The Unbaited Trap

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Father. Will you listen just a moment?’ He had stood with his elbows pressed tight against his sides, his hands spread out in front of his chest, but John, ignoring the plea, went on, ‘I know how you feel. I’m well aware of the fix you’re in…I’ve been in it myself, so I know all about it. One thing I ask of you: give her a message from me, will you? Tell her…tell her that she’s got to take happiness, grab it with both hands. Tell her I’m happy for her, will you; will you tell her that?’

  He had remained silent as he returned his father’s fixed stare. It was no good, it was no good protesting, one way or the other. The only thing to do was to let them think what they liked, only time would prove them wrong. But in the meantime they would both be as miserable as hell. Well, he had done his best. All the talking in the world wouldn’t convince them. It was just one of those unbelievable things that happened; surmise became stamped with truth because he had apparently spoken her Christian name. He put out his hand, and John took it and held it fast for a moment.

  ‘Get well,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.’ John smiled at him as he looked into his face. ‘Goodbye, Laurie.’

  ‘Goodbye, Father. Goodbye.’

  He had turned away, then stopped as John’s fingers touched his arm. ‘You’ll write and tell me how things go?’

  He drooped his head slightly before half turning it over his shoulder and nodding. Then he was running down the gangway and onto the quay.

  Their faces were now getting smaller. His father was waving all the time, his mother intermittently. Soon it was no use standing any longer. He turned slowly away and, going to his car, drove back to the house.

  When he got into the hall Mrs Stringer came from the kitchen, saying, ‘Well, they got off then, Mr Laurie?’

  ‘Yes, Stringy.’

  ‘Did they have a comfortable room?’

  ‘Marvellous, almost as big as the lounge. Home from home.’

  ‘You’re jokin’.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s a fact. Bathroom, shower, the lot, and the place swamped with flowers.’

  ‘Aw, how nice. I hope it will do them both good…Well now, I’ve set your lunch in the breakfast room, Mr Laurie, and I’ve put all your clean things out on the bed ready for packin’.’

  As she was talking he bent forward over the hall table and looked at his face in the oval mirror. Even after a month it hadn’t fallen back into shape. He doubted if it ever would. He touched his left eyebrow with his fingers as he looked with a sideways motion at Mrs Stringer through the glass and said, ‘I won’t be going tomorrow, Stringy.’

  ‘Oh now, now, Mr Laurie, it’s all arranged; your uncle’s expecting you and the missus was on the phone not ten minutes afore she left telling them what time you’d get there.’

  ‘I’m going to ring them now, Stringy.’

  ‘But why, Mr Laurie?’

  ‘I’ll explain in a minute.’ He sat down on the gold-coloured cane chair near the telephone table and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Hello,’ he said after a moment. ‘Is that Uncle Ron?’

  ‘Yes, Laurie. What’s the news?’

  ‘They got away all right,’ he answered. ‘Splendid cabin…They’ll be living it up for weeks.’

  The heavy voice from the other end of the line now asked, ‘When’re you setting out? We’re all waiting for you. The girls have got you booked up for the next three weeks, God help you.’

  ‘Uncle?’

  ‘Yes, Laurie.’

  ‘Uncle, I’m sorry I won’t be able to come.’

  ‘What’s that? Did I hear you say you won’t be able to come? What’s the matter, you haven’t taken bad again, have you? Ann was on the phone to Susan first thing this morning telling her you’d be leaving in the morning. What’s the matter? What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s just this way, Uncle. I’m, I’m going into hospital; I believe I’m going to lose the sight of one eye.’

  ‘God almighty! But your mother…why…?’

  ‘She didn’t know. Neither of them knew. I didn’t tell them. They wouldn’t have gone, and everything was booked up, and Father needed to get away.’

  ‘But an eye. Is it certain?’

  ‘They think so. Anyway it won’t matter, for I’ve hardly been able to see anything with it since I…I was hurt. It was a blow on the temple apparently that caused it.’

  ‘Oh, lad, this is terrible. Look, do you want Susan to come down there and see to you?’

  ‘No, no. You see, I’ll be in hospital, and I don’t know for how long.’

  ‘Well this is a shock. I don’t know what Susan’s going to say, she’s out at the moment. Oh, I am sorry about this, Laurie. And do you know something? I think you should have told your father.’

  ‘It couldn’t have helped, and I didn’t want to give him any more worry at this stage.’

  ‘No, no. I see your point. But oh my God, boy, I’m right sorry for you…Look, when it’s over will you come though?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’d be glad to.’

  ‘And you’ll keep us informed?’

  ‘Yes, I will, Uncle.’

  ‘But what if you go to this new house? When is that going to take place?’

  ‘Oh, not for another three weeks, and Stringy’s here to see to things as usual. She’s doing all the packing and going over there and putting things to rights. She’ll have everything more than ship-shape by the time they come back. In the meantime, she’s looking after me fine.’

  ‘Laurie, I don’t know what to say; you’ve knocked the wind completely out of my sails.’

  ‘Oh, don’t take it like that, Uncle, I feel I’ve been lucky; it could have been both of them.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s the way to look at it I suppose. But nevertheless it’s a tragedy. I’ll get your aunt to phone you as soon as she comes in, eh?’

  ‘All right, Uncle.’

  ‘Goodbye, lad.’

  ‘Goodbye, Uncle.’

  When he put the phone down he heard a small sound from the kitchen door and there stood Mrs Stringer with her two hands cupping her face, her compact body swaying slightly from side to side.

  ‘Oh, Mr Laurie. Oh, Mr Laurie.’

  ‘Now, now, it’s all right.’

  ‘And for you to let them go and not tell them.’

  ‘It’s better this way, isn’t it?’ He put his arm around her shoulders and led her back into the kitchen, saying, ‘There, there. Now don’t you start howling.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Laurie.’

  ‘Look,’ he said; ‘I’m hungry and I want some lunch. Come on.’ He pushed her playfully towards the stove. ‘Give me the dishes, I’ll carry them in.’

  As she handed him the vegetable dishes she looked up into his face and muttered again, ‘Oh, Mr Laurie. Oh, Mr Laurie.’

  A few minutes later, sitting in lonely state eating his lunch, he put his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand, bringing his fingers as he did so over his left eye. Oh, Mr Laurie. Oh, Mr Laurie. It was funny what sympathy did to you. It probed the soft spots, the fear spots, and there were more than one of those under his skin at the present moment. The only way for him to tackle this thing was on the side, so to speak, treat it as something unpleasant but necessary, that had to be done, like having a tooth out. There were two things he had to steer clear of, sympathy from others and resentment against the source and cause of his condition.

  It was funny, the little things, the little decisions and actions that led up to losing an eye. That was the way to look at it…philosophically, as if it had had to be and nothing he could have done would have prevented it. That was the only line to take.

  It was as he finished his meal that he heard the doorbell ring and Stringy go to answer it, and then her voice, high and indignant, saying, ‘The family’s all gone, Mr Wilcox. There’s no-one here, they’ve all gone.’

  ‘All but one, Mrs Stringer, and I’ll thank you to get out of my way.’

  Laurie rose to hi
s feet and went to the morning-room door, and from there, looking across the hall, he said evenly, ‘It’s all right, Stringy. Let Mr Wilcox in.’

  James Wilcox came in, his step slow and heavy like that of a man twice his size. He kept his eyes on Laurie even while he passed him and went into the room, and there he continued to stare at him, seeming to derive satisfaction from what he saw.

  During a long tense moment in which Laurie returned the older man’s glare neither of them spoke. Then James Wilcox, clearing his throat, began, ‘You knew I wouldn’t let you get away with this, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’ve been expecting you.’

  ‘Then you’re not disappointed, are you? I thought I’d wait till they got off, so you wouldn’t have any skirts to hide behind.’

  As Laurie ground his teeth Wilcox went on, ‘I blame her as much as anybody, she’s spoilt you since you were born and she suckled you until you went into long pants…’

  ‘I’m going to give you a warning, and take heed. I’m past taking anything more from you. Just another crack like that and I’ll take you by the scruff of the neck and throw you out of the door…And I mean it.’

  ‘I would like to see you try it on, young man. Like all your breed you’re gutless.’ He tugged at his waistcoat and drew in a deep breath. ‘Well, I came here to tell you what I think of you and to pass on two items of news that you’d better pay heed to…The first one is that my daughter has broken off her engagement to you…You understand, SHE’S BROKEN OFF HER ENGAGEMENT TO YOU because of your carry-on with the Thorpe woman…’

  ‘Oh…Oh no, you don’t.’ Laurie’s face was scarlet, and digging his index finger towards Wilcox’s chest, he cried, ‘You set that tale about and I’ll have you up in court before you know where you are, and on the wrong side of the Bench this time.’

  ‘Try it on, try it on, and we’ll see who wins.’ Mr Wilcox’s head was wagging as if on wires. ‘It’s public knowledge now that your father was visiting that woman for months, and now everyone knows that you were seeing her on the side too. It’s a public scandal…and, and my daughter finding this out wouldn’t stand for it. That’s the story, and you try to alter it in this town and see how far you get. It’s also current news that one of her fancy men beat you up and deposited you on her doorstep.’

  Laurie only just stopped himself from springing on the older man, but he moved towards him, and his fists clenched and held stiffly by his sides, he growled at him, ‘Nobody’s fancy man beat me up. It was Bolton’s thugs who beat me up, and you know why…Or don’t you?’ He thrust his scarlet face down towards the now slightly surprised countenance of Mr Wilcox. ‘He had me beaten up because I exposed his little game. I went through his returns…among your files, and found out he was doing some twisting, as you knew he’d been doing for years and shut your eyes to it. He said he had never engaged the Thorpe boy on a Saturday morning, but he’d been putting thirty shillings on his returns for employing two boys on a Saturday morning for years. I went and confronted him with it and forced his hand. I made him go to the police and clear the Thorpe boy. That’s news to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘You!…you went to my files and…?’ Bubbles of saliva spurted from Mr Wilcox’s lips.

  ‘Yes, I went through your files.’

  ‘You…You mean to stand there and tell me…?’

  ‘Yes, I mean to stand here and tell you, and if you hadn’t anything to hide you wouldn’t mind who went through your files.’

  ‘The client’s business is private, you know that.’

  ‘But YOU have a section that is specially private, haven’t you?’ He paused for a telling moment before going on, ‘So now I’m warning you. You drop your fancy-man business or it isn’t too late to do what I should have done the night I got this.’ He pointed to his face.

  Mr Wilcox swallowed deeply. He was definitely flustered now as his voice showed. ‘You’ve got no proof that it was Mr Bolton who instigated the…that.’

  ‘I’ve got all the proof I need.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you use it? I can’t see you having a trump card in your hand and not playing it.’

  Laurie stared down into the mean little face, then he stepped back from him as if the proximity of this man was distasteful to him, as it was. And he said slowly, ‘Yes, you would think that way because that’s how you would have acted, isn’t it? Well, I’ll tell you now why I didn’t play my card. It was because if I had accused Bolton I would have had to give my reasons for the attack, and I couldn’t have done that without bringing up the matter of how the boy Thorpe was cleared and that would have involved you. Funny, isn’t it, me considering you.’

  ‘I need no consideration from you, young man; my business can stand scrutiny of the closest kind.’ Mr Wilcox was bristling again.

  ‘Doubtless, doubtless, you would have been able to prove that you knew nothing about his little fiddles on the side, but you know and I know that Her Majesty’s Inspector of Taxes has just got to get the tiniest inkling that there is some laxity with regard to the scrutiny of the returns of privileged clients and they’re on to you; they’ll watch you like a hawk until the day you retire.’ Laurie wiped the sweat from around his mouth with his hand, then shook his head as he said, ‘It’s funny. As much as I hate your guts, and I’m telling you to your face I do, I didn’t want to do this to you.’

  Mr Wilcox too wiped his face, but he did it with a large white handkerchief, and when he had finished he was smiling, a twisted, sarcastic smile. He spread his lips wide, revealing his neat dentures, as he said, ‘A very noble way of putting it. But it would have been nearer the truth had you said that you held your hand because your conscience was troubling you concerning your treatment of Val and your association with that woman.’

  ‘Look. I’ll tell you once again, I had no association with…that woman, as you call her.’ Laurie’s whole attitude now was one of taut aggressiveness. ‘But if I’d known as much the night I got this,’ he touched his cheek, ‘as I do now I wouldn’t have hesitated in taking the whole matter to the authorities…But mind, as I’ve said, it isn’t too late; so I’m warning you.’ He again dug his finger towards Wilcox, ‘you start any rumours going about fancy men and me having an affair with Mrs Thorpe and I’ll bring the whole matter into the open…Now.’ His voice dropped. ‘You’ve had your say; you’ve acted, as you would put it, like a man…the little mean man that you are. Now get out.’

  James Wilcox’s lips met and were drawn in between his teeth. His portly body quivered; he tugged with both hands at the points of his waistcoat; he was about to go but he had to have one more shot. ‘You’re finished in this town, you know that, don’t you?’ He now lifted his body around almost with a jump and made for the door, and Laurie followed him. He followed him across the hall and he stood behind him as he fumbled with the latch of the front door. And when he had succeeded in opening it, Wilcox turned to him once again and, nodding towards his face, said under his breath, ‘Well, whoever did that, they made a pretty mess of you, and I’m going to say now, and frankly, that I wish I’d had a hand in it.’

  Laurie remained quite still, and his voice was deceptively calm when he replied, ‘Thank you, your honour. And I’m sure that if you had I would have lost the sight of both eyes, instead of just one.’

  In the moment that he paused before banging the door in Wilcox’s face he saw the startled look of surprise spreading over it.

  When he again entered the morning room his body was shaking and he felt slightly sick. He stood for a moment with his hand to his head, before turning about and going into the dining room and pouring himself out a stiff drink…Her fancy man! He knew that all his brave talk about what he would do if Wilcox spread that rumour was mere wind, for it would already be in circulation—Val would have grabbed at the whole business as a face-saver. He wondered that old Wilcox had bothered to come and tell him. What he had really come for was to act the man, the enraged parent, and shout his mouth off.

  His father ha
d started something, hadn’t he? The old feeling against him revived with a surge, swamping that more liberal one that had emerged during the past weeks. He walked back into the lounge and, standing before the high hearth, finished his drink at a gulp, then hurled the glass into the empty grate.

  The same evening Laurie went to see his doctor, who told him that he would get him into the hospital towards the end of the following week. He’d had a report from the specialist, but he was afraid there was nothing to add to what he already knew. In the meantime he would give him a prescription for more drops …

  It was as he stood to the side of a partition of baby foods waiting for his prescription to be made up that he saw Cissie go up to the counter; and as he stood looking at her back he felt a galloping racing emotion within him that could have been fear. If there had been a door to the left of him he would have sidled out, but any move from where he stood must bring her attention to him, and so he stood still.

  She was wearing a plastic mac over a brown suit, she was hatless and her long wet hair hung in separated strands onto her shoulders, and the undisciplined sight of it irritated him. He heard the assistant say to her, ‘Will you take a seat, it’ll be a few moments.’ When she turned to where the seats were she was directly in front of him and as his own face reddened he watched hers light up. For a moment he saw her eyes shine with a warm brightness, as if she was seeing someone she had never expected to see again.

  ‘How are you?’ She was standing close to him, looking into his face and her eyes, after moving from one feature to the other, came to rest on the dilated pupil of his left eye.

  ‘Fine,’ he said; ‘fine.’

  ‘Sure?’ Her face had suddenly dropped into straight solemn lines. ‘You don’t…I mean, it hasn’t…?’

  ‘Oh, this.’ He patted one cheek and then the other. ‘Oh, that’ll disappear in time.’ As he continued to look at her he thought she would never know the extent of the trouble she had caused him. Nevertheless, what little he knew of her, he gauged she was the kind of person who would not wittingly bring trouble on anybody. He believed now, as his father had impressed on him from the beginning, that she was kind. Whatever else she might be, she was kind. She had dropped her eyes from his and was standing to the side facing the counter now, and she said, ‘I’ve got Pat in bed with a cold.’