The golden straw, p.37
The Golden Straw, page 37
‘Thank you, Alice. We’ll be there in a moment.’
Steve rose from the couch, saying, ‘I’ll go and have a wash first. Stay quiet until I come back.’ He bent and kissed her on the brow, then went out, and she repeated to herself, ‘Stay quiet,’ when her whole being was churned up. What would her children think of her if that story ever came out? The second mistress of a married man, and to lose her first child by him, then to be raped by him and be delivered of twins. What on earth would they think? Janice was always saying things were changing, and changing fast, but she herself knew that morals would not be counted in that change. She suddenly thought of the hat. That hat. It was an evil thing. Two years ago Janice had found it up in the attic, its brim severed from its crown. She had brought it down full of excitement and had stuck the brim on her hair, saying, ‘Isn’t it a lovely shape! Why on earth is it up there? And why was it torn?’ And Alice had come forward and said, ‘Well, I used to have it in my room. I had thought I could do something with it, then couldn’t, so I threw it upstairs.’
‘Well, something could be done with it,’ Janice had said. ‘It just wants sewing up again—it’s a clean tear—and a velvet band put around it. May I take it to the girls to be done, Mother?’
What else could she have said but ‘yes’? But every time she had been off duty during the summer months, Janice had worn that hat; even this morning she had gone off in it. And now here was her beloved Steve telling her the past was to be brought into the open again, the past that had begun with that hat, for, as she had always thought, it was the hat he had noticed. There was something bad about it; it was evil.
Eight
The ball was at its height. Janice and Rosie were sitting fanning themselves as they sipped at the long, cool, minted drink. And they smiled at each other as they listened to Robert and Jason discussing the reason why they had been bumped by Balliol in the February Torpids and bumped by Magdalen in the Eights during the past week. The blame seemed to lie not with the rowers, but with something they referred to as the Gut, where the Cherwell flowed into the Isis, a place where they themselves should have made their bump; but the weather being what it was, they were bumped instead.
The girls were saved from more river discussion when the band struck up once more and a waltz was announced. And at that moment a tall young man came to the table and, standing to Janice’s side, said, ‘Our dance, I think, Miss Montane.’
‘Oh. Oh, yes. Excuse me.’ Janice got up, and as she was waltzed away by her partner, Robert muttered, ‘He’s got a nerve. That’s the second one he’s had already.’
‘Well, you should have filled up her card straight away; you were slow off the mark.’
Robert looked at Jason now and said quietly, ‘But it isn’t done, you know.’
‘Oh, sir, I stand corrected.’
‘Well, I’m glad you do.’
It said something for the friendship between them that they could laugh at this. Then, taking Rosie’s hand, Jason said, ‘One thing I do know. I have the next three with this lady.’
‘Well, I’m sure she gave them to you only out of politeness.’
‘You’re right, Robert,’ Rosie said, as she rose to her feet. ‘He reacts like a child if he doesn’t get what he wants.’
Jason looked at this girl he had known all his life. Her ease in company surprised him, especially this kind of company; he had expected her to be somewhat gauche.
On the floor, he said to her, ‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘Yes, it’s lovely.’ Then she added, ‘Wouldn’t it be lovely, too, if Robert were to become serious about Janice?’
‘Oh, I think he is serious enough, and she, too. They’ve already met a number of times out of term, you know.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ Then putting his lips near her ear, he whispered, ‘And wouldn’t it be lovely, too, if a brother and sister married a brother and sister? Marian looks lovely on a horse. Well, the horse looks…’
When his soft leather toecap was trodden on hard he gave a smothered groan. It said a lot for what had transpired between them last night.
What he said next, and not in her ear, was, ‘You’re a little vixen at heart,’ and smiling sweetly into his face, she responded, ‘Yes, I know.’ Then, their brows touching, they laughed together.
On the way back to the table, he stopped at the buffet and collected the drinks; but when they reached their seats it was to see Robert and Janice disappearing through a far door …
‘Shall I go back and get your cloak? It’s chilly.’
‘No; I like the cool air. It was so hot in there.’
‘Are you enjoying it?’
‘Oh, yes, yes. It seems so far removed from the wards, the routine of the “Nurse, nurse, nurse” and “Yes, sister”.’
‘Is she such a dragon?’
‘Yes, she is a dragon-plus. I promised myself that should I ever become a sister, which is a very faint hope, but that being so, if I ever wanted to tell anyone off, I would count ten, close my eyes and say “Sister Brown” three times.’
He laughed as he said, ‘I can’t imagine you ever being a starchy sister, or even a starchy nurse.’
‘Oh, the only things starchy about nurses are their caps, aprons and cuffs; for the rest, we are pliable peasants.’
They crossed the quad and he guided her to a seat close to the high stone wall and invited her to sit; and then he sat beside her. And there was silence between them for a moment, until they each turned and looked at the other and he said, ‘Janice.’
‘Yes, Robert?’
‘I love you.’
She did not droop her head as she said, ‘And I love you, Robert.’
‘When did you know?’
‘I don’t exactly recall. I think it was when I sat across the table from you at our Christmas dinner. It couldn’t have been before Christmas, because I hadn’t met you. But from then I…I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.’
‘Oh, my love.’ He had hold of her hand now and was pressing it close to his shirt front. ‘It’s been the same with me, every minute. Quite candidly, every minute of the day, because I couldn’t get you out of my mind. There was something about you, I couldn’t tell what. It wasn’t only your beauty or your manner, it was something wonderful. You are wonderful. I…I must tell you something. Such has been my home life, especially in relation to my father, that I became…sort of afraid of girls, or women. But from the moment I saw you, that feeling went. I knew you were the one.’
Their faces drew slowly together, and when their lips met her eyes were closed and his arms were holding her gently. Their kiss was long and sweet, though not passionate. And when their faces drew apart their cheeks were moist and their eyes deep and shiny.
‘If I had the gift of words like your father,’ he whispered, ‘I would speak to you now in a poem. But what I can say is, we have just put the seal of our love on our lives, our life together. We will be married soon.’
She did not coyly say, ‘But you haven’t asked me, and I haven’t said yes,’ her answer was, ‘Yes, soon, darling.’
‘Oh, you’re wonderful, wonderful.’ He was pressing her close to him now, muttering, ‘No coyness; no pretence; no, “You must see Papa”; none of the advice of the Young Ladies’ Journal.’
She pulled herself from him laughing now, saying, ‘Well, if you would like it that way, I could throw in a swoon; I’m very good at swoons. I mean, I’ve had a lot of practice watching others.’
His head went back and his laugh rang out. Then, again looking at her and his fingers tracing her features, he said, ‘I’ll be unable to get back quickly enough tomorrow to tell my grandfather; and then to run into your house, crying, “She’s going to marry me! You’re going to lose her. She’s going to marry me.”’
Her voice was sober now as she said, ‘Well, promise me one thing: you won’t come to the house first; you’ll give me the chance to tell them.’
‘As you wish, my dear. As you wish. Yes, of course, that’s only right. But…but what about tonight? Shall we tell…?’ He nodded his head back; and she thought for a moment before she said, ‘No; but only because I think it would be stealing their limelight; because, as Mother said, Jason has just opened his eyes and seen Rosie. I think they, too, came to a sort of understanding last night, but it hasn’t been made public yet. Let them have the first shot.’
‘Just as you say, darling. Just as you say. But at the same time I want to shout it from the hills. I…I think I’ll dash up to High Gully tomorrow—that’s our place in Scotland—there’s some pretty stiff mountains behind and I’ll yell it from there. You know, I never cared much for High Gully; it was too isolated, too lonely. But now, and for days ahead, all I’ll be able to think of is getting you up there to myself. Just you and I alone on the hills. In a way it’s like a desert island, for it’s a good half-hour’s trot to the next house. The stores are brought up once a month. Yes, that’s what I’ll do as soon as we are married, I’ll whisk you off.’
‘Is it big?’
‘Yes. Yes, it’s quite a large place.’
‘Oh well, then, we’ll turn it into an isolation hospital. I’ve always wanted to manage an isolation hospital.’
They were laughing again, clasped tight. Then looking towards the illuminated building, she said, ‘That’s the second time the band’s stopped. Good gracious! What’s on my card?’ She opened her Dorothy bag that had been lying on the seat beside her and when she looked at her card, she said, ‘The first one was yours, but that doesn’t matter, does it? And the last one was Jason’s. Well, that matters less. But we must go in.’
‘Let me hold you once more and kiss you once more.’ They were standing now, their lips tight, their bodies entwined. Then when, breathless, they drew apart, he gripped her hand and, like children, they ran across the quad towards the brilliantly lit hall, the light from it matching the glow from within them both, and which, in spite of circumstances, was never to die.
Steve had seen his last patient of the morning, and was about to go next door for his usual cup of coffee with Emily, when a letter was delivered to him.
‘A man came to the door, sir. He asked if it could be given to you at once.’
When he opened the envelope, his eyes went first to the address, and this caused his gaze to drop to the signature; and on the sight of it the anxiety that had been in him since he had been visited by that man was intensified.
The letter was brief.
Dear Sir,
Would you be kind enough to call on me at your earliest convenience? The matter is of great importance.
And was simply signed,
William Anderson Steerman.
He stood staring at it and repeating ‘Anderson Steerman’. And there was a pause between the two names and as he folded the letter up he said to himself again, ‘Anderson…Steerman.’
In the hall he said to the maid, ‘Will you slip next door and tell Mrs Montane that I have been called away? I’ll be back as soon as possible.’ Then, after donning his hat and coat, he hurried out.
He did not need to take a cab or be reminded of the location; he remembered the last time he had gone there twenty years ago. But, as on that day he went in anger, now the feeling was more one of trepidation.
Ten minutes later, when he entered the hall, it was as if he had left it on the previous day: everything looked the same, except for the man coming towards him. This man walked with a slight stoop and his hair was white.
‘Good morning, Doctor,’ he said politely. ‘I am Mr Steerman’s valet. Will you please step this way?’
Steve followed the man towards a door before which he did not hesitate but straight away opened it and announced, ‘Doctor Montane, sir.’
Although so many years had passed since they had last met, Steve recognised the figure sitting in the long chair. The hair was whiter, the face more gaunt, but the head was still erect and the shoulders straight.
‘Good morning. Will you kindly be seated?’
Steve took the chair that was being pointed out by the long, blue-veined hand. But he was hardly seated before the old man began, saying, ‘It is some years since we met, Doctor. On that occasion the matter had to do with an escapade of my son. On this occasion it is, I would say, much more serious, for it is to do with the result of that escapade. May I ask, sir, have you met a man called Dimarca?’
‘Yes. Yes, I have.’
‘Then I have no need to tell you why you are here, for the news that that man suggests is indeed of a most serious nature. You are aware, I am sure, that you are not the father of the child…or children born to your wife. The recorded dates of your marriage and their birth leave no doubt in the matter. May I ask, at this point, if they know anything of the circumstances?’
The answer came brief and harsh, ‘No.’
‘Then, from what I have to say, that is a pity, for that man informs me that my grandson and the young lady who is recognised as your daughter have become associated.’
Steve closed his eyes: Anderson Steerman. Anderson Steerman. His voice was a mutter now as he said, ‘The young man’s name is merely Anderson.’
‘He is known as Anderson.’
‘My son met him at university.’
‘Yes, yes, I am sure you had no inkling of his real identity, otherwise there would have been no need for this meeting. It was I who suggested that he, or rather the children as they were then, should be known simply as Anderson. At that time I did not know what steps your wife intended taking against my son: whether he might be brought to justice for a rape, which would have sullied our name, and that wasn’t to be borne. I was thinking of the children’s future and what my grandson would have to put up with when at school, and later perhaps at university, if he were to be known as the son of a man who had three children, but was keeping two mistresses and had raped the second because she had repulsed him. I was looking ahead for them. As for myself, I was strong enough to weather the disgrace for what time I had left, so I imagined at that period, for I was suffering an illness which righted itself. But I never expected to live and have to deal with this present situation. You understand what I mean, sir?’
It was a bark that came from Steve now. ‘Of course I understand, sir, and the ruin of the lives of two young people, who unfortunately have grown to care for each other. Understand what you mean!’ He was now on his feet glaring down at the man. ‘As I see it, it is damnable that these two young people will have to suffer, perhaps all their lives, for the licentious swine of a man whom you bred, and fostered by paying for his kept woman and her brood, while he was breeding another in your household, besides looking further afield to satisfy his lust. The blame, I see, sir, lies as much with you as with your dirty offspring. And now my son has to be told that he is of your line, which stinks in more ways than one; for what have you done, sir, but spend your life making money: owning companies that run factories where a living wage would hardly feed a dog? I spend part of my life, sir, attending people who can’t afford to pay for a doctor, people who spend their lives in your factories and sweatshops owned by your companies. I have followed your career, sir, the career, I now understand, you hope to push your grandson into. And I say push, for the young man whom I know as Robert Anderson has told me how he hates the idea of going into business. What he desperately wants is another year at university. But this grandfather of his doesn’t see it like that. He wants to swallow him up. You may be an old man, sir, and perhaps I shouldn’t be talking to you like this, but your age is only in your features, for your mind is still on money. The newspapers speak of your agility in that way. Well, may it do you some good, sir. May it do you some good, for I’ll tell you this now: you’ll never hold the young man I know as Robert Anderson. He’ll never become my son-in-law as I had hoped he would, but from what I’ve judged of his character, he’ll never be another you or, please God, his father. And…’ The door was opened at this moment and a voice said quietly, ‘Did you ring, sir?’
‘No, Gibbons, I didn’t ring’—there was a slight tremor in the voice—‘but I think the doctor is ready to go.’
Steve did not immediately move: in a lower voice he said, ‘One last word, sir. It has just dawned on me that my son has already met his father and he described him as a poor, pathetic-looking, weird creature, partly paralysed. Well, all I can hope, sir, is that your son lives for many, many years, aware of his condition before he roasts in hell.’ And on this he swung about, almost knocking Gibbons off his feet as he pushed past him, and then, grabbing up his hat and coat from a hall chair, he pulled open the door, not even pausing to close it behind him.
He was seething with such fury as he had never imagined himself being capable of: he had the desire to smash something, but nothing seemed big enough to alleviate the agony he was feeling for his family: his happy family was to be rent open within the next few hours and the results would be unbearable to watch. He saw Emily’s guilt being dragged into the light of day, the guilt he knew she had never been able to throw off; he felt his son’s disdain when he recalled the picture of his real father; but, above all, there was his darling Janice and that fine young fellow. Yes, a fine young fellow, for whatever he had sprung from he was as yet untainted. He was sure of that. But now…Oh God! He came to a dead stop in the street, put his hand out and gripped the lamp-post that was to his side. The feeling of its cold iron was such that he wanted to put his brow against it—he felt he was in a fever.
Slowly now he began to walk back towards his home; and his step actually faltered as he reached the door: for the first time in his life he was reluctant to enter his home. Always, wherever he had been, he had been eager to return; and should she not be in the house to greet him, but in the shop, he would become irritated until she did put in an appearance, when he might greet her with, ‘You spend your whole life in that damn head factory,’ and she would reply to the effect, ‘Well, if you would stop having two practices just to prove you’re right, I might be at home more often.’
