I did not go to the warehouse this morning, as I wished to discuss this sad business of the inventory with Liam. My wife is right, we are in many ways too similar to make an easy partnership. I have not been fair to him, and he has reason enough to be cool with me. Besides, I had a visit yesterday from a young woman called Molly. When I found she worked at that place, I almost refused to see her, but she begged so fervently for a short audience with me, that I relented.
I was still thinking how to act on what she had to say, but at least I was sure of one thing, I had to put this matter right with Liam, for his own sake as much as mine. If it is true and he has unwittingly fallen into bad company (or perhaps I should say, worse) then he may be owed an apology as well as greater understanding.
I came into my study ten minutes ago and paused to adjust the curtains. The girl had left them drawn again, the fabric spoiling in the sun, and I thought to myself, not for the first time, that she is getting careless and slovenly in her work. Little did I know how she was being distracted.
Looking out of the window, I saw Liam standing in the shadow of the porch. His clothing was disarranged, as if he had thrown it on in a hurry, or just arrived home from another night spent drinking in that iniquitous tavern. His shirt hung loose and he wore an unbuttoned waistcoat. His coat was nowhere to be seen. He came to the edge of the garden and waited.
Curious, I paused for a moment and watched. Anna came into view. She carried a bucket and must have been going to fetch some water for her mistress. My heart sank as I watched Liam as his eyes followed her. I didn't need to hear him speak too know what was happening between them. He tried to coax her over, but she refused, and said she was busy and he would have to come to her. She smiled at him over her shoulder as she walked away, and I had to rush out to stop him following her and indulging in who knows what debauchery within sight of his own father's home.
Bitter words passed between us. He accused me later of striking him, which I don't recall. But I remember at the end Anna came back carrying the full pail and his eyes were drawn to her. I lost my temper. I screamed that I would not allow it, and that I would send him abroad before I would see him with a girl of that kind. To make sure no-one was unaware of my opinion, I named the kind.
I can see her pale face now, as she turns away from my anger, and towards Liam for comfort or support. I step between them and tell her to go quickly to her room. Then I turn to Liam and tell him to go back inside and dress properly. He looks for a moment as if he'll defy me and I have to take a step towards him before he backs away.
Deep down, I know he's a good-natured lad at heart. If I were thinking rationally, I would acknowledge that Anna is not a whore, that these things have happened before amongst young people in other households just as god-fearing as ours. I would admit that leaving him idle at home for these long summer weeks was not sensible and I am partly to blame. But my heart aches with too much trouble, too much grief, and Liam, my son, who seems to have nothing but unrestrained appetites where morals should be, seems to be the root of it all. In my present mood, I can give neither of them the credit they are due.
I tell Anna she must leave the house immediately. I give her some money, and tell her to take what belongings she can carry. If there is anything else (I am doubtful whether this could be so) she can let me know a forwarding address and I will send it on at a more convenient time.
She is crying, but she doesn't argue with me. I wait as she gathers a few things together and follow her out of the front door. I watch until she is out of sight.