The Gambling Man

‘No, not good, just weak, Jimmy. And you know, in a funny sort of way I feel responsible for . . .’

‘No! Don’t be silly, John George.’ Jimmy cut in. ‘Now don’t get that into your head. It’s me, if anybody, who should shoulder the blame for Rory’s going. It’s me. If I hadn’t wanted the damned boatyard he’d be here the day. Aye, he would.’

‘No, no, don’t blame yourself, Jimmy. It was just one of those things. Life’s made up of them when you think about it, isn’t it?’ He paused, then asked softly, ‘How’s she, Miss . . . I mean his wife? How’s she taking it?’

‘Oh, hard, though she’s puttin’ a face on it to outsiders. She was more than fond of him you know.’

‘Aye. Yes, I guessed that. Yet it came as a surprise when I heard they’d married. But I got a bigger surprise when she sought me out. I couldn’t take it in. After all . . . well, you know, doing what I did, and the case and things. I’d imagined she was like her father. You knew about what she did for me, like setting me up?’

‘Yes, John George.’

‘And you didn’t hold it against me for taking it?’

‘Why, no, man. Why, no; I was glad; it showed you held no hard feelings.’

‘Some wouldn’t see it that way. What did they think about it in the kitchen?’

‘Oh, they just thought it was kind of her; they don’t know the true ins and outs of it, John George.’

Again they stared at each other without speaking. Then John George said, ‘Well, they’ll never hear it from me, Jimmy. I’ve never let on to a soul, not even to Maggie.’

‘Thanks, John George. You’re one in a thousand.’

‘No, just soft, I suppose. He used to say I was soft.’

He turned and looked over the headstones in the direction of the grave, but there was no rancour in his words. Then looking at Jimmy again, he said, ‘It’s eased me somewhat, Jimmy, to have a word with you. I hope I’ll see you again.’

‘Me an’ all, John George. Aye, I’d like that. I’ll come up sometime, if you don’t mind.’

‘You’d be more than welcome, Jimmy, more than welcome.’

‘Well, I’ve got to go now, they’ll likely be waiting and I’ll be holding up the carriages. So long, John George.’ Jimmy held out his hand.

John George gripped it. ‘So long, Jimmy.’

They now nodded at each other, then simultane­ously turned away, John George in the direction of the grave and Jimmy towards the gates, the carriage and Charlotte, and the coming night, which seemed the first he was about to spend without Rory, for up till now his body had lain in the house.

It was as he crossed the intersecting path again that he saw Stoddard hurrying towards him.

‘Oh, there you are, sir. The mistress was wonder­ing.’

‘I’m sorry. I saw an old friend of . . . of my brother’s. I . . . I had to have a word . . .’

‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’

It was funny to be called sir, he’d never get used to it like Rory had.

They were making their way through small groups of men in order to reach the gates and the carriage beyond when he saw her. Perhaps it was because of the strong contrast in dress that the weirdly garbed figure standing in the shadow of the cypress tree stood out. Both Jimmy and Stoddard looked towards it, and Jimmy almost came to a stop and would once again have diverted had not Stoddard said quietly, ‘The mistress is waiting, sir.’

‘Oh yes, yes.’ Poor Janie. What must she be feeling at this moment? Rory’s wife, his real wife after all was said and done, hidden away like a criminal. But she had come; despite the protests she had come. Her presence would surely cause comment.

So thought Stoddard. But then, as he told himself yet again what he had said to the staff last night, it was a lucky family that hadn’t someone they were ashamed to own because of their oddities. It hap­pened in the highest society, and certainly in the lowest, and you couldn’t blame the master or his folks for not wanting to bring that creature to the fore.

8

They were gathered in the kitchen. Paddy sitting by the fire with his leg propped up on a chair; Ruth sitting opposite to him, a half-made shirt lying on her lap, her hands resting on top of it; Jimmy sitting by the corner of the table, and Lizzie standing by the table to the side of him, while Janie stood at the end of it facing them all.

She was dressed as she had been since she came back; even, within doors she kept the strange hat on her head. She looked from one to the other as she said, ‘You’re blamin’ me for taking it, aren’t you? After the stand I made you think I should have thrown the money back in her face?’

‘No, no.’ They all said it in different ways, shakes of the head, movements of the hands, mutters, but their protests didn’t sound convincing to her, and now, her voice raised, she said, ‘You took from her. It was all right for you to take from her, all of you. And what had she done to you? Nowt.’

‘Nobody’s sayin’ you shouldn’t ’ve taken it, Janie. We’re just sad like that you still feel this way about things.’