‘Name of God!’ Jack Pollock gave a small laugh. ‘Kidnapping! Secret cellars! From the look of you now, it strikes me you’ve been with Pat Picton here at his charcoal burning.’
‘He ain’t, and he’s speaking the truth.’ Pat’s rough voice silenced Mr Pollock. ‘An’ if you want to catch those fellows you’d better stop your yappin’ an’ get a move on. An’ don’t forget to take a ladder with ya.’
‘He’s right, he’s right; they’ll have Mr Bailey on their boat if you don’t look sharp.’ Bella had swung round within the circle of her grandfather’s arms, and now quickly turning towards him again, she cupped his hairy face in her hands, saying, ‘Go and get him, Granda, please. I told him you would; I told him you’d go back and get him.’
Joseph Dodd stared into the black smudged face. Then with a quick movement he pressed her to him before putting her down on the floor; and now with a ‘Come on! Let’s see what this is about,’ he went towards the door. But the two boys were already through it, with Harry Thompson close on their heels.
In the yard Joseph kept pace with Harry while Jack Pollock and Dave Seaton brought up the rear, but hesitantly it would seem, for they still couldn’t take in what they had heard. ‘That couldn’t happen in this village, kidnapping. That’s something you read about in newspapers.’ And Jack Pollock said as much to Pat as the young lad pulled a ladder away from a stacked pile of osiers. ‘True is it? Not havin’ us on?’
‘Don’t be so gormless.’
‘Mind your blasted cheek, you young ’un.’
‘Well, don’t ask for it then…“Havin’ us on?” ya said; I got them out of the coal cellar, didn’t I?’
‘Shut your noise, you two.’ It was Joseph’s voice hissing at them. ‘And put that flashlight out, Seaton.’
‘It’s black dark; I won’t be able to see a stone.’
‘Put your finger in your eye and make a starlight.’ As Jack Pollock’s quip brought a sharp rejoinder from Harry, Joseph’s voice hissed, ‘This is no laughin’ matter.’
‘Why not, the bairns are safe.’
‘Well, you’re not deaf, are you? You heard what the lad said about the man back there.’
‘Aye; aye, I did. An’ I’ll believe I’m lookin’ at a kidnapped man when I see him.’
‘Well, that won’t be long then, Mr Pollock. At least, I hope so,’ said John now. ‘That’s if they haven’t already got him out of the cellar and away to the coast. And another thing, I think it would work better, Dad, if you and Mr Pollock and Mr Seaton went to the front door and knocked and pretended you were enquiring after us, for then if they hadn’t already gone down into the cellar that would divert them a bit and give us time to get Mr Bailey up. Mr Dodd and Pat and me’ll manage that.’
‘Yes, yes, it seems a good idea, John. We’ll do that.’
‘If you are going to do anything but talk you better get a move on, and you’d better hang on to each other and tread quietly as we go through my wood,’ growled Joseph.
‘Through your wood?’
‘Yes, through my wood; an’ as I said, quietly.’
‘Oh, we’ll tread lightly all right. We could teach you a thing or two, Dodd, in that way, couldn’t we, Jack?’ It seemed that Mr Seaton was bent on taking the matter lightly. ‘There’s one or two pheasants haven’t known which cuddy kicked ’em…’
‘Hold your tongue, man.’ The tone of Joseph’s voice had the power to silence them all; and then they were moving cautiously but swiftly along by the guide rope.
They all stopped as someone slipped and dislodged the stones as he was going over the broken wall, and when Mr Pollock’s oath proclaimed who it was they remained silent, listening.
When finally they had crawled through the base of the fir hedge they stood in a line on the grass verge and gazed up the empty drive towards the house. After the darkness of the wood it looked as if the whole place were bathed in dim moonlight.
‘There’s no need for caution now,’ Harry whispered; ‘we’ll walk boldly to the front door, and once it’s open we’ll get inside. You’re pretty good with your fists, aren’t you, Dave?’
‘Try me.’ Dave Seaton seemed to be more in his element now.
‘You all right, John?’ Harry was speaking quietly to his son and John said, ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘Good. Then let’s away.’
The six of them moved noisily onto the gravel drive, purposely walking more heavily than was necessary; but as soon as they were opposite the front door John tugged at Joseph’s sleeve; then jerking the end of the ladder he was holding as a signal to Pat at the other end, they set off at a run round to the far side of the house.
When they came to the coal hatch it was Pat who with one heave lifted up the iron lid; and then both he and John glanced at each other in consternation as they heard the sound of scuffling and voices coming from below them.
‘They’ve got him! They’ve got him!’ John flashed his torch down into the hole, but before he could make any further comment the torch was grabbed from his hand and he was pushed aside by Joseph who, after one swift glance down into the coal house, shouted, ‘Give us the ladder here!’
Within seconds John and Pat had the ladder upright and were pushing it downwards; but before it reached the bottom the futility of this manoeuvre made itself evident to John, and now he cried, ‘It’s right across the hole, we couldn’t get down there.’
‘Begod! You’re right, boy.’ Joseph was now on his feet. ‘Come on.’ Like a young man, he spurted forward to the front of the house again, with John and Pat at his heels, and when they reached the door they found it open, and the sound of further scuffling came to them.
There was a light in the hall that showed a broad staircase branching off from both sides into a gallery. John had only time to take in the fact that, apart from a couple of chairs and an old trunk, there was no furniture in the hall; the next minute he was running behind Joseph into a large room. This, too, was furnished sparsely, but he noticed that it held a couch, some easy chairs and a table, and it was towards the table that he now ran to where Jack Pollock and Dave Seaton were struggling with a man on the floor. It was Jack Pollock who, looking up at Joseph, gasped, ‘Tie his legs, will you, with anything…your tie…your muffler.’
‘Where’s my dad?’
Before Jack Pollock or Dave Seaton, who had tied the man’s hands behind him, could give John a reply their attention and that of Joseph and Pat and of John himself was brought towards the fireplace where a long frame that had once held a portrait and was attached to a wall seemed to be slowly moving towards them. As John was about to run towards it he was brought to a halt by Joseph reaching out and gripping his coat, then tugging him backwards.
Joseph’s position on the floor was almost opposite the picture frame and he had seen what neither John nor Pat nor the two men who were holding Dick Riley had seen, and that was Harry stepping backwards into the room.
When a voice came to them, saying, ‘Put them up further…further!’ Harry came full into view, his hands above his head, and facing him was Mr Aimsford, a revolver held steadily in his hand.
What prompted John to move swiftly towards the fireplace and pull Pat with him as he went, he could never explain, nor that they should stand crouched in the corner between the end of the fireplace and the side of the swivelled picture frame. Perhaps it was the fact that for a moment Mr Aimsford had his back to them; that was before he motioned Joseph, Jack Pollock, and Dave Seaton to join his father at the other end of the opening.
It was when Joseph refused to move that Harry said quietly, ‘Don’t attempt it, Joseph, he means business.’
‘You’re a wise man, Mr Thompson.’ Aimsford’s voice had a sarcastic note to it, and when he added, ‘If you had kept off the drink, I am sure you would have been a successful man,’ John’s head drooped towards his chest for a moment. But the next second it was brought up by the sound of scuffling feet just beyond the panel; and then there came into view the stumbling
form of Sir Geoffrey, again gagged and his hands tied behind his back. That he had put up a fight was evident from the blood running down the side of his face.
‘How do you hope to get away with this?’ It was Joseph’s voice like a growl speaking now, and the answer came quietly, which made it all the more ominous; ‘Leave that to me, Mr Dodd. You and your friends have only slightly impeded our departure. As you will note, physically we are equal, but mentally we, I should say, are a way ahead. In my short sojourn among you I have found you all very stupid; with perhaps one exception, the child, the bright child, your granddaughter, Mr Dodd. It’s a pity your wits aren’t as sharp as hers, for she saw more through her blindness than you all did with your eyes. But now I’m wasting time, come!’
As John and Pat stood breathing into each other’s face, the swivelling movements of their eyes and almost imperceptible movements of their heads indicated to each other what they were about to do.
John mouthed towards Pat the word ‘Tackle’, and demonstrated further by thrusting his hand out in a grabbing motion. After a second Pat nodded at him.
Aimsford had now taken two side steps further into the room and with his left hand he motioned towards the men who were holding Sir Geoffrey and from them to the writhing figure on the floor, saying harshly, ‘Don’t stand there holding him up, put him down and unloosen Dick. And now you…gentlemen, kindly walk this way and down the steps and into the room that our friend’—he indicated Sir Geoffrey—‘and your children have so lately vacated. And don’t imagine that you will make your escape as they did by the coal hatch. There’s an iron bar that goes across there and we won’t forget to put it into place before we leave…Come on now, move!’ Aimsford’s voice changed again. ‘I’m not playing games; I’ve used this before and to effect. It’s in for a penny, in for a pound. And when they find you, which they undoubtedly will with the help of the children, it would be nicer all round if there weren’t a couple of dead bodies among you; so come on, no playing about, move!’
Perhaps it was the gasp that John gave as both he and Pat sprang forward that made Aimsford spin round, but as the two figures hurled themselves on him he was borne backwards, and the next minute John found himself in what appeared to be the midst of a rugby scrum. There were bodies all over him, legs and arms flaying. He didn’t know who was friend or who was foe; there was only one thing certain, he was still clinging on to Aimsford.
When the fist caught him on the side of the jaw he had the sensation of being lifted upwards from the floor and sent ceilingwards; and the strange thing was he couldn’t remember coming down.
Chapter Ten
‘It’s all right, it’s all right, he’s coming round.’
‘Oh…my head…my head.’
‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’
‘Put me down, I want to get on…onto the floor.’
Somebody laughed; then a voice said, ‘That’s your trouble, you’ve been too long on the floor, and had too much weight on you. Come on, come on, drink this.’
John blinked his eyes and looked up into a sea of faces all floating around him. The doctor from the village, his father, Mr Dodd, Mrs Campbell, Pat. He put his hand out and Pat gripped it; and now he muttered, ‘Wha…what…what happened? Oh, my head!’ He went to rise, but someone pressed him back and he looked up at them and said, ‘They…they got away?’
‘Not on your nelly.’ It was Pat’s rough, laughing voice, and now John blinked towards him as he said, ‘No?’
‘Lie still.’ It was the doctor again.
Then Harry was bending over him. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve got them all. They’re on their way now to where they won’t cause any mischief for some time.’
‘Sir…Sir Geoffrey?’
‘Mister’s here.’
At the sound of Bella’s voice he again attempted to sit up, but found the effort too much and could only turn his head in her direction. He saw her sitting by the big chair, and in it, leaning back, his eyes closed, was Sir Geoffrey.
‘Is he all right?’
‘Yes, yes.’ Harry’s tone was soothing. ‘But he’s very tired and weak, and the loss of blood hasn’t helped.’
As he went to close his eyes Bella’s voice came to him again, with a quiver in it now, saying softly, ‘He never asked after me, did he? I was the only one he missed out.’
‘Aw, child; he knew you were safe and sound,’ said Mrs Golightly now. Then her voice rising to a sharp crescendo, she cried, ‘Aw, no, no, hinny; now don’t start that! Aw, no! Now stop it. Stop it! You’re not to cry.’
But the admonition could have been a signal for Bella to let go, for now her high-pitched wail filled the room.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right, dear. Come along now, stop crying.’
But Mrs Campbell’s voice seemed only to aggravate the sound, and Joseph, going quickly towards Bella, tugged her away from her mother’s arms and into his own, and when her head was buried in his shoulder he said, ‘What’s all this? Come on, come on, now. After all you’ve been through, and not a wet eye, to make a show like this! Doesn’t make sense. Come on, come on.’
‘It’s likely a reaction; she’ll be all right. It’s better to let her cry.’
The doctor meant his words to be soothing but Mrs Golightly soon disabused his suggestion as she shouted above the noise of Bella’s weeping, ‘You know nowt about it, at least not yet. I’ve known this to go on for two solid days. Last time she had to be put to sleep. She rarely cries, but when she does she does it properly, let me tell you. She made herself so ill she was in bed for a week once with it.’
‘Well, in that case forewarned is forearmed, we’ll have to see she doesn’t cry for two days, won’t we?’
It was apparent from his voice that the doctor hadn’t taken to Mrs Golightly, and now he added, ‘The best place for her is bed, and I’ll come and see her in a minute.’
Joseph said nothing as he walked through the crowded room and went to mount the stairs and when he saw that the child’s mother and Mrs Golightly were following him, he looked over his shoulder and almost growled at them, ‘I’ll see to her.’
‘With her mother’s help you will.’
Joseph now looked past Mrs Campbell and down onto the broad wrinkled face, and all he said was, ‘Women!’ but it expressed more than a battery of words.
Bella knew that she should stop crying. She tried her best, she even said to herself, ‘Stop it, will you! Stop it. Everything’s all right, so stop it.’ But she couldn’t stop it. She was experiencing sorrow which had its source somewhere deep within her, and as it spurted up through her body and spilled out of her eyes, her nose, and her mouth, it bore on its surface, like boats on a river in spate, things forgotten, things that she had consciously buried, like the dim memory of her da hitting a woman, bashing his fists into her face, then kicking her when she lay on the floor. Then this picture was swamped by the feeling of being lost. Although she was in a room and she could make out the objects as through a mist, she knew she was lost and there was nobody to come and find her because her da had gone out and left her.
Into the scenes flooding up, her grandfather’s voice came, shouting, ‘Don’t fuss, woman! If you’re going to get her things off, get them off. Stop your chatter!’ Then Mrs Golightly’s voice, which made her want to laugh through her tears as she shouted back at her granda, ‘And you shut your whist, man, for if you don’t I’m as likely to take your clothes off an’ take me hand to your backside, ’cos you’re showing no more sense than a bairn.’ But she didn’t laugh.
The picture in her mind now was of a great roaring of traffic and people yelling and a man picking her up and running with her and voices all around shouting, ‘She could have been run over. Fancy letting a blind child out by herself.’ She had struggled and pushed at the hands, then shouted at them, ‘I can go about by meself, I just took the wrong crossin’.’
It was when she felt a sharp prick in her arm that the waves in her mind washed up the
worst picture of all. It was when they told her that her father was dead. She had been lost a long time then because she hadn’t anybody, not even Mrs Golightly, and not even Miss Talbot, but a strange woman from the centre. She had been frightened, very frightened…and then she had met her granda.
‘Gran…da! Gran…da!’
‘Yes; I’m here, hinny.’
She felt him gripping her hands but she still couldn’t stop crying; and if anybody could make her stop crying it was her granda, because he was the only one in the world belonging to her…What was that? There were no other women in the room but Mrs Campbell and Mrs Golightly, and Mrs Golightly had said, ‘Let her mother undress her.’
She was dreaming. She was dreaming. She hadn’t a mother. Never had a mother. But she didn’t mind as long as she had a granda.
Chapter Eleven
She wished they would let her wake up. Why couldn’t they let her wake up properly? She had stopped crying, oh a long, long time ago…Well, it seemed a long time ago. Was it yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that? What day was it?
She asked someone the day and they said it was Tuesday.
Silly, it couldn’t be Tuesday. Somewhere in her mind everything was clear, that is everything that had happened on Friday. At least it was clear in bits, if they wouldn’t keep pushing her off to sleep again. ‘Drink this,’ they said; ‘drink this,’ and off she would go, floating away while voices bobbed up all around her; the doctor’s voice saying, ‘The best thing for her; her mind’s too active by far.’
Her mind too active by far, what did he mean? Was he going to stop her thinking? Could he stop her thinking? She wanted to keep awake to know what was happening. She wanted to keep awake to talk to John. And yes, Pat an’ all. Funny, but she liked Pat. As she had heard someone say, ‘If it hadn’t been for Pat they would have had a poor lookout.’ Who had said that? The mister?…Yes, the sir. He must have been up in her bedroom when they were pushing her off to sleep again. Oh, she wanted to talk, she wanted to hear all the news. And there was something very important she wanted to ask. It was about Mrs Campbell. Mrs Campbell seemed to be always near her, and the word mother had cropped up a number of times. She must have been dreaming that part.
Go Tell it to Mrs Golightly Page 15
