The Moth, page 33
He was smiling, he was happy.
‘Here, my dear, drink that up, a nice hot cup of tea. Now we were just going to have a meal, you’ll have a bite?’
‘No. No, thank you, just the tea. I’ve . . . I’ve got to get back.’ She turned her gaze down on Robert now, saying, ‘It’s . . . it’s Dave, he’s become demented. I’m . . . I’m afraid. He . . . he’s got the idea that you are going to buy the house.’
He pulled himself upwards and, his head back, he let out a deep laugh, then said, ‘Never! Never!’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded up at him. ‘He imagines you are going to live there.’
He turned and looked at Alice and, the laughter sliding from his face, he said, ‘Can you imagine it, anyone being as mad as that? All because I used to talk to Miss Millie.’
Yes, Alice thought to herself, she could imagine it; she had lived with a man for years who had been obsessed by his daughter. But what had turned Mr Waters’ brain was not only the love for the young deranged girl but for this one here too. Apparently from what Robbie had already said the old man and his wife had not only run the house for years, but had brought the two lasses up, and in a way she could understand the man’s feelings when the apple of his eye, so to speak, stepped out of her class. And there was no doubt about it, she was stepping out of her class. But then that wasn’t to say it was going to harm her, or that she would sink under it. No, not since she had picked a man like Robbie. But again that wasn’t to say that life was going to run smoothly for them. Oh no. And now here she was, pleading with Robbie to go back with her, and only an hour or so ago her own heart had practically sung when he had come home and said he was here to stay, at least until he joined up. That white feather business had got him down an’ all. Eeh! That was terrible.
She listened now to the lass saying, ‘It will only be for a short time until I can make arrangements and get Millie away. I’m afraid he’s quite insane, it’s in his eyes. For years they’ve dubbed poor Millie as someone out of her mind, and I was right when I wouldn’t have any of it, for when I looked at Dave just a little while ago I saw insanity in all its darkness, and I knew I was right about Millie and always had been. Odd she may be, but not insane.’
‘Would you excuse me a minute?’ Alice didn’t wait for an answer but left them together, and as she went into the dining room the thought that was niggling at her was, if the lass got settled, would he go with her?
Settled? She stood looking towards the bright fire and again said to herself, settled? This was his home, this was where he would settle. They could come here, her and the young lass, she wouldn’t mind that, oh no, because once that was done he’d be here for life, she would never lose him again . . . except through the war. Yes, there was that. But if the lass came here, she’d be company, they’d be company for each other . . .
Robert was saying much the same thing as he sat on the settle close to her, her hands tightly clasped in his. ‘Look,’ he was saying, ‘don’t worry about having any place to go, if you could face it, you’re right here. I know me aunt. Well, I’ve got to say it, what I want, she wants. She’s as lonely as you are, or once was. There’s plenty of room and I’ve got the place next door now. Why, we could house a staff here.’ He drew her hands tightly up against his chest, and solemnly he looked into her face as he said, ‘There’d be no strings. I’d be away. I’m going in tomorrow and that’ll fix it.’ And now he allowed a grin to come to his face as he ended, ‘A bright lad like me, they’ll grab me up and send me over afore I’ve hardly got me uniform on.’
‘Oh! Robert. Robert.’
‘Now, now. Don’t start to cry again; you know what happened last time. I’ll go back with you. We’ll take the trap and bring what is necessary for both of you. Then tomorrow you can get in touch with that brother of yours. Huh!’ – he jerked his chin upwards – ‘I’d better not be here, had I, when he sees what you’ve come down to?’
‘Robert.’
‘Yes, my dear.’
‘Robert.’
He nodded at her. ‘Yes, yes, what is it?’
‘Will you marry me, Mr Bradley?’
His eyes were wide. Then he shut his lids for a moment tightly, his teeth pressed down on his lip and after a moment of silence he said, ‘You know what you’re saying, Miss Thorman?’
She responded in like manner, saying, ‘Yes, Mr Bradley, I know what I’m saying.’
‘You know it’ll be tough for you?’
‘I don’t know any such thing.’
‘Well, I do. You will be shunned by your own kind, ostracised is the word, isn’t it?’ He gave a mirthless smile. ‘You’ll have to mix with my kind, an’ the majority of them won’t be to your taste. Then there are those brothers of yours. I could bet once I’m in the army they’ll see I’m in the front of the front line.’
‘Are you refusing me?’
‘Oh, Aggie!’ Again she was in his arms, again his lips were hard on hers.
When finally they drew apart he held her face between his hands as he said, ‘There may be minutes in my life happier than these, but I can’t imagine them, and the honest truth is, I never knew what would come out of this, but even in my wildest dreams I didn’t think . . . well—’ He swallowed deeply, then stroking her cheek he said, ‘The first time I saw you in the wood, in the moonlight, I thought, There’s a madam if ever there was, a haughty upper-class piece.’ He laughed now and hugged her to him. ‘And you know something? When I came to work for you, I couldn’t stand you, at least that’s what I told meself. And then the day I picked you up from the ground I asked myself who I was kidding. I knew then I loved you. It was my first real experience of love . . . real love, and since then, Aggie, and I’ll always call you Aggie, not Agnes—’ He bent forward and touched her lips lightly now before going on, ‘As I said, since then I’ve never known a moment’s peace, not till this minute. And yes, Miss Thorman, I will accept your proposal to marry you. Let anybody try to stop me.’
Once again they were enfolded, and only parted on the sound of coughing coming from the hallway. They both turned and looked towards Alice; and now Robert, getting to his feet pulled Agnes up with him and, his arm about her, he looked towards his aunt and said, ‘Well, you’ll not be surprised. You know what?’ His face was alight now, a deep twinkle in his eye. ‘She’s asked me to marry her. Cheeky monkey, isn’t she?’ He hugged Agnes towards him and her head fell on his shoulder, and Alice came up to them, holding out her hands and saying softly, ‘I’ll give you me blessing but only on one condition, that you settle here for life.’
‘We accept that condition, Mrs Bradley.’ He nodded at her, then looked at Agnes, and she, too full to speak, listened to him now saying, ‘We had to buy that place next door, hadn’t we? When I’m finished with it, it will rival any manor house. Might be smaller, but wait till you see the inside. And I’ll make every piece of that furniture with me own hands. I’ll strip that place down and panel it and it will be for you, just yours.’ He looked down into her face, his own unsmiling now, and he added, ‘I mean that, a place of your own, where you can be by yourself, and even I’ll have to knock on the door afore I can come in.’
‘Oh, Robert. Oh, Mrs Bradley.’ Her tears were now flowing down her face as she turned to Alice, saying, ‘You . . . you don’t know what this means to me; you can have no conception of the joy and relief that I have some place to come to, and someone to come to’ – she cast her glance at Robert – ‘someone who will accept Millie. I hope you will like Millie, Mrs Bradley. She’s a sweet, sweet child. That’s all she is, she’s nearly nineteen years old but she’s still a child.’
‘Nobody could help but like Millie, and you’ll see when you first meet her.’ Robert was nodding at Alice. ‘Anyway, we’ll go and get it over with. They can have my room tonight, eh, that’ll be all right? And I’ll go back among the sawdust. I liked it up there anyway.’
‘You’ll do no such thing. I’ll have the other room ready for you as soon as you get back. Now get yourselves away. But wrap up well, dear.’ She handed the scarf to Agnes but Robert took it from her and, putting it over Agnes’ head, he pushed her back towards the settee; saying, ‘Stay there a minute until I get the trap out; it’s no use coming out in the cold.’
Left together, they looked at each other; then Alice, sitting down beside Agnes, said, ‘’Tis a big step you’re taking and I know you’ll feel strange, but for my part, I’ll do me best to ease things.’
‘Oh, Mrs Bradley. If you only knew how grateful I am. Please don’t think that I am leaving something marvellous, it is the opposite way about. I’ve led a lonely, narrow, harassed life. I cannot remember knowing any real happiness until this last half-hour. No matter what happens in the future, and I am sensible enough to know there will be difficulties, but I can assure you they won’t arise because, to use a phrase that has been thrown at me so much of late, I’m stepping out of my class; to my mind at this moment the step is upwards, and for my part I will try and do my very best not to intrude on you’ – she paused – ‘well, your routine and your way of life.’
‘Oh, my dear, don’t worry about that. If you only knew how grateful I am to have someone round the house again. Since I lost my daughter and then my husband my life has been empty. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had Robert. But . . . but I didn’t have enough of him.’ She smiled now, then added soberly, ‘Oh, if it wasn’t for this awful war and he hadn’t to go away, life would . . . well, be perfect.’
‘You ready, dear?’
She rose from the settee and took his outstretched hand; then they all went into the yard where the trap was waiting and when the two of them had mounted it, Alice, looking at them, smiled and said, ‘Hurry back. I’ll have a good supper waiting for you. And just tell yourselves’ – she nodded from one to the other – ‘this is the last time you’ll have to make that journey.’
Twelve
Peggy Waters had for a long time realised that her husband was nearing the border of insanity, but now she knew he had crossed it when he came tearing into the kitchen shouting at her, ‘She’s gone! She’s gone to him. She’ll bring him back. ’Tis not to be borne. I tell you, woman, ’tis not to be borne. I won’t stand it. No, never, him in the master’s bedroom. That was his father’s afore him. I served them both. Gentlemen. Gentlemen. And now this scum comin’ into this house, Well, I’ll put a stop to that.’
As he now ran towards the back door she clutched at him, trying to hold him, beseeching him, ‘Dave! Dave! Have sense, he can’t buy this place, he wouldn’t have the money. Whatever the carpenter left it would be nothing like the money to buy this place.’
‘Leave go, woman! I know what he’s up to. Right from the minute he stepped into this house, I saw it in his face. He followed her about, he mesmerised her, like he did the child. He’s a devil. His uncle tried to kill him, his uncle knew what he was.’
‘Give over. Give over. You know his uncle came and explained. You remember . . . you remember, New Year’s Day.’
‘I remember his every move was to get her. And look what he’s done to her, a lady like her, brought her down, dragged her into the gutter. But he won’t do it in this house. Oh no, he won’t do it in this house.’ With a twist of his arm he thrust her from him and rushed out into the yard; and now as quickly she rushed back up the kitchen, through the hall, across the gallery and to Millie’s room and, pushing open the door, she cried to Ruthie, ‘Come! Come quickly and give me a hand with your father. He’s gone clean mad.’ She paused, then jumped aside as the poodle sprang past her, and Millie cried, ‘Oh, look! Look! Lady’s gone. Let me get her. Let me get her.’
Together they restrained her, but gently, pressing her back into the room, and it was Ruthie who said, ‘’Tis all right, Miss Millie, ’tis all right. I’ll get her. Now you stay there, I’ll get her. Now don’t move. Be a good girl. I’ll be back in a minute.’ And she pressed Millie on to the foot of the bed. Then both she and Peggy ran towards the door, where Ruthie took the precaution of turning the key in the lock before following her mother at a run down the stairs.
Left alone, Millie sat picking at the threads of the eiderdown between her finger and thumb, talking as she did so: ‘She’ll get lost. She doesn’t know her way without me, she’ll get lost. She’s never been out in the dark. But then it won’t be very dark, the moon’s coming up. But it isn’t very bright yet. You’re naughty, Lady, you’re very naughty you know.’ She went on picking at the threads. ‘They won’t be able to find you, you’ll be lost, lost.’
Of a sudden she got up from the bed and went to the door, and when she found she couldn’t open it she rattled the handle. Then turning about, she walked back to the middle of the room saying, ‘They shouldn’t do that, they know I don’t like to be locked in. Aggie! Aggie!’ She ran back to the door and beat on it with her fists, calling all the while, ‘Aggie! Aggie! Lady’s out! Open the door, please. Please, Aggie, open the door, I must get Lady. I must find her. She gets frightened.’
When her hand began to ache she turned round again, and now she went to the window. It was closed and the sneck was locked. She brought a chair and stood on it and pulled the sneck loose. It was very stiff and it hurt her fingers. And now, putting each hand under the metal lips attached to the bottom frame, she slowly eased it upwards. It seemed much heavier tonight than it had done when last she had opened it and shaken the branches of the wisteria.
A cold wind blew on her face and made her shiver. She went to the bed rail and picked up her woolly dressing gown and put it on, and she had just returned to the window and looked downwards when she saw a small white dot running along the terrace below. And now leaning forward, she called, ‘Lady! Lady! Come back! Come back!’ But Lady disappeared around the side of the house. Dear oh dear! If she got into the wood, she might run until she got on to the road, and they weren’t allowed to go on the road. She had told her that she mustn’t go on the road. Oh, Lady. Lady.
She leant well out of the window and gripped the thick old gnarled branch of the wisteria. She had never yet climbed down it, but she had many times imagined doing so, and now the door being locked, she knew she couldn’t get out except through the window.
She knelt on the broad sill, then reaching out through the window to the side of the wall, she gripped a stout old shoot whose tentacles were embedded in the stone and so pulled herself on to the outer sill. Then gripping the shoot with both hands she lifted one foot and placed it on a branch. Then she giggled. It was easy, like a ladder. She was clinging now with both hands to the main shoot of the wisteria and her right foot was groping for another hold. When it found it, she began her descent and all thought of the dog went out of her mind as she hung in mid-air. It was lovely, like flying. She knew she would fly one day. She wouldn’t tell them that she could fly, not even Aggie, because Aggie would be vexed and shut the window permanently. When she was more than halfway down her dressing gown got caught on a branch and she had to release one hand to disentangle it. But she laughed as she was doing it. It was so exciting. The night air was blowing through her hair making her feel cool, light. She would like to hang on here forever. But then there was Lady. Oh yes, that’s what she had come down for, Lady.
When her feet touched the ground she stood for a moment looking up into the sky. There was a moon shining somewhere, but it was behind the clouds. Yet the clouds were light . . . Everything was light, her feet were light. She now ran in the direction she had seen the dog go and as soon as she turned the corner of the house, she saw her. She was sniffing round the rain barrel, and she called to her softly, ‘Lady. Lady. You’re a naughty girl. Yes, you are.’
The dog remained still while Millie picked her up; then when it licked her face she gurgled happily and hugging it to her, she said, ‘You’re cold. You will catch a cold. We must go indoors. You’re a very, very naughty doggie.’
She went towards the door that led on to the back staircase. This door was rarely used and, like the other doors of the house, was never locked. The staircase was dark and she had to grope her way up. The landing formed the beginning of a long passage that opened out on to a small hallway and the door leading from this led into the extreme end of the gallery that ended in the north wing. As she went to open the door she heard excited voices on the landing and she closed it again. That was Peggy and Ruthie. They would be vexed with her and tell Aggie, and Aggie would scold her. She would wait here until they were gone.
There was a pale light coming through the landing window and she went and sat on the edge of the narrow sill and waited, all the time talking to the poodle in an undertone . . .
In the kitchen his deranged mind was telling Dave Waters that if he wasn’t careful, cute, they’d stop him in his purpose, and so when he saw his wife and daughter coming towards him he said in a voice that was so calm it took the wind out of their sails, ‘Now let’s talk things over as sensibly as I can the way I’m feeling. She’s gone to him, hasn’t she?’ He looked from one to the other. ‘And we’ve got our marching orders. Well, what are we going to do about it?’
The mother and daughter looked at each other; then Peggy said, ‘We could go to Maggie’s. We’d be welcome there. And . . . and Ruthie can get a job anywhere.’
‘Yes, I can that, yes.’ Ruthie was nodding at her father now, at the same time wondering what had caused her mother to panic in the way she had.
