Mary Ann Shaughnessy - The Devil And Marianne Part 4

The admission was sad, and she said, comfortingly, "Well, it doesn't matter. Are you going to our farm?"

He nodded. "I suppose I'm going to see your father."

"Oh, are you?" Her smile spread into a great welcoming beam. "Oh, I'll take you."

"Thanks."

Tomorrow was again forgotten. Hopping and jumping over the puddles and on and off the gra.s.s verge,

she led the way back to the farm, chattering to her new, sober-looking acquaintance all the while. But when, within a short distance of the yard, she found he wasn't following her, she stopped and turned to see him standing staring towards the farmhouse, whereupon she offered proudly: "That's our house."

He looked at her, then asked slowly, "Doesn't. . . doesn't Mr. Lord live here?"

"No, not yet. His house isn't ready, but it soon will be. Look, there-it is, on the hill . . . look!"

He followed her finger, and then said briefly, "Show me where I'll find your father."

"Come on then; he'll be here somewhere."

She went dashing off ahead now, crying loudly, "Da! Da! . . . Oh, Mr. Polinski ! " She pulled up as a short, dark man, in his late thirties, came from behind a rick, carrying a cart shaft on his shoulder. "Where's me da? Do you know?"

"In office-" he nodded towards the old dairy that the late manager had converted into an office-"wit old man."

Mr. Polinski's "old man" meant Mr. Lord. She hadn't known he was here again. He must have come by when she was in Mrs. Polinski's house. She turned round now and waited for the young man to come up.

"He's in his office," she said. "And Mr. Lord's there an' all, so I can't go in."

She saw the young man stop in his stride, and then he did a funny thing. He turned completely round towards the entrance to the farmyard, as if he was going back that way, and she said hastily, pointing, "The office is over there . . . that door."

Slowly he turned again, and then, without saying "Ta" or "Thanks", he went across the yard, and she stood watching him, stanjjJJQg with her finger-nail between her teeth, in sudden troubled perplexity. She knew she hadn't seen him before, and yet she felt she had. Perhaps she had seen him in Jarrow somewhere, or perhaps in church. And this feeling of recognition seemed to be connected with his walk, with his back?

Out of a million backs she could have picked her da's or her ma's, and somehow she knew she could have picked this young man's, too. It was funny. She bit on her finger as if trying to tear off the nail.

Before the young man reached the office the door opened and Mr. Lord came out, followed by Mike, and they both looked enquiringly at the young man, who had now come to a stop a few yards away from them.

Mary Ann now moved cautiously forward, and as she came up to them her da was saying, "Oh, yes, of course; you're Brown, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir." The young man was looking directly at her father, and Mary Ann's chest swelled with pride ... he had called her da, "Sir."

"It's the young fellow from the Agricultural College, sir." Mike had turned to Mr. Lord, and when Mr. Lord did not answer, he added, "Remember? I told you he had written."

Mr. Lord's eyes, narrowed behind his beetling brows, were fixed on the visitor. And now the young man was returning his stare, hard, almost it seemed to Mary Ann with dislike, like she looked at Sarah Flannagan.

"Why do you particularly want to get experience here? It's only a small farm." Mr. Lord's mouth was at its grimmest.

"I don't." The words were shot out, and Mr. Brown bit his lip as if regretting them; then added, with slightly lowered head, "I mean, I don't mind, I would rather start on a small farm."

Mary Ann looked from one to the other, and she saw that the dislike was in Mr. Lord's eyes now, and she thought, Aw! he won't take him on; not when he looks like that he won't. Aw! And she felt a great sense of disappointment.

She saw her da give a hitch to his trousers, and his chin go up as he turned to Mr. Lord and said, "We'll have to have an extra hand, anyway, sir. What about a trial, we can't go far wrong in that?" He spoke as if the young man wasn't present. And Mr. Lord, moving his head restlessly, replied in much the same way, "I suppose it's up to you. But I'm warning you, we're carrying no dead-weight, Agricultural College or not, the milk comes out the same way; and they cannot alter the seasons."

Mr. Lord now walked away, but he had not gone far when he turned and called Mike to him. And when Mike, with a glance at the young fellow, went towards him, he said, "You've got a free hand as you know, but I'm not sure whether it would be wise to take him on; he looks all head and no hands, and you don't want that kind. It's labour you want."

For Mike's part, he had instinctively taken to the young fellow, but he was wise not to make this too evident. Moreover, he did not despise men with headpieces on a farm, for he was finding his self-imposed study at night more tiring than the work of the day. And so, hitching at his belt again, he sighed and said, "You're right there, sir, only too true. But what do you say if I give him a trial-that is, if it's all the same to you?"

Mr. Lord looked past Mike's head to the young man again, and his eyes stayed on him for a moment before he said, "Well, don't start complaining to me about him, that's all." And on this he walked away.

Mike stood for a moment watching his master before turning and going back to the boy, and immediately he saw that the young fellow's back was up, and his sympathy went out to him, for he knew only too well how the old man could draw out a temper. The antagonism between the two had been the swiftest thing he had ever seen, except perhaps his own feelings for Ratcliffe, his late boss.

"Well, now-" he confronted the boy-"we'll have to talk, I suppose; but first of all, what about a cup of tea? Come on over to the house."

"Da." All this time Mary Ann had stood in the background, keeping her tongue quiet, but now she realised that her father had clearly forgotten about her grannie, for he was walking away towards the htmse, talking as he went. "Where are you living?" he was asking the young man.

'afet present, in Newcastle. I have a room there."

"Da."

"Yes? Come on." Mike held out his hand, but went on, "You're not from these parts then?"

"No, sir." The young man did not seem of a communicative nature, and Mike said, "Well, you'll have to come nearer than Newcastle. Newcastle's a long way when the dawn rises early. Yes, we'll have to see about that."

"Da!" She tugged at his hand. He must be daft, she told herself, if he was going to take a stranger into their house, and her grannie there, for she would soon give him a picture of their life, and especially her da's, which would be awful, to say the very least. "Da!" she tugged again and whispered urgently, "Da! me grannie."

"Oh!" Mike stopped abruptly and looked down on her, and his colour rising just the slightest he said, "Yes, your grannie."

5 But as he turned to his companion with a laughing apology on his lips, the need for it was taken away, for there, going along the road past the farm entrance were Lizzie and her mother, and Lizzie, looking in his direction, called, "Mary Ann!"

"Oh! bust."

"Go on." Her da was speaking under his breath, and reluctantly, with slow measured steps, she went towards the gate.

"Your grannie's just going ... are you coming to the bus with us?"

The true and natural retort would have been "No!" but something in Lizzie's tone and the way she held

out her hand asked for obedience, and so, taking her mother's hand, she walked reluctantly back along

the road, trying to shut her ears to her grandmother's vicious chatter.

"Nodiing ever stays put-get that into your head-we're here today and gone tomorrow, and that applies to worldly goods. And jobs an' all, a lot can happen in a six months' trial, so don't bank your hopes on a golden future. You won't take to it kindly when you find yourself on the dung heap again."

Mary Ann felt her mother's fingers suddenly stiffen, and her voice came harsh when she demanded, "Who told you he was on a six months' trial?"

"Ah, I have me little birds."

Mary Ann saw them, hordes of them, fighting, screeching little birds, and she willed them to swoop down on her grannie and peck her eyes out. She even saw her grannie being borne to the ground by them, and with deep satisfaction she gazed down on her, pecked to death by her little birds.

Oh ! her grannie. She wished she was dead, she did. Eeh ! ... well, she did.

"Well, you can tell your little birds that the six months' trial is only a figure of speech, he's set for life."

"Huh ! " It was a small laugh that spoke volumes. "I'm glad you think so. But you were always one to

fool yourself. You mark my words, if it isn't one thing it will be another."

"You hope it will be like that." Lizzie's voice was very low and came tightly from between her teeth.

"I've no neeS to hope. If I didn't know the man it'd be

different. The first time you let him off the lead it'll be hi-ho for the pubs and 'Get the cans on John Michael'."

Mary Ann's fingers were hurting, so tightly crushed were they in her mother's hand. There was silence now, but as they neared the main road the sound of the approaching bus came to them, and Mrs. McMullen exclaimed in exasperation, "It's early, there's another five minutes yet."

Lizzie said nothing, not even when the bus stopped and she a.s.sisted her mother on to it.

From the platform, Mrs. McMullen turned, and now in a pathetic tone, that immediately caught the sympathy of the listeners in the bus, she said, "That's it, go and leave me in a. huff. When are you coming down to see me?"

"I don't know."

"Well!"

The bus moved off, and Lizzie turned quickly away from the sight of her mother's pained countenance. But once in the shelter of the lane she stopped, and stood biting hard on her lip.

When Mary Ann edged close to her she put her arms about her and pressed her head into her waist for a moment, then easing her away again, she stooped and kissed her and looking deep into her eyes she spoke, not of her mother, or of what she haiiasaid, but to Mary Ann's surprise, she used the same words as Mr. Lord had done. "There won't be much time to talk tomorrow, Mary Ann," she said. "Now promise me you'll be a good girl at this school, and you'll learn and make us proud of you."

The weight of the world was on her again, and more heavily now.

"Promise ... so much depends on you, Mary Ann."

Mary Ann stared up at her mother, and the look of anxiety she saw deep in Lizzie's eyes forced her to smile wistfully and promise, "All right, Ma, I will."

Lizzie kissed her again, and Mary Ann clung to her in an effort to stop the tears from spurting, and when, blinking rapidly, she looked up at her mother, Lizzie laughed and said, "That bus saved you, it was your turn next. You would have learned of all the things you aren't going to be in that school."

Mary Ann gave a sniffling, cackling, laugh, and Lizzie, catching hold of her hand again, cried, "Come on; let's go home."

So together, like two girls released from a tyrant, they sped down the road, laughing and shouting to each other as they leapt over the puddles.

It was over an extra wide puddle that it happened. Lizzie, with a lift of her arm, was a.s.sisting Mary Ann in a flying leap when she fell. Having been pulled down beside her mother, Mary Ann lay laughing into her hands for a moment. This was mainly to save herself from crying, for the stones had grazed both her legs and the palms of her hands. But she was brought quickly out of her simulated laughter by the sound of a groan from her mother. Lizzie was sitting on the road holding on to her ankle with both hands; her lips were apart, and her teeth were tightly pressed together.

"What's the matter, Ma? Oh! Ma."

"I-I've hurt my ankle. Help me up."

Mary Ann, with all her small strength, helped her mother on to her good foot; then watched the colour drain from her face. Terrified, she helped her to hop to the gra.s.s verge, and when Lizzie dropped down on to it and gasped, "Go-go and get your da," she replied in a daze, "Me da?"

"Yes."

"Oh ! " After one last look at her mother Mary Ann bounded away, calling, "Da ! Da !"

She had reached the farmyard when she pulled herself up, and turning, made for the house. Her da would be in the house with the new man. But Mike wasn't in the house. Dashing back into the yard again she ran full tilt into Len, and to her garbled question of, "Where's me da?" he said, "In the new barn. But mind, the old boy's there. What's up with you?"

She was gone before he had finished, and when, still yelling, she rounded the outbuildings and came to the front of the new barn, she was confronted by three pairs of eyes and Mr. Lord's voice.

"Stop that noise this moment!"

For once, she took no notice whatever of him, or his orders, but flew to Mike, crying, "Oh, Da! Da!" The necessity to breathe checked her words, and Mike put in sharply, "Behave yourself ! "

"It's me ma . . . she's hurt herself . . . she's lying on the road and she's white!"

After just one second's pause while he stared down at her, Mike was away, and he was out of the gate before her flying legs had carried her half-way across the yard. When the young man caught up with her he called, "What is it?"

She was so out of puff that she didn't even try to answer. They were on die road now, and in the distance she saw her da raising her ma up with his one good arm. The young man sprinted ahead, and when, panting loudly, she reached the group, he was linking his hand to Mike's to make a seat for her mother.

Lizzie's face was drawn, and she was near tears, and when she exclaimed bitterly, "For this to happen!" Mary Ann felt, somehow, that she wasn't referring to the pain she was in but the accident's bearing on the morrow.

Walking now behind the two men, the meaning of what her mother's accident meant to her filled her with guilty-consciencestreaked joy: Thejfwouldn't be able to send her the morrow. They couldn't if her ma couldn't walk, could diey?

fffcm its beginning, it had undoubtedly been a day during which the Devil had certainly been master. But once more he had been vanquished; her secret prayers had been answered. What was his power to compare with that of the Holy Family? Hadn't they even brought her grannie here to bring things about? Likely, her grannie had been in the middle of her washing, or some such, and they had said, "Get your things on and go and see Lizzie," because her mother would never have gone up the road if it hadn't been to see her grannie to the bus, would she?

Realising the advantage of possessing such allies as the Holy Family had unconsciously brought to Mary Ann's face an expression which was not in keeping with the events of the moment, and she was not aware that the relief she was feeling had slipped through, until her eyes met Mr. Lord's, where he stood by the gate.

"* * 54 The joy was wiped from her face; she even stopped dead for a moment, brought to a halt, it would seem, by the knowledge in the eyes regarding her. Then as she stared at him an odd thing happened, for out of his head sprouted two horns, and between his thin legs came flicking a tail, a forked tail. Her joy sank; she could feel it draining from her chest, right through her stomach and down her legs. Dread reality was on her again. It was as Father Owen said, the Devil had many guises. And now he had gone into . . . The Lord, and she knew that there was going to be a fight on between him and her amalgamated company of the Holy Family, and for the life of her at this moment she didn't know which side to back, And now it was her da saying, "There won't be any time in the morning to talk." He was sitting on her bed and his voice was very low. He looked tired, weary.

"If you're not happy there, you'll tell me, won't you? You'll write? Very likely they'll read your letters. I think they dobut if you're not happy get a letter to me somehow. . . . Look . . . look at me." He brought her face to his again. "You really want to go to this school? Tell me the truth now."

No power of hers brought her head to a sharp nod, nor her voice to say, "Yes, Da"; it was the combined voices of her ma and Mr. Lord inside which did it. She could still hear Mr. Lord saying airily to her da, "She'll be all right. She'll be in the care of the guard to London, and a nun will meet the train. I've arranged everything. This is a very unfortunate happening. I wojj^d take her myself, but I hate trains and-" his voice had dropped to a note of regret-"and, of course, it's a pity you can't be spared." Then on again it had gone, lightly, airily, "Oh, she'll be all right. Anyway, she must be there for the beginning of term." And then her mother, holding her hand tightly until the bones hurt, and saying, "Mr. Lord has made all arrangements. And, darling, if your da should ask you if you still want to go, you'll say yes, won,'t you? You'll say yes."

She had said it.

Mike stared at her; then shook his head in a bewildered fashion. "Then why aren't you more happy about it?"