Catherine Cookson - The Gambling Man

He didn’t answer himself this time with, ‘No! No!’ but walked on, muttering instead, ‘God Almighty! it’s unbelievable.’

‘You’re quiet the night. Nothing wrong is there? And what made you go back to the office this afternoon?’

‘Oh, I had some work to get through. It’s been a heavy week, and I’ve got that Pittie mob on me mind. Did he say he’d seen them around the day?’

‘No. He only stayed in for a few minutes after I got home, I told you. He said he was goin’ down to collect some wood he had roped together.’

‘But that was this afternoon. It’s dark, he should be back by now. I’d better take a walk out and see if he’s comin’.’

He looked towards her where she was kneading dough in a brown earthenware dish, then went out and down the steps into the yard. There was a moon riding high, raced by white scudding clouds. He walked to the end of the little jetty and looked along each side of the river where boats large and small were moored. He liked the river at night when it was quiet like this, but he had made up his mind, at least he had done until this morning, that it wouldn’t be long before he moved Janie away from this quarter and into a decent house in the town. He had thought Jimmy could stay on here, Jimmy wouldn’t mind living on his own, for he was self-sufficient was Jimmy. But now things had changed. This morning’s business had blown his schemes away into dust.

He’d had the feeling of late that he was galloping towards some place but he didn’t know where. So many strange things had happened over the past months. He wasn’t even wearing the same kind of clothes he wore a few weeks ago for she had hinted not only that he should get a new suit but where he should go to buy it. However, he hadn’t patronised the shop she suggested; he hadn’t, he told himself, enough money as yet for that kind of tailoring. Nevertheless, he had got himself a decent suit, with a high waistcoat and the jacket flared, and the very cut of it had lifted him out of the rent collector’s class. But now the rosy future had suddenly died on him. What would she say on Monday? . . . Well, he’d have to wait and see, that’s all he could do.

He heard a soft splash and saw the minute figure of Jimmy steering the boat towards the jetty. He bent down and grabbed the rope that Jimmy threw to him, then said, ‘You all right? Where you been all day? What’s taken you so long?’

‘The wood I’d had piled up, it was scattered, some back in the river, all over. I had a job collectin’ it again.’

‘The Pitties?’

‘I shouldn’t wonder. I don’t think it could be bairns, it would have been too heavy for them.’

‘Well, leave it where it is till the mornin’, we’ll sort it out then.’

When Jimmy had made fast his boat and was standing on the quay he peered at Rory saying, ‘What’s up? You look as if you’d lost a tanner and found a threepenny bit. Anything wrong?’

‘No, no, nothing. How about you?’

‘Oh well, they were around early on in the mornin’ again, two of them. They moored just opposite and sat lookin’ across, just starin’. But I went on with me work, and I stood for a time and stared back. Then they went off.’ And he added, ‘If they try anything I’ll go straight and tell the river polis.’

‘It’ll likely be too late then. The only thing is be careful and don’t be such a bloody fool stayin’ out in the dark. They’re not likely to try anything in the daylight, but give them a chance in the dark, and you’re asking for it.’

All Jimmy replied to this was, ‘Aye. By! I’m hungry,’ and ran up the steps, and when he opened the door he sniffed loudly and said, ‘Ooh! that smells good.’

Janie turned to him from the table, saying, ‘Aye well, now you’ll have to wait a bit, we’ve had to wait for you.’

‘I’m hungry, woman.’

‘Are you ever anything else?’ she laughed at him. ‘Well, there’s some fresh teacakes there, tuck into them.’

As he broke a hot teacake in two, he asked, ‘What’s for supper?’

‘Finny haddy.’

‘Good, and hurry up with it.’

She thrust out her arm to clip his ear, but he dodged the blow and went and sat himself on the steel fender with his back to the oven and laughed and chatted as he ate.

Looking at him, Rory knew a sudden spasm of envy as he thought, he was born bowed, but he was born happy. Why can’t I be like him? But then the answer to that one was, they had different mothers. He hadn’t thought along these lines for some time now; it was odd but it was only when he was faced with trouble that he let his bitterness against Lizzie have rein.

Of a sudden he said to neither of them in particular, ‘Will we have to go home the morrow again?’

Both Janie and Jimmy turned a quick glance on him and it was Janie who said, ‘Of course we’ll have to go home the morrow. We always do, don’t we? It’s Sunday.’

‘That’s it, that’s what I mean, we always do. Couldn’t we do something different, take a trip up the river or something? We’ve got our own boat.’

‘But they’ll be expectin’ us. It won’t be Sunday for them if we don’t go up; they’ll all be there.’

‘Aye, they’ll all be there.’ His voice trailed away on a sigh and he turned and went into the bedroom while Janie and Jimmy exchanged another look and Jimmy said under his breath, ‘Something’s wrong. I twigged it right away.’

‘You think so?’ Janie whispered back.

‘Aye, don’t you?’

‘Well, I did think he was a bit quiet, but when I asked him he said everything was all right.’

‘Aye, that’s what he says, but there’s something up. I’m tellin’ you, there’s something up.’

When, in the middle of the night, Janie was again woken from her sleep by Rory’s voice, not mumbling this time but shouting, she hissed at him, ‘Ssh! ssh! Wake up. What is it?’

But he went on, louder now, ‘I’ll make it up to you, I will . . . I know . . . I know, but I couldn’t.’

‘Rory! Rory! wake up.’

‘Five pounds. I had it, I had it. You’re to blame.’

‘Rory! do you hear me?’ She was trying to shake him.

‘Wha’? Wha’?’ He half woke and grabbed at her hands, then almost at the same time threw her aside, crying, ‘What was the good of two of us doin’ time! I’m not goin’ in there, so don’t keep on. You won’t get me in there, not for five pounds, or fifty. Five clarty pounds. Five clarty pounds. If I’d had the chance I’d have put it back, I would. I . . . would . . .’ His voice trailed away and he fell back on the pillows.

Janie sat bolt upright in the bed staring down through the darkness, not on to Rory but towards where her hands were gripping the quilt . . . That was it then. That was it ! It should have been as clear as daylight from the beginning.

She saw John George’s face through the grid saying, ‘Tell Rory that, will you? Tell him I didn’t take the five pounds.’ And what John George was actually saying was, ‘Tell him to own up.’ She couldn’t believe it, yet she knew it was true. He had let John George, his good friend, go to that stinking place alone. It was true he couldn’t have done much about it at first, but after he regained consciousness in hospital he must have known. That’s why he hadn’t asked for John George. It should have been one of the first things he mentioned. ‘What’s the matter with John George?’ he should have said. ‘Why hasn’t he come to see me?’

No, she couldn’t believe it, she couldn’t. But she had to. She now turned her head towards the bulk lying beside her and instinctively hitched herself away from it towards the wall. But the next move she made was almost like that of an animal, for she pounced on him and, her hands gripping his shoulders, she cried, ‘Wake up! Wake up!’