‘Aye, the bargain.’ John sighed. ‘Well, since you kept your part, I’d like to keep mine, but in me sober moments I can’t see how I’ll ever do it, not for a few years anyway. And what’s more, I’ve been thinking. Even when I get it, it’s not going to convince me… For, mind you’—he pointed his finger at the Saint—‘I still believe what I said about you.’
‘That’s a pity, John, for it only makes my task the longer. You’re a stubborn man, you know. Now, if you could just try and see things my way, well then, we could part company and that would be that; but if you won’t then you’re stuck with me… And me with you.’
When John was not actually confronted by this being he was the last person in the world he wished to see, but once in his presence he had the desire to stay there and so he heard himself saying, ‘Well, that’s all right with me.’
‘I’m causing you a heap of trouble, John.’
‘Oh, I’ll weather that,’ said John airily. And in his present frame of mind he was firmly convinced that he could weather it.
‘That doctor’s got it in for you.’
‘Yes, I know that, but it’ll take more than him to get on top of me.’
‘I’d be careful, John. I’ve met men of his kidney before today, mostly in the priesthood—they have to prove themselves right, no matter who dies.’
‘You think he’ll try to put me away?’
‘I think he means business and I’d be wary of him… Oh, look out.’
John’s attention swung to the doorway and there he saw standing not only Katie, but Florrie.
‘Come out of it, John, come out of it.’ Katie was advancing on him and not a trace of fear to be seen on her face. Katie had fainted because she thought Broderick was seeing things, but as Broderick was seemingly himself on the morning following the incident, she had come to the same conclusion that the doctor had worked out. Broderick had been engaging in a leg-pull to take the rise out of John, and the more he tried to convince her otherwise the more firmly she was fixed in her own opinion. Her Brod seeing things, and him as sober as a judge. She must have been off her head herself to go and faint like that, but he had done it all to the life with his shirt torn to ribbons and his hair standin’ on end into the bargain, that she could be forgiven for being taken in. But John seeing things was a different kettle of fish. He was seeing them, all right. He was in a bad way, and she was sorry to the heart for him.
‘Leave me be.’ John pushed Katie’s hands off him and turned to Florrie where she was standing gazing fixedly at him, fear in her eyes, and he said to her in a sort of appeal, ‘Don’t look at me like that, lass.’ When she did not answer he turned to the bed and sat on it with a flop. He felt deflated now and entirely himself.
When Florrie still said no word, Katie put in on a high note, ‘Aw, she’s worried about you, John, and small wonder, ye know, at that. Come and sit yourself down, Florrie.’ She pulled a chair to the bed. ‘I’ll take meself off downstairs for I’m up to me eyes with things to do as usual, and Brod himself will be in on me at any minute.’
Tactfully, if reluctantly, Katie left them and Florrie, taking the seat near John, looked at him helplessly as he sat with his head bowed as if in shame.
When John felt like himself he had no wish to talk, but now he forced himself to some sort of explanation that would enlighten Florrie as to his state of mind, even if it did not succeed in alleviating her worry. ‘I keep telling you I’m not barmy, Florrie.’ His voice was a mumble. ‘But I can understand full well that you should think I am… It’s like this, you see; I can be all right one moment, and then I get a sort of feeling… I can’t rightly describe it… It’s a sort of airy, happy, don’t-care-a-damn feeling. You know me.’ He flicked his eyes to her. ‘I’ve never been the jolly, laughin’ kind, that’s why I can’t stand…’ His voice dropped even lower as he thumbed the floor. ‘Well, when I get this feeling, it seems as if I’m being turned into the man I’ve always longed to be. A kind of happy, easy-going fellow, bubbling inside with chatter and laughter. I’ve met such men and I suppose I’ve envied them. These past few days, as I’ve said, I get this sort of feeling and then…’ His head sank to his chest and his voice was very low as he admitted, ‘He comes. But Florrie’—he raised his eyes quickly to her again—‘he’s as real as you are. I can’t explain it. I have no means of telling you just how real he is. I was frightened at the sight of him at first. Scared out of me wits, but now, although I don’t want to see him, believe me I don’t, Florrie, but when he does come I’m sort of glad he’s there. Oh’—he moved his body from side to side in his perplexity—‘I just can’t explain and make you see.’ Now his hand went out and covered her knee. ‘I know I’ve got you worried, lass. I’m worried meself.’
‘What’s to be done, John?’ Florrie’s lips were trembling but her eyes were dry. ‘You can’t go on…’
‘I don’t rightly know, lass. I’ve got a feeling it might work itself away if I was left alone. But that doctor…’
‘He’s been again, John. A few minutes ago.’
‘He has?’ John’s eyes widened the slightest. ‘What did he say?’
Florrie lowered her eyes as she whispered, ‘He’s positive the business the other night with Broderick was all your doing. He demanded to know where you were and when I told him I didn’t know, he said…’ Florrie paused and John put in, ‘Aye, aye, go on; you might as well tell me.’
It was some seconds before Florrie continued and then John could only just catch her words. ‘He said the next thing we’ll be hearing is of women being scared out of their wits by a man jumping out on them from dark corners. He said… he said that’s the pattern it would take.’
‘My God.’ John got to his feet and began to pace the narrow width of the room and Florrie, still not looking at him, murmured, ‘He’s positive I know where you are and he said that he was coming in tomorrow evening and if he didn’t see you then he was goin’ to the police, and I had to tell you.’
‘A… aw.’
It was a long drawn out groan from John, and as Florrie went hastily to him and put her arms about him, he placed his hand over his eyes.
‘There, there,’ she soothed him. ‘Don’t take on like that. Oh, don’t. Just see him the morrow night. Do that, please, John, for my sake, and do what he asks. Go to hospital—you can go voluntarily. Nobody is going to make you or force you or push you; you can go on your own as long as he knows you’re going, and you won’t see him there. There’ll be other doctors, men who will understand. It was the cricket ball—you should have had yourself seen to last Saturday when it happened. You’ve never been like this in your life afore. Oh, my dear.’ She led him to the bed and sat down by his side and he rested against her as if he was weary and when she asked, ‘Will you?’ He answered after a while, ‘I’ll see, lass. I’ll see.’
Then Florrie, stroking his head, said, ‘I’ve been thinking afore I came round. He cannot force his way upstairs, and give him his due he didn’t try it on, so you’ll be just as well in your own room as you would be here. I think you would have been just as well there all along.’ Florrie’s voice was hardly audible now. ‘Not that I don’t think it was good of Moira to be so helpful. She’s been good, real good.’
Slowly John straightened himself and rose from the bed saying, ‘You’re right. I’m acting like a scared rabbit. I’m going into me own house and if he comes again I’ll see him whether I’m upstairs or downstairs… Let’s be going.’
He went to the door, then paused with his hand on the knob and, turning, he put his other hand on her shoulder and said below his breath, ‘I’m longing for a sight of your kitchen again, lass, after having a taste of this.’ His eyes did a circular movement around the room. Then, as if each word had to be dragged out, he said haltingly, ‘You’re… you’re a wonderful wife… lass.’
After a moment of eye holding eye, Florrie leant towards him and she kissed him; it was a shy kiss, as if they had been parted for years and the man
before her was a stranger whom she had to get to know again. Then with her head bent she passed before him and down the stairs.
Chapter Eight
‘Aunt Lucy,’ said Florrie. ‘It’s me that’s going to go off me head. I’m going stark staring mad.’
‘Oh, lass, what’s happened now?’ Aunt Lucy was smoothing down her hair after taking off her hat.
‘About everything that could,’ said Florrie.
‘Oh dear, oh dear… By the way…’ Aunt Lucy looked around and her voice was a thin little whisper as she asked, ‘Where’s she?’
There was no need for Florrie to enquire who Aunt Lucy was referring to and she answered with a sigh, ‘Upstairs lying down.’
‘Has she been on again?’
‘Does she ever stop? But it’s not about her I’m worried.’
‘John?’
‘Yes, and more now.’
‘Is he out?’
‘Oh no,’ said Florrie. She jerked her head upwards. ‘He’s in his room.’
‘Has he had any more of them… ?’ Aunt Lucy left the question unfinished, and Florrie said helplessly. ‘Yes, first thing this morning.’
‘Laughing again?’
‘No, not this time. He was sort of arguing and shouting… Well, not shouting but talking loud, something about a bargain and saying that nobody was going to convince him. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it although he kept on and on about the same thing. I stayed on the landing until he quietened, then I was just on my way downstairs when he came tearing out of the room, galloped down the stairs and out into the back garden. Before I could stop him, he was yelling to Linda all the time to come back. She had just set out on her way to work. I thought it was all part of his turn, but when Linda came back into the kitchen and I looked at her face, I knew there was something else wrong.’
‘Wrong? With Linda?’ Aunt Lucy’s eyes were stretched wide.
‘Yes, Linda.’ Florrie shook her head slowly. ‘He said to her, “Give me that note”, and she didn’t deny she had a note but she wouldn’t give it to him and I kept saying, “What’s all this about? Who’s the note from?” And then he turned on me like a wild man. “It’s from Pat McNally,” he said. “I saw him slip it to her over the railings and what’s more he…”’ Florrie paused then went on. ‘He wouldn’t say what he had seen Pat do. Aunt Lucy, I was simply amazed; Linda’s just a child and Pat McNally, he’s thirty and you know… Well, he’s been divorced an’ all, and what’s more he’s a Catholic. Everything that could be is against him but he’s changed my Linda; I couldn’t recognise her this morning. She likes her dad; she’s very fond of him, but she stood up to him, more than I could have done, and told him that she was going to marry him and she wasn’t going to wait until she was twenty-one either, no matter what he said or did.’
‘Dear, dear, dear, dear,’ said Aunt Lucy.
‘And that’s not all, Aunt Lucy. I could have sunk through the floor the next minute when John said, “My God, it isn’t enough that Arthur’s courtin’ young Moira on the sly, you’ve got to go and get yourself mixed up with a man near twice your age, and another McNally at that.”’
‘Arthur… but the wedding, Florrie.’
‘Yes, Aunt Lucy, the wedding. That’s what’s been the matter with Arthur and Joan for weeks now and I didn’t see it. It was going on under me nose and I didn’t see it. What’s come over us all, Aunt Lucy? This used to be a happy house. Quiet, but happy together. But now, everybody seems to have gone off their heads. There’s no need for John to go away—this is an asylum in itself.’
‘Aw, lass, don’t say things like that.’
‘How can I help it? Every one of my family is in trouble.’
‘Not Frankie, Florrie; Frankie’s all right.’
‘There’s something wrong with Frankie an’ all, Aunt Lucy. What it is I can’t make out. But he’s not speaking to me and his reactions are odd—not as they used to be—for when I tackled our Arthur at dinner time and he admitted carrying on with Moira, but said it wasn’t carrying on, it was serious, Frankie didn’t say a word, not one word. And that’s not Frankie, Aunt Lucy. He never even batted an eyelid when Arthur said he had told Mr Duckworth that he was finished and what he could do with his job. Even after dinner when I had him on my own and I told him about Linda and Pat McNally all his comment was, “Well, well, you’d better build a covered way atween the two houses.” Now I know Frankie, Aunt Lucy, and the things that have happened here today would in the usual way have kept his tongue wagging for a week.’
‘Is it a girl with him?’
‘No, I don’t think so. But then what do I know about any of them?’ Florrie put out her hands in appeal. ‘They’re my family and I should know all their doings. But what happens? They’re carrying on under me nose and I can’t see it.’
‘Don’t blame yourself, lass—you’ve been so worried about John and he’s still your main worry, don’t forget.’
‘I’m not likely to forget that, Aunt Lucy.’
‘And once he’s better, everything else will fall into place, you’ll see. Have you had the Duckworths here since Arthur told them?’
‘No, but there’s plenty of time. Joan’s away in Hexham the day; we’ll know as soon as she’s back—they’ll be down on us, never fear.’
It was more than an hour later when a rap on the front door knocker turned Florrie’s eye towards Aunt Lucy, and she said, ‘They’re making it formal. I bet that’s them, the Duckworths.’
‘It couldn’t be the doctor?’ asked Aunt Lucy apprehensively.
‘No,’ said Florrie. ‘He’s away the day; I know that for sure.’
Bracing herself, Florrie went to the front door, opened it and she received her third severe shock of the day.
‘Hullo, Florrie. I don’t suppose you remember me?’
Florrie’s mouth hung open and her eyebrows stretched up into points.
‘Well, I guess I am a bit of a shock. It’s a long time, y’know… Aren’t you going to ask me in?’
Florrie took a deep draught of air before bringing out, ‘Yes—yes, come in.’
As Florrie closed the door behind her visitor, the hall became full of scent, and it felt like she was squeezing past it as she made her way in front of Freda and into the kitchen.
‘God Almighty!’ said Aunt Lucy.
‘No, only me.’
Following this facetious comment Freda, after looking around her to take stock of the room, said, ‘Well, here we are, all together like the folks a Shields.’ Freda turned a lazy glance in Florrie’s direction and remarked, ‘Aunt Lucy doesn’t change much, does she? Not like us.’ She made a high sound that was meant to be a laugh.
Florrie did not answer, not even by moving a muscle of her face. She was staring in fixed amazement at Freda and asking herself had the world gone mad, that everything should be happening to her this week and particularly the day. What did this one want, after all these years? What could she want? She remembered something almost forgotten. The real reason why they had come to this very village.
As Florrie put her hand to her head, Freda laughed outright. ‘Oh, come now, Florrie, don’t say I’m as big a shock as all that. Have I changed so much?’ She blinked her mascaraed eyes then asked in a jocular tone, ‘Isn’t anybody going to ask me to have a seat?’
Still without speaking Florrie pushed forward a chair for her, and as she sat down, Aunt Lucy said harshly, ‘What do you want, Freda?’
‘Nothing, nothing at all, but I thought I’d just look in and pay a friendly visit as I’m a neighbour of Florrie’s now. Quite the right thing to do, isn’t it?’
‘A neighbour?’ Florrie repeated the word on a gasp of astonishment, and Freda said, ‘Well, not next door, but I’m in the next village. Hasn’t Aunt Lucy told you?’
Florrie looked towards Aunt Lucy in amazement and when Aunt Lucy turned her gaze away, Freda nodded in mock annoyance at her, saying, ‘You’re a cute one, aren’t you? Always the old schemer.’
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As Aunt Lucy blinked and let her eyes rove round the room looking for something to fix them on, Florrie tried to pull her scattered wits together. She had met this woman three times in all, and there was only one thing changed about her and that was her face. Her manner was just the same: airy, sarky and a little frightening in a subtle way. She was after something or she wouldn’t be here.
Freda was looking at her now. ‘You don’t know that George is dead, but I’m sure you’ll be sorry to hear it.’ She paused. ‘Funny, isn’t it, how the youngish ones are taken and the old ones’—she glanced in Aunt Lucy’s direction—‘refuse to let go.’
So George was dead. The father of her first child was dead. Florrie felt neither pity nor remorse, but what she did feel was a jealousy of this woman before her; this painted woman who had stolen her first love from her. Yet why should she, she asked herself, for look at her, she looked a trollop.
The garden gate clicking at this moment brought her to the window as if she had been shot there and she made an effort to hide her relief as she saw it was only Linda who was coming up the path. For a moment she had forgotten that the boys wouldn’t be in until later this evening, but just in case, she must get rid of her as soon as possible.
‘Who is it?’ It was Aunt Lucy speaking.
‘It’s only Linda.’
There came a laugh from Freda. ‘Don’t worry about John coming in and finding me here. He knows I’m around, he’s been along to see me.’
‘What? John’s been to see you?’
‘There seems to be lots of things you don’t know, Florrie…’
‘Be quiet,’ Florrie snapped at her as the back door opened, and when Linda came into the room she found she couldn’t handle the situation or think of any way of introducing Freda. It was Aunt Lucy who did this, saying to Linda, ‘This is Mrs Manning.’ Then she added reluctantly, ‘An old friend of mine.’
Freda rose and extended her hand to Linda, saying, ‘By, haven’t you grown, you were only a baby the last time I saw you. Well, well. And aren’t we good-looking too? Who do you take after?’
Saint Christopher and the Gravedigger Page 19
