Wuthering Heights

to give you a
fright,’ she said.
    ‘He must have had some ups
and down in his life,’ I said.
    ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He used
to be a lift attendant.’ Excited by this information, I asked for more. ‘Very
well,’ she said, folding her arms and putting them on her knitting basket. ‘I
used to be at Wuthering Heights.’
    ‘So, you used to be at
Wuthering Heights.’
    ‘I used to play with the
children, and I used to run errands too,’ she said.
    ‘So,’ I said, ‘you used to
run errands too?’
    ‘Yes, they never let me
walk.’
    ‘So, they never let you
walk,’ I said.
    ‘Look!’ she said, shaking
me by the throat. ‘For Christ’s sake, will you stop interrupting.’ For a while
I lay on the floor doing sit-ups.
    ‘One fine summer morning’,
she continued, ‘Mr Earnshaw, the old master, came down dressed for a journey.
He wore a tram driver’s uniform. “You going by tram?” we said. “No,” he said,
“I’m going by uniform.” He turned to Hindley and Cathy. “Now, I’m going to
Liverpool. What shall I bring you?” Hindley named a fiddle, he named it Dick.
Cathy chose a whip, for strict discipline. The lunatic set off to walk sixty
miles there, and sixty back. We waved him goodbye, some waved him goodbye for
ever. He was gone three days, then one midnight he returned. He threw himself
at a chair and missed.
    ‘He opened his great coat,
holding a bundle in his arms. We crowded round to see a dark, ragged
blackhaired child. “Aye up!” said Mrs Earnshaw. “Aye,” said Mr Earnshaw. The
child was talking in a language we could not understand. “It’s Pakistani.” The
master tried to explain. The children refused to have the child in bed with
them or even in the room. They called him Heathcliff. Bit by bit, they got used
to him. First a bit of his leg, a bit of his arm, bit of his teeth and so on,
he got on very well with Cathy, and said one day they would open up a corner
shop in Leeds. To Cathy it was magic!
    ‘Hindley hated him and
frequently rendered the boy senseless with an iron bar. Then Heathcliff went
ill with measle, just one measle. I stayed by his bed all night, every hour
giving him spoonfuls of curry. Despite this, he recovered. By now we all doted
on him, he was covered with dote marks. Hindley hated him, he had seen him
naked in the bath, and was jealous of his porportions.
    ‘Then Mrs Earnshaw died,
worn out with making curry for Heathcliff. Cathy and her brother love practical
jokes like practising setting fire to me. Mr Earnshaw bought a couple of
horses, a lover of horse flesh, he looked forward to eating one. Heathcliff
took one and Hindley the other. But Heathcliff’s horse went lame in the teeth
that kept falling out. “You must exchange the horses,” said Heathcliff. Hindley
gave Heathcliff his horse. “You better hurry up and ride it, because Mr
Earnshaw is having it for dinner.” ’

Chapter
V
    - ------------
     
     
     
    N THE COURSE of time Mr Earnshaw
started to fail. Only that morning he had failed to come down with his trousers
on, his strength suddenly left him: it left by the back door.
    People in the street would
say, “Look, there goes Mr Earnshaw’s strength.” Mr Earnshaw said he was worried
about the welfare of Heathcliff after he died. I said after he died Heathcliff
wouldn’t need any welfare. “No, no, I mean after my death,” said Mr
Earnshaw. There was talk of sending Heathcliff to school, but no school would
take him. Heathcliff was delighted. No, his was a free, wild life on the moors
making chapattis and tandoori on the wood fire.
    ‘Cathy was much too fond of
Heathcliff. The greatest punishment would be for her to be kept separate from
Heathcliff. When they were they had to be prised apart with a crowbar.
    ‘Now, Mr Earnshaw did not
understand jokes. Cathy said, “I say, I say, I say, what’s a Jewish dilemma?”
Earnshaw didn’t know. “It’s pork chops at half price,” 9 she said. By now overwhelmed by Cathy’s jokes, Heathcliff
was completely under her spell. He would do her bidding in anything. After
behaving badly all day, she would come innocent fondling to make it up at
night. “Stop that innocent fondling, and get your clothes on,” said old
Earnshaw. “Go, say thy prayers to the Lord, now piss off.” So happily she
pissed off.
    ‘But not long after, Mr
Earnshaw too pissed off; he died quietly, so quietly no one heard him go. “I
can’t hear anything,” said Cathy. “That must be him