Harry’s voice was quiet with just the slightest note of anxiety in it. ‘I…just called to see if my boy was here,’ he said.
‘Your boy here? What would your boy be wanting here? I was for coming along to you to see if the child was with you.’
‘She’s not in?’
‘Would I be coming along to see you if she wasn’t in? Talk sense, man.’
Harry lowered his head for a moment, bit on his lip, and said patiently, ‘If John is going anywhere that will take him some little time, he always leaves me a note. I got back in the house just after three; it is now six and he hasn’t returned. All I wanted to know was if he was here.’
‘Well, he’s not here. Neither is she. The pair of them have gone off somewhere, and your lad being the age he is should have had more sense.’
‘He has sense, plenty of it.’ Harry’s tone was brusque. ‘That’s why I’m worried. He has certain chores to do, special ones around four o’clock; he’s never missed them yet.’
The two men now stared at each other until Joseph Dodd in a slightly mollified tone said, ‘They’ve likely gone down to the shore, and…and once that young ’un starts talking time slips by.’
‘I’ve been down to the shore.’
Joseph blinked rapidly, then muttered, ‘You have?’
‘Yes; there’s no sign of them there. There were some people on the beach and I enquired if they had seen anything of them but they said no, and they had been there since dinner time.’
‘Have you been to the village?’
‘Not as yet. I’m on my way there now. But John doesn’t often go into the village, not unless he has to.’ As he went to turn away, Harry Thompson paused and said, ‘There’s the Pictons; their lads had a go at John last week.’
‘I’ve just come from their place. Their two scallywags were up to their necks in charcoal so to speak; the old man had kept them at it all day.’
‘I’ll call on me way back.’
‘Very good.’
They nodded at each other; then Joseph turned indoors again. And now he flopped down in his chair and, his hands gripping the wooden arms, his body made a slight swaying movement as if he were rocking himself. Of a sudden he had a dreadful feeling on him. What if something had happened to her! But what could happen to her if she was with the lad? But what if something had happened to them both!
Aw! He now screwed himself back into the chair and tossed his head impatiently. Fancies. Fancies. What had likely happened was that she had got talking to the boy and kept on talking and so inveigled him into taking her for a tramp over the fells. Anything, he supposed, to keep her clear of this house and himself.
He became still in the chair; then his voice a mere whisper, he said aloud, ‘But I haven’t been hard on her…not really. Shout, aye, I’ve shouted at her. But I’ve fed her well; and…and I’ve put up with her chatter…’
Again he was looking around the room. If anything had happened to her his life would become like an empty shell. He had thought it was empty before, but if she were never to return the whole world would become a void and he would be lost in it.
In the name of God, what was the matter with him!
He was on his feet now and making for the door when he was again startled by a rapping on it, a loud rap this time.
When he opened it he stood staring at the fat, bright-faced woman before him. She looked to him like something that had dropped out of a picture book printed in the early part of the century. She was wearing a long black coat that showed at its neck the collar of a striped blouse. On her head was a flat straw hat that had once been blue but was now a dusty shade of grey, and the watered ribbon round its band had even faded to a dingy white in parts.
‘Hello there. You Mr Dodd?’
‘Yes, I’m Mr Dodd.’
‘Aw well, I’m pleased to see you. I never thought I’d get here. Just a step, she said, from the cottage. A mile if it’s an inch. Me feet’s killin’ me. I’ll come in a minute and sit down.’
He effectively blocked her entrance by thrusting his arm out in front of her and growling, ‘Who are you anyway?’
‘Me name’s Golightly, Mrs Golightly.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said me name’s Golightly.’
‘Golightly!’ His voice sounded like an echo to a far call.
‘Yes, that’s what I said, Golightly. Are you deaf? Now if you’ll just let me in an’ I can get off me feet for a minute…’
He lowered his arm, turned his body to the side, and watched the strange bundle of clothes wobble towards the table and slowly lower itself down into a chair.
As he just as slowly moved towards her, Mrs Golightly let out a long sigh and, turning her head, she cocked her eyes up at him, saying, ‘So you’re Joe Dodd. Well, well, well! So you’re the grandpa. Well, well, well!’
‘Golightly?’
Mrs Golightly now narrowed her eyes and leaned forward in the chair, saying slowly, ‘What’s wrong with you? It’s me name…Golightly. Surely you haven’t to keep repeating it in order to remember it. It’s not a common name, Golightly. Anyway’—she looked around her—‘where’s the child?’
‘The child?’
‘In the name of God, must you keep repeatin’ things! First Golightly, and now the child. Yes, Bella, you know, the little girl.’ She now measured about three feet from the ground with her hand. ‘Bella, Bella Dodd, who I’ve been given to understand has been stayin’ with you for weeks past. An’ if you’re not any better for her company, then all I can say is there must be something wrong with you, for as I’ve said afore, an’ to her little face, she’s joy unconfined…What’s wrong with you?’
Joseph was now sitting in his chair staring at her, and his voice was unusually quiet as he said, ‘There’s been a misunderstanding.’
‘A misunderstanding? What kind of a misunderstanding?’
‘I…I didn’t believe you were real.’
‘Ho-ho, begod!’ Her head went back now and she let out a high rollicking laugh. ‘I’m real, all right. Just look at me. What made you think I wasn’t real?’
‘Well, she…she imagines things. A dog called Gip and a horse called Ironsides.’
‘Well, now, every child imagines an animal they haven’t got, it’s only natural. As for Ironsides, he’s as real as me; he’s at the Blind School for the bairns to ride on.’
Joseph now stared at her for a moment before he said, ‘How was it that the social woman knew nothing about you?’
‘The social woman does know something about me, the real one, Miss Talbot. I’ve known her for years, but the Braithwaite one, I’ve seen nothin’ of her or her of me. Yet that’s understandable for they shifted me out of me flat and placed me in what they call…more suitable accommodation. But they can have it. It’s people that matter to me; not an indoor netty or a bath. Broke me neck, I nearly have twice, steppin’ in and out of the thing. The bottom’s like a skating rink. Put rubber on it, they said, the piece from off the draining board. Put rubber on it yourself, I said; it’s not seein’ neither hilt nor hair of me again. I’ve washed in me tin dish for sixty years and it’ll see me out. Anyway, enough of this blather, where is she? I’m just dying to see her. An’ wait till she hears me voice, she’ll leap from that door, I’m tellin’ you, right into me arms. Aw begod! I missed her. I never thought I’d miss anybody so much in me life; but aw, I missed her.’
‘She’s out.’
‘Out? Where?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ He was on his feet now, and his voice had regained its natural tone. ‘She’s got pally with a lad along the road. He’s coming up fifteen, a decent enough lad, sensible.’ He nodded at her. ‘Well, they’ve both gone off somewhere. His father was here only a few minutes afore you, looking for him, and now he’s searching for them both.’
‘Aw, if she’s with him he’ll come to no harm. She knows her way about; she sees more in her darkness than we do in our daylight. She’s sp
ecial, that child. Do you know that? She’s special. Don’t you think so?’
He stared down at her for a moment now before growling, ‘She’s a prattler, I’ll say that much for her, she’s a prattler.’
‘Well’—she again looked round the room—‘I should have thought you would have enjoyed that, stuck as you are out here in the wilderness.’ She now looked towards the fire, adding, ‘I’m as dry as a kipper that’s been oversmoked, is there any tea in that pot?’
The look he cast down on her was almost a glare before he marched to the fireplace and lifted the stewing teapot from the hob. Then going into the scullery, he returned with another tin mug and when he placed it on the table Mrs Golightly picked it up and looked at it. She looked inside, she turned it upside down and looked at the bottom, and then she said one word, ‘Tin.’
‘Yes, tin.’
‘Haven’t you a decent cup and saucer in the house?’
His lips pressed tightly together for a moment before, thrusting his arm out towards an old Dutch cupboard that stood in the corner of the room, he almost barked at her, ‘That’s full of cups and saucers, good china! but I’m not having them used and broken.’
Mrs Golightly raised her eyebrows while at the same time pulling down her upper lip and, looking at him with a sort of innocent expression, she said quietly, ‘Well, if you don’t want them ever to be broken you’d better leave word for them to be buried with you.’
‘Woman, I want none of your skit! I didn’t ask you here and I’ll thank you to be gone.’
Neither his manner nor his tone seemed to have any effect on Mrs Golightly for, opening the three top buttons of her coat, she wafted a lapel under her chin as if to give herself air, then said quietly, ‘I came to see the child and I won’t go till I’ve done just that; and then I hope to see her the morrow and the next day an’ all.’
‘Tomorrow and the next day? Where are you staying?’
‘I’m stayin’ with me friend in her cottage, Mrs Campbell if you would like to know.’
‘You a friend of Mrs Campbell?’
For the first time Mrs Golightly’s manner took on the offensive and she cried at him, ‘Yes, I’m a friend of Mrs Campbell, and she’s pleased to call me so. You should never judge the parcel by its wrapper, I’ve got me friends in many different walks of life; an’ if you’re judging people on looks I’d advise you never to go in front of a mirror.’
They were glaring at each other, and Joseph’s eyes were the first to drop away.
Going to the delph rack, he took up a jug of milk and brought it to the table, and after banging it down in front of her he went abruptly to the door and out into the yard. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder towards the door as she muttered to herself, ‘Like father like son. Now I can see what made Davy like he was. There’s something to be said for him after all, God rest his soul.’
Chapter Seven
It was safe to say that the yard had never seen so much activity since the day Joseph Dodd had brought his bride back to this house in which he had been born. The yard had been packed with people that day, and now here it was again packed with people.
Besides Mr Dodd and Harry Thompson, there were Farmer Pollock and one of his men. There was Dave Seaton the blacksmith, Bill MacKay the hated stationmaster, Mr Samson the policeman, besides Billy Tyson who was Lord Committy’s odd job man. There were the two Picton boys and their father, and numerous villagers of all ages.
‘What we’ve got to do is to divide up.’ It was Harry speaking. ‘If you Dave, and you Bill, and Mr Picton and the lads, will take the moor, that will be best, I think, because you’re well acquainted with that area.’
‘We’ve been all over there, Mr Thompson.’
It was young Pat Picton speaking, and Harry replied, ‘I know, I know; but there’s gullies and gorse clumps and such, and…and it’ll soon be dark.’
‘Right, we’ll be away.’ It was the blacksmith who now took charge of his small group, saying, ‘Come on! Come on along of me.’
‘And you Billy.’ Harry was speaking to Lord Committy’s man when he happened to turn and look towards the gate where Mrs Campbell was coming through almost at a run. He waited for her to approach him before going on, and it was to her he spoke, saying, ‘It’s all right now; it’s all right.’
‘I’ve just heard…’
‘Go on indoors.’ He pointed towards the house, then jerked his head to where Joseph Dodd was standing and asked, ‘Can she?’ and after just the slightest hesitation Joseph made a small motion with his head and Harry repeated, ‘Go on, I’ll be in in a minute.’
When Mrs Campbell entered the house she was greeted immediately by Mrs Golightly who said, ‘There you are. Now don’t frash yourself. Sit down and you’ll hear all about it. Do you want a cup of tea?’
Mrs Campbell sat down and she stared open-mouthed at Mrs Golightly, who seemed to have taken charge of the house, for there she was in her blue serge skirt and her striped blouse dressed as she would have been if she had been in her own kitchen, and she was pushing the kettle into the heart of the fire as if she was in the habit of doing it daily.
‘They say they’re lost.’
‘Yes, that’s what they say, lass. But how a fourteen-year-old lad and a sensible chit like she is get lost in a place like this, where you can see for miles and the houses are few and far between, God only knows. It smells fishy to me.’
‘Have…have they been to the beach?’
‘Oh, they’ve searched the beach, lass, they’ve searched the beach.’
‘If anything were to happen to her now I’d…I’d…’
‘Now stop it! Stop it. Don’t start bubblin’.’
‘I…I can’t help it. Things were difficult enough before, but now…’
As she put her handkerchief to her eyes the door opened and Joseph Dodd entered and, looking at her, asked abruptly, ‘What’s the matter?’ But it was Mrs Golightly who answered, saying, ‘She’s crying over the child, that’s what’s the matter.’
‘Crying over the child!’ Joseph walked slowly until he stood in front of Mrs Campbell, and then he said abruptly, ‘There’ll be time enough to cry when the worst is known. Anyway, you hardly know her.’
Mrs Campbell now rose abruptly to her feet. Her head was up, her chin thrust out, yet her lips trembled as she said, ‘I’ve known her longer than you, much, much longer.’
They glared at each other for a moment before Joseph said, ‘And what are you inferrin’ by that?’
There was a longer pause now before Mrs Campbell replied steadily, ‘I’m inferring that I’m her mother.’
‘Now, now, now!’ It was Mrs Golightly who came hurrying round from the far side of the table and she dared to take hold of Joseph’s arm and cry at him, ‘Steady on with both your hand and your tongue else you’ll be sorry for it. What she said is true an’ you can’t get over it, she’s the child’s mother.’
‘She’s…she’s no mother!’ The words were brought out from between Joseph’s teeth. ‘No woman who could leave her bairn, and it a small infant, to God and good neighbours can call herself a mother.’
‘You don’t know the facts of it.’
‘I know what I know. You can’t get over the fact that she went off and left the child because she thought Bella was going blind.’
‘I didn’t! I didn’t!’ The emphatic denial was spat at him, and now Mrs Campbell, supporting herself against the edge of the table, leant towards him, saying, ‘You know nothing about it. I was sixteen when I married your son, I was a young, silly girl, full of thoughts of reforming a drunkard. But…but the drinking wasn’t the worst, anyway, I could have put up with his drinking, but he was a cruel man, thoughtless, callous and cruel. For almost a year I had to take the child every week to the hospital, walk there through rain or shine, because what money he had he spent on drink, and…and I became ill, mentally and physically ill. All I remember of that time was that I realised I couldn’t stand any more, and
I walked out. I remember walking and walking. They told me I must have walked for two days and a night, but that was many weeks after I came to my senses, or some part of them, because I went into a deep breakdown and they put me in an asylum. Yes, an asylum, and did he once come to see me? No! Never once. When I was eventually discharged I went back to him, and what did I find? I’ll tell you what I found, I found a woman there, a low, common slut, and because I ordered her out of the house he gave me this.’ She pointed to her lower lip where a white weal ran from the corner to almost the end of her chin. ‘And that isn’t the only legacy of where his fists hit me. He might have finished me off completely if Mrs Golightly there hadn’t intervened. Your son, Mr Dodd, was a maniac when in drink. Do you know he went to prison for three months for what he did to me? And what would have happened to the child God only knows if it hadn’t been for Mrs Golightly. And she can verify every word I am saying.’
‘Yes, I can that; and I could add more to it if you want to hear.’
Joseph turned his head slowly and glared at Mrs Golightly. Then as slowly, his gaze came to rest once more on the young woman who called herself Mrs Campbell. And now she was talking again, rapidly. ‘From what I gathered, prison must have had a sobering effect on him,’ she said, ‘for he cut down on his drinking and looked after the child to the best of his ability. I must say that for him. I understand that when they wanted to take her into care he fought to keep her. But that’s the only thing in his favour for, after beating me up, I had another breakdown and he would have left me to rot in the asylum if it hadn’t been for my aunt. She was a woman whom I hadn’t seen much of when I was a child. My mother died the first year I was married and when my aunt came to her funeral and saw the type of man that I’d taken for a husband she withdrew what interest she might have had in me; that was until she heard of my predicament. She then came to the hospital and took on the responsibility of me and my recovery. She was a wonderful woman.’
Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly Page 11
