Mary Ann Shaughnessy - The Devil And Marianne Part 2

"When you goin', Mary Ann?"

"The morrer."

"Are you going in a train?"

"Yes, and in a car." She had brightened visibly; the pain of partings was forgotten; there was nothing but the present, for she had an audience. "Mr. Lord . . . he's coming for us at eight o'clock and takin' me ma and da and our Michael and me to Newcastle. Me ma's goin' with me all the way, and I've got dozens of boxes of clothes . . . cases, all new. And me name's on everything, full length-Mary Ann Shaughnessy."

"It would be, Milady Bug."

Mary Ann swung round, new clothes and prestige forgotten. There, standing not a foot from her and not apparently impressed in the slightest by her splendours, stood Sarah Flannagan.

They glared at each other, Mary Ann having to thrust her heOte back to keep her eyes fixed on the taller girl. This was the old battle ground.

"What do you want round here, anyway . . . showing off as usual? . . . Tm going in a big car!'" Sarah gave an impression of Mary Ann, which drew a t.i.tter from the fickle spectators. "And you'll come back, likely as not, in the Black Maria . . . or the muck cart."

Mary Ann's chin was out; her lips were out; and her eyes were popping. "You! . . . You're jealous . . . that's what you are."

"Huh! Listen to her. Jealous! What have I got to be jealous of? An upstart? For that's all you are. Me ma says you're nothing but an upstart. And what's more, my da hadn't to be dooled out with a job to keep him quiet. Me ma says if old Lord hadn't given your da the job on the farm, he would have had to fork out thousands and thousands for his lost hand. He's made a fool of him, and everybody knows it's only charity your da's on."

"You ! ... How dare you ! Oh ! " Mary Ann was lost for words. "You! you! and your ma," she managed to splutter. "You and your ma, there's a pair of you. And you'll end up in h.e.l.l for the lies you tell. As for your da, he's so hen-pecked he can't wipe his nose afore he gets permission."

This last eloquent thrust was remembered from a little eavesdropping; it was a statement her father had laughingly made to her mother. Now it penetrated Sarah's superior guard, causing her fury to erupt. And this brought her even nearer to Mary Ann. Whereupon, Mary Ann, having no known supporter, retreated just the slightest, but not ign.o.bly, for she brought to her face a tantalising sneer that seemed to make Sarah swell.

"You, you to talk about anybody . . . you've got some nerve with a da like yours, you have. A big drunken, fightin' no-good, and it's only a few weeks back that you had to come right up to our street and fetch him, and him singing with the street out. . . . Your da!" Sarah's scorn was searing, "Ten a penny."

The financial significance of the last remark subtly reduced Mike's standard, socially, morally and physically, to the lowest denomination. It was an insult not to be borne ... it had to be repudiated.right away. Mary Ann needed words, fighting words, words of scorn and fire. They were all there, milling around inside of her but finding an outlet impossible owing to the barrier of indignation blocking their path somewhere in the region of her upper ribs. But there were no impeding thoughts standing in the way of her right hand, and guided by, of course, nothing but right it raised itself and contacted Sarah's face full on with a resounding slap.

Sarah choked and gasped, and the "eehs" that filled the air told Mary Ann, if the pain in her hand had not done so, that that was a whopper. But Sarah's swift retaliation cut short the glow of conquest, all that Mary Ann was aware of in the next moment was that her head was ringing and that she was falling backward. Preservation of her new clothes forbade this indignity, and she told herself frantically that whatever she did she mustn't fall, so she reeled on her heels into the roadway, her arms waving in an endeavour to regain her balance. And she might have done so but for a s.h.i.+ning puddle of water. It was just a small puddle, but one seeming to possess impish and magnetic qualities, for it drew her small b.u.t.tocks towards it, and as they made contact with the muddy water, it flew away in sprays, that is, all that did not fall back on her.

Tears of fright and mortification ran from her eyes. Her onetime audience were now laughing their heads off, and Sarah's voice came to her, as if from a distance, crying, "Look at who's going to be a lady ! I'm going to a posh school, I am, I'm going to be a lady. Lady Muck of Clarty Hall ! "

Suddenly there was a scurrying of feet, and as Mary Ann turned herself tearfully over she saw them racing away in all directions. And when she was erect once more she was standing alone except for Miss Johnson, who was facing her from the gate.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes, Miss."

Miss Johnson slowly advanced to the edge of the pavement, then vented her spleen on the child she had never liked.

"It doesn't look as if your glowing prospects have altered you much," she said. /"Get yourself away home. I am sure your mother will be pleased to see you."

burning slowly about, Mary Ann walked somewhat drunkenly away. She hated Miss Johnson, she did. And eeh ! her clothes. Eeh! her ma would go mad. Eeh! what was the back like? Look at the front of her coat . . . and her hands and her cuffs. Eeh! what was she to do? ... And all through her. At this moment she prayed through her feelings for every catastrophe, calamity, disaster, and mortification to fall on that-that ... ! She could find no words as a fitting pseudonym for the hated name of Sarah Flannagan.

Her legs, without any directions from her, took her towards the bus stop, where, a bus arriving at the same moment, she was on it before her mind cried at her, "You should have gone back to Mrs. McBride, she would have cleaned you up."

The conductor stood over her, grinning, and his heartening remark, "By! your ma's goin' to be pleased to see you," seemed to endorse that of her teacher and suggested to her again that 3 she should get off and go back to her friend, who had on many other occasions cleaned her up. But a deadness had descended on her, the result mostly of a morning that had not gone at all according to plan. It had been such a morning which her mother would have referred to as ... something having got into it.

Father Owen's discourse on the Devil coming back to her mind, caused her head to move impatiently, a sure sign of her inward disbelief. According to him the Devil took up only half of Sarah Flannagan. Her critical faculty told her with authority that there were some things even a priest didn't know. But what was she to do now? These were her going away clothes, she just couldn't go home like this.

They were leaving the town, and it was the sight of the first tree that connected her hara.s.sed thoughts with Mr. Lord's house. He'd be out, at the farm, or in Newcasde or some place, and there'd only be old Ben in. Old Ben wasn't bad; in fact, he had been nice to her lately . . . well, not nice exactly but not awful, like on her first visit when he tried to throw her out of the house. She would go to him and ask him to clean her up.

The conductor's grin followed her when she alighted, but with as much defiant dignity as she could muster she ignored him and the departing bus, and, crossing the deserted road, made for the great open iron gates.

This position of the gates, even after some months, had failed to make them look at ease, for the burden of twenty years of locks and chains needed some throwing off, even by gates, and by their forbidding aspect it would seem that diey did not thank their liberator as she ran past them and up the drive.

She hadn't even reached the turn of the drive before she heard the hum of the car. Unmistakably Mr. Lord's car, and if she had been able to think of anything it would have been that Father Owen was right after all-the Devil was certainly out this morning. Wildly she looked towards the hedges on each side of her, but, not being a ferret she saw there was no escape that way; she was trapped by the last person on earth she wished to meet at this moment. It wasn't fair, it wasn't ... the last time she'd had a row with Sarah Flannagan he had to come on the scene, and she had a feeling that Mr. Lord got one up on her da when she was in this kind of a mess.

In another second they were face to face; Mr. Lord, with narrowed eyes beneath his white, bristling brows, was looking through the windscreen at her. Standing as if struck, in the middle of the drive she returned his scrutiny.

After suffering a long survey by Mr. Lord, during which he uttered no command of "Come here!" she walked slowly to the side of the car and, not with head bent in contrition, but with chin lifted to his scowling countenance, she muttered, "I fell down." "You fell down?" The voice held neither anger nor pity, but what it did hold confirmed her earlier feelings. "Yes."

"I don't suppose this could be the result of another fight, could it?"

She remained silent, and he went on, "And what are you doing here? Now-" he raised his finger-"don't tell me you've called to see how I am." "I wasn't going to." Her chin jerked. "Well?"

"I was going to ask Ben-Mr. Ben to clean me up." *ou were, were you ! Well, Mr. Ben has something better to do ... your mother will see to that. Get in."

Dodging under his arm that held open the door, she climbed on to the seat. The door crashed closed, making her jump as it always did, and Mr. Lord, without looking at her and in the process of starting up the car, exclaimed, "I'm right, I imagine, when I think that you are wearing your new clothes, those in which you are to travel tomorrow?"

There was no need to answer this, and she sat upright on the edge of the seat, her eyes saddened by the unfair trials of the morning, but her pursed lips showing the spirit that still defied them.

The car leapt over the road, and almost, it would seem, within seconds the fields of the farm came into view, and with them retribution of some sort came nearer. . . . Mean, he was . . . that's what he was . . . mean. He could have let her go to Mr. Ben, he could. She hated him. ... Eeh ! no, she didn't. Well, he could have Her thoughts were checked by the car being turned up a side lane and brought to a stop. This, for the first time during the drive, brought her head round to him, and she looked up at the forbidding profile of "The Lord" as she thought of him. Only once before had he stopped the car like this, and that was when he told her he would give her da the farm manager's job if she would promise to go away to school and not let on that he had asked her. Perhaps he was going to say it didn't matter and she needn't go. No. Hope of such wholesale reprieve fled on the thought of "don't be daft", for he would, she felt, send her away to this school if she were dying. She had a swift mental picture of being carried on a stretcher to the train and being received at the convent by rows and rows of sympathetic nuns. Yet hope was never really dead in her, and it rose with its false voice and suggested that he might be going to say that she could go some place nearer, where she could come back at the weekends and see her da.

The car ceased its throbbing, and she watched him lean back, draw in a long breath, then let it out again, and as he did so he turned his head and looked at her. And then he smiled, just a little bit, with his mouth.

Quickly she responded to his mood. He could be nice . . . she liked him, she did. She would like to make him laugh. But at the moment she didn't feel like laughing.

"Tomorrow morning there will be no time to talk, Mary Ann." His voice was kind, and he was looking at her as if he didn't mind the mess she was in ... but, still, he was talking about tomorrow morning. "Now, child, listen to me." He had taken her hands into his long bony ones. "Now listen to what I'm saying. Tomorrow you begin a new life. From tomorrow you have the opportunity to become-well-" his shoulders moved; his moustache was pressed outwards and he released one hand and spread his fingers wide, and they seemed to encompa.s.s the world-"you can be anything you want to be, Mary Ann. Do you understand?"

Her eyes were fixed tight on his, and her head moved once.

"Anything. You must forget about-about all this." He waved his hand around the car, but the indication took in the farm and all it held.

The light in her eyes faded somewhat, and he was quick to add, "Until the holidays; they'll soon come round. And you must learn. Apply yourself to your lessons-think of nothing else but learning when you are there. And if you play your part at school, I'll play my part here. You understand?"

"Yes."

Yes, she understood the implications, and the knowledge of her understanding pressed like a weight on her heart.

"You have a head on your shoulders, Mary Ann." He nodded slowly at her. "You are older than your years . . . you can lap up knowledge quickly if you have the mind. Pay attention . . . above all things, pay attention to your English, then languages will follow as easily as " He snapped his fingers. "I will know of your progress from your letters. . . . You will write tome?"

This last was not put as an order, but as a request, and she said, "Yes. Yes, I'll write to you."

After one look that took her in from her muddied hat to her shoes, he turned back to the wheel, and his next words tugged atatMid brought to the surface the affection she had for him. "You'll write . . . but you won't think of me until you have to do that irksome duty; you'll forget me."

Now she could respond, for below the brusqueness of his voice lay the buried loneliness that she had discovered on their first meeting. This was the part of him that she liked . . . loved. This was the part of him she used all her efforts to make laugh. All the benefits she and the family had received from his hands rushed before her, and she knew that but for him they would still be in Mulhattans' Hall . . . perhaps not even there, but some place worse.

She was kneeling on the seat now, close to his side, his bony, blue-veined hands gripped by her two small ones. "No, I won't! I won't forget you ever, I won't! And I'll try to learn for you, I will." She nearly added, "If you'll see to me da." But wisdom forbade this and prompted a more soothing balm to the old man's feelings, so swiftly she reached up, and, with her arms about his neck, she planted a kiss on the close-shaved wrinkled cheek. His eyes, now a few inches from hers, appeared pale and misty as they enveloped her, and with his hands cupping her small elfin face, he said, "Don't fail me, Mary Ann, will you?"

This softly spoken demand brought a damper to this nice part of the proceedings, and, after a somewhat doubtful sounding "No," she slid down to the seat. The car started and they were out on the main road again; then before you could say "Jack Robinson" they had turned into the lane which led to the farm, swept past the cottages where only a few weeks ago she had lived, right through the mud that the cattle made in the dip and into the actual farmyard.

Her eyes darted up at him. Why hadn't he put her off at their door, she'd only have to walk back? Then the sight of Mike, coming out of the cow byres at that moment gave her the reason. Yet again she couldn't fully explain it, she only knew that he wanted her da to see her all messed up. Oh! he was mean, he was.

Mike came swiftly towards the car, his eyes darting from one to the other, and he greeted Mr. Lord before he could alight. "Morning, Sir. Anything wrong?"

It was evident that Mike was surprised to see his master.

"No; nothing particularly." Mr. Lord eased himself out of the car. "When I phoned you to say I wouldn't be over until tomorrow morning, with this meeting coming up, I didn't know I was going to run into . . . this." He inclined his head slowly back into the car; then added, "Come on, get out." His voice certainly held no tone of endearment now, conveying only that Mary Ann and all her works were a source of annoyance to him.

Legs first, and with a good display of knickers, she slid from the seat and presented herself to her da, whereupon the wind was drawn in so thinly through Mike's teeth as to make a whistling sound, which spoke of exasperation and caused her heart to sink. He was mad at her; and it was her last day. Oh! it was mean of Mr. Lord, it was.

"Sarah F-lannagan again." There was no sign of the laughter in Mike's voice that had accompanied the name earlier in the morning. "And your new things!"

From her eye level she was looking at the arm where it finished at the end of the sleeve. She wanted to grab it and cry, "Oh, Da! It was because she was saying nasty things . . . bad things about you that I hit her." But Mike's voice forbade any explanation whatever as he said, "Go on home, and see what your mother has to say."

Without looking at either of them she walked away to the sound of Mike's voice saying gruffly, "I'm sorry she put you out, Sir."

The world was all wrong; nothing was right, or ever would be again. Didn't they know it was her last day?

Dismally she took the path to the back door. The only consolation for her now was that things couldn't get worse, anyway not today, for whatever her ma said or did wouldn't be as bad as the way her da had looked at her.

But that there were differing degrees of trouble and that a large portion of the very worst kind awaited her was to be proved within the next minute, for she had hardly entered the scullery before the voice cf her grannie hit her ear and brought to her fa.ce a wide-eyed look of incredulity. Not her grannie ! Not the di^j oh, no! She had never been near since they had come to live in the farmhouse, so she couldn't be here today. No, it couldn't be her grannie !

But it was her grannie. Only too true it was, and the sound of her told Mary Ann to escape, and quickly, for if her grannie saw her like this she would never hear the last of it.

Lifting her feet most cautiously now, she was about to turn and flee when the kitchen door, from being ajar, was pulled wide open, so that her grannie's voice came to her, saying, "Stone floors like these are a death trap. You'll be crippled with rheumatism afore you're here a--" The voice trailed off and Mrs. McMuilen's eyes became fixed on Mary Ann's body caught in the stance of flight. "Well ! So it's you. What are you up too?"

Mary Ann slumped; then closed her eyes as a gasp came from both her grannie and her mother, who, too, was now standing in the doorway.

"Oh! Mary Ann."

If her mother had gone for her it wouldn't have been so bad, but to sound sad like that, and in front of her grannie.

Mrs. McMullen's round, black eyes were moving over her grand-daughter with righteous satisfaction. "Well, you look a mess I must say. But it doesn't surprise me."

Mary Ann moved to her mother.

"How did it happen?"

"I fell, Ma."

"I fell, Ma!" As they stood looking at each other, Mrs. McMullen gave a "Huh ! " of a laugh. "You fell all right; and, of course, you weren't fighting and acting the hooligan."

Lizzie's face became tight, as she turned her back on her mother. But her voice held no reprimand as she said to Mary Ann, "Get your things off and I'll see to them."

Mary Ann got her things off, watched silently by Mrs. McMullen, and when she turned to the sink to wash, her grannie went into the kitchen, but she sent her voice back into the scullery, saying, "If you expect any silk purses to be made out of sows' ears, then I'm afraid you're in for a disappointment. Money down the drain. The man must be in his dotage."

That there wasn't a hair's difference between her grannie and Sarah Flannagan, Mary Ann had always been sure, and now it was confirmed. Silk purses . . . that's what Sarah Flannagan had said.

She saw her mother's hands gripping her coat, and she knew it was because of her grannie. She turned from the sink and tiptoed to her, and with a most pained countenance whispered, "Oh, ma!"

"Shus.h.!.+" Lizzie's finger was on her lips, and when she wagged it warningly Mary Ann, with a hopeless sigh, went back to the sink again.

It was awful . . . awful. How long would her grannie stop? Hours and hours. . . . This was her day; everything should have been lovely; everybody should have been lovely to her; and what had happened? Something had got into it. ... The Devil. She stopped rolling the soap between her hands. But why should he pick on her, and all at once? . . .

Mike's surprise equalled Mary Ann's when he came in and saw his mother-in-law already seated at the dinner table. There were no greetings exchanged between these two; enemies they had been from the beginning and enemies they would remain until the end.

A swift look that held pleading pa.s.sed from Lizzie to Mike, for Mike's entry had not caused even a pause in Mrs. McMullen's discourse. He might have been a figment of Lizzie's and Mary Ann's imagination, so little impression did his presence apparently make on her.

That her grannie's cheap thrusts were now prodding her da, Mary Ann was well aware, and when Lizzie said to her, "Come and sit up," she thought. And if she says any more, I'll say to her, "Shut up, you!" I will ... I don't care.

"Chicken ? Things are looking up ! " Mrs. McMullen's fuzzy head was bent over her plate. "Ah, well, you can afford them when you get them for nothing, I suppose."

"We didn't get it for nothing; me ma bought it cos it's a special dinner the day, for "

"Mary Ann!" Both Mike and Lizzie spoke together, and Mary Ann Towly drew her eyes away from her grandmother. And Mrs. McMullen, with her high, tight, neat bosom swelling, exclaimed, "You should've been a dog, you've got the bark of one!"

"That's enough." Mike's voice was deep and quiet; it rolled over Mary Ann's head like distant thunder. He was standing behind her chair and his hand slid to her shoulder. What was in his eyes she could not see, but whatever it was it quelled the retort on her grannie's lips, and at the same time narrowed her eyes and tightened her face. Yet it did not effectively still her tongue, for she continued to talk, addressing herself solely to her daughter, yet all the while aiming her darts at both her sonin-law and grand-daughter.

"Will I help you?" she called to Lizzie in the scullery. And when Lizzie's reply of, "No, thank you, I can manage," came back to her, she called again, "These floors will be the death of you . . . cold stone. Wait till die winter comes. And the distance you've got to walk! Frying pan into the fire, if you ask me. You were nearly killed by worry afore, now you'll be just as effectively polished off in this place. . . . Like a barracks."

"Start, will you?" Lizzie came hurrying into the kitchen. "Say your grace, Mary Ann. Don't wait for me, anyone, just start. Gravy, Mother?"

"When do you think you'll get all these rooms furnished?"

"Oh, gradually. Gravy, Mike?" Lizzie was seated now, a fixed smile on her face.

Silently Mike took the tureen, and Mary Ann said painfully, "You've given me sprouts, Ma, and you know I don't like them."

"Oh, have I? Well just leave them on the side of your plate."

"Huh! I never did."

There was no need to enquire as to what Mrs. McMullen never did, they all knew it was connected with sprouts and eating them whether you liked them or not. And from the look that the old lady bestowed on her grandchild, it was evident that it would have given her the greatest pleasure to ram the sprouts singly down Mary Ann's gullet.

"It's either all or nothing . . . eight rooms!" Mrs. McMullen had returned to the matter of furnis.h.i.+ngs. "You'll be ready for your old-age pension by the time you get them fixed."

"I don't think so." Lizzie's voice was even. "I'm going to the sales. ... At sales you can often pick up bargains."

Mrs. McMullen's hands paused while conveying a piece of the breast of chicken to her mouth. "Bargains ! Don't be silly; those auctioneer fellows are crooks and fakers. Just read what they are up to in the papers. Faking pictures and furniture."

"Well, as I won't be wanting that kind of thing, it won't trouble me." Lizzie still wore her smile. "Do you want some more stuffing, Mary Ann? And you can pick your bone up in your fingers."

Mary Ann picked up the chicken bone and proceeded to strip it. It was nice and sweet. She loved chicken wing, especially where the skin stuck to the bone at the end. She was dissecting the last piece of anatomy when she gave an unintentional suck, loud enough to bring all eyes on her and, of course, her grannie's voice.

/ "Well, it's to be hoped they show you how to eat, if nothing else!" Mike's eyes, like flashes of fire, darted to the old woman. But Mrs. McMullen's eyes were lowered to her plate and she continued her discourse regarding the furnis.h.i.+ng of rooms. "Well, even if you get them furnished, what'll they be for, she's going?" This was accompanied by a bland nod towards Mary Ann. "And once she gets a taste of a fancy school, you needn't think this place'll hold her after a few years. And if I know Michael he'll be off as soon as he can, and there you'll be left, eight rooms for two of you. That's if you're here, of course."

As she spoke the last words Mike's chair sc.r.a.ped loudly on the stone floor, and almost at the same time, Lizzie, the armour of her smile now gone, jumped to her feet, saying, hurriedly, "I'll bring the pudding in. Mike . . . Mike!" She had to repeat his name to draw his eyes away from her mother's bent head. "Mike, come and give me a hand . . . Mike!"