Perhaps he should at that. Perhaps he should see a doctor. Aye, he should go to a doctor. He started to laugh quietly.
‘Doctor, I’m going round the bend.’
‘Are you, Mr Higgins.’
‘Yes, Doctor. Completely round the bend.’
‘What’s brought this on, do you think, Mr Higgins?’
‘Me nature, Doctor, me nature; it’s the way I’m made. Oh, I don’t need a psychiatrist, I know all about meself.’
‘That’s good, Mr Higgins. That’s a very good start. Tell me some more, Mr Higgins.’
‘Well, Doctor, I was taken for a ride. When I was young I was taken for a ride by a clever little puss. Now it wasn’t exactly all her fault, oh no. I’m fair…Fair’s fair. Shades of Ramsay. Well, as I said, it’s me nature. Doctor, I’m a big fellow, you see, and I’m the protective type—Sir Galahad on a white horse, you know the type. So protective and so galahadish that I tried to keep meself as pure as me white steed. Can you believe that? A bloke like me trying to keep himself pure. It’s a fact, Doctor, it’s a fact.’
‘Are you Irish, Mr Higgins?’
‘Not a bit of it. Begod, what made you think I’m Irish, Doctor? I’m talkin’ like this because Maggie Swan talks like this. Maggie’s known me since I was knee high to a dobble of spit—that’s one of her sayings—and I always talk to meself at night like Maggie does; it’s a comfortin’ way, there’s something warm about it. It was Maggie really who kept me pure. D’you know that, Maggie and hard work. I was always kept busy one way and another. You know, Doctor, there’s something in this keeping everybody busy in boarding schools, filling up your time with games, prep, and eating; they make you so damned tired you haven’t even any Sir Galahad dreams…“I pray to our Lady every night of me life for you,” Maggie would say, and you know, Doctor, she did. She’s the only one in me life who’s ever prayed for me because me mother wasn’t a praying woman. A fine woman, a broad-minded, grand woman, but no praying woman. So Maggie prayed for me…Here a minute. Here a minute, Doctor. Now I’ll tell you something, an’ it’s the God’s truth. It’s just this. I never went with a woman until I was nineteen. It was at medical school; an’ you mightn’t believe it, but it’s God’s honest truth, Doctor. I wasn’t taken with it, it made me feel a bit cheap like. Honest to God. That’s a laugh, isn’t it? You must remember, though, I was Sir Galahad, an’ begod the first person I thought of—now would you believe it, Doctor—the very first person I thought of when I woke up the next morning was Maggie Swan, for her white steed had turned to grey, and it’s rider was black, as black as the coals of hell, and she knew all about the coals of hell…But I was trying to tell you, Doctor, there I was going along fine. Like yourself I came through on top, an’ walked the wards. Oh, I was a grand figure of a man, everybody said so. It was while walking the wards that I first saw Jinny. She was a young probationer and me eyes were drawn to her because she was the plainest creature I’d ever seen in me life, and she had the biggest neb on her, you could have poked a drain with it, and the thought crossed me mind that God had done a dirty trick dishing out a dial like that to a girl. A man might have got by with it, but not a girl. And then one night, it happened like this. I was on duty and I got talkin’ to her and found she was the nicest creature that Himself had ever made. It came over in her voice, and it shone out of those big eyes of hers, whose beauty was lost in the contortion of her face. And, begod, do you know what I found out besides? I found out that she was from this very town. So wasn’t it natural like that later when I started up I should bump into her? And wasn’t it natural like that she would introduce me to her cousin? And that’s how it began. That’s how it all began. And as you know, Doctor, her cousin was just a wee, wee thing, an’ I was a big hulking fellow with traces of Sir Galahad still clinging to me cloak, and she got hold of those traces, Doctor, the wily little bitch got hold of those traces and she climbed up them, and into me life. You know yourself, Doctor, I never liked little women, and Maggie never liked little women, and she said to me, “Think, boy, think. Don’t be rushed, don’t let yourself be rushed.” But I wanted to be rushed, Doctor, and little Bett wanted to be rushed. By God, aye she did that, an’ we galloped like hell towards the church.’
‘And what happened then, Mr Higgins?’
‘Aw, what happened then? Well, that’s my concern, Doctor. I’m a big fellow, I’ve got a big head inside and out, an’ I’ve got an opinion of meself, at least I had, and nobody’s going to make a monkey out of me and sit on their backside and laugh.’
‘Well, shall we talk about it, Mr Higgins, bring it into the open…Put it into words? Shall we, Mr Higgins? Shall we? Shall we follow the advice you gave Mrs Ratcliffe to ease her nerves? Confiding in someone is a great easer of nerves. You spout that at least once a day, don’t you? So what about a small dose of your own medicine?’
‘You mind your own bloody business. Do you hear, Doctor? You mind your own bloody business.’
‘It would be better for you, Mr Higgins.’
‘I know what’s good for me, I don’t need to be told. Go on now, get yourself away, go on along to her and ask her to talk about it. Aye, that’s where you should be, along of her, she’s the one that should do the talking. Go on, have a try…’He swung out his arm and the bottle went flying off the table, but he didn’t hear it.
‘Doctor, Doctor, do you hear me now? Wake up. Come on, wake up.’
‘Aw. Aw. Oh, it’s you, Maggie. God!’ He turned on his side and put his hand to his head. ‘What time is it?’
‘Just turned half-past seven, I’ve only just got in. Here, drink this cup of tea. You’ve got to get up, there’s a call for you.’
‘Aw, God.’
‘You been at the bottle I see?’
‘Yes, I suppose you could call it that.’
‘Aye, well, it’s your own lookout.’ She thrust the pillow up behind his head. ‘An’ nobody suffers for it but yourself. But it’ll do you no good in the long run, you know that. Well now, shall I get you a couple of tablets?’
‘Yes, do that, Maggie.’
When she came from the bathroom with a glass of water and the two tablets in her hand he said to her, ‘Who’s the call?’
‘It’s for a Mrs Ogilby. She’s on her time. The husband came to the door just a minute afore I let myself in.’
‘Ogilby.’ He nodded. ‘Well, the district nurse will be there.’
‘He seems very anxious for yourself.’
‘Huh!’ He rubbed his hand through his hair. Ogilby. Ogilby. Aw yes. Yes. He remembered he had promised to be there and he’d better be, too. They should have made a place for her in hospital. But still, she had wanted to have the baby at home.
He swung his legs out of bed, then sat on the edge for a moment screwing up his eyes against the light of day as Maggie drew the curtains. And when she turned from the window she stood looking at him like a mother at an erring son. She appeared a big woman, because of her breadth, for she was below five foot six in height. She had a round face, the skin lying in folds at each side of her mouth. Her lips were thick and pale and held in fullness at the front by four teeth, top and bottom. Her eyes, too, were round and small and dark, and sunk well back in the sockets. They were keen eyes with a youthfulness that belied the rest of the face, for every pore gave evidence of age. Yet emanating from the whole face and body was a suggestion of strength, a protective strength. Again she said, ‘You shouldn’t do it. It does you no good, serves nothin’, an’ only puts years on you—you look fifty if a day. Will I run your bath?’
‘No, there’s not time, I’ll have to get going. Look.’ He squinted up at her. ‘Make me a large, strong coffee, black.’
‘Aye, I’ll do that.’ As she went to pass him she put her hand out and patted his shoulder, and he remembered he had been dreaming about her, or something connected with her. It was all so hazy.
Five minutes later he was downstairs in the kitchen drinking her coffee. She had brought his bag fr
om the surgery, and his coat and hat from the hall, and she stood with the coat in her hand ready for him to get into it.
‘How long are you likely to be?’
‘God knows. If it’s going to be a long job I’ll slip back and see Elsie. If not I should be here in time for surgery. Oh, by the way.’ For the first time since he had got up, his features moved out of their grimness as he explained. ‘I nearly forgot to tell you, Jinny’s here.’
‘Oh, begod, is she now? When did she come?’
‘Last night, after you left.’
‘Aw, that’s nice. Well, that’ll lighten our day.’ She nodded at him. ‘She’s always good to have in the house is Miss Jenny.’
‘I’m afraid her stay is going to be short this time. And that reminds me an’ all; I’m taking her to Newcastle to catch the twelve o’clock.’
‘Aw begod, that’s hail and farewell all right. What’s sending her off at that speed?’
‘Look’—he bent towards her—‘she’ll tell you all about it. You take her a cup of tea up. Tell her that I haven’t told you anything, that I haven’t had time, and she’ll give you all her news and something that’ll surprise you.’
‘I’m past surprises, as you know yourself.’ She followed him to the door. ‘But that won’t stop me from goin’ up this minute. Button that coat up now, it’s an awful mornin’, the drizzle goes through to your marrow. I’ll cook you something on spec. Take care now.’
As he backed the car from the garage he saw her still standing at the kitchen door, not worrying about the effect of the drizzle on herself. Thank God for Maggie. Yes, indeed, thank God for Maggie. And she threatened to get rid of her. Well, just let her, that was all, then the fireworks would fly. Whoever was leaving Romfield House it wouldn’t be Maggie, for Maggie was the only sane, natural being in his life. She had always been there and she always would. At this moment he thought neither of Ivy nor of his daughter…nor yet of Jenny.
PART THREE
JENNY
One
As the train ran into Fellburn Jenny looked at herself for the last time in the mirror of the first-class compartment. Her heart was thumping against her ribs, but its beat, she knew, was nothing compared with what it would be like when she entered the house.
When the train stopped she opened the door and lifted out on to the dimly lit platform three strikingly new pigskin suitcases. She then beckoned a porter in the distance, and when she saw him coming near and recognised him, she said, ‘Hello, Mr Harris.’ At one time she, Bett, and her Aunty May had lived near Mr Harris.
‘Why…why, hello, Jenny. Why, I didn’t know you.’ He scanned her face, evidently puzzled. ‘You’re looking grand.’
‘I’m feeling grand, Mr Harris.’
‘You want a taxi?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Going to the doctor’s?’
‘Yes, Mr Harris.’
‘Hooker’s outside. That’s if he hasn’t been snapped up.’ He nodded at her. ‘He’s got a brand new car, just suit you.’
He moved his head down to her feet, then brought his eyes up to rest for a moment right in the centre of her face. ‘Aye, yes. Well, glad to see you looking so well, Jenny. The wife was only talking about you the other day.’
‘Yes, Mr Harris?’
‘Aye, she was sayin’ she didn’t envy you; nursing wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ Jenny smiled quietly; she knew why Mrs Harris didn’t envy her, and it wasn’t because of nursing.
Mr Harris’ son-in-law was disengaged, and when Mr Harris had ushered her into the back of the car as if she had suddenly become someone of note—and evidently he thought she had from the size of the tip she gave him—she settled back, telling herself to take advantage of the next few minutes and relax, yet knowing at the same time this was an impossibility.
The taxi driver deposited her cases at the front door and she stood for a moment before ringing the bell. Within the radius of the street lamp to the left of her she could see people coming and going in the courtyard, which meant that Paul was still taking surgery.
It was Maggie who opened the door to her. ‘Yes?’ she demanded, peering out from the lighted hall into the darkness.
‘Hello, Maggie.’
‘In the name of God! Come in. Come away in.’
Maggie lifted a case over the step, and after putting it down by the side of the two which Jenny had brought in, she looked up into the face that for many many years she hadn’t really seen, for Maggie, like her master, had never been one to lay any stock on looks. But now she peered into Jenny’s face because it was different, the whole long being was different. She put a hand up to her lined mouth and whispered, ‘Miss Jenny. Why, Miss Jenny. Mother of God! Who would have believed it.’ And now she laid her other hand gently on the lapel of Jenny’s coat, and Jenny, as if clutching at support, gripped it and held it pressed tightly to her as she asked in a whisper. ‘How do I look, Maggie?’
‘Fine, Miss Jenny. Grand. Why saints alive! It’s a transfiguration.’
Jenny wanted to let out a howl of laughter, even at her own expense. Transfiguration! Well, that was one up on transformation. ‘Oh, thanks, Maggie.’ She pressed the hand tighter. ‘Where is Mrs Higgins?’ She always gave Bett her correct title when speaking to Maggie.
‘Oh, she’s in the drawing room with Miss Lorna. And what…? You’ll never guess.’ Maggie grinned up at her. ‘The child’s got a lad, or ’twould be better to say a suitor. A suitor indeed, and a fine-looking one at that. Oh, himself was tickled to death. He caught him hanging round one night a while ago, outside, and he did the right thing; he asked him in. He told him if he wanted to see Miss Lorna then to come openly. An’ begod! the young cock’s never been off the doorstep since.’
Jenny looked slightly disappointed at this news. She blinked as if wondering what to do, then said hastily, ‘Look, Maggie, I’ll go into the morning room.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the door. ‘Would you tell Mrs Higgins I’m here? Do it on the quiet…you know, I’ll leave it to you.’
‘Aye. Aye, I’ll do that. Don’t bother with them cases.’ She wafted Jenny away. ‘I’ll see to them afore I go.’
‘No, no, they’re too heavy for you to hump upstairs; just leave them.’
‘Well, never bother now. Away to the mornin’ room and I’ll get herself to you.’
The morning room was cold and Jenny shivered, and her shivering increased when she heard the drawing room door open, and as the laughter came to her, together with the sound of Bett’s running steps, she knew her cousin was in high spirits, and being girlishly girlish.
When the door was thrust open and Bett cried, ‘Why, Jen-ny!’ the name was split, and the last syllable left her mouth hanging agape. Like Mr Harris, she was staring into the middle of Jenny’s face; then her eyes flicked up and down the length of her only to come to rest again at the telling point.
‘What on earth…’
Jenny knew that she was blushing, that the whole of her body was blushing, in fact sweating now.
‘We-e-ll!’ The word had a tremulous sound. ‘So that’s it. The big secret.’ Bett’s voice was strangely flat. ‘You’ve had your nose done.’
‘Yes, I’ve had it done.’ Jenny swallowed; then swallowed again. ‘That among other things.’ She took off her hat.
‘And your hair off?’
‘And not before time. Nothing’s before time, I should say.’
‘And you’ve had it bleached. You’ve certainly gone the whole hog. Well.’ Bett folded her arms across her chest; it was an attitude she took up when she was going to pass judgement, damning judgement, and she said now, ‘It isn’t you.’
‘No, I know it isn’t.’ There was a touch of sharpness to Jenny’s voice and she was trembling no longer. ‘I’ve been stuck with the lot since the day I was born, and now I’m rid of it; well, as much as I can get rid of.’
‘And this was all his idea?’
‘Yes, it was. But it wasn’t the first time I’d thought of it.’ Jenny turned her face away from Bett’s hard scrutiny. ‘Many a time I’ve thought, if only I had enough money…Well.’ She lifted one shoulder and drew up her bust and brought Bett’s gaze to rest on it now; and after a moment Bett raised her eyelids until they seemed to disappear into the sockets, and to the question they asked Jenny said, ‘Oh, this part was easy.’ She put her hands gently under her breasts. ‘I could have worn falsies years ago but they wouldn’t have gone with the rest of me.’
The Long Corridor Page 7
