The Bondage of Love

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Yes, you may, Mr Ferndale. I’ve come with a proposition.’

  ‘Of what?’ His head moved to the side and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘I’ll repeat the word: proposition. First of all, I must tell you that your son is not only a liar, but he is a coward and a dirty swine.’

  She watched the man’s face stretch and his jaw come out, and as he was about to speak she unloosened the belt of Fiona’s raincoat, and so exposed her partly naked top: her school blouse was hanging as it had done last night; her brassière strap had been torn from the material and one cup of it was hanging loose over her left breast. Then letting the raincoat drop to the floor, she pulled the sleeve of her bloodstained coat to the side to expose her shoulder. And lastly, she pulled the middle of the brassière down and pointed to the two red weals marking her breast. And now she said, ‘Look at me! This is how your son left me last night when he tried to rape me. But he didn’t expect what he got. And let me tell you, sir, it’s a wonder I didn’t throttle him, and I could have done.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about, girl?’ The voice thundered almost as loudly as Bill’s would have done, and she said, ‘Do I have to explain? Your cowardly son tried to rape me. He waited in Laburnum Walk for me, right in the dark part at the middle, and snatched me. And I soon realised his flies were already open.’

  ‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God!’ The man now turned and looked at his wife who, by now, was standing two steps up from the hall and supporting herself against the balustrade.

  ‘Yes, you can say that, Mrs Ferndale: Oh my God! Oh, my God! That’s what I yelled out. And my friend, Sammy Love, whom I was to meet at the end of the Walk, heard me, and it was he who tore me off your son, and saved him from being throttled. Then he pushed me away and I was on the verge of collapse. And, quite candidly, I didn’t know where I was until I reached the end of the Walk, and there I vomited. If you want proof of that, you’ll likely find it there this morning!’

  ‘She’s…she’s mad! It’s lies! She’s mad! She’s mad!’

  ‘I’m not mad now, Mrs Ferndale, but I was last night. Your son has trailed me for weeks. Oh, longer than that. I repulsed him last year with one of my ju-jitsu tricks, and he has been on the lookout for me since. But last night I used every trick I knew, and if he’s alive it’s Mr Sammy Love you’ve got to thank for it. But your cowardly son couldn’t bear to let anybody think that he had been done over by a girl not half his size, so he pins it on Sammy.’

  ‘I don’t believe it! I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Shut up, woman! And you, get yourself away!’ he yelled at the staring maid. Then, drawing in a long deep breath, he said, ‘Come in here a minute, miss. And you, too!’ He turned on his wife.

  ‘No! No! I must go—’

  ‘You must damn well not go to him. I’ll be the one who’ll go to him. Come down and into the drawing room this minute.’

  Katie watched the tall, thin woman step down into the hall and follow her husband, very like an automaton would have done, for each movement was stiff, as if she had to force her feet forward.

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ve more to say, and I’ll say it standing. I’ll begin by telling you that I kept your son’s name from my father last night, because I was afraid of what he would do; more than likely he would have finished what I began. But it was you, yourself, who came on the phone and gave him the name that I had withheld. It then took my mother all her time to stop him from coming over here.’ This wasn’t quite true but it added to the effect. Then she went on, ‘But what he intends to do is to have me at the police station between half past nine and ten this morning, an hour before your demand that he should meet you in your chambers, by which time he would have laid a charge of rape against your son. With this evidence.’ She flapped her hand against her chest, and, as she did so, she was aware that the woman’s face turned away as if in disgust. Then she went on, ‘I’ve no need to apologise for my father’s manner. But I’ll leave you to guess what will happen in that police station; and as there’s always a reporter kicking around a police station, so this town would be ablaze before the day’s over. And my father would leave out no detail, from my torn clothes to my bleeding breast, and his flies, as I said, already open.’

  ‘Girl! Girl! You’re indecent!’

  The woman had been seated, but now she was on her feet, and her husband, turning on her, yelled ‘Of course she’s indecent. She’s been made so by your son…our son. God forgive me that I’ve got to say he is mine. And I’ve warned you for years, haven’t I? Oh! Go on up, now, and bring him down.’

  ‘I can’t! I can’t!’ Her voice now was firm and cold. ‘He’s not well. You’ve seen how he is.’

  ‘All right: he won’t come down, then we’ll go up. Come on, girl.’

  ‘You can’t! I forbid it.’

  Katie watched the husband and wife facing each other, and for a moment she felt sad as she saw the actual hate that emanated from each of them.

  ‘Come on.’ He beckoned Katie towards him, and she hesitated for a moment before following him.

  When she reached the galleried landing, her whole body began to tremble. She felt like putting her hand out to the man in front and saying, ‘No. No, I don’t want to see him. I can’t.’ But then the bedroom door was thrust open, and she could see the man propped up in bed. He’d had a cup in his hand, but he now thrust it onto the bedside table, and pulled himself up straight, then stared wide-eyed at his father. And when the man yelled, ‘Come in,’ she was unable to move until the father took her arm and pulled her into the room.

  She looked at the figure in the bed. There were red weals down both sides of his cheeks. One eye was slightly discoloured and his lower lip was swollen. But the expression she saw on his face was indescribable, going beyond fear into terror. The skin had turned so pale that the scratches and bruises stood out as if they had been painted there. He now fell back against the bedhead, and was drawing in his breath as if he were gasping, and what he muttered was, ‘I…I didn’t. I didn’t. I mean, well…’

  ‘What do you mean?’ His father was standing by the head of the bed now. ‘Look at her breast. The nipple’s the size of a walnut. And you drew blood there, didn’t you?’

  ‘Mother! Mother!’

  ‘Oh, don’t pass out. She got you out of playing rugby, but she won’t get you out of this. A jug of water will soon revive you.’

  ‘She’s…she’s mad.’

  ‘Well, who made her mad?’

  ‘I…I only tried to…to k…kiss her.’

  ‘With your flies open?’

  ‘They…they weren’t!’

  ‘You’re a liar.’ The words were forced from Katie. She now moved a step towards the bed and added, ‘And you’re a dirty coward. You couldn’t bear to be beaten up by a girl, could you? It would take some living down; and if my father has anything to do with it you never will.’

  George Ferndale turned now and, taking her arm, he said quietly, ‘Come along. Come along. As you say, it will take some living down.’

  Downstairs once more, he said, ‘I’ll put things right.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, I know you will. But there’s something more.’

  ‘More?’ His voice had risen again. ‘What more?’

  ‘Sammy Love will not only be accused of assault and battery, or whatever terms they use, but, because he was so enraged when they wouldn’t believe that he had just come across your son and was helping him to get to his feet, he swore at the police. More than swore at them, I understand. But what is even worse in their eyes, he threatened to throw one and, I think, actually attempted to.’

  She watched the man before her close his eyes, then say, ‘Dear, dear! Well…well, that’s another case, isn’t it?’

  ‘No. No, it isn’t. It’s all the same case.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I just mean this. I must get Sammy out of that place before my father reaches it this morning, and I’ve m
ade arrangements with my brother to keep him at home until half past nine, to beg him to stay there until then; and only to come to the police station when I expect Sammy will be free, and through your intervention.’

  ‘I cannot go against the police.’

  ‘No, but the chief inspector can, and he’s a friend of yours and lives four doors away.’

  George Ferndale’s eyebrows seemed to strain towards his hair as his nose tended to move downwards, while his mouth opened, then closed. He did not speak, but just seemed to be waiting for her next words. She uttered them, saying, ‘You could slip along and ask him as a favour to inform the men of the Dene Street station, that last night never happened, or whatever way he likes to put it. But if Sammy isn’t freed from that charge too, and is not at liberty by half past nine, then I promise you my father will be there and I will do what he is dead set on me doing, name your son as my assailant and attempted rapist.’ She watched the big head move slowly from side to side, and then he uttered one word, ‘Now?’

  ‘Well, the time’s going on. It’s getting on for half past eight, and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for, and that is, to use a word with which you are familiar, justice, for someone who has been wrongly imprisoned.’

  ‘He hasn’t been imprisoned yet.’ There was a terseness in the tone.

  ‘He’s spent a night in jail. If that isn’t imprisonment I don’t know what you would call it. Anyway, there it is.’ She turned now and picked up her mackintosh from the chair, and, putting it on, she tightened the belt while he stood staring at her quite speechless. Then, as he made for the stairs, he paused and turned to her again, saying, ‘What guarantee have I that if you get all your demands your father won’t still go to the station?’

  ‘I can assure you he won’t if Sammy is outside by the time he arrives. And to be on the safe side, that should be half past nine. From then on, some time will be taken up by him going for me; then the rest is up to you.’

  ‘The rest?’ It was an enquiry, and she answered it swiftly, ‘Yes, the rest.’ She added, ‘You ordered my father to be at your chambers at half past ten, likely to give him a dressing down for championing his adopted son. But now the boot’s on the other foot: he will tell you where you stand.’

  When, in a sarcastic tone, he said, ‘Will you grant me time to dress?’ she did not answer, but as she watched him going quickly up the stairs, she put her hand out and groped towards the wooden hall chair, and sat down.

  In less than five minutes he reappeared, dressed in a dark blue suit with a grey-striped tie, then went to a hall wardrobe and took out a dark overcoat. He did not look towards Katie—it seemed to be agreed that she should sit there and await his return—but he had just reached the front door when his wife appeared from a further door across the hall, and she called to him, ‘Where are you going? Your breakfast is ready.’

  ‘I don’t want any breakfast.’

  She came hurrying towards him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To Arthur’s.’

  ‘To Arthur’s!’ The exclamation came in a high voice, and she repeated, ‘Arthur’s? Why?’

  ‘Because I want his help. Without it, I’m informed’—he now nodded slowly to where Katie was sitting—‘we’ll be headlined in the papers by this evening. Would you like that, madam?’

  The woman now turned and looked at Katie, and she actually cried, ‘She wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘Oh, yes, she would, my dear. That young lady is an unusual individual. So, I am going to Arthur, and Jean can come in and console you later.’

  With that he stepped past her, pulled open the door and went out, while she, turning, walked slowly towards Katie, and when she stopped, she was wringing her hands.

  She spoke as if the words were being forced through her teeth. ‘You are a wicked girl,’ she said. ‘Wicked! He would have never attempted any such thing if you hadn’t encouraged him. He could get any girl he wanted, so why should he want to take you?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve asked him, Mrs Ferndale. The only reason he wanted to take me was because he couldn’t get me. I wasn’t easy bait. And he couldn’t bear the thought of any girl turning her nose up at him. Oh, no! And I’ve always turned my nose up at him, because I’ve known from the first that he was no good. To put it in common parlance, your son is an empty nowt.’

  The woman’s teeth were actually clenched now, and she swallowed twice before she muttered, ‘And you, girl, are like your father, as common as dirt, and as pretentious as your mother with her act of false refinement.’

  ‘Well, if that’s how you see them, that’s your opinion. But I wouldn’t want to hurt you any more than you have been this morning by telling you their opinion of you. But I’ll say this: it’s mainly to do with your lack of intelligence.’

  She thought the woman was about to drop at her feet, because she swayed now and gasped a number of times before turning away.

  If Katie could have been amused at anything while she sat waiting, it would have been the sight of the young maid making frequent visits across the hall, and always her look directed towards herself, as if she were a creature from another planet.

  She was shivering again. Her insides seemed loose within their casing. She knew she had been very rude to the woman. What she had said would have been applauded by Bill, but not by her mother. She asked herself now what the next move would be if the chief inspector found it impossible to help his friend and stop that particular section of the force from making charges? Yet, she was aware there were wheels within wheels: she had only to listen to her dad talking to her mother about the workings of the trust, and the handouts here and there so that things should run smoothly. Bill had a saying, ‘You can’t have too many friends at court.’ But one of those friends, Mr George Ferndale, barrister, would definitely be one no more; nor would the inspector of police, who had been, if not a friend at court, on the list of court acquaintances, being a member of the same club.

  She glanced at her wristwatch. It showed twenty minutes to nine.

  When the hands had moved to ten to, she got to her feet, and as she did so the front door opened and George Ferndale entered. After he had closed the door he leant against it for a moment before straightening up and saying, ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know your plan has worked. And, in a strange way, I suppose I’ve got to thank you for going to all this trouble. But I quite understand it wasn’t to save my face, and certainly not that of my son, but in the main I see it as your attempt to quell the reactions of your impetuous stepfather and the consequences of his outburst which might have affected his business. Am I right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded at him, ‘you’re right. I wouldn’t have wished to see him lose all he has worked for over the years. Not that the trust could have taken the contract away from him, but they could have squashed his further plans, which you will undoubtedly have already heard of, concerning the ten acres of building land on Bishop’s Farm.’

  ‘You’re very well informed.’

  ‘We are a close-knit family.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, you are that.’ He nodded at her slowly. And, as she looked at him, again she felt sorry that she’d had to take this stand, because he looked and sounded weary. Then he said, ‘By the time you reach the station, your friend will have been released.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She was now making for the door when he said, ‘Have you got your career mapped out?’

  ‘Not really. I’m sitting for my A levels in June.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Eighteen next birthday.’

  ‘Why don’t you try the law? You’ve got all the makings of an advocate. There are lots of women barristers these days.’

  She did not know whether or not he was laughing at her, so she answered pertly, ‘Yes, I could give it a try. I’m not likely to make more of a hash of it than the rest.’

  He actually smiled at her now, then quietly he voiced his real thoughts by saying, ‘Whatever you do, it must be something where you
can use your voice and your rational reasoning.’

  They stared at each other. Then she answered him quietly, saying, ‘Thank you, and…and I’m sorry that I have had to act as I have done.’

  She had to blink quickly to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. And now he put his hand out and lightly touched her arm as he said, ‘Don’t worry, my dear. I too am sorry that you have had to act as you have done, particularly so that you have had to suffer under my son’s hands. Believe me, particularly so about that.’

  She drooped her head. Then he opened the door and she went out.

  She did not hurry towards the police station because she was endeavouring to calm herself. All she wanted to do now was to cry, to lie down and cry. She felt utterly tired, sapped. She only hoped her dad wouldn’t make a scene when he arrived, because that would finish her. She couldn’t cope with much more.

  When she entered Dene Street it was to see Sammy in the distance. He was standing on the kerb, and on the sight of her he hurried towards her, his hands outstretched. And she just stopped herself from falling against him.

  ‘They’ve…they’ve just let me out. They said I…I had to wait for you.’

  ‘That’s all they said?’

  ‘Oh, something about pending, case pending. Oh, Katie! Oh, Katie! Am I glad to see you. I know what me da went through in there. Oh, I’ll never do a wrong thing in my life; it puts the fear of God into you. Where’s…where’s Mr B?’

  ‘He should be here at any minute. It’s a long story. I…I can’t talk now. Oh, there’s the car. Oh, thank God!’

  He looked at her, then took her arm. And when the car drew up against the kerb, she put her head in the window and said, ‘Dad, don’t get out. Please, don’t get out! Mam, let…let Sammy sit there, and you come in the back with me, please. Please!’