The Bondage of Love

by Catherine Cookson

  Now came a large tin of tongue and two tins of salmon, and when Len paused in the magical process, Harry said quietly, ‘You could lift that middle part out now, Da.’

  When Len lifted it up, a space on the table had to be made for it. It was unwrapped to reveal a turkey; and what a turkey!

  ‘I can’t believe it’s happening to us,’ Annie said.

  ‘No; and neither can I,’ said Daisy. ‘It’s like something you read about and scoff at because you know it could never happen to you. Is there anything else, Da?’

  ‘Yes, there’s plenty more I can see.’ Len’s voice was thick. And from each corner of the hamper he lifted up a bottle: the first was sherry, the second was whisky, the third white wine and the fourth red wine.

  No jokes were made about the bottles as they were placed on the table; to every member of the family it was now seeming too fantastic to take in. Then with an effort, Len lifted a box from the hamper, and more space still had to be made on the table to accommodate it. When its contents were revealed the word that resounded round the room was, ‘A ham,’ but echoed like ‘Amen!’

  It was Mike, speaking now for the first time, who said, ‘There’re more packages in the corner, Da.’

  ‘I thought it was just straw, son.’

  Again Len was reaching into the basket and among the straw. He brought out several packages which, on inspection, turned out to be cheeses.

  When the hamper was lifted down from the table and put to one side, little Jean said, ‘And there’s all those packages, Ma.’

  Annie answered her quietly, ‘Yes, hinny. Bring them here to where the hamper’s been.’

  There were four wrapped parcels, varying in size. And as they all stood round expectantly waiting for their mother to unwrap them, Annie surprised them by saying, ‘Give me that chair.’ And at this Daisy pulled a chair quickly from the side of the fireplace and placed it for her mother. And when Annie sat down, she drew in a long slow breath before, looking at her husband, she said quietly, ‘It’s odd, you know. I thought it was only bad news that knocked the stuffing out of you.’

  ‘Aye,’ he nodded at her, ‘I know what you mean, lass. Aye, I know what you mean. But…but what about lettin’ the youngsters open the parcels?’

  At this Annie said, ‘Aye. One at a time though! Let Jean have first pick.’

  Jean had first pick. It was the longest parcel, and when she opened it, to reveal twelve beautifully decorated Christmas crackers, Len muttered, ‘It appears they haven’t forgotten anything.’

  Danny was the next to open one. This proved to be a large flat box holding an assortment of chocolates by a very good maker.

  It was his father who said to Mike, ‘Come on, lad, you have a turn. But for you, nothing like this would have happened.’ The box contained a display of glazed fruits.

  There was now one parcel left. They all turned and looked towards Daisy, and her mother said, ‘Last, but not least, lass.’

  Quietly and without any fuss, Daisy undid the parcel, picked up the box and held it in her hand for a moment. Then lifting up the lid, she stared at the contents.

  There were obviously nine plain envelopes, not those usually holding Christmas cards.

  When she lifted them out she flicked through them before turning swiftly about. Then, to her mother, she said, ‘They’re named, all nine of them.’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Frank made a sound like a giggle as he asked, ‘Is my name on one?’

  ‘Yes,’ and Daisy handed him the envelope. He did not open it immediately; he looked around at the others saying, ‘I’ll leave it until we all have one.’

  ‘Well, well! Who’s going to open theirs first?’ Len said.

  ‘I will,’ cried Danny, ‘because it’s what I did that’s brought all…’

  Before he could get any further Daisy dropped her envelope onto the corner of the table and sprang forward, to grip her brother by the shoulders and shake him, the while yelling, ‘I’m sick of listening to you blowing your own trumpet! Well, let me tell you, nothing would have come of your find if it hadn’t been for our Mike being quick enough to get up and go to Da, and then run to the pollis. If he hadn’t done so, in another half-hour there would have been nothing to find of Sammy.’

  ‘Daisy! Daisy! Give over,’ her mother cried, only to be interrupted by her husband, saying, ‘She’s right, Annie. I’m sick to death meself listening to his twaddle of what he’s done.’ But then turning to his youngest son, he said, ‘But go on. Let him open his envelope.’

  Danny, quiet now, and not only having been literally shaken but mentally so, too, by the fact that his favourite sister could rough him up, opened his letter and drew out a piece of paper and a small card. Holding the piece of paper before his face, he seemed fascinated by the sight of the twenty-pound note. It was his father’s voice, saying, ‘Who’s it from?’ that made him move his eyes to the card and slowly to read out, ‘I owe you more than this, Danny, but I’ll never be able to repay you…Sammy Love.’

  He looked up at his mother who was now staring at the twenty-pound note. And being the little boy he still was, he said, ‘Can I spend some of it, Ma?’

  ‘You can, indeed, son. You can, indeed. But let’s see what Sammy Love says to Mike.’

  All eyes were now turned on Mike and he, as if obeying an order from his mother, opened his envelope. In his case it was to extract a fifty-pound note, and, like his younger brother, he just stared at it. And his colour rose until it reached his black hair, but still he didn’t speak.

  It was Frank who said, ‘Fifty quid! God! Fifty quid, and me offering to stand you drinks. Well, turn and turn about.’

  ‘What’s in the letter, lad?’

  Mike did not answer his father, for he was reading the letter. Then, it seemed as if he was about to crush it in his hand; instead, he handed it to his father. And Len, taking it, said, ‘D’you want me to read it…read it aloud?’

  When Mike still made no reply, Len began, ‘“Like Sammy, I owe you and your brother a debt that can never be repaid. He, to me, is like a son and his loss would have been as grievous. I understand you are out of work. I don’t know what your particular line is, but there are many trades at work on my development, and if you would look in at my office on the third of January, around 10 o’clock, we can have a talk and perhaps I will be able to fix you up with something. Ever gratefully, Yours, William Bailey.”’

  They were all looking at Mike now where he was standing with his head down, still holding the fifty-pound note. But when, quite abruptly, he turned about and, pushing Sep and Harry aside, made for the stairs, his mother thrust out towards Frank a warning finger, which said plainly, shut it!

  It was Sep who broke the silence, saying, ‘I’m glad. I’m glad for him. They are a decent lot there. I’ve been pushed around from one unit to another, but they’re all all right.’ He nodded towards his father and Len said, ‘I’ll have to sit down. It’s all too much for me.’ And he smiled wanly around the rest of his family. Then, looking towards the bottles on the table, he said, ‘It’s at this minute I could do with a reviver. But it’s no use asking for it, Mrs Gallagher, is it?’

  And Annie answered him with a smile, ‘Not a bit of use, Mr Gallagher, not a bit of use. Christmas Day you’ll have your share, the lion’s share. But not until Christmas Day.’

  ‘Well, I think I’ll open my packet and see what luck has dropped into my lap.’

  ‘No! No!’ His wife was again wagging her finger at him. ‘Yours and mine, leave till the last. Let the others have a go. You, Harry.’

  Quickly Harry opened the envelope, and he, too, drew out a twenty-pound note and a card. And his face bright, he said, ‘It just says, “Happy Christmas, Harry, from Willie Bailey”.’

  ‘From Willie?’ Daisy had their attention again, and she looked at her mother, saying, ‘He’s the one who was here that Saturday, you know.’

  ‘Eeh! That is kind, isn’t it?’

  ‘Now you, Sep. Come on, let’s
see what you’ve got.’

  Sep, too, drew out a twenty-pound note and a small card, and reading it aloud, he said, ‘A very happy Christmas, Sep.’ Then, his eyes coming from the card and a wide smile spreading over his face, he said, ‘It’s signed, “Katie Bailey”. Coo! What d’you think of that, Ma, eh? The sharp-tongued one that was here that Saturday. D’you think I could cock me hat for her?’

  There was laughter all round now. Then his father said, ‘Well, come on, Frank, open up.’ But before Frank slit the envelope, he looked back at his father and said, ‘I’m in work. It’ll be “A Happy Christmas”, and that’ll be all.’

  ‘Well,’ Sep put in now, ‘so am I at work, and…and he’s paying me, her da…father.’

  Frank drew out the similar twenty-pound note, then read slowly from the card, ‘“A Happy Christmas, Frank, from Mark Bailey”,’ and he looked hard at his mother before he said quietly, ‘They’ve gone to some trouble, haven’t they, Ma? I’ve never known anything like it. I mean, well, sending me twenty pounds. I had nothing to do with it, and as I said, I’m in work. It looks as if they’ve all got their heads together, or him or his missis drew them all together. But whatever, I’ll say this for them, it’s bloody…well, I will say it, it’s bloody kind of them.’ Now he turned to the girls, saying, ‘Your fingers are burning, both of you. Come on, Jean, open up.’

  From her envelope she extracted a ten-pound note, the card saying, ‘Happy Xmas, from Angela’.

  Jean looked at her mother, and her lips were trembling when she said, ‘Isn’t that nice, Ma?’ And Annie answered, with a break in her voice, ‘Yes, it is, me bairn.’

  Slowly from her envelope Daisy also drew out a note; then for a moment she held it at arm’s length towards her father. After reading the accompanying card she closed her eyes for a moment, before saying, ‘No, no! Well, Ma, look at that!’

  Annie looked at the card. It was a Marks and Spencer voucher for fifty pounds.

  Lastly Daisy drew out a smaller card, and when she read the simple words, ‘“To our friend, with our warmest regards, Katie and Fiona Bailey”,’ she almost rammed the three pieces of paper back into the envelope and, swallowing deeply, she addressed her father, saying aggressively, ‘It’s too much, Da! You can get too much of a good thing. Makes you feel…’

  ‘Now, listen to me, lass! You listen to me!’ Len’s voice was as harsh as her own now. ‘Don’t you start bringing out any of your modern arguments this night. And about this gesture. That’s more than a gesture, let me tell you: I’m looking upon it as a miracle, and I haven’t opened this envelope yet, and neither has your ma. Every one who has written a note in these letters has taken some pleasure in doing so. And, by God, everybody in this house has felt pleasure at what they have received! Now don’t you start, I’m telling you, with your highfalutin arguments. I’m not the priest, or any of that crazy crowd you get in with: independence and modern thinking, and so on, I’ve heard it all. Now, you be grateful.’

  ‘Open your letter, Len.’ Annie’s voice was quiet. ‘I’ve opened mine and I feel like going down on me knees at this moment. Just look at that.’ She was holding out a note for fifty pounds, saying on a small chuckle, ‘And what d’you think it’s signed? Just “A Happy Christmas. Bill Bailey”. Can you believe it? I would sing that to him meself if he was here at this minute, “Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey.” Well, he’s brought some pleasure into this home this night. And you, Len, what’s yours?’

  Len looked at her and said quietly, ‘The same, lass, just the same. But how is anybody going to thank them for this lot?’ He spread his arm out wide, taking in the laden tables. ‘Little notes or a letter don’t seem right to me; somebody should go.’ He turned and looked at Annie, and she said quickly, ‘Well, you know I can’t, now can I?’ Then there was a pause as they both looked at Daisy, and it was her father who said, ‘What about it, lass? Will you go up the morrow and tell them…well, what we feel?’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. They’ll be up to the eyes; they have quite a do up there at Christmas, so I understand.’

  ‘Well, what about slippin’ along the night, lass?’

  ‘Oh, Da, d’you know how often the buses run out there?’

  ‘Buses, be damned! We’ve all got enough money to afford a taxi.’

  ‘I’ll come along with you, Daisy.’ Frank was grinning at her now. ‘I’d like to see that set-up.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort.’ His father had turned on him. ‘If anybody is to go with her, it should be Mike.’

  ‘Oho!’ said Frank. ‘You can see Mike going with her, can’t you?’

  ‘There’s more in Mike than his stubborn temper, I can tell you.’

  ‘Well, I wish I could see it, Da, I do. I wish I could see it at times.’

  When Jean’s voice piped in, ‘You know something, Ma, what’s missing?’ She had all their attention and her mother said, ‘No, miss. What d’you mean, something that’s missing?’

  ‘There’s no cake, no Christmas cake.’

  ‘Well, well.’ Harry punched her gently on the head, saying, ‘She’s right, you know, she’s right. Better phone them and tell them.’

  Daisy had been making for the stairs, and she turned and looked towards her mother, saying, ‘I…I told Mrs Bailey about the Misses Browns always bringing in a Christmas cake on Christmas Eve.’ She did not go on to explain that she had made Fiona laugh by telling her that the Browns had been a bolt-hole for them for years whenever her da had been on the rampage, and that the last time had been when her eldest sister had come home, once again saying she was pregnant. She knew that she had told her all this, and in the process had elaborated in parts, because, like herself, the woman was very upset about Sammy.

  She now went upstairs and knocked on the boxroom door, saying quietly, ‘May I have a word with you, Mike?’

  When the door opened he was standing there in his shirtsleeves. ‘They’re wantin’ me to go up and thank them,’ she said, ‘to take a taxi. But I don’t want to go by meself. Our Frank has offered to come with me, but me da thinks it should be you. Will you come?’

  ‘Up to their house?’

  ‘Aye. Yes.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy, no. I don’t know anybody there.’

  ‘I didn’t know anybody there either. But they’re…well, I can’t say they’re ordinary, but there’s no style. And him, the boss, I tell you he’s as rough as a bit of sandpaper. And I give him as much as he sends.’

  ‘You give him as much…?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded at him, smiling now. ‘He calls me Minnehaha, so, I “ha-ha” him a bit.’

  He turned back into the small room and she followed him. Then, looking at her, he said, ‘It’s impossible to take in there are people like that. That lot of stuff down there the night…’

  ‘Well, Mike, it’s their way of saying thank you. Let’s face it,’ she said, ‘without you there’d be no Sammy Love the night, and they know it. You know something? I walked down there the other day and looked down the mud slope on which they threw him. And it’s true, in another half-hour the tide would have rolled over him, then gently taken him back down!’

  ‘You went there?’ His voice was soft. ‘So did I. On the quiet, like.’

  They shook their heads at each other; then she said, ‘Come on, Mike, Time’s getting on.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy! My clothes aren’t decent.’

  ‘They won’t look at your clothes. Anyway, I was thinking you’re in need of a rig-out and have been for some time. Well, I’ll tell you what: the Oxfam have opened a shop near Brampton Hill, and they get a lot of stuff from there, mostly men’s. One of the storemen from the factory goes there. You should see the lovely overcoat and things he wears. I told our Frank about it, but he’s too big-headed to go. I want a few things an’ all. So, what about popping in the morrow, that’s if it’s open, eh?’

  ‘I’ll do that, Daisy. Yes, because I know what I mean to do with this money and that’s to get mesel
f a decent rig-out.’

  ‘Well, roll on the morrow. But come on now, get your coat. Put a scarf on, because it’ll cut you in two out there.’

  He laughed now, quite a merry laugh, as he said, ‘Look who’s talking about being cut in two, you with your backside bare. How on earth are you not frozen, lass, in that get-up?’

  ‘Me tights keep me warm.’

  ‘They can’t. Anyway, between you and me, you’ve grown out of that kind of rig-out, haven’t you?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’ And she laughed as she added, ‘Funny! If I came in the morrow with a frock on and me hair brown, it would shake them, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘It would that. Yes, it would that. But don’t do it all at once. It’s like trying to give up smoking; you’d only be back the next day in your shorts.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t know, you don’t know. Come on. Come on.’ …

  In the kitchen, her mother made no remark on her son appearing with Daisy. ‘Well, you’re off,’ she said. ‘Now listen, both of you. Just tell them’—she nodded now—‘in your own words, just tell them that it’s been the greatest night of our lives.’

  ‘I’ll tell them, Ma.’

  ‘Wrap up, lass.’

  Daisy looked at her father and, her voice cocky again, she said, ‘I am wrapped up, Da, or I’m going to wrap up.’

  When the door closed on them, Len said to Annie, ‘D’you know something, lass? They must be a very unusual family to take her as she is, at least outwardly.’

  ‘Yes, Len; but perhaps, like you, they can see beneath her surface.’

  There were lights streaming from all the windows at the front of the house as they walked up the path to the front door. Her hand on the bell, Daisy whispered, ‘Don’t look like that, Mike. It’ll be all right.’

  There was the sound of voices and laughter from the other side of the door, and when the ringing of the bell caused one voice to rise above the rest, saying, ‘Well, you’re nearest; see to it,’ they glanced at each other again; and then the door was pulled open and Willie gasped, ‘Daisy!’ before yelling over his shoulder, ‘It’s Daisy! Mam…’ Then putting out his hand towards Daisy, he pulled her over the step. And when the man with her followed, he looked at him. ‘Mike?’ he said. ‘It is Mike, isn’t it?’