The Silent Lady

by Catherine Cookson

  Richard now raised his head, loosened his hands, lay back in his chair and looked at Miss Fairweather.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I – I suppose you are right; in fact, I know you are. But that . . . my way . . . was the only way I could see to getting him and the house entirely out of my life.’

  Alexander meanwhile was looking at his secretary and what he now said to her in a soft voice was, ‘You are a very secretive creature, Miss Margaret Fairweather.’

  Miss Fairweather’s colour changed slightly, but she kept her eyes on Alexander’s face as she said, ‘One learns that, Mr Armstrong, when working in the law.’

  This caused an immediate guffaw from James, who put out his hand and patted Miss Fairweather’s shoulder as he said, ‘Maggie, all I can say is, you’re marvellous. I’ve always known it; I haven’t been blind like some people.’ He grinned now as he went on, ‘What we’re going to do at the end of the month, I just don’t know.’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry, Mr James. I’ve decided to stay on for a little longer until Mr Armstrong finds a suitable substitute.’

  Alexander’s voice cut in, addressing his son: ‘You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Well, I would thank you to mind your own business for a time, and I mean that. You understand?’

  ‘Oh, yes, sir, I understand.’

  James was still grinning when he stood up and said, ‘Here come the drinks. Thank God for wine, whisky and women.’

  Immediately after dinner, which had been simple and short, Richard, speaking to Jackie for the first time since their heated encounter, said, ‘Mother would like to see you. Will you come along?’

  Her face straight, her voice matter-of-fact, she said, ‘Yes; of course,’ and together they left the others. But before they reached Irene’s bedroom he pulled her to a stop and, taking her by the shoulders, he said, ‘I want to shake the life out of you, even slap your face and tell you that you are an interfering busybody; and for two pins I would take you at your word and go ahead with what I meant to do. Yet at the same time I know damn well I couldn’t, because I can’t live without you.’

  She did not say anything to this, but she put her arms around his neck and his went around her waist and, their lips and bodies held close, they stood swaying for a moment; then she said softly, ‘I took a risk. I knew I might be blighting my life but I had to do it, not only for my sake but for yours, because I knew that that was the last thing your mother would want you to do, and that what she would love you to do is help the poor, the lost and the lonely, as she herself was helped for so many years.’

  Again he kissed her, but softly now; then they went into the bedroom where the sister was putting the last touches to her patient’s comfort for the night. Turning to them, she said quietly, ‘I’ll leave you for a little while, but she’s very tired.’

  Richard nodded to her; and then she left them. Now, bending over Irene, Richard said, ‘You wanted to see Jackie.’

  After making a slight movement with her head, Irene took from beneath the counterpane the paper envelope that held the necklace and handed it to Jackie, saying slowly, ‘For you.’

  Jackie gasped as she stared down at the beautiful gold and ruby necklace, saying, ‘Oh! How . . . how beautiful. For me?’

  ‘Wedding . . . present . . . soon . . . very soon.’ And when, after a deep breath, she ended, ‘A week,’ Richard said, in surprise but softly, ‘But, Mother, we have nothing prepared. I mean, there have been no arrangements made or anything.’

  Irene turned from him and looked towards Jackie. ‘Licence.’

  At this Jackie nodded quickly, saying, ‘By special licence?’

  Again Irene nodded, but now she was smiling as she brought out, ‘Good girl.’

  Jackie laughed softly; and, bending towards Irene, she held up the necklace, saying, ‘I’ll always treasure it. Always. And I won’t be happy until I can call you Mother-in-law.’

  Irene closed her eyes, and when they watched her lower lip tremble Richard said, ‘Now, Mother, please, don’t upset yourself, or else we’ll have Glenda in here knocking our heads together.’

  Irene opened her eyes, swallowed deeply and said, on a slight laughing sound, ‘Dread-ful . . . woman.’

  There was a tap on the door and Sister entered. Her voice was low but brisk as she said, ‘Time, please.’

  Richard bent over his mother and kissed her gently. She held his face in her hands for a moment but said nothing. Then Jackie was looking down into her eyes, and in a soft whisper she said, ‘You are a beautiful lady, and I thank you for giving him to me.’ Swiftly she kissed her, then turned, and Richard followed her.

  They were on the landing now and Jackie stood with her face against the wall. Richard put his arms about her and pulled her round to him, and, with tears rolling from her eyes, she muttered, ‘Don’t say one word. Not one word.’ Then, tugging herself from his arms, she said, ‘I’m going to Glenda’s bedroom to tidy up. You tell them.’

  ‘Yes, darling. I’ll tell them.’ He let her go, then made for the sitting room where the rest of the small company were having coffee. When he entered the room he closed the door behind him, but did not immediately step further in. He said, ‘She – she wants us to be married right away. Special licence.’ Then slowly he walked towards the couch and said to Alexander, ‘I know nothing about this, how to go about it.’

  Alexander put up his hand and caught Richard’s and pulled him gently down to his side, saying, ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll see to everything.’

  5

  It was amazing to them all how Irene seemed to come alive during the next few days, after Richard and Jackie had told her what they proposed doing with the manor house. Her interest was aroused and she nodded to every plan they explained to her. And when, after one or two short sessions with her, they hadn’t mentioned Bella or her boys it was she who said, ‘Bella . . . What . . . about Bella?’

  At this Jackie had laughed and said, ‘Oh, Bella was our first thought; Bella and her boys could never be left out of this scheme. You know the six cottages at the end of the estate?’

  Irene had made a small nod.

  ‘Well,’ went on Jackie, ‘the first two are to be made into one, in fact gutted and rebuilt. They are to house Bella, Joe and Carl. And provision has been made for Carl’s wheelchair.’

  Irene had nodded in agreement. ‘Nice . . . Yes; nice.’

  ‘And the other cottages,’ Jackie had gone on, ‘are to be gutted in the same way, and Tony, John and Willie will have one each, which they mean to rebuild themselves, like they did the wash-house, you know.’

  There was a smile on Irene’s face now and she repeated, ‘The wash-house;’ then again, her head moving, ‘The wash-house . . . warm.’

  ‘And what is more,’ Jackie went on, ‘Trip and Mrs Atkins and the two old gardeners who have worked outside for years are to carry on as long as they want to. In fact, they’ll all keep on the same services in our part of the house and look after us because there’ll be a special staff for the convalescents. It is all being arranged. You know Miss Fairweather, Alex’s secretary?’ and she smiled widely at Irene now. ‘She and her cousin, the architect, have done marvellous work.’

  ‘Nice . . . woman.’

  At this remark, Richard said, ‘Yes, she is, Mother, a very nice woman; and between you and me’ – he leant over her and smiled into her face – ‘we all hope that soon she will not remain Miss Fairweather.’

  ‘No? . . . Marry?’

  Richard smiled at his mother, and she, looking up into his face, asked softly, ‘Who?’

  And the reply came just as softly, ‘Alex.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes . . . we hope.’

  Now Jackie put in, ‘If he’s got any sense.’

  Irene lay back in her pillows and drew in a long breath before she said, ‘Exciting.’

  ‘And that’s what we’re doing to you, exciting you too much, and we must go, because if that sister comes in, or a nurse, we shall be
in trouble.’

  Irene closed her eyes and put out her hand to them, which they both patted before going quietly out.

  Eight days later they were married in the local register office, attended only by Alexander, James, Glenda, Bella and Miss Fairweather.

  When they kissed they did so gently, looking into each other’s eyes; then they thanked the registrar and went out. There had been no talking; they went through a hall and down a flight of stone steps to the waiting limousine, followed by Bella, James and Glenda.

  Miss Fairweather was about to follow them when Alexander drew her back into the hallway. Looking straight at her, and without any lead-up whatsoever, he said, ‘Maggie,’ and to this she merely answered, ‘Yes?’

  It was a question, and the next thing he said was, ‘Would you marry me?’

  There was a long pause before her laughter came: it was soft, but nevertheless it was laughter; then she said, ‘The answer, Alex, has been a foregone conclusion for years.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie!’ He now had hold of her arms. ‘I’ve been a selfish damn fool, and I never guessed, because you didn’t give me an inkling. But really I had never thought I could feel this way ever again for anyone. But is it too late for me to say, and for you to believe, that I love you and have gone through the devil’s own torture these last few weeks?’

  She was smiling broadly as she put her hand up and touched his cheek, saying, ‘I have no sympathy for you whatsoever, and I hope you go on suffering, because I’ve done my share of it over you for a long time now.’

  ‘Oh, Maggie.’ He glanced round the hallway. There was no one in sight, so quickly he thrust his arms around her and kissed her. Then as he turned towards the door, who should be standing there but James, and at the sight of him Alexander gave a short laugh and said, ‘Dear God! You would have to stick your nose in, wouldn’t you?’ And at this, the three, laughing together, walked down the steps and towards the second car. Before they reached the pavement Alexander, his voice a hoarse whisper, now said, ‘James, please . . . please don’t say a word yet. Please. It’s their day.’

  And his son, looking at them both, said, ‘All right,’ and they continued the few steps to the car, which would take them back to Glenda’s for a wedding breakfast.

  6

  Irene’s joy lasted only ten days more; yet during that time it was noted that she seemed to be more at peace and happier than she had ever been.

  She died in her sleep, but right to the last she was aware that her son was holding her hand and had been holding it for a long time and that his dear face was near hers.

  When she closed her eyes, it was a gentle fading away, for she did not stop breathing until four hours later.

  Irene was buried next to her mother, whose grave and small headstone had been obliterated for years now with moss and overgrown weeds at the far end of the cemetery, which overlooked the river.

  Of her father’s grave there was no trace. He hadn’t had a Christian burial because he had committed suicide; yet there must have been some part of the cemetery where he lay, although there was no record of it.

  The church was crowded, and so was the cemetery, with many photographers and journalists, the latter having found it difficult to get anything out of the close-mouthed family and friends who had surrounded Irene during her last days.

  It had come as a great surprise to everyone that Mrs Irene Baindor had been still alive. There was a mystery here, but not one that even the cleverest journalist was able to probe, although it was felt that there must be a great sentimental story here. The nearest they could get to it was that her son had been with her when she died . . .

  A fortnight later there was another gathering of all those concerned. It was in Glenda’s sitting room. They were there to discuss their futures as far as it was in their power to do so.

  It had already been arranged with Alexander and George Peacock that the businesses abroad that remained would eventually be managed by the accountant. The London office would be run by Alexander and his wife Margaret, leaving his own business in the hands of James.

  A new post had been created for George Green, Maggie’s cousin. His position now was managing director of the company that had been set up to oversee the demolition of old slum properties and the erection of new ones. His first job, however, was to get the convalescent home into working order.

  Lastly there were Richard and Jackie. It was decided that Richard would finish his training during the next two years with the next step his appointment as consultant plastic surgeon. Jackie had not yet voiced her plans, but now she did, saying, ‘What am I going to do? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve taken up a new career.’

  ‘A new career?’ This came from a surprised Richard.

  ‘Yes, dear husband, a new career.

  ‘First of all, I propose to be a wife and mother, but my new career is to be that of a writer.’

  ‘Writer? What d’you mean?’ said Richard. ‘As a journalist, you write now.’

  ‘No, I don’t; I merely report. But now, I propose to write a book.’ She had everybody’s attention, and Alexander said, ‘A book? A novel?’

  ‘No; not a novel, Alex, a biography, of a man who was once known as a great financier and of how he turned his wife’s brain and for twenty-seven years put her into limbo. But most of all, the main character will be Miss Bella Morgan, who was dragged up in the slums of Liverpool, and knew what it was to sleep rough. One day, when she was nearly forty years old, she came across a strangely dressed woman lying in a filthy yard, trying to find shelter under dirty fruit boxes. She took her into her life. She not only cared for her but she loved her and protected her and lived daily with her; and her charge only set foot out of the house four times in twenty-six years. The only thing, it seemed, that Miss Bella Morgan could not do for her was to get her to discard the old, tattered dress and coat and weird hat in which she had left home: her idea was that the coat protected her from men. And such was her love for it that she asked to be buried in this outfit. Her wish was granted.

  ‘And of how, in the end, one word, one name that Miss Bella Morgan happened to mention brought back, at least partly, some of her charge’s past and revealed to her that she had a son whom she hadn’t seen since she had last held him in her arms as a boy of four years old. And so she went searching for him and she found him, and the great silence that had held her almost dumb was broken. And,’ she finished, ‘I’m calling the book The Silent Lady.’

  No one spoke, and Richard, who had been standing by her side, dropped on to a chair and bowed his head; then, looking up at her and taking both of her hands, he brought them to his face and kissed them. Then he said, ‘You are the most wonderful woman in the world.’

  She stared back at him, then to break the silence that had fallen on them all she reverted to her usual joking manner and said, ‘Oh, ‘I’e just been waiting for you to recognise it.’

  They all laughed until Alexander said, ‘And how long do you think it is going to take you to write this epic?’

  ‘I’ve worked it out. Four years. In between times I hope I will have other family business to attend to: the nursery is all ready.’

  Epilogue 1959

  Covering the whole of Wellbrook Manor was an air of excitement: from the nursery at the top of the house, where lay two-and-a-half-year-old Alexander Franklin Baindor and his sister, one-year-old Belinda Baindor, through the convalescent area where the patients were about to celebrate with a party; to the main room in the house which was a sixty-foot drawing room and was now crowded with people. Standing in groups there were Mr Trip and Mrs Atkins, members of Glenda’s nursing staff, Alexander Armstrong and his wife Margaret, James Armstrong, and in their company was Bella’s kind friend and solicitor, Mr Travis, together with George Green, the architect. Lord Blakey was there, and next to him Timothy Baxter, who had flown in from America, a man now in his sixties but as handsome as ever; close by Dr Bell was talking to Dr Harle; and near the end of the long table was Mr Jos
eph Gomparts, his face alight with pleasure. Bella’s five lads, Joe, Carl, supporting himself on two sticks, John, Tony and Willie were there; and close behind Carl stood his friend, now a high police official, Raymond Smyth, jokingly known among the family as Mr Sixes and Sevens. A group of Richard’s friends had come from the hospital, and included three doctors and two nurses; and there was Bella, resplendent in blue velvet. Finally, there were Richard and Jackie, and Richard, having received a signal from Trip that the cars were on the drive, announced to the company that they must now all be on the move.

  * * *

  It took them exactly an hour to reach the centre of the City and their mystery destination, which had been a closely guarded secret. It was the Merchant Tailors’ Hall where a reception was to be held to mark the publication of Jackie’s book.

  It began at half past seven with drinks and introductions to Jackie’s publisher, his associates and literary friends, and Jackie’s journalist friends and acquaintances she had made in the magazine and newspaper world.

  The mingling with drinks went on from seven thirty to eight fifteen when dinner was announced; it was a sumptuous meal accompanied by the soft music of a string quintet that played in the background.

  This was followed by the speeches, which took no more than half an hour. The last to speak was Lord Blakey, who talked of the qualities of his daughter, her husband, and of Miss Bella Morgan and proposed a toast to their health. Such were the brevity and wit of his words that they brought a hail of laughter from the assembled company and gave a final touch to a magnificent evening.

  Now cameramen and television journalists were mingling among the tables. But many of them had naturally gathered in front of the top table. Cameras were clicking, lights were flashing, and, amid the hubbub of voices, one was raised above the rest. With a camera pointed at Jackie, the man cried, ‘Lift it up!’