The Gambling Man

‘I think I’d like to see the bridges. I heard me da say there’s some fine bridges. Funny me never ever havin’ seen Newcastle and it only seven miles off. And there’s me grannie. She worked there at one time, she was in service at a place overlooking the river. She used to keep talking about the boats laden down with coal going up to London. It was funny, she never liked Newcastle. She still speaks of the people there as if they were foreigners; she’s always sayin’ they kept the South Shields men down, wouldn’t let them have their own shipping rights or nothing until a few years back. It’s funny when you come to think of it, John George, we know more about the people from Ireland, like the Learys and Rory’s folks, than we do about them up in Newcastle. I’m beginning to see the sense of some of me grannie’s sayings; she always used to be saying, “You could be closer to a square head from Sweden than you could to a man with a barrow from Jarrow.”’

John George laughed now, saying, ‘I’ve never heard that one afore.’

‘Oh, I think it’s one of me grannie’s make-up ones. You know, half the things she says I think she makes up. If she had ever been able to read or write she would have been a story teller. I’ve said that to her. Oh—’ She sighed now and shook her gloved hands to bring the circulation back into her fingers as she said, ‘We’re nearly there.’ Then on a little giggle, she added, ‘If the missis was to see you she’d think I was leading a double life and she’d raise the riot act on me.’

As they stopped before a side gate that was picked out by the light from a street lamp she looked at John George, now blowing on his hands, and said with deep concern, ‘Oh, you must be frozen stiff, John George. And no gloves.’

‘Gloves!’ His voice was high. ‘You can see me wearin’ gloves, I’d be taken for a dandy.’

‘Don’t be silly. You need gloves, especially goin’ round in this weather, scribbling in rent books. At least you want mittens. I’ll knit you a pair.’

He stood looking down on her for a long moment before saying, ‘Well, if you knit me a pair of mittens, Janie, I’ll wear them.’

‘That’s a bargain?’

‘That’s a bargain.’

‘Thanks for comin’ all this way, John George.’

‘It’s been my pleasure, Janie.’

‘I . . . I hope you see your girl next week.’

‘I hope so an’ all. I . . . I’d like you to meet her. You’d like her, I know you’d like her, and what’s more, well, being you you’d bring her out, ’cos she’s quiet. You have that habit, you know, of bringing people out, making people talk. You got me talkin’ the night all right about Newcastle.’

Janie stood for a moment blinking up at him and slightly embarrassed and affected by the tenderness of this lanky, kindly young fellow. His simple talking was having the same effect on her as Rory’s gentle touch had done. She felt near tears, she had the silly desire to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek just like a sister might. But that was daft, there was no such thing as sisterly kisses. That was another thing her grannie had said and she believed her. There were mothers’ kisses and lovers’ kisses but no sisterly kisses, not between a man and woman who weren’t related anyway . . . Yet the master kissed his sister-in-law, she had seen him. Eeh! what was she standing here for? She said in a rush, ‘Good night, John George. And thanks again, I’ll see you next Sunday. Ta-rah.’

‘Ta-rah, Janie.’

She hurried up the side path, but before opening the kitchen door she glanced back towards the gate and saw the dim outline of his figure silhouetted against the lamplight, and she waved to it; and he waved back; then she went into the house . . .

Mrs Tyler, the cook, turned from her seat before the fire, looked at Janie, then looked at the clock above the mantelpiece before saying, ‘You’ve just made it.’

‘There’s three minutes to go yet.’ Her retort was perky.

She wasn’t very fond of Mrs Tyler. She had only been cook in the Buckhams’ household for eighteen months but from the first she had acted as if she had grown up with the family. And what was more, Janie knew she was jealous of her own standing with the master and mistress.

The cook never said anything outright to her but she would talk at her through Bessie Rice, the housemaid, making asides such as ‘Some people take advantage of good nature, they don’t know their place. Don’t you ever get like that, Bessie now. In Lady Beckett’s household, where I did my trainin’, the nursemaid might have her quarters up on the attic floor but below stairs she was considered bottom cellar steps. Of course, a governess was different. They were educated like. Why, in Lady Beckett’s the still-room maid sat well above the nursemaid.’

On the occasion when this particular remark was made, Janie had had more than enough of Lady Beckett for one day and so, walking out of the kitchen, she remarked to no one in particular, ‘Lady Betty’s backside !’