The Long Corridor

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘You’ll have what this house brings and all your other odds and ends. Oh, I’ve got it all worked out. It’ll be enough to keep Lorna and me going for a while.’

  ‘Lorna?’ It was a question.

  ‘Yes, Lorna. You’d forgotten about her, hadn’t you? Lorna will be going with me, for you’ve no claim on her, have you. You won’t, like an ordinary father, be able to claim her for part of the time.’

  ‘Shut up!’ He bent nearer to her, and she, thrusting her face towards him, cried, ‘No, I’m not going to shut up, I’m going to bring it into the open, air it at last. SAY IT, YELL IT, SCREAM IT…Lorna isn’t yours…That’s what’s tormented your load of flesh, isn’t it? It’s been like sandpaper under your vest for years, never letting you rest…She isn’t yours. You were a bit puzzled by the look of her from when she was born, weren’t you? And, of course, she was a premature baby, she had to be. And then the day when Arthur Dressell came looking for me and you saw him holding her, you knew then, didn’t you? Arthur’s mother’s maiden name was Haiyakawa. Very Japanese, don’t you think? Anyway, he gave me a baby, and that was something you couldn’t do; for all your brawn you’re as ineffectual as a—’

  As his hands gripped her throat Jenny reached him. Silently now she pulled and tore at him, and when at last she got his hands free they both staggered back, and she fell lopsidedly into the armchair. Remaining where she had fallen, she watched him with his hands held out before him, as if they had been burnt in some way, walking across the room.

  When she saw the door close she looked at Bett. She was lying with her hands on her neck gasping at the air. Slowly Jenny got up and went to her. Her body was trembling, so she could hardly stand. As if she herself had almost been choked she gasped, ‘Why…why did you have to—?’

  ‘Don’t…you…start. You…’ Bett suddenly closed her eyes and put her hand across her stomach. Leaning forward she said feebly, ‘I’m going to be sick.’

  Without a word Jenny hastily helped her from the couch and out of the room and up the stairs into the bathroom, and there she held her head while she vomited.

  A few minutes later, when they were in the bedroom, Jenny said, ‘Come on, get your things off and get into bed, and I’ll get you a drink.’

  ‘Leave me alone.’ Bett pushed her to one side. ‘I told you you weren’t wanted, didn’t I?’

  For answer Jenny said, ‘You’ll feel better lying down.’

  Bett slapped her hands away. ‘I can take my own clothes off, just leave me alone. For God’s sake! I’m all right. Don’t you worry about me.’ She wagged her head airily now.

  Jenny looked down on her, and her voice held a perplexed note as she said, ‘I wonder why I always have, and still do, because you’re not worth it.’ On this she turned quickly away and went out of the room.

  When she went into the kitchen Maggie was sitting at the table, her head resting on her hand, and she looked slowly up, and after a moment said, ‘I never thought I’d see this day. He’s broken, broken entirely.’

  Jenny didn’t know how much Maggie had heard, but very likely she knew it all. Maggie, like many a privileged servant, gave herself the licence to hover outside doors.

  ‘I’m worried. I’m worried to the soul of me. An’ I would leave this minute if I thought it would do any good, but who will he have with me gone? And then there’s yourself off the morrow. Oh, I wish you weren’t goin’.’ She moved her head in wide sweeps. ‘I wish to God you weren’t goin’. I’ve a feeling on me that always spells trouble. I’m worried, Miss Jenny, I’m worried.’

  ‘Where is he, Maggie?’

  ‘In his surgery. He wouldn’t let me near him. He’s not fit to work the night.’

  ‘Would you mind making me a pot of tea, Maggie?’

  Maggie didn’t ask who the tea was for; she simply answered flatly, ‘I’ll do that.’

  As Jenny went into the waiting room she saw Elsie behind the partition at the far side of the room, where the patients’ filing cabinets were kept. Already there were four people standing in a queue waiting for the numbered round discs that would ensure them their correct turn.

  When she knocked on the surgery door and received no answer she opened it slowly, to see Paul sitting behind the desk. His hands were resting on the arms of the chair, the fingers hanging limply over the edge. She had always thought that he carried his age well, not looking anything near his forty-three years, but at this moment he looked fifty and over. She came slowly forward and sat in the patient’s chair. Except for her hat, which had been knocked off when Paul accidentally struck her in the kitchen, she was still in her outdoor clothes. Her handbag was again in her hand, and inside of it was the letter, but how, she asked herself, could she give it to him after what had happened. Yet perhaps this was the best time; let it all come together. One shock might cancel out the other, at least in part. She said softly, ‘Can’t you get out of surgery tonight? Maggie could tell them you’ve been called away. Or why not phone Doctor Price?’

  He stared at her for a full minute, and then asked, ‘Did you know about Lorna, Jenny?’

  She dropped her gaze from his.

  ‘All the time?’

  Her head moved lower still.

  ‘You made a monkey out of me, too?’

  ‘No, Paul. No.’ Her head was up. ‘I couldn’t do anything, it was too late. I didn’t know before you were married, but afterwards I remembered she had been friendly with Arthur Dressell when he was a student, and when he went back to France, where his people were, she was in a state. Then almost immediately…there was you and…and she…’

  ‘And she chased me. Say it, Jinny. Huh! How that girl chased me…Did she ever mention it to you that she knew I was on to her when Lorna came early?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I love Lorna, Jinny. Do you think that strange?’

  ‘No, Paul, no.’

  ‘It’s funny but I couldn’t bear the sight of her after I saw Dressell. Then one day, she was about two at the time, she cried when I pushed her away, and after that, well…’ He brought his limp fingers into the palms of his hands but seemed to have no strength to clench them. ‘What will happen when she tells her, Jinny?’

  ‘She’ll still love you. She’ll always love you.’ She did not say she hates her mother. ‘And you’ll be able to see her. She can’t stop you from seeing her, no matter what she says.’

  He rose heavily from the seat, and, standing with his hand on the corner of the desk, he said, ‘First thing tomorrow I’ll see Parkins and get the proceedings started.’

  ‘Paul!’ She glanced up at him. ‘Bett knows.’

  ‘Knows?’ He screwed up his tired face at her. ‘Knows what?’

  Jenny could not continue to look at him as she said under her breath, ‘About Ivy.’

  From the level of her lowered gaze she saw him seat himself again. His hand on the desk, his body bent towards her, he whispered, ‘She knows? She can’t; she would have said; she would have hit me with everything she’s got.’

  ‘She’s already done that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t really know, but she’s done something, and the result, when it comes about, will mean your ruin. Your practice and everything, but I don’t know what it is.’

  He drooped his head forward, his eyes moving over the desk, darting from one thing to another, as if trying to read an explanation somewhere. And then his head jerked upwards again and he said, ‘How did you come to know, Jinny?’

  ‘She told me this afternoon.’

  He shook his head violently now as a swimmer does when breaking the surface of the water. He couldn’t make it out, her knowing, and not saying a word about it. It wasn’t her type of reaction. He had imagined that should she ever find out she would pounce on him with it.

  ‘How long has she known?’

  ‘I don’t know, Paul, but she’s followed you a number of times.’

  ‘God almighty!’ He strained his lip through his
teeth. ‘Ivy…’

  ‘Paul,’ Jenny leant towards him. ‘I tried to find you this afternoon. I went all round the town, and…and when I couldn’t get you I—I went out to Ivy’s.’

  ‘Jinny!’

  ‘I—I told Ivy. I had to, because at the sight of me she guessed something was wrong. She thought something had happened to you. She—she gave me a letter for you, Paul.’ She opened her bag and slowly handed him the letter. And slowly he took it from her hand, and more slowly still he picked up a paper knife and slit it open. After taking the folded sheet from the envelope he held it for a moment and looked again at Jenny before unfolding it.

  The change was so sudden that it startled her, making her body jerk and causing the chair to scrape backwards on the polished tiles. He was standing before her, his body stiff, seeming broader and taller than he already was. There was anger in his face, but of a different kind from that which had been brought there by Bett, and through gritted teeth he spoke to her as he had never done since the first day they met. ‘You shouldn’t have done this, Jinny. You should have minded your own business. This is my business, and my business alone. You know what you have done?’ He bent nearer. ‘Do you? You’ve spoilt a good woman’s life and Ivy’s a good woman.’ He threw the letter on the desk. ‘You’ve made her sacrifice herself when there wasn’t a damn bit of need. What’s the practice and any other damn thing compared to peace and happiness? And Ivy gave me peace, and I made her happy…Oh, Jinny.’ He ran his hand over the top of his head and round to the back of his neck, and he held it there, pressing his head forward as he still stared at her.

  She could say nothing; she felt as if he had hit her, blow after blow. And not the least painful was the knowledge that if it came to the push and he had to decide between his practice and Ivy, he would pick Ivy. He would do in this matter what he had thought right, right to Ivy. A good woman. You could go on all your life doing good and you got no thanks, but you could become a man’s mistress and through that you claimed the title of a good woman. There was a bitterness in her that was new.

  As she pushed the chair further away from him so that she could rise he grabbed at her limp hands. ‘Jinny, Jinny. I know you did it for the best…you did it for me, but oh! Oh, how I wish you hadn’t! Believe me, I’m not thinking of myself so much in this, but of her. I’ll miss her, God knows, but I’m not so besotted that I don’t realise that I’ll get over it in time; but for her, it’s her whole life…You see she’s—she’s going to marry Wheatley. He’s a farmer. I’ve closed my eyes to it for a long time but I knew he was after her, and not as she always said, because she’s got a bit of land.’ He turned his head towards the desk where the letter was lying, then asked, ‘Do you think there’s any chance of stopping her, or is it already too late?’

  Jenny pulled her hands from his and her voice cracked as she said, ‘Don’t ask me. Don’t ask me any more.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Jinny. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.’

  As she moved towards the door he said softly, ‘Don’t go like that. I’m at my wit’s end. Don’t you take the pip at me, Jinny…please.’

  She looked at him over her shoulder. ‘I’m not taking the pip at you. Anyway, I’ll be off tomorrow and…’

  ‘Aw, yes.’ He stepped hastily towards her. ‘I’d forgotten. Your holiday. Oh, Jinny.’ He only just prevented himself from adding, ‘Don’t go.’ He needed her at this time, needed her balancing influence. ‘I hope you have a good time; you deserve it.’ Again he took her hand, but this time she didn’t allow him to hold it. Instead, withdrawing it quickly, she said, ‘We rarely get what we deserve. I’ll be seeing you, Paul.’

  She went out into the waiting room that was now half-filled with people and made her way to the kitchen. Maggie was at the stove and she jerked her head towards a tray on the table which held a teapot covered with a cosy, milk jug, and a cup and saucer. ‘It’s ready.’

  ‘Thanks, Maggie.’

  Jenny picked up the tray and went upstairs. Bett was half sitting up, leaning against the bedhead. She had her hand to her throat, and Jenny, after putting the tray on the table, asked quietly, and somewhat stiffly, ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Yes, it hurts.’ Bett went on stroking her neck. ‘And inside too. I’ve had a throat for days, and nearly being throttled to death hasn’t helped in any way.’

  Jenny, her own nerves frayed and still harbouring a feeling of bitterness, wanted to say, ‘You only got what you asked for,’ but Bett, she saw, was in no condition for home truths; she looked shaken, even ill; and she was trembling so much she could hardly take the cup of tea Jenny offered her.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘Yes, I feel shivery.’

  ‘I’ll switch the blanket on.’

  ‘Jenny.’ Bett put out her hand and gripped Jenny’s wrist as she went to move away from the bed, and her tone softening now, she said somewhat grudgingly, ‘I’m sorry.’ Then she asked, ‘Are you going tomorrow?’

  ‘Well yes, I told you all my arrangements are made.’

  Bett closed her eyes and a shudder passed over her body, communicating itself to Jenny through their joined hands. When the cup in her other hand began to rattle on the saucer, Jenny took it from her and put it on the table.

  Bett was now gripping the front of her nightdress, and to Jenny’s astonishment she began to whisper, ‘Don’t go, Jenny. Don’t leave me, I need you.’

  Never, in her long acquaintance with Bett, had she heard her speak as she was doing now, nor had she seen her look like this. She had seen many facets of her cousin’s character but never had she seen her looking really frightened and her whole body shaking as if with fear. She said gently, ‘It’ll be all right. You can make it all right with him if you go the proper way about it. Everything could be…’

  ‘Oh, him! It isn’t him…It isn’t that.’ Her voice had again assumed the tone she always used when speaking of Paul. ‘It’s—’ She stared up into Jenny’s face. Then her head drooping slowly, she screwed her eyes up until they were lost in their sockets.

  ‘Oh, my God! Bett. Bett, look at me. You’re…you’re not pregnant?’

  Bett opened her eyes, but with her head still hanging she said slowly, ‘No, I’m not pregnant. It’s funny’—her face moved into a twisted smile—‘people always think that’s the worst that can happen to a woman…for her to be pregnant.’ She turned her face away, and then her body, and fell heavily on to her side.

  ‘Well, tell me what it is.’ Jenny leant over her.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Forget it.’ She had stopped trembling and her voice was controlled now. ‘And forget that I asked you. You go tomorrow. It’s this cold; it keeps hanging about, it’s making me lose my grip. Go on, leave me alone; I’ll likely go to sleep.’

  Jenny stood looking down on the small, huddled body. She had never seen Bett like this. ‘Will I send Lorna up to sit with you for a while?’

  ‘No, no.’ The answer came quickly, jerking her body into a different position. ‘I don’t want anyone; I just want to be left alone.’

  ‘Drink your tea while it’s hot then.’

  ‘I will in a moment…Go on.’

  Jenny went slowly from the room; then stood on the landing. There was something wrong with her. What was she frightened of if she wasn’t pregnant? It certainly wasn’t what she had done to Paul or what she was going to do to him; there was not a vestige of remorse in her on that score. Her mind lifted to James Knowles. But if she wasn’t pregnant what had she to fear from him or anyone else? But one thing was certain: she was afraid of something. If she knew her cousin, she was very much afraid of something.

  She found herself walking towards what had been her room and passing it and knocking on Lorna’s door. Lorna was in the habit of shutting herself away when her parents battled in the open. She had never been able to stand them rowing.

  There was no response to Jenny’s knock, and she pushed the door open to find the room empty. She stood wi
th her hand on the doorknob gazing about her. Then turning, she ran down the stairs and in and out of the rooms on the ground floor. She was still running when she entered the kitchen again.

  Maggie hadn’t seen Lorna. Not since she came from school, she said. She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘What is it?’

  ‘She’s not in the house. Has she been in?’

  ‘Aye. Yes, I’ve told you. She came in at quarter past four as usual an’ had a cup of tea an’ a cake. She took it out with her; she often takes it up to her room an gets on with her homework right away. What about the playroom? Have you looked there? She’s got a lot of books stacked up there. Her…her mother won’t have them in the bedroom.’

  ‘I’ve been in the playroom. Perhaps Elsie’s seen her. She may even be with her.’

  She forced herself to a walk as she entered the waiting room. It was full now, with some people standing. She passed through them and into Elsie’s office. ‘Have you seen Lorna, Elsie?’

  ‘Yes, she went out just a moment or so after I came in. Just before you went in with the doctor. Why, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing. Did you speak to her?’

  ‘No. I didn’t get the chance; she was running, kind of helter-skelter.’

  Kind of helter-skelter. Yes, she would have run helter-skelter if she had heard the conversation in the drawing room. She was likely still running now. She hurried from Elsie and into the kitchen again. Maggie seemed to be waiting for her.

  ‘Where were you, Maggie, when all that was going on in the drawing room?’

  Maggie jerked her chin as if trying to remember, and she said, as if to herself, ‘Now where was I?’

  ‘Maggie, were you in the hall when they were going at it?’

  Maggie now looked her straight in the face. ‘I was.’

  ‘Did you hear all that was said?’