The Bondage of Love

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Oh, my goodness! My goodness me!’

  ‘Is she asleep?’

  ‘No. No; she’s in her dressing gown. She won’t let me have her clothes. I mean, the ones that are ripped, and they’re all bloody. And she says she knows who attacked her, but she won’t say the name. Why?’

  ‘Don’t ask me why, woman.’ He pushed past her and into the drawing room. ‘I’ve just left one who’s given me the same answers. At least, that was after I passed on the message she wanted me to give to him. It’ll all be clear tomorrow, she said…The things that happen in this house. I wonder what next. Get me a drink, Willie, will you? Oh, I forgot, stay where you are with that cold; I’ll get it meself.’

  ‘You won’t get it yourself. Sit down.’

  Fiona almost pushed him onto the couch, then, as she went from the room, Bill’s voice followed her, saying, ‘As you say, missis, things that happen in this house. We never seem to be out of police clutches these days. Sammy, Mamie, and now Katie and, of course…’

  ‘And, of course, Sammy again.’

  Bill now turned to Willie, saying, ‘I’ve never seen him look so lost, Willie. It nearly broke me up. There was his father all over again.’

  Willie said quietly, ‘Sammy isn’t fit yet to tackle anyone with karate, or judo, or anything else. He still has pains in his side, you know, from that do.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘Katie must have gone berserk. She says herself that she did. And I’m glad she did, else God knows what would have happened to her.’

  ‘Was there anybody after her at the Centre?’

  ‘No, not that I know of. She was well liked. But she never encouraged any of the blokes in either classes and none of them have made a pass at her, I’m sure. They’re a decent lot, you know, Dad. Most of them are from Bog’s End, but they’re better than some of the others; at least, towards girls. Some of those fellas think they’re God’s gifts, you know.’ Then he shook his head, saying, ‘No, there’s nobody I could think of who would attempt that on her. But it’s somebody that she knows and Sammy knows. And why she’s keeping quiet beats me.’

  ‘And me. Yes, and me.’

  Bill took the glass of whisky from Fiona’s hand, saying, ‘Thanks, dear.’ Then, ‘Has she cried a lot?’

  ‘No. No, not after the first bout. And she says she doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s had a bath, and I saw—’ When she stopped, Bill said, ‘You saw what?’

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Mam’—Willie’s voice was quiet—‘I’m not a kid. I was brought up with Katie, you know.’

  ‘He’s right,’ said Bill. ‘What did you see?’

  Fiona drew in a deep breath, then said, ‘Her breast is all marked, almost black and blue in one part where he gripped her. And his nails have torn the skin, and it must have bled. She has two deep scratches down her chest where her blouse was ripped. Moreover, there’s a dark bruise on one shoulder.’

  There was a moment’s pause before Bill said, ‘My God! I wish I could get me hands on him.’ And to this, Fiona put in immediately, ‘That’s what she’s afraid of, I think.’

  ‘So I know him?’

  ‘Well, you must in a way. I’ve racked my brains and I can’t think who we know would do such a thing, attempt such a thing.’

  ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘She’s in the little sitting room.’

  When he made as if to rise, she said, ‘Leave her, Bill. If you go in there you’ll only bring it all up. And she doesn’t want to talk about it, not tonight, anyway. When I went to sit with her, she asked me to leave her. Yes, she did. She said, “I’ll be all right, Mam. Just leave me alone. I want to think.”’

  ‘What does she want to think about?’

  ‘Bill! Bill!’ She closed her eyes and turned her head away. ‘I don’t really know. She’s got something on her mind…There’s the phone ringing.’ She got up and went out of the room. But within a moment she was back, saying, ‘It’s…it’s George, George Ferndale.’

  ‘George? What does he want? I only left him an hour or so ago at the club.’

  He marched into the hall, picked up the phone and said, ‘Hello, there. Anything amiss?’

  There was a short silence before the words came, ‘Need you ask?’

  ‘Aye. Yes, I need ask, George, because I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, I thought you would know by now. You’ve been to the police station, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’

  ‘To see that young Irish skit? I can say this because he’s none of your flesh or blood. But he’s definitely his father’s son.’

  ‘Yes, he’s his father’s son. And his father was one of the best men I’ve known. All right, he was ready with his fists—’

  ‘Well,’ the voice broke in now, ‘the son, let me tell you, is not only ready with his fists, but with his feet too. You should see my son’s groin.’

  ‘Your son’s groin?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said. It’s black and blue. As for his face, I doubt if he’ll ever get rid of the marks, nail deep.’

  Bill brought his head back from the mouthpiece. He couldn’t believe it. Young Roland Ferndale…he had tried it on her, and Katie had beaten him up.

  The voice came to him now, saying, ‘I feel no compunction in pressing the charge. You’ll likely find some excuse and wish to contest it. Well, I’ll be in my chambers at half past ten tomorrow morning.’

  Bill was about to bawl into the phone when the line went dead. He’d be in his chambers at half past ten tomorrow morning. Well, by God, he’d beat him to it! By that time, he’d be at the police station, and not alone. No. He swung about, went to the drawing room where the door was open and called, ‘Come along! You’ll hear something.’

  Both Fiona and Willie hurried down the room and followed him into the little sitting room where Katie was curled up in the corner of a big chair. And Bill greeted her with, ‘What d’you mean, you silly little bitch, by keeping this to yourself?’ He now swung round to Fiona, saying, ‘Roland Ferndale!’

  ‘What! You mean…? Oh, no.’

  ‘Oh, yes! Yes! What d’you think George Ferndale wanted me on the phone for? It was to tell me what he was going to do with Sammy for knocking his son about. He said that if Sammy had been my own flesh and blood, he might have thought twice, or words to that effect. But being the son of Davey Love, whom he had helped to send along the line, he’s going to go the whole hog now and charge him.’ Turning now to Katie he said, ‘Why, girl, did you keep your mouth shut?’

  Katie unwound herself from the chair and, drawing herself to its edge, she looked up at him and said, ‘I had my reasons. I knew if I told you who it was, you, in your tactful fashion, would go and raise hell. And he’s the big noise on the trust, isn’t he? And—’

  ‘Blast the trust!’

  ‘Yes, that’s what you would have said, blast the trust! And blasted your future plans with it. I wanted time to think of a way out, and I have thought of something.’

  ‘Well, would you mind enlightening me, miss?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. You’re the last person I would enlighten.’

  Bill drooped his head deep onto his chest. And now Fiona said, ‘Sit down. Don’t you realise that what she’s done, she’s done for—?’

  ‘Yes; yes, woman, I realise that. Of course, I do. But I’m not depending on George Ferndale; there’s other men on the trust. Oh, yes. Yes, he’s a big noise and knows the law, and by the sound of it, he means to do something with it tomorrow. He’s bidden me to be at his office by half past ten, and I’ll be there. Oh yes, I’ll be there. And you,’ he now took hold of Katie’s hand, ‘you will be with me. Tomorrow morning you put on your school rig again. I’ll take you to the station and have you examined by a policewoman.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort, Dad.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll see who’s going to be boss tomorrow morning. Oh, yes, we’ll see. In any case, there’ll still be two charge
s of a sort for that stupid young bugger to face’—he turned to Fiona now—‘for using bad language and aiming to tackle a policeman. Can you believe it?’

  ‘He didn’t, did he?’

  Bill had turned to Katie again, and his voice was calmer as he said, ‘Yes, lass, he did. And by what I can gather from himself, he acted pretty much as his father would have done. In fact’—he now nodded from Fiona to Willie—‘he told me he thought his dad was there with him, as he had been on the night they trussed him up. My idea is, he was suffering from concussion then and the effects of it have remained with him, and he’s a bit nervous about it.’

  ‘Poor Sammy.’

  Bill looked at Willie now and repeated, ‘You can say that again, lad; poor Sammy.’ Then turning to Katie, he added, ‘I’m sorry, lass, I went for you, but it was out of concern. Believe me, it was out of concern, because I can see now why you were doing it. I would, yes, I would have gone down there and finished off the job that you started on that fella. By God, I would! And if ever I get my hands on him we’ll arrange for some reparation. Oh, yes! The dirty pig. But why you? By what I’ve gleaned from his mother, he’s a great favourite with the girls, so why has he picked on you for this?’

  Katie drooped her head as she said, ‘Because I wouldn’t have anything to do with him. He pestered me at one time and I went for him then. But he’s a big head and can’t bear to think there’s somebody not falling over themselves for him.’

  After staring at her for a moment, he patted her hand, then turned to Fiona, saying, ‘Get her to bed. It’s going to be a busy day the morrow. By, it is!’ Then, bending forward, he kissed Katie on the cheek.

  When Bill was left alone with Willie, he said to him, ‘This town will ring with some news the morrow, boy. Just you wait and see.’

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Yes? What is it?’ He turned back to Willie, but Willie didn’t speak for some seconds, then he said, ‘Somehow, that’s what she doesn’t want. That’s what she’s been trying to avoid.’

  ‘Oh, I know, because she thinks it’ll do me harm in the business. But damn the business!’

  ‘Yes, that may be the main point, but there’s another, Dad. I don’t think she wants it known that she’s capable of knocking someone out, a man especially, because that’s what he is; he’s nearly nineteen and he’s big with it. Well, she doesn’t want it tacked on to her that she roughed him up in a way that even a man mightn’t have been capable of. You see, she possesses all the tricks in the judo and karate games now. And she’s hoping that her A levels will get her into university next year, and people being what they are, she could be shunned. I don’t think she thought all that out really, but Sammy must have when he made her go away and leave the rest to him. Remember what she did to Rupert’s girl, and Rupert himself: she went into a fury that day, and it must have been the same tonight, or even worse, because it would have been a hand-to-hand battle with him.’

  Bill looked at Willie in silence. Here was one of the family whose tongue ran away with him at times, yet he had clearly dissected his sister’s feelings in this matter, and very likely he was right. Oh, yes, more than very likely. But still he was sorry that, in this case, he couldn’t see it her way. To all intents and purposes he was her father, and a father who would put up with his daughter being raped to save his business wasn’t worth a spit. No, he was taking her, not to the chambers, but to the police station, tomorrow morning. He continued to look at Willie as his thoughts ran on. Willie was a nice lad, that was the word for him, nice, and strangely, like himself, he had no feeling for class, hence his persistence in trailing Daisy. Funny, he thought, but he could be my own son, because where class is concerned we’re both on the same wavelength. And like Willie, he too opened his mouth often and put his foot in it. And there was a third thing; deep down he cared for people. Aye, he did.

  He put his hand on Willie’s shoulder now, saying, ‘We all need an early night; get yourself upstairs. I’ll lock up. Goodnight, Willie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Dad.’

  Two hours later Willie was woken from sleep, and he blinked into the light of the torch as he muttered, ‘What is it? Who is it?’

  ‘Shh! It’s me, Katie.’

  ‘What’s the matter? What time is it?’

  ‘It’s a quarter to twelve.’

  ‘Some…somebody bad?’

  ‘No. Listen. Do something for me, will you?’

  Willie pulled himself up in the bed, ran his hands through his thick hair, then said, ‘Well, if I can. What is it?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning I want you to tell Dad not to kick up a fuss or phone anybody, because I’ll have gone on an errand. But tell him to be at the police station between half past nine and ten. He was going to be there in any case. But when he finds me gone, you know him, he’ll kick up a dust.’

  ‘You going out now?’ Willie pulled himself further up in the bed, and she hissed back at him, ‘No! No, I’m not. But I’ll be leaving the house about seven. I’ll tell you this much, I’ll be catching the workmen’s bus.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’ll know later, Willie. I…I know how to straighten this thing out without it affecting Dad. Because, you know, once he gets going, he’ll say things he’s sorry for. And it’s all right in the house, but he’s got a business to carry on.’

  ‘He doesn’t care a damn about the business. Well, what I mean is, that comes second to you.’

  ‘I know that. But there’ll be no need if you’ll only do what I tell you.’

  ‘Where are you going in the morning?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later. You’ll know all about it then. Just leave it to me. And do this for me, will you? On no account let him go to the station before that time. Anyway, I’ll likely be waiting for him outside, if not inside.’

  ‘What’re you up to, Katie?’

  ‘I’m up to nothing. But I can straighten this thing out in my own way if I’m left alone. Will you do that?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll do that. But I can tell you, it’ll be like keeping a tiger in a rabbit hutch.’

  She put out her hand now, saying on a small laugh, ‘A good description.’

  He caught at her hand as he whispered, ‘Well, whatever you do, I’m with you. You know that, Katie. And I’m glad you laid him out.’

  ‘Goodnight, Willie.’

  ‘Goodnight, Katie, and don’t worry, I’ll do as you say and hang on to him.’

  The seven o’clock bus was the first bus of the morning, and it was full of workmen who all seemed to know each other, and, without exception, eyed the young lass in the long mackintosh and woollen hat.

  She had to go to the back of the bus where sat three men, and they moved along the seat to make room for her.

  ‘A sharp morning, miss,’ said one of them.

  ‘Yes. Yes, it is very cold.’

  ‘Get fed up with dark mornings,’ said another. ‘Can’t see your way to work.’

  ‘A good excuse for being late,’ put in a laughing voice. ‘But you wouldn’t need that, would you, Dickie?’

  She sat listening to the backchat, mostly put on for her benefit. And when the bus reached the market place she was the only one who rose to get off.

  The three men on the back seat all said, ‘Goodbye, miss.’ And one added, ‘As the Americans say, have a nice day.’

  She turned and smiled at him, and what she said, was, ‘I intend to.’ Which left them not a little puzzled.

  She knew that the Ferndales’ house was called Willow House and that it was situated in Lime Avenue. This had come to her knowledge some time ago. It was when her Dad had been remarking on the number of law people that lived in this district and that the police inspector’s sumptuous house was only four large gardens away from George Ferndale’s. And this, she was thinking as she covered the ten minutes’ walk from the town centre to the avenue, couldn’t be better for her purpose.

  She had entered the gate and was halfway up the drive and in sight of
the front of the house when it was suddenly illuminated by strong beams of light, and she knew she must have passed a trigger point. This kind of protection was being taken up by a lot of people in the town, so it didn’t deter her. But it showed her up in the bright light when the door was opened to her knock and a maid peered at her, saying, ‘Yes? What is it? What d’you want?’

  ‘I wish to see Mr Ferndale.’

  ‘Eeh! Who are you? He doesn’t have visitors at this time in the morning. Are you selling something?’

  Katie’s voice soon disabused her of the idea that she was the kind of person who would be selling something when she said, ‘No, I am not selling something. And will you kindly tell your master that Miss Bailey is downstairs and wishes to see him?’ Then she put her hand out, saying, ‘Don’t close the door on me.’ And, stepping into the hall, she said, ‘I’ll wait here.’

  The maid, who was dressed in a blue-print dress to which was attached a working apron, now stooped and picked up a dustpan and brush from the floor, all the while keeping her eyes on Katie. Then she muttered, ‘He won’t like it. He’s just finished his shower. He’s…You had better wait until he comes down.’

  ‘I’m not waiting till he comes down. If you don’t go up now and tell him, I will present myself in his bedroom. How does that appear to you?’

  The girl, who was in her late teens, stared open-mouthed at the visitor; then turning, she hurried towards the stairs, but remembering what she was carrying, she again laid down the dustpan and brush. And it was only a minute later when she heard a man’s voice saying, ‘What?’

  Then a woman’s voice saying, ‘What is it? What is it?’

  ‘The Bailey girl is downstairs.’

  The man’s words came clearly to her and she nodded to herself, saying, yes, the Bailey girl is downstairs.

  When George Ferndale reached the bottom stair, he stood peering at her; but there was no need to peer because the hall was brilliantly lit by a chandelier. Then stepping down, he took three paces towards her before he stopped and said, ‘May I ask the reason for this early visit, Miss Bailey?’