by Nancy Carson
‘Hello, Lucy. I hope you don’t mind me coming so early this morning.’
‘Course not.’
Last night she had not got a proper look at him because of the panic and the darkness. But now she saw him in broad daylight and he had changed. She had not seen Arthur for nearly a year and in that time his image had become distorted in her mind. During his months of absence she had decided he was stupid and a chump, and these mentally afforded attributes had assumed exaggerated proportions. Despite her grief over Dickie, she could see just how wrong her pet perceptions of him had been, that they had been distended to favour Dickie in her mental comparisons. She was immediately aware that Arthur was decidedly better looking than last time she had seen him. He was swarthy now and his frame seemed bulkier, a picture of health … He seemed more confident, too, more assertive, and more manly. Bristol, or Dorinda – or both – had done him a world of good.
‘I just wondered how he was, Lucy. I’ve hardly slept all night thinking about what happened. I’m so sorry, you know. I do hope he recovers soon.’
‘The doctor amputated his injured leg, Arthur.’
‘Oh, no …’ He regarded her with sincere compassion. ‘But I’m not surprised. It was a mess and no mistake. How does he seem after it?’
Lucy’s eyes filled with tears, as much because of Arthur’s genuine concern as because of her own grief. ‘Last night he looked at me and smiled. Only for a couple of seconds. He hasn’t come round since, not even when the doctor took off his leg. And that must have been painful—’
‘Very likely no more painful than what he was already feeling,’ Arthur suggested. ‘If you can feel anything when you’re unconscious like that.’
She considered the possibility for a second or two. ‘I hope you’re right. But he seems a bit feverish now … Feel his forehead. Tell me what you think, Arthur.’
‘But I ain’t no doctor, Lucy,’ he answered quietly. Nevertheless, he felt Dickie’s forehead. ‘Yes, he feels hot. But at least he’s alive, and where there’s life … Maybe we should open a window, to let some cool air in.’
She agreed and he opened the sash for her.
‘How many other poor devils are here at the Whimsey?’ he asked.
‘They brought in three dead last night that I know of, and two or three others badly hurt, a woman among them.’
‘It’s a tragedy and no two ways, Lucy,’ Arthur said, shaking his head.
‘You’re telling me …’
Dickie moved his head a little and murmured something, again unintelligible.
Lucy looked questioningly at Arthur. ‘Do you think he’s coming round?’
‘Who knows? He might be. But then, he might just be delirious. Fever brings it on … Listen, d’you want me to do anything for you, Lucy? For Dickie?’
‘Do you think they’ll have told his folks that he’s been hurt?’
‘Oh, I expect so. He’s an employee of the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton. They’ll have told his family by now. I reported his injury to the duty station master myself, after they brought him here.’
‘That was thoughtful, Arthur. I can’t thank you enough. It would never have crossed my mind.’
‘Course, we couldn’t identify all the other poor devils I helped to get out. I don’t think many of ’em came from round here, thank God.’
Dickie was grunting again, mumbling, but showed no signs of opening his eyes, or regaining consciousness.
‘I just wish there was something more I could do,’ Lucy whispered, with an earnest expression. ‘I feel so helpless.’
‘He’s a big strong chap, Lucy. I reckon he’ll get through this. But it’ll take time. You’ll have to be patient.’
As she nodded, there was another knock on the door, gentle, tentative.
‘Come in,’ Lucy called.
The door opened and a young woman, possibly twenty-four or twenty-five years old, poked her bonneted head round it.
‘I was told Mr Dempster’s in here.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Lucy affirmed. ‘You must be his sister …’
‘Sister? No, I’m his wife …’
Lucy gasped with disbelief and indignation, and looked at Arthur for his reaction to this astonishing claim. The woman was patently a fraud.
At once the young woman went to Dickie’s bedside and peered at him anxiously. Lucy saw that she was decently clothed in a dress of good quality and a light Paisley shawl that matched it well. ‘Have you been looking after him?’ the young woman enquired, looking from one to the other.
Arthur immediately sized up the situation. Gently but firmly, he laid his hand on Lucy’s arm and, with his eyes, flashed a warning to her that she should allow him to explain their presence. ‘Miss Piddock here and I pulled Mr Dempster from the wreckage last night, Mrs Dempster,’ he said convincingly. ‘We are engaged to be married, you know …’ He looked at Lucy apologetically, but he understood that Mrs Dempster’s emotions would already be stretched to breaking point when she was made aware of the extent of her husband’s injuries, without being further troubled by implications of his infidelity. ‘We have been here all night keeping an eye on him.’
‘Then I can’t thank you enough,’ Mrs Dempster replied, having no reason to doubt Arthur’s words. ‘I received news of the accident early this morning. An officer of the railway got me up at just turned five. I knew something was wrong when I awoke and saw that Mr Dempster was not in bed beside me. Then the officer broke the news. I had to get my neighbour to look after my children so as I could come here to see him.’
Arthur squeezed Lucy’s arm as a sharp reminder to be restrained.
‘You have children?’ she queried, shaken rigid, but trying to keep her voice even.
‘Two. A boy and a girl. They’re only very young, but they’ll be devastated all the same when they know what’s happened to their father. I dread telling them.’
‘His leg was very badly injured,’ Arthur said, as gently as he knew how. ‘Unfortunately, the doctor who attended him in the early hours of the morning realised there was no way of saving it … I’m afraid, Mrs Dempster, that he had no alternative but to amputate it …’
‘Oh, my God …’ Her hands went to her face in horror and tears filled her eyes. ‘Oh, the poor, poor man.’
‘Now, it looks to me as if he’s feverish, but that isn’t really surprising, I suppose, after what he’s been through. He’s becoming delirious. I imagine the doctor will be around to see him again soon. Maybe he’ll be able to give him something …’
‘I need a cold damp cloth to put on his forehead to help cool him down,’ Mrs Dempster said decisively.
‘Lucy will fetch one, won’t you Lucy?’ Arthur nodded to her, indicating that she should do as he suggested, and she left the room, but with great reluctance.
‘When Lucy comes back I think we should go, Mrs Dempster, and leave you to give you time with your husband. I recognised him last night when he was lying injured,’ he felt compelled to say, should she wonder. ‘I had occasion to be in his company once before, you know … He was very kind to me and believe me, I needed help. Helping him last night was the least I could do. I hope he recovers satisfactorily, Mrs Dempster.’
‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. Mr …’
‘Goodrich. Arthur Goodrich, ma’am. I’m only sorry I couldn’t do more. But if Miss Piddock or myself could call again later today or tomorrow, to see how your husband is faring, I would deem it a privilege.’
‘Of course. I would be obliged if you would.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Dempster. Meanwhile, if there is anything I can do for you, please don’t be afraid to ask. Anything at all. I’ll do whatever I can to help you and your husband.’
Lucy returned with the dampened cloth and handed it grudgingly to Mrs Dempster, who thanked her.
‘I’ve just told Mrs Dempster that we’ll be leaving her now, so she can spend time alone with her husband. But she’s very kindly agreed to let us cal
l again later to see how Mr Dempster is progressing.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Lucy said, and left the room with tears in her eyes yet again.
Outside in the cool air of morning, Lucy laid her head on Arthur’s shoulder and wept bitterly, while he consoled her in his arms. He understood what she was going through, the mixture of emotions that were tormenting her, and he pitied her. The tighter he held her and the greater the manifestation of his sympathy, the more she cried. Nor was she the only person crying in the streets of Brierley Hill that morning as bereaved relatives of the dead arrived by train to identify and claim the bodies.
‘Come on, Lucy,’ Arthur said kindly. ‘Let’s go and sit on one of those benches in the churchyard. Have yourself a damned good cry and talk to me if you feel like talking. You’d be surprised how much it helps, just talking. I don’t suppose you feel like going home yet.’
‘I don’t,’ she whimpered. ‘Oh, Arthur, I want to die …’
‘Then the churchyard will be very appropriate … I feel quite at home in churchyards myself.’
So they walked up the steep hill to the old redbrick church of St Michael, and Lucy snivelled into her handkerchief as she tried in vain to stem her weeping. What had happened was unbelievable, a sudden sequence of unanticipated events, with which she could hardly come to terms in so short a space of time. It was bad enough Dickie being injured so hideously. Now this …
Arthur walked beside her. He did not put a comforting arm around her while they walked lest she should think him presumptuous, or harbour the false notion that he was still struck on her. They walked up the broad steep path that cut through the churchyard and sat on a wooden bench situated on the west side of the church that looked out from its high vantage point over the parishes of Kingswinford, Wordsley and beyond. The atmosphere was hazy and everything in the distance, including the horizon, was confused and indistinct.
Lucy looked up from her weeping with eyes that were red and puffy. ‘I feel such a fool, Arthur … You can’t imagine …’
‘It isn’t such an exclusive feeling, Luce,’ Arthur replied gently. ‘You’re not the only one who’s ever felt a fool. We all make fools of ourselves sometime.’
‘D’you think that woman really was Dickie’s wife?’
‘Why should I have any doubts? Why should you? She seemed genuine enough. She looked appropriately anxious about him. And she was wearing a wedding ring.’
‘But Arthur, he would have married me … I know he would.’
‘How could he, though, if he’s already married? Did you have no inkling at all that he was married?’
‘Never. Not even once … But looking back now …’ She sniffed and gave a great sob of grief. ‘There were clues enough if only I’d been sharp enough to interpret them … The fact that he never took me home to meet his family was the strongest, but I thought he was either ashamed of me, or he’d think I’d look down on them. I was never sure which.’
‘I thought he was alright, Lucy. I told you. I only met him the once, but I thought he was alright. I never dreamed that he was a cheat. I’m as shocked as you are.’
‘That time you met him … Did he ever say anything to you about being married?’
‘No, nothing, but I assumed he was.’ Arthur shrugged. ‘Anyway, when did you start courting him?’
Lucy flashed her puffy eyes guiltily at Arthur, and shook her head, winding her handkerchief around one slender finger in her preoccupation.
‘If you don’t want to tell me it doesn’t matter.’
‘If I tell you, I’ll only sink lower in your esteem.’
He shrugged again. ‘What if I suggest to you that he was the reason you could never commit yourself to me … eh? What would you say to that?’
She nodded her head, avoiding his eyes. ‘I’d say it’s true,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Although I’m not proud of it. I’m not proud of the way I treated you, Arthur. Especially now. Especially after this …’
He shrugged again. ‘What’s done’s done. It can’t be undone.’
‘But I must have hurt you … I know how much you thought of me and I treated you so bad. Only now can I begin to see what you went through. I’m so sorry …’ She began weeping again, and put her handkerchief to her eyes. She would have given the world for him to hold her right then, to put a comforting arm around her, but he did not. Nor would it have been right to ask him to. She had caused him suffering, now she must likewise suffer, and suffer alone. Nobody else could suffer for her. Not even Arthur.
‘I loved him so much,’ she cried. ‘I still do … I can’t imagine even now, that he was already married … and to that woman … that I was nothing more than a mistress. Can you imagine, Arthur? Me? A mistress? This is my comeuppance.’ She considered confessing that she was carrying Dickie’s child, but thought better of it.
‘You’re not the first woman ever to be deceived by a handsome man, Lucy … nor will you be the last …’
Her crying came in plaintive wails during which Arthur said nothing, allowing her to weep to her heart’s content. He wisely figured it was something she must do to get Dickie Dempster and the conflicting emotions of love, shock and anger out of her system and eventually out of her thoughts, though it might take months and even years to expunge the hurt.
When eventually her sobbing subsided, Arthur said, ‘I didn’t see any point at all in letting Mrs Dempster into your secret, Lucy. The poor woman was shocked and stunned enough over her husband being so badly injured. To have let her know he was deceiving her with another woman would have been a wicked unkindness. I hope you thought I acted properly.’
She nodded, allowing herself a glance at him when their eyes met briefly. ‘Yes, I think you was dead right . You showed concern for her feelings and that was considerate … and steered me in the right direction, when I could have been the cause of a rumpus—’
‘Which would have been very untimely.’
‘Yes.’
‘And pointless.’
‘I know.’
‘And very inappropriate.’
‘Oh, very …’ She sniffed and wiped away an errant tear. ‘You seem to like those words a lot, Arthur.’
‘Which words?’
‘Appropriate … and inappropriate. Did you pick ’em up in Bristol?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Well, they’re not words that I’ve just learnt anyway.’
‘Bristol’s changed you, Arthur. You’re much more sure of yourself now. Maybe it’s Dorinda’s doing.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I don’t feel any different.’
‘You even look different. Did you know that?’
He shook his head. ‘I ain’t aware of it. You look much the same, though, Luce. Still the same beautiful eyes, the same slender figure.’ He smiled encouragingly.
‘I’m a wreck, Arthur, look at me. I’ll be a wreck for a long time yet … Wreck of ages … cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee … ’
‘That’s very witty, Lucy,’ he said softly, ‘for somebody in the throes of heartbreak.’
‘Witty or not, I have to thank you, Arthur, for being so kind to me now, and so patient. I’m sure I don’t deserve such consideration. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there when that Mrs Dempster arrived. I think Dorinda’s a very lucky girl to have found you.’
‘I think I’m lucky to have found Dorinda.’
‘That as well.’ She forced a brief smile. ‘Just think, if you’d never gone to Bristol, you wouldn’t have met her.’
‘Life’s like that, Lucy. Unpredictable. Putting people in our way, offering us challenges and calamities that I suppose must shape our lives, whether we like it or not.’
‘That’s very deep, Arthur …’ Lucy sniffed again. ‘See? You have changed. You never used to be as deep as that.’
‘Maybe I’m deeper than you’ve ever given me credit for …’
She nodded. ‘Oh, more than likely.’
‘A bit later
today, Lucy, I’ll go back and see Mrs Dempster, to ask how Dickie is,’ he remarked, changing tack. ‘I’ll come to your house and let you know. Unless you want to go yourself and ask …’
She sighed profoundly. ‘I think it best if I don’t show my face. If I start crying in front of her, it’ll give the game away and, as you say, there’s no sense in upsetting the poor woman further. She’s got enough on her plate.’
‘That’s very noble, Lucy.’
‘No, I’m not trying to be noble, Arthur. If it seems that way, I can tell you it’s not for her benefit. I’m trying to protect myself. I just have to accept that she’s the one with first call on him, not me. However much I might resent it. So yes, I’d like to know how he is. Course I would.’ She sniffed again and wiped her eyes. ‘By the way, when’s your father’s funeral?’
‘Thursday … At twelve. They’re burying him here …’ he pointed to a spot in the graveyard.
‘Are you putting the inscription on his gravestone?’
Arthur smiled roguishly and Lucy thought how very appealing he looked. ‘No, our Talbot won’t let me … in case I inscribe something too irreverent for the rotten old sod. I would, you know.’
She chuckled. It was the first time he’d seen her laugh since his return to Brierley Hill and he thought how appealing she was too, despite her puffy eyes and red nose. Yes, he thought, time and events hurl their vicious trials and tribulations at us, and these very incidents do shape our lives. What effect those events, so especially tragic for Lucy, would have on her in the long run, only time would tell.
Chapter 20
An inquiry into the cause of death of the twelve persons killed in the railway accident at Brierley Hill was opened on the Wednesday, before T. M. Phillips Esq., Coroner. The location was the Whimsey Inn, where a jury was empanelled, among them Talbot Goodrich, Arthur’s brother. As soon as they were sworn in, they proceeded to view the bodies, then the Coroner adjourned the enquiry to the Bell Hotel, in more spacious and convenient rooms than were available at the Whimsey.
When formal identification of the accident victims had taken place, witnesses were called and duly sworn in. Arthur Goodrich would be required to give evidence at some time, having considered it his public duty to put himself forward as a witness, for he and Dorinda had been kissing on Moore Lane Bridge at the time of the accident and he had seen all that happened. Lucy decided that since she was not at work it might behove her to go along as well to hear other people’s versions of events, and give evidence also if she felt the need, or was called to do so, since she was one of the first on the scene.
