Read Online Our Time Is Gone by James Hanley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hanley
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though there was at least no odour thrown up by bone-yards. Here the air smelt of rope and of the sea, and the people who lived in it.
âFanny, woman,â Mr. Fury had said, âsurely, surely there were hundreds and hundreds of places to come to besides this? Surely?â
Well! she preferred this. It suited her. She wanted to hear no more about it.
Then Anthony. He wouldnât like it, a young man like himââWell!
That couldnât be helped either! She was satisfied here. It was a step down. All the better! She could hide. Besides, in this place people werenât so curious.
Mr. Fury made no more comment. But he thought a lot. He thought it was sad to see this hard-working, good-living woman stuck in a hole like this. No doubt he would be blamed for that too. His own foolishness again. Let her talk. There was nothing more to be said, need be said. Down and not up. Into a hole to hide. Well! Well! So it had come to that.
Having made up his mind, Mr. Fury went back to the house. He had been wandering around since eight oâclock and now it was near midday. Again he rang up the hospital. This time they told him the woman was unconscious, but he could come any time now.
Before the altar on the kitchen dresser Mr. Fury knelt down and prayed. He hoped, hoped, hoped Fanny would get well. For suddenly there came into his mind the thought of all she meant to him, of the happy times they had had, they could still have. Lots of things to do for her. Just he and she on their own. Five years ago they might have been. But she had said âNo.â Well, it couldnât be helped.
He had something to eat, a slice of cold ham and bread and butter. He made more tea. He would have enjoyed a glass of beer, but somehow could not endure the thought of going into a pub whilst she was lying so ill; no, he couldnât do that.
Later he went upstairs. He put on a collar and tie, one of his sonâs collars, and laughed when he found it was much too big. Better than none at all. He put on his tie, his bowler hat, then left the house. The thought of going to the priest, of having made up his mind, of actually being on his way, lightened his step. Please God, everything would come right. He went straight ahead till he came to the tram stop. There he stood deliberating.
There was Father Jolly. Yes. But, wellâno. Heâd always been after him to sign the pledge. Why, of course, there was Father Moynihan and then his heart sank again. Father Moynihan was no longer in Hatfields. In fact he was actually in Irelandâhad been for some time now. With Father Moynihan off the list, Denny Fury began to feel that he was alone in the world. No matter. Heâd go to Saint Sebastianâs. Heâd find Father Tierney. Two priests couldnât be in Ireland.
When the tram came he went to board it, hesitated, finally let it go. It had just occurred to him that as soon as he got off the tram at the Kingâs Road there would be people who would recognize him. And theyâd ask questions and in the end there would be nothing but talk. He didnât want to talk. He was sick of talk. He boarded the next tram.
Having paid his fare he went upstairs. There were only three passengers on top. A matronly lady, and two young girls, who ate chocolates and giggled at one and the same time. Mr. Fury seated himself right in front. It would be curious going back along the same route. Seeing the familiar roads and streets and shops, the well-known landmarks. He looked out at the passing people. All were strangers to him. He knew nobody at all in this part of Gelton. The tram rattled on like a tank, even swayed and rocked like a ship. He lit his pipe and sat well back in the seat.
Soon he was seeing known things. Here a street he knew only too well. Lord! How many times had he walked down there to his ship? Yes, and there was the Grapes. Heavens above! Why the last time he had stepped into that house had been when he
âFanny, woman,â Mr. Fury had said, âsurely, surely there were hundreds and hundreds of places to come to besides this? Surely?â
Well! she preferred this. It suited her. She wanted to hear no more about it.
Then Anthony. He wouldnât like it, a young man like himââWell!
That couldnât be helped either! She was satisfied here. It was a step down. All the better! She could hide. Besides, in this place people werenât so curious.
Mr. Fury made no more comment. But he thought a lot. He thought it was sad to see this hard-working, good-living woman stuck in a hole like this. No doubt he would be blamed for that too. His own foolishness again. Let her talk. There was nothing more to be said, need be said. Down and not up. Into a hole to hide. Well! Well! So it had come to that.
Having made up his mind, Mr. Fury went back to the house. He had been wandering around since eight oâclock and now it was near midday. Again he rang up the hospital. This time they told him the woman was unconscious, but he could come any time now.
Before the altar on the kitchen dresser Mr. Fury knelt down and prayed. He hoped, hoped, hoped Fanny would get well. For suddenly there came into his mind the thought of all she meant to him, of the happy times they had had, they could still have. Lots of things to do for her. Just he and she on their own. Five years ago they might have been. But she had said âNo.â Well, it couldnât be helped.
He had something to eat, a slice of cold ham and bread and butter. He made more tea. He would have enjoyed a glass of beer, but somehow could not endure the thought of going into a pub whilst she was lying so ill; no, he couldnât do that.
Later he went upstairs. He put on a collar and tie, one of his sonâs collars, and laughed when he found it was much too big. Better than none at all. He put on his tie, his bowler hat, then left the house. The thought of going to the priest, of having made up his mind, of actually being on his way, lightened his step. Please God, everything would come right. He went straight ahead till he came to the tram stop. There he stood deliberating.
There was Father Jolly. Yes. But, wellâno. Heâd always been after him to sign the pledge. Why, of course, there was Father Moynihan and then his heart sank again. Father Moynihan was no longer in Hatfields. In fact he was actually in Irelandâhad been for some time now. With Father Moynihan off the list, Denny Fury began to feel that he was alone in the world. No matter. Heâd go to Saint Sebastianâs. Heâd find Father Tierney. Two priests couldnât be in Ireland.
When the tram came he went to board it, hesitated, finally let it go. It had just occurred to him that as soon as he got off the tram at the Kingâs Road there would be people who would recognize him. And theyâd ask questions and in the end there would be nothing but talk. He didnât want to talk. He was sick of talk. He boarded the next tram.
Having paid his fare he went upstairs. There were only three passengers on top. A matronly lady, and two young girls, who ate chocolates and giggled at one and the same time. Mr. Fury seated himself right in front. It would be curious going back along the same route. Seeing the familiar roads and streets and shops, the well-known landmarks. He looked out at the passing people. All were strangers to him. He knew nobody at all in this part of Gelton. The tram rattled on like a tank, even swayed and rocked like a ship. He lit his pipe and sat well back in the seat.
Soon he was seeing known things. Here a street he knew only too well. Lord! How many times had he walked down there to his ship? Yes, and there was the Grapes. Heavens above! Why the last time he had stepped into that house had been when he
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