Catherine Cookson - The Gambling Man

‘I’m never wasted on a gaming table.’ He pressed his lips together, jerked his chin to the side and winked at her.

Her face becoming serious now, she said, ‘Be careful. The more I hear of that man, Nickle, the more perturbed I become.’

‘Well, you couldn’t ask for a quieter, better mannered or refined gentleman, now could you?’

‘No; that makes him all the more sinister. It’s really unbelievable when you think of it, but I’m glad that he knows I’m aware of what he is. I wish I had been there when he put his tentative question: “Your wife, of course, knows nothing of our little . . . shall we say excursions into chance?” ’

He took up a haughty stance and mimicked, ‘ “Sir, my wife knows everything; she’s a remarkable woman.” And she is that.’ He put out his hand and slapped the raised dome of her stomach, and she laughed and tut-tutted as she in return slapped at his hand. Then her manner becoming serious again, she said, ‘Well, there’s one thing I can be assured of, he won’t try any of his underhand business on you, because if he wants to silence you he’ll also have to silence me. Who are you expecting tonight?’

‘Who knows! My, my! It gets more surprising. You should have seen the look on Veneer’s face when he saw me there, in the Newcastle rooms I mean. I thought he was going to pass out. I nearly did meself an’ all. I couldn’t believe me eyes. Him, a staunch supporter of the Temperance League! They would burn him at the stake if they knew. Just imagine the ladies of this town who wave the banners for temperance getting wind of what their Mr Veneer’s up to . . . And you know something? I’d gather the kindling for them; I never could stand him. I remember your father once sending me on some business to his office. He spoke to me as if I were so much clarts. Sorry, madam.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘Mud from the gutter.’

She was now standing in front of him holding his face firmly between her hands, and she said with deep pride, ‘Well, we’ve shown them. You’ve outwitted two of them already in business deals, and that’s only a beginning. What’s more, you’re the most fashionably dressed, best-looking man in the town, or the county for that matter.’ She tossed her head.

He didn’t preen himself at her praise, but he said, ‘I keep sayin’ you’re a remarkable woman, and you are. Every day that passes I discover something more remarkable about you. The very fact that you raised no protest at my gaming amazes me.’

‘What is one evening a week? As long as your failings only embrace cards and wine I’ll be content.’

He bent towards her now and kissed her gently on her hps, then said, ‘You can rest assured, Mrs Connor, that these shall be the limit of my failings. But now for orders.’ His manner changed, his voice took on a sterner note. ‘You are not to wait up for me, do you hear? Stoddard will pick me up at twelve, and when I get in I shall expect to find you in bed and fast asleep. If I don’t, then there’s going to be trouble.’

‘What will you do?’

He stared at her for a moment before replying, ‘I’ll take up the other vice.’

‘No, don’t say that.’ There was no flippancy in her tone now. ‘Not even in joke say you’ll take up the third vice. That’s something I couldn’t bear.’

‘You silly woman, don’t you ever believe anything I say?’

‘I want to.’

‘Well, what can I say to make you believe it?’

She looked into his eyes. They were smiling kindly at her and she only just prevented herself from blurting out, ‘Say that you love me. Oh, say that you love me.’

‘Go on.’ She pushed him from the room and into the hall. It was she who helped him into his coat and handed him his hat and scarf. Then she stood at the top of the steps and watched him go down them and into the carriage, and she waved to him and he waved back. Then stretching out his legs, he leant his head against the leather upholstery and sighed a deep contented sigh.

They were nearing the gate when the carriage was brought to an abrupt halt and he heard Stoddard shouting, ‘Whoa! Whoa, there!’ then add, ‘Who’s you?’

He pulled down the window and looked out, and there in the light of the carriage lamps he saw Jimmy. Quickly opening the door, he called to the driver, ‘It’s all right, Stoddard,’ then to Jimmy, ‘Get in. What’s up? What’s happened?’

As the carriage jerked forward again Jimmy bounced back on the seat, and again Rory demanded, ‘What is it? What’s happened now? Have they sunk another one?’

‘No.’ Jimmy shook his head. It’s nowt to do with the boats.’

‘Well, what is it? Something wrong at home?’ Rory’s inquiry was quiet, and when again Jimmy shook his head, he said almost angrily, ‘Well, spit it out, unless you’ve just come for a chat.’

‘I haven’t just come for a chat, and . . . and I’ve been hangin’ around for nearly an hour waitin’, waitin’ to see if you’d come out on your own.’

‘Why?’ Rory was sitting forward on the seat now. Their knees were touching. He peered into Jimmy’s white face, demanding, ‘Come on, whatever it is, tell us.’

‘You’re going to get a gliff, Rory.’

‘A gliff?’

‘Aye, you’ll . . . you’ll never believe it. You’d . . . you’d better brace yourself. It’s . . . it’s something you won’t be able to take in.’ When he stopped, Rory said quietly, ‘Well, tell us.’

‘It’s . . . it’s Janie.’

Jimmy’s voice had been so soft that Rory thought he couldn’t possibly have heard aright; Jimmy’s words had been distorted, he imagined, by the grind­ing of the carriage wheels, so he said loudly, ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, it’s Janie.’

‘Janie?’ A sudden cold sweat swept over his body and his own voice was scarcely audible now when he asked, ‘What . . . what about Janie?’

‘She’s . . . she’s back. She’s . . . she’s not dead, she wasn’t drowned . . .’

Rory didn’t utter a word, no protest, nothing, but his body fell back and his head once more touched the upholstery, and as if he had been shot into a nightmare again he listened to Jimmy’s voice saying, ‘I was petrified. It was her voice, but . . . but I wouldn’t open the door at first. And then . . . and then when I saw her, I still didn’t believe it was her. She’s . . . she’s changed. Nobody . . . nobody would recognize her. It . . . it was the shock. Her hair’s gone white, and her skin, her skin’s all brown like an Arab’s in Corstorphine Town. It’s the sun, she said. She’s . . . she’s been in some place in France miles off the beaten track. She talks about a priest comin’ once every six months. She’s changed, aye. I knew you’d get a gliff but . . . but I had to come. If . . . if I hadn’t she would have turned up herself. Eeh! she’s changed. What’ll you do, Rory? What’ll you do?’

His world was spinning about him. He watched it spiralling upwards and away, taking with it the new way of living and the prestige it had brought to him. Sir, he was called, Master. She had given him everything a woman could possibly give a man, a home, wealth, position, and now a child. He had never been so happy in his life as he had been since he married her; and his feelings for her were growing deeper every day. You couldn’t live with a woman like that and receive so much from her and give nothing in return; something had been growing in him, and last night he had almost told her what it was, he had almost put a name to it. He had never thought he would be able to say to another woman, I love you. That kind of thing didn’t happen twice, he had told himself. No; and he was right, that kind of thing didn’t happen twice. But there were different kinds of love. It was even appearing to him that what he was feeling now would grow into a bigger love, a better love, a fuller love. Charlotte had said there were better marriages based on friendship than on professions of eternal love.