The Cultured Handmaiden, page 22
He was looking at her now and was actually smiling broadly as he said, ‘There’s more than even two sides to you, Jinny, I think. You should be in the diplomatic service. I can understand that it wasn’t only your backchat that made you a necessity to Father.’
‘Your father would never be so stupid as to pay anyone for backchat. He just had to go down to the floor to get plenty of that. I was his secretary, and an efficient one.’
‘Huh! You should add “although I say it myself.”’
‘I have no need to; I know my own value, what there is of it.’
‘Well, as a secretary, you’re rotting away here, aren’t you?’
She sighed now as she said, ‘It looks like it. But things never stay still for long. Who knows but I’ll be back in harness some day soon.’
The smile left his face. ‘Don’t say that,’ he said flatly; ‘you’re needed here, not only by him.’ And he held her gaze for a moment before turning abruptly and marching from the room.
She stared for some time towards the door before rising and going to the window; and there she stood looking out on to the side garden where the roses were blooming in profusion. Then like a shot ringing down from the mountain top, there passed through her head the words, ‘No! No! Not again.’
If she was to be a handmaiden she would be paid for it as she was in this house. But then she’d be handmaiden again to no man, unless…unless? What was she thinking about? Now don’t let her start kidding herself; there would be no wedding bells connected with John Henderson, for in conversations they’d had over the past months he had firmly expressed his antipathy to marriage. He had made no bones about it, which was why she had thought he still had his flat and was seeing his girlfriend occasionally.
He had said she was needed by more than one. Well, his need was going to bring him cold comfort for she had played ministering angel for the last time. By God! yes, she had.
She too now marched from the room, and as if she were closing the door on an opponent she banged it behind her.
Three
It was around two o’clock in the morning when the intercom bell dragged her from deep sleep. And groping, she put her hand out and said, ‘Yes?’
‘Jinny.’
‘Yes?’ She hitched herself up in the bed, then endeavoured to rub the sleep from her eyes.
‘I’m…I’m sorry to disturb you, I just wanted a word. Don’t bother getting up. I’m…I’m just…well, het up a bit. It’s because of the morrow. You see, I’ve been thinking of what our John said, and I wonder if I’m doing right. Yet I’ve got to see him. I’ve got an awful feeling on me that if I don’t see him soon I won’t see him at all. Oh, I’m sorry if I woke you, Jinny.’
She had thrown the bedclothes back and was sitting on the side of the bed now and she bent over and called into the phone, ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘Oh no, I don’t want you…’ She put the receiver down, then pressed her eyeballs with her fingers and thumbs, and let out a long slow breath before getting up and taking her dressing gown from the back of the chair.
When she opened his door she saw his head raised from the pillow, and he said in a whisper, ‘I…I didn’t want to disturb you. You shouldn’t have come. I just wanted a word.’
‘It’s all right. It’s all right.’ She pulled a chair towards the bed and, reaching out, she took his hand, and as she did so he muttered, ‘Oh, Jinny. Jinny. And there’s another thing: I want to say I’m sorry for yesterday. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had walked out; but God, I don’t know what I would have done without you.’
‘Now don’t try to soft soap me, not at this hour in the morning. I’m liable to melt and succumb to your advances.’
‘Oh, Jinny.’ There was a wavering laugh in his voice; and as he bit on his lip, whether to stem his laughter or tears she didn’t know, she added, ‘And as Nell would say, that’ll get you into the Gazette.’
‘The Gazette?’
It was a question and she said, ‘Yes, you know the Gazette, the Shields Daily Gazette.’
‘Oh aye, the newspaper. I must be going dim…No, no, I’m not. You know that’s something, Jinny’—he turned his head towards her now—‘the times I’ve wished it was me head that had got it, and Glen his body, because I’ve lived most of my life but his was only beginning, and if he had his mind it wouldn’t have mattered so much about his body, not now he’s lost Yvonne.’
‘Well, it didn’t turn out like that, and so you have to accept things as they are. But I must say this, I feel as John does, if you were to make an effort…’
‘No, lass, no. What’s the point? Don’t start on that tack again, not the night, or the morning, whatever time it is. By!’—he smiled at her now—You look bonny in this light.’
‘Thank you very much.’ She had assumed a hurt tone. ‘That means to say that the pink shade is very kind to me. What a pity it’s got to be daylight.’
‘Eeh, by! Your tongue. I’ve never known another like it. Oh yes, I have.’ He moved his head slowly. ‘Alicia could come back like lightning an’ all, but in a different way. She wasn’t a Geordie, you see.’
‘I’m not a Geordie either.’
‘Oh yes, you are.’
‘Oh no, I’m not. I don’t talk the twang; I speak as I write, plain English.’
‘Eeh my! Proud of it, aren’t you? Well, don’t let any Geordie hear you bragging like that else your number’ll be up.’
A silence ensued until he said, ‘I’m all right now, lass. I think I might get off.’
‘Well, go on then.’
‘You go on back to bed. And thanks.’
‘I’ll stay here for a while. I can put my feet up on this other chair. And here’s a rug. I’ll stay until you do go off, so be quick about it.’
As she settled herself he turned his face towards her, saying softly now, ‘I’ve wondered lately if you get any satisfaction out of playing the ministering angel, you certainly can’t get any pleasure.’
She did not look at him, but pulled the rug up under her chin as she said, ‘I’m no ministering angel; I’m what you call a cultured handmaiden.’
‘A what?’
‘You heard, a cultured handmaiden.’
‘Where did you get that from? Who called you that?’
‘Oh, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you some day, or some night when you can’t get to sleep. But not tonight. Go on, I’m tired. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Jinny. And…God bless you.’ The words were faint but audible to her.
She closed her eyes thinking of the form in which God’s blessing fell on cultured handmaidens. Down the ages they had been given different names: dutiful daughters, mother’s help, lady companions, all cultured handmaidens.
She woke with a crick in her neck and Willie bending over her, saying, ‘Here, drink this.’
Slowly she pulled herself up in the chair and, blinking, she took the cup from him; and she watched him turn and look towards the bed where Bob was still sleeping soundly. And when he put his head down to her and said, ‘You’re a fool, you know; he’ll keep you at this,’ she asked, ‘What time is it?’
‘Just seven o’clock. Get yourself up and go to bed for a few hours. And I’m telling you’—his voice was lower still—‘he’ll play on you. I’ve had experience. Even the best of them, like him, they suck you dry. You haven’t got to let it happen. Come on, get yourself up.’
His large thick hands came out now and hoisted her to her feet as she muttered, ‘Look! You’ll spill the tea.’
‘Better if you don’t drink it. Go on. Get some kip.’
She liked Willie. He was a practical man, down to earth, and he was kind and attentive to his patient, yet although she was aware that he was talking sense she knew that if Bob wanted her company in the middle of the night she’d be hard put not to answer his call.
She went to bed and slept till nine o’clock. Then after having a bath she picked up the morning routine. It was broken about eleven o’clock by a phone call from Mrs Florence Brook, and as usual, when it was Jinny’s voice which came over to her, Florence’s reply was a very telling ‘Oh,’ which could be interpreted as, ‘You’re still there then?’
‘How’s Father?’
‘He is about the same.’
‘I would like to speak to John.’
‘I’m afraid he’s in…at the hospital. He’s bringing Glen home today.’
‘What!’
‘I said he was bringing Glen home.’
‘And who’s idea was that?’
‘Apparently your father’s. He wants to see him.’
‘My God! Do you know what our Glen is like now?’
‘No, I’m afraid I don’t.’
‘John said he would never allow him to come back.’
There was a pause before Jinny replied, ‘Your father is still head of the house.’
‘I am well aware of that, madam!…miss.’
‘I was only meaning to imply…’
‘I know what you were meaning to imply. Has he got the male nurse still there?’
‘Yes, Willie is still here.’
‘Then may I ask what your duties are?’
‘My duties, Mrs Brook, are exactly what yours would be if you were running this household.’
There was a telling silence on the phone now; then Florence’s voice came, the words stubbing over the wires, ‘You’ve taken too much on yourself. Do you know that? You were a secretary, and there’s no secretarial work to be done now. As for running the house, Dorry can see to that. She and Cissie have done so for years…And you’re forgetting that Lucy’s there; she’s quite capable of running the house.’
‘I don’t think your mother would have agreed with you.’
‘My…’
At this point the phone went dead, and Jinny, putting it back on its rest, stood for a moment with her head bent and her teeth nipping at her lower lip. It was certainly a good job that Mr Henderson had no room for his son-in-law in any capacity or her own life here would have been made impossible. As for Lucy being able to run the house, Lucy was hardly ever in it, but when she was she made a point of spending most of the time with her father. It was a diplomatic cover, for then he rarely asked questions about what she did with the rest of her time.
A short while later, standing by Bob’s bed, she said, ‘Mrs Brook phoned.’
‘Aye. And what had she to say?’
‘She wanted to know how you were and to speak to John.’
‘And you told her where John was?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what he was doing?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what was her reaction?’
‘Not favourable.’
‘Well, that’s nothing new. I’ve never known our Florrie to be in favour of anything except what pleased herself. She was the odd man out to me, always was, our Florrie. I don’t know who she took after. Certainly not Alicia. And I can’t see anything of her in me…Can you?’
She paused a moment before nodding her head and saying, ‘A little; if she can’t get her own way she plays up.’
‘Well, I’ll be damned. You know, at times you’re no comfort at all. Anyway, did she play up this morning?’
‘A little.’
‘What about?’
‘She thought my presence here was unnecessary.’
‘Begod! she did. And of course, you took that meekly.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘No, I thought you wouldn’t. I should like to have heard you…What time is it now?’ He turned his head towards the clock.
‘Gone twelve.’
‘They should be here soon.’
‘Yes, they should.’
‘Jinny.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m all het up inside.’
‘Well, all I can say is you asked for it.’ But as she spoke she lifted his hand and squeezed it gently as she went on, ‘Just remember you’re not going to see the old Glen, so you’ll have to brace yourself.’
‘Aye. Aye, but I’m always havin’ to brace meself. Just to go on breathing I’m havin’ to brace meself.’
She could find no words with which to answer him for a moment; then she said, ‘We all seem to be looking on the black side. Let’s wait until we see him. And then we might be agreeably surprised, eh?’
‘The answer to that, lass, is we can’t do anything else. But as for being agreeably surprised…Oh dear! Oh dear!’ He moved his head slowly on the pillow, and she let his hand drop and went out of the room.
It was a quarter to one when John and Glen arrived. When Jinny looked at the man standing just inside the front door she wanted to put her hand over her mouth and press an agonised sound back into her being because this was Glen, his body, his face, everything about him was Glen Henderson, everything, that is, except the eyes. And it was the eyes that made the difference to the man. They were bright, yet vacant; and their glance was darting here and there as if in search of something while his head remained still. And when they came to rest on her, he opened his mouth and spoke. And what he said was, ‘I’ll not sit again; I didn’t pass.’
‘Do you remember Jinny?’ John spoke quietly.
‘Yes; of course I remember Jinny. What’s the matter with you? Of course I remember Jinny.’ There was laughter in the tone. ‘I’m hungry. I want my tea…What about the bike?’
‘We’ll see about that later.’
‘But he’s had it for about a week now. Anyway, I should have a new one.’ His eyes stopped flickering; and his gaze coming to rest steadily now on Jinny, and his tone changing, he said quietly, ‘Could I have a drink, nurse?’
She swallowed deeply before saying, ‘Yes, yes, of course. Come along.’ And she put out her hand and touched his arm, and as she guided him into the drawing room she said, ‘What would you like, a cold drink or tea?’
‘Orange squash.’
She turned and looked at John now, and he, beckoning to Dorry who was standing a little way from them, repeated, ‘Orange squash.’
In the drawing room the man now stood looking about him. His eyelids blinked and at one point they screwed up so tightly that there seemed to be nothing left but the sockets, and when he opened them again he turned his head slowly as if he were trying to recall something. Quietly he sat down on the couch, his hands resting on his knees, very like a young boy who was visiting and on his best behaviour.
When Dorry brought him a glass of orange juice, she bent towards him and said, ‘Hello, Mr Glen.’
‘Hello,’ he replied politely.
‘You remember Dorry?’ John’s voice was quiet and persuasive. But his brother turned on him almost angrily, saying, ‘Of course, I remember Dorry. What d’you keep on for?’ Then looking at Jinny, he said, ‘And Nurse Jinny. And Nurse Pratt. And Piggy Eyes.’
‘Piggy Eyes?’
John bent his head towards him, and Glen nodded at him, saying, ‘She’s on duty at night. We call her Piggy Eyes because she screws up her face when she looks at us.’ He now smiled widely and spread his gaze from one to the other. And Jinny again wanted to press the pain down but this time to stop the moan that could have preceded a bout of weeping.
John was right. This boy…this man should never have been brought home. If he’d had a mother to see him, then that might have been different. But he had only a father lying upstairs who was expecting to see his son, different but not so different. Oh no, not this different. Well, there was one thing sure, this house would never be the same again. Here was a handful, and it was going to take, not only John’s and Willie’s whole time, but also her own in a way, for already he had selected her as a nurse.
It was fifteen minutes later when they took him upstairs. John went in first, his hand behind him drawing Glen forward, and she followed. She had not wanted to be present at this meeting, but Glen had insisted, saying, ‘Nurse always comes with me.’
Willie was standing by the head of the bed, and he moved aside, and Bob looked on his elder son. And his elder son looked on him. And neither of them spoke. It was John whose voice came out as a croak, saying, ‘We had a good journey, Father. Glen…Glen enjoyed it.’
‘You got a cold?’
Jinny was gripping the front of her dress as she looked at Bob and waited for the answer to his son’s question. The pain seemed to be rising like sweat from his face. It was red. His lips were tight together, while his eyes were wide. The question gave no clue to whether Glen recognised the man lying there as his father, and it was John again who spoke to him, saying, ‘Your…your father hasn’t been well.’
Now Glen did turn a mildly enquiring look on John. It was as if the word had penetrated through some thick mist in his mind. But he didn’t repeat it or ask for an explanation, he just turned his gaze once more on Bob. Then for the second time since coming into the house he said, ‘I’m hungry.’
‘In that case we shall have to find you something to eat, won’t we?’ With practised ease Willie had taken the situation in hand; and coming to Glen’s side, he said, ‘Come on downstairs and tell me what you like best. Come on.’
Glen turned immediately from the bed, saying, ‘Not fish and chips. And not sausages; I like meat.’
‘Steak or roast meat?’
‘Oh either.’ He laughed now, and the sound was more strange because it was a man’s laugh; the only thing that was recognisable about him to his father and his brother was his laugh.
