‘Aye…yes. Bring me a dish in. You get it, Dad.’
‘Snow?’ Sean was scurrying towards the door when he turned and cried, ‘Where do I get a dish?’
‘Where do you get a dish! Where d’you think? Out here. Out here.’ Hannah ran into the kitchen and brought back a plastic bowl and, thrusting it into his hand, she said, ‘Look slippy.’
It took Sean only seconds to scoop the bowl full of snow from around the step and then he was at Vincent’s side. ‘Hold it closer, in front here,’ said Vincent. He now took one hand from around Constance’s waist and pressed her shoulder back; then, pulling down the front of her torn dress, which a moment before he had put back into place, he scooped up a large handful of snow and slapped it on to her bare chest, and followed it with another. A third handful he levelled straight into her face. And now she was choking, spluttering, and gasping, but her wailing stopped.
As they all stood looking down at her heaving body, Florence said softly, ‘Get me towels of some sort, Hannah; and see if there are any water bottles in the kitchen; she could catch her death.’
A few minutes later Constance, lying on the couch, a rug about her, looked as if she had died.
‘We’d best get her to bed,’ said Florence. ‘Will you carry her up?’ She glanced at Vincent, and he answered, ‘It’s too cold up there; she’d be better here. You could bring some blankets down, and get those bottles going quickly.’ He glanced at Hannah, and she said, ‘Aye. Aye,’ and went hurrying into the kitchen again, while Florence rushed upstairs.
Standing in front of the couch, Vincent gazed down on Constance, then turned to see his father gathering up the broken china from the floor. Sean glanced sidewards up at him but did not speak and Vincent, turning now to look at the mantelpiece, and at the empty space in the middle, said over his shoulder, ‘What happened to it?’ And Sean mumbled quietly, ‘He chucked it in the fire.’
Slowly, Vincent lowered his head. The sheep and lamb, besides being the best thing he had ever done, was a talisman to him. From the first it had represented one thing, a home. For weeks now he had seen it resting in the place for where he had originally cut it, and now it had gone up in flames. Its going meant the end of something; what, he wasn’t sure.
Nine
Sometime in the early hours of the morning Constance awakened, after being administered a dose of chlorodyne. It was a medicine Florence used to soothe the children and to send them to sleep when they had colds, or toothache, and it had enabled Constance to sleep for over six hours. When she tried to raise her lids they seemed to have weights on them and when she came to run her tongue over her lips she experienced an excruciating pain. She tried to remember what had happened, but all she could hear in her mind was someone crying. It was a loud, bawling, raucous cry, and she wondered why she should be hearing it. Then, her lids lifting, her eyes were attracted by the flickering of the fire and to the humped figure sitting in a deep chair to the side of it. Why was Hannah here? Her eyes moved slowly to the other side of the fireplace to see Vincent sitting there, his head on his chest, and she knew she was dreaming. Then the volume of the crying mounted even higher in her head, and with a feeling of panic she realised she was listening to her own voice. It was like a dream within a dream, and suddenly it came to her why she had cried so much. It wasn’t only because she had shed in one deluge all the pent-up tears of years, but also because of Vin, and she didn’t need to ask herself why she had cried for Vin. The crying again filled her whole being. It was soundless now, but so great was the pain of it, even worse than the pain of the bruising on her face and body, that it blotted out her hazy consciousness.
When she next came to, the room was full of white light that hurt her eyes. A dark shape clouded it for a moment, then Hannah’s thick and comforting brogue said, ‘There you are; you’ve had a nice sleep, me dear. Now what you want is a nice cup of tea, and it’s all ready for you. How’re you feelin’?’
When Hannah stroked back her hair Constance had the feeling that her scalp was bare and raw. As she tried to move she moaned, and Hannah said, ‘There now, there now; don’t distress yourself. I’ll just raise your head gently and you’ll have this cup of tea. An’ then I’ll wash you down with warm water; there’s nothin’ like warm water for soothin’ you.’
‘Ha…Ha…Hannah?’
‘Yes, me dear.’
‘Pe…Peter.’
‘Never you fear about Peter; he’s fast asleep. They didn’t get back until nearly eight o’clock. Vin went and fetched them. He’d had to shank it; he couldn’t get the car out of the yard. The snow’s two feet if it’s an inch this mornin’, an’ the drifts are head-high, and it’s still comin’ down. Aw, we’re in for a right one this time. There now, there now; take another sip. That’s it, that’s it…Aw, that’s good. You’ll feel better after that.’ She placed the empty cup on the mantelpiece; then tucking the blankets gently under Constance’s chin, she said, ‘Are you warm enough now?’
Constance made a movement with her head, then said haltingly, ‘Could I have some aspirin, Hannah?’
‘Surely, surely. Where do you keep them?’
‘Kitchen…cabinet.’
As Hannah moved away Constance muttered, ‘What…time is it?’
‘Oh, around eleven o’clock; the day’s young,’ replied Hannah on her way to the kitchen, where to Moira, who was standing on a chair peering out through the top pane of glass, she said, ‘Any sight of them?’ And Moira whispered, ‘No, Hannah. But I saw me dad go over the hill. At least, I think it was me dad; I couldn’t make him out rightly, although it had let up for a time.’ She turned her face to the window again, then cried softly, ‘Oh, I think this is him comin’ now,’ and Hannah went to the back door and she opened it and waited for Sean; and when he stood kicking the caked snow from his boots, she asked, ‘Any sign of him?’ For answer he just shook his head.
‘God in heaven! God in heaven!’ Hannah gazed up at the snow-laden sky; then looking at Sean’s bent head, she said, ‘Where is he, Vin?’
‘Out lookin’ at yon side. He wouldn’t go at first, although he’s away now.’ Sean raised his head and they stared at each other. Then Hannah put her head close to his and whispered, ‘Have you tackled him yet?’
Sean turned away from her gaze as he replied, ‘No, no. How could I? And anyway, if that so-and-so couldn’t get his car started, he might have tried to walk.’
‘If he ever got as far as his car,’ said Hannah slowly.
‘Don’t say it, woman; don’t even think it.’
‘What in the name of God can we think?’ she whispered. ‘The car’s there an’ no sign of the man, and him being a townie he could never have made his way along that road at night like that. I couldn’t have done it meself; I doubt if Vin could, not in the dark, anyway.’
‘Well, if he’s there we’ll find him.’
‘Oh, I’m not worried about you finding him, but how you’ll find him.’
He turned from her and made to go down the path again, but paused and said, ‘Is the boy still asleep?’
‘Yes,’ she answered.
‘Well, he’d better be told as soon as he wakes. I would give him another hour, then get him up. I’ll try once more down the hill towards the moor, then we’ll have to report it.’ He looked at her hard. ‘You know that, don’t you? We’ll have to get word down to the Charltons, an’ they’ll get a party of searchers goin’.’
‘God in heaven!’ exclaimed Hannah again; then closed the door and, looking to where Moira was standing wide-eyed, she said, ‘It’s all right, child, it’s all right. Everything’s goin’ to be all right. Keep pilin’ wood on that fire, ’cos I want the water nice and hot to wash Mrs Stapleton down, that’s a good girl. Oh, aspirin!’ She suddenly remembered what she had come into the kitchen for and went to the cabinet, and after looking down the shelves she found a packet of Aspro and returned to the room …
The tablets, together with the hot, wet flannel under Hannah’s kindly h
ands helped to soothe, if not to eliminate, the pain in Constance’s side and face. The amount of bruising on her body brought murmurings from Hannah, and she was still murmuring as she went across the room with the bowl, when Peter came hurrying down the stairs, sleep still heavy in his eyes.
‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep. Just an hour, I said.’ His voice was hoarse.
‘Ssh! Now don’t fret, she’s all right. She’s just had a cup of tea and a wash. She’s all right.’
When Peter reached the couch he gripped his own jaw tightly with his hand and screwed up his eyes against the sight of Constance’s face standing out in relief against the snow light. She had been asleep when he got back and her face had been half covered, and the others had said, ‘Don’t disturb her.’ He dropped onto his knees beside the couch and words failed him; he could only bow his head and lay it gently against her shoulder. But when she lifted her hand and touched his hair, he muttered, ‘Oh…oh, if only I hadn’t gone out.’
‘It…it had to come.’
‘What?’ He lifted his eyes to hers and she made a small movement with her hand as if waving explanations away.
She had always known that Jim wanted to strike her, but he also knew that, should he lift his hand to her, it would be the finish: he wasn’t foolish enough to strike the hand that was keeping him and his little mistresses. But when he was faced with the fact that she had finally made the break, he had determined that he was going to give her a taste of the outlet of which he had deprived himself for years. Well, he had done it. It was over. All finished.
The last two words brought back an uneasiness to her mind. She was remembering something. It was connected with the awful crying. She could see herself now crying, shouting, and moaning. What must they have thought of her, the O’Connors? And Vin? It was at the sight of him that she had first screamed. When he had come into the room and looked at her over the couch she had stared back at him, and as she did so she had remembered trying to stop his father from turning Jim out. There had been an idea in her mind connecting Vincent leaving the room and Mr O’Connor telling Jim to go. As she lay on the floor she had been only vaguely aware of what had been happening, except for the fact that Jim was going outside where Vin was; then, at the sight of Vin looking at her over the back of the couch, the idea had been clarified and it had burst something in her head and she had cried out. It was then that she knew she wasn’t crying only because of the wasted years, of her lost youth, of the cravings of her body, but because of Vin’s stupidity, of his misplaced loyalty.
Slowly she said, ‘Peter!’ and when he said, ‘Yes, Mother?’ she whispered, ‘Go down and see if his car’s still there.’
‘What!’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Please.’
‘But…but he couldn’t be.’
‘Peter. Go…go and look.’
He got slowly to his feet; then stood staring down at her before going into the kitchen and taking a coat from the back of the door. Hannah was at the table stirring something in a bowl, and he went to her side and quietly, because Moira was sitting near the fire, said, ‘Has…has anyone been down below? She…she’s asked me to go and see if his car’s there.’
Hannah’s hands became still and she jerked her head towards him. ‘She asked you that?’
‘Yes.’
She puckered up her eyes and looked at him in a puzzled way as she said, ‘Now why should she?’
When he made no answer she turned her attention to the bowl again, adding flatly, ‘You can save yourself a trail; it’s still there. The keys are where he left them. They’ve been out these hours searching for him.’
Peter cast a glance back at Moira, and Hannah said, ‘Oh, don’t trouble what she hears; she knows all about it. She saw it all last night. It’ll be a lesson to her. She’s learned that education and learnin’ can’t prevent a man from being a beast, nor the lack of it make a man into one.’
After a moment he asked, ‘What’ll I say to her?’
‘Nothing yet. Go on down and see the car for yourself, then you can break it to her gently that they’re lookin’ for him.’
‘He…could he have walked to the main road?’
‘If he was Vin he could’ve, or Sean, or, at a stretch, even me.’ She cast a quick glance at him, and for a second a glint of humour showed in her eyes. ‘That’s if it was in the daylight and I was meself.’ Then she ended soberly, ‘But in the dark and him not used to the land, an’ not bein’ able to tell the road from the fells, or where there is a gully, it would be a miracle if he ever reached the main road.’
As he opened the back door she said, ‘If he’s fallen into a drift they won’t come across him until it thaws, unless the dogs should find him.’
‘The dogs?’ He turned to look at her.
‘Aye. Charlton’s, or Fenwick’s, at yon side of the moor. They’re good at that kind of thing. They’ve found folk alive after days, if they managed to make shelter.’
As he made his way slowly down towards the outhouses he thought, unemotionally, I hope they’re not in too big a hurry getting the dogs out.
It was the following day towards noon when the police sergeant arrived at the house. Constance was still sitting on the couch, but dressed now. Her face displayed a distorted blue and yellow mask, out of which her eyes gazed at the policeman as he said, ‘It’s getting on for forty-eight hours now. We have combed the hills for a good distance around, farther than he could ever have travelled. There’s little more we can do until the thaw sets in.’
He stared down at her. Her face, as it was now, gave him no indication of her looks; he could only see that she must be tallish and have a fine figure, if you liked the modern lines, and that her dress was smart and stylish. There was something wrong here and they likely wouldn’t get to the bottom of it until they found the husband. He had certainly said his goodbyes to her, if it was the husband who had done it. And who else, up here? Down in the village they said he was a bit of a lah-de-dah; nothing bashful about him, at least about his own accomplishments.
To some extent Constance knew the trend of the policeman’s thoughts, and she clarified them by saying, ‘My husband and I quarrelled. He…You see, he had returned from London and discovered that I had started divorce proceedings against him.’
‘Oh! Oh! Well, madam, that’s none of our business, you know; but I can say I’m sorry you’ve had to undergo such treatment. Well, now, we’re taking the dogs around Allerybank Moor, though I can’t see him ever getting across the burn; he could have followed it up, of course, until he came to the castle, but only if he was a hillman. Not being one, I doubt if that was possible; and, anyway, it’s in the opposite direction from that which he should have taken. But as you know, ma’am, all roads lead in a circle in a snowstorm and it’s surprising where people find themselves.’
Still looking at him, she said, ‘How long do you think this’ll last?’
‘You mean the freeze? Well, they said on the radio it will be another couple of days, although you never know, we might have another fall after that. Try, though, not to worry, ma’am; we’re doing our very best.’
‘Yes, yes; I’m sure you are. And thank you.’
After the sergeant had left Hannah came into the room and said, ‘Will you be all right if I slip down below for a minute or so?’
‘Oh, of course, Hannah. And…and I feel it’s an imposition you staying up here, because Mrs O’Connor needs you.’
‘Not a bit of it, not a bit of it. And you know, it’s like a holiday. In other circumstances I would be enjoyin’ it, and as it is, I’m likin’ nothin’ better at the moment, but I just want to have a word with Florence. Barney’s in the kitchen tending to the fire; just give him a call if you want anything, he’ll be listening. But I won’t be gone more than fifteen minutes or so.’
‘Oh, please, please, don’t hurry yourself, Hannah; I’m quite all right now.’
‘Quite all right, you say? If you were all right now you’d be a sigh
t to see when you’re not feelin’ yourself. Well, I’m away then.’
In the kitchen, Hannah hastily dragged on her coat and, putting a woollen shawl over her head, she knotted it under her chin, saying quickly to Barney, ‘Now keep that fire goin’; there’s meat in the oven and it’s got to be cooked.’
‘Aye, Hannah, aye.’
She now pulled on a pair of wellingtons that disappeared up under her skirt; then scurrying cautiously, she made her way outside and along the path that the boys had scooped out from the snow, around the brow of the hill, and down the other side. She was still scurrying when she entered the door. Kicking off her wellingtons, she hurried through the outer rooms and into the kitchen in her stockinged feet.
Florence, in the act of placing mugs of cocoa before Sean and Vincent, turned, as they did, towards her, but it was Florence who asked, ‘They’ve found him?’
‘No. No.’ She looked from Sean to Vincent, then back to Florence. What she had to say had been for Florence’s ears only, but now they were all waiting. They knew her too well to imagine she had come down here for a cup of cocoa, or made the journey because she was feeling homesick. She dusted the snow from the bottom of her coat, then went to the fire and held up one foot in front of the bars before she said, ‘I’ve…I’ve just found out why he lathered her.’ She looked over her shoulder at them and added, ‘She’s divorcin’ him. Apparently, he didn’t know until he came home from London and to the house in Low Fell, and he tore up here and into her.’
‘Begod! you don’t say,’ said Sean.
‘Aye, that’s the rights of it.’
While Hannah warmed her other foot there was silence in the room. No-one proffered the fact that there must be another woman, because that would have been tactless and they all knew it. And they knew something else, Hannah, Sean and Florence; they knew that the news must have come as a shock to their son, and it was as if the thought drew their eyes to him, for when he looked up from stirring his cocoa there they were all gazing at him. Slowly he lifted his eyes from one to the other, and his voice held an indescribable note of bitterness as he said, ‘And he needn’t have killed him after all.’
The Solace of Sin Page 25
