The Bondage of Love

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The Bondage of Love Page 14

by Catherine Cookson


  ‘Yes; if you don’t mind, Nurse, I’ll do that.’

  ‘He won’t do any talking until tomorrow, as I said.’

  But Sammy did. The door had hardly closed on her when the policeman, bending close to Sammy, said, ‘Is it the name of a man, sir, Branch?’

  ‘Bru…Bru…Brunch.’

  ‘It sounds like Brunch, not Branch,’ said Bill quietly.

  Then his head moving slightly again, Sammy looked at Bill and said, ‘Garage, Bill.’

  ‘Garage, Sammy?’

  ‘Johnny…Johnny Hatter.’

  Bill straightened up for a moment. ‘Garage? Johnny Hatter?’ The name recalled a young fella whose name was Hatter, to whom Rupert had given the push some weeks ago. It wasn’t concerning his work, but that he took too many days off. He was always sick or there was somebody in the house sick, if he remembered. Yes, that was the name.

  ‘Drug…drug.’

  ‘Yes, sir, that’s what we want to know about, the drugs.’

  Sammy pulled in a long breath. Then as his head seemed to sink back into the pillow, he breathed the name again, slowly, ‘Bru…nch.’

  It was at this moment sister came bustling into the room and, looking from one to the other, she said, ‘Would you kindly wait outside?’

  ‘It’s my…’

  Sister now stared at the officer, saying, ‘I know what you’re going to say, constable; it’s your duty. Well, he’s not a prisoner, but he’s a very sick young man and’—her voice dropping—‘for your information, he’s going to sleep. And hopefully, he’ll be much better tomorrow…hopefully, I say. But if you choose to sit here all night, that’s your business.’ She turned and looked at Bill, her glance saying, the same applies to you.

  When the two men were in the corridor, the officer said, ‘She is a bossy boots, that one, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. But I suppose she’s right.’

  ‘What d’you make of the word Branch, sir?’

  ‘I don’t think it was Branch, but Brunch.’

  ‘Brunch?’

  ‘Yes. Brunch. There’s a little restaurant in town, called The Brunch. Do you know it? A board outside says, “Come and have a brunch for your lunch.” I think it’s Americans who use the word brunch for lunch.’

  ‘The Brunch?’ The policeman’s face had stretched now. ‘Yes; yes, you’re right, sir. And he said drugs, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’ Bill nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, he did.’ And then he added to himself, He also said shoplifting. My God! Fiona will go round the bend if that’s true. As for myself I’ll want to take the skin off her if she’s been the means of causing this business. And I’ll likely not be able to stop myself if anything happens to him…‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said Johnny Hatter. He mentioned that name.’

  The policeman now took out his radio and spoke into it, saying, ‘Is the inspector there?’ There was a pause, then he said, ‘Well go and get him, and put him on.’

  Presently, he spoke again, ‘Is that you, sir? The young fellow has spoken. It seems that the name Brunch or Branch is connected with a restaurant in Fellburn. He also spoke the name of a man he must have recognised, Johnny Hatter. Apparently some weeks ago this man was dismissed from Mr Bailey’s garage. He also associated the girl Mamie with shoplifting.’

  There was a further pause before the policeman said, ‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,’ before returning the radio to his pocket and saying to Bill, ‘That’s given them a lead, anyway.’

  Twelve

  The next morning Sammy had come around somewhat, although he still imagined his father was with him and holding his hand. ‘Da, I’m paining.’

  ‘Well, you would be, lad, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘But why?’

  And his Dad had said, ‘You’ll know soon enough, lad. Just rest easy.’

  ‘Da, are they going to kill me?’

  ‘Well, they had a good try, lad. You’ll hear all about it later.’

  When Davey’s hand went to leave his, Sammy grabbed it, saying, ‘Don’t go, Da. Don’t go. I’m…I’m frightened, Da.’

  The hand left his; but another hand took its place and a voice said, ‘You awake, Sammy lad?’ He opened his eyes and looked up into Bill’s and on a whimper, he said, ‘Oh, Mr Bill.’

  ‘Oh, lad, it’s good to see you back.’ There was a break in Bill’s voice.

  ‘I’m aching, Mr Bill; I can’t move.’

  ‘You’re bound to ache, lad, but you’ll soon be better.’

  ‘Me da’s been with me, Mr Bill.’

  ‘Well, you couldn’t have a better man by your side, lad. Do you think you could talk to the policeman and tell him what you remember?’

  ‘Policemen…policemen?’ muttered Sammy. ‘They didn’t come.’

  ‘No, but they’re here now, lad, and you can help them.’

  Following Bill’s pointing finger, Sammy’s eyes slewed to the side to the face peering at him, and Bill said, ‘This is Inspector Mason. Can you tell him what you remember?’

  Sammy sighed, as if trying to recollect what had happened. Then he muttered, ‘Kitchen…Thieves’ kitchen. Table lit…littered.’

  As Sammy gasped for breath, Bill said, ‘Take it easy, boy,’ and he stroked the wet hair back from Sammy’s brow, the while raising his hand, indicating to the inspector to go slowly.

  However, the inspector said, ‘His every word, sir, could give us a lead. The Brunch information certainly gave us a start. There won’t be any more brunches there for a time. If you could have seen that cellar and the camouflage, you would have been amazed. He’s part Greek, the owner; but his subordinates are certainly not foreigners: lads from your own doorstep. We’ve got one, but there must be others. And if he can only remember names…’

  Again Bill held up his hand for Sammy’s eyes were open again and he was looking at the inspector. ‘Polgar,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the inspector acknowledged. ‘She had been in the house, Gertie Polgar; at least, that’s the name she is going under now. She’s got a record, that one, and she’s as slippery as an eel, but we’ll find her, because she’s trailing her daughter with her this time. She’s another one, that young lass.’

  He looked across at Bill, but at this stage he was tactful enough not to make mention of the daughter’s companion.

  ‘Hatter and, I think…’ Sammy paused and drew in a deep, long shuddering breath before he said, ‘Breeze…’

  ‘Breeze? You mean wind?’

  Sammy closed his eyes. He wished he could remember clearly. If only his da hadn’t gone. Then he saw a man’s face and another man going for him, and on a quick note he said, ‘Breezy. M-M-Morley. Yes, Morley.’

  The inspector now said eagerly, ‘Breezy? Oh, we know a Breezy. He’s in and out like popcorn.’

  Sammy closed his eyes again: he wanted to go to sleep, for his da had come back, but he had hold of his hand and was saying to him, ‘Remember Pembroke Place? D’you remember that, lad; Pembroke Place and Mr Campbell? Mr Campbell?’

  He opened his eyes slowly and muttered now, ‘A man, Mr Campbell; they were going there, or wanted to go there, Breezy said.’

  ‘Go where? Go where, sir?’ The inspector’s voice was urgent.

  ‘Pembroke Place, I think.’ Sammy closed his eyes. ‘Is that it, Da?’ Then he said, ‘Pembroke Place.’

  ‘I…I think he’s had enough.’ Bill again looked across at the inspector, and he, straightening up, said, ‘He’s done splendidly to remember those names, because he’s still rather concussed, I would think. By! He’s had a narrow escape.’

  Turning now to the sergeant who had been taking down notes, he said, ‘Let’s get on with the business. Campbell will take over,’ and turning to Bill, he added, ‘You never know what else he may remember.’

  When the nurse came in she looked from Bill to the new policeman and, smiling, she said, ‘Those two look pleased with themselves.’ Then addressing Bill, she said, ‘Your wife has come. She’s in the wai
ting-room with the young girl.’ She did not say ‘that weirdo’, because she was puzzled that such people could be associated with someone like her. Perhaps she was a friend of this young man. Yes, it was more than likely, because it was said that he had once lived in Bog’s End in Fellburn, and she understood you couldn’t get much lower than Bog’s End.

  In the waiting room he greeted Daisy, ‘Hello, lass,’ he said.

  She stood up, saying, ‘How is he?’

  ‘Quite a bit better, lass. I’d go along now; there’s nobody there except for the pollis, as usual.’

  Daisy turned now and, looking at Fiona, she said, ‘Be seeing you,’ and Fiona answered in the same vein. ‘Yes, Daisy; be seeing you.’

  As Bill sat down next to Fiona and saw her hands gripping the top of her handbag, he said, ‘What is it, dear? What’s the matter?’

  She looked up at him. ‘It’s…it’s her, Bill, Mamie. I…I can’t have her back in the house; I wouldn’t know a minute’s peace. I went to see her this morning and she still lied barefacedly: she had never stolen anything in her life, and that when her grandfather heard of it, what he would do to us. And she wouldn’t shut up; she went on and on, gabbling. Yes, she admitted she had been to Mrs Polgar’s, but she still maintained it was only after she had been to the practice. Her story is that some men had burst in and they had tied her up and stuck a needle in her, and they had taken Mrs Polgar and Nancy away with them. As for shoplifting, oh, that brought her to tears. I was so mad, Bill, I shook her by the shoulders. We were in the side room by ourselves, but a nurse came in and upbraided me. You…you’ll have to do something. I don’t know what. But I’m not having her back.’

  ‘Don’t worry, dear. I’ll do something, and I’ll take a policeman along with me. I’ll put the fear of God into her. She’ll come clean or else. In any case she has only two choices, that of going back to her grandfather, or into a home for wayward girls. Anyway, it’s out of our hands now. However, I’ll get on to her grandfather and get him here quick. He’s made no move since he was told.’ He bent down and kissed her, saying, ‘Come on, honey, don’t waste your tears on her. You’ve wasted years trying to make something of her. It’s all my fault, playing the big-hearted Bill, taking on somebody else’s kid.’ He now drew her to her feet, saying, ‘Come on now. I’ll take you along and pick up Daisy and drop her at the factory.’

  On opening the door of Sammy’s room, he nodded towards Daisy, saying softly, ‘Come on, Minnehaha; I’ll drop you off at your factory.’

  They had walked some way in silence along the corridor when she startled him, by saying abruptly, ‘You’re lucky, you know.’

  ‘Oh? And how d’you make that out?’

  ‘Well, you’ve got her. She’s uppish, but she’s the right sort.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be pleased to know that.’

  ‘Well, you should tell her, and often. Men are fools; most of them, anyway.’ She glanced sideways at him as they divided to let the food trolley through, and when they were walking together again, he said, ‘And from where, miss, have you learned your deep wisdom about men?’

  ‘From our kitchen.’

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ He nodded his head, then said, ‘Could be. Yes, could be. Any particular member? Or just the bunch of the males?’

  ‘One, really; me da.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t say. And he knows how to treat women?’

  ‘Well, one at least, they fight like hell at times, but it’s not so bad now as it used to be. When he was in work you could look for a bust-up with your dinner in those days.’

  ‘And that’s the man, you think, who knows how to treat a woman?’

  They were crossing the forecourt of the hospital now to where the cars were parked, and she didn’t speak for some time; but then, thoughtfully, she said, ‘Well, for his type of woman and her type of man.’

  He glanced at her. She looked a pickle: she was still wearing the short coat that came above her knees and was pulled in tightly round her waist with a belt. Then there was the face above it: eyes made up with mascara, dead white cheeks, which he thought might be natural, but set off by scarlet lips; then the hair, partly covered now with a thin gauzy scarf; and her legs, not with football stockings on today, but definitely bright ones. And she wasn’t wearing trainers. Strangely, her footwear looked like an ordinary pair of black shoes. Yet, there she was, spouting theories, theories riven from experience, but which wouldn’t have come amiss if spoken by some modern sage, such as a psychiatrist was supposed to be, with his knowledge of life garnered only from books. Otherwise how could he know anything about real living, the way in which the majority of mankind existed? Oh dear, dear! He would soon have to bracket Mark, Willie and Katie with that lot. Yet Katie was already wise in a way. Aye, well, perhaps after all women had more up top than they were given credit for. And, as this one had suggested, there were women wise enough to keep quiet about it …

  ‘Get yourself in.’

  ‘Back or front?’

  ‘Well, madam, if I were chauffeuring you, you would get in the back; but as you seem to have become a member of my family, you’ll have to ride with me. Any objections?’

  She grinned at him, saying, ‘I could think up some.’

  ‘Get yourself in!’

  It was indeed as if she had become one of the family, and he hadn’t set eyes on her until five days ago. But he had heard quite a bit about her, and from Willie. Oh, he could see how Willie was attracted to her, because, in a way, she was another Sammy. Well, as Sammy used to be, and still was underneath. But what really was Willie’s interest in her? Oh, dear me! Dear me! Well, that was in the future. Yet, put her in a different rig-out and she could pass. But was she the type to go into a different rig-out? He cast a sidelong glance at her. She was looking out of the windscreen and she said quietly, ‘’Tis a lovely car. The lads would go mad about it. But I can tell you this’—she turned towards him and, almost as if she were ready to do battle, she stated—‘not one of our lot has been a car thief. No, not one. We had a car…I mean, our Frank had. It was an old jalopy, but he had to give it up. It was the insurance, and it was always going wrong in a way he couldn’t put right. And they’ve never gone for joyrides either, not one of them. They wouldn’t dare; me da would murder them. With his last breath, he would murder them. But around our way they do it all the time. I think our Sep, at times, used to wish he could join such a gang, but now he’s set up in a job. Oh, aye, it’s at your place.’

  ‘My place?’

  ‘Yes. Mr Ormesby set him on.’

  ‘Oh, well, if Mr Ormesby set him on, he must be all right.’

  ‘Well, yes, he is all right, our Sep. And he’s got it up top an’ all, but there’s no place to use it. He left school when he was sixteen and got into a decent job in Bryants, in the storeroom. He was going to work up to be a clerk. Then they went bust. So he hasn’t done anything for nearly two years. He was getting desperate and he just might, oh, aye, yes, he just might have joined one of the gangs and gone car-lifting, because there’s money in it. Pinch enough cassettes and radios in a day and you’ve got a week’s wages.’

  He pulled up sharply, then exclaimed, ‘Why don’t they look where they’re going?’

  ‘And they saunter over as if tomorrow would do.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You said something, and it wasn’t complimentary to me or the car.’

  ‘I just said, what’s the hurry, they’re not in a posh car.’

  She’s a tantalising piece this one.

  They passed through Gateshead and Low Fell without exchanging further words. Then, when they entered Fellburn, she said, ‘D’you know where the factory is?’

  ‘Yes, miss, I know where the factory is.’

  There were a number of women passing through the gates when he drew up the car alongside the kerb; and they stopped and gaped as the passenger stepped out of the car. They watched her bend into it, but they didn’t hear he
r say to the driver, ‘Thank you, mister. But don’t you call me Minnehaha again, else I’ll have Big Chief Running Water after you. He’s my minder and they call him Jimmy. And he puts people in their place.’

  ‘Get out!’ He stretched his face so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Then, as she closed the door, but not properly, he bent sideways, pushed it open, then banged it; and for a moment he paused there, and returned the wide stare of the women standing on the pavement.

  Well, she’d get some fun out of that: there’d be some hot cross-talk in her section today, if he wasn’t mistaken.

  Throughout the drive back home he found himself chuckling. He had much the same feeling as he used to have when leaving Davey Love’s company; there was that quality about her. Sammy had it, too, although Sammy didn’t let himself go as he once did, because education was building up a façade about him. And in a way, that was a good thing.

  However, once he was in the house his mood changed: he was going straight into battle with the old grandfather of that brazen piece.

  Bill got through to him straight away.

  ‘Yes?’ the querulous voice greeted him.

  ‘This is Bill Bailey here.’

  ‘Oh! Oh! Haven’t heard from you for some time. How’s the child?’

  ‘The child, as you call her, is a girl not yet thirteen, and she is in dire trouble.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘You heard what I said; she is in dire trouble. She has almost caused the death of a young man; in fact, it’s touch and go yet whether he’ll live. And, into the bargain, it turns out she is a shoplifter.’

  ‘Well! Well!’ The words came as a bawl. ‘You’ve trained her all right.’

  ‘Shut your mouth about training; we’ve done everything possible. She was sent to a good school, private. But she’s a polished liar. And I ask you where she got that from, because she didn’t get it from her mother and father; they were a decent couple. That’s why I gave her a home when she was three and you refused to look after her, but you hung on to her money. Well now, I wash my hands of her. You get yourself over here, and make the choice: either you take her back with you, or she goes into a home for wayward girls and her money will go with her. I’ve done my utmost for her and so has my wife. She must have bad blood in her.’

 

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