it smiting the gin below with a clash of swords.
“I’ll get merry,” she said desolately. “I
didn’t have my dinner. The pie’ll be spoiled. I turned the oven out.”
“Shall I get you a sandwich?”
“No. But you can make one for Daniel, if
you like.”
“Yes,” I said.
I got up and went into the kitchen. It was
a relief to move away from her. Something was happening to Daniel’s mother,
something insidious and profound. She was accepting me, drawing me in. I could
feel myself sinking in the quagmire.
As I made the sandwich from ingredients
I came on more or less at random, she started to talk to me. It was a ramble of
things, brought on by the relaxations of spilled blood and liquor, and the fact
that there had seldom been anyone to talk to . As I buttered bread,
sliced cheese and green cucumber, I learned how she had waited on and borne
with a cantankerous father, nursed him, finally seen him off through the door
in a box. I learned how she weighed meat behind the butcher’s counter and did
home-sewing, and how she had been courted by a plain stodgy young man, a
plumber’s assistant, and all she could come by in an era when it was essential
to come by something. And how eventually he jilted her.
The whisky lay in a little warm pool
across the floor of my mind. I began irresistibly to withdraw inside myself,
comparing her hopeless life with mine, the deadly job leading nowhere, the
loneliness. And all at once I saw a horrid thing, the horrid thing I had brought
upon myself. Her position was not hereditary, and might be bestowed. By
speaking freely, she was making the first moves. She was offering me, slyly,
her mantle. The role of protectress, nurse and mother, to Daniel—
I arranged the sandwich slowly on a
plate. There was still time to run away. Lots of time.
“Just walking,” I heard her say. “You
didn’t think about it then. Not like now. The sea was right out, and it was dark.
I never saw him properly. They’d make a fuss about it now, all right. Rape. You
didn’t, then. I was that innocent, I didn’t really know what he was doing. And
then he let go and left me. He crawled off. I think he must have run along the
edge of the sea, because I heard a splashing. And when the tide started to come
in again, I got up and I tidied myself, and I walked home.”
I stood quite still in the kitchen, the
sandwich on its plate in my hands, wide-eyed, listening.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant, thought I’d
eaten something. The doctor put me right. He told me what he thought of me,
too. Not in words, exactly, just his manner. Rotten old bugger. I went away to
have the baby. Everybody knew, of course. When he was the way he was, they
thought it was a punishment. They were like that round here, then. I lived off
the allowance, and what I had put by, and I couldn’t manage. And then, I used
to steal things, what do you think of that? I never got found out. Just once,
this woman stopped me. She said: I think you have a tin of beans in your bag. I
had, too, and the bill. What a red face she got. She didn’t tumble the other things
I’d taken and hadn’t paid for. Then I had a windfall. The old man I used to
work for, the butcher, he died, and he left me something. That was a real
surprise. A few thousand it was. And I put it in the Society, and I draw the
interest.”
I walked through into the room. She had
had a refill from the bottle and was stirring sugar into it.
“Do you mean Daniel’s father raped you?”
“Course that’s what I mean.”
“And you didn’t know who it was?”
“No.” She drank. She was smiling
slightly and licked the sugar off her lips.
“I thought you said he was a sailor.”
“I never. I said he was at sea. That’s
what I told people. My husband’s at sea. I bought myself a ring, and gave
myself a different name. Besmouth. I saw it on an advertisement. Besmouth’s
Cheese Crackers.” She laughed. “At sea,” she repeated. “Or out of it. He was
mother
“I’ll get merry,” she said desolately. “I
didn’t have my dinner. The pie’ll be spoiled. I turned the oven out.”
“Shall I get you a sandwich?”
“No. But you can make one for Daniel, if
you like.”
“Yes,” I said.
I got up and went into the kitchen. It was
a relief to move away from her. Something was happening to Daniel’s mother,
something insidious and profound. She was accepting me, drawing me in. I could
feel myself sinking in the quagmire.
As I made the sandwich from ingredients
I came on more or less at random, she started to talk to me. It was a ramble of
things, brought on by the relaxations of spilled blood and liquor, and the fact
that there had seldom been anyone to talk to . As I buttered bread,
sliced cheese and green cucumber, I learned how she had waited on and borne
with a cantankerous father, nursed him, finally seen him off through the door
in a box. I learned how she weighed meat behind the butcher’s counter and did
home-sewing, and how she had been courted by a plain stodgy young man, a
plumber’s assistant, and all she could come by in an era when it was essential
to come by something. And how eventually he jilted her.
The whisky lay in a little warm pool
across the floor of my mind. I began irresistibly to withdraw inside myself,
comparing her hopeless life with mine, the deadly job leading nowhere, the
loneliness. And all at once I saw a horrid thing, the horrid thing I had brought
upon myself. Her position was not hereditary, and might be bestowed. By
speaking freely, she was making the first moves. She was offering me, slyly,
her mantle. The role of protectress, nurse and mother, to Daniel—
I arranged the sandwich slowly on a
plate. There was still time to run away. Lots of time.
“Just walking,” I heard her say. “You
didn’t think about it then. Not like now. The sea was right out, and it was dark.
I never saw him properly. They’d make a fuss about it now, all right. Rape. You
didn’t, then. I was that innocent, I didn’t really know what he was doing. And
then he let go and left me. He crawled off. I think he must have run along the
edge of the sea, because I heard a splashing. And when the tide started to come
in again, I got up and I tidied myself, and I walked home.”
I stood quite still in the kitchen, the
sandwich on its plate in my hands, wide-eyed, listening.
“I didn’t know I was pregnant, thought I’d
eaten something. The doctor put me right. He told me what he thought of me,
too. Not in words, exactly, just his manner. Rotten old bugger. I went away to
have the baby. Everybody knew, of course. When he was the way he was, they
thought it was a punishment. They were like that round here, then. I lived off
the allowance, and what I had put by, and I couldn’t manage. And then, I used
to steal things, what do you think of that? I never got found out. Just once,
this woman stopped me. She said: I think you have a tin of beans in your bag. I
had, too, and the bill. What a red face she got. She didn’t tumble the other things
I’d taken and hadn’t paid for. Then I had a windfall. The old man I used to
work for, the butcher, he died, and he left me something. That was a real
surprise. A few thousand it was. And I put it in the Society, and I draw the
interest.”
I walked through into the room. She had
had a refill from the bottle and was stirring sugar into it.
“Do you mean Daniel’s father raped you?”
“Course that’s what I mean.”
“And you didn’t know who it was?”
“No.” She drank. She was smiling
slightly and licked the sugar off her lips.
“I thought you said he was a sailor.”
“I never. I said he was at sea. That’s
what I told people. My husband’s at sea. I bought myself a ring, and gave
myself a different name. Besmouth. I saw it on an advertisement. Besmouth’s
Cheese Crackers.” She laughed. “At sea,” she repeated. “Or out of it. He was
mother
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