shopping. He could be away from her all day in the woods with Mac or go down to Ivy’s with Mrs Atkins and not show any such agitation, for he knew she would be in the house awaiting his return. But this time was different. She had longed for these weeks when Peter would be here at home; not so that he took the pressure of the child from her, but that they would be together. She knew that if she didn’t make a stand—against what?—she wouldn’t give voice to the thought in her mind—she would be tied forever. And so, this time she must go with him. She needed him so much, not only his passionate loving but his daytime presence, too; the sight of him, the sound of his voice. She loved to watch him walking or running; his body was so lithe, indicative of vitality and youth. Oh yes, youth, that frightening thing, youth; he was growing better-looking every year and he was speaking differently too. He had a naturally deep voice, and she no longer had laughingly to pull him up about errors of pronunciation. She had never corrected him openly, but when he mispronounced anything she would tactfully bring it into the conversation a little later on; and he was clever enough to pick it up. There had been his habit of saying ad-vertise-ment instead of advert-isement; he would pronounce the w in wholly; and not forgetting fil-um. He was on twenty-three now, but he looked older. Oh, if only he were thirty, or more. Here she was, close on forty-two and the middle years were thickening her body, no matter what she tried to do about it. She ate very little, she drank less, she kept very busy, but apparently to little effect. At one time her breasts had been like shells, now they were full to the hand, but not drooping yet. That was to come.
‘You’re sure you won’t mind coming?’
‘Oh, darling, don’t be silly. You want me to go with you, don’t you?’
‘Oh, you know I do.’ She was in his arms now.
‘To think of Fellburn for the next three or four days and on my own. Oh, I want to see Dad. Yes, I want to see Dad. I’ve become very fond of him, but all the time I’ll be petrified in case I run into Mam.’
‘Well, my dear, if she gets up to any abusive ways towards us, there’s only one thing to do, and that’s to go to the police. By the sound of it she wants the fear of God or somebody put into her.’
‘I can hardly believe she tried to set fire to Nurse’s house.’
‘But she did.’
His thoughts moving along another channel, he said, ‘I’ll have to get in touch with Mac first thing: he never gets here before eight. He’ll have to sleep in the loft while Mrs A sleeps upstairs with the child. Now don’t look so worried; it’ll be all right. He’s got to be left some time.’
‘I’m not worried, darling. I’m not worried.’
‘Then your face is lying.’
Neither of them suggested to the other that they should take the child with them, nor did they question themselves as to why.
It was almost four years since they had last been in Fellburn and immediately they were both made aware of its drabness. Perhaps it was the slush-covered streets and the close proximity of the buildings; even the hospital on the outskirts seemed to have shrunk in size; or perhaps it was just the striking comparison with the place they had recently left, because, from the air to the tongue of the people, all was different.
It was late in the afternoon when Riley saw his father; and then for such a short time. The small shrunken figure was unrecognisable.
Back in the waiting room, he took Nyrene’s arm and led her out of the hospital.
‘Did you find out what they had done?’ she asked.
‘I don’t really know; I didn’t get much out of the nurse. She said I should come and see the doctor in the morning, but that he was quite comfortable.’ He sighed, then said, ‘You know the routine; if the patient is not dead he is quite comfortable. What he’s going to feel like when he wakes up, God alone knows.’
Endeavouring now to sound reassuring, he said, ‘Let’s get back to the house and have a word or two with Nurse. Then we’ll slip along and see Fred and Louise.’
As they neared the house Nyrene said, ‘Hasn’t Betty grown? She’s quite a young woman now. She’s very like you in lots of ways.’
He made no reply: he wasn’t thinking of Betty, but was, in fact, wondering how he’d stuck this town for so long. Perhaps when the sun came out and the streets were dry he would see it differently.
Back at the house, Nurse, Mrs Maggie Fawcett, reassured Riley about the state of his father: ‘Oh they all look like that, Peter,’ she said. ‘He’ll be different altogether tomorrow when you see him, and things aren’t as bad as they might have been. They’ve performed a colostomy, which should help. Your father’s a good man, Peter, a kind good man. He’s had a rotten life and he’s still having it with that woman. I don’t know what’ll happen when she knows you’re in town. We’d better keep on our guard, all of us. I’m telling you, I don’t think she’s right in the head. Anyway, the meal’s all ready, and afterwards you can have the house to yourselves. I’m going back to the hospital tonight. I…I want to be there when he comes round fully. Oh, he’ll be glad to see you tomorrow; I know he will.’
