Wuthering Heights

head,” said
Cathy.
    ‘ “Then let me untie your
head,” I said. Then Cathy came down to the kitchen and kissed me. I was
flour-making the Christmas cake. She hugged me and the Christmas cake came off
on her. Then she looked round for Heathcliff.
    ‘ “Is Heathcliff not here?”
she asked, pulling off her gloves, displaying wonderfully white fingers caused
by doing nothing and staying indoors!
    ‘ “Heathcliff, come
forward,” cried Hindley. “If you can’t come forward, come sideways!” Catching a
glimpse of the Pakistani, Cathy flew to embrace him, and the Christmas cake came
off on him. She bestowed several or eight kisses on him, but, overwhelmed by
the smell of curry, she drew back, and laughed. “Why, how black you are and
grim.”
    ‘ “Shake hands,
Heathcliff,” said Mr Earnshaw. Heathcliff shook his hands.
    ‘ “Now, what?” he said.
    ‘ “I didn’t mean to laugh
at you,” said Cathy. “It’s only that you’re so dirty.”
    ‘ “I’ll be as dirty as I
please,” he said, stuffing his hand down his trousers and scratching his balls.
“Yes, I’ll be a dirty bugger,” he cried, throwing himself head foremost out of
the room, and landing on it outside.’
    ‘After all this, I put my
cakes in the oven for Christmas. I prepared to sit down and amuse myself by
singing carols all alone for which the doctor had given me tablets to take
until I was better. I remember how old Mr Earnshaw would slip threepence into
my hand as a Christmas box, the mean bastard. One morning Heathcliff came to
me,
    ‘ “Nelly, make me decent,
make me clean.”
    ‘So I started on him with
sandpaper and linseed oil and, Mr Lockwood, he looked splendid! I talked to
him, “Who knows but your father was the Emperor of China, and your mother an
Indian queen, and you were kidnapped by wicked sailors.”
    ‘ “You’ve got it wrong. My
father was a dustman in Bombay,” said Heathcliff, “All I want is for Cathy and
me to get a corner shop in Leeds.”
    ‘Outside, the Lintons and
the Earnshaws were arriving back from church.
    ‘ “Bloody good sermon,”
said Mr Linton. Hindley entered the room. On seeing Heathcliff all clean he
said,
    ‘Quelle horreur.” For reason of snobbishment
he spoke in French. “Keep that garçon out of this chambre .”

     
    ‘Master Linton entered.
Seeing Heathcliff he said, “It’s the curry garçon.” Heathcliff seized a
tureen of porridge and threw it in the boy’s face. Cathy rushed in.
    ‘ “Heathcliff,” she
shrieked. “What have you done?”
    ‘ “I’ve just done him,” he
said.
    ‘Seeing Master Linton
covered in porridge, Cathy said, “You’re wearing our breakfast.”
    ‘Heathcliff took Cathy by
the hand. “Come, let us go and buy a corner shop.”
    ‘Hindley grabbed Heathcliff
and flung him upstairs. “A tout à l’heure” he shouted after him.
    ‘ “Fuck vous,” came
the reply.
    ‘Poor Master Linton was
crying. “Don’t cry,” said Cathy. “It will ruin the porridge.”
    ‘After lunch, we were
entertained by the Gimmerton band. Mrs Earnshaw loved the music and danced
round the fire holding a chair; everyone agreed she looked like an idiot. Cathy
said that music sounded better from upstairs, where she fled. I followed her:
she went to the garret where Heathcliff was confined, she looked through the
keyhole and could see Heathcliff on his prayer mat worshipping towards Mecca.
She then clambered over the roof and had got into his room through the
skylight. 10 Downstairs Mrs Earnshaw was now dancing with a table and later the grandfather
clock; it was good clean Victorian fun, which made the heart joyous. Alas! the
clock fell on her at exactly one-thirty p.m. In Heathcliff’s garret, Cathy asked
him why he was bobbing up and down. “I am praying to Allah.”
    ‘ “Won’t he keep still?
Oh,” said Cathy, “where is he?”
    ‘ “He’s dead,” said
Heathcliff.
    ‘Cathy looked puzzled, she
laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? Shouldn’t you see a doctor?”
    ‘I let the couple converse
uninterrupted, then I told them the coast was clear, in case they wanted to go
there, and they both came down into the kitchen. He had not eaten since
yesterday’s vindaloo. I set him on a stool by the fire, I offered him a quantity
of good things, a carriage clock, a travelling case, camera, a set of
monogrammed golf clubs, a cuddly toy. “No, I’m not hungry,” he said. “All I
want is to pay Hindley back, he has beaten me