Mrs. Clapham

“ Emma’s glance left her neighbour’s face and rose to the mantelpiece, where Poor Stephen, in khaki, looked from a silver frame. Mrs. Clapham’s glance followed suit, and it seemed to her that the sad eyes shifted as the mother’s gaze came up.... She had winced again at Emma’s last words, and begun her usual rubbing of knees. In common with many women during the Great War, she had felt ashamed of not owning a son to add to the general loss. Stephen and Tibbie had done their best to make her feel that Stephen was really hers, but there was no getting past the fact that he was really Emma’s. ”

“ I don’t know as she’ll take to it just at first—being a lady and all that; but there, I reckon she knows her own business best.... She isn’t as young as she was, neither, and folks as works over hard wear out ter’ble fast. Ay, she’ll get t’ house, will Ann Clapham; there’s no doubt about that.”
There was another uncomfortable pause when she had finished, and Mrs. Clapham cast an uneasy glance at her over her shoulder. What Emma was saying sounded all right—at least, for Emma—so she was at a loss to understand why it should fill her with apprehension. ”

“ Emma had finished her setting of her sorrowful prisoners to rights, and was now returned to her post at the table. (Would she never sit? Mrs. Clapham wondered exasperatedly.) “You’re not as lish on your feet for one thing—I’ve noticed that. Think on how you kicked table-leg or summat when you come in. And there’s a look about you I don’t like, same as I’ve seen in a deal of folks as was quick took off. What, there was one day I see you coming back from your job, I was feared you’d drop down dead in the street! ”

“ Led by Martha Jane, they would certainly laugh it to scorn, or, even if they did not laugh, they would refuse to believe. It took some believing, too, Mrs. Clapham was bound to admit, with Emma’s round little face expressing venom in every line. But then, even if she had come to repent, you could not expect her to change all through; and, repentance once granted, it was easy to argue that, the unkinder she had been to Stephen, the kinder she would probably be to his orphaned children. It was always the converts who went to the farthest extremes ”

“ Nature, at least, did not pass it by. But Emma Catterall’s house, with which Nature would have nothing to do, ought not to have been dirty, and was certainly not poor. Financially, she was said to be better off than anybody in the street, and her furniture, though neglected, was most of it good and sound. Out of the tail of her eye Mrs. Clapham could see a bow-fronted chest of drawers which she would almost have given her almshouse to possess; and she felt pretty sure that Emma’s own bedroom would be comfortable enough, whatever sort of a hole she had thought fit for Stephen. ”

“ That’s why I’m all donned out in my Sunday black!” she finished with an apologetic smile.
A second sigh that had begun as an outsize in Emma’s mouth issued in miniature on the soft September air. She nodded gently.
“I don’t know as it isn’t wise. Things don’t always come off, and it don’t do to chance a slip.... Seems to me, though, you might spare a minute to step in. You’ve all afternoon before you, and you can do a deal o’ looking in that.”
Mrs. Clapham hesitated a moment longer, and then capitulated. Even the Emmas of life were hardly to be refused on this her beautiful day. ”

“ All the way behind her as she went the bells clanged and clamoured Miss Marigold’s joy, and Mrs. Clapham smiled as she listened to them, and then wept as well, because of that note of finality in the wedding-peal which is almost all that the married woman hears. The passion of its rejoicing speaks so vehemently of something brought to an end, a road closed, a door shut, a sharp cutting as with a knife. The joy of the wedding-peal must needs be emphatic and loud, because it is a joy that demands utter fearlessness if it is to remain joy at all. ”

“ Mrs. Clapham’s expression had changed and become grave and a trifle bitter; and again, as if picking up a cue, Mrs. Tanner found one to match it.
“Ay, he had a terribly thin time of it, had Stephen—I don’t mind giving you that. She wasn’t kind to him, wasn’t Emma. Yet I don’t know as she ever laid a hand on him, as far as I’ve heard tell. Yon half-daft father of his did, so they said, but I make nowt o’ that. A boy never frets himself much over that sort o’ thing. It’s all just in the day’s work.”
“Nay, it was something a deal worse.” The charwoman’s kind face was troubled and puzzled. ”

“ The colour flashed into Mrs. Clapham’s face, and she stammered helplessly, looking away. It had never occurred to her that Emma might wish to be present, and the very thought of it was abhorrent. Yet what could seem more natural than that they should go together—the two mothers—the two grandmothers?... Nevertheless, it was simply not to be thought of that Emma should stand beside Tibbie’s grave....
“Nay, you’d best bide at home,” she answered her firmly, though very uncomfortably. “It’s a longish way, you’ll think on, and funerals is always a trying business for folks as is getting old.” ”

“ The latter threw her a “Well, Emma, how do you find yourself this morning?” with the heartiness of a bluff English sea-dog to some cynical Spanish don, and then turned again to the street. It was Martha Jane who finally broke the uncomfortable silence with her usual patter of mocking speech.
“Save us, Emma Catterall! You don’t mean to say you’ve ventured out to see what’s coming to me and Mrs. Clapham? I wonder the skies don’t fall—I do that! Me and Mrs. Clapham feel real honoured, I’m sure. You’re in plenty of time if you want to know; you’ll be in at the death ”

“ When Stephen was killed, they said in Whalley that he had always looked as though the hand of death was never far from his tragic face, but those who had known him as a child knew it was never a little thing like death that had made Stephen afraid....
Mrs. Clapham had once been to Whalley to pay her daughter a visit, and once Tibbie and the children had come to Mrs. Clapham, but on neither side had the visit been repeated. One had her charing to think of, and the other her sewing, and both had their other supremely important reasons.... ”

“ It’d ha’ been as easy as wink if I’d had my Tibbie.”
“You’ll ha’ heard from Stephen’s wife lately, I reckon?” Emma inquired casually, and again Mrs. Clapham winced. It was so like Emma, that reaching out and laying a finger on your most precious treasure.... “Nay, I haven’t heard for a goodish bit,” she answered stiffly, looking away. “She’s always a good deal to do, what with her job and her children an’ all.”
“Children take a deal o’ seeing to,” Emma agreed smoothly. “They’re a deal o’ work. Nobody knows what having their hands full means till they’ve one about.” ”

“ Even in her excitement Mrs. Tanner had time for a spasm of admiration. “Eh, but it seems a shame to put the likes of her in an almshouse!” she said to herself; and then forgot the impression in her eagerness for a reply.
“Nay, I’ve heard nowt yet!” Mrs. Clapham was one broad smile. “I doubt it’s hardly time. Folks as sit on committees and suchlike don’t get up as soon as us!”
Mrs. Tanner gave the nod of pained but tolerant comprehension with which one class salutes the idiosyncrasies of another. ”

“ Emma responded, gloating over the half-angry face before her. “Them kind o’ last words is often enough somebody else’s second thoughts.... Not but what you’ve the best right, as you say,” she continued smoothly, seeing the charwoman’s eyes flash. “Likely you’ve wrote Committee a letter by now, telling ’em you accept?”
“Nay, what, I never thought about it, I’m sure!” Mrs. Clapham answered, suddenly crestfallen. “I’ve been that busy shaking hands wi’ myself, I’ve had no time for nowt else.... But they’ll know I’ll accept right enough,” she added, plucking up spirit. ”

“ Wrench’ll be rarely troubled when he hears t’ news,” Emma said; “ay, and t’ parson’s wife an’ all. They always made out to think the world o’ your Tibbie when she was here. It’ll put ’em about to hear as it’s happened while they’ve been off at the wedding.”
“She made Miss Marigold a pale blue crêpe de Chine,” Mrs. Clapham said, and suddenly she began the eternal rubbing at her poor knees. A tear from the fount which she had thought dry welled swiftly, and ran down her stiff cheek. “And nowt for herself, my bonny lass, but a linen shroud!” ”

“ Clapham chuckled, her natural good temper responding at once to the other’s change of tone. “I don’t know as it’d be quite nice to go on filling up charity-houses as long as that.... But it grubs me a bit, you piling it on as I’m over old for my job. Come to that, you’re only four or five year younger yourself!”
“I’ve had a deal easier life, though,” Emma returned, in the same unprovocative tone, “a deal easier, you’ll think on. I’ve never had to do a hand’s turn for anybody but my own. You was in service ten year or more afore you was wed, and then, after Jonty died, you took to this job. ”

“ Clapham thought, with a shiver, and possibly pretending to herself that they had suddenly been re-filled....
Seated uneasily in her chair, she hardly knew where to turn, for, repugnant as she always found it to look at Emma, it was even more distressing to look at the room. It was always something of a trial to her to go into other folks’ “spots,” because they so seldom came up to her personal standard. More than once, when calling upon a sick neighbour, she had scrubbed the house from ceiling to floor ”

“ Clapham lifted her glance to the hard little face. Emma’s eyes were certainly bright, and her cheeks flushed, but she hardly looked as if she had been giving way to turbulent grief.
“Of course, you might say it was a deal worse for me when my poor lad was killed in France, but there was things to make up for it, all the same. There was glory, and folks taking off their hats, and all suchlike, as his lordship said. But there isn’t anything cheering o’ that sort when folks die same as Stephen’s wife.” ”

“ On no account must Emma attend the funeral, the something said, but for the life of her she could not tell what the impediment was to be.
“You’re not so well, neither—not fit to go alone. Mrs. James said you’d twisted your knee.”
“A bit of a wrench, happen,” was the unwilling admission. “I’ll be right enough soon.”
“Anyway, I could help a bit if I came along,” Emma persisted. “There’s always a deal to do at a burying; always a sight o’ work. There’ll be the children to bring back an’ all.”
“The children?” Mrs. Clapham sat up straight as a dart at that, her eyes nearly as bright as Emma’s. ”

“ Clapham’s simple, orderly spirit it was hard to say which was worse. And suddenly she felt that, muddle or mockery, she wasn’t able to bear it. The child in her which had played with the toys of old Mr. T. rose and clung stubbornly to the House of Dreams.
Emma was talking again, she found, still standing there, still filling her with that hatred of God and her roundabout self.
“They don’t take children in almshouses, so I’m told. They don’t want ’em; it wouldn’t do. Folks as is ready for almshouses is ready for rest, and there wouldn’t be that much rest, wi’ children always about. ”

“ He has done me and Hannah, too. Mr. Speck, the artist, says he is a wonder at drawing.
Our little Clive has been to London on a visit to his uncles and to Clapham, to pay his duty to his step-grandmother, the wealthy Mrs. Newcome. She was very gracious to him, and presented him with a five pound note, a copy of Kirk White's poems and a work called Little Henry and his Bearer, relating to India, and the excellent catechism of our Church. Clive is full of humour, and I enclose you a rude scrap representing the Bishopess of Clapham, as Mrs. Newcome is called. ”

“ The next day, being engaged, I let Rudd go over to Clapham to see what he could do.
He made a mess of things. The lady was pointed out to him by one of her fellow assistants. Before he could get within hail of her, she slipped round a corner and was out of sight. Came across her again in a restaurant where she couldn’t pay her bill. Paid it for her. Then, as he was about to follow her, with a view of pursuing his inquiries, he saw, standing on the pavement in front of the place, the individual who had cursed us on that moonlit shore. ”

“ Lewisham turned over sharply without finishing that page.
“My life at Clapham,” continued the letter, “has irked me for some time, and to tell you the truth, the spectacle of your vigorous young happiness—you are having a very good time, you know, fighting the world—reminded me of the passing years. To be frank in self-criticism, there is more than a touch of the New Woman about me, and I feel I have still to live my own life. What a beautiful phrase that is—to live one’s own life!—redolent of honest scorn for moral plagiarism. ”

“ Clapham had anything to do with either Stephen or Stephen’s children; not even, indeed, with Stephen’s widow. In the case of the children the exclusion was made even more pointed by the continual dwelling upon that unhappy likeness. It was perfectly true that in those sad little photographs which Emma handled so gloatingly there wasn’t a trace of Tibbie or Tibbie’s mother. All the love or the hatred in the world couldn’t deny the stock from which they sprang. Undoubtedly they were Emma’s grandchildren more than they were Mrs. ”

“ Emma continued to wail from behind her screen. “Supposing I did treat the poor lad as I hadn’t ought, d’ye think I haven’t repented it long since? D’you think I wasn’t haunted by it, waking and sleeping, all yon time he was out at t’ War? It’s easy to judge other folk, Ann Clapham, but there’s a deal o’ things hidden away as outsiders don’t see. Folks as don’t think a deal o’ their husbands don’t always care for their children, neither. You’ve seen a bit o’ human nature in your time, and you know that as well as me. Happen I didn’t treat Stephen right, but I’ve paid for it ever since. ”