Listening to the Quiet

by Listening to the Quiet (retail) (epub)

  The baby, now a bonny eight months old with soft reddish-brown hair, was wakeful. Beth played with her for an hour, then sang softly while giving her last bottle. When Marylyn was settled in her cradle upstairs, Beth made herself a mug of hot chocolate and finally put her weary feet up on the couch.

  She went to bed at ten thirty, much later than when at home for her parents retired early. After kneeling beside the camp bed to say her prayers, she climbed in under the rough covers. People told her she must be mad sleeping in this pokey little cottage – a hovel or a pigsty, they called it – but Luke paid her two shillings each night she slept here and he had promised he would soon find somewhere better for the children to live.

  In the middle of the night Beth was running to the school-house in her nightdress, crying in panic.

  Chapter Thirty

  The front door of Nance Farm was suddenly being battered on. The dogs created a noisy din in the kitchen.

  Jo followed Mercy downstairs, both in nightclothes. Before she opened the door, Mercy passed the lamp to Jo and picked up the heavy shapeless lump of iron used as a doorstop.

  It proved to be Marcus causing the commotion. Mercy invited him inside, but reckoning it was Jo he had come to see, she left it to her to ask why he was calling so urgently at this ungodly hour.

  In the dull orangey light, he faced the two women in the hallway. ‘I remembered you were staying the night here, Joanna.’

  Jo stared into his grave face. ‘What is it? Is Eleanor ill?’

  ‘I haven’t come about my mother,’ he said in the soft, precise manner of someone making sure their every word was clearly understood. He was having difficulty meeting her eyes.

  ‘Is it Luke?’ Jo started forward. ‘Have you heard something about him? Has he been hurt?’ Mercy took the lamp back, instinctively putting an arm round her.

  ‘It’s not about Luke.’ Marcus shook his head sadly. ‘Can we go into the kitchen and talk?’

  ‘No!’ Jo cried nervously. ‘Tell me now. What’s happened?’

  He swallowed hard and reached for Jo’s hand. ‘A short time ago Beth Wherry came running to the schoolhouse for help. Joanna, my dear, I’m very sorry to have to tell you this but little Molly is dead. It appears she died in her sleep.’ Gripping his hand in shock, Jo felt as if she had been hit by a tremendous breaker of freezing cold water. Her mouth went dry and she had difficulty speaking. ‘W-what? No! It can’t be true.’

  ‘Come on, my handsome, into the kitchen,’ Mercy said. ‘It’ll be warm in there.’

  ‘N-no. I must get dressed. I have to go to Rex and Marylyn.’ Scalding tears of grief fell down Jo’s face. How could fate have been so cruel to Molly? She’d had a terrible start in life, suffered constant ill health, fear and humiliation. And now this. Her young life suddenly snatched away.

  Still clutching Marcus’s hand, she appealed to him. ‘Thank you for coming, Marcus. Did you come in your motorcar? Will you drive me to the village?’

  ‘I asked Davey Penoble to drop me off here.’ He gave her a smile full of understanding and sympathy. ‘He’s gone on to the Penzance area to locate Luke. I’ll wait for you to get ready and walk with you to the village.’

  As the three set off for the village, dawn was beginning to streak the sky, a cold banner of red in the glowing yellowy-whiteness. Jo held Mercy’s big rough hand, and when Marcus offered her his arm she gladly took it.

  Her mind strayed again to Molly’s misery. Her fearful, distrusting, scabby little face when she had first seen her. Her constant discomposure at school, where she had been so unmercifully bullied. Blood and coal dust all over her when she had been thrown into the coal house. Pleasures had been few in her short life. The hair ribbon Jo had given her, a bag of sweets, an iced bun, a second-hand dress. Despite Jessie’s neglect and cruelty towards her, she had asked Jo only two days ago when her mother was coming home. Thank God she had known the kindly attentions of Beth and Mrs Wherry.

  Suddenly, Jo sobbed, ‘Did she suffer?’

  ‘No,’ Marcus replied, his voice choked with emotion. ‘I’ve seen her myself. She looks very peaceful. I waited for the doctor to confirm she had slipped away then I left Beth and her father with her. Rex and the baby have been taken to Mrs Wherry.’

  When they got to the Vigus cottage, Marcus stayed downstairs. Mercy climbed the rope ladder after Jo. Beth and John Wherry were sitting either side of Molly’s body. Beth was looking fairly composed now the terrible shock of her tragic discovery had abated a little. John Wherry, who had lit candles all round the room, had an open Bible on his lap.

  Jo hugged Beth. ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered through her tears.

  ‘Yes.’ Beth nodded, her childlike voice trembling. ‘Something woke me up. I felt I had to check on the children and… it was Molly. I knew at once she’d been taken, God bless her. She’s with Him now.’

  Jo fell on her knees and gazed down at Molly’s sweet pale face. She looked as if she was sleeping. Jo stroked her hair and kissed her cold cheek. ‘Oh, Molly, my poor dear Molly.’ Then she turned to Mercy and cried her heart out in her arms.

  * * *

  Luke turned up shortly before midday. Jo was sitting on the settee in the Wherry s’ parlour, holding Marylyn very close on her lap. Rex was clinging to her, as he had done the moment she had arrived here early in the morning. Mrs Wherry discreetly crept away to her kitchen.

  Sobbing wretchedly, Rex left Jo’s side and ran to his elder brother, who looked ashen and gaunt, his pale blue eyes almost colourless. Luke hugged him briefly then went to Jo. They embraced but he pulled quickly away. He paced up and down the short room, his boots slapping down on the worn linoleum. He ran his hands through his hair. Extracted a cigarette out of the packet he pulled from the breast pocket of his shirt with trembling fingers. Jo made to check him, changed her mind and choked on the unspoken words. The air undulated with tension.

  Luke glanced at her, his eyes filled with tears. He swallowed heavily to forbid them, shook his head, looked out of the window, ran his palm over his face. Finally, he turned back to Jo.

  ‘Where is she? I went home and she’s not there.’ His voice was husky with emotion. And anger.

  ‘She’s been taken away, darling.’ Jo stood up. She wanted to hold him, shower him with comfort. ‘The coroner ordered it. They have to find out exactly how she died.’

  ‘What! She doesn’t deserve that. To be treated like a slab of meat in an abattoir.’ He swore and Jo had the notion he wanted to beat his fists into something, anything to ease his pain and fury. ‘Davey Penoble said she died in her sleep, peaceful and no pain and all that rubbish! He made it sound like she’d received a blessing, not died in a stinking hovel.’

  ‘Luke, stop it,’ Jo implored him. Mrs Wherry peeped into the room, worried over Luke’s anguish. Jo passed Marylyn to her. ‘Think of Rex. He mustn’t hear things like that.’

  ‘Why not?’ Luke bawled savagely, glaring at Rex who was backing towards the door. Jo went to the boy, put her hands on his shoulders and he halted, watching Luke from frightened eyes. ‘It’s the one lesson in life he should learn, that life’s a bloody torment and then you die and turn to dust.’

  ‘Take no notice of him,’ Jo whispered in Rex’s ear as Luke continued to rant macabrely. ‘Luke’s grief-stricken. Molly’s in heaven now, safe and well with the Lord Jesus. She’ll always be happy, no one can ever hurt her again.’ Jo prayed she had soothed away some of the boy’s horror. ‘Go to Mrs Wherry, she’ll take care of you. I want to speak to Luke.’ Before he left the parlour, the look Rex gave his brother was consumed with hurt and accusation.

  Jo closed the door and faced Luke. His handsome features were taut and uncompromising, the skin stretched white over his high cheekbones. It was as if he had closed a door inside himself, shut part of himself off from her. Life had returned to his eyes, but they held nothing appropriate to the tragedy. He had already lost the consoling numbness associated with the death of a loved one, and he was loo
king at her in the same way Rex had just looked at him. She was desperate to go to him, and she needed his arms about her too, but she felt that if she touched him, something inside him would snap, something bad would be brought to the surface. She loved this man so much it was an agony to have to stand back as if she was nothing more to him at that moment than Molly’s teacher.

  ‘I’m very sorry, Luke. I’m convinced there was nothing anyone could have done for Molly. It was better that Beth was with her than your mother. Davey was right. She did look peaceful, there was even a little smile on her face.’ The tears pressing at the backs of Jo’s eyes began to fall; she could not stop them even if she wanted to. ‘She looked lovely, like an angel.’

  ‘She died alone,’ Luke breathed bitterly.

  ‘No, she didn’t. Beth prayed for her just before she went to sleep. God was with Molly. If you can’t turn to me, Luke, at least comfort yourself with that.’

  At last he came to her, putting his hands on her arms. There was so much he wanted to say but he would choke on the words. A thousand times he had wished to rid himself of his sisters and brother. He knew if he had fixed it for them to be fostered he would have seen less and less of them.

  When Davey Penoble had found him in the Admiral Benbow in Penzance, his first thought at the news was that at last he was free from one of his responsibilities. He’d hated himself for it immediately, but the thought had been there, thrust to the surface, and he had seen into his own soul as clearly as if looking into a mirror. It was seamed with utter selfishness. He had always prided himself on his masculinity, but he wasn’t a man. A real man shouldered his burdens, no matter how unpleasant and hard they might be, and it wasn’t as if Rex and Molly and Marylyn weren’t ever going to grow up and make their own way in the world. Only Molly was not going to grow up at all now. He should have been at home with her. It was his fault she’d died, he must have wished it on her. And now he had scared Rex with his morbid ravings and lost his brother’s respect.

  He squeezed Jo’s arms. He did not hurt her, but he had the physical strength to. Yet she was stronger than he ever would be. He had always known it. He wasn’t good enough for her. Maybe she knew it too, but she loved him nonetheless. And he loved her. He could not give her up any more than he could help himself for not caring enough for his siblings.

  Jo could not bear his silence and moved in to his body. The familiarity of him was balm to her aching heart. She prayed his fit of frenzy had assuaged his despair, that he would apologise to Rex, hold the boy, reassure him.

  Luke was feeling iron-cold but it helped to hold the woman he loved and needed, to bring her against him, feel the delicate body that so willingly yielded to him. ‘I’m sorry, Jo.’

  ‘It’s been a terrible shock,’ she said, trying to look up into his face.

  Luke could not let her see his weakness. He kept her head clamped to his chest. ‘I suppose I’d better make some arrangements.’ Yes, do the necessary things, go through the motions, for the sake of the others. He kissed Jo’s lips briefly, then left for the hovel Molly had died in.

  * * *

  Marcus was on his way home during the school dinner break, and saw Luke coming out of the tiny cottage across the street. Luke ignored him, making for Lucky tethered to the chapel railings. Marcus walked rapidly to catch up with him.

  ‘I would like to offer my deepest condolences over Molly’s death, Mr Vigus.’

  ‘Thank you for your help.’ Luke kept his eyes on the ground.

  ‘Have you received any information?’ Marcus persisted. He was not in a position to be with Joanna, but he had to know exactly what was happening.

  ‘I phoned the doctor and he told me they’ve taken Molly to Penzance hospital. I’m going there to see her and arrange to have her brought home.’ Luke was uncomfortable in the other man’s presence. Marcus Lidgey had not shirked his duty, he was caring admirably for his ailing mother.

  ‘I’d like to offer you unlimited use of my motorcar and telephone. Can you drive?’

  ‘Yes, but I’d rather use my horse and the pub telephone.’

  ‘Miss Teague and I have divided Miss Venner’s class between us. I’ve told her she must take off as much time as you have need of her.’

  Luke nodded curtly and stalked off.

  Marcus ate his lunch alone at the dining table. When Sally came to collect the dishes, she said frostily, ‘Mrs Lidgey’s asking to see you.’

  ‘Tell her I’ll be along directly.’

  ‘You’re going this time then?’ Sally rattled the plates on to the tray. ‘I was beginning to think you didn’t care about her no more.’

  You behave as if I don’t exist, she mused bitterly, but you talk to Beth all the time these days. Good thing for her she doesn’t sleep in this house or she’d have you knocking on her bedroom door, as plain and as religious as she is. Anyone would think it was her sister who’d died this morning, the fuss you made of her. It’s time Mrs Lidgey knew about this.

  ‘Of course I care about her.’ Marcus lit a cigarette. He would make a point of taking his time to go to Eleanor.

  ‘You’ve got a strange way of showing it. She’s always asking for you and you can’t be bothered with her.’

  Marcus found Sally’s remarks and ill humour objectionable, but he did not remonstrate with her. His mind was too occupied working out his plan. ‘The doctor said she must have as much rest as possible. You know what she’s like when I’m with her. She tries to do too much and when I chide her she loses her temper with me. Getting into a passion isn’t good for her. But you’re right, perhaps I’ve overdone staying away from her.’

  Anxious to get a higher professional opinion on the condition of his mother’s health, Marcus had paid an orthopaedic specialist to come to the house for a consultation. A week ago, Dr Mark Richardson, sleek in a grey, pin-striped suit and waistcoat and ink-blue bowtie, pedantic and methodical, had made a detailed examination of Eleanor, to which she had eagerly submitted. His opinion was that she needed regular manipulation of the spine by an expert hand, complemented by a particular brand of medicines which he alone could prescribe (at an exorbitant price, Marcus was certain).

  For Marcus’s ears alone, he had pontificated, ‘Your mother’s age has taken a toll on her condition. If I had been consulted at the time of her accident and my treatment had been followed she would be much more mobile and in far less pain. You will see she gets the therapy I’ve recommended?’

  ‘Of course. But her general condition is quite well?’

  ‘You have nothing to fear there, Mr Lidgey. Your mother’s heart is very strong. She has years left in her.’

  The prognosis had left Marcus with no alternative. Eleanor must be helped on her way out of this world.

  Precisely ten minutes passed before he went into the sitting room, where Eleanor was lying on the sofa, propped up by a mass of pillows. Her dress, hair and make-up were immaculate as usual, but pain worried the corners of her eyes, paled her temples.

  She examined him steadily. ‘I knew you would not stay away from me for ever, my son. When is the treatment Dr Richardson prescribed for me going to start?’

  He stood well back from her. ‘He left the arrangements to me. I don’t intend to do any such thing.’

  ‘Bastard!’

  With Joanna in his thoughts, he found the strength and calm he needed. ‘For what you’ve done to me you deserve to suffer all the pain in the world. It should have been you who died today, not an innocent little girl.’

  ‘You may wish that with all your heart but I have great strengths within me. Come close, Marcus.’

  Putting his hand under his chin in a thoughtful expression, he frowned slightly. ‘Do you think children go straight to heaven, Mama? Or do you think wronged ones, like my little sister, Gabriella, stay earthbound, desperately hoping to gain the love of those who hated them?’

  ‘No one really has a soul, Marcus.’ Eleanor smiled maliciously. ‘The only life we get is what we have while w
e’re breathing. Gabriella isn’t breathing. She was eaten up by the worms long, long ago.’

  ‘Her body perished, but sometimes I have this fancy that I hear her voice, like a quiet murmur, calling to me. She knows I would have loved her dearly. One day I’m going to kill you, Mama.’

  ‘You haven’t got the courage.’ Eleanor laughed scornfully. ‘You and your pathetic schemes. I’ve seen the way you look at me, plotting inside your silly head.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll do it, and without laying a finger on you. I’ll tell you something else. I mean to have Joanna as my wife, and honourably. I’ll not fail. Now I really must go back to the school. Enjoy a restful afternoon, Mama.’

  * * *

  It was late evening when Luke got back from Penzance. He went straight to the Wherrys’ house, knowing Jo would stay there with Rex and Marylyn. The Wherrys gathered in the parlour to hear what he had to say.

  Luke was badly shaken. ‘I waited for the results of the tests. Molly died of something called an aneurysm. A blood vessel swelled inside her and ruptured, hitting her heart. They said she was probably born with the weakness. It could’ve happened any moment. They said she didn’t suffer. It wouldn’t have woken her.’ His eyes shone with tears but he refused to give way to them. ‘I’ve arranged for Molly to be brought home tomorrow and to be buried next Monday.’

  ‘At least you know what happened, Luke,’ Jo said quietly. ‘I hope you will take comfort from it. Talk to Rex now. He needs you.’

  ‘Poor little Molly.’ Mrs Wherry dried her eyes with her hanky. ‘You can leave Marylyn and Rex with us for the next few days, Luke.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Luke replied briskly, almost as if he had no feelings on the matter. ‘Do you want to stay here, Rex?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rex answered sullenly, leaning into Beth, avoiding Luke’s eyes.