Part 17 (2/2)

Mary Ann had no time to think, no time to wonder what she was going to say. As if she had been dropped from the wind she found herself at the back door of the house, and it would seem that Ben had been standing behind the door waiting for her knock, for immediately he opened it and looked down on her. His face was the same as ever, grim as the grave, yet now, it seemed to Mary Ann as if it was older. How that had come about she didn't know, for to her mind Ben could get no older, he was as old as old. Without a word she stepped into the kitchen. She hadn't been in the house since the furniture came in, and now she scarcely recognised it. It was like one of them kitchens in a magazine, all colour and light, and the woman in her said that such a kitchen as this would be lost on such a man as old Ben. Now if her ma had it. ...

Ben, too, like her mother, was looking at her clothes. He pushed her hat to one side, in the opposite direction to that which Lizzie had. placed it; he pulled her coat straight; and he, like Lizzie, looked at her hands. Then he spoke. ”Come along,” he said.

Mary Ann came along through the hall, splendid with its antique furniture. There were no big bits from the other house, only little bits, she noticed, tables with curved legs, chests against the walls, widi bra.s.s standing on them. Then up the stairs, deep and soft to her feet, the colour startling to her eyes, cherry red, and this against startling white walls, with bits of gold here and ” there.

Such was the change in the house that the furniture and decorations had made that for a moment or two her mind forgot why she was here. Then they were on the landing, big, too, as big as the kitchen and again all white and yellow and cherry. Then a pause before a door, and Ben's wrinkled face coming close to hers, his breath hot on her cheek as he muttered, ”Mind you be careful. Don't upset him.”

She did not answer but gave the slightest shake of.her head. Then Ben tapped on the door and they were in the room.

The first thing Mary Ann saw was not Mr. Lord but a nurse, a great big nurse, nearly as big as her da, and when she smiled, her smile was big, too, cheerily big, and when she spoke her voice matched everything about her.

”Ah! there you are,” she said. ”Now you mustn't stay long, ten minutes, that's a good girl. Go on.”

Before Mary Ann moved towards the bed, over the foot of which she had not yet raised her eyes, she looked back at Ben. But Ben was looking at the nurse and it was evident to Mary Ann that he disliked her as much as he had, at one time, disliked herself. It wasn't until the door closed on them both that she looked over the bottom of the high bed to the propped-up figure, and such was her relief that she nearly blurted out her thoughts: Eeh! he didn't look much different, only thinner, perhaps, and whiter. But that, likely was his nights.h.i.+rt that was b.u.t.toned up to his chin. The look in his eyes was as she remembered it, penetrating and hard. But she didn't mind this for he was seeing her; he was not pretending that she wasn't there. Slowly she walked round the bed and to the head, and there they were, close together again, his hand only a few inches from hers.

His eyes had never left her face, and although she remembered that she hadn't to talk, the silence between them was really unbearable and she said, very softly, ”h.e.l.lo.”

Mr. Lord did not speak, but lifting his hand slowly from the coverlet, he pointed to a chair, and Mary Ann, realizing that if she sat in it she would be unable to see him, gently and with some effort, lifted it round. Then, getting on to it, she sat up straight. But even so he seemed miles away.

”Sit here.”

Mary Ann stared in surprise. ”On the bed?”

He did not reply, but pointed to the chair, indicating that she could stand on it to reach the bed. This she did and when she let herself down very gently, near his legs and with her face now almost on a level with his, only with an effort did she stop herself from laughing and saying, ”Eeh! what if Ben comes in.”

”How are you?” His voice was very low and thin, not a bit like she remembered it.

To this polite enquiry she blinked her eyes. That's what she should have asked him.

”I'm all right, thank you. How are you?”

”I'm all right, too.”

He didn't look it, not now, for though he didn't look as bad as she had expected him to look, close to, like this, he looked awful. The silence fell heavily between them again, and she became a little embarra.s.sed under his stare and sought in her mind for a topic of conversation which they both could share. Then a brainwave, as she put it, made her remember the nurse, and she asked, but very quietly, ”Is she nice?” ”Nice? Who?” His brow puckered. ”The nurse.”

It was evident immediately that she had said the wrong thing -the nurse mustn't be nice-for she felt his legs jerk to one side and his head moved impatiently on the pillow. Then he said, ”I didn't send for you to talk about the nurse.” ”No? Oh.”

”No. I want an explanation.” ”An explanation?”

”You Ijeard what I said.” He took a few short breaths. ”Are you sorry for your escapade?”

Mary Ann's head drooped and she started to pluck at the bed cover with her fingers, pulling at the threads of a handwoven design. ”Yes, I'm very sorry-very.” ”You didn't like the school?”

Her head was still lowered as she answered, ”It wasn't that, I did like the school except Sister Catherine and a girl there, but ” She stopped. She'd better not tell him about her da and Mrs. Polinski, that would make him mad, so she finished, ”I missed everybody. I wanted to be home.” ”That wasn't the only reason, was it?” She raised her eyes to his and was forced to say, ”No.” He did not press her any further, but moved again with some impatience, then said, ”They'll push you out in a few minutes. I want to ask you something. And mind-” he stopped again and took some breaths-”I want a truthful answer.”

She looked up and watched him strain his neck out of his nights.h.i.+rt, then her eyes dropped to his hands, for very much as her own had done, his were plucking at the bed cover. ”That boy ” Therc was a pause, and he started again, his voice rasping, ”That boy on the farm, do you like him?”

Her face must have shown her surprise, for he demanded, in a voice that was much stronger, ”Well?”

”You mean Tony?” She waited; then went on, ”Yes, I like

Tony very much.” ”Why?” ”Cos he's nice.” ”Do you like Mr. Jones?” ”No.” ”Why?” ”Cos I think he's silly, he tries to make rows. He tells me da about this one and that one.”

”And Len?”

”Len's all right.”

”Just all right?”

”Well.” Mary Ann being unable to explain Len's dimness shook her head. ”He's all right, he's nice

enough, but he's not nice like Tony. Tony's different somehow. Me da likes Tony.” Immediately after saying this she bit on her lip. Had she said the wrong thing again? His eyes were fixed hard on her now, but he showed no reaction whatever to her words.

”What do you know about him?”

She blinked at him. ”Eeh? I mean, what? Tony?”

”I said, what do you know about him?”

”Nothing.” She wasn't going to give Tony away.

He seemed to sink down into his pillows now. His disappointment was evident, and his voice sounded

tired as he said, ”That's very unusual for you. As I remember you, you made it your business to know something about everybody.” ”Well, I said he was nice, and he is nice-in spite of having a nasty gran ” She closed her eyes tight against herself as Mr. Lord's body came slowly up in the bed. She dared not look at him. Eeh! now she had done it. What had she said? She was unable immediately to form the connection between Tony's grannie and Mr. Lord, but there was a connection, a strong connection, and something that she should not, under any circ.u.mstances, have referred to.

”Open your eyes.”

Slowly she opened her eyes. Their faces were close now.

”What do -you know about his ” There was a considerable I9i

X””””.

pause and a number of laboured breaths before Mr. Lord added the word ”grannie?”

”Only that she wasn't nice, she was a bit of a tartar.” ”Who said she wasn't nice?”

”Me da.” . ”_ ,,.

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