The Long Corridor

  ‘Then go out into the church, go to Our Lady’s altar and begin on the sorrowful mysteries. I’ll be with you shortly. Now make a firm, firm act of contrition.’

  She hadn’t said an act of contrition for years, but the words came back to her mind as if she had only used them yesterday: ‘Oh, my God, I am very sorry that I have sinned against thee because thou art so good and by the help of thy Holy Grace I will not sin again. Amen.

  ‘Thank you, Father.’

  She went straight out of the box and made straight for the church door, and from there she hurried up the dark street. She was no fool, she told herself; that was why she was glad there had been people going in after her, it would keep him occupied for a time. She had done what she had felt compelled to do, and her conscience was at rest, and that was all there was to it. He might look in the paper to find the suicides. Well, there was never a week went by but there was a number of them…Death from Misadventure. Death while the balance of the mind was disturbed. He had served his purpose. She wasn’t goin’ to have him haunt her for the rest of her life, however long or short that was. What she had done was, as she had told him, atween her and God, and she would do it the morrow again if called upon. And now she must get back to himself for he’d be feeling lost in the house on his own. It wasn’t good for a man to be on his own…Yet better that than have his brain turned and have him do something he’d suffer for.

  As she got out of the bus and went towards the station the thought came to her that if by accident she should happen on Miss Jenny’s address there’d be no harm in droppin’ her a line to ask if she was enjoyin’ her holiday, and to say what a great pity it was about the missis. She had always known that the poor plain body was a bit taken with himself, and she’d had proof of it when she’d gone and got her nose done, but she hadn’t imagined for one minute that that little snipe had been aware of it. And then for her to throw it in the poor soul’s face as she had done the morning she left…Well, she was where the good God pleased at this minute and she’d try to think no more ill of her. Her concern now was with the living, with one human being, to see him settled and happy afore her time came. She had always seen to his needs as far as it lay in her power. Hadn’t she manoeuvred Ivy into his bed? She had made the excuse that she couldn’t do the stairs, knowing that a full-blooded young widow like Ivy couldn’t wash a man down and remain cool; an’ hadn’t she been right? She only wished to God Ivy had come into the house years ago. But now from what she could gather Ivy was no longer in the picture, and all things considered it was just as well, for he could never have married her. No, that would never have done. An’ she herself wouldn’t have stood for it…Ivy as mistress of the house! That would have been more intolerable than seeing him sacrifice himself to a dirty disease-ridden woman. But with Miss Jinny…well, she was a different kettle of fish. She would know her place and realise that the kitchen, particularly the larder, was a very minor part of it.

  As she gave the porter her ticket she said it was a nice evening and it was good to see the days drawing out, and he said in reply, it was indeed. And he told her to be careful how she went for she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. It was thoughtful of him to tell her to be careful; people were kind. Oh, aye, people were kind.

  As she sat in the train she wished she was home; she didn’t think she’d ever visit Newcastle again, and she told herself she wouldn’t miss much.

  At Fellburn station she hailed a taxi to take her to the house. And why not, why not indeed! The circumstances, she felt, warranted such a luxury; it wasn’t every day in her life she went to confession.

  When she entered the house by the kitchen door she sensed immediately that there was company in; the kettle wasn’t in the place where she had left it, and there was the coffee tin on the table and three cups missing from the rack.

  She had just taken off her hat and coat, put on her apron and made her way to the stove when the door opened, and as she turned and looked at Jenny and himself standing side by side, there entered into her a beautiful feeling. It was as if her body was filled with light; it was a good feeling and she took it for a sign of God’s utter forgiveness; that Miss Jenny was back in the house at this time showed that the Almighty, like herself, was working towards one end. And she thanked Him as she went forward, her hands outstretched towards Jenny, for she said, ‘Thanks be to God.’

  The End